#like bro I was ready to throw my phone at the nearest wall at the next unnecessary vibration

[forget-me-nights]

I know this is obvious to most but friendly reminder that if your phone is overstimulating you with all these notifications and messages… you can and should turn them all off! Or at least put them on silent not sound, vibration or lightning (???) Unsubscribe to ad emails you don’t read anyway and put WhatsApp on silent (except maybe a select few)!

You’ll be bombarded with the new stuff and development when you have time to open the apps anyway, so no need to unnecessarily stress and overwhelm yourself!!

[yisony07]

Real Target

A few hours after noon, Oskar was watching from the bushes a couple standing in front of a metal bench talking in the middle of a somewhat crowded park. One of them was Jake, the smallest of the two, and with a somewhat tired look. But the one who interested Oskar the most was the other, Christopher, who spoke to Jake with a carefree smile that gave him an involuntary sex appeal, with the curious way his tight shirt fit against his pecs.

Oskar, eager to prove what was hidden under there, couldn't help but stir inside the bush, although he didn't care at all. The unusual blizzard hid his presence. They were the perfect conditions for the being to enjoy that view. And how to blame him? Oskar had spent the afterlife wandering around the park near the university looking with envy at the shameless way in which others enjoyed his sensations; He really missed being able to feel pleasure, being able to kiss, experience carnal desires, and when he discovered that he was capable of possessing by chance when he took the form of a dog that wanted to urinate by placing itself where he was a few days ago, with someone as attractive as Christopher, Oskar knew what he wanted to do. Oskar slid his semi-blue, semi-transparent body across the black asphalt until he reached the bench so he could hear what they were saying and see if he had a chance.

“So, what did you decide to do with Carla?” Jake asked, as if the topic didn't matter to him that much.

“I broke up with her and honestly, it didn't hurt at all…” both men laughed lightly.

So he is without commitment, Oskar thought, increasingly convinced of his decision. But it can't be now, Oskar thought. He never liked attention, and he suspected that taking possession of Christopher wouldn't be so easy under those circumstances. If his mind is as strong as his body, it wouldn't be the best, he told himself.

“So… will you come to my apartment now to play?”

“Well of course, bro,” Jake replied, “although I'll go later, maybe in the evening, I have to finish some things, you know…” he winked and Christopher snorted.

“Well,” he said, adjusting his backpack. “I'll take a nap while you arrive.”

“Got it.”

Oskar watched his loot walk away, blending into the crowd. The ghost grimaced and looked towards Jake, who seemed to slink away. Curiosity overcame the spirit, so he found himself following it. Jake walked towards the nearest shopping center and entered one of the cubicles. Oskar crept over to the toilet where he went, and watched stealthily as Jake unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his boxers, and revealed his not very erect penis.

Jake peed for a few seconds while letting out a loud sigh. He took a piece of toilet paper, wiped his meatus and was about to put his pants back on when he felt his phone vibrate.

After throwing away the paper, Jake proceeded to take out his cell phone. He checked it and instantly his cock became erect. "Hell already, these pussies look very sexy, ready to take a good hammer," he commented, biting his lip for a moment.

Faced with such a cock right in front of him, Oskar did not waste the opportunity. "Here we go!" he said before launching himself headlong into that pinkish glans.

It took Jake several seconds to realize what was happening. The sudden low temperatures he felt on his dick made him look down and he was surprised to see a bluish mass snaking in his pisshole.

"What the...!!" he shouted, but was cut off by a moan coming from himself. Oskar entered little by little while Jake waved his hands around his penis to grab or scare the ghost away, but to no avail. "Get… out… fuck… ah yeah… no…get… of… me!!" 

He screamed and crashed back into the door. A feeling of repulsive pleasure ran through his body as Oskar entered him. It was nauseating and yet exciting, sensual, pleasurable... Jake could do nothing but moan until all of Oskar entered him.

Jake's body began to shake uncontrollably, hitting the walls of the cubicle. A cold, gelatinous sensation spread and spread inside the man's body. Only screams and grunts of pleasure came from Jake's mouth, and as all of Oskar occupied every inch of Jake, his body fell to the floor with a thud, missing the toilet.

Jake opened his eyes slowly, but they had taken on a bluish hue. He was no longer the same: Oskar was in control.

"Whew... that was a battle..." Oskar whispered between gasps. He took Jake's cell phone, put it in one of his pockets and stood up, fixing his pants. He watched his new arms, a little hairier and thicker than before, his chest rising and falling as he breathed at an increasingly regular pace, and the way his clothes (especially his pants) fit around his body, giving a suggestive connotation to Jake's casual clothing. "But it was worth like hell," he added, running his new hands over his new abdomen, his bulge slightly noticeable.

Someone knocked on the cubicle door.  “Hey, man, is everything okay? You were yelling and there was a lot of noise…”

 “No, no, don't worry,” Jake said through Oskar;  the feeling of his new voice running down his throat was warm, though not entirely perfect. “I saw a huge insect and I have a phobia of them, so I went crazy, hehehe…” he explained quickly.

 “Okay, happy rest of the afternoon!”

“Yeah, bye…” Oskar bent down to check that no one else was in the bathroom so he could leave safely. Once he verified it, he opened the cubicle. “Now, to the main plate,” he added before leaving the public bathroom.

Christopher had never been the type of boy to believe in spirits, ghosts, or paranormal activities. He lived his life with complete tranquility without thinking that those kinds of things could affect him, being a university student a few semesters away from starting his thesis. He didn't have many friends and had ended an unsatisfactory relationship, but that's how he preferred it: he didn't want to get involved with anything.

He was curled up in his bed just minutes after saying goodbye to Jake. He was hoping to get some sleep before his video game night with his pal Jake. He just closed his eyes when he heard someone knock on the door. A shiver ran down his spine as he stood up.

“Who will it be at this time?” he wondered as he got out of bed. He only had on shorts and sandals. He walked to the door and was surprised when, upon opening it, he found Jake leaning on the threshold.

There was something different, it seemed to Chris, because he didn't remember his friend looking like that... well, like he had upgraded. And there was something about it that seemed strange to him.

“Jake! I thought you would be here later,” Chris said and stepped aside for Jake to enter. “I haven't prepared anything.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Jake responded as he looked around Chris's apartment as if for the first time. “My matter ended earlier than expected.”

“That's nice,” Chris said as he closed the door. “Sit over there and settle in as I prepare everything.”

“Oh, no need,” Jake said. He curled his lips into a lopsided smile before slowly approaching Chris.

"What's up dude? You look strange,” Chris said, confused by Jake's way of acting, but before he could ask anything else, Jake launched into kissing him on the lips. He had been very passionate, more than he would have received from any girl, and yet, Chris couldn't help but push Jake, causing him to fall on his ass on the floor. “Bro, what the fuck!!” He shouted, looking at Jake with a mixture of disgust and intrigue while he “wiped” his mouth.

"What's happening? I didn't think you'd take it like that,” Jake replied, standing up, observing Chris's face and body with unusual intensity. “I always wanted to do it… I love you!”

That statement made something shake in Chris' mind. Who had been his friend since they entered university, with whom he shared classes, laughs and afternoons of games, who had even been there for him when he talked about his experiences with women, was in love with him? That same person who had kissed him like that out of nowhere, joining his lips with his and tasting his tongue?

It was the craziest thing that had happened in his life and yet... he couldn't deny that he had liked him; In fact, he noticed that his penis had even hardened. And it wasn't until that moment, when Chris realized that Jake's eyes had a bluish tint.

“Jake… your eyes look different,” Chris said as if he were in a little trance, as if there was nothing else he wanted to do but admire his mate.

"So?" Jake said with a mischievous little smile and approached again. “Are they more… pretty?”

Something deep inside Chris wanted to run away from there, get away from that creep at any cost. But that desire was as foreign as if it were an intrusive thought. Jake suddenly looked attractive and, despite his build being inferior to his in several ways, desirable.

“They're so much sexier,” Chris whispered, surrendering to the man in front of him, and, surrendering to his own feelings, he reciprocated the kiss Jake gave him instantly. The part of Chris that wanted to flee screamed in his mind, but he was drowned out by the pleasure coursing through his body. Chris didn't react negatively when Jake put his hands on his chest, rubbing him gently, but instead wrapped his arms around his waist while they continued with their lips together, in that game of tongues. It was hot, comfortable and quite sloppy from all the saliva, and yet it was the only thing Chris focused on. It was too good, indeed, very good.

But suddenly, Chris felt a completely opposite sensation on his tongue and, out of shock, he quickly separated from Jake, opening his eyes after he stopped feeling his touch.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked me," Jake asked, with a hint of irritation that was missed by Chris.

"It's just that I felt something strangely cold and slimy..." Chris said as if he was coming out of a trance, and as such, he realized what he had done, reflecting on his face in the way his eyes opened and his mouth of shock.

At no point in his life had he been attracted to other men and yet he couldn't deny what he did or how he felt, although something inside him seemed to believe that it hadn't been entirely voluntary.

He looked back at Jake...was that his idea or had he gotten a little taller? Because he didn't remember Jake's eyes being on the same level as his own, did he?

Jake clicked his tongue. "No, I didn't feel it," he said, "but how about we continue in bed? If, of course, you wanted us to be something.

"Of course…” No… he wanted to say, but instead it came out: "yes, we could be a couple..." he said with a silly smile, almost unlike him.

"Thank you dear." Jake smiled and kissed him again.

They both continued kissing and undressed before jumping into bed. Due to the heat of the moment, Chris couldn't reflect on what was happening, he only cared about pleasure, letting out those feelings that were still somewhat foreign; Jake stopped kissing his lips but instead continued planting kisses as he moved down his body until he reached the tip of his cock. Chris felt a tingle and looked down at Jake, who was smiling at the prospect of having said member before him, as if he had been waiting for it for so long.

Without saying a word, just a clash of glances, Jake began to suck him. Chris couldn't suppress his moans while he pinched his nipples with one of his hands and with the other he massaged Jake's face and hair. Jake moved up and down, feeling every inch of that huge meat. Chris felt in heaven, comfortable with his cock inside Jake's warm core. But suddenly, again, he felt that cold, rubbery feeling again, so he moved Jake so that his cock was free.

"What happened?" Jake asked with a quick movement of his right eyelid and a hint of irritation more noticeable than the other times.

"I almost came," Chris said. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter, dear... Are you ready for me to put it in?"

"What?"

Chris's alarms went off, but the blue look Jake gave him once again tamed his nerves. He settled down a little more and stretched his legs, so that Jake had all the way clear.

"I like it that way..." Jake whispered, using his saliva to wet his own dick and shoving it into Chris's hole.

At first it hurt, but it only took a few seconds of getting used to it for the pleasure to take over. In fact, his moans were even louder than before. Jake thrust again and again as he kissed him repeatedly. It was one of the nicest, hottest things, and the act lasted several minutes when both Chris and Jake cummed squirts. Chris felt Jake's warm fluid move inside him, filling him little by little, followed by something cold.

Jake fell hyperventilating on top of Chris, as if he were asleep or unconscious while Chris regulated his breathing. However, everything looked more and more blurry and his sensations were more and more diffuse, more confusing, until suddenly... something changed.

What… Chris said, or rather thought, since nothing came out of his mouth.

"Hehehe... finally," said 'Chris' with satisfaction. He moved Jake to the side (without removing his penis) so he could massage his own body as if it were a new acquisition, a new prize... Still smiling, he added: "After so much, I finally did it... You're all mine, Christopher."

At that moment 'Chris' noticed Jake moving. Apparently he was waking up.

"I don't know what that was..." he drawled, almost drunk-like, "but it was amazing... Where are we?"

Suddenly, 'Chris' pushed Jake to the other side, so that this time Jake was on the bottom. 'Chris' pulled Jake's cock out of his asshole and put the tip of his own cock into Jake's hole. He saw that Jake had returned to his original form and it was he who saw in 'Chris' a bluish tone in his eyes.

"We're about to start round two, babe, are you ready?" 'Chris' said before kissing him intensely and inserting his penis and then starting to ram him with his huge cock.

"Oh fuck..." Jake moaned, clutching his arms behind Chris' back. "This... is... amazing..."

