#it’s gonna take practice and i HATE it so it also takes loads of patience | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silverlightqueen · 4 years ago

Text

21 Things To Do This Summer PJM

y/n has a week left to live and 21 things she wanted to do this summer. Jimin vows to help her do them all before she dies and give her the summer of a lifetime.

jimin x reader - angst, fluff, comedy, non-idol!au

Part of BangtanHQ’s ‘Bangtan Boardwalk’ at the ‘Summertime Sadness’ booth!

Rating: Mature (heavy themes and strong language - read with caution)

Word Count: 16.9k+ (she’s a monster omg)

Warnings: death and illness, discussion of death and illness, jokes about death and illness, brain tumour, discussion of eating disorders, brief mention of murder and crime (y/n jokes that Jimin could be a murderer or a thief), explicit language throughout, I think that’s it but please let me know if you noticed that I missed anything

a/n: here’s the first part guys! if you enjoy it, make sure to check out the other fics in the Summertime Sadness booth, and the other booths on the Bangtan Boardwalk! a huge thank you to @silverlightprincess for proofreading this massive fic, I love you so damn much x

silverlightqueen masterlist

y/n’s Summer Bucket List

21 Things to Do This Summer

1) Make a new friend

2) Dye my hair

3) Go on a road trip

4) Do pavement chalk

5) Get everybody I talk to to sign a shirt

6) Have s’mores at a bonfire

7) Get drunk and skinny dip at the beach

8) Make a wish balloon

9) Go to a fairground

10) Have a picnic

11) Get a tattoo

12) Sleep under the stars

13) Cloud watch

14) Try camping for the first time

15) Have a water fight

16) Make homemade ice cream

17) Have a pyjama day

18) Send a message in a bottle

19) Watch fireworks

20) Go to a drive-in movie

21) Make a photo album of it all

‘Hey! Hey, excuse me! Hey, wait, you dropped something!’ I can hear someone shouting and, despite the tears running down my face, I roll my eyes, wondering why the idiot who dropped something doesn’t stop to get it. ‘Excuse me! Hey, wait!’ I hear, the voice getting closer, before I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I realise; I’m the idiot.

I turn around to see a boy. The first thing I notice is the piece of paper in his hand. The second thing I notice is that I already know him. ‘You dropped thi- oh, y/n! Hey! Long time, no see. Wait, whoa, are you crying?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes again as I frustratedly wipe away my tears. ‘No, Jimin, why? Does it look like I am?’ I spit out sarcastically. ‘Okay, I’m going to ignore how rude that was because you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m going to be a good person and return this to you,’ he says, holding out the piece of paper. When I realise what it is, I snatch it from him, tucking it safely into my bag and mentally chiding myself for nearly losing it.

‘Thank you. Sorry for being rude,’ I say before I turn away, continuing to head home. It’s only after a few seconds I realise he’s walking beside me, and I speed up, trying to get away from him. He speeds up too. I slow down. So does he. I stop in my tracks, turning to shoot him an annoyed look, and he merely grins back at me, blinding me with his annoyingly handsome smile.

‘What do you want, Jimin?’ I ask tiredly, deciding not to be rude after he returned my list to me. ‘Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, so I thought it’d be nice to catch up. And I also know you, and you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m not going to abandon somebody who I have history with if they’re crying. And, as well as being a very caring and empathetic person, I’m very curious, and so I have to find out why you’re upset,’ he says, and I frown, continuing to walk, even more annoyed when he continues to walk alongside me.

‘It’s none of your business, Jimin,’ I say sharply, hoping he’ll leave me alone. ‘Well, obviously. It’s your business. But the nature of being curious is wanting to know other people’s business,’ he says as though he’s speaking to a little child, and I shoot him another look. ‘You’re practically a stranger.’ ‘I am not! We had classes together through the whole of high school!’ ‘I’m not going to tell you my business,’ I say with a note of finality, hoping he’ll leave the subject. And leave me, for that matter.

‘Would you tell me if you knew me better?’ he asks thoughtfully, and I roll my eyes. ‘Probably, yes.’ ‘Okay. I’m a Libra, I hate spinach and 13 is my lucky number. Oh, and I dance,’ he says, and I literally want to bash my head against a wall. ‘That does not mean I know you better. It just means you overshare.’ ‘Well, you can’t say I’m practically a stranger. Maybe only half a stranger,’ he says, and I let out a humourless laugh at how persistent he is, and he grins, mistaking it for a real laugh.

‘God, what is it with you? What do I have to say to you to get you to leave me alone?’ I ask, stopping in the street and putting my hand on my hip. ‘If you tell me why you’re crying. Or, should I say, were? Because, if you haven’t already noticed, you’re no longer crying. Thanks to me,’ he grins, and I actually didn’t notice that I’m not crying anymore.

‘Well, your stupid ass has distracted me,’ I admit, and he laughs, the sound quite… endearing. ‘So? Tell me then. I think I deserve to know. Considering I cheered you up,’ he says, and I roll my eyes yet again. ‘I said that you distracted me. That is not the same as cheering me up. Listen, Jimin, I’d appreciate it if you left me alone. It’s nice to see you again, and I hope everything’s going well in your life, but it is not a good time for me right now. My patience is seriously wearing thin,’ I say, continuing to walk, but he still walks beside me, making me want to throttle him.

‘I think your patience was already thin. And I’m a good citizen, so I would never just let a pretty girl crying pass me by without asking what’s wrong. Especially if I already know her,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes. Is he seriously trying to flirt with me? ‘Jimin. Leave me alone,’ I say seriously, putting emphasis on every word as the anger begins to bubble up in my stomach. ‘Not until you tell me what’s wro-’ ‘I have a week left to live!’ I shout, losing my temper, and his face instantly transforms from teasing and light, to shocked and guilty as tears fill my eyes. That’ll teach him not to pry into other people’s business.

‘Oh. Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, y/n. I wouldn’t have asked if that’s what it was. I thought you were gonna say you’d broken up with your boyfriend or something. I’m so sorry,’ he says, sounding sincere, but I merely roll my eyes, turning and walking away, and hoping he’ll leave me alone now. ‘How’d you know?’ I hear him say from beside me, and I sigh aloud, having to physically restrain myself from hitting this boy with my bag.

‘What?’ ‘How’d you know you’ve only got a week left to live?’ ‘I went to the doctor a couple days ago, for chronic headaches. They did some scans, and then I got a call this morning to go to the hospital. They told me I have a brain tumour. Terminal. They said I’m lucky if I have another ten days,’ I say tiredly, a couple tears falling down my face which I wipe away hastily, and he takes a deep breath. ‘Wow. I’m really sorry. That’s… terrible. Is there no treatment?’ he asks, and I sigh again. ‘Yes, but they said it’s unlikely to cure it, it’ll only delay my inevitable death, and it’s… painful. I’d rather die sooner than later if later’s gonna hurt. Or it could get rid of the tumour, but it could ruin my future quality of life; I might not be able to speak the same, walk the same, even think the same. So I’ve refused treatment,’ I explain, not sure why I’m opening up to him, and he nods. ‘Reasonable. I’d do the same.’

We walk in silence for a few moments before Jimin starts speaking again. ‘So. Where are you going now?’ he asks, and I side-eye him. ‘Home.’ ‘To your boyfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one of those either.’ ‘Spouse?’ ‘I’m single.’ ‘Parents?’ ‘Don’t live with them.’ ‘Siblings?’ ‘Only child.’ ‘Friends.’ ‘Don’t have any.’ ‘What about all your friends from school?’ ‘I matured; they didn’t.’ ‘Oop. Roommates?’ ‘Nope.’

‘You live alone?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘I have a dog. If that counts,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Of course it counts. What breed?’ ‘A miniature husky. His name’s Coco, and he’s literally tiny,’ I say, a small smile coming onto my face at the thought of my baby, and he holds a hand to his heart. ‘That’s a cute name. My friend, Taehyung – you remember him, right? – he has a Pomeranian who’s tiny, called Yeontan. Tannie for short. Tan for even shorter,’ he says, and I smile despite myself.

‘That’s so adorable. Maybe Taehyung can have Coco. He’ll need a new owner,’ I say jokingly, and Jimin winces. ‘Don’t you feel like it’s too early to make jokes?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘It’s never too early. By the time it’s okay, I’ll be dead,’ I say bluntly, and he lets out a strangled laugh, as though he wants to hold it back but can’t.

I still feel a little shocked, but mainly numb. I went through the stages of dealing with bad news whilst I was still at the hospital. I started by denying it, and telling the doctor that something in the scan must be wrong. And then I got super angry that it hadn’t already been identified and screamed a little at her (it was my own fault, though – I’m the one that didn’t go to the doctor until it’d been months of me having headaches). Then I tried to bargain with the doctor, and ask if there were any treatments that don’t hurt or wouldn’t cause me irreversible damage, or if there was any chance I would survive any longer. And then I cried. A lot. And by a lot, I mean a lot. I got through a box and a half of tissues. I was at the hospital for three and a half hours, and spent two hours of that crying. And I was still crying when I left.

I guess I’m now in the acceptance stage. I didn’t know it was possible to move through the stages that quickly.

‘What was that paper you dropped? Your diagnosis?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘All my paperwork was in a folder, loads of it. I threw it in the recycling at the hospital.’ ‘Glad to see you’re looking after the planet for those of us that’ll still be here when you’re gone,’ Jimin says, almost tentatively, and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth. ‘That was funny,’ I admit, and he grins, relaxing. ‘I do try.’ ‘Yes, you’re very trying.’

‘Anyway. What was that paper then?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Do you, like, make it your life’s mission to pry?’ ‘No, it comes naturally. A lot of girls receive it well, actually. They like it when someone good-looking seems interested in their life,’ he smirks, and I shoot him a disgusted look. ‘Big-headed much?’ ‘Just truthful.’ ‘Well, I’m not receiving it well. Clearly.’ ‘I guess you’re not like other girls then,’ he muses, and I shoot him another look. ‘Please don’t tell me you think that’s a compliment, because it isn’t,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Let me rephrase it. You’re not like the girls that I’m used to being around.’ ‘You’re probably used to being around girls just as pretty as you.’ ‘You think I’m pretty?’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Well, you’re right. But it’s okay, because you’re not just as pretty as me. You’re prettier.

But anyway. Are you gonna tell me what that paper is?’ he asks again, skimming over the fact he’s now called me pretty for the second time, and I sigh, giving up. ‘It’s a summer bucket list. I saw this girl reading a book with the same name in the waiting room at the doctor’s surgery the other day, and it inspired me to write one,’ I admit, and he grins. ‘That’s cute,’ he says, and I roll my eyes, looking away from him. ‘Well, I’m gonna die before I get to do any of them anyway,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that,’ he says, voice small, and I nod.

We continue walking, his shoulder a few inches from mine, and I distract myself from the slightly awkward silence by looking at our surroundings instead. It’s a lovely summer’s day today; warm and sunny with the most beautiful breeze. Families are out in force despite it being a weekday, little boys running around shirtless and barefoot, and little girls in cute summer outfits. Chill ‘vibey’ music floats through open car windows, couples share ice cream at the café we walk past, birds chirp in the trees that line the road. It’s such a beautiful day. I even shaved my legs and put on a cute floral playsuit. So much for sunbathing in the garden.

‘Hang on,’ Jimin says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. ‘What?’ ‘Who says you can’t tick off your bucket list?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to die, Jimin,’ I say slowly, and he lets out a frustrated noise. ‘You have a week. That’s more than enough time for us to do it all,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Us? Who said anything about us?’ ‘I’ve taken it upon myself to help you tick off this bucket list.’ ‘And I’m taking it upon myself to refuse your help.’

‘Um, rude. Why?’ he asks with an amused glint in his eye, and my eyes widen even more. ‘Are you kidding? We barely know each other. The closest we ever were was when Nayeon and Jungkook dated and we all planned at their joint birthday party, and when we got paired together for that History project. That was years ago; I have no idea what kind of person you are now. You could be a murderer,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to die anyway,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘Okay, I’m allowed to joke about it; you are not. You could be a thief.’ ‘Again: you’re going to die anyway. But, I’m not a thief, so don’t worry. You’ll still have all of your belongings to put in your will.’ ‘Excuse me. Stop joking about my imminent death.’

‘Listen, I want to help you. Let me help you tick off your bucket list,’ he pleads, and I’m surprised at myself for actually considering it. I’m going to die anyway – I might as well spend my last few days having fun. Even if it is with an unbearably curious person from my past. ‘Please let me help you. I’ll consider my life a waste if you don’t,’ he says dramatically, dropping to the floor, making enough of a scene for people to look over at us. ‘Jimin, get up,’ I hiss, and he scrabbles at my shoes. ‘I’ll die if you don’t let me. Please, y/n, please let me,’ he wails, and I look around embarrassedly, feeling lots of stares on us.

‘If I say yes, will you stop making such an embarrassment of yourself?’ I hiss, and he looks up at me with wide eyes and a grin, nodding. ‘Then, yes. I’ll let you help me,’ I sigh, and he jumps up from the floor, a wide smile spreading across his lips. ‘Okay, let’s see what I’m working with,’ he says, and I look at him blankly. ‘Let me see the list,’ he prompts, and I pull the list out of my bag, handing it to him tiredly.

‘Okay, let’s see. ‘y/n’s Summer Bucket List’. Cute. ‘21 Things to Do This Summer’. Only 21 things? This’ll be easier than I thought,’ he says, before his eyes scan down the rest of the list. As he reads it, I look him up and down, inspecting him. He’s changed since school. A lot. He’s now around 5’8’’, with clear golden skin, chocolate brown eyes, plump pink lips and ink black hair swept back from his forehead (must be dyed because I remember his hair being a lot lighter than this). He’s dressed in a pair of grey shorts and a plain white t-shirt, a loose grey jacket over the top of it with pair of sunglasses at the back of his head. ‘Okay, well, you’ve already achieved number one. Making a new friend,’ he says, pointing at himself with a grin, and I roll my eyes exasperatedly. ‘I don’t know you well enough to call you a friend,’ I say, and he sighs.

‘That’s the best bit. You barely know me, and I barely know you. We can be whoever we want to be. All I know about you is the vague stuff from school, and I know that you had high hopes for this summer, but you’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness. And you’ve only got a week left. And that you’re grumpy and get annoyed easily and are not receptive to strangers. And you’ve got a dog called Coco. All you know about me is the vague stuff from school, and that I’m a Libra, I hate spinach, my lucky number is 13, and that I dance.’ ‘And that you’re annoyingly curious and persistent and stubborn and think a lot of yourself.’ ‘Exactly! That’s literally nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘So you think we should lie to each other about what and who we are?’ ‘No, no, you’re misunderstanding. Haven’t you ever wanted to be like someone, but you’re too scared to, or you’re too stuck in your ways?’ he asks, voice soft, and I nod. ‘This is your chance. We barely know each other, and we have no more than a week together. You get to be whatever you want to be, y/n, and we’ll tick off everything on your list. We can be like those reckless teenagers from all those stupid films. What have you got to lose?’ he says gently, his eyes big and his words convincing.

‘We can’t do all this in a week,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Can’t is not in my vocabulary. And neither are cannot, unable to, won’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, mustn’t-’ ‘Who in this century says mustn’t?’ ‘We can easily do all this in a week. Even less than a week,’ he says, and I raise a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Ambitious, but I don’t think so.’ ‘And that’s not in my vocabulary either. But… give me four days,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Four days?’ ‘Easy. I could probably do it in three, but I’ll say an extra day just to be sure,’ he says confidently, and I roll my eyes.

‘Haven’t you, like… got a job? Or, like, studying? You can’t just devote four days – or more – to helping me tick off my bucket list,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Why are you so sensible? Trust me, there’s nothing I have to do,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow, not believing him for a second. ‘Fine,’ he sighs, ‘I work with my friend – Hoseok, remember him? – at his dance studio, but he’ll let me have some time off,’ he says, and I’m still slightly sceptical, but decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Why do you want to help me? Haven’t you got better things to do with your life?’ I ask him, voice small, and he smiles, seemingly endeared. ‘There’s something tragic about you, y/n. You went to the hospital alone to be told that you’re going to die. And you don’t live with anybody. And you have a list of things you wanted to do this summer, but won’t be able to do them without help. My help. Of all the places you dropped that paper, you dropped it in front of me. And of all the people that could’ve picked it up, it was me. We haven’t seen each other since we left school, and even though the odds of us seeing each other again were slim, look where we are. Fate works in mysterious ways, y/n. Let me help you. For old time’s sake,’ he says softly, and I feel that little voice in my head whisper, ‘why not?’

‘You know what? Let’s do it,’ I say, throwing caution to the wind, and feeling a little bit of excitement bloom in my chest. ‘Wait, really?’ he asks, surprise on his face but also… hope in his eyes. ‘Yeah. Let’s do it,’ I say with a small smile, the excitement in my chest flooding out into my veins. He jumps up and pumps the air, whooping and shouting in celebration, and I don’t even feel embarrassed of him, finding it quite endearing.

‘Okay, let’s get started. It’s 12.32, so we have until 12.32 on Sunday to tick the whole list off. Let me look at the list again. Um… well, number one’s done. And the last one, the photo album, we can buy a photo album now and take pictures as we go along to put in it,’ he says, thinking aloud, before he turns abruptly. I look around in alarm before rushing after him. ‘Where are we going?’ ‘There’s a supermarket just down the road that we can get a photo album from. Oh, and we can buy an instant camera too! Cuter pictures,’ he says, and I roll my eyes with a small smile on my face.

‘We should just scrap that one. It’s not like I’ll be able to look back at it, so what’s the point?’ I say, and he frowns at me. ‘Well, we could say that about all of this, but it’s about making your last few days exciting and fun and an experience of a lifetime. So don’t say ‘what’s the point’, because there is a point,’ he says firmly, and I keep my mouth shut, unable to stop a small smile from appearing on my face.

We enter the supermarket, the change in temperature making me shiver in my skimpy outfit, and Jimin looks over at me. ‘Oh, my God, my mum would kill me if she knew how ungentlemanly I was being right now,’ he says, taking his jacket off. ‘No, Jimin, it’s fine,’ I try to stop him, but he’s already handing it to me and taking my little backpack from my hand. ‘Let me. Have you ever been treated like a princess?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly. ‘Then take the jacket and let me hold your bag. It’s the least you deserve,’ he says, and I smile to myself as I shrug on the jacket without further complaint, watching amusedly when he puts on the backpack.

He leads us towards the electronics, the back corner of the store, and makes a beeline for the camera section. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ he asks, and I hesitate. ‘It’s hard to choose a favourite,’ I say quietly, and he rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Okay. What’s your favourite colour out of these?’ he says, motioning to the instant cameras, and I think before answering, ‘that one. The pastel blue.’ ‘Ah, nice choice,’ he says, picking one of the boxes up and heading over towards where the photo albums are, and I follow after him. ‘This one’s perfect!’ he says, pointing at one the same colour as the camera, and I nod, Jimin picking it up with a grin.

‘Right, let’s just double-check this list and see if there’s anything else we need,’ he says, getting the list out of his pocket again. ‘Hmm, we could buy some chalk to do number 4. And we can buy a shirt and markers to do number 5,’ he says, thinking aloud again, walking ridiculously quickly to where the art and school supplies section where the chalk and markers will be, before rushing off towards the clothes section, having me running around behind him.

Once we’ve picked out a plain white button-up dress shirt, we head over to the counter, Jimin chatting amicably with the cashier as I hang behind, surprised and slightly envious of his ability to speak to strangers like they’re close friends. ‘Would you mind doing us a favour?’ Jimin asks, and the cashier nods instantly, scanning through the shirt. ‘Can you sign this shirt? Just, like, with your name and your… job, I guess. We, um, we’re doing a project,’ Jimin says with a grin at me, and the cashier nods again, looking a little confused as Jimin hands her a marker from the pack. She writes ‘Soojung –supermarket cashier’, before handing Jimin the marker back with a grin.

‘Have you got film for this camera?’ Soojung asks as she scans it through, and Jimin looks to me, both of us exchanging an embarrassed glance. ‘No, but it’d probably help,’ I say frankly, and Jimin nods with a laugh. ‘I’ll go and grab them for you,’ the cashier says, getting up and running off. ‘We could’ve gone and gotten it, she didn’t have to,’ I say, and Jimin grins. ‘Perks of being a nice person – people do things for you that they don’t have to,’ he says pointedly, and I scowl at him. ‘Was that a dig?’ I demand, and he grins even wider. ‘Not at all, my dear, y/n,’ he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and I roll my eyes in response, the cashier reappearing with a couple boxes of film.