"Oh, indeed it is..." Chris groaned, seeing what he had achieved. "Of course it is..."

[qitwrites]

a numbers game 

Fandom: BNHA 

Pairing: Kiribaku 

(AO3) 

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

  He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

  Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

  Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

  It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck 

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

  “So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

  bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

  Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

  dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

  “Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks. 

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

  Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

  Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?” 

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie. 

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

  “Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

  For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

  Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”  

  Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.  

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

  It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

 ---

 Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

 ---

 dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

 ---

 “So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

  Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

 ---

 Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

  Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

  It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

  “How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

  Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji  <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3  

[ayellowcurtain]

The Sobbe gamers friends-to-lovers series

So even the prompt request has smut in it so this is a warning! Don’t read after this line!!! And the prompt has some dirty talking

Imagine Robbe and the broerrrs at chipotle or something and Robbe gets a text from sander about how he’s gonna fuck him when they have date night later that evening and so when they get to ordering he lies and says he’s not hungry cuz he doesn’t want to eat a burrito before bottoming and his friends call him out because he was starving minutes ago until he finally says why and Jens breaks out laughing but it takes a while for moyo and Aaron to figure out what he means

“Fuck…” Robbe exhales, leaning against the wall already like it’s too much work to stand on his own, “I’m tired.”

Sander purrs, standing in front of him, playing with his hair, “If I say sorry I won’t mean it…”

This is a nice surprise. Robbe wishes he had it every day: a sudden pull while he was walking out of school, only to find Sander inside the bathroom, smiling so confident, checking every bathroom stall to make sure they were really alone before locking them inside of one, looking at Robbe in surrender while he pushed his bag out of his shoulder and fell on his knees, all at the exact same time.

Robbe blushes a little, holding Sander by the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer because it feels like they’re never close enough “What will my friends say when I tell them I’m suddenly not hungry anymore?”

Sander lifts his eyebrows while looking down, trying to create more space so they can stand flat against each other, he carefully pushes his bag to the back of the stall so it won’t be right under them. Sander has a plan. And he teased Robbe about it every time he would stop what he was doing to give Robbe another piece of the puzzle.

He was going to meet the boys outside when Sander pulled him inside the bathroom all of a sudden. They were going out to eat, and Robbe planned on going home after that, to check if Sander was home from his classes too so they could play a little bit of video game.

Robbe was missing him terribly, spending a week with him was like a small taste of what a perfect life would be. It was almost a daily event: Sander would always fall asleep while lying his head against Robbe’s stomach. He’s one of those that needs a little nap after lunch. He says it doesn’t happen as often when Robbe is not around. The last thing in his mind was that Sander would be here, inside his school, ready to keep his hostage for a few minutes, definitely not long enough to cure how badly Robbe misses him.

“That you’re a lucky guy with an empty stomach.” Sander kisses him softly, creating a line of kisses all the way to his cheek, “That you have someone missing you so desperately much, that this person wants you nice and healthy, not too full because you’ll...need a lot of energy later to spend with them.”

Robbe wraps his arms around Sander’s neck and he’s about to say fuck it, and ask Sander to go home with him already, meet his friends some other time for lunch, go home and introduce him to his mom just so they don’t have to say goodbye now when they could very well start their date night earlier.

“I can skip my classes today...we could play some video-game…” Sander whispers against his ear, biting it lightly, making Robbe close his eyes, scratching the back of Sander’s neck to ask him to keep doing that.

They move like a magnet, meeting in the middle for a sudden and heated kiss, pressing Robbe against the wall that moves a little with how hard Sander pushed him suddenly. The last thing they would do if they changed their plans would be play video games.

“Go see your friends before I keep you here forever. And text me what they think of your lack of hunger.” Sander squeezes his ass and smiles coyly against his lips, “I think it’s cute.”

Robbe pushes him back until Sander hits the wall on the other side, as far away from him as the tiny bathroom lets them be, and he opens the door, grabbing his backpack on the floor and drags it out the small space he has to leave the stall, throwing it over his shoulder once he’s near the sinks, adjusting his hoodie, “If you don’t want me here anymore you can just say it.”

Sander snorts, grabbing Robbe’s arm while he’s trying to escape and he pulls him closer a little too fast, crashing their bodies together again in the middle of the bathroom, not caring if anyone can come in and see it.

“I want you here all the time, me inside of you would be perfect.” He whispers and Robbe sighs, closing his eyes for a second too long.

“Okay...I really should go now.” Robbe kisses his cheek as best as he can while still feeling out of it, thinking about other things, stepping back and Sander holds his hand, his fingertips when he takes another step back, “My friend offered me a room at her place...maybe you could help me with the move next weekend if you’re not too busy...”

Sander smiles, unable to hold Robbe, and he sighs, not very excited to think about moving when they both want to be doing better things right this instant, “It’ll be my pleasure.”

“I’ll text you the address when she sends it to me.”

Sander finally grabs his bag too, opening the door properly so he can step out and join Robbe in the main area of the bathroom, “I’ll bring you a house warming gift…”

Robbe lifts his eyebrows and Sander laughs, “A very comfortable bed.”

“Don’t spend your money on me.”

“I want to.” Sander steps closer, with that hoarse voice and Robbe steps back, stumbling over nothing on the floor.

“Just take your sweet, handsome, sexy body and help me and that’ll be enough.”

“I miss you already.” Robbe rushes to give Sander one last kiss, walking away too fast and Sander can’t hold him, push him inside and lock the door. He can only watch Robbe finally walk away, the old door taking some time to fully close, letting Sander watch Robbe turning his phone back on, looking over his shoulder at Sander and smiling.

-

“Thought the toilet had swallowed you.” Jens complains, and Robbe laughs because someone else did. He adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I had to take a call…”

Moyo looks at him, really looks at him, frowning as deep as he can, trying to find something that Robbe doesn’t understand.

“Is that a secret code for you to tell us you were sharing a handjob with your boyfriend over the phone?”

“What?! No!”

Jens makes some fake sounds like he’s about to puke, walking around to breath a little bit and Robbe rolls his eyes.

“You’re so horny, bro! I get it!” Aaron nods his head like they’re aren’t talking about handjobs like it’s a mundane sobject.

“I wasn’t doing that! Who do you think I am?”

“A horny dog that now has a boyfriend.”

Robbe shakes his head, trying hard not to think of what he was actually doing.

“I’m not gonna eat but I’ll keep you guys company.”

Now they all look at him, and Robbe knows he won’t be able to pull this one off that well. He can’t bring himself to care that much about it though. Sander is still inside the school, and he’ll meet Robbe later. And they’ll spend the whole night doing far better things than a quick and dirty session in the school bathroom just to get their more desperate hormones out of their way. They’ll take their time, and have to keep each other quiet so his mom won’t hear them and ruin everything.

“You were starving ten minutes ago! Complaining for hours about how you wanted to eat.”

“I know…” He looks around. “But while I was on the phone I had a little snack so I can wait until I get home.”

Moyo rolls his eyes, not caring about his excuses because they are all hungry now. So they start walking to the nearest fast-food place and Jens bumps into Robbe when they’re almost there and Robbe looks at him, noticing how slow Jens is walking suddenly. He changes his pace too and soon they’re a good five, six feet away from Moyo and Aaron, talking loudly about something, always looking like they’re fighting when they’re just talking.

“You had a snack in the bathroom…while on the phone, huh?”

Robbe laughs with the way he says it, and he feels himself blushing, avoiding to meet Jens’ curious eyes, he keeps looking forward.

“Yes…?”

“Sure, Robbe. Yeah. A little snack and a conversation on the phone can really give you that I-just-came face. Yeah, right.”

“What the fuck?! I don’t have an I just came face!”

Jens sighs loudly, and he puts his hand on Robbe’s chest, stopping both of them.

“Bro, you have shit on your pants.”

Robbe freezes, looking down, pulling his jeans everywhere to look for what Jens is talking about. He overheats instantly when he notices there’s nothing there. He didn’t check when he left the bathroom because...Sander was sure to clean everything. With his mouth.

“Now you do have an I just came face.”

Robbe pushes Jens away and starts walking again.

[frederikandersens]

All I Want (3) F.A

Warnings: sex! Brief mention of couple counselling & Auston being a dick! (shocker)

A/N: i have been doing SO much research on how to write sex scenes it’s not even funny, i tried my best lmao, enjoy😌 ALSO this is the last part🥺

You still stayed at Austons, however Freddie did sleep in the guest room with you. You two were finally making progress, but when you finally come to your senses you realize he’s no longer in bed with you.

You let out a loud, frustrated sigh as you force yourself to get out of bed. Making your way downstairs, you were clearly in a bad mood until you see a note with your name on it, raising an eyebrow Auston notices the confusion.

“Fred left that for you, not sure what it says, he told me not to read it” Auston winks. The bitch definitely read it.

Y/N,

I know it was stupid of me to leave you so early in the morning, but this is all so crazy. I need time. I’m my love.

“Time? What could he possibly need more time for?” You scoff. He couldn’t be serious, he’s the one that fucked this up, right? “Think he said something about him going to the one café in Yorkville that you two always went to, might wanna meet him there, not sure if he’s still there but-” Auston says, “no- no I’m not letting him do this! I’m not gonna come running to him, I’m done, I tried Auston, I really did but I can’t do this with him anymore” you feel tears form in your eyes but refuse to let them fall- you didn’t want to cry over Freddie anymore.

“That’s fine” auston pours his coffee, “although I do have a question” he says, “yeah what?” You ask, “it may be too soon but I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to go out sometime?” He smiles confidently.

“You’re fucking with me, right? Freddie put you up to this?” You ask, he shakes his head, “no! Are you stupid, Auston!? Why would I ever date my boyfriends bestfriend?! I’m going to go see what Steph and Mitch are up to and hang out there for the day” you say putting on your sandals and grabbing your car keys, slamming the door behind you.

As you drive you can’t help but think of Auston and yours conversation, how stupid could he be? Isn’t it bro code or something to not go after your boys girl? He didn’t think he actually had a chance, did he? Though this is Auston Matthews you’re talking about and he had a habit of being a bit entitled at times.

You contemplated going to Freddie’s, but you really wanted him to know how mad you were for him leaving you this morning, it hurt you to say the least. You were disrupted by a phone call as you pull to the nearest parking lot.

“Hello?” You ask, “yes hello, is this miss. Y/L/N? It’s about the apartment, you got it if you want it”

Yesterday while it was just you and Auston you had applied to an apartment, assuming you wouldn’t hear back, “yes this is” You reply, “the place is ready when you are, get back to me this week if you want to make the move” That was pretty much the just of the conversation, nothing worth mentioning, “finally” you let a sigh of relief fall from your lips.

Y/N:

got that apartment, i’ll be out in a few days

Auston:

damn, so soon?

Y/N:

take the fucking hint auston

You roll your eyes at that message, you had also shot Freddie a quick message saying you’d be by to pick up the remainder of your things at a later date.

-

“Hey” you walk into Steph and Mitchs home. They always told you to just walk in, that you were family to them, “oh” you sigh as you see Freddie, “I didn’t know you’d be here” he nervously wipes his hands on his pants, “yeah, I just needed to leave for a bit, where’s Steph and Mitch?” You ask.

He waits a few seconds before talking, “sorry- um- they left for the night and asked me to watch Zeus” he says, “oh” you nod. Why was this so awkward? You went from easily having a conversation about anything and everything to nothing.

“I think we should talk more- about last night specifically” he says, “and I just want you to listen, no fighting” he says, you nod your head in agreement.

“We’ve been struggling, no doubt. And we’ve let it go on for too long and I feel it’s gotten to a point where there’s no fixing it” he says.

“No, I don’t understand this at all, we’re Freddie and Y/N, we’re the couple everyone looks up to, this can’t happen, I can’t lose you” you drape your leg over his.

“I told you to listen to me for a minute, please, Y/N, just listen, that’s all I’m asking from you” he sighs, you wish you could understand why he thinks there’s no fixing this, but you couldn’t come up with anything.

“I love you and-” you cut him off, “prove it then, Fred, prove to me you love me, because if you did this bullshit wouldn’t be coming out of your mouth” you cry.

“Y/N” he says sympathetically, rubbing small circles on your knee, “I can’t lose you, Freddie” you wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie, actually, Freddie’s hoodie that he gave to you because you were cold, even though you had your own hoodies.

It was so sad how fast things changed between you and Freddie, you just wanted things to be normal again, like how when you two first started dating. How innocent you were at the time. It was just like yesterday his arms were wrapped around you as you’d fall asleep, or his quiet snores that you absolutely hated and were now missing more than ever.

He stares at you for a moment, trying to read you before he pulls you in for a kiss, pushing you on your back, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours, your hands travel up his shirt, “I’m not doing anything with you if it ends up in you leaving... again” you pull away, not letting him distract you from your end goal, he lets out a sigh, as he brushes a hand through his hair, his messy hair that always turned you on so much, “don’t worry, we’ll figure this out” he kisses your neck before his lips meet yours again.

“I can’t do this infront of the dog” you sigh, he lets out a breathy laugh and picks you up, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the guest room, kicking the door shut behind him before putting you down and pushing you agaisnt it, he pulls his shirt off tossing it across the room, his lips instantly meeting yours and it’s not long before your granting his tongue access to your mouth, your hands running up and down his now bare chest, feeling every little detail.

You push yourselves as close together as possible, trying to make up for the months you hadn’t been there for eachother physically. You feel him hard and ready agaisnt you, “bed” he says sternly.

You quickly take off the clothes you had been wearing, Freddie watches your every move as he gets off to you getting undressed, you had no clue when he took his pants off, but you weren’t about to question it, “lay down, angel” he says, his voice suddenly softer than before.

It’s not long before he’s leaning over top of you, opening your legs for him, letting you know you’re ready for him. You both moan in sync as he presses into you, the feeling of not being together finally begin to fade away, you draw him in deeper and deeper into the kiss, he knew what you were trying to do, he knew you wanted to give him a reason to stay. He also wanted this as bad as you did, he wanted you.

“C’mon, Fred, doesn’t this make you wanna stay” you bite your lip, digging your nails in his back, “mhm, forgot how good it is” he kisses your jaw, “yeah?” You moan.

His thrust were slow and steady, and truthfully it was making you so much more frustrated than before and you push your hips into him, “so needy, huh?” He smirks as he pulls out to throw your leg over his shoulder, you missed him so much, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him inside of you, “Fred” his name falls from your lips, this only encourages him more as he thrusts faster and harder into you, the headboard hitting the wall and the bed obnoxiously squeaking.

He keeps this steady pace, only slowing down for a few seconds just to speed up again. You hear his pants in your ear, “Y/N” he whispers, to what felt impossible his thrust get faster, practically bashing the headboard agaisnt the wall, causing pleasure-filled screams to fall from your mouth, it’s not long before you come to your high, and he only last a few minutes after you. The feeling of being apart was too much.

Once you both calm down, he pulls out, and you let out a soft, quiet moan, “I can’t leave you, I really can’t” he leans down for a soft kiss, “I’m glad” you lazily smile, “one of us needs to tell Steph, Mitch, and Auston that we’re okay now, that we’re working on things” Freddie suggests, “I will” I smile, “I’ll gladly do it” you both make your way to the bathroom to take a shower.

The shower consisted of possibly another round or two, and washing eachother, and maybe a blowjob, and maybe even shampoo getting in your eye. It was an interesting shower to say the least, but you won’t complain about the shampoo in your eye since Freddie was right there wrapping his arms around you as you wiped at your eye.

sqaud

Freddie:

Hey

Auston:

Hi?

Steph:

Hello

Mitch:

How’s my zeusy boy doing?

Freddie:

He’s good

Y/N:

Fred and I are good, we’re working on things:)

Steph:

WHAT

Mitch:

OMG NO

Ur joking?!

Omg let’s cry

Auston:

Aye

You smile as you put your phone down, you never expected a man to be the cause of your happiness, but love does some fucked up things to you.

A pair of warm arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible and it’s all you could ever need, “does Zeus need out?” I ask, Freddie sighs, “yeah” he gets up, “I’ll come with you” you hold his hand as you exit the room.

You both stand at the patio door as you watch Zeus run around the yard, letting him burn off some energy before bedtime.

“One day maybe we can move into a house and get a dog, or maybe a baby?” I look up at him and smile, “not for a couple years anyway” I add, “of course, love” he presses a kiss to your head, “whenever your ready, I am” he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

As you let Zeus in, he goes straight up on the couch, and honestly he probably wasn’t allowed on there but it’s one night, let the dog live. Freddie picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom where you then cuddle, running your hands up and down his stomach, tracing the dip in his collarbone, tracing his abs, and giving him soft kisses on his neck and jaw, “it’s 11 Y/N, we need to sleep, especially you, I know it’s been hard” he kisses your head.

It’s a few minutes at least before you say anything, “hasn’t it been hard for you?” You ask him, “of course, but you’re my main priority, my mom said she was concerned about you because when she’d call you, you weren’t upbeat as usual, she knew something was going on but I didn’t wanna tell her becau-” you cut him off, “I told her” I say, Freddie’s eyes go wide, “that’s why she was mad at me?” He sighs, “hang on” you lean over Freddie to grab your phone.

Y/N:

Freddie and I are working on things. You’ve raised a good man, thank you.

Charlotte:

I’m glad to hear. I was very angry with him after hearing what he was doing with your friend. I tried my best with him. Thank you for sticking around, I love you my dear

Y/N:

I love you, thank you

“I’m so glad the two of you get along so well” he smiles, rubbing your shoulder, “me too, I love your mom a lot” you look up at him, causing him to smile, “she loves you.”

“This is so perfect” I wrap my arm around him, “this is all I want is to be with you like this, just cuddling and talking” I smile, “I’m very lucky to have you, I love you so much” he says, his voice soft, “i love you too baby” and it’s not long before sleep overtakes you.

You both would finally be together and happy. Attending couples counselling every other week. And as far as the Auston thing goes, Freddie didn’t need to know, and you and Auston weren’t exactly super close as you had been before, but you tolerated him for the sake of Freddie.

“I love you” he whispers planting a kiss on your head, pulling you closer into him as he also falls asleep. And when Steph and Mitch get home, they see you two peacefully sleeping and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of their bestfriends finally happy again.

[purple-nana]

Barriers

Part 4 - ( I honestly don’t know what genre is this)

1.5k words  ( Part of the Dorm of us Series)

Warnings: Cursing

Thoughts of many different kinds clouded on Jaemin’s brain. He took his steps while he feels dazed. This night was already weird enough and that happened? What might even happen next at this point?

He fastened his pace as he was already close to the building where their dorm was located. Entering the establishment, everything seems fine as of now. It wasn’t weird for Jaemin that the place was eerily quiet at this time of the night, when people should be partying the heck of themselves.

They specifically picked an area where lousy teenagers won’t live in. The most probable reason would be due to the ‘strange alley’ that you have to pass by in order to get to the building. Also add the fact that the place was mysteriously quiet.

Jaemin wasn’t horrified by any of those well, none of them are. That’s why they were capable of living there. As Jaemin walks across the white tiles, only the sound of his footsteps can be heard in the premises of the building.

Arriving at the dorm, he took out his keys. Surprisingly, his hands remain calm in contrast to bewildered mind. He lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that he hasn’t experienced another uncanny event.

That’s what he thought until he was in sight with a empty living room. Where was everybody? Did he just entered a ghost town or something? Y/n was not sitting like she’s some sort of member from a gang, there’s no Renjun nor Jeno arguing as a background noise for Y/n’s favorite drama series.

Still dazed, he made his way into the dorm. As soon as he removed his coat he immediately threw himself to the couch. Kicking his sneakers, he placed his feet on the coffee table. He knew Renjun will scold him once he saw his sneakers messily thrown to the floor, but he didn’t care. 

He was worn out from all the happenings he just saw today. Jaemin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sitting up straight, he pondered on what he should do to pass time. Because for sure he will not fall asleep that quickly this night.

His gaze fell to the coffee table where he placed his feet previously. He smiles to himself. A stack of art magazines, cookie crumbs, a game console and a comic book. Even in the tiniest bit of detail, the personality of the people who live here we’re still evident. Difference of interests didn’t stop them from being friends.

 As Jaemin stare at the coffee table, a shadow abruptly blocked the light coming from the kitchen. Jaemin looked up, Jeno’s figure engulfing his whole sight. And boy was he angry.

His palms we’re formed into fists. Eyes shooting daggers, giving him a deadly glare. He looks like he was ready to square up. Jaemin gulps nervously.

“Okay, hey there big fella. What seems to be the problem?” He asks, chuckling to hide his anxiousness.

Jeno didn’t respond to him. Instead he went to the nearest wall and leaned on it. Crossing his arms, he continued to stare at Jaemin. A scowl plastered on his face.

Jaemin averted his gaze from Jeno, he might turn into stone from how intense his stare was. “Where’s Y/n by the way? She went home earlier than me.” Jaemin says awkwardly in attempt to liven up the mood.

“She’s in her room, asleep.” Jeno speaks blankly.

Jaemin felt relieved, he lets out a breath that he doesn’t know that he was holding. He’s glad that Y/n got home in one piece. It would have been horrible is she-

“After she just got an anxiety attack.” Jeno continues.

“Oh thank goodness, it was just an- wait what?!” Jaemin’s gasps in disbelief, turning his gaze to Jeno with wide eyes. 

His thoughts have stopped. Y/n. Just. Got. An. Anxiety. Attack. What kind of fuckery is this? Just when he thought that he will finally have a break from these erratic events, another one have happened.

It was a good thing that Y/n arrived at the dorm before she collapsed or something bad could’ve happened to her.

“Yeah she just had an anxiety attack, right there on that dangerous road!” Jeno yells at Jaemin as he tugged open the curtains and points furiously to the strange alley. He lets go of the fabric harshly.“You probably don’t even care about her at all.” His tone lowering down, shaking his head at him.

“I do, it’s just-” 

“What? It even took you like what? Forever. It took you forever to arrive Jaemin, who knows what could’ve happened to her if she didn’t forced herself to carry on!” Jeno cuts his words.

Jaemin sighs in defeat, he knew that it was definitely his fault. But he would have probably caught up with Y/n if there were no unexpected commotions earlier. He looks down, fidgeting his fingers. Avoiding Jeno’s powerful gaze at all costs.

In the midst of their heated conversation, a sleepy Renjun steps out of his bedroom. He doesn’t know how many times did he have to wake up cause someone keeps on disturbing his peaceful sleep.

He was astonished at the scene that was occurring in front of him. It was such an hilarious sight well, for him it was. It was a rare occurrence that the two boys who we’re always allies, now are snapping at each other.

Renjun stood there for a good five minutes or so, taking a mental photograph for this moment. It was all fun until he realized the guys haven’t noticed his presence. 

An ugly disgusting cough echoed through the walls, abruptly cutting Jeno’s scolding session with Jaemin. The two boys slowly turned their gaze to him, a disgusted look plastered on their faces.

“Seriously?” Jeno furrows his eyebrows.

Renjun shrugged. “I had no choice, you two would go on forever if I didn’t do something.” He says as he throw himself to the couch, placing himself in between the two. “How could you not notice me?” He fakes a sulky tone.

“Maybe it’s because you’re small hahaha- ow” Jaemin teases Renjun, earning a hit on his arm. 

Renjun rolled his eyes. “So? What happened here? My precious beauty sleep have been disturbed for the nth time tonight, you two better give a good enough excuse or I will kick your butts off.” Renjun threatens, placing his feet on top of the coffee table as if he was a mafia boss or something.

Jaemin laughs at his friend’s not-so-threatening speech. Jeno just stared at him waiting for an explanation.

“Okay okay fine I’ll explain,” He straightened up his posture, ready to tell a story. “So apparently a lot of things happen today, weird events to be exact,” widening his eyes as he speaks.

Jeno and Renjun listened to what he have to say. They nod in acknowledgement as Jaemin retells the encounters that he had experienced today. Jeno’s expressions softened, realizing that he had thought wrong of Jaemin.