‘Do you want just the one or…?’ ‘We’ll take both,’ Jimin replies, the cashier nodding, scanning them through. ‘Gonna make some summer memories?’ the cashier asks, and we exchange another glance, a small smile playing at Jimin’s lips when he replies, ‘something like that, yeah.’

‘Okay, let’s have another look at this list,’ Jimin says once we’re seated in the back corner of his favourite coffee shop, pulling the list out of his pocket and reading it through. ‘So you’ve already made a new friend. Me. We’ve got the chalk for number four, and a shirt and markers for number 5. I should sign the shirt, right?’ he says, and I nod, thinking this’ll be easier if I let him do what he wants, and he grins, writing ‘Park Jimin - y/n’s fabulously beautiful assistant and school friend’. I raise an eyebrow, and he raises one back, challenging me to say something, but I just shake my head with a small smile.

‘Let’s look at the rest of them. Number 2, dyeing your hair… I have a trillion boxes of dye at home, that’s easy. Number 3, go on a road trip… we can do that, and tick off the others as we do it. Number 4, pavement chalk, we can do with Taehyung on his and Namjoon’s driveway because Tae’s good at art and their driveway is huge. Number 5, get everyone to sign a shirt, won’t be difficult, we just have to remember. Number 6, have s’mores at a bonfire… let me think about that one. Number 7,’ he begins, before looking up at me with a smirk, and I roll my eyes, a little embarrassed.

‘Don’t laugh. It’s something that so many people have done, and I never have,’ I say defensively, his mouth falling open. ‘You’ve never gotten drunk?’ he asks jokingly, and I laugh despite myself. ‘No, idiot, I’ve never skinny-dipped, but I’m pretty sure I’ll only have the courage to do it if I’m drunk,’ I say, and he nods, looking at me thoughtfully. ‘You can leave me with that one too, I’ll think about it.

Number 8, make a wish balloon, that’s easy. Number 9, go to a fairground… that may be a bit more difficult, but I’ll get it done. Number 10, have a picnic, easy. Number 11, get a tattoo, ooh, that’s fun. I know the perfect place. Number 12, go to a drive-in movie… difficult, but I’ll find a way. Number 13, cloud watch, super easy. Number 14, try camping for the first time, that’s easy too. Number 15, water fight… that’s easy as well. Number 16, homemade ice cream, easy. Number 17, pyjama day, even easier. Number 18, send a message in a bottle… should be easy. Number 19, run through sprinklers… shouldn’t be too hard. I hope. Number 20, stargaze and fall asleep under the stars, should be easy enough. And Number 21 is well under way already,’ he says with a grin.

The photo album already has two pictures in it; one of Jimin and I smiling and squinting in the sunlight, and one of us with the cashier, who looks a little awkward, but it’s fine. Nothing will be more awkward than telling her we’re trying to tick off a summer bucket list within a few days because I’m going to die soon. I was right – Jimin has a serious habit of oversharing.

‘Hi, welcome to the Sweetbrew. I’m Yoongi, I’ll be your server. What can I get you?’ a barista says, sounding like he wants to die, his entire face hidden behind a menu. ‘Yoongi,’ Jimin says, snatching the menu to reveal a boy with porcelain skin, mint green hair and brown eyes. I recognise him as one of Jimin’s best friends from school – Min Yoongi.

He was always one of the quieter members of their friendship group. Not shy, but more calm and laidback – it was easy to seem like that when surrounded by his friends, every single one of them having been big and loud characters. But he was just like the rest of them in that he was definitely popular, and desirable too. Everyone saw him as this sensitive and kind boy, his passion for music reinforcing that even more, and there was always somebody that was crushing on him, his look unique and intriguing. And he’s only gotten better looking since school, more mature and manly, yet still with the soft and delicate features that he had back then.

‘Oh, Jimin. Hey,’ he says, sounding a little more lively, before he turns to look at me. ‘Ah, y/n, right? From school?’ he asks, and I’m surprised at how quick he recognises me. ‘I told the group chat about you. Sorry,’ Jimin says, and my eyes widen, Yoongi sitting in the spare seat at our table. ‘What? When?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘While you got distracted playing with that puppy outside the supermarket,’ he says, and I frown.

‘Did you tell them everything?’ ‘No. Well, nearly everything. I told them what we’re doing, but I didn’t say why. Obviously,’ he says, and I fix him with a glare. ‘Oh, it’s okay to tell a random shop worker, but not your best friends?’ I ask, Yoongi shooting him a look too. ‘Not cool, Park,’ Yoongi says, and Jimin scowls. ‘I already apologised for that. I have a serious problem with oversharing,’ he says, Yoongi and I exchanging a glance as we chorus, ‘we know.’

‘Why are you doing this? If you don’t mind me asking,’ Yoongi asks, curiosity in his eyes, and I sigh. ‘I’ve got a brain tumour, so I’ve got, like, a week left to live,’ I say bluntly, Yoongi’s mouth falling open. ‘Oh. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, y/n, that’s awful,’ he says, sounding a little awkward, but I wave him off. ‘It’s fine. I’ve already gone through the five stages, and am now sufficiently distracted from my impending demise by your stupid friend,’ I say, Jimin scowling.

‘Well, at least he can make up for being stupid by helping you tick off your list. Anyway, you guys want drinks or you just chilling?’ Yoongi asks, and Jimin looks to me to answer. ‘I could do with a drink.’ ‘What would you like, y/n?’ Yoongi asks, and I hesitate, not quite sure. ‘Um… I don’t know. Jimin, what do you have?’ I ask, but Jimin already looks like he’s cooking up a scheme. ‘What fruits do you like, y/n?’ he asks me, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘berries, pineapple, mango, kiwi, peach. I like everything.’

Yoongi and Jimin exchange a glance, talking without words, and Yoongi nods before disappearing into the back. ‘Anyway. We need to get Yoongi to sign your shirt before we leave, remember. And then… we can go to Tae and Joon’s to do pavement chalk. And we should be able to make the ice cream at Tae and Joon’s too. Then we can go and pick up stuff from our houses before we go on the road trip,’ he says, and I hold up a hand.

‘We’re gonna have to go to mine before we go to Taehyung and Namjoon’s, because I’ve left Coco with the neighbour. I told her I’d only be a couple hours and it’s already been… nearly four,’ I say, Jimin nodding, and I can practically see his mind working. ‘We can get Coco and take her to theirs, and she can play with Tan while we get on with ticking things off. And then we can take her on the road trip with us the next day,’ he says, and I nod, getting more and more excited with his ideas.

‘Are you gonna drop me home tonight and then pick me up in the morning?’ I ask, and he thinks. ‘How about… we sleep over at Tae and Joon’s? You can get all your stuff when we go now, and then we’ll be able to leave first thing in the morning,’ he suggests, but I’m sceptical. ‘Won’t they mind?’ I ask, and he shakes his head instantly. ‘They’re so chill about this kinda stuff. They really won’t mind. We all sleep over at their house all the time because it’s the biggest. There’s more than enough space,’ he says, obviously trying hard to convince me, and I nod. There’s no point worrying about intruding at their house when their best friend seems to be the most intruding person in history.

Jimin looks back down at the list, thinking hard, and I smile to myself. It’s sweet that he’s putting so much effort in to try and tick off this list, even though we barely know each other. The most we ever said to each other at school would’ve been ‘d’you have a spare pen?’ or ‘can you pass me the bottle opener?’

Yoongi reappears after a couple minutes with two plastic cups in his hands, the drinks within them vibrant pink and orange. ‘I call this one… ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’. I put in the syrups for all the fruits you named and a lot of sugar and ice,’ he says, putting them down with a flourish, my heart warming as I smile at him. ‘Thank you. It looks amazing,’ I say, taking a sip, my eyes widening as the flavours explode in my mouth. ‘And it tastes amazing too,’ Jimin says, having already taken a (large) gulp.

‘I’m not the best barista here for nothing. But, y/n, you gotta take the credit. It is named after you,’ Yoongi says, and I roll my eyes with a smile. ‘Get out of here. But, for real, it tastes great, Yoongi,’ I say, the boy giving me the cutest gummy smile, and then I notice Jimin fiddling around with the camera. ‘What are you trying to do?’ I ask, stifling a laugh, and he sighs defeatedly. ‘Take a picture of us with your drink,’ he says, and I hold back a smile, ‘get someone else to take it.’

He ropes in an innocent woman sat beside us with her friend, and she takes a while to focus the camera on us and get the three of us in frame, but when the photo develops, it’s pretty good. ‘Perfect. Right, let’s head back and get Coco,’ Jimin says, and I hold out a hand. ‘Wait. Yoongi, will you sign this shirt?’ I ask, and he looks a little confused. Nevertheless, he signs it as ‘Min Yoongi – creator of the iconic ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’ drink and y/n’s school friend’.

Jimin looks thoughtful as we rise from our seats, and I side-eye him. I’ve noticed that a little bit of panic appears in my chest when I see that look on his face. ‘Yoongi, you busy tonight?’ Jimin asks, and Yoongi shakes his head. ‘I’m never busy,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘When d’you get off work?’ ‘4.’ ‘Come ‘round to Tae and Joon’s. I got an idea,’ Jimin says cryptically, wiggling his eyebrows at me, and I give him a look.

‘Okay. See you guys later then,’ Yoongi says before turning to head into the back. ‘Wait. Don’t we need to pay?’ I ask, and Yoongi smiles at me, a little sadness behind the expression. ‘It’s on the house. I might even speak to the manager about getting this drink put on the menu,’ he says, and I smile at him, trying to ignore the tears in my eyes. ‘Good idea. Thanks, Yoongi. See you later,’ I say, Jimin bidding him goodbye as he disappears into the back. ‘Okay,’ Jimin turns to look at me with a grin, ‘let’s go get Coco.’

‘Oh, y/n. Oh, my angel, I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Choi says for the eleventh time, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, and I smile sadly. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Choi,’ I say, not sure what else to say, when Jimin appears at my elbow. ‘Everything’s in the car now, so whenever you’re ready,’ he says with a grin as he hands me the house keys, Mrs Choi looking him up and down. ‘Oh, Mrs Choi, this is Jimin… an old school friend. Jimin, this is Mrs Choi, my lovely neighbour who my dog likes more than me,’ I say, Mrs Choi laughing as Jimin shakes her hand, bowing his head politely.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, y/n, Coco adores you. He cries whenever you leave him with me,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘And then cries when I come to pick him up,’ I point out, and she waves a hand dismissively. ‘It’s because I feed him so much,’ Mrs Choi says, and I laugh, Coco appearing in the doorway behind her. He comes bounding up to me, my heart filling as he rests his front paws on my leg, and I bend down to pick him up. ‘Hi, baby. You okay?’ I say, showering him in kisses, and ducking away when he tries to lick my face. I hate when he licks my makeup off.

‘That is the cutest dog ever,’ Jimin says, and I hold Coco out to him. He instantly takes him into his arms, and giggles when he licks the tip of his nose. Coco leaps out of his arms, and he panics, trying to catch him, but he does it all the time, bounding around the front garden. ‘Here,’ Mrs Choi says, handing Jimin the little tennis ball she keeps beside the door for when she plays with Coco. He instantly throws it and Coco bounds after it, running straight back to him with it in his mouth.

‘He’s handsome,’ Mrs Choi observes quietly so Jimin can’t hear, and I roll my eyes. ‘And doesn’t he know it?’ ‘Are you… and him…?’ ‘Oh, God, no. I… there’s a list of things I wanted to do this summer, and he’s helping me get through it all before I...’ I trail off, and she nods, blinking furiously, obviously trying not to cry. ‘That’s lovely of him. Make sure you take lots of pictures to show me,’ she says, and I grin. ‘We’ve already started a photo album. Actually. Hold on,’ I say, getting the camera out of my bag as Jimin bends down to pet Coco who jumps on him, the unexpectedness making him fall onto his back. I get a really cute picture of him lying down, laughing, with Coco on his chest, trying to lick his face.

‘Lovely. Well, I’ll let you get to it. But make sure you come to see me again before… well, when you get back from ticking off your list,’ she says, pulling me into a hug, and I screw my eyes shut, trying my hardest not to cry in front of her. She’s been like a mother figure to me since I moved out of my parents’ house, always coming over to check if I’m okay, bringing me food and inviting me around at least once a week, looking after Coco whenever I need her to. I’m heartbroken that I’m going to be leaving a hole in her life when I go.

‘I will. See you later, Mrs Choi,’ I say, pulling away from her, and we exchange a sad smile. ‘See you, y/n. Be careful, dear, and have fun,’ she says sadly, pressing a kiss to my cheek, giving me one last long look before she disappears into her house. I don’t blame her; I’d be struggling to deal if I were in her position.

‘Okay. Let’s go,’ I call to Jimin who’s sat cross legged on the floor, Coco running towards him with the ball and dropping it beside him. Jimin’s standing when I reach them and he hands me the ball, Coco’s eyes never leaving it. ‘Do you want Coco to sit on my lap or do you mind him sitting in the back?’ I ask, as we walk towards his car, and he shrugs. ‘He can sit in the back, I don’t mind,’ he says, and I pull open the back door, putting the ball in there, and Coco leaps in without hesitation. I shut the door behind him before climbing into the passenger seat, Jimin already sat in the driver’s seat.

‘You ready?’ he says excitedly as he starts the engine, putting on the radio which is currently playing Justin Bieber. ‘Yep. Let’s do this,’ I say, sneaking one last look at Mrs Choi’s house. And then it hits me. This might be the last time I look at her house. I might die before I get to see her again.

My body goes cold all over, tears prickling in my eyes as my throat constricts painfully. It just repeats in my head again and again; ‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.’

Coco realises I’m upset before Jimin does, and he begins to whine from the backseat. ‘Is Coco okay?’ I hear Jimin’s voice distantly, and when I don’t reply, I hear him coo, ‘Coco? What’s the matter, boy?’ And then he looks over at me.

‘Oh,’ he breathes out, instantly pulling over. ‘y/n,’ he says gently, reaching out to take one of my hands, and the second his skin touches mine, I burst into tears. He shuffles as close as he can, the gearstick separating us, and he leans across the gap, pulling me into his arms. I sob into his shoulder, letting him hold me as the tears come in an endless flood, whispering the words ‘I’m going to die’ every few seconds.

Once I’ve calmed down (and feel ridiculously uncomfortable in the position we’re in), I gently push away from him, and he releases me, still holding one of my hands in his. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper, and he frowns. ‘Don’t apologise. You’re allowed to be upset. Like, you’re going to die, for God’s sake; you can cry about that. Cry as much as you want, you’re entitled to do so. Just… tell me when you’re upset so I don’t say something stupid,’ he says ruefully, a small laugh falling from my lips, and he grins.

‘It’s just… it’s not fair. There’s still so much I wanted to do with my life. I’ll never work in my dream job. There are so many beautiful places I’ll never get to see. Tokyo, Mexico, Portugal, Bali, Dubai, India, Australia, Brazil, Hawaii, The Caribbean, The Maldives, Greece, Morocco. So many things that everyone does that I’ll never get a chance to do. Fall in love, get married, have a family. I’ve never even been in a relationship,’ I say with a harsh laugh, and Jimin sighs.

‘You’re right, y/n. It’s not fair, it’s not fair at all. You deserve so much more, so much better. You’ve been robbed of the rest of your life. You’re allowed to be angry. I’m angry,’ he says so simply, and it feels as though his words just… make it all okay. It’s hard to explain, but they feel like a consolation. They make me feel like the way I’m feeling isn’t me just being irrational, or a spoiled brat, because I know that it could be worse. They make me feel like I’m justified in my thoughts and feelings. And that’s what I need right now.

‘Thank you,’ I say, sniffling a little, and he smiles at me. ‘You’re most welcome, y/n. Now. Are you ready to go to Tae and Joon’s or would you like to cry for a little longer?’ he says teasingly, and I laugh, shoving him gently. ‘Drive, you moron,’ I say, and he gasps as he starts up the car, a small grin playing at his lips as he says, ‘Moron? I’m about to give you the summer of a lifetime in four days. Do you think a moron could do that? No, of course they couldn’t.’

‘y/n! Oh, my God, girl, it’s so good to see you!’ Taehyung exclaims the second I open the car door, running over from the front door and throwing his arms around me. I was always a little closer to Taehyung than I was to Jimin, because we had quite a few classes together. I hug him back, my face practically smushed against his chest as he holds me in a bone-crushingly tight embrace.

‘Hey, Taehyung. How have you been?’ I ask as he releases me, his hands still on my shoulders. He holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down, before an appreciative grin spreads across his face. I hold back from pointing out that he still has the same adorable boxy smile from high school. And then I register his bright blue hair, stifling a laugh at how eccentric he still is. ‘I’m good. You got hot, y/n!’ he exclaims, and I feel blood rushing to my face from embarrassment.

‘Thank you. But look at you! You’re so handsome, Tae,’ I grin, and he grins back with a little wink. Everything about him is just as appealing as back then. Tae was definitely a ladies’ man… and a men’s man too. He was loud and bubbly, his personality easily grabbing the attention of everyone in any room, and his laugh was crazy infectious. He was the perfect mix of cute and hot, and he’s only gotten hotter, with his manly features and strong build.

‘Thank you, babe. Come in, come in. Jimin, do you need a hand with the bags? No? Good,’ he says, not even waiting for an answer from Jimin before he drags me up towards the house, the other boy muttering behind us as I hear him pop the boot open.

The second I step over the threshold, a ball of fluff appears and begins yapping at me from behind Tae, and he bends down to pick it up. ‘y/n, this is my beloved son, Kim Yeontan, or Tannie for short,’ Taehyung says, introducing me to his little Pomeranian, who has now quietened down and is staring at me with a curious look in his eyes. ‘Hi, Tannie,’ I coo at the dog, reaching a hand out to stroke his head, and he lets me with a contented little growl low in his throat.

‘Ah, he likes you! He rarely likes strangers. Little coward,’ Taehyung says affectionately as I slip off my shoes, Jimin appearing in the doorway with my bag (a suitcase, actually – yes, I might be dying soon, but I wanna make sure I look good when I do, so I had to bring plenty of clothes) in one hand, and Coco in the other. And then the barking match starts.

Coco and Yeontan incessantly yowl and woof at each other, both of them scrabbling to get out of Jimin and Tae’s arms. And then Taehyung puts Tan down, and Tan instantly shuts up, hiding behind his dad’s legs. Jimin does the same, putting Coco down, and he tries to get Jimin to pick him up again. ‘They’re both cowards,’ I mutter with a smile as Taehyung leads us down the front hallway, Yeontan trotting along beside him as I follow behind, Coco hanging back with Jimin as he takes his shoes off and shuts the front door.

We enter the kitchen, and if it wasn’t clear from the outside of the house, it’s made clear now; this house is beautiful, and expensive. It’s roomy and spacious, modern and clean, with classy and tasteful furnishings. ‘I love your house, Tae. It’s so nice, and I love the way you’ve decorated,’ I say, and he beams at me, eyes nearly disappearing behind their lids. ‘Thank you, y/n. It was all me – Joon has no sense of decoration,’ he says, sounding genuinely touched, and Jimin raises an eyebrow at me as he walks in. ‘Look at you sucking up,’ he mutters with a grin, and Tae and I both shoot him dirty looks.

‘You want something to drink, y/n? Before we get started on the chalk?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘I’m okay, thank you,’ I reply, but he’s already distracted with the list that Jimin’s put in front of him on the marble island counter. ‘Ooh, so this is the list? Let’s have a look,’ he says before reading it intently. Once he’s done, his eyes flit up to me, before flitting back down to the page.

‘Don’t take offence to this, okay?’ he says, and I already brace myself for a mocking remark. ‘Some of this stuff is, like, basic teenager stuff. How have you not done all of this already?’ he asks softly, and I feel a little embarrassed. ‘I don’t know, I just… after high school, I drifted from the girls – I still talk to them every now and then, but it isn’t the same – and I didn’t really… make any new friends to do these kind of things with. I have my work friends, but the most I’ve ever done with them is a night out. And in high school, I guess I was… too cautious and too scared to join in on these kind of things. We went on a group trip to the beach – I was the only one that didn’t skinny dip. The end of school prank was dyeing our hair in the school toilets – I was the one of the only ones that didn’t dye mine. Everyone planned a camping trip together – I didn’t go. I was, and still am, a little… uptight, I guess? I wanted to change that this summer, but…’ I trail off, and Tae surprises me by nodding sadly.