It went on for a straight twenty minutes, he explained every single detail that he can remember. Starting off from his first encounter with Miri to him returning home. Also add the fact that he was rapping his sentences, basically the guys didn’t understood most of his stories.

“Then I arrived here, thinking that the dorm was abandoned or something and Jeno came out of nowhere and gave me a good scolding which he haven’t done before, and boy he looked so agitated.” The two boys thought Jaemin was at a rapping contest, he spews his words at a fast rate. They can’t help but nod in agreement to his words.

“So overall I had about five weird stuff that happened today, it was a good thing I didn’t turn insane. Think about meeting Haechan in that alley, oohh gives me chills.” He shook his body.

“Are you done-” 

“Wait!” Renjun cuts Jeno’s bored words. He stood up, grabbing Jaemin’s shoulders and made eye contact with him.

“You saw wHO?!” Renjun screams. While Jeno guffawed at his voice crack.

“Um Haechan?” Jaemin says with Jeno’s laughter in the background. Causing Renjun to not hear his words.

“Who? Bangchan? Be quiet you moron! Who?” Renjun speaks up, hitting Jeno to make him stop. The boy just rubbed his arm in pain as he silently chuckles, he doesn’t want another smack.

“I saw Haechan, ow shit I forgot to ask him where he lives!” He gasps in realization.

“Oh my ghad. You’re a fool Na Jaemin!” Renjun berates Jaemin in annoyance.

“Bro what do you expect? He’s good looking but he’s dumb.” Jeno sniggered at him.

“ExCuse Me?!” Jaemin stands up, ready to square up.

“We got to find him!” Renjun says, grabbing his coat as he head for the door. The two boys looked at him in confusion.

“Where are you going?” Jaemin asks in an innocent tone.

Renjun rolls his eyes, pulling Jeno to join him. “Where do you think idiot? Of course to find Haechan!”

“At this hour?” They all turned their heads to the wall clock. 4 am.

Renjun sighs. “We have no choice, we got to find him as soon as possible.” He says as he turns the doorknob.

“But I got his number?” Jaemin questions. Pulling the small piece of paper from his phone case, waving it at Renjun.

Renjun’s blood boil.

“NA JAEMIN!”

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[myforeverforlife]

familiar stranger (final).

“It doesn’t feel like home when you’re not with me."

Jongdae’s eyelids fluttered shut, the weight of your words touching the depths of his heart. "You’ll always have me, no matter what. Home hasn’t been the same without you.” His eyes opened, brown pools of color full of adoration as he stared back at you.

Everything was falling back into place.

Disclaimer: This series was planned out before Jongdae’s announcement, and I wanted to finish this for everyone who’s been reading and following along since part one. As always, everything in this is fictional, the only things linked to reality are the use of some character names.

Word Count: 5,734

Masterlist

Series masterlist: ( 1 )  ( 2 )  ( 3 )  ( Final )

Moving day was more organized than you expected. You only had to bring over the pile of stuff you accumulated while staying with Minseok, and the rest already had a place at home with Jongdae. Most of your items were easily settled and in their places within a couple of hours, much to your satisfaction. The only thing left to do was to get the remainder of your clothes put away. 

As you folded and hung up your clothes, it hit you that while most of your other tastes had stayed the same, your choice in clothing hadn't. In the course of six years, your wardrobe had changed almost completely. 

"I feel like I'm shopping through my own closet," you said over your shoulder. Rummaging through coats and sweaters, you were impressed by certain fashions choices, and oddly confused at others. "Did I really wear this orange sweater?" You took it out by the hanger, lifting it up just as Jongdae peeked out from the bathroom. 

"You did, and I always said that you looked like a pumpkin. A very cute pumpkin, I might add." Jongdae laughed, even with his mouth full of toothpaste. 

You hung the fuzzy blob of a sweater back up, failing to hide the smile working its way onto your face at Jongdae's words. "I guess I know why I kept it," you said to yourself as Jongdae finished brushing his teeth. He joined you at the closet soon after, similarly dressed in his well-loved pajamas. 

"I forgot you even had this," he chuckled. Jongdae reached out, fingers running down the woolen fabric of the sweater. "I never knew why you didn't donate or throw it away. You always said it was too scratchy to wear." 

Eyebrows raised in disbelief, you crossed your arms over your chest. "Really? You honestly don't have any idea why?" 

Jongdae was still confused, staring harder at the sweater as if he would find the answer there. "No... why?" 

"I probably kept it because you liked it so much! Who doesn't want to be called a 'cute pumpkin' by their husband?" 

"Huh." Jongdae's head cocked to the head slightly, studying the article of clothing one last time before turning to you. "You didn't have to do that. I know you don't usually like this style." 

"I mean, technically I didn't do anything. 'Past me' did." 

Jongdae smiled, closing the distance and putting his arms around your waist. "Well, 'past you' is still you." He kissed the crown of your head, his lips lingering a but longer before he rested his cheek against your hair. "Ready for bed?" 

It amused Jongdae to watch you hop in on the left side of the bed, a spot you always claimed. You pulled a pillow close to you as you brought the fluffy blanket over your shoulders, sniffing curiously as you caught a whiff of a familiar scent. 

"Lavender," you mused, diving down for another sniff. 

"To help you sleep," Jongdae explained as he turned off the light on the nightstand. "You used to talk about how it takes forever for you to fall asleep." He stifled a laugh as he lay down, resting his head on the pillow underneath. "And if we're being honest, you were sort of jealous of my ability to fall asleep in five seconds flat." 

You mirrored Jongdae, lying down and facing him as you clutched the pillow tightly to you with both arms. "I'm still jealous, now that you've brought that up," you pouted. 

Jongdae cooed with sympathy, scooting closer and bringing one arm up to encircle as much of you as he could. "Hopefully the lavender helps tonight."

"I'm sure it will." You smiled up at him before hugging him back, the pillow between both of you making it hard to get your arm over his waist. To Jongdae's amusement, you shoved the pillow out of the way before snuggling closer, nose pressed into his shirt. 

And sure enough, you slept better than you did in a long time. 

"Y/N, can you bring me the scallops?"

"Yes, chef!" You picked up the hot pan with a towel, warning your fellow chefs as you stepped past before placing on the counter next to Key. He finished plating his risotto before reaching for the scallops, sending you a quick thanks before focusing entirely on the food before him. 

"Mingyu, I need garnish soon! Kyungsoo, get ready to have your salmon up to the counter!" 

Both men were quick to respond to the head chef, Mingyu readying dainty flowers to be sprinkled atop the scallop risotto while Kyungsoo wiped the edges of his salmon dishes. 

You went to check on the meal ticket one last time, making sure that nothing was missing. Under Key's supervision, his dishes were immaculate and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. 

Once Jaehyun came to take the dishes out, the whole process started all over again. Key led your team through a couple orders of spicy pork over cauliflower rice and, much to Kyungsoo's delight, wasabi tacos. Time seemed to fly past as you all finished up the last of the main dishes and started on desserts. 

Service ended with a last order of lychee cheesecake and mini red bean pancakes topped with French vanilla ice cream, your mouth watering at the sight of them. 

"Good work tonight, everybody. That was the best service we've had in a long time. Maybe even since Y/N was last here," he added, giving you a thumbs-up. "Alright, let's clean up and get the hell out of here. I'm dying for a drink." 

You rolled back your shoulders, stretching out the sore muscles and moving onto your neck when Kyungsoo called out to you. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, my body's just stiff. Too much sitting around at home for me really left me out of shape," you joked. 

Kyungsoo's eyes softened in sympathy. "It's tough jumping back into this after so long. You'll get used to it again though."

"Sounds like you speak from experience?"

"Yeah, before I got hired here, I did my military service. I had to leave my job at Junmyeon's old restaurant, Oasis, but he offered me one here once I got out. I thought I'd ease back in like I never left, but it was weird to get back into the habit of cooking in an environment like this. Not just physically, but mentally as well." He leaned back against the counter, throwing the towel in his hand onto his shoulder and crossing his arms. "Luckily, Key is a decent head chef, when he's not sending drunk texts to the groupchat."

"I can hear you Do Kyungsoo, and those counters won't wipe themselves!" Key yelled from the walk-in fridge. 

You stifled your giggles as Kyungsoo flinched, immediately reaching up for his towel and searching for the nearest surface to start cleaning. 

Sure, your body wasn't used to the stress of pulling through a service like this, but you felt better than you had in a long time. It also helped that you had been welcomed back so cheerfully. Of course, everyone in the kitchen was overjoyed to have you there. Your tasks had been divvied up and shared among the remaining four chefs, the managers even stepping in to help wherever they could. 

But you could feel the camaraderie between everyone, and the way that this same friendship was extended towards you. The younger ones liked to rope you into their antics, Lucas and Mark often looking to you for your opinion whenever they got into an enthusiastic discussion about, well, anything. The latest debate had been over which Smash Bros character was the best. 

Your happiness at work filtered into your cheeriness at home, and vice versa. Your parents were even able to pick up on your cheery mood as you talked to them over the phone. Although they were cities away and unable to come up to Seoul as often as they liked, you made the effort to call them at least once a week. 

Jongdae liked to say hi to your parents whenever he heard that you were on the phone with them. Nothing more than the usual effervescent, genuine greeting, and then he left you with a kiss and your privacy to continue your phone call. As familiar as he was with your parents, you were almost terrified about meeting his. It was slightly comforting to know that they loved you already, but meeting your partner's parents was always a nerve-wracking event. Jongdae never pushed you to meet them, much less talk to then until you were ready. 

But deep down, you knew that this was something you would have to do eventually. 

You met them for the first time (again) at his parents on a sunny weekend in March, during a family get-together at their house. Jongdae's older brother was there too with his wife, their little daughter back home spending some time with her maternal grandmother.

It was easy to see where Jongdae's assorted charms came from as you observed his parents. His father was reliable and always ready to lend a hand, even when you didn't say anything. His mother was bubbly and optimistic, constantly refreshing others with a kind word and a warm smile. 

And Jongdae, sweet as ever, was by your side throughout it all. A hand on your waist as you talked to his mom, a hearty laugh when you innocently pointed out that his brother had a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth. 

His childhood home was gone, but his parents still kept a room reserved for him and his brother in their new apartment. Boxes of artifacts from his youth were stacked against the wall, full of yearbooks, letters and stuffed plushies spilling out when you opened them up. 

"You have a teddy bear collection?" you asked, picking up one with a plush skateboard attached to its feet. "This might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Stop," Jongdae whined, falling to the floor and covering his face with his hands as you laughed. "I feel bad about throwing them out."

"I'm serious, Dae. This is adorable." You sat the bear up against the pillows on his bed, lining up bear after bear until you had an entire row there. Some were in better condition than others, but all had been well-loved. 

Jongdae showed you old photos of the band he was in during high-school, an adolescent version of him sporting different hairstyles that his friend did for him. "I let him practice on me, but I drew the line at mohawks. My mom would've killed me, and Jongdeok would've teased me about it forever. Not that he doesn't tease me enough already," he added with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

"How about now?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. "I think you'd look good in one."

Jongdae choked on his laughter, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as you frantically got him up to a sitting position. "I'm fine," he assured you, coughing in between chuckles. "You just surprised me." 

"You mean you don't want a hairstyle that makes you look like a rooster?" you quipped, joining in as Jongdae erupted into giggles once more.

"Okay, that's it, I'm never going with you to the hair salon." His chest continued to rumble with laughter as he leaned against you, his cheek pressed against your head. "I'm glad you're having a good time here."

"Your family's so sweet, how can I not?" 

Jongdae smiled to himself, head ducking down to kiss you. "I'm happy that you're happy, darling." 

Jongdae's family members were so similar to himself, how could you not love them? They welcomed you into the family a second time, your personality suiting their easygoing ways. 

And something you really appreciated — not once did any of them comment on your ring-less finger. 

It had been a journey wracked with guilt and confusion, but you had reached the point where looking at your wedding ring didn't send you into a whirlpool of nervousness. 

A few weeks and sessions unpacking your guilt with Dr. Suh later, you even took to wearing your wedding ring again — although not where you were traditionally expected to. The elegant piece of jewelry hung from a thin silver chain around your neck, an old Christmas present from your father. 

Your ring was the bridge between your present and past — but more importantly, your future. Wearing your ring grounded you, reminded you about how lucky you were to be here now, even if you couldn't remember the past six years. It was comforting to feel the slight pull on your necklace when you leaned forward, the ring swinging forward and catching the light. 

What warmed your heart even more was Jongdae's reaction to seeing it again. 

You had been antsy all day, the ring hidden under your shirt. For all Jongdae knew, you were just wearing a necklace you had rediscovered. But when you leaned down to pick up a pair of shoes, the ring slipped out from its hiding place. Jongdae, who tended to be completely oblivious to his surroundings, took a bit to realize what he was seeing. Once he did, however, his mouth fell open, eyes trained solely on the ring at your neck. No matter how many times you replayed it in your mind, you couldn't figure out who had moved first. All you knew was that both of you were in each other's arms, Jongdae's lips on yours as he kissed you like his life depended on it. 

When he managed to finally pull away, he looked you in the eye, asking why you chose to wear it.

"It just feels right," you murmured, fingers tracing over his collarbones. You couldn't meet his gaze, feeling the the intensity of his eyes on yours. You needed to be clear-headed if you wanted to get your thoughts out correctly. "I used to be scared of it. I knew that I loved you, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for a big commitment like this. It's my first time being married," you finished with a soft laugh. 

Jongdae lifted your chin up gently, waiting until you were looking at him. "You didn't do this just for me, right?" He swallowed back the nervousness creeping up his throat.

You shook your head. "Not just for you or me, but for us, darling." 

Jongdae froze for a second before his hands came up to your cheeks, caressing them softly. “Say it again, please.” His voice was shaky, despite the steadiness of his hands. "I've missed hearing that." 

"Darling Jongdae," you whispered back, your own hands trembling as they reached up to cover Jongdae's where they rested on your face. "I love you. I don't think I ever really stopped." 

Jongdae let out an unexpected sob, closing his eyes and ducking his head. His hands dropped from your face, taking yours down with him. 

"Dae, don't cry," you pleaded, reaching out to be the one to cradle his face now. "Dae," you said tenderly, brushing his bangs back as he tried to hide his tears.

He turned his head, wiping his face on his sleeve before turning back to you. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears clumping his eyelashes together. "I'm happy," he choked out, taking in a shuddering, raspy breath. "You make me happy, Y/N, no matter what you do. But this... nothing even compares to this.” 

"But I'm not even wearing the ring the right way," you murmured, surprised by his strong reaction. 

Jongdae shook his head, brows drawn low over his face, a serious glint to his eye. "It doesn't matter where you wear it. You could wear it on your pinky toe, for all that I care. But I'm... I'm honored that you would choose to wear it again. To choose me again." 

"It's only ever been you, Jongdae. I'd fall for you again, a million times over if it meant I got to be with you." You kissed him, feeling the subtle tickle of his eyelashes against your skin when he closed his eyes. 

"I love you," he breathed, unwilling to move even an inch away when he was already drunk off of you. 

"I love you too, Dae." 

And in your soul, you felt that truer words had never been spoken. 

Winter ended and with it came sunnier spring days, each with their fair share of rainy ones. You and Jongdae had spent these early months of the year cuddled up in late winter's warmth, discovering new things about each other as the first seeds began to sprout. It was normal now for Jongdae to pick you up from work, for both of you to come home and talk about your days over dinner and then spend the rest of the night lazing around. 

Your old worries tended to creep up on you from time to time, but your circle of supporters were always ready to listen and comfort. You confided in Dr. Suh, sharing your deepest, darkest fears about not being able to live up to the person you had been before the accident. It took a lot of talking out your thoughts and thinking through the realities of them, sorting through what was fact and fiction, and the importance of living for now. 

You had gotten so used to having Dr. Suh as another shoulder to lean on that it knocked your world off balance when you got down to your last sessions. 

"I don't think there's anything left for me to help you with," she explained. "You've done an amazing job learning to talk through your problems, and not just to me. I've seen how much you and Jongdae have improved, and I think it's time that I take a step back." 

"This is so weird, it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago that I came in here for the first time," you mused.

"Time really has flown by, hasn’t it?” Dr. Suh took off her glasses, resting them on top of her leg. "You've made so much progress, and I have faith in your abilities to continue your good work. I'll miss my sessions with you and Jongdae, but I sincerely believe that neither of you need me anymore. I'm proud of you both." 

A sudden wave of emotion came over you, gratitude towards Dr. Suh for all of her help over the past months, to uncertainty about the days ahead without these confidential talks in her office. "Are you sure?" you asked meekly. "What do I do if I need help again?" 

"Then I'll always be here. But I think you and Jongdae have done more for each other than I have." Her lips curled upwards, bringing an uncommon youthfulness to her usually calm demeanor. 

"I'm sure together, the two of you will be just fine."

Six months later... 

Your played with the ring hanging from your neck, one foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Tonight was the night. It wasn't your first holiday with Jongdae, and some people wouldn't consider a birthday a "real" holiday anyways, but in your eyes, it was absolutely imperative that everything go smoothly tonight. 

"Y/N, relax, he'll be here soon," Key said, wiping off a few beads of sweat from his forehead. "If you stay in the kitchen any longer, you'll end up sweating in that outfit." 

He had a point. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" you asked, leaning across the counter. Key had done his best to keep you out of the kitchen, sparing one glance at your dress and stating that he wouldn't be the one to get oil or food residue on your outfit. After you begged and pleaded, he begrudgingly agreed to let you sit and watch from across the counter.

"I'm sure," Key emphasized, waving you away with one hand. "Now hurry and get out there before your dress starts to smell like beef or something."

With a snort, you hopped off the stool, pushing open the kitchen door and leaving the chefs to their own devices.

The restaurant was nearly empty, the last few customers finishing up their meals and settling their checks. You had offered to work today, but Irene wouldn't hear of it, especially after hearing of your plans to celebrate Jongdae's birthday. She even insisted that you take your time off to go and treat yourself to some time at a salon. That didn't stop you from showing up an hour before you told Jongdae to meet you, running through your plans and finalizing them. 

For your sake, the restaurant was closing early tonight so that you and Jongdae would have the whole place to yourselves. Well, yourselves, and the rest of the staff who you knew would be eavesdropping at every moment. 

"Y/N!" Junmyeon called out, coming over with two copies of your menu. "We finally got the printer to work, what do you think?" 

In his hands were two menus, the thick leaves of paper already laminated and placed inside the leather bindings. You read down the list, nodding contentedly at what you saw there. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Myeon. I know how much trouble the printer was giving you." 

"If it's for you and Jongdae, it's not a problem. You can pay me in leftover food, though." He laughed as he walked away, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink with mirth. 

One table by the window had been especially reserved for both of you, the table settings already freshly cleaned after the previous diners. You leaned over, rearranging the petite flowers in the vase that sat there, the golden sunshine of their petals instantly lifting your mood. The simple arrangement held a mix of dandelions and black-eyed Susans, with some sprigs of baby's breath to add some subtle contrast. As much as you and Jongdae both loved lavender, you noticed how he was always drawn to any sort of buttery, yellow flower. His face had brightened up when you brought some home the other day, his nose disappearing into the depth of petals as he smelled the fragrant scent. He made you laugh when he picked one out, sticking it behind his ear as you both did the rest of your Saturday chores. 

"Y/N, it's almost time!" Irene came up from behind, smoothing down your hair and giving you a final look-over. She nodded to herself when she was satisfied, gently pushing you into a chair.

"Irene, I'm probably gonna stand up again once he comes in," you said, even as your boss meticulously straightened out every little bit and piece on the table. 

"That might be true, but when Jongdae walks up to the entrance, the first thing he's going to see is you sitting here by the window. With the light coming at you from this angle and your vase of flowers here, you look like you belong in a painting. Jongdae will be at a complete loss for words."

Your lips quirked up at the unexpected compliments, thanking your friend for her help tonight.

"I'm happy to do this for you, Y/N. We all are." She glanced up, spotting something through the window. "I'd say good luck, but I know that you won't need it."

You followed her line of sight, sitting up in your seat and craning your neck until you saw Jongdae, frozen on the path leading up to the restaurant. He broke out of his stupor when he met your eye, raising a hand to wave shyly. You didn't even notice Irene as she slipped away discreetly, your heart melting at the sight of Jongdae. Your boss may have tried to frame you like a portrait in a museum, picturesque and pleasing to the eye, but no work of art could surpass Jongdae's beauty in your eyes. 

Jongdae greeted Johnny at the entrance, following through the charade as the taller man led him to your table — the only occupied table in the entire restaurant. He took his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his legs as he gave you a crooked smile. "Hi, darling. I didn't think we'd be the only ones here tonight." 

"Being friends with the owner has its perks," you shrugged nonchalantly. "Happy birthday, Dae." You had already wished him a happy birthday multiple times already, but you were overflowing with festive cheer. It was your first time celebrating his birthday, and you intended to make this a night he wouldn't forget. 

"Thank you," Jongdae replied sweetly, his hand reaching over the table to meet yours. 

Johnny came back with drinks and your specially crafted menus. There was only one option listed for each course, but you had made sure to pick dishes that Jongdae absolutely loved. His face lit up as he read down the list, unconsciously swallowing as if he could already taste the food. "Babe, this all sounds amazing. How am I gonna eat all of this?"

"I'm sure we'll find a way. And if we don't, at least we've got a full staff to help us out." You nodded towards the kitchen, Jongdae following suit only to see Key staring through the window. The head chef was unfazed at being caught, waving quickly before he disappeared from view and sending you and Jongdae into a fit of giggles. 

The first course was the appetizer: a sampler of short ribs cooked in several ways. The bites were small, but enough to hold you over until the next course. Jongdae, ever the carnivore, dug in with gusto. "This isn't a dish on the menu, is it? Did you come up with this?" he asked in awe.

"I planned it with Key and Soo. They both helped me with the flavor combinations." 

Jongdae sighed happily. "You're a genius. I could kiss you right now, you know?"

"I'd be fine with that," you smiled, leaning closer.

The door to the kitchen swung open, Ten coming to bring you the main course. You and Jongdae both jumped back in your seats, laughing quietly at your shared embarrassment.

If Jongdae was ecstatic at the sight of the appetizer, he was completely overjoyed when he saw what the main course was. "It's your kimchi stew," he gaped in wonder. 

You had practiced the beloved recipe, the one from your cookbook that reduced you to tears months ago. It had taken a couple of test trials in the kitchen before you felt that it was absolutely perfect, nothing less than what you wanted to present to Jongdae. Tonight, Kyungsoo was in charge of it, but you trusted him with your recipe wholeheartedly. 

Jongdae closed his eyes as soon as he took the first bite, the familiar spiciness and warmth rushing over him. "God, this is so good," he gushed, opening his eyes to meet your proud smile. 

"I'm glad you like it. Kyungsoo did a great job with it tonight." 

Jongdae nodded, scooping up some rice from the stone bowl beside his stew. "I'll have to give my compliments to the chef," he joked with a twinkle in his eye.  

When both of you were done and felt like you couldn't eat any more, Ten came back to clear your dishes. You knew what was going to happen next, and the dormant butterflies in your stomach began to fly into a frenzy. Across from you, Jongdae sat oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I don't know if I can eat any more. But then again, Mom always said I had a separate stomach for dessert." He laughed, hands resting over his full belly as you joined in. 

"Well, I guess we'll see if that's true." 

Jongdae raised an eyebrow, about to ask something when some of the lights went out, only your little corner by the window still illuminated by light. A chorus of singing could be heard from the kitchen, only to come flooding out once the doors opened. 

Junmyeon carried the cake out, concentrating hard on singing and walking at the same time. Irene was beside him, hands outstretched as if she expected the cake to fall at any moment. Kyungsoo was right behind, the cake knife wrapped in a cloth napkin and held carefully in his hands as his cheeks glowed with excitement. The rest of the staff followed along, singing turning to shouts and cheers as the fun of it all started to sink in. Even Minseok and Baekhyun were there, Minseok recording on his phone and Baekhyun with a party hat on his head.