‘Jimin told me on the phone while you were talking to your neighbour,’ he says, and I shoot Jimin a look. ‘I thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to keep telling people!’ he exclaims defensively, and I nod with a roll of my eyes, thinking his reasoning is fair enough. ‘I’m really sorry, y/n. There’s not much someone can say in these kind of situations, but I just want you to know that I’m so sorry, and that it’s so unfair,’ he says gently, and I smile sadly. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

‘Now, anyway. Shall we get on with this list? I know Jimin said that we can start with chalk and ice cream, but…’ Tae says, voice a lot more cheerful as he sidles over to me, twisting a lock of my hair around his finger, ‘I think we should dye your hair first.’ ‘Dye it?’ I say, lifting a hand to pat my hair protectively, having not yet worked up the courage. ‘Yep. I have trillions of box dyes upstairs – you can choose any colour you like,’ he says, and I look over at Jimin who grins, nodding encouragingly.

A few minutes later, I’m sat on a stool in Tae’s lavish bathroom, a towel resting over my shoulders as I inspect the boxes laid out on the counter in front of me, Taehyung and Jimin stood behind me as Coco and Tan play in Tae’s bedroom (they seem to be the best of friends now). ‘I’m thinking I shouldn’t go too wild considering it’ll be my funeral in a little while and my parents will probably want an open casket,’ I say musingly, Taehyung choking on air as Jimin holds back a smile.

‘Good idea. Maybe… highlights or ombre rather than the whole head?’ Jimin suggests, and I nod, feeling a little more at ease at not having to take the full plunge. ‘Okay… what colour then?’ Taehyung asks, and I look at all the colours. ‘Um… I don’t know. It’s really difficult,’ I say a little timidly, both boys nodding reassuringly, trying to give me a little more confident. ‘You’re right, it is difficult. How about… two platinum blonde streaks at the front of your hair?’ Taehyung asks, and I nearly choke.

‘Blonde streaks… like an e-girl?’ I ask, and Tae laughs, nodding. ‘It’s on trend, and I think you’ll be able to pull it off really well,’ Tae says thoughtfully, and whilst I’m still not convinced, Jimin nods excitedly. ‘Yes, that’d look amazing! Go on, y/n, you should!’ Jimin urges, eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I sigh before nodding with a small smile. ‘Why not? Go for it,’ I say, the two of them exchanging a grin.

Before I know it, the front sections of my hair have been bleached and foiled, and a timer has been set for 20 minutes. And Jimin is contemplating dyeing his own hair. ‘I mean, I’ve had black for so long, and I need a change, right? I’ve been wanting to go bright for a while. But do I go a natural bright, or a colourful bright?’ he muses, Tae fake yawning at him in the mirror, coaxing a giggle from me, but Jimin doesn’t notice, too busy inspecting the dye boxes.

‘If it helps, I liked it when you went blond at school. You look nice blond,’ I say, and he looks at me in the mirror with a thoughtful look in his eyes. ‘Bright blond, or platinum blond, or dirty blond?’ he asks, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘bright blond.’ ‘Okay, let’s go bright blond then,’ he says instantly, disappearing off to get a towel from Tae’s airing cupboard.

‘That was… interesting,’ Tae says with a smirk at me in the mirror, and I look back at him confusedly. ‘How so?’ ‘He never takes anyone’s advice when it comes to his hair dye. And he never decides that quick,’ he says, his smirk even wider, but Jimin reappears before I can reply. I try to shake off Tae’s words as Jimin looks for the right box dye.

‘Maybe I should dye my hair too,’ Tae says, looking at his blue locks in the mirror. ‘I like you with brown hair, Tae. I’d like it if you had brown hair at my funeral,’ I say, and his eyes widen slightly at the mention of it again. ‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We should all have natural colours for the funeral, out of respect,’ Jimin says, and I frown. ‘No, I don’t mind if you guys had the craziest colours ever. I just think you look so… classically handsome with brown hair, Tae,’ I say, and he looks smug at my compliment. ‘Okay,’ he grins, reaching for a box dye, Jimin and I exchanging a look in the mirror as he says, ‘guess I’m going brown then.’

‘When did you go brown, Tae? And you blond, Jimin?’ a voice suddenly says, making all three of us jump. There’s a man stood on Taehyung’s front garden, and I remember him as Jung Hoseok from school. He was cute back then, but he’s handsome now with his golden skin and his silky brown hair. ‘About… 90 minutes ago,’ Taehyung says, currently drawing what looks like a heart but could also be an alien, and Hoseok nods as though it’s perfectly normal.

‘Hey, y/n. Your hair looks nice,’ Hoseok says, shooting a heart-shaped smile at me, and I smile back. I’m still not used to my hair being blonde when it falls into my face, but it does look nice – Tae and Jimin did a good job. ‘Hey, Hoseok. Thank you. Tae and Jimin did it.’ ‘Please, call me Hobi. Anyway, how are you?’ he says before wincing, obviously already aware of my situation. Jimin really can’t keep his mouth shut. ‘I’m okay. How are you?’ I ask, and he nods, replying, ‘I’m good. Excited to work on this list.’ ‘Well, get some chalk and get your ass down here to help us,’ Jimin says from where he’s sprawled out on the gravel, drawing a dog (or attempting to, anyway).

We’ve been working on the chalk for just over an hour, listening to music from Taehyung’s speaker that’s sat in the doorway (Coco and Tan have already knocked it over several times whilst they’ve been playing). Bright chalk covers nearly all of Taehyung and Namjoon’s driveway – except for where Tae and Jimin’s cars are – rainbows, flowers, hearts, clouds surrounding us (as well as a bunny, a pineapple, a unicorn, a slice of watermelon and Jimin’s dog).

‘It looks like you’re nearly done,’ Hoseok observes, and I nod, wiping my forehead clean of sweat. ‘Yeah, we are. This isn’t as fun as I thought it was going to be,’ I say frankly, the others all laughing. ‘The fun comes from taking pictures with the chalk,’ Taehyung says, and I get up instantly. ‘Okay, let’s just take pictures and then carry on with the list,’ I say, the three of them laughing again as Jimin and Taehyung get up from the floor.

Taehyung instantly goes into director mode, making me lie down in a gap in the chalk. Jimin stands over me, one foot on either side of my waist, taking pictures on both the camera and his phone whilst Taehyung directs him on how to take them and me on how to pose, Hobi using his phone torch to give us better lighting (it doesn’t make much of a difference, but he’s trying).

I start to feel a little embarrassed, wondering what we must look like to Tae’s neighbours, before I remember that life is short – mine especially – so I should make the most of it without worrying what people think of me. After a few minutes (and a few dozen pictures), I get into it a little more, and the boys all begin hyping me up, Jimin making a few flirty comments here and there.

And then Jimin joins me, Taehyung taking the camera and Hobi directing us (he’s even more… bossy than Taehyung, instructing us down to the simplest things – the positions of our fingers, the direction we look in, the angle of our heads. Everything.)

‘You guys are gonna make her regret asking for help,’ a voice comes from the driveway, all of us looking over to see Namjoon and Jungkook from school stood there, leaning against the Jimin’s car. ‘Watch the car!’ Jimin exclaims, both of them heading over. ‘Just for the record, I didn’t ask for help. Jimin forc- I mean, Jimin volunteered his help,’ I say, correcting myself when he shoots me a dirty look, the others laughing.

‘It’s good to see you guys again. Did you walk here?’ I ask, and Namjoon nods. ‘It’s good to see you too. Jungkook picked me up from work, and then we dropped his car off and walked here. We all live really close to each other. Jimin, Jungkook and Hobi live on the road up there, and Jin and Yoongi live on the road down that way,’ Namjoon points, and I nod, thinking how sweet it is that they all live so close together.

‘JK, the blue’s gonna have to go,’ Tae says to the baby of their group. He’s changed more than all of them; he still has his big eyes and his cute bunny teeth, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s so handsome, and his body is lean and tall. Not as tall as Namjoon, though; he always was tall, but he’s grown even more now, and he’s gorgeous, with his dimples and blond hair. It’s like only beautiful people are allowed in their friendship group.

‘What?’ Jungkook asks, confused, his eyes wide. ‘You need to dye your hair brown again,’ Tae says, Jungkook frowning. ‘Why? I’ve only been blue for a couple days. Don’t you like it?’ ‘It looks great, but we’re all going natural out of respect, for y/n’s funeral,’ Jimin says casually, Jungkook choking and Namjoon slapping his back with wide eyes. ‘Jimin. You can’t just drop it in like that,’ Hobi reprimands, but I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, I’d prefer if we just spoke about it normally. Anyway, you don’t have to go brown, Jungkook, it’s okay,’ I say, Jungkook nodding, still looking a little shell-shocked.

‘Can we get up now?’ I say to Hobi from where I’m lying on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with Jimin, and he shakes his head. ‘If you want to make a scrapbook, you can’t just have pictures of you and Jimin in it. You need to get pictures with all of us,’ he says simply, and I bite my tongue, knowing I’ll just have to suck it up. Twenty minutes later, I’ve taken several pictures with all of the boys, and it was a little fun, I guess. We’ll have run out of film by the end of the day at this rate.

But my head’s starting to hurt a little, and I know I can’t take anymore. ‘Can we stop now? I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ I say, sitting up, and they all look a little worried. ‘Is it from being under the sun for so long?’ Hobi asks, nervously, but Tae speaks before I can reply; ‘no, it’s probably the hair dye.’ Jimin looks at them both incredulously. ‘I think it’s the tumour in her brain,’ he says slowly, and I can’t help but share his exasperation at their stupid suggestions, the boys all falling into a shocked silence as Jimin looks to me with thinly-veiled amusement.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right, Jimin, it probably is,’ I say, holding back a laugh. ‘Do you want some painkillers?’ Tae asks weakly, and I smile, shaking my head. ‘I’m okay, thanks. I might just have a little lie-down, if that’s okay?’ I ask, Tae nodding straight away. ‘I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms and you can have a shower, or a nap, if you want?’ Tae suggests as Hobi and Jimin help me up, my head dizzy and light, and I nod. ‘That sounds perfect.’

I blink in the slices of soft sunlight that fall between the blinds onto the bed, sitting up carefully. My head feels a lot better after that nap, which was the best nap of my life, by the way. Tae and Joon must be seriously rich, because this bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. And the room is super lavish, monochrome and clean, with a deep carpet and expensive looking furnishings. The bathroom was nice too, and I dragged out my shower a lot longer than usual, my skin smelling fresh with Tae and Namjoon’s expensive passionfruit body wash.

I slowly climb out of the bed, looking at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite me. I still can’t get used to the hair, but it does look good. Tae has good taste, and he and Jimin put the dye in really well – the front sections of my hair are the perfect vibrant blonde. Tae put all these different haircare products in it after he washed out the dye, and it feels healthier than ever before. It’s obvious he’s dyed his hair plenty, because he’s clearly an expert. He could be a hairdresser if he wanted to.

I open my suitcase and get out a bralet to put on (my pyjamas are satin, and I’d rather not have my nipples visible through them in a room full of childhood friends I haven’t seen for years) and put it on beneath my black button-up pyjama shirt. I quickly splash some water over my face to wake myself up a little before I head downstairs, following the loud voices that lead me into the kitchen. Namjoon’s stood at the counter, making coffee, Jungkook, Jimin, Tae and Hobi sat around the breakfast bar with two new arrivals; Yoongi, and Seokjin. Seokjin literally hasn’t aged a day, and he’s somehow even more handsome than he was back then, with his plump lips and swept back dark hair.

‘Sleeping beauty awakes!’ Jimin exclaims when he sees me walk in, and I smile softly, still a little sleepy. His blond hair really does look good, the perfect summer colour, and Tae’s looks really good too – the dark brown locks make him look like a model. ‘y/n! They were right, you really are gorgeous!’ Jin exclaims, jumping up and pulling me into a hug, and I try to supress the embarrassment I’m feeling at them talking about me, and telling Jin I’m gorgeous. One thing I remember about Jin was that he never used to feel embarrassed, at anything. Sometimes he’d get a little shy, and his ears would go red, but he’d never hesitate to do something, even if it was embarrassing, if it would help to ease any awkwardness and make people feel comfortable.

His hugging me, despite us barely speaking when we went to school together and not having seen each other for years, is just what I need, and a perfect example of how kind Jin is.

‘Thanks, Jin, but look at you! You’re really handsome,’ I say honestly, feeling at ease after his hug, and he grins at me. ‘You didn’t call me handsome, y/n, but you called Tae and Jin handsome,’ Jimin pouts, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘She knows Tae and I are the best-looking, that’s why,’ Jin says, and Jimin scowls at him before looking back at me, still waiting for an answer. ‘Just because I didn’t say it out loud, doesn’t mean I didn’t think it,’ I say matter-of-factly, and he grins proudly. ‘What about the rest of us?’ Hobi asks, all of them flashing smiles at me, and I blink a few times. ‘You’re all handsome. Now stop smiling at me before I faint,’ I say, all of them laughing.

‘Coffee, y/n?’ Namjoon asks, but I shake my head. ‘I’m trying to cut down on my caffeine intake. Thanks, though,’ I say, and Jimin frowns. ‘y/n, it’s not like it matters,’ Jimin says, everyone wincing, and I laugh, nodding in agreement. ‘You’re right. I will have some, please, Namjoon,’ I say, everyone laughing again as Namjoon nods with a smile, getting another mug out for me. ‘Sit down, y/n,’ Tae says, patting the empty seat between him and Jungkook, and I sit in it, feeling a little self-conscious. I’m in my pyjamas, with no makeup and slight bedhead, and they’re all just… so handsome.

‘What do you guys do? For you all to be at home at… 5.38 on a Wednesday?’ I say, reading the time on the clock. I have all of the boys on social media, so I vaguely know some of what goes on in their lives, but not much. It’s hard to keep track of everyone from school. ‘Um, I own my own photography business. We do photography for weddings, parties, photo shoots, etc. and we’ve had some pretty high-profile clients, so we’re quite successful. And I do some art on the side, and some of my paintings have sold well, hence the fancy house. I get to work from home most of the time, because I mainly do editing – I’ve hired photographers, but I do a couple weddings here and there,’ Tae says, and I’m impressed, though not surprised. Tae always did have a talent for art, and he was the photographer for the school newspaper, so this career is perfect for him.

‘I own my own dance studio, and we only open on Monday and Tuesday 6-9, Thursday 3-6, and then Saturdays and Sundays,’ Hoseok says and, again, I’m not surprised; Hoseok always loved his dancing and he put more effort into dance than into his school work, but I guess it paid off.

‘I work for Hobi and Tae. I teach classes every day that it’s open, and then I do some photography work every couple weeks. And I do some shifts here and there at a tattoo shop,’ Jungkook says, and I think it’s really cute that he works for his friends, though I wonder if it sparks any arguments between them. I look at Jimin when Jungkook mentions the tattoo shop, and Jimin grins with a little nod, my stomach turning. Obviously, he was referring to where Jungkook works when he said he knew the perfect place for me to get a tattoo.

‘I do all the finances and admin and paperwork for Tae and Hobi, and I work for a small record label, producing and rapping,’ Namjoon says as he puts my coffee down in front of me, and I thank him with a smile, quite surprised to hear Namjoon’s career choice. To be fair, Namjoon excelled in all of his subjects, so he’d be good at whatever he chose to do.

‘I’m a part-time chef at this restaurant in the city, and I’m also studying to become an actor,’ Jin says, and I’m impressed. I didn’t know Jin was interested in cooking or in acting, but now that I look at him, he really does look like an actor, and I could imagine him as a chef too, with one of those big white hats.

‘I’m a barista, as you know, I teach a couple piano lessons a week, and I do some rapping and producing at the same company as Namjoon,’ Yoongi explains, and I remember how good he was at piano. He was chosen to play at one of these awards’ evenings we had at school, and we were all so impressed at how good he was. Rapping, though? I never knew he could rap.

Everyone looks at Jimin to answer, but he looks back blankly before saying, ‘I already told her my job.’ They all nod before looking back at me. ‘What do you do, y/n?’ Jin asks, and I roll my eyes. ‘I work part-time as an assistant at a law firm, and I’m studying to become a lawyer. Or I was anyway,’ I trail off, a little sad that I’ll never be able to do my dream job, and the boys all give me pitying looks. Except for Jimin, who says, ‘damn, y/n, you’re clever. Law student, huh?’ I nod with a smile, and he grins. ‘You could’ve got in on the family businesses, and done all the boring legal shit for us,’ Jimin says, and I grimace, internally endeared at him calling them the family businesses. ‘I’d have passed. Sorry,’ I say, the boys all laughing.

‘Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s carry on with your list,’ Jin says, picking it up from where it sits in the middle of the island, and I take a sip of my coffee. ‘Should I wash the chalk from your driveway?’ I ask Tae and Joon, and they both shake their heads. ‘I was about to, but Jin stopped me. He wants some pictures with you and the chalk,’ Tae says, and I let out a sigh, all them laughing. ‘We’ve literally spent all of our time on the chalk so far. Your four days are gonna fly by,’ I say to Jimin, who waves it off with an easy grin.

‘Stop trying to worry me. Four days is plenty. You go take some pictures with Jin, and Yoongi, while I set up the next thing for us to tick off,’ Jimin says, getting up and pulling me off my seat, pushing me towards the door. ‘Make sure you get plenty of good pictures,’ Jimin says to Tae with a mischievous glance at me, who nods, and I roll my eyes. ‘We’re gonna run out of film,’ I say, but Jimin shakes his head with a grin. ‘I went out whilst you were asleep and got some more supplies, including a few more boxes of film,’ he grins, and I let out a deep sigh as Tae and Jin drag me outside, Yoongi trailing behind, and Jimin waving at us from the doorway.

‘Done with your photoshoot?’ Jimin asks as we walk into the living room. ‘Yes, thank God,’ I say, throwing myself down onto the sofa. ‘Jin, you’re way too demanding. We were out there for forty-five minutes,’ Yoongi says, flopping down next to me, and Jin scowls at us from the doorway. ‘Tae wasn’t getting my angles!’ he exclaims, and Tae’s eyes widen. ‘You’re not blaming this on me. I own a photography business, so don’t accuse me of being a bad photographer,’ Tae says, Jin opening his mouth to speak, but Jimin interrupts; ‘don’t argue. y/n’s dying.’

They go silent, and I burst out laughing as Jimin grins at me. ‘You can’t drop that into every conversation, Jimin,’ I laugh, the others relaxing a little, and Jimin shrugs. ‘I can. Just watch. Anyway, before you get comfy, we need to go into the dining room,’ he says vaguely with a knowing grin, and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘I don’t want to, because of that look on your face,’ I say suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘Come on, y/n, we gotta tick the next thing off your list,’ Jimin says amusedly, holding a hand out to me, and I take it after a moment of hesitation, letting him pull me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand, dragging me behind him into the dining room, and it takes a little while for me to register what’s going on.

The table is set up with these different machines, and Jungkook sits at the table with an empty seat beside him, a lamp set up to cast a bright light onto the empty chair. And then I spot the little book on the table, sat beside a bunch of needles lined up on a small white sheet.

Jungkook’s about to give me a tattoo.

‘Oh, hell no,’ I say, turning around, but Jimin grabs me around the waist before I can walk away, picking me up and carrying me over to the door as I struggle around in his arms, the other boys watching amusedly. But Jimin’s freakishly strong, and my struggling doesn’t work. He puts me down in the empty chair, and I pout at him before looking around at the others. Tae, Jin and Yoongi are stood in one doorway, blocking it, and Namjoon and Hobi stand in the other, blocking that too. I literally cannot leave, and when I look down at the needles, my stomach turns.

‘Do you want to look through the book?’ Jungkook asks gently, and I sigh. ‘Not really,’ I say, all of them laughing as he hands me the book, and I flip through it. ‘Can you all stop looking at me? Or at least put on some music so I don’t feel so tense,’ I say, more laughter rippling around the room as Taehyung gets his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a couple times, gentle RnB music floating out into the room from the ceiling. They must have a built-in sound system – their house really is boujee.

I scan the book and some of the designs are cute, but none of them really stand out to me. ‘Struggling to choose one?’ Jungkook asks quietly, the others having conversations between themselves, and I nod. He rolls up his sleeve, and shows me the various tattoos that cover his arm and hand. He has a flower, a skeleton hand, the word ‘Truth’, the woozy emoji, a purple heart, a little crown and some black stripes with various numbers and letters on his hand. ‘They all stand for different things. Like, for example, this is the tiger flower, which is my birth flower, and the letters all stand for the guys. So you could get some that are meaningful to you, or you could just get something that you think looks pretty. It’s up to you,’ he says, and I nod, thinking.

I decide on getting my birth flower, a little bolt of lightning and my parents’ initials. ‘Why don’t you get something summer related?’ Jimin suggests softly, and I think before nodding. ‘Like… the sun, or something?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Whatever you want. You could get a picture or a quote, anything you want. It’s up to you, y/n. It’s your body,’ he says, and I nod, thinking about the first idea I had for a tattoo when I wrote that list. ‘How about ‘we’ll always have summer’… or is that silly?’ I ask, and Jungkook shakes his head straight away.