"Happy birthday!" Baekhyun yelled once the singing was over and the applause died down. He took off his hat to put it on Jongdae's head instead. Of course, always ready to go along with the fun, Jongdae let his best friend put the silly hat on him. It was much too small, and you were sure that he would have a mark on his chin from the rubber band, but none of it bothered him at all. 

Junmyeon managed to get the cake onto the table without any incidents, much to everyone's relief. He hid behind Mingyu to wipe away the sweat at his temples while Jongdae grinned appreciatively at the cake.

"Matcha cheesecake?" he asked, eyes flashing up to meet yours. 

"The one and only. I hope you like it, Dae." 

"I love it, all of this. Thank you so much, darling." He brought your hand up, pressing a feather-light kiss to the knuckles there. 

"Don't forget to make a wish," Minseok spoke up, still recording every moment. 

Jongdae took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. It was almost like watching him pray, the way he whispered to himself so softly, no one else could hear. He opened his eyes and blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers and applause once more. 

Soon, the cake was cut and pieces passed around. Jongdae had tried to cut it at first, but the slices were in danger of coming out horribly uneven, so Kyungsoo stepped in. Everyone was scattered throughout the restaurant, lounging around and talking over their cake. They were mindful of your privacy, varied conversations never interrupting the intimacy shared at your table. 

"Y/N, thank you so much for tonight," Jongdae murmured, now without his birthday hat. "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"Really?" you asked, fork stopping halfway to your mouth as your froze, taken off-guard.

"Really," he repeated. "I can tell how much work you put into this, you and everyone here. I still can't believe how lucky I am to have someone do this for me." 

"I do it because I love you, Dae." You set your fork down, the metal clattering against the ceramic plate. "I actually have one last surprise," you stammered out. The butterflies in your stomach had now reached peak frenzy, almost rendering you frozen. 

Jongdae watched, half intrigued and the other half worried by the trembling of your fingers. You reached up to undo the clasp of your necklace, slipping your ring off of the chain and cradling it in your other hand. 

"At the beginning of this year, I wasn't sure what would happen to me. I was terrified and lost, and it took everything I had to even try to piece my life back together." You paused, licking your dry lips and readying yourself for the next words. Jongdae's eyes were wide, emotion swirling in that expressive face of his. The love and awe that you saw there spurred you on, words coming more readily. 

"I was scared of falling back in love with you because I knew even less about you than I knew about myself. And the more I found out about you, the deeper I fell. It was the biggest leap of faith I'd ever taken, trusting myself to you and hoping that we would both come out unscathed. And now, every single day, I'm so thankful to have you in my life. I love you more than I can say in words, more than I will ever remember. Kim Jongdae, will you marry me a second time?" 

Jongdae jumped up, surprising you and everyone else in the room who had been listening in. He came around the table, stooping down to cup your cheeks gently before he kissed you. 

Someone started hooting and cheering, but it was merely background noise to you. How could you focus on anything else when Jongdae was kissing you like you were the most precious thing he had ever set eyes on? 

"Is that a yes?" you mumbled against his lips, raising an eyebrow when Jongdae chuckled softly. 

"Yes, with all of my heart." Jongdae crouched down beside you, on his knees as he took the ring from your hand. Both of you watched as he slid it carefully onto the finger that had been bare for so long. Once it was nestled safely against your skin, you pulled him back in for another kiss, giggling when your friends began to crowd the two of you again. 

"Yo, but can people really get married twice?" Mark asked to no one in particular, looking from face to face for his answer.

"I was thinking more of us renewing our vows, but asking him to marry me just seemed more romantic," you explained with a laugh. 

"And it worked," Jongdae added, his hand stroking the side of your face. "I'd marry you a thousand times over, if you asked me to." 

"Don't say that, she'll really make you do it," Minseok interrupted.

You stuck your tongue out at your older brother, ignoring the chuckles of amusement at your childish reaction. Jongdae reached down to pick up your left hand, his thumb running reverently over the ring there. 

"Thank you," he whispered to you, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you for choosing me again, even after everything." 

"Darling, I always will. Even after every hardship, every unexpected thing that comes out way, we’ve managed to still make it out together. With you, I'm never lost." 

Jongdae's gaze softened, his brown eyes reflecting your own hopes and dreams back for you to see. You felt his thumb run over your ring again, the touch comforting and immediately putting you at ease. "You'll never be lost again," he said sincerely. 

"I promise." 

Series masterlist: ( 1 )  ( 2 )  ( 3 )  ( Final )

A/N: and that’s a wrap! thank you to everyone who’s been reading not only this series, but any of my jongdae fics since I started posting them here! 💕💕💕

for the flowers in the vase: baby's breath means long lasting love, dandelions can mean bravery, personal growth, healing, perseverance (there were lots of mixed meanings) and black-eyed susans mean encouragement.

if you guys remember the small paragraph I shared of this a long, long time ago before I really started working on the series, this will seem pretty different from that. I went through a lot of changes after hearing about jongdae's good news because I didn't want to write a jongdae scenario so close to reality. i’m still happy to end this series on a good note, and I can genuinely say that i’ve enjoyed every moment not only of writing this, but for writing everything i’ve done for jongdae. I won’t be writing any reader x jongdae fics anymore, but there’s always a good chance he’ll show up as a side character in future works! 

tag list: @khelmatic​ @chogi-wae​ @wongxiexie​

[im-a-star-boy]

Toe Socks

So it appears I may be confined to posting the crackhead fics that @fandomsumthing and I write. Enjoy this... thing.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Summary: Miles gets an idea and Peter decides he will disown Miles until he repents for his sins.

Word Count: 2375

Date of Completion: Sunday, November 17th, 2019

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Proud would be an understatement for how Miles was feeling. Or had taken him an hour to get the measurements correct and another to sow it. Usually, Peter would be the one making the suits but this idea had just come to him and there was no time to ask Peter. After all, it was passed one am so he’d be asleep anyways. Probably.

Now, what was it that made Miles miss out on a full night's sleep? Toe socks on his spider suit. Of course, he made another suit altogether because he didn’t want to ruin the one Peter had fixed so many times. Since he had to remake the suit altogether, he didn’t add as much tech into it as he usually did. While he created the suit, he couldn’t help but wonder what Peter would think of his ingenious idea. He felt himself begin to laugh, as he realized he wouldn’t be getting any sleep whatsoever that night. Eh, it’d be worth it. By the time he finished the suit, he was nearly late to class. He put the new suit in his bag and sprinted to Horizon High. 

“Peter!” He called, seeing the ever-so-familiar red hoodie. 

Peter looked up and smiled as he saw his spider-bro. “Hey, Miles!” He called.

“Dude, I gotta show you something!” Miles said, his excitement showing through.

“Okay.” Peter was intrigued by his enthusiasm. Miles motioned him to follow and so he did. 

They were in Miles’ lab and Miles took off his bag and opened it. Peter watched as Miles took out his Spider suit.

“What’s so important about the suit?” Peter asked, crossing his arms with an amused smile.

“Look at the feet,” Miles said. Peter looked down at the feet and his smile disappeared. What replaced it was confusion then disgust mixed with fear.

“Miles,” Peter said, disappointment dripped from his voice. “I am going to walk out of this room for one minute, and when I walk back in, I expect that cursed object to be in the trash or on fire. Preferably both.” 

Miles laughed, not taking Peter’s threats seriously. But Peter soon turned and walked out of the room. Miles continued to laugh, progressively laughing harder. After the fated minute, Peter walked back in. “Miles get rid of it!” He shouted, giving the suit a disgusted look.

Miles continued to wheeze. “Peter- but- it’s great- oh my god I can’t I-” Miles trailed off, nearly falling over with laughter.

“Miles I swear to god I’m burning it,” Peter shouted, running to grab the suit.

As he reached for it, Miles grabbed it, holding it close to his chest, still laughing like a maniac. “Peter- how can you hate this?! It’s amazing!” He shouted.

“Miles I swear to god get RID of it!” 

Before the two could continue their argument, the warning bell rang, warning them that they had 5 minutes to get to class. “We’ve got patrol tonight. I expect that- that THING to be dead and gone by then.” Peter warned. Peter then stormed out, catching Anya’s attention. Miles walked out right after him, but Peter speeds up. 

“What’s up with him?” Anya asked as he caught up to Miles.

“He doesn’t understand true brilliance,” Miles said simply.

The whole day was spent with Peter glaring at Miles as a warning sign every chance he got. It didn’t go unnoticed by Anya and Gwen. Miles saw them, but he didn’t care. It had taken him hours to make that one suit and he’d be damned if he didn’t wear it at least once. Plus, Peter has done some pretty cursed things in and out of the suit, how was this any different?

The time rolled around to their patrol and Miles had got into the suit. It felt slightly weird a first, but it also felt freeing in a strange way. He swung to the building where he planned to meet Peter. “Hey, Spidey!” He greeted happily.

Peter simply crossed his arms and glared at him. “Is the suit destroyed?” He asked, his voice unusually stoic.

Miles grinned giddily under the mask. “Nope!” He shouted, wiggling his toes. 

Peter looked down to see Miles was actually wearing. How on God’s green earth is he wearing that cursed suit?! “Kid- I refuse to be seen with you while wearing that suit. You can either go change now, or I’ll never forgive you.” Peter replied, only half-joking.

“Come on, Spidey, it isn’t that bad!”

Peter simply replied with swinging away, leaving Miles alone on the rooftop. As Miles caught up and tried to get Peter to talk to him, Peter remained silent. Even as Miles began to poke fun at his and Harry’s relationship, bringing up more embarrassing moments.

There was the sound of bank alarms below them going off. They jumped down from the nearest building and ran to the scene. There were two small guys holding bags and buff guy holding a safe. 

Spider-Man took on the small guys first, getting them webbed to a wall in a matter of seconds. Kid Arachnid took on the bigger guy who was just refusing to go down.

“I could use your help Spidey!” Miles called from the man’s back, but quickly getting off as the man swatted at him.

“Get rid of the suit,” Peter said with his arms crossed.

“No!” Miles said jumping on top of the guy only to be flung off again.

“Then you can handle him by yourself.” Peter then leaned against a street light, his arms still crossed, and watched as Miles struggled. The guy didn’t have superpowers so he knew Miles could handle it by himself. If the guy did display any superpowers then he would leave Miles to tending with the small guys.

Miles knew deep down that Peter would never put him in a situation where he'd get hurt. But right now it really felt like Peter was betraying him. "REALLY FEELING LIKE YOU DONT LIKE ME MUCH ANYMORE."

After a massive power struggle, Miles managed to pin the man to the wall. Peter was watching him closely with his arms crossed, while Miles struggled to catch his breath. "Are you ever gonna get over this?" Miles asked. 

Peter just squinted, before turning and swinging away. Miles let out a heavy sigh, before swinging after him. "Come on man!" 

“Dude, we’re partners!” Miles whined when he finally reached Peter. Peter didn’t respond to him, getting Miles worried. “We are partners, aren’t we?”

“As long as you’re wearing or have that thing in your possession, no fucking way,” Peter said landing on a building.

“It’s just a suit! You’re overreacting!” Miles complained as he landed next to him.

“That is not a suit! That is monstrous! If you want to be Kid Arachnid then you’ll get rid of that thing!” Peter yelled.

Miles threw his hand on his chest dramatically. "You don't mean that!" He shouted. 

Peter stopped for a moment before making a so-so motion. "I refuse to make eye contact with you until that thing is gone," Peter said firmly. 

"You don't mean that. "

~~~One Week Later~~~

"DUDE IT'S BEEN A WEEK GET OVER IT." Miles screeched. 

"NEVER MORALES," Peter shouted back. 

Gwen and Anya watched the sight before them. It had been like this all week, and they've gone to both Miles and Peter to find out what the hell was going on. All they got out of Miles was, "Peter's refusing to accept brilliance when it slaps him in the face." And all they got out of Peter was an irritated, "he has dishonored his own name and I refuse to speak to him until he apologizes for the sin he has created." 

“AT LEAST LOOK AT ME!” Miles begged, trying to get in front of Peter. Peter faced a corner as he tried.

“NO,” Peter said firmly.

“I swear- I WILL CRAWL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS PARKER!” Miles screamed from behind him. Knowing the Miles was a hundred percent serious about, Peter covered his eyes. 

“I think we should call Harry,” Gwen whispered to Anya.

“Just Harry? How about the Avengers.” Anya said, taking out her phone and pressing Harry’s contact. They held the speaker away from them so Harry could hear what was going on. As soon as he picked up he was greater with screaming.

“TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT ME PARKER!” Miles yelled, trying to pull Peter’s hands off his face.

“GET YOUR GRUBBY BABY HANDS OFF OF ME MORALES,” Peter yelled back.

"Umm, what's happening?" Harry began, sounding confused. 

"We were hoping you could tell us that. Peter and Miles have been at each other's throats for the past week. Do you know what happened?" Anya asked. 

"This is the first I've heard about this, so no. I'll head over to try and smooth things out, are you guys at Horizon?" He asked. 

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry." Gwen sighed. 

"No problem. I'll be over there in a bit." 

The line went dead as Anya looked up in time to witness Peter throw Miles over his shoulder while screeching "YEET".

Miles screamed as he hit the floor before shouting, "PETER!" As the boy in question sprinted out of the room. 

He made a mad dash down the hallway, Miles following right behind him. Peter was so close to screaming because Miles could jump and grab him at any moment. 

“We should probably get them back into this room before a teacher or other student sees,” Gwen said.

“Yeah, we should.” Anya sighed and got ready to chase, but Miles ran back into the room screaming.

“HE TRIED TO TAZE ME!” He yelled, hiding behind a desk. Gwen and Anya stood ready to face Peter, but he didn’t come.

"He… he has a taser?" Gwen asked, surprised by the concept. 

"YEAH!" Miles screamed. 

Gwen and Anya shared a confused look. "Believe me, Peter won't be chasing me." Miles scowled. 

"What did you do to him." Anya snapped. 

"YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!" Miles cried out. 

“PUT ME DOWN, THEOPOLIS.” The three heard from outside the door.  “I WILL TAZE YOU!” 

“No, you won’t. Hey, could someone open the door?” Harry called from outside. Gwen opened the door to Harry with Peter slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Peter was slapping Harry’s back, enough to sting but not bruise.

Anya watched in amazement as Harry plopped down on the couch and held Peter close. Despite his angry… hissing, after a few moments, Peter went quiet. Still looking angry, but not kicking and hissing. "Okay. Care to enlighten me as to what happened?" Harry asked, still not releasing the angry spider. 

Peter made an irritated noise before saying, "Miles made something cursed." 

When Harry gave him a confused look, Peter whispered quietly to him what happened. Gwen and Anya just barely couldn't pick up what he said, when Harry replied. "Oooh, oh…"  Before making a face. "Hey, Gwen? Anya? Could you two leave for a moment? It's nothing important, just something we'd rather not broadcast, you know?" Harry asked. 

The two looked at each other, suddenly even more lost than before, but nodded. "Alright.. we'll go."

They left and as soon as the door shut, Harry began to laugh.”Miles, what the actual fuck?” Harry said once able to get out his laughter.

“It’s pure genius, thank you very much,” Miles said crossing his arms.

“I hope the Statue of Liberty throws her torch at that..that thing.” Peter hissed.

“Can I see it?” Harry asked. He was done right curious to see how cursed this suit was. 

“Gladly,” Miles said happily.

He brought out the suit and showed them. Harry cringed and began laughing. "Miles, as much as I want to take your side in this argument... I just can't. You have to admit that is cursed." He said, shaking his head. 

"It isn't though!" Miles defended, "Come on, we've made worse suits, Peter!"

"No, we haven't! This is where I draw the line!" Peter screeched, shooting up and almost headhunting Harry's jaw. 

"Come on Pete, as horrible as it is, you gotta forgive Miles. It's not good for your team dynamic." Harry sighed. 

Peter made a face. "I'm willing to if you get rid of that thing." Peter hissed. 

“Okay, but what if we got into a situation where we had to get you really angry to get back to yourself?” Miles said, trying desperately to keep the suit. 

“It won’t happen, now give it to me so I can burn it.” Peter held out his hand.

“Peter, no-“ Miles began.

“Give it here or I’ll out you as Kid Arachnid,” Peter said in a cold voice.

Miles gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, bitch." Peter hissed. 

"Woah okay, language!" Harry shouted, putting his hand over Peter's mouth. 

When Peter licked his hand in an attempt to get Harry to move it, Harry seemed unfazed. He gave Peter a look. "Peter we've had sex and you honestly think licking my hand is gonna make me move?" Harry deadpanned. 

Miles flushed before shouting, "EW DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW THAT!"

Harry gave him a look. "Did that honestly come as a surprise to you?"

"CHANGE THE SUBJECT, PLEASE!" Miles screeched. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, Miles, please just cooperate with this," Harry begged lightly. 

Miles huffed, before turning around and throwing it in the trash can. "Happy?" He growled, looking unhappy. 

"Yes," Peter growled, pushing Harry's hand away. 

“Now will you talk to me?” Miles said, now hopeful.

“Starting with tomorrow. I gotta do something tonight.” Peter said, get up and take out the suit from the trash can. “It’s bonfire night.” 

Peter put the suit in his bag then left. Miles felt sadness in his soul as he watched his favorite suit leave, then he remembered. He still had the measurements. This time, however, he won’t let Peter see it. Harry watched as Miles pulled out his phone. "You're about to make that suit again, aren't you?" Harry asked. 

Miles looked up, startled by the fact he was still here. "Yeah.. don’t tell Peter."

Harry laughed and stood up. As he walked by, he tapped Miles' shoulder. "Friendly word of advice, make it pajamas."

[sinfulbrothers]

You got the letter I sent you a few weeks back.

I have to admit I didn't expect you wouldn't receive it, I had a demon drop it off to wherever the hell you were staying at.

I imagine it's a crappy motel with shitty TV stations, ones we used to stay at all the time when we were kids.

Remember when dad would get angry every-time he came back to the motel room and see we were up sleeping? Remember that?

He'll he'd probably still yell at us for being such fuck ups.

You can ignore my texts and calls as much as you want Dean.

But we both know you have to come home sometime.

I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse routine.

I hunt you down, you run off to god knows where and then I'm stuck trying to find you again.

But I have a feeling I won't be the cat for long.

-Sammy W.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Three more calls and four texts, he still hasn't picked up," The youngest winchester glanced over at the male across the table. Castiel sat there hands resting on the table looking over pictures from different traffic lights, cameras and whatever else he could find. "The son of a bitch thinks this is some sort of game. Anything, Cas?" He raised an eyebrow at the used to be Angel.

The male shook his head, "It is just the same old stuff, Sam. No clue of where Dean would be hiding out. The only person that knows where Dean is hiding would be Crowley. And he and I aren't on the best of terms.." He made quotations around the word 'terms' and 'best'. He still really wasn't the best at English. "Maybe we should wait until there is a police report on a Chevy Impala. On baby."

Sam shifted in his seat frowning, "Dean is smart enough to not get caught doing something illegal in baby. If there was a police report it would be at some bar or store. Like the gas station that was robbed." He slid his laptop over to the male, "Check out some things while I go on a run. There isn't much you need to know about computers." He smiled softly sliding his phone into his pocket, heading out to his '65 mustang, light blue. A beautiful car. He jumped in and he was off to the nearest store.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A familiar '65 mustang pulled into the Save-A-Lot parking lot, he couldn't help but smirk. Seeing his big bulky dork of a brother climb out of the drivers seat. It was a wonder how he fit his big moose ass in there. The car was shorter than Sam was tall. He snorted sitting back in the drivers seat of the impala, hands on the steering wheel. "Here Sammy Sammy Sammy." He whispered whistling, pushing the drivers seat door open he climbed out. Cracking his knuckles following up behind his brother. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck yanking him to the ground with inhuman strength.

"De--" Was all the young winchester got out before the lights went out for him. Dean lugged the tall male over to the impala, throwing him in the back seat among the other beer bottles and trash.

——————————————-

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy."

"You wanted your big bro back, well you got 'em."

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"SAMANTHA."

Sam's eyes shot open, his ears ringing, what the hell? A frown plastered on his lips as he tried to sit up, a force was holding him down. He heard it again, "Sammy." That was Dean's voice, what the hell was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be at the shopping center? "Aww look Sammy is confused again. How cute. Let's cut to the chase," The eldest winchester spoke up, his voice rough like a rocky road. He came walking out of the corner of the motel room swinging a baseball bat. Twirling it and throwing it in the air, only to catch it again. "You," He pointed the bat at Sam, poking his nose with it lightly. Sam pushed it away giving his demon brother a face.

"Need to stop looking for you. Yeah I caught the jiff." Sam stood up brushing his brown hair back out of his face.

Crack.

Dean swung the bat, smacking Sam right in the shin. For a second Dean swore the bat had snapped, then he realized it was Sam's shin.  "Sit down." He growled at his younger sibling. Sam obeyed. "Obey like the good dog you are. Isn't that right, Sammy?" He chuckled, gripping the baseball bat tight. "You either stop looking for me or I'll put you down right where you stand, got that? I won't hesitate to tear your pretty little head off with my teeth. Bet it'll taste real good. Have some actual freedom from all this hell around ya, Sammy." He winked at his brother.

"But Dea--"

Crack.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me with the damn bat!" Sam cursed loudly attempting to take the thing from Dean, it was a lousy attempt but at least he tried to do something. "I'll fucking stop looking for you. Just tell me one thing...why are you doing this? These crimes? The killings."

"The killings? Those are all angels. All 14 of 'em. Of course we aren't counting the humans, right?" Sam didn't even recognize his brother behind that wolffish grin. His gaze dropped to the floor shuddering in major discomfort. "Crowley sent a few demons to try to take me out. Not even the king can contain this beast."  Sam opened his mouth to speak, "Ahh except..you have a body behind your little adventure. The man you made sell his soul so you could find me. Naughty naughty sammy. Put him through that and he still gets killed, just sooner. Oh by the way...tell angel wings I said hi."

Dean swung the bat hard.

"Fucking Hell that's gonna leave a nice bruise."

———————————-

He awoke to a dog sniffing at his jeans and clawing at his jacket, attempting to locate anything edible on him. Or maybe it was getting ready to eat his face off. It didn't need to happen either way. Sam shoved the creature to the side earning a Yelp/Whimper from the creature as it bolted down the alleyway and out into the streets. An on coming car stated, 'Stupid animals! Should all be killed!' Speeding by the creature. People had no respect for these animals, or much of anything in that matter. He pushed up sitting up against the wall, yanking his phone out of his pocket, "Cas? Yea. I need a ride back to the bunker. Think I'm by the barber shop and the tattoo parlor east of the grocery store. Yep..it was Dean. No he didn't say anything about you. He did break my shin. Just..get here as soon as you can." He sighed shutting the phone tossing it across the alley way.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

"They have towed your car away," Was the first thing the used-to-be-Angel said to the male, helping him up to the car. "You will have to get it another time we need to get back to the bunker. There is something you need to see. It's important." Cas walked around the other side of the car jumping in the drivers seat, starting up the piece of crap he began driving off in the direction of home. But it wasn't home for Sam. Not without his brother. His brother was his home and would always be.

"So what's this thing and why is it so important?" He raised an eyebrow staring Castiel down.

The Angel sighed gripping the wheel loosely as he leaned back getting comfortable, "It's Dean. He was by the bunker while you were out. This was after I was told to look up things on the inter webs. The bunker door flew open and before I knew it I was on the floor. He took something from your room but I cannot figure out what." He sighed heavily, frowning immensely, "I was thinking it was some books...or maybe the tracker you had put on him.."

"The only thing in my room was papers and books, he would've had to taken some books. If not then..pictures? That wouldn't make any sense." He shook his head staring out the window, wincing. "We'll figure it out later. Right now I need to get my leg fixed up. Can't do anything on a broken bone."