‘Of course it isn’t silly,’ he says, but Jimin looks at me thoughtfully. ‘Who’s we?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘I don’t know. A general ‘we’, I guess? Like… as bleak as life gets, as boring, as sad, as hard as life is, there’s always the hope, the promise, the excitement of summer. So no matter what happens, we’ll always have summer,’ I explain, Jungkook’s eyes widening, and Jimin nodding at me with a small smile. ‘Wow, that’s so deep, y/n. You’re so clever,’ Jungkook says, and I laugh, waving it off.

‘Have you decided yet?’ Hobi asks, and I nod, feeling a little nervous. ‘I’m getting my birth flower, a bolt of lightning, my parents’ initials, and ‘we’ll always have summer’. What do you think?’ I ask, and Hobi smiles, looking impressed. ‘You’re getting four?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Might as well.’ ‘Where do you want them?’ Jungkook asks, and I hesitate. ‘Where does it hurt least?’ ‘Your ass,’ Jimin says with a grin, and I swat at him whilst the others all laugh. ‘The least painful is usually your back, the outside of your arms, the inside of your forearm and the outsides of your thighs. Hands aren’t too bad, and nor are shoulders,’ Jungkook explains.

After a lot of deliberation, we make the decision as a group of where I should have them; birth flower on my inner forearm, my parents’ initials on my right ring finger, the lightning bolt on the side of my ribcage/side-boob, and the quote on the back of my left shoulder. ‘How long will it take, Jungkook?’ I ask as Jungkook sets up all his equipment, the others arguing about what we should have for dinner. ‘Please, call me JK, or Kook, or whatever. And, it shouldn’t take longer than a few hours, because they’re all quite small. The quote will take the longest, and I can usually do quotes in an hour and a half, so I’d say… three hours, maybe three and a half?’ he says, and I feel dread at the thought of being in pain for that long. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.

‘Are you still not done?’ Taehyung demands as he enters the room, Jungkook’s eyes still fixed on my finger as he sighs. ‘Relax, I’m doing the last one now. I’ll be done in a few minutes,’ he says, and Tae huffs. ‘You’re taking ages. We want to do the next thing on her list.’ ‘Don’t rush me, Tae. Tattooing is an art,’ Jungkook says calmly, Tae rolling his eyes from behind Jungkook’s back, and I hold back a laugh.

It actually wasn’t that painful, surprisingly. The worst thing was having to stay still for so long. He started with my birth flower, and it was fascinating to watch the ink appear on my skin, at first. The fascination soon wore off, and I was itching to move, but I knew I’d just ruin it if I did.

Then he moved onto the quote. I had to tie my hair up into a bun and sit backwards on a chair whilst he did it, and Jimin fed me some of the Chinese food they’d ordered, keeping me entertained with his stupid antics. Jin tried to feed Jungkook, but when he choked Jungkook with a chopstick, Jungkook decided he’d just eat afterwards.

And then he did my lightning bolt. I had to take off my top and unclasp my bra, holding it in place with my arm out of the way so Jungkook could get to my side-boob easily, and I told the boys that none of them could come in whilst he was doing that one, because the bra kept slipping. Jungkook was very professional though, and I can’t even imagine how many boobs he’s seen over his time working as a tattoo artist.

And now he’s doing my fingers. I’m used to the stinging pain now, and I’m very proud of myself for not crying. Tae shows me some funny videos on his phone whilst Jungkook carries on with the tattoo. ‘And… done!’ he exclaims, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. I look at my hand, pleased with how the tattoo looks. ‘Thank you, JK, it’s great.’ ‘No problem. Right… let me give you the aftercare speech,’ he says as he begins to put the weird jelly stuff and a bandage onto my finger. It’s weird how professional he is – I saw him passed out drunk at house parties more times than I can remember, and now he’s giving me tattoos and telling me how to look after them properly.

‘Don’t remove these bandages for 24 hours, and when you do, wash the tattoos, gently, with an unscented soap and water, and pat it dry afterwards. Put on some of this ointment twice a day, if you can, but you don’t need to put on another bandage. Wash them a few times a day, gently, with unscented soap and water, and always pat them dry, and then put on an unscented sensitive skin moisturiser. Obviously, you’re going to tick those things off your bucket list, and I’m sure a couple involve being in the water and sun. We usually advise against being in the water and sun, but obviously, you’re not going to do that, so just don’t be in the sun for too long, and put plasters over them when you go in the water, to try and stop them being infected. It’s not really that big of a deal if they do get infected because…’ ‘I’m dying anyway.’ ‘Yeah, that. So don’t worry about it too much, but just try your best to be careful with them. Oh, and don’t go into hot water, if you can help it. Have cool showers, and not for too long, either. I think that’s it, but if you have any questions, just get my number from Jimin and text or call me. Do you have any questions now?’

‘Only one; would you rather I transferred you the money, or do you want cash?’ ‘y/n, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not charging you,’ he says as though it’s obvious, and I frown. ‘Jungkook.’ ‘No, y/n, I’m not taking money from you.’ ‘Why not? I haven’t got anything else to spend it on, remember? And it’s taken you ages!’ ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not accepting any money from you, and that’s it. I do free tattoos for the boys all the time – Jimin’s got several from me. Just see it as a gift from an old friend,’ he says simply, with a grin, and I can’t help the small smile on my face. ‘Thank you, JK,’ I say, and he grins even wider, his cute little bunny teeth on display. ‘No problem, y/n.’

‘Are you done now? Can we move on to the next thing?’ Tae says excitedly, Jungkook nodding with a laugh at his eagerness. ‘Come on, then,’ Tae says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up, dragging me out of the dining room. He leads me towards the back door, pushing it open and moving aside to let me out first, and I gasp when I see the garden. ‘I know it’s not that big but it’s the best I could do,’ Jimin says as I slip on the sliders that he puts down on the floor in front of me, stepping out onto the light wood decking.

Tae and Namjoon’s garden is beautiful – it’s obvious at least one of the two loves gardening. The decking has steps down onto the grass which is healthy and neat, a dark, rich green, and there are trees and flowers of all different colours lining the light wood fence that runs around the garden. Fairy lights are strung up around the fence, casting a warm yellow glow across the space and there’s a fire pit in the middle of the garden, a small fire inside it with a garden furniture set placed around it, four armchairs and two two-seaters.

‘Oh, my God, this is great! Did you already have a fire pit?’ I ask Tae who shakes his head. ‘Jimin went out to buy one earlier,’ he says, and I look to Jimin with a frown. ‘You shouldn’t have. Let me give you the money for it,’ I say, and he shakes his head before I even finish speaking. ‘I don’t think so. Come on,’ he says, holding out an arm to me, and I take it with a begrudging smile. He leads me down the decking steps, across the grass to the bonfire and he sits down in an armchair as I sit in the two-seater beside it, Tae and JK following behind, the leftovers of the Chinese food in Jungkook’s hands.

‘Where are the others?’ I ask, and Jimin looks a little sheepish. ‘I, um, went to get supplies when you were sleeping, right? Well, I bought the fire pit, but I forgot all the other stuff,’ he explains, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I hold back a laugh. ‘What other stuff?’ I ask, just as Jin and Hobi appear through the back door. ‘The biscuits, the chocolate, the marshmallows, the roasting sticks. Everything else,’ Jin says exasperatedly, the two of them coming to join us.

‘Where are the other two?’ Tae asks as they take their seats, Jin taking a prawn cracker from Jungkook’s lap, the boy shooting him a dirty look. ‘Putting the stuff onto plates for us, because a couple of us are too messy and, apparently, we’ll drop melted marshmallows and chocolate onto the grass and ruin it,’ Hobi says with a roll of his eyes, and I have a feeling he’s quoting Namjoon. ‘Am I wrong, though? There’s still the patch of grass that’s discoloured after Jimin spilled beer on it!’ Namjoon exclaims, holding blankets in his arms, Yoongi following behind with a tray in his hands, paper plates atop the tray. ‘How many times do I have to apologise for ruining your grass before you forget?’ Jimin asks tiredly as Namjoon and Yoongi take their seats, and Namjoon gives him a hard look. ‘As many times as it takes for the grass to return to its proper colour,’ Namjoon says, and I can feel an argument brewing so I quickly change the subject.

‘Shall we get a picture?’ I ask, not realising that another argument is about to start, over who’s going to take the picture. ‘Oh, my God, we’ve been arguing for five minutes! Just let me take the picture!’ Yoongi exclaims (after five minutes of arguing), his annoyance only half-hearted, and I pout. ‘No, Yoongi, I want you in the picture. I want us all in the picture,’ I say, Jin sighing and grabbing his temples before sending Namjoon to ask their nice neighbour, Mr Lee. I feel bad for disturbing him at 9.09pm on a Wednesday, but they insist. It’s more than a little awkward when he starts asking questions and Jimin says with a grin, ‘we’re ticking off y/n’s summer bucket list because she’s got a brain tumour and she’s going to die in a week.’ It’s like he can’t take the pictures quick enough after that, practically sprinting out of the garden once he’s done.

Yoongi gives us all our plates, Jungkook balancing his on one knee whilst he eats his Chinese food, and I feel pretty stupid when all of them instantly know how to put their s’mores together. ‘Have you never had s’mores before?’ Jimin asks, and I shake my head sheepishly. ‘Here, let me show you. You gotta just put a marshmallow on a stick,’ he says, and I copy the way he spears it on the stick. ‘Then you hold it over the fire for a little while, until it goes a bit brown, and then turn it over the other way,’ he says, holding his stick over the fire, and I do the same, turning it the other way once it’s browned a little. ‘And then you get a piece of chocolate and put it on top of a biscuit. And then you put the marshmallow on top of that. And then you put a piece of chocolate on top of the marshmallow, and another biscuit on top of the chocolate. Then you take it off the stick and… you got your s’more!’ he says, holding his s’more up with a flourish. It looks a lot neater than mine, but I’m still proud of myself for managing to not set fire to anything. ‘Just wait a little for it to cool down. Kook learned that the hard way,’ Jimin says pointedly, the other boy pursing his lips embarrassedly as we all laugh.

The sky is still high and light with clouds, though the sun has disappeared over the horizon, the moon a pale white circle against the soft blue. The air is still warm, but not with the humidity of earlier today, a cool tinge to the breeze that glides across my skin. It’s the perfect summer evening, made even better by the light conversations we have and the alcohol that Taehyung brings out for us – Jimin, Yoongi and Jin drink their soju like it’s going out of fashion, Jungkook, Namjoon and Hobi nursing beers instead whilst Tae and I sip on our Malibu and coke (very little Malibu actually in it). The s’mores are amazing, the warm gooey marshmallow, rich melty chocolate and crunchy sweet biscuits a perfect combination – whoever came up with s’mores is an actual genius.

‘Do you want some more s’mores, y/n?’ Hobi asks once my plate is empty, and I groan, the boys all laughing. ‘I think I’ll explode if I have another. I’ve eaten more today than I have in the last week,’ I say, clutching my stomach. ‘I’ll have one, Hobi,’ Jungkook says with a cheeky grin, and Hobi shoots him a glare, no real venom in it. ‘Get yourself one.’ ‘You offered to y/n!’ ‘You’re not dying in a week,’ Hobi says, eyes instantly flitting to me to see if I mind, but I’m already bursting into laughter, my head falling onto Jin’s shoulder which is shaking from his laughter too.

‘Are we terrible for joking about death?’ Jungkook says once we’ve all calmed down, and I sigh. A cold breeze rushes past us, biting at my skin, and I shiver, pulling my blanket closer around me and shuffling forward in my seat so I sit closer to the bonfire. It’s gotten so much cooler so quickly, all of us wrapped up in blankets. ‘What can we do but joke about it? I think I’d cry if we didn’t,’ I say into the silence, the boys all just listening as I stare into the flickering flames, deeply inhaling the smoky scent in the air.

‘It still doesn’t feel real. How do you prepare yourself for death?’ I ask, voice a little shaky, and Jin puts a hand on my shoulder gently. ‘I wish we could tell you, y/n, and make it easier for you, but it will never be easy to see someone of your age die. Old people, who have lived their lives, they can prepare for death. I don’t think you can. And I’m sorry for that, I really am. We all are,’ he says softly, his kind words bringing a sad smile to my face. ‘Thank you. Thank you all, for doing all this today, and Namjoon and Taehyung, for opening your home to me,’ I say, all of them reflecting my sad smile back at me.

‘We’d have done it even if you weren’t dying, y/n. Please, don’t think we’re only doing this because you’re dying. We’ve all known each other since we were kids. And look at all you did for us. We’d have done all of this for you regardless of your health if you asked us to,’ Namjoon says, and I look at him in confusion, wondering what he means. ‘What did I do for all of you?’ ‘We were talking about this whilst you were asleep. Remember when I was riding my bike past your house, and I fell off it?’ Namjoon asks, the others laughing at the mention, and all of a sudden, a memory I didn’t even know I had appears in my mind.

We must’ve been around 7; I don’t remember what I was doing, but I saw Namjoon on the floor outside of my house through the window, clutching onto his knee with his bike beside him. I ran and got the plasters from where they were in one of the kitchen cupboards, and practically sprinted outside. I sat down on the floor beside Namjoon, and there were tears in his eyes, and his knee was bloody. Not knowing that you’re supposed to clean a cut and disinfect it, I’d just put a plaster on for him, and then my parents saw what was going on, and took Namjoon inside to properly clean the cut, me following them in with his bike in my arms, and then they phoned his mum to let her know what had happened. Our school was a tight knit community and all the parents were friends with each other – they all had each other’s phone numbers.

‘How do you remember that?’ I ask, smiling at the memory, and he grins. ‘It’s the first act of kindness I remember experiencing. And it might have been simple, but it taught me to be kind, and do things for people when I didn’t have to, because that’s what you did for me,’ he says, and then all of the boys share the stories of things I did for them over the years we went to school together.

For Jin, I’d lost one of his crayons and then I’d brought in a whole new pack for him. When his mum mentioned it to my parents and thanked them for buying Jin a new pack, they’d had been confused; they hadn’t bought a new set of crayons. I’d taken in one of my own sets for him without telling them. Jin brought it into school every day and shared it with me and only me, and wrote both of our names on the packaging so that everyone would know that they belonged to the both of us.

For Yoongi, I’d recorded his piano performance at the awards’ evening because I’d overheard his mum saying she’d forgotten her video camera at home and didn’t have a smart phone to record it on. I’d sent it to him that night, letting him know why I’d recorded it, and he’d thanked me before showing his mum. I never knew this at the time, but apparently she was so happy that she cried, and made Yoongi give me a present to thank me. I didn’t know that Yoongi was the one who put the thank you card in my locker with a necklace in it a couple weeks later – he’d been too shy to give it to me face to face (I’d been so confused, wondering who was thanking me and for what). I still wear the necklace sometimes – it’s a silver chain with a little butterfly pendant that rests between my collarbones.

For Hobi, I’d spotted a random bag in the school car park, and checked the belongings to see that it was Hobi’s – his wallet had been in there, along with a load of money and some dance clothes. I’d brought it in the next day and gave it to him, and he’d thanked me profusely. What I didn’t know at the time was that his mum had worked multiple jobs in order to fund his dancing, including buying him all that dance gear, and that he’d thought that someone would’ve stolen it all because they were worth a lot, as well as stealing his wallet. But instead, it’d been returned back to him, with everything still in there.

For Taehyung, I’d been the only one to say I liked his drawing, back when we were little kids. It was of a little alien cartoon character, with a heart shaped head (the same thing he’d been drawing in chalk on the driveway earlier), and everyone else laughed at him and called it silly and said it looked nothing like the real cartoon. But when I told him it was nice and that I thought it was really good, it made him want to draw it more, before he started drawing other things too, and his passion for art had been sparked, all because of a little compliment from me when we could barely write our names.

For Jungkook, I’d been helping clean Dahyun’s house after her house party, and I found him passed out in the upstairs bathroom. I got Dahyun to help me get him into my car, drove him home (I knew his address from a party he’d had once), used his house keys to get him in his house, helped him lie down on the sofa, forced him to drink some water and then left a note beside a full bottle of water to letting him know who’d dropped him off at home. And then I’d locked up after myself and posted the keys through the letterbox. His mum had phoned my parents the next day to thank me profusely, and brought over some cupcakes – they were amazing, by the way.

And for Jimin, maybe the most important of them all – I’d done my end-of-year presentation on eating disorders. We had to do the presentations for our language grade, to show that we could speak with fluency and precision and accuracy, and we were told to do it on an interesting topic so that we would be motivated to write an engaging presentation. Almost everyone else did theirs on superficial things, like their hobby or their favourite celebrity. Mine was one of the only serious ones. Everyone had praised mine – I always was good at language – and I got one of the highest two grades (Namjoon and I competed for the top of the class in every lesson we had together). But what I didn’t know was that, thanks to my presentation, Jimin realised he had an eating disorder. He was virtually starving himself, not eating for days at a time, whilst over exercising, because he hated the way his body looked. And because of the helplines and websites I put at the end of the presentation, he sought help, and spoke to his parents about it. He went to the doctor with his mother, and they put him on a diet plan to get him back to being healthy. I helped him to be healthy again.

My eyes are teary when Jimin finishes speaking. I’m so touched that he remembers, that they all remember the acts of kindness I did for them. And whilst Jimin’s was unintentional, it was still so important, and I’m proud of young me for deciding to do her presentation on a serious topic. I’m proud of her for being such a kind person all the time. This truly is karma – I did these nice things for them back then and they’re repaying that kindness back to me when I need it most. And then I realise why Jimin was so desperate to help me – he just wants to help me like I helped him.

‘So, really, y/n, don’t thank us. We owe you,’ Namjoon says, all of them nodding in agreement, and I beam at them, tears beginning to spill down my face. ‘Don’t cry, because you’ll make me cry!’ Jungkook shrieks, all of us laughing as Jin hands me a tissue, and I dab the tears away. ‘God, what’s wrong with me? I never cry this much usually,’ I say embarrassedly, and Jimin grins. ‘Don’t be embarrassed about crying. I think I’d have cried out all of the water in my body if I were you,’ Jimin says, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘Me, too,’ Jungkook says, sniffling a little, and we all burst into laughter when we see that his eyes are full of tears. ‘My God,’ Jin says, his lip curled up in mock disgust, ‘you really are a cry baby.’ ‘Can you blame me?’ Jungkook asks defensively, wiping his eyes, and Jin’s eyes widen. ‘Yes! You’re not the one dying!’ he exclaims, setting the rest of us off again, our laughter carrying in the cool summer air.

46 notes · View notes

imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

Text

PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER SIX ; JUST ANOTHER WOMAN.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

BACK in 1918, Teresa wished she could kiss Tommy again. When he returned home from the war, kissing him felt like kissing a stranger. He was there physically, but not mentally, spiritually. He just wasn't all there. It was no surprise to Teresa. Without even an ounce of experience fighting in the trenches and ducking for cover when a grenade is thrown, she had an idea on what horrors Tommy faced before referring himself as a patriarch. The one thing he wanted to do was drink and throw things around before finally seeing his family again. His lips she used to kiss were cracked dry, trembling from the dirt.

But that was 1918. Teresa kept her patience with Tommy as the shell shock brought him sleepless nights and downing more booze and night terrors. Now it was near end of January 1926, Teresa stood in front of another man she was once in love with, someone who was a soldier for the Spinietta family. Or perhaps a man she might still be in love with...

"Miss Griffith!" Alfie exclaims, getting up from the stool before stopping one of the henchman to march over to the girl. "Uh, uh, uh! Hang on, let me give my best loyal customer a proper greeting."

"Shalom, Mr. Solomons," Teresa smiles, embracing the man.

"Shalom, my dear!" And Alfie kisses her both on the cheeks before remembering Luca was still there. Alfie looked at the Italian. "Well, mate since you now look like you've seen six heads on one body, I'm going to boldly assume you and Miss Griffith had some history. So don't mind me, pretend I'm not here." He sits back down, putting his glasses back on and jotting something in his slip of paper he takes out from his pockets.

Luca stared hard at Alfie, then at Teresa, then back at Matteo. There were no words. What even was there to appropriately react to this? What was even there to say? The match stick was soaked with his saliva from staying in his mouth so uncomfortably, but he bit it down with his teeth to keep it from falling and to just clench it from his sudden frustration.

Teresa was just as at a loss of words when she saw the Italian. She even recognized his cousin standing behind him. What were the odds? She was just talking about him to Michael Gray whom he had an encounter with prior to warning her at her art exhibition.

Teresa hated winter but she loved covering herself with the warm buttoned up trench coat to shape out her slim figure, Luca noticed that. He also noticed how her hair was in waves, just like how the women were styling their hair when there wasn't a special occasion. It wasn't new to see the same thing, but he had to admit, it was nice to see those blonde locks again. Luca always tucked a strand of it behind her ear before lowering his head to kiss her so passionately- the lips- yes, he does remember kissing them, too. But kissing her in that moment wouldn't be as beautiful as the first time.

"Hi." Teresa smiled at him, even though she felt like smashing one of Alfie's rum bottles on the floor in anger.

"Miss Griffith," he greets her. His accent thickened as it drew a low volume. "What're you doing here?"

"Came to see Alfie, I owe him money for bringing rum to my grand re-opening."

"You're still directing in Penarth?"

Teresa nodded. "We showcased art deco."

"Oh. Well, congratulations on the exhibition."

"Thank you." There was a short pause. "How about you? You're here to buy rum?"

"Business," he replies. "We're here on business."

"Yeah, okay. This conversation is as immensely dry as the Sahara desert," Alfie removed his glasses. "Unfortunately, I cannot leave you two unattended with my bread in my bakery unless you're here to pay up."

"This ain't no fucking bakery, Mr. Solomons," Luca snaps.

"Mate, I will smash a lead pipe on your obnoxious fucking face if you make one more comment on my business that you intend on taking from me," Alfie emphasized the last part of his sentence, then switched his expression to smile sweetly at the lady. "Now, you said you're here to pay me?"

Teresa pulls out her purse, handing Alfie a stack of cash. "Ten pounds. But it was worth it, the guests loved your rum, Mr. Solomons. I thank you again."

Alfie chanted, counting the bills in his hands one by one. "Thank you for choosing Solomons' Fine Old Rum. I hope to see you again in the future. Right, I'll leave you two alone now, but please don't fuck on top of my barrels! The bottles are very fragile, it'll cost you another tonne for damages, mate."

And he was gone.

Following the white noise and footsteps from the workers in the background, behind the men he brought with him, it really was just the two of them. Matteo cleared his throat, queuing him and his other men to walk over to pat Teresa down. She cooperates knowing she was armed with a handgun strapped to the inside the coat, in which they confiscated, much to her annoyance. After searching her, Luca kept his stare.

"What?" Teresa says. "You're still in shock?"

"It's just..." he trails off. "Seeing an old face again gives me a weird feeling in my gut."

Matteo leaned over, muttering a comment in Italian, causing Luca to let out a chuckle. Teresa frowned at that. Luca knew Teresa didn't speak Italian as English and Welsh were the only two she was fluent in, not even when they dated she picked up a few basic Italian words and sentences here and there. But having people presumably make a remark at you in a language you didn't know was a barrier, and yet it still stung.

"You said you came here on business?" Teresa didn't even need to enlighten her question. She knew exactly what Luca was doing back in England. "Yet you came to see Alfie. I'm just gonna assume it's a proposition."

"Sure," Luca said dryly. "My men and I will be on our way." Luca turned his heel, chewing on the ends of his match stick.

"Not so fast, Luca," Teresa crossed her arms. "you ended things on a sour note and you don't even care."

He turned back around, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Luca, you hurt me. You were in such a hurry to leave me, now that we're standing in front of each other you're not gonna own up to what you did? Don't you even remember me?"

"Six years ago, I took you to my cousin's wedding and we began seeing each other afterwards. Yes, I do remember you, I just don't remember everything. The average man sees almost a dozen women a day."

"No, they don't," Teresa shakes her head. Do they?

He places the match back in between his teeth. "That was six years ago. You think I'd recall every single thing?"

"Well to me, it was special. You made me happy. But I guess it wasn't special for you."

"I'm serious about how many women we see a day. I would see them from parties, some coming to talk about business," Luca waves his hand. "It's like being in a candy store, you dunno where to start, so you just grab a fuckin' load of 'em." Then he smirks to Matteo. "Un sacco di caramelle." And they both chuckle.

She froze at the thought of Luca seeing other women while he lived back in New York, jumping from one to another. Yet again, no surprise. He's a gangster.

"So I meant nothing to you?" Teresa had to ask.

Luca looked down. "I was happy, can't deny that. I guess I never really had time to settle down with someone. When I went back to America, I've never felt more at home than the old country. I became more successful than ever. My family invested in so much just so we could walk around the streets like we owned New York City. So, when I was staying here after the wedding, there was really nothing else to do other than... squeeze in some fun. So-"

Please don't say it...

"You were just another woman." Teresa felt like her body was shrinking. Luca Changretta was kind to her, supported her work, he let her hold one of his Thompson guns for the first time like it was a trophy. He shared his passions, his secrets, his fears, as she did to same. He even promised to take her to Italy one day. But the man standing in front of her looked at her like she was a creature. Perhaps all gangsters carried that kind of attitude, some of them just don't care after.

Gulping the back of the throat to prevent choking out a cry, she spoke back. "Right. Well, welcome back. It's nice to see you again."

Luca nodded as a response and turned to his men. "Andiamo." He was the first to walk back the way he came, Matteo following, then the rest of his men that stood in formation were the last.

"Can I..." Teresa stops him. He turned back around, raising his brow. "...have my gun back?"

Luca tilted his head at Matteo to retrieve it back to her. Matteo walked back to his boss, continuing to make their way down the corridors.

What a way to make an exit, she thought. She didn't have anyone to follow her around, so she exited the back door all by herself, dragging her cold feet and her shattered heart.

+ honestly, this entire reunion chapter sounded better in my head. so writing this was a huge challenge because i need more practice, therefore i hate this piece. but yes, luca is a bitch. "b i c t h... and in that order."

+ btw, alfie ships luca and teresa. periodt.

#pink+white #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta #luca changretta fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders

26 notes · View notes

taehyungsgrowl · 5 years ago

Note

Let me tell you, Duncan once catch y/n and Jim stalking and thristing about some pretty boys on insta. he had all the feelings, dunc was a little discouraged, self conscious, a little sad with a mix of mad but mostly JEALOUS. He hide in his office for a while thinking about giving them the silent treatment but finally deciding on being more rough (n' extra dom) with them that night trying to show them he is the only one that can make them feel so freaking good 👌 -drunk anon

{gif credit to @arthmorgn}

This is an old ask, but since we’ve all been missing Duncan x Sugar Babies - I thought it’d be a good time to revisit this.

This made my tummy do little flips because.. well.. jealous Duncan is a whole ass concept that I adore. Because thirsty hoe.

A few extra thank yous to @langdonsinferno @wickedlangdon , and @lvngdvns s for helping build my dom!duncan. Also.. considering the standards in this fandom - this isn’t very mean!dom or extra rough. So. Please be nice lol I’ve gotten far too used to writing soft pieces.

As always, thank you for reading & enjoy!

“It’s unfair, really.” Jim slumped into the plush sofa. His thumb scrolled on his screen, “He’s just so damn hot.”

“I know.” Y/N was laid on the couch with her head resting on Jim’s lap. “Let me see!” she took the phone from his hands to closer examine the image on his phone.

“He’s so pretty. I bet he only drinks and eats kombucha and kale salads.” She commented out loud on the photo of the attractive Instagram influencer that both Jim and she obsessed with.

Duncan came around the corner to see his babies playing nice on the couch. He always loved seeing how those two could feed off each others energies. The perfect little bundle.

“He’s just so damn hot.” Duncan heard Jim say. His lips twitched up in a smile, thinking Jim was talking about him. He continued to overhear their conversation - he quickly put together they weren’t talking about him. Heat rushed to his face and his heart dropped.

It was ridiculous to feel upset over it; he knew that. But it didn’t matter. He looked down at himself, noticing how his dark shirt clung a little to his tummy. What did Donavan the Instagram model have that Duncan didn’t?

“I think anyone who has to Facetune their photos so much, isn’t worth all the attention.” Duncan spoke up as he approached them.

“Besides, I can - or rather, I am giving you guys the life style he promotes, am I not?” Duncan sat on the ottoman, scratching his beard - something he always did when he was annoyed. It was only one of the reasons he didn’t play poker with his friends anymore - they figured out his tell tale sign.

Y/N and Jim exchanged a look. What in the hell had gotten into Duncan? “It’s all in good fun,” Jim offered, putting his phone away.

“It’s not like you don’t follow models on instagram. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, daddy?” Y/N liked pushing his buttons. Jim stifled a giggle and avoided Duncan’s eyes. Y/N may be the brat in their relationship, but Jim always managed to go down with her.

Duncan rolled his eyes so far back into his head, “Right. Because I would be jealous of him,” he scoffed. “You two enjoy your screen time. I have work to do.”

“Shit..” Jim whispered quietly.

“He’ll be alright, Jim.” Y/N reassured him. “We gotta think of ways to make it up to him,” she winked and poked at his ribs, making him giggle.

Duncan retreated back to his office to get work done. Or so he told himself. In truth, he hated how jealous he felt, but he couldn’t entertain the idea of his babies wanting someone who wasn’t him. They were his and always will be.

He understood that the person on the screen wasn’t a real threat to him or what he shared with them; but he didn’t want Y/N to start comparing him to an unrealistic hyped up model. Not when they had something real.

His fingers tapped on the smooth mahogany - too lost in his own thoughts to get any actual work done.

The door creaked open and he looked up from his absentminded doodles he’d made on a sheet of paper.

Jim and Y/N treaded lightly into the corridors of his office. Both on them dressed for bed; Jim in his plaid boxers and Y/N in an old T-shirt that came down to her thighs.

Duncan had managed to avoid speaking to them for the rest of the day. Sure, the silent treatment wasn’t the most mature response to the situation, but Duncan didn’t play fair.

“Are you coming to bed with us?” Jim pouted. Sweet Jim, Duncan thought. He could see the desperation on him - both of them, really. He glanced at Y/N and how she nervously toyed with the hem of her shirt.

A dark chuckle passed his lips as he stood from his desk and walked over to them. He noticed they way Jim and Y/N’s hands brushed against each other as he approached them.

“Now,” he grabbed Jim’s chin, looking into his blue eyes, “Are you sure you don’t want someone else in bed with you, baby?” The corner of his eye watched his other sugar baby.

“N-no,” Jim stuttered, “We want you, daddy. Only you.”

“Hmm,” he dropped Jim’s chin and turned to face his girl, “What about you, princess? Are you aching for someone else’s cock?”

She shook her head timidly. The way his crystal blue eyes har darkened and his jaw was tense, made her insides turn.

“Use your words, Y/N.” his eyes narrowed.

“No, daddy,” she licked her lip, not daring to drop her gaze from his eyes.

“Seemed that both of you” each one of his hands found their way to their crotches. He gently palmed over Jim’s hard on while his left index finger slowly ran up and down Y/N’s panties, “were more preoccupied with someone else. Don’t forget; you’re mine.”

Poor Jim began attempted to grind himself on Duncan’s palm.

He felt the blood rush to his lower abdomen as Duncan continued to touch him, “Please,” he finally let out. There was something magical about the way his body responded to Duncan. To his voice, to his touch, even a simple look made his knees go weak.

The older man’s hand stopped briefly. Only enough for him to lean towards Jim. Jim felt Duncan with every fiber of his being - his hot breath ghosted over his lips as they hung open. They always say that the moment before a kiss is better than the kiss itself.

His blue eyes fluttered as his anticipated Duncan’s mouth on him. And he did feel Duncan’s lips. Just not in the tender kiss he expected.

Duncan leaned forward and caught Jim’s plump bottom lip between his pearly white teeth. He tugged back, brining the boys lip with him. A possessive gesture. One that made Y/N grow wetter by simply watching.

“Ahh,” a strangled whimper left Jim’s mouth. Duncan released him with a sinful curve of his lips.

He turned his attention to Y/N, who had now soaked through her cotton panties. His fingers were sticky with her arousal and all he’d done was brush up against her clothed pussy. That’s my girl, he thought.

Duncan brought his fingers up to his mouth - sucking on them slowly.

So s l o w l y.

Jim’s cock twitched in his boxers at the sight of Duncan’s hollowed cheeks and pink bubblegum tongue.

“C-come to bed with us,” she begged, “please,”

Hiss gaze was like that of a tiger watching his prey, glancing between the two of them. His hands had stopped their pleasing motions.

“Show me how much you want me.” he shrugged. His typically cool demeanor never faltering. Unamused smirk twitched (much like his own growing bulge).

Jim and Y/N felt the tension in their shoulders drop. Both still so turned on for Duncan and his power games. He loved to make them edge and beg for him.

Y/N took Duncan’s smooth hand and dragged in under her shirt. He could feel the softness of her skin and each dip and curve of her body. She stopped when he grasped at her breast, “We’re all yours,” she whispered.

Duncan laughed, pulling her in close. His tongue protruded from his lips and licked a stripe up her neck. She shuddered lightly feeling marked by Duncan.

Jim licked his own lips in anticipation again. Duncan always loved making that antsy boy wait. He needed a lesson in patience anyway.

“On your knees, princess.” the rasp of his voice rang low in her ears.

Promptly, she dropped down without missing a beat.

“Now, baby boy.” he grabbed the back of Jim’s hair, tugging it just enough to sting a little, “Gonna show me how damn hot you think I am,” he teased him.

“Yes, daddy.” eager little Jim joined his co-baby on the floor.

Without much more buildup, their daddy took his hard cock out for them. He loved feeling their greedy mouths on him. Never quite fighting for him, but always working together for Duncan.

Y/N Jim let their tongues and wet mouths be the ones who ask Duncan for forgiveness. With each swipe of their tongue on a vein was like a boost to Duncan’s ego.

Fingers laced into their hair as he held them close to him. Each one them taking turns with his cock. Kissing it. Sucking it. Pleasing him.

Jim grabbed Y/N’s chin after releasing Duncan from his mouth and kissed her hard. She felt her lips turn to mush at the hardness of his kiss. Her tongue slipped between his parted lips and tasted the faint taste of Duncan. Jim and Y/N groped at his length and jerked his forward.

“God,” a robust groan came from Duncan, “Feels so good,” his fist clenched in their hair as he released his load on their shared kiss.

His dick stayed hard with the scene of them cleaning his cum off each other. Sloppy, wet, and erotic was the only way to describe it. They shared his hot white gloss.

“Get up,” he commanded, once they had wiped his cum off their faces. They sheepishly obeyed his orders, standing up again. “I’m not done with you yet.” He circled around them; both covered in his cum and with obvious wet spots on their underwear. He could practically see Jim’s leaking red cock through the dark fabric.

Duncan nodded his head towards the desk, a silent order. One that Jim knew well. All it took was one look and Jim knew. He glanced back at Y/N before bending over the desk and spreading his legs slightly.

Blood was pounding in his hot ears as he awaited what Duncan would do to him. Would he start by spreading open his cheeks and ramming his cock inside? Or maybe he’d take his time and swat his ass a few times until it was red, raw, and ready to be pounded. Either wave, Jim was aching at the thought.

He tried to subtly rub himself against the edge of the desk. The hard soon sent a painful wave of pleasure.

Duncan walked over to the expensive mahogany desk. He ran his long fingers over the surface; let the gingerly dance along the smoothes. He knew the way Jim’s stomach was bubbling now. So eager for what awaited his baby boy.

And Y/N. His fucking princess; left soaked and agape as Duncan gave her no further instruction. Yet.

Her eyes were fixated on Duncan’s veiny hand and how it seemed to manuever expertly. She wanted -no. Needed to have them on her.

Duncan’s dark eyes peeled away from her momentarily as he pulled something out of a drawer. He held the shiny, black, toy in both hands slightly rubbing the wand in a jerking motion.

Jim’s pretty pink hole began clenching. Both him and Y/N had previously experienced this toy of Duncan’s. Jim’s mind became hazy remembering all the orgasms that little wand hand given him. He bucked his hips into the desk again, miserable whimper leaving his mouth.

“Oh, baby,” Duncan’s coo was covered in false sympathy, “Desperately trying to get off like that on my desk isn’t going to make me fuck you any faster.”

He turned his attention to Y/N who was now pressing her thighs together. Her sticky arousal gliding down her legs. He motioned her to him with his index finger; another silent order his baby new well.

Y/N stood in between the two men. She couldn’t help but notice how heavily Jim was breathing.

Duncan handed her the sleek anal vibrator. It felt heavy in her hands; usually the one controlling it, controlling her, was Duncan.

He walked over to Jim and tore off his underwear. The cool air hitting his precum soaked head made him hiss. “Duncan, please. It hurts now. I - I need to cum,” Jim cried out.

“Duncan?” Duncan shook his head, “Oh, you know better than that, baby. Don’t tell me someone else is your daddy.” he pulled Jim’s hair back, his head rolled back to look at Duncan. “Who’s your daddy?”

The harsh tug on his scalp made his skin tingle. The mixture of pain and pleasure taking over.

“You!!” Jim yelped, “you, daddy.”

The verbal validation was great for Duncan, but nothing was better than the physical manifestation of having them crumble at his will.

He released his grip on Jim’s hair. Pulling Y/N over to him, he made her stand directly behind Jim. Ghosting his lips over hers, he quietly said, “You’re going to ruin Jimmy for me.” his voice was low and husky.

Duncan spit on two of his fingers and smeared his hot saliva on Jim’s opening.

A barely there gasp came from both of his babies. Y/N watched in awe as Jim’s ass reacted to Duncan’s touch. She gulped silently, nervous about what he meant by ruining Jim.

“You’re gonna follow each one of my orders, princess,” it wasn’t question. He stepped back, seeing the ruffled expressions of his baby girl. “Go on,” He unbuckled the belt of his pants, “Cover it in your spit. Get it nice and wet for him.”

She stuck the toy in her mouth, wrapping her lips securely around it. She made obscene sounds, sucking it for Duncan.

“That’s enough,” he put his hand up and held on to his belt tightly.

“Stretch him, open,” Duncan was so hard. He had a perfect view of Jim’s asshole, red, wet, and gaping.

She carefully pressed the end of the toy to his hole, “Please,” begged Jim.

“I didn’t say stop,” Duncan quipped.

She continued pushing in as Jim cursed under his breath. His knuckles were white from the grip on the desk.

“Turn the pulse on - fastest setting. You know the one you like so much, baby?” he smirked.

Y/N turned the vibration settings on, following Duncan’s order. Jim’s thighs were shaking. He rutted his hips into the sharp edge.

Duncan kneeled behind Y/N and discarded her panties. He smacked her ass ruthlessly, making sure his handprints were left behind. He gripped at her fleshy, full bottom after each spank.

“Harder,” he barely heard her speak. “Harder?” he repeated.

Jim was losing himself as Y/N continued to pump him with the toy.

“Don’t test me, Y/N.” he spanked her ass again, bruising it with his palm.

Duncan spread her cheeks apart, taking in a good look at her glistening pussy.

Her lips were parted by his long middle finger as he gathered her juices. His fingers searched for her swollen bud. Once he found the sensitive bundle, he pinched down on it.

Duncan was brutal on her pussy. His fingers fucked into her deeply, curving and scraping on the spongy pink flesh.

Bratty Y/N was no where to be seen. She was a whimpering mess as Duncan worked her hard, “What was that?” he taunted.

“Tell me who makes you feel so good,” he growled and bit into her ass.

“You daddy,” her childish whine making both Jim and Duncan moan.

Her hold on the toy that penetrated Jim was shaky, making each and every thrust unexpected for Jim.

“That’s right. Never forget who makes you feel like this. Both of you.” he attached his lips to her clit and sucked it. Her taste was as sweet as nectar and he was taking straight from the fruit.

“So, fucking close,” Jim panted. Each wave the toy sent to his prostate sending him into overdrive.

“Turn it off.” he mumbled into her cunt. “Turn off the toy,”

She fumbled shortly but managed to obey him.

“You’re not cumming yet. You’ll cum when I say so,” Y/N slumped forward as he got off his knees - the ache between her thighs still there.

Duncan carefully took the toy out of Jim and began walking out of his office without another word.

“Come on,” he called from the hallway. Jim and Y/N both felt like they could barely walk.

They followed him into the room where he now laid on their bed, his clothes discarded. His own veiny cock sprung proudly against the happy trail on his lower stomach. Y/N loved feeling it against her base skin when the fucked chest to chest.

“Come ride my cock, baby,” Jim nodded eager to please.

He climbed over Duncan, positioning himself above. He grabbed the base of the Duncan’s cock and sank down on it. Y/N had prepared his tight little ass for Duncan.

Jim could feel the indentations of Duncan’s nails sinking into his skin begin to form. He started grinding his hips, forward and back, wiggling. His cock was leaking down his shaft and on to the base of Duncan’s balls.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Duncan touched Jim’s length, he fisted the boys cock and began lazily pumping him.

“Princess, I”m not done tasting my sweet pussy. Come here.” he slapped his own face slightly with his free hand.

Y/N spread her thighs around his face, dropping her dripping cunt on his mouth. His tongue darted inside and began fucking her. His tongue spiraled around her clitoris.

The room was filled with sloppy, wet, sounds of flesh slapping together.

Y/N pulled Jim to her and kissed him. A slow sensual kiss that Duncan wish he could have seen. It was the brushing of her tongue on his mixed with tightening grip Duncan had on his cock that finally had Jim cum. He spurted his stickiness on to his and Duncan’s tummy.

Duncan moaned feeling the hot cream land on him. Before long, he felt himself coming undone for the second time that night.

His tongue movements slowed down as he orgasmed. The slow kitten licks on her clit made her calves tense. She was so close.

“Daddy, please. I wanna cum too. I’ve been good, please, please please,” she pleaded in soft panting.

He nodded beneath her and worked her clit until she collapsed. Jim helped by helping her balance as she rode Duncan’s tongue. His hands caressed down her body, paying extra attention to her full breasts.

Duncan tasted her cum on his tongue as she finished for him.

Sweaty, hot, and messy, they laid on the bed, too warn out to move.

Y/N and Jim rested their heads on their daddy’s tummy, eye drifting off.

“We’re sorry, daddy,” Y/N mumbled almost fast asleep.

"We’re all yours” Jim reassured him.

Duncan smiled down at them even though they couldn’t see his face. He stroked their head lightly, “I know, my loves. I’m all yours too,”

****

Thank y’all for reading. This took me longer than expected because I really wanted to deliver for drunk anon and give her some dom!duncan instead of my go-to soft!daddy!duncan (getting out of my comfort zone a little bit tysm)

Again, thank you for those I asked on for opinions/suggestions. I love reading some dom/harsh stuff, but when it comes to writing - i always go super soft so yeee i appreciate :)

Tags: @1-800-bitchcraft @divinelangdon @dvncans @langdonsdemon @plsfuckmelangdon @langdonsoceaneyes @mega-combusken @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @lathraios @ticklish-leafy-plant @wvntersldr @wroteclassicaly @michael-langdon-appreciation @ritualmichael @langdonswhoreprobably @viridarium-girl @coollangdon @bbyduncan @venusxxlangdon @langdonsfeed @rocketgirl2410 @cocosfern @ccodyfern @lovelylangdons @sammythankyou @maso-xchrist @langdvnshepherd @americanhorrorstudies @icylangdon @emmyrosee @ladynuwanda @flowersiren @starwlkers @littledemondani @queencocoakimmie @fckinsupreme @langdonscherry

I will be rebuilding my taglist soon (?) so please lmk if you’d like to be added or removed.

#duncan shepherd #jim mason #duncan x sugar babies #duncan shepherd x reader #jim mason x reader #jim mason x duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd smut #jim mason smut #smut is not my strongest area #hoc #ttopv #the tribes of palos verdes #house of cards #cody fern #ahs #YEEE I HOPE YALL LIKE

385 notes · View notes

parkerparts · 5 years ago

Text

It Only Takes a Taste

Read it on AO3 here.

Peter Parker, the genius behind Spider Bites’ amazing baked goods, also happens to deliver said baked goods to the coffee shop The Iron Mug. Harley Keener, a barista at The Iron Mug, is smitten.

Parkner Week 2019 Day Three: “Dropped My Croissant” / Baking / Non Powered AU

Harley’s eyes widen as he sees the crowd of tourists streaming into the coffee shop. The cases of baked goods are practically empty, and Harley curses the delivery boy. “Abbie, do we have an ETA on the delivery?”

“Negative. You know, for a genius, that boy is scatterbrained. Peter’s probably just running late. Why? Finally gonna get over yourself and ask the boy out?” His sister emerges from the back room. “Oh, shit. That’s a crowd.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Help me out? You have more patience with hungry tourists than I do.”

“Sure thing. Keep an eye out for the buzzer,” Abbie says, heading to the till to take the first order.

Harley works on autopilot as he makes the first iced latte. He and Abbie have been working at The Iron Mug for the whole summer, and it’s almost second nature by now. The little coffee shop is owned by their family friend Tony Stark, who took a vacation with his fiancee Pepper and left the shop in the Keeners’ care.

“What do you mean that’s the last cake pop?” An angry mother of three clingy children is yelling at Abbie, who wears a thin smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but our afternoon delivery hasn’t come yet. I’m sure it will be here in the next ten to fifteen minutes if you’d like to wait.” The mother huffs but stomps away to a table to wait, anyway.

The buzzer goes off as Harley slides a kale and ginger smoothie to the last waiting customer. “I’ll get it!” he all but yells at Abbie, pushing through the swinging double door to get to the back room. He throws a middle finger over his shoulder as his sister laughs.

Spider Bites is an independent baking company founded by Ben Parker. May Parker took over after Ben’s death, and she runs the company alongside her nephew Peter Parker, whose excellence in chemistry manifested itself in a love for creating outrageous pastries and cakes. Just before the beginning of summer, Spider Bites and The Iron Mug struck up a deal, and now The Iron Mug sells Spider Bites’ baked goods.

The delivery comes twice a day, once in the morning before the shop opens, and once in the afternoon. With the delivery comes the delivery boy and master baker himself, Peter Parker.

Harley opens the back door and absolutely fails at keeping a disgruntled expression when he sees Peter struggling under the weight of a dozen trays. Peter perks up when he sees Harley. “Is this The Iron Mug?”

“Yes, dipshit. Get in here. You’re late,” Harley says, but it comes off more fond than scolding.

“There was traffic?” Peter replies with a cheeky grin.

Harley swallows down a laugh. “Mhm, sure. Still doesn’t get you out of helping me load the display cases.”

“Anything for you, Princess.” Peter winks, and it makes Harley want to scream.

He has a little crush on Peter, which might be a bit of an understatement if he’s being honest. It only took a taste, and that’s how he knew Peter Parker was something special. One bite, and that was enough for him to realize he needed more.

Harley takes half of the stack of trays and follows Peter into the shop. He’s so distracted by trying to calm his rapid heartbeat that he bumps into Peter.

“Harley! I could’ve dropped my croissants!” Harley smacks the boy lightly for the vine reference.

“There better be more than croissants in these trays. I know you like to make guinea pigs out of my customers, but I have one grumpy mother whose kids have been clamoring for cake pops for the past ten minutes. Abbie’s about to drive her head through the register.”

Peter looks sheepishly at Harley. “Whoops.”

Harley stares in horror. “No. Is this a joke?”

Peter’s expression wavers for a split second, and it gives him away. The boy bursts into laughter as Harley smacks him again. “Kidding!”

“You’re the worst, Parker!”

The door to the back opens, and a weary Abbie steps in. “The two of you better stop flirting and start loading up the display before I lose my goddamn mind.”

“Where d'you pick up that potty mouth?” Peter asks, picking up a tray and tugging on Abbie’s ponytail on the way to the counter. “You’re like ten years old.”

“I’m thirteen!” Abbie shouts after him, grabbing a tray of her own.

Harley follows them to the counter, and between the three of them, the display cases are loaded in no time. Peter hands three cake pops free of charge to the mother who waited, along with a personal apology for being late. The lady smiles at him and forgives him immediately because who can resist Peter’s charm? No one can, except for maybe Abbie, and least of all, Harley.

Business at the shop slows down at this hour, so Abbie dismisses them with a wave of her hand and a wink. Harley pointedly ignores her as he leads Peter to the office, where Peter immediately claims the spinny chair as his own.

“I threw in an extra chocolate muffin for Abbie,” he says. “It should be in the bottom tray.”

Harley pouts. “Nothing for me?”

Peter smirks and reaches into his giant apron pockets. They’re seriously giant. Harley once witnessed the other boy pull out a whole hand mixer from his pocket once, and since then, he’s been mildly terrified. “And of course, macarons for my favorite barista, as long as you don’t tell Abbie I said that.”

Harley quickly snatches the plastic box with a grin. “Deal. You’re the best, Petey Pie. What flavors are these?”

“Dragonfruit, apple, and watermelon. I went on an experimenting binge last night, and we had a lot of fruits lying around. There’s also a classic dark chocolate one in there if you hate the other ones. You Keeners have a killer sweet tooth.”

“You supply us with an endless supply of the best pastries in New York. You’re the cause of our sweet tooth.”

“Ah,” Peter says, with a smirk. “So I’m the devil.”

Harley snorts, but he’s so flustered it sounds more like he’s blowing his nose. God, this is embarrassing. “At worst, you’re an enabler. You’re too good to be the devil, more like an angel.”

Peter leans back in his chair and pouts. “But I want to be the devil! Everyone likes villains more because villains seem more attainable and human than the heroes, who are put on a pedestal. Also, the villains are hot.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’d be the hottest superhero around.” Harley freezes as the words come out. Crap. He didn’t mean to actually say that out loud.

Peter laughs, and Harley can feel his face turning red. “Well then, you’ll be my sidekick, won’t you? Or will you be my damsel in distress?”

Harley can’t breathe. Is he dreaming? There’s no way Peter’s actually sort of asking him out. He’s got to be dreaming, but he just wishes his dream self were a bit more clever and clear-headed. “Damsel in distress sounds fine?” His voice breaks at the end, and it’s embarrassing. He’s hopeless, really.

“Great. Saturday night at six o’clock sound good?”

Harley gapes. “What?”

“Princess,” Peter says, leaning forward with a wicked smile. “Will you go out on a date with me on Saturday at six?”

“Yes.” The words are out of his mouth in a heartbeat. It’s all he’s ever wanted, so it’s not like he needs a long time to decide, anyway. “Undeniably yes.”

Peter beams, and it makes Harley’s heart melt how happy Peter looks and how tightly he hugs him as he stands.

“Well then,” Peter says. “I’ll see you tomorrow for delivery?”

“Sure,” Harley replies breathlessly. “Just don’t be late.”

Peter cackles all the way out the back door.

#parkner week #parkner week 2019 #harleypeter #harley keener #peter parker #parkner #parley #fluff

55 notes · View notes

cloneslugs · 6 years ago

Note

oh fuck u sent me multiple so demo/engie/medic/scout and also u can do the one i already sent

ty i love you

Demo

favorite thing about them

he’s super fun!!! but also really smart and caring and just an all around cool dude he’s like B) !

least favorite thing about them

this isnt about him personally lol but like official stuff(comics) lighten the fuck out of his skin and its like. dont

favorite line

i didnt even see this question when i first did this wtf but uh all his “i love you” esque lines are really excellent

brOTP

exclusing soldier lol!!! probably sniper or engie!!

OTP

soldier :’)

nOTP

besides scout & pyro & just like. looking at just the mercs no one really demo deserves love

random headcanon

he likes turtles a lot & just reptiles/amphibians in general just in a kinda neat/favorite animal type way nothing special, he gets around with engie and sniper and they all get drunk and they talk about cryptids, he has a super big heart he loves love, outside of the battlefield he’s pretty apprehensive and cautious moreso than lots of the others at least, he doesnt push himself to be it often just bc he doesnt like leaderly positions but he defo has one of the more valid voices of reason amongst all of them, he loves to help and just listen to people he’s always ready to offer you a drink and take a load off and just talk things out & he’s super chill and easy to talk to anyway, he comes off as really lazy but he can jump up and make do when he needs to

unpopular opinion

idk whats considered popular or not on here lol but like!! he’s not just stupid silly drunk man he’s actually got heart and is pretty intelligent & like probably one of the better off mercs if he wanted himself to be

song i associate with them (this is literally the worst question im so bad at this if i dont have lots n lots of searching time and also i forget all music ever)

cheap thrills - sia

favorite picture of them (sorry 4 bg edits im doing what i have on hand lol)

hes so fucking happy i love you!!!

Engie

favorite thing about them

he’s my fucking husband he makes my heart fucking soar!!! he’s a quiet little sweetheart and he’s just really smart and nice and has morals iusdahui

least favorite thing about them

fucking nothing you animals

favorite line

all his fucking nerdy engineering lines are so fucking good ;____; he’s so smart and passionate god“i love engines! pinion shafts! flanges. mitigating shock loads. but most of all: i love winnin’!” “they won’t know what hit ‘em! though it’ll likely to be bullets. statistically speaking” theres more but im like ;___; just thinking about him ah

brOTP

medic babey!!!!!! i have a thing for shitty best friends that tire each other out (especially on one side) but love each other at the end of the day and are just ride or diepyro also but for completely different reasons :-)

OTP

spy is fucking excellent -.- dont @ me

nOTP

soldier lol (excluding pyro & scout)

random headcanon

i think all the mercs are autsitic but engie is one of my fucking fav ahhhhh, he and medic info dump for hours especially where their special interests overlap and it gets really boring if youre not one of them lol, he loves learning but he hated school so much ):, he has pretty bad anxiety but only under certain circumstance, he’s kinda jealous that spy gets to automatically be seen as a paternal figure bc of scout and he kinda wishes he could settle in like that but he also doesnt think he’d be very good at it for a very prolonged amount of time, he loves math!!!! he loves numbers a lot he associates it with lots of fun and colors and just !!!!! wow wow!!, he has really really really high empathy when it comes to machines and stuff, he loves dogs especially smaller ones, he really loves to fidget w/ tools and stuff bc he always has one on hand and theres lots you can do with some of them, he’s really lazy and has a hard time applying himself sometimes

unpopular opinion

the comics really brush him aside i need to see him more please for the love of god he’s just as interesting as anyone else also fat engie is the only valid engie & also soldier/engie is fucking forced and weird idk where it comes from except they wear hats lol & also people call engie short but if you dont make him 5′00 give or take 3 inches youre doing it wrong and i cant stand by it

song i associate with them

this is like. also a soldier song for me lol but Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - the decemberists

favorite picture of them

ms pauling and medic!! his buddies :) also i just love the shadowboxers art

his fly costume makes me so ;___; i love you little man

also i hate to default to beard engie but this is literally the sexiest man alive

Medic

favorite thing about them

i have a thing for shitty men with halfway decent hearts but are trying(sometimes) okay like okay he’s so chaotic and bad but ;___; i love you

least favorite thing about them

this mostly applies to his Meet the vid but he comes off as really apathetic and cruel? i think in everything else he comes off as a bit nicer if not absentminded and not too socially aware which is :)

favorite line

bro when he warns heavy about that gun in the comix? gay rights U__U also the like “you can take the brain out of the criminal and put it in a pumpkin, but you cant take the criminal out of the brain in the pumpkin” or whatever shit sir i love you

brOTP

engie baby!!!! i also really like spy & sniper bc im weak for shitty support relationships i think med just works really good w/ everyone really in some way

OTP

heavy baby!!!

nOTP

all of the mercs are fine (excluding the usual lol) but like cHeavymed people are freaks die

random headcanon

he has really poor eating & sleeping habits he almost relies on everyone else to keep him alive, he’s autistic & he’s jewish but not really practicing, he pulls & tugs on things when he’s stressed, he’s actually really smart medically he just doesn’t like showing it/messing w/ people (it makes some of the smarter mercs nervous lol), when he gets bored & has nothing to play with he digs for drama he loves to start unnecessary arguments that have no value whatssoever, he’s scared of dogs, he only trusts sniper & maybe heavy to handle his birds if he were to die, heavy & archimedes are like mega comfort objects(?) for him !!, he’s kinda really bad at showing he likes/cares for people, this goes especially hard on engie ):, he has a really big sweet tooth, he cant cook, he doesnt ever censor himself and can be pretty rude, he’s an open book and has no sense of integrity, he got super attached to heavy right off the bat for seemingly no reason and it was just super awkward lol, he gets distracted really easily and drops projects too often when he gets bored/forgets, his room is a mess he doesnt know how to do chores, he’s trans and hasnt done anything to medically transition but he handles everyone on team who is

unpopular opinion

he’s not a fucking sociopath lol like he has a heart and cares he just has a hard time differentiating right from wrong and doesnt think things out i love you

song i associate with them

this is my emo music time i keep changing this but im gonna go It Was A Swift Not A Swallow - Crywank

favorite picture of them

i cant pick between these two he’s saving his fucking boyfriends life & also the 2nd he just looks so peaceful and :)

Scout

favorite thing about them

he’s a sweet boy!!! he just wants friends and he’s stuck with a bunch of middle aged men we have to love his endurance also he’s a little baby faced menace i love you

least favorite thing about them

in the canon i ignore lol.. too straight we cant have that

favorite line

all his lines talking about how the group of them are all best friends and stuff??? i love that

brOTP

sniper !!!! also spy also everyone

OTP

no one really lol pyro is like. the only one im comfy w/

nOTP

sniper lol if we’re talking popular things & all the rest of the mercs really

random headcanon

he’s a super sweet boy who loves everyone on the team, he warmed up the fastest out of all of them and became super attached!!, he really wants a base dog, he really likes to spend time with everyone and listen to them talk like he loves sitting with engie and having him explain nerdy engineering nonsense that he’ll never get but he tries to but its just fun seeing how excited the other person is!!!, he became super close to sniper right off the bat for some reason which is weird bc scout can talk forever and sniper doesn’t know how to hold a conversation for more than 5 minutes but they like hanging out even if it gets tiring, he lives off of sugary drinks medic keeps telling him to stop, he loves to hang out w/ spy and they get on each others nerves but really enjoy it at the end of the day, he has little to no sense of boundaries, he loves to give hugs!!, he really tries to engage with everyone’s interests like i said he just loves making/seeing other people happy, he loves being part of big groups it always just feels like a big family to him

unpopular opinion

he gay :)

song i associate with them

the calculation - regina spektor

favorite picture of them

trans rights!!!

Soldier

favorite thing about them

he is a sweetheart he is my big stupid husband and we both love raccoons =.=

least favorite thing about them

the patriotism…… we arent having that

favorite line

he’s literally so fucking funny especially all his things w/ merasmus and just. everything

brOTP

excluding demo uh !!! SPY!!!! :D

OTP

demo :)

nOTP

engie x.x

random headcanon

he’s super sweet !!! he loves his friends so much, he loves to show off his raccoons to everyone :), he bonds w/ sniper over wildlife(raccoons), everyone has a lot of patience w/ him bc he struggles to communicate things a lot and kinda needs his time to get points across, he’s actually really observant and it would be really good if he just didnt jump to wild conclusions based off of it all the time, he’s really conscious of his actions and how they affect others like he’s kinda violent impulsively but hes taken note of who is and isnt okay with it or who’s okay w/ him saying what in front of them, he’s really protective of his friends!!! he knows theyre capable but he loves looking out for them, he loves to drag them off on fitness expeditions/training but he tires out before a good number of them/gets bored, he wakes up the earlies he loves the mornings, he can cook but nobody knows it, like scout he loves to indulge in what other people like but he’s more handson he loves to screw in screws for engie or hand medic tools or read out loud to spy or heavy or show sniper things he catches/turn over rocks with him, he loves medics birds but doc wont let him touch them ):, he wants to get a base dog too, he has no volume or tone control, probably the best hugger, he’s kinda shy about personal things like himself in general or being trans & liking guys he’s actually pretty decent at keeping personal things to himself not that he wouldnt share it just feels weird,

unpopular opinion

he’s not just like shouty mean stupid man,,, he’s actually really sweet

song i associate with them

rejoice- AJJ

favorite picture of them

i have worse naked honey pics but this is fucking it lads gay rights

#im like. digging thru my tee eff 2 playlist on spotify this is hell #asks #tf text #sorry this is long lol i feel like im leaving out so much #also shout out to cecil youre the only valid person out here #triplecrossed #if i missed anything kick me #these make me so happy to do i love talking and talking and talking about my interests

2 notes · View notes

murfeelee · 6 years ago

Text

CC Creators Questions

I saw this on my dash and got so excited -- a questionnaire for CC makers! :D

1. What was the hardest project you’ve worked on so far?

Y’all have no bloody clue how many unfinished projects I have given up on, and how much time I spend/waste on CC I never even finish. I often have no idea what I’m doing, and once I reach a certain point where the effing thing just won’t come out right, and I don’t know who to ask for help, or I do and never get a response, I just lose total willpower to keep going.

2. How long have you been creating cc?

2010-ish -- that’s when I first started uploading to TSR at least, ider. Early on it was just simple wall art (an effton of murals) but I kept reading the tutorials at BPS & MTS & TSR, and once I figured that out I started trying out rather craptastic conversions that are still up for DL, if y’all wanna point and laugh at me. :P Effing sad. Some of it turned out pretty okay though, IMO.

3. What’s your most favorite thing you’ve created?

At TSR my favorite CC uploads are the Clutter Bug and LOTR Scribe sets.

The admins gave me such a hard time when I first submitted this, and I had to throw out like half of the objects included in the set, cuz of the effing UV Maps and blah blah. But the rest of it came out cool.

I am constantly using those objects in my lots. Constantly. The LOTR period was also the very first time I learned about making Alpha Channels on .dds textures -- that opened up so many possibilities! Single objects I’m also really proud of over there are the Ivy/Flower Column, and the Vintage Art Collage, which I also use a lot.

At Tumblr this is a lot harder for me to decide on, since after I came here I could do and make so much more than what was allowed at TSR. I think I had the best time converting from The Witcher 3. I effing love that game. But I also think just the process was the easiest for me, cuz I’ve been doing this crap for a while now and finally knew wtf I was doing -- except the CAS stuff. O_O LAAAAAWD! I gave up on that junk quick fast and in a hurry -- NOPE! Not today, Satan! But yeah, I really like some of the stuff I did from that game, like the Peacocks (duh) and everything I shared for my Lupo Bianco gameplay.

4. What’s your most hated thing you’ve created?

Things I hate don’t get uploaded. XD Y’all think I complain about the crap I DO upload -- that’s cuz I’m being honest when I tell y’all that my work has flaws that I don’t know how to fix, or don’t have the energy to work on anymore. Practically all of my CAS CC is a raggedy amateur mess. I hold on to a lot of crap that I just can’t upload in good consciousness, cuz I know how I react when I install others’ CC and I’m using it thinking wtf, did they upload the wrong file by accident? :P

5. What inspires you to create?

When I first started, it was cuz it was still early in TS3, and the game was still pretty empty, and I didn’t have any of the EPs/SPs/Store CC yet, so I was desperate for content. Then once I started converting, and realized that I could extract stuff from other games myself, I immediately knew that I wanted to recreate my favorite games in TS3. I’m inspired by the fandoms I’m part of, and my style of simming mostly revolves around me trying to create my own extended version of other games and shows I like.

6. What gets you unmotivated to do anything or to delete your project?

Failure. When things start going wrong, I quickly get frustrated and lose patience. I post WIPs sometimes that I don’t even end up revisiting. I just can’t fix the crap, so I rapidly lose the energy or desire or interest in the entire project. I often blame it on laziness, when really I just give up. :\

7. What’s one thing you wish you knew how to do/do better?

I generally just stick to what I know and am comfortable with, which is why y’all don’t see me making build mode stuff, or much functional buy mode cc, or mods/scripts, or creating skintones or poses, or any of the cool stuff I’d love to make but just can’t figure out for the life of me. U_U

8. How long does it usually take you to make something?

Depends on the project, and my motivation to see it to the end. Some stuff will sit on the back-burner for literal years before I finally go back to it. I’ll tell myself I’ll work on it later. Lies, mostly. ^_^

9. Is there a certain schedule you stick to when publishing?

Unless there’s a certain holiday/event going on, where the CC needs to be finished now! now! now! (Halloween & Lunar New Year are my busiest times), I just do what I want. I get so distracted, and often I’m working on a zillion things at once. Sometimes I’m running on pure adrenaline and not sleeping, to make sure I finish the CC on time. I feel bad if I miss something going on that I could’ve participated in, but most times I just tell y’all the CC’s still in beta, and it’ll be ready when it’s ready. :P

10. Your favorite programs to work with?

Crazy as it sounds, Milkshape. :P I effing hate Blender. I don’t understand it -- there are too many buttons and controls and everything’s just a confusing mess. 3DS Max is easier for me! O_O I legit can’t even figure out the frikkin view/camera in Blender! And you constantly have to switch between modes, and everything’s buried under all those effing THINGS on the sides, and I can’t stand it. >_<

11. Who do you look up to (creator wise)?

For CC in general, I worship Sandy/AroundTheSims; always have. Everything they make is just so clean and professional and works splendidly in game. Jelly.

12. How many projects do you have at the moment?

An ungodly number, half of which will no doubt be abandoned before y’all even get the chance to hear about them. :P

13. Screenshot your wips folder (if you have one)

Cute of you to assume I have just one WIPs folder, in one fixed location. XD

That’s what my backup’s thematic specific folder looks like, but that’s not where I keep any of my other game conversions WIPs -- those are all over the place. I’ve had to restart several projects after my external harddrive broke, and now especially I’m keeping everything in different locations and on different drives.

14. Do you plan on creating for a long time or is there a certain period you know you’ll stop?

Dunno if I’ll ever stop, but I know I’m slowing down; I have been for a while now. I’m tired. I hate making CC. It’s stressful, exhausting, time-consuming, and no dang fun, especially when crap is going oh so wrong and you have to keep quitting the game, doing crap over, loading the game, seeing if it’s fixed, and trying not to cry when it’s not. I do this crap out of desperation, when there’s something in particular that I want that I can't find a good substitute for in the game or community at large. So as long as I’m still simming, I know I’m gonna keep being forced by necessity to make crap. But I doubt I’ll ever go back to the workhorse nonsense I was up to in like 2015/6 or whenever my “heyday” was, when I was still experimenting like mad and learning everything.

15. What helps you keep focus during your creating process?

I play a lot of music, that fits the theme of the CC I'm working on, or is lifting my spirits at the time. I can’t work in silence. IDKY, it just makes me bored and tired.

I tag all y’all who ever made anything for us poor unfortunate souls!

#simblr #questionnaire #murf is a derp #sims 3 cc

30 notes · View notes

kendrixtermina · 3 years ago

Text

More thoughts re: Suzane Stabile’s books

Now the popularity of Stabile’s books is probably due to their acessible style & concrete personal examples that are gonna click with the sorts of ppl who have limited patience for abstract theory or tales of human dysfunction. I must admit that with the first few I got I was a bit underwhelmed cause there wasnt that much... new stuff, but the anecdotes are data to train your feelers on, & the way that loads of ppl keep recommending them made me curious about taking pointers from her presentation.

But her best original theory work is prolly the bit on the stances/hornevian triads & how that relates to the centers. It’s not only very useful for practical applications like typing & life-improving but genuinely thought-provoking.

I do find it interesting how she conceptualizes the triangle/attachment types as using their dominant center for information gathering but not processing or decision making.

Most obvious in the case of the 3 - they pick up ppl’s reactions, the emotions associated with cultural tropes, what ppl admire etc. but have pragmatic & action-oriented decisionmaking.

6s the most data & systems affine ppl you’ll find, but they’re really up there with 4 and 2 as one of the most emotion-ruled types.

It’s also definitely true that the triangle types vary - you find more intellectual & more emotional 9s, & I’m also reminded of Cordon’s observation that some of the “pure counterphobic” 6s are that way because they’re more kinesthetics-ruled & parse their high arousal states as excitement.

Or the work on how the other types tend to ‘blend’ the two centers that they do use - You see that factoid but this is the first time that it was really explained what it means.

I could figure that it means putting your feelings ‘in context’ of mental frameworks, but that it also means being emotionally attached to your ideas & this is why it can feel exposing to voice them. Since reading that I’ve noticed all the times that I’ve felt that sort of reluctance before, for example, making a post - Is it on topic? Is it soud? Is this all relevant for informing others or is this too much talking about me (...or else what? What does my subconscious think will happen if I’m not “on topic”? - that I will “impose” or look incompetent, probably because I have this base assumption that no one wants to hear non-useful things. As if the very existence of gossip magazines didn’t disprove this. )

This whole repressed centers thing probably also influences recovery processes, cause you’re likely to be “stuck” in your weak spot.

Like you hear stories from survivors who knew they were feeling shitty but needed conceptual frameworks to recognize what was happening to them - like naming abuse tactics, how they work, why they make you feel shitty. Those were prolly Dutiful Types.

Then other ppl get stuck at the stage of admitting there was a problem & feeling the pain of it. - I recall that 7-y youtuber talking about how the hardest part was letting go of wanting to see at least some part of her parents as good. Or the example of the 3 athlete who became a tennis player to please his demanding parent & took long to realize that he actually hated tennis the whole time.

I think of Trump defending his crappy father so as to not look like a victim. No wonder then that he can’t have compassion for anyone else that he doesn’t even have for his younger self.

Then you get some who know they felt like shit and know they were manipulated but consequently dumping the toxic person is hard, they’re easily convinced into taking them back, feel guilty for setting boundaries etc. - Those may well be 9s, they’re certainly experiencing strong inner messages that hating & separating is wrong.

Though that’s rather 9-specific both in the ‘disagreeing is hard’ problem and the fact that these do have a high native capacity for action when they can access it.

I remember when I saw one of the uni shrinks for my procrastination issues & at first it did really nothing. I went there, I related what happened to me, I got pep talked - but it did nothing. Praise or reassurance does nothing. The therapist lady, who was most likely a a 2, tried to do a kind maternal vibe - I didn’t catch onto that for months until she verbally voiced it.

With many ppl that would have been a good approach - put them at ease first so they speak openly etc. I wanted solutions & she wasn’t really on the problem solving wavelenght. If I tried to be objective about the situation she took it as pessimism or self-deprecation. But it wasn’t about self-esteem (on the heart level, where she was coming from) it was about objectivity.

Or she’d think I was ´holding back. “Those were thoughts, tell me your feelings”.

She was expecting me to be hiding my real feelings behind a wall of superego ‘shoulds’ kind of answers or self-esteem problems cause that’s what she would struggle with - & with many other ppl that approach would have worked.

But as far as I was concerned I was being totally honest. Maybe it sounded like thoughts or was packaged in them, because it would be blended for me, but I wasn’t holding back, I was describing them as best as I could. In that moment my response was to try & describe them better but on my way home I started feeling a bit pissed off.

Those were my feelings. That’s how I experience all my feelings if that’s not a feeling then I haven’t had one in my life - why are mine not good enough why don’t they count? cue thought spiral about how she just doesn’t understand & my terrible inssuficiency, 4 wing go brrrr. When I got home I was just exhausted and worked up.

Then one day that lady was on vacation and I got put with one of her co-workers, who was probably a 7.

I see now why this worked much better: Not only did he speak “conceptese”, but he had the natural connection from concept to action that I lacked.

He dealt with it very practically: “Stress makes you scattered, your Backstory made you more suceptible to stress, so we need to make you less stressed and less scrambled. ” I think I suggested meditation myself & he thought that was exactly the right idea. He linked me some sourceswhere I could look up for myself why it works as well as some general resources re: how motivation works, and to this day, meditation does make me less scattered especially if I remember to do it early in the day.

I didn’t need to ruminate my Tragic Backstory again (if anything I needed to do it less cause as a withdrawn type I of course tended to get stuck in it), I didn’t need to hear why and how I was treated wrong - I knew that even as a child, and pointed it out as the mistreatment was happening: “That’s manipulation”, “That’s a guilt-trip” and 100% trusted my judgement in that which is probably unusual compared to most children.

Of course for other people such an epiphany would trigger a huge arousal state, big rush of chemicals that lead to rewiring pathways, & they’d be less ‘blocked’ in changing their behavior based on that realization.

In my case - it’s just like the example in the naranjo book. We analyzed the problem to death, but then next week the client comes again, and, there has been no change in behavior. None of the insight has penetrated down into the midbrain. They say knowing is half the battle but I ain’t no good at whatever the second half is.

one guy on reddit likened it to feeling “like being a ghost in a powered down mechsuit” ... my metaphor was more dramatic, honestly, like I, as a self-aware intelligence, barely even exist since i cant effect anything not even my own darn meatsuit.

The knot was all in the action & the physiological responses.

I remember that TED talk that was technically unwanted sexual arousal but the general gist was that learned pavlovian responses can be very divorced from your feelings, thoughts or will. The dog does not want to eat the bell - the bell is just associated with food. There’s a habituated response to things associated with sex, but most salient for my case, there’s a habituated physiological response to situations associated with fear.

I will try to do a thing, there will be this subtle spike of dread and ‘I can’t do this’ and before I know what happened ive opened a new browser tag or im pacing around pondering some unrelated topic. Or I’m answering ppl’s questions on reddit for some quick cheap feeling of non-uselessness.

Geez. being a human is so hard and ridiculous.

I’m thinking also of that example that Stabile gave of her own life where she was rushing through the supermarket on a busy day and caught herself looking around and thinking “wait, does anybody here need help?”... in the supermarket. in a hurry. (She’s a 2 in any case anyone reading this in unaware)

There’s kind of multiple layers to your type first the conscious attitudes where there is still something like a valid unique perspective that you’re adding & where your conscious attitudes can make you more flexible, but then there’s the much less nuanced layer of kneejerk reactions.

“I want my privacy because I want to do my projects” is a legitimate logical decision; Getting irritated when people unexpectedly talk at me is a kneejerk response. It happens before I ask myself if maybe I want to talk to this person.

I’ll go visit my relatives & spend all the time on my laptop & find myself looking to extricate myself from conversations (”not now im thinking”, “let me get my water first”...) when the whole reason I drove across the country was to hang out with my family - I can sit at the laptop at home, right? Or when they’re asleep or at work.

So often in any situation I’m looking at the clock wondering when it will be over. In university lectures that I always dreamed of taking. Waiting for everything to be over. What am I even trying to get to, death?

It makes me think of this time I hooked up with this guy & I half psychoanalyzed him from his backstory & told him little known facts of the nerve endings of the nether regions and so far, ok thats odd and maybe a bit predictable but thats still flavor - its something that may repell some ppl but hook others. You cant get that from the other girls.

but what was just an automatism with few redeeming features is how I was then looking to limit the scope of the conversation - I got the impression he probably wanted to talk a bit more, and there I was ambivalent about that, putting my clothes back on, saying that I wanted to get another drink at the bar - like why didn’t I talk with him more? What reason is there not to do it. To go sit by myself, which i can do at home?

of course i didnt catch that I had just Done A Pattern until right after when i was sitting there with my drink and thinking to myself & noticing with some delay the relaxed and elated feelings from the earlier encounter & music about some book I’d read about the role of sexuality in the disrcharge of phychological tension and like... why?

it was just as nonsensical as that it about Stabile feeling she needs to help random supermarket goers.

I suppose to some extent we wouldn’t get the ‘higher level talents’ without the unconscious practice from the low-level versions but obviously there are situations where our automatisms shoot us in the foot.

Like - even while writing this I received an unexpected text - and since I was already thinking on this topic, I noticed the immediate tensing, the ‘how much will we write back & forth, how long will it take, should I act busy & reply later maybe?’

And this was someone I was glad to hear from after a long time, she’d changed numbers & I didn’t get her new one being as irregular as I am with keeping in touch.

It’s that same barely-conscious, low-level tensing when I walk out the building & some neighbor shows up, or - whenever another person is present, less so with very familiar people or after I’ve had some time to ‘thaw up’. Whenever anyone is watching - or at least, when I can’t tune them out. If I’m lost in thought or wearing headphones I can be in ‘inner mode’ in a big crowd (reportedly, this is very different for 9s)

Which makes you want to pour out one for the 6s, they get no peace in either the inner OR the auther world, thats why they’re like that. I’ve heard some describe it as if they’re basically always ‘watched’ feeling the gaze of the authorities, the superego. Not me. When I am finally alone it’s like a big sigh of relief.

We’ve all seen those diagrams with the arrows & the two circles about where the but recently I’ve been groking a whole other layer about what they mean.

For example, my mother and I have exactly opposite preferences when it comes to closing doors & we often default to the one we prefer. I like people to close the door when they leave. I cannot concentrate if I can hear people talking outside the room, I can’t naturally sink into concentration as is my tendency because what if someone wants something. My mother meanwhile doesn’t like it when peoople close the doors. She says small rooms make her claustrophobic, she likes to hear the sounds of the other people.

But of course! It makes perfect sense! My mom is a 7. For her, ‘inner mode’ is the uncomfortable place & being engaged with the outside world is comfortable. As an extrovert she might even work & concentrate better with more stimulation, too little is unpleasant.

“Isn’t it stressful to have that appartment to yourself?” & I didn’t know what she meant. What’s the stress, cleaning maybe? But I bet it would be super stressful to a 7, for 7s stress happens when you’re alone.

im not saying that all 7s necessarily dislike small rooms but it could well be related.

#enneagram

0 notes

marypsue · 7 years ago

Text

Raising Stakes 24 / 24

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen / Part Seventeen / Part Eighteen / Part Nineteen / Part Twenty/ Part Twenty-One / Part Twenty-Two / Part Twenty-Three / Part Twenty-Four

Here it is, at long last! Thank you all for sticking around to see this one completed!

I want to say a big huge thank you to everyone who made art or wrote fic for this AU, left a comment or sent me an ask, or otherwise let me know that you were enjoying reading what I was writing. You made this project so much fun to work on, and I don’t know how far through it I would’ve gotten without you. I’d also like to say a special thank you to @seiya234 for her illustrious beta-ing services which always helped me out of the corners I wrote myself into, and @ancientouroboros, who has been this fic’s biggest cheerleader and has drawn me a truly stunning number of excellent vampstans.

There’ll be an author’s commentary on the fic coming...eventually, and I may post one or two extended scenes, but for now...that’s all, folks!

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue.

...

Stan left before the sky was all the way dark.

At least he’d got the Stanleymobile back from the impound, so he didn’t have to sneak away on Jimmy’s bike. It was one thing to run out on your partner in the middle of the night - well, day. It was a whole other thing to steal their stuff.

Which was why he hadn’t swiped any small valuables of Jimmy’s on the way out, either. He’d just cleaned out the contents of Jimmy’s wallet to add to the wad of bills he’d kept stashed under the mattress. Somehow, in the pit of his stomach, Stan knew that Jimmy would understand.

Somehow that only made him feel worse.

The last of the sun was just sinking below the horizon as Stan loaded up the Stanleymobile, casting them both in shadow. Overhead, the last rays of sunlight lit the tops of the buildings with dull fire. Stan slammed the trunk, wincing at the noise it made, and climbed into the front seat.

He let himself look back over his shoulder at the apartment building, just once.

Then he wrenched the key in the ignition, and turned back to face the road. Probably better he got out while the getting was good, anyway. Even a guy like Jimmy’s patience had to run out sometime.

And Ford needed him.

Stan pressed his foot to the accelerator, and the Stanleymobile shot forward.

...

Everything was a bit of a blur, after that.

Stan was vaguely aware of someone colliding softly with his back, arms wrapping around him and Ford both, of warmth and pressure surrounding him, of Susan’s voice laughing in his ear. “You’re okay!”

Stan nodded, or thought he did. Everything felt heavy, like when gravity had come back it had come back doubly strong. He realised, with a jolt of horror, that he was less hugging Ford and more leaning against him to stay upright.

And that there was laughter rising from the person he had his arms around.

It took a huge effort, but Stan wrenched himself backwards, away from Ford. With a little distance, though, he could see that his fears were unfounded. Ford was shaking his head, a smile of disbelief on his face as he reached up and rubbed one hand against his right eye, and his laughter was purely relieved and surprised. He looked up at Stan, and sucked in one shuddering breath, the smile slipping off his face for an instant before he said, wonderingly, “We are okay.”

Stan reached out and grabbed Ford’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ford was shaking so hard that Stan could feel it through his arm, but that awestruck smile bloomed back across his face as he stared down at his own hands. “Bill’s...gone?” It was almost a question, but then he clenched his hands into fists. “Bill’s gone. He’s gone. And we’re alive -”

Stan coughed. Ford started, his head snapping up to look at Stan, and Stan bobbed his head, rolling his eyes and grimacing. “Well. More or less.”

Ford blinked at Stan, and Stan huffed out a breath. “Aw, c’mon, Sixer, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

By the way Ford froze up, Stan figured he’d put two and two together.

“Shit, that’s right,” Carla said, from somewhere behind Stan. “Better get some blood in him, or he’s going to have a really bad time.”

“They’re both going to have a bad time,” Susan agreed, and pulled away from hugging Stan. Stan silently mourned the lost warmth. “You two both got pretty beat up, you’re gonna need something in you to heal you up.” There was a beat, and then she said, “Stan? How you feelin’, hon?”

Stan drew in a breath, and considered.

“Like shit,” he answered, honestly. “ ‘m good, though. Don’t worry about me. What’s this about Ford needing blood?”

“Oh yeah,” Carla said, and Stan realised she was keeping her distance deliberately. “Within the first twenty-four hours, or his turning’s going to be very drawn-out and painful. You...knew that’s how it works, didn’t you?”

When Stan didn’t answer, she sucked in a sharp breath, and didn’t say anything more.

“Well, I can take care of that,” Susan said, just as the silence was starting to get awkward. “I’ve got Boyish Dan Corduroy on speed dial, he’ll be over here with a couple of bucks in ten minutes if I ask. And don't worry about him, either, he knows sometimes you just need some emergency wild game.” She reached across Stan to rest a hand gently on Ford’s other shoulder. “Uh, Stanford? I’m sorry, but -”

Ford gave himself a shake, and cleared his throat, his eyes focusing back onto Stan’s face. “No, no, none of that will be necessary.”

Stan frowned. “Hate to break it to ya, poindexter, but -”

Ford shook his head. “I’ve recorded a recipe in one of my journals, an antidote for infection by any kind of undead creature. So long as you catch it within the first twenty-four hours, it’s a complete cure. I’ll be back to my old self in no time, and then everything can go right back to the way it was.”

Stan opened his mouth, and realised he had no idea what to say.

“Hold that thought,” he said, finally. “Can we take this conversation upstairs or something? It’s freezing down here.”

“In a moment,” Ford answered, pushing himself to his feet. “There’s one thing I want to take care of first.”

He stood, turning to face the portal. For a moment, he just stayed there, motionless, looking up at the dead, blank eye in the centre of the upturned triangle with an expression that Stan couldn’t read.

Then Ford threw himself straight at the portal and slammed his fist into its strangely-iridescent metal face. The portal made a sound like a bass drum being kicked, and Stan could swear it wobbled, just slightly.

Ford hammered against the portal with both fists, throwing in the odd sharp kick to the point of the triangle. At first, it didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, but then the portal shuddered in its settings and started to wobble more and more violently, until it looked like it was caught in a high wind.

Ford slammed both fists against the portal’s face, and stopped, leaning against its face and breathing heavily.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was a long, drawn-out groan, like a giant stubbing his toe, and the portal slowly, slowly started to tip backwards. There was a second where Stan thought it was going to stop, get stuck leaning at that shallow angle - but then, with a wrenching scream of metal on metal, it fell backwards in one long arc, collided with the back wall, and toppled off to crash to the floor on one of its three sides.

Ford watched it fall, raising an arm to protect his eyes from the cloud of dust it kicked up on impact. As the dust settled, he brushed off the lapels of his trenchcoat, and turned back to face Stan and Susan, beaming.

“Right,” he said, and then, patting the side of his face and the top of his head as the smile slowly slipped off of his face. “Stanley, where are my glasses?”

...

It was getting close to sunrise, Stan realised as they emerged from the basement. He could feel the familiar heaviness starting to settle into his eyelids, into all of his limbs.

Ford, by the looks of things, was feeling it worse than Stan, which wasn’t surprising. He wasn’t used to nocturnal life yet. Probably never would be, if he got his way. He started out leaning against Fiddleford’s shoulder, but by the time they reached the hidden door leading out into Ford’s office-slash-lab, Fiddleford was practically carrying Ford up the stairs.

“ ‘msorry,” Ford slurred, as Fiddleford deposited him gently in his rolling office chair.

“Now don’t you fret, Stanford,” Fiddleford said. “We’ll get you patched up -”

“No.” Ford reached up and grabbed his friend’s arm as Fiddleford turned to leave. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford.” The motion seemed to take more out of him than he had to give, and he slumped back in the office chair. “Shoulda listened t’you sooner.”

Fiddleford froze. Stan tried to find somewhere else to look that wasn’t at the trail of splatters of Ford’s blood that was soaking into the hardwood floor.

Luckily, he wasn’t stuck staring at the blood Bill had spilled for too long. Stan started when Carla’s hand settled gently on his shoulder, but he followed as she steered him out of the stairwell and away from the Fords’ conversation.

“All right,” Carla said, quietly, with a glance in Ford and Fiddleford’s direction. Stan caught a snatch of Fiddleford saying something about a memory gun, and shuddered, turning his attention back to Carla. “The day is saved, the evil is defeated, and somehow we’re all miraculously in one piece.” She looked down at Stan’s torso, and the holes she’d put in it earlier. “Admittedly, some of us more than others, but still. I think it’s about time for that explanation you owe me.”

Stan tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his wince.

“Stan?” Carla asked, her expression turning apprehensive. “Oh, come on. Please tell me you have an actual explanation this time, and it isn’t the New Jersey Clamdiggers’ Disease all over a-”

She stopped, looking up at Stan with her eyes wide. “Oh. My god. I knew you made that shit up, but. You made it up to cover up the fact that you were a -”

Carla slapped a hand to her forehead, staring at Stan in disbelief. Her voice was very low and dangerously sweet when she said, “How long, Stan?”

Stan smiled sheepishly.

Carla dragged her hand slowly down her face.

Thankfully, Susan chose that moment to sling an arm around each of their shoulders and pull them into an awkward half-hug. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

Carla made a choked noise in the back of her throat. It might have been a scoff colliding with a laugh, or possibly Susan was just squeezing her too tight.

Despite himself, Stan couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking up at Susan, forcing himself to focus on her face and not the artery pulsing invitingly in her neck, a few scant inches from his mouth. This was really not the time. “Yeah, y’know, we actually do. Thanks for saving my butt all those times.”

“Awwwww,” Susan cooed, and gave Stan and Carla another crushing squeeze. “What’re friends for?”

Stan shut his eyes, and took a deep breath in, before letting it out slowly. He was a little surprised to realise he was still smiling.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” Carla said, and Stan reluctantly opened his eyes. “But I seem to recall somebody saying something about this guy needing blood.”

“ ‘mfine,” Stan blurted, automatically. He could feel the pulse in Susan’s arm where it was slung across his shoulders, a steady, comforting rhythm.

“You are not fine, mister,” Susan said, letting go of Stan’s shoulders and pulling back. “I’ll go give Boyish Dan a call, he’ll be over here in two shakes. Mr., uh, Ford? Where’s your phone?”

Ford broke off what had been, apparently, a very tense but largely one-sided conversation to gesture vaguely in the direction of what Stan assumed, based on the stacks and stacks of moldy cookware, had probably once been the kitchen.

“Don’t bother,” Fiddleford said. “Professor Genius here didn’t pay the bill.”

Ford muttered something indistinct from inside the upturned collar of his trenchcoat. Fiddleford spun back to face him.

“An’ I told you that I got spooked when yer twin rolled in an’ got a little trigger-happy with that rememberatin’ gun o’ mine! Y’don’t think I just wear overalls of my own accord, now, do ya?”

Ford mumbled something else, and Fiddleford rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know ya told me ta destroy it, but y’just don’t understand, it’s a revolutionary scientifical breakthrough and -”

He stopped, mid-sentence, and then looked down at Ford, eyes narrowing. Ford, slouched down so far in the office chair that his face was almost completely obscured by his collar, still somehow managed to look smug.

“Oh, don’t you go a-lecturin’ me on what you said about the portal,” Fiddleford harrumphed. “Now. If y’all’ll excuse me, I got some memory guns t’hunt down and destroy.”

“Oogh, don’t mention hunting right now,” Stan muttered. Susan laughed. Stan wasn’t sure why.

“Wait, memory gun?” Carla asked, with a glance over at Stan. “That wouldn’t happen to erase memories, would it?”

“You betcher baby corns it does!” Fiddleford stopped, and gave himself a little shake. “Though I...wouldn’t recommend a-tryin’ it on this evenin’s events.”

Carla’s smile was more like a grimace. “I was wondering more about what happens to those memories after they’re erased.”

“Oh, they’re all stuck in a glass tube,” Fiddleford said, waving a hand. “Never know when y’might need ‘em.”

“I think there’s some of mine that I need,” Carla said. “Is there a way to get them back?”

“Years an’ years o’ intensive therapy!” Fiddleford said brightly. Stan was pretty sure he heard a long-suffering groan rose out from the depths of the collar of Ford’s coat. “But you c’n watch ‘em anytime. We got a viewer over at the Society of the - well now, don’t think I rightly oughtta tell a stranger that. But I can take ya there if’n y’let me blindfold ya.”

Carla sucked in a breath, briefly closing her eyes, before she let it out again in a single sharp burst.

“What the hell,” she said. “I’ve done stupider things for less payoff. Let’s do it.”

Fiddleford beamed.

“Stanford, where’s your journal?” he asked, turning back to Ford’s chair. “I’ll pick up ingredients for your antidote while I'm out.”

Ford jerked his head sharply to the left, towards a heavy, dark wood desk covered in drifts of paper. Fiddleford nodded, and started to rifle through the papers.

Stan didn’t see if he found the journal or not, because Carla reached out and took his arm. Her hand was so warm, even through Stan’s coat, her expression unusually serious as she met Stan’s eyes and held his gaze. It was enough to freeze Stan’s words in his throat.

For a moment, Carla hesitated, looking over every inch of Stan’s face like she was trying to read something written there, maybe in another language. Stan held his breath, watching her watch him, until she let out a sigh and shook her head.

“Stan -” she started, but Stan cut her off. Gripping her firmly by the shoulders and then holding her at arm’s length instead of going straight for the throat took an enormous effort, but somehow he managed.

“Nope.” It was Stan’s turn to search Carla’s face, now, for he didn’t know what. She’d aged, he realised, a little of the softness of her face melted away, a few lines winking from the corners of her eyes. “You gotta go back to California, right? That flower shop needs you.”

Carla nodded, smiling hugely, but she ducked her head almost as soon as the smile crossed her face.

Stan nodded, too, and gave her a pat on the shoulder before taking a step back. “You go - get your memories back, or whatever. And - and don’t wipe out. Those roads are icy.”

“I won’t.” Carla looked back up at Stan, and now her smile, even though it was much smaller and more fragile, actually looked real.

Stan shoved down the urge to reach out and brush her hair back behind her ear, cup the side of her face with his hand, lean in and press his lips to hers one last time. It felt like there was still something important he hadn’t done, but what could he say? Sorry I lied to you for our entire relationship? Sorry I got you kidnapped and brainwashed? Sorry I got your memory erased? Sorry I never treated you the way you deserved to be treated and I lost one of the best things that ever happened to me because of it?

“Hey,” he said, finally, and then, when Carla just looked at him expectantly, “The, uh. Flower shop. Sounds great.”

Carla let out a long sigh, but she was still smiling.

“It is,” she said, and then, “You take care of yourself, twinkle-toes.”

Before Stan knew what was happening, Carla took one step forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft kiss against Stan’s cheek.

Then she turned and walked away, with a sweep of chestnut hair, leaving only a faint scent of leather and lilies and the burning imprint of her kiss on Stan’s cheek.

Stan slowly reached up and gently, gently pressed the tips of his fingers against it.

“Take care of yourself, hotpants,” he echoed, under his breath.

The quiet in the office was suddenly broken by a loud blat. Stan half-turned, to see Susan noisily blowing her nose into a tissue that she then used to dab at her glistening eyes.

“It’s so tragically romantic!” she sniffled, when she saw that Stan was staring at her. “Your love is so star-crossed!”

“We literally broke up half a decade ago,” Stan pointed out.

Susan sniffled, and pouted, still dabbing her eyes.

“Well, I’ll be back with the cinnamon,” Fiddleford said loudly, closing Ford’s journal with a snap that made Stan jump. “You still got them barrels of formaldehyde hangin’ around?”

Ford nodded, the floof of brown hair peeking out above the collar of his coat bobbing. He didn’t seem to notice Stan’s strangled noise of disbelief.

“Formaldehyde? Poindexter, how is it that summoning a literal demon is not the weirdest thing you got up to out here?” Stan demanded.

Ford didn’t answer. He’d slid halfway down the chair and looked like he was well on his way to the floor.

Fiddleford glanced from Ford over to Stan, who had to stifle a sudden yawn. The sun was definitely threatening to rise, now. He could see a sliver of pale light starting to creep up the wall on the other side of the office.

“I’ll be back round sundown ta help brew up your antidote,” Fiddleford said, and then, a little sterner, “An’ then you’n’me gotta talk. I ain’t forgiven you yet.”

Ford actually pushed himself up on the seat of his chair at that, his face emerging pale and mournful from the collar of his coat. He met Fiddleford’s eyes, and nodded once. “After sundown?”

“After sundown,” Fiddleford agreed, clasping the journal to his chest and turning to follow Carla.

Susan looked from Fiddleford, walking away, to Ford, sliding back down into his coat, and then up at Stan, seeming to come to a decision. “I’m gonna go line up a couple adorable woodland creatures for the both of you two to snack on!” she said, with a weirdly knowing smile in Stan’s direction. “Don’t want anybody going all murdery!”

“Why do you have to say it so cheerfully,” Stan grumbled.

Susan just smiled up at him, the picture of innocence.

“You two play nice,” she chirped, and then shot an entirely un-Susan-like pointed glare in Stan’s direction. “Don’t go biting each other’s heads off!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered. He shot a glance over at Ford, and then turned back to Susan. “Hey, how ‘bout I walk you to the door?”

Susan canted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Stan with a strange little smile. “You know I’m not going away forever, right, silly?”

Stan shook his head, biting his bottom lip. “I know, but -” He looked over at Ford again, and didn’t say but I might be.

It didn’t matter, because Susan’s expression softened anyway, and she leaned forward to rest a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she said, gripping Stan’s shoulder and staring deeply into his eyes. “I still haven’t introduced you to Mr. Whiskers.”

Stan cleared his throat.

“And Pumpkin. And Mittens.” Susan gave Stan’s shoulder another squeeze. “And Admiral Pennyworth. And -”

“If you list off the name of every single cat you own, I might actually bite you in the jugular,” Stan interrupted, and Susan laughed, finally letting go of his shoulder.

“I will see you later!” she said, pointing at Stan as she backed away, until she bumped into the wall. She scooted sideways until she found the doorway, and then backed away down the hall, still pointing at Stan.

Stan watched until Susan disappeared out the door. It banged shut behind her, and then Stan was alone in the shack with Ford and the suddenly too-oppressive silence.

Ford’s house was freezing, Stan realised. Without the living people around to warm it up, it was at least as cold as the snow outside.

Somehow, it felt even colder.

“Stan?”

Stan turned, slowly. He felt a little like he was trying not to be seen or heard, like if he moved too fast or made too much noise then something terrible would find him.

But the only thing he saw when he turned around was Ford, still slumped in the office chair with his trenchcoat pulled up around his face. He wasn’t looking at Stan, but as Stan turned to face him, he spoke again, and his voice was...small. There was no other word for it. It sounded thin and frightened, like a little kid’s voice, strange and wrong coming out of Ford’s mouth.

“Is it going to burn?”

“What?” Stan said, stupidly. “The sun?”

Ford nodded, pulling his trenchcoat a little tighter around himself. He shut his eyes and swallowed, visibly composing himself, and when he spoke again he sounded more like himself. “Because if it is, we should probably return to the basement. I’ve boarded up the rest of the windows, but I’m certain there’s still plenty of cracks for the light to get in -”

“The sun’s not gonna burn you, Sixer,” Stan said, unsticking his feet from where they felt frozen to the floor to step closer to Ford. “Probably knock you out cold, but it’s not gonna burn you.”

Ford nodded again. He still didn’t look up at Stan.

“The antidote will work,” he said.

“Never said it wouldn’t,” Stan answered. “And then everything goes back to the way it was, right?”

Ford shut his eyes.

“Is that why you’re angry with me?” he managed, like he had to carefully choose each word as it came out of his mouth. “Because I don’t want to be...like you.”

“What?” Stan blinked. “Where’d you get that from?”

Ford didn’t answer.

Stan huffed out a sigh, and levered himself down to sit on the floor beside the office chair. Something cold soaked through the butt of his jeans, and he hissed in a breath, silently hoping that he hadn’t just sat in Ford’s blood even though he knew he had. “Look, I didn’t want this either, I ain’t mad that you don’t. If you can get outta being stuck like this, then take the money and run, pal.”

Ford made a noise that might have been a laugh. Stan took it as a good sign.

“Hey, you got, like, a space heater or anything around here?” he asked, shifting in place. Sitting down felt like sweet relief with the sun dragging its way up the horizon, but sitting on the floor was like sitting on a block of solid ice. “You’re gonna want one. Least until you get all humaned up again.”

Ford shook his head.

“Is it always this cold?” he asked, so quietly that Stan had to strain to hear him.

Stan shrugged one shoulder.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said, and Ford winced.

There didn’t seem to be much of anything left to say after that. Stan waited, patiently, hoping that Ford would suddenly - what? Jump up crying and throw himself into Stan’s arms? Admit that he’d messed up and thank Stan for saving his life? The only thing Ford was gonna do, Stan reminded himself sharply, was pass out. He himself was feeling more and more like just putting his head down and going to sleep by the second.

He had to get out of here before that happened.

Stan groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. It felt like trying to bench-press a ton of lead, but he managed to make it upright, even though he felt himself sway dangerously once he was back on his feet.

“Where’re you goin’?” Ford asked, as Stan started towards the door, and Stan had to stop and refocus on his brother’s face.

“Gotta go get my car,” Stan said, with his best big showman’s smile in Ford’s direction. It felt a little sloppy, but that didn’t really matter. Ford’s eyelids were sagging so bad he probably couldn’t even see it anyway.

“Not right now,” Ford protested, indignant.

“Yeah right now,” Stan argued.

“Why?”

“Because -” Stan considered biting his tongue for all of about half a second, but he was too tired and too fed up to even think about it. “Because if I fall asleep here, then the next thing you know, I’m waking up to your little buddy -”

“Research assistant.”

“Your research assistant dousing you in cinnamon and formaldehyde, and then everything’s right back to the way it was.” Stan spat. “An’ you sure as hell don’t want me hanging around after that.”

Ford blinked owlishly up at Stan. Wrapped up in his coat like that, he even looked younger. It wasn’t fair.

“Why not?” he asked, and Stan clenched his jaw, looking around for something convenient to throw.

“Why not - you were the one who said you wanted things to go back to the way they were! Well, that’s how things were for me! You sitting pretty in your - okay, creepy, neglected, but still pretty nice house, doing whatever weird-sciencey stuff it is you do, while I just hit the road until you need me again!”

Ford blinked some more. Stan was pretty sure he was just trying to keep his eyes open.

“That wasn’t,” Ford started, and then sucked in a breath and tried again. “Stan. I didn’t realise -”

“Yeah, because you don’t think about anybody other than yourself, do you?” Stan snapped. The look on Ford’s face almost made him regret it. Almost. “You got your stupid house and your stupid journals and your stupid - antidote - and all I got is a fifteen-year-old car and the clothes on my back and a boot in the behind! And you don’t care! You never cared! Not once, in ten years, did you wanna see me or even talk to me, until you needed me for something! And now you got what you want, and you don’t need me anymore.”

It was like giving that speech had used up the last of the energy Stan was using to stay upright. He sank down to the floor, settling on his knees beside the chair Ford was curled up in, and stayed there, too tired to move.

In the silence that descended, Stan could swear he could hear the pipes rattling in the walls. Or maybe that was mice.

“I told myself you were fine.”

It took an enormous effort to raise his head, but Stan did, looking up at his twin. “Huh?”

Ford stared into the middle distance, blinking his eyes open every few seconds. Stan could understand the feeling - his own felt impossibly heavy, and the fever ache was starting to settle into his joints. “Ma always said you’d be all right. You had personality. I never thought -”

His voice cracked, and Ford swallowed. “I never thought you’d want to see me again.”

Stan opened his mouth, and then shut it again. His brain felt like it was taking a million years to process what his ears had just heard. It couldn’t possibly have been real.

"I thought you never wanted to see me again," he finally managed.

The strangled noise that Ford made might have been the ghost of a laugh.

“I missed you,” he said, quietly.

Stan reached up and vaguely patted his brother’s shin. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

"Missed you too," he said, under his breath.

“Maybe we c’n fix th’ annidote t’work on you too,” Ford slurred, sleepily.

Stan swallowed around the lump rising in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, after you wake up,” he said, giving Ford’s shin another pat. He wasn’t expecting Ford to reach out and put his hand over Stan’s, squeezing just slightly.

“Stan?” Ford asked, and Stan looked up, to see his brother’s eyes wide, clearly fighting to stay alert. His words were careful, and slow, but clear. “Stay. Please.”

The lump in Stan’s throat swelled abruptly, until he could swear it was pushing against the backs of his eyes as well, pressing against his tear ducts.

Despite everything, he realised, he was smiling.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

...

The green exit signs flashed by overhead as the Stanleymobile shot through the city. Headlights streamed past, growing brighter against the gathering dark by the second. Stan checked the map, and then the overhead signs. Two exits before his turn. One exit.

He spared a glance in the rearview mirror, at the city lights starting to bloom against the dark blue of the night sky, a huge, glittering carnival midway behind him. It grew smaller and smaller the further he drove.

The green sign flashed overhead, and Stan swerved sideways onto the exit ramp, coiling down and around until the road suddenly straightened out. Ahead of him, hundreds of miles of highway stretched, up into the unknown.

Up into the woods where his brother was waiting.

“Oregon, here I come,” Stan said, to no one in particular.

He reached down and adjusted the postcard propped against the dash, and then stepped on the gas.

#gravity falls #raising stakes au #this is mary's fic tag

109 notes · View notes