"Alright. I will get the supplies while you stay put." Cas climbed out helping Sam down into the bunker, making sure he stayed sitting down before wandering off to gather some supplies.

Sam fiddled with the loose pieces of paper on the table, sliding them over the edge watching them float down to the floor. Something he would do as a kid, watch paper float down to the floor. It didn't sound fun and it wasn't. Sam chuckled remembering when Dean got angry when Sam would cover the motel room in paper. The crinkling noise always annoyed the shit out of Dean. He slid another paper across the wooden surface, catching it right before it fell.

'I sure enjoy your love letters, Sam. But has anyone told you you're not my type? Tall and lengthy isn't my thing. By the time you read this I'm sure I already broke one of your legs. Told you to leave me alone and then you're back here planning something again. As usual. For every time I catch glimpse of you I'll kill someone. Child, adult, elderly. I'll kill them. This is a warning. One slip up and someone is going ten feet under. Oh..I left a bit of a surprise under your pillow. Hope you enjoy it. It seems you need a girlfriend if you catch my drift little brother.'

He really didn't even want to know what Dean had left him under his pillow, probably some sex toy. He shuddered quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. "Find everything okay?" When Castiel nodded he smiled softly, sliding his pants leg up, hoisting his injured leg up onto the table. "I was thinking, maybe we can take a break for a bit. Let Dean cool off before we try to find him again. He seemed pretty pissed off. Sure the mark is the cause of that but Dean sort of always has his panties in a bunch."

The Angel simply nodded, "Okay." After that the room remained silent.

—————————————————

He had the right plan, all he needed was for Sam to take the bait. Hell he wished he would've stuck with killing people, been more fun and the police would've been involved. Sure they were a pain in the ass but still. He found it funny as hell to watch Sam struggle to get around the cops when they got suspicious of him asking "too" many questions. Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean brushed a hand through his ever so growing hair, sitting back in the bar stool. Sam had just found the the toy his older brother had left him. "Get a girlfriend," Dean scowled taking a long gulp of beer, spinning in his chair and sliding off. He pushed by a few customers walking out, climbing into his "baby" he drove off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

You're probably dead

He was correct about Sam, the man really was trying to locate him again like the crazed idiot he was. Damn. Dean threw the impala door open walking over to his brother gripping his shoulder tight, a faint crack starting. "Whatcha doing Sammy? Looking for me again? Did you not get my letter? Man I know I'm not good with the whole pen pals thing.." He sighed heavily cracking Sam upside the head, sending him stumbling into the side of the tow truck building. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, then black eyes meeting his. "You won't stop until I'm back, guessing that means I have to kill ya."

Sam's vision darkened as the grip on his throat tightened, then everything went black.

[bloodiedskirtts]

The Safest Way To Go | Part Two: I love that no one knows

Summary: Parties are always trouble

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst, cheating, smut 18+

A/N: TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it! Gif not mine, credit to owner.

Safest Way To Go Masterlist

‘Are you coming to the party tonight?’ she asked, turning to Bucky who was looking at his camera, with a concerned look on his face.

‘Earth to James,’ she teased, as she turned back to the stove. She was cooking breakfast for them, wearing just his t-shirt and her panties. It had been a week since they had their argument, she had come home three hours after leaving. She told Grant she had a headache and he left her back to her apartment. He offered to bring her up the stairs, but she shook her head, telling him she could manage, they had a elevator anyway. She dodged his kiss before slipping out of the car. Thankfully, all her friends had left and Bucky was in his bed when she got back. Without a second thought she had her dress pulled off and was climbing into bed with him.

He didn’t protest when their lips crashed together, and he hadn’t complained about her wearing his clothes since then. Especially not when she was cooking him breakfast in just his t-shirt. Her hair was a mess from the night before and that morning. He bit his lip before lifting his camera and snapped a few pictures of her.

‘Are you taking pictures of me without my consent, James Buchanan Barnes?’ she asked, with a smirk on her face.

‘I am an artist,’ he replied with a shrug.

She crossed the kitchen to where he was sitting, straddling him with a smirk.

‘And what does that make me?’ she asked, as his fingers gripped her hips, bringing his lips up to ghost over hers.

Just as she moved closer to him, his phone binged, she grabbed it from the table beside him. Her heart dropping when she saw it was that girl from the coffee shop that he was texting. She got over his lap as he handed him the phone, before she returned to the stove.

Bucky sighed as he quickly typed a reply, his eyes quickly focusing back on the woman in front of him. His eyes on the soft curve of her ass, where it met her legs that he wanted desperately to be wrapped around his head right now.

‘So are you coming?’ she asked.

‘Wait what?’ he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

‘Tonight? To Scott’s party?’ 

‘Eh, sure, doll,’ he replied as she put his plate down in front of him. ‘Who is coming tonight?’

She smiled, sitting across from him, ‘Steve and Peg, obviously. Sam will be there preying on the sorority girls. So Natasha will be there to keep in him line. I think Sharon is working though which sucks.’

‘Anyone else?’ he asked, his mouth full of bacon.

She made a face, ‘Who else is there? Oh...I guess you can invite coffee shop girl, if you want.’

Please, God don’t invite her, she thought to herself. Her stomach dropped as she pushed her eggs around the plate, her appetite suddenly disappearing.

‘Naw, doll. Think it should just be the old gang,’ he teased, getting up to grab some orange juice.

Her eyes focused on him, the way his muscles in his back rippled as he stood up. She bit her lip as her eyes fell to the material of his boxers which clung to his ass, waiting for him to turn around so she could see the sizeable bulge. However, she was shaken from her thoughts when their door opened.

‘Sam, I gave you that key in case of emergencies,’ she laughed and he threw himself on the couch.

‘This is an emergency!’ he whined, ‘I had a Tinder date last night and she won’t leave.’

Bucky and Y/N looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Peggy and Nat were sitting on her bed as they got ready for the party. All three of them were already tipsy, Y/N shaking her ass at the Rihanna song that was blaring out of her speakers. 

‘I look hella cute,’ she said as she posed in the mirror, holding her cup of vodka and coke in the air. 

Nat giggled, throwing her arms over her shoulders as she examined the crop top and skirt co-ord she was wearing.

‘Will there be some fucky for Bucky tonight?’ the red haired giggled at her own joke.

‘I am not drunk enough to answer that,’ she retorted before she pulled the two girls out of the room when she heard Steve shouting at them to hurry up. Their Uber was waiting outside for them, Nat was asking the driver to turn up the radio because she ‘loved this song’. Steve rolled his eyes at her as he took a swig from the beer he had smuggled into the car. 

‘You rebel,’ Y/N hissed in his ear, as he poured some of the bitter liquid into her mouth.

They shouted their thanks as they got out of the cab, all of them fumbling to give the driver their money. Okay, maybe they were a bit drunker than they had originally thought. Y/N immediately fell into Bucky’s side, who steadied her as they walked into the frat house. Sam was immediately bro hugging people and Steve was dragging Peggy to the beer pong table. She laughed out as Nat meet some of the girls she knew from dance. Leaving Y/N with Bucky, she intertwined their fingers and joined Peggy and Steve at the now empty beer pong table. 

‘Me and Buckaroo here against The Queen and Golden Boy,’ she shouted as she helped Steve line up the cups. ‘And we both know you are going down.’

‘You better have the skills before you run your mouth, baby girl,’ Steve teased, grabbing a ping pong ball.

She didn’t know how long they were playing but the end of it she was more than a little tipsy and she had lost miserably to Steve. Peggy and Steve made a really good team, while she had terrible hand-eye co-ordination. Bucky was really doing all the work on their side. It didn’t stop her drinking almost all the cups. She leaned her head on Bucky as she congratulated the other team. Her eyes widened as Beyonce started playing over the speakers, grabbing Bucky’s hand and dragging him onto the dance floor. Her fingers were in her hair as she grinded her ass into Bucky’s crotch as Beyonce and Nicki Minaj sang about feeling themselves. She felt his hot hands on hips as he pulled her closer to him, his lips brushing over her neck.

She whimpered softly, before jumping away from him, he let out a groan at the lose of her body against him. 

‘We are doing shots!’ she screamed, pulling him back towards the drinks table, where Sam was standing chatting up a tiny blonde girl. 

‘SAM AND SAM’S FRIEND WE ARE DOING SHOTS!’ she screamed.

The blonde girl, bit her lip, eyeing Sam up and down, ‘Why don’t we do body shots?’

The suggestion was a bad, bad idea. But Y/N was too drunk to think anything of it. She clapped her hands together, ‘Fuck yes. I like you! Let’s give the boys here a show first.’

She winked teasingly at the girl, pouring a shot and shoving it into her cleavage, thankfully it stayed there. She poured a tiny bit of salt on her boob which was spilling out the top of her crop top. The blonde girl winked at Sam before licking the salt up, she even managed to pull the shot glass out with her hand behind her back. Y/N popped the lime slice in her mouth which the petite woman eagerly took, eyes locked on Sam. 

‘Okay, lemme try that,’ he said, as Bucky was pulling the zipper of Y/N’s skirt down. She slapped his hands away.

‘What the fuck?’ she asked, eyes wide. 

He shook the bottle of tequila, ‘Belly button?’

She laughed as she collapsed into a nearby chair, laying as flat as she could so he could pour the cold liquid into her belly button. She shivered at the feel of his tongue on her skin. 

‘No salt or lime?’ she asked, when he smirked up at her.

‘Naw, am hardcore,’ he slurred. 

She laughed at him before jumping up, Sam was making out with the blonde girl now. Leaving the body shots to just her and Bucky. She licked his neck, noting how his skin immediately goosebumped and his hands gripped her waist. She poured another shot, pushed the lime slice into Bucky’s mouth and poured the salt onto his neck. His grip tightened immediately as she licked up the salt, she threw the shot back before going to take the lime from his mouth. He spat it out before she could, her lips colliding with his, tongues fighting for dominance. 

Her back was crashing against the nearest wall as Bucky’s hand gripped her hair, making her weak at the knees. 

‘Upstairs, upstairs,’ she gasped as she pushed him away. Her lipstick was smeared around her lips, her hair was a mess and she wanted him so desperately. He pulled her through the party, ignoring the daggers Steve was throwing him when he noticed them heading up the stairs. As soon as they found an empty bedroom, Bucky’s lips were on hers again. She was unbuttoning his shirt as he unzipped her top. Clothes were going flying, until he was in his boxers and socks and she was wearing her lace panties and heels.

‘Were you planning on getting lucky tonight?’ he asked, eyes on her overtly sexy underwear, as he pushed her down on the bed, giving her the chance to kick her shoes off. He was kissing down her neck, leaving angry marks along her breasts, as he licked and nipped and pulled at the sensitive flesh with his teeth. She was already a moaning mess when his tongue met her peaked nipple, he knew exactly how to make her come undone beneath him. And that’s all he wanted, he was trailing kissing down her body, pulling her panties off with his teeth. She lifted her hips and let him see her completely naked. She shivered, but it wasn’t the cold, it was the way he was looking at her. He took a step back pulling his socks off before kissing her inner thighs. 

‘No, Bucky, fuck I just need you inside me,’ she groaned pulling him up and over her body.

Her fingers were now pushing his boxers off and he was groaning as her fingers wrapped around his erection.

‘Shit, fuck,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t have a condom.’

She pulled him in for a kiss, ‘I’m on the pill and I’m clean.’

Because the only person I’ve slept with is you, she thought, biting her lip. 

He nodded, as he rubbed the tip of his cock over her folds, focusing on her clit as she squirmed under him. He eagerly shoved inside her, knowing he wasn’t going to last long because of the alcohol. And she was already wrecked as her nails dragged down his back, as his sloppily thrust in and out of her. Since the night she had ended things and they had agreed that they should be friends with benefits and then never stopped, there was no love making. It was brutal fucking, sure Bucky went down on her, he loved going down on her. But there was no languid, thrusting as they whispered about how much they loved each other. They were both chasing their release, both chasing the intimacy they once shared, both chasing the feeling off the other in their arms.

One of his hands trailed down her body, rubbing over her clit as he fucked her. 

‘Fuck, Bucky, yes there,’ she moaned, as she felt her orgasm coming. She bit down on her lip, screwing her eyes up but couldn’t help the pornographic moan that escaped her lips when she reached her peak. Bucky wasn’t far behind, spilling inside her with a moan of her name. They lay there for a moment, breathing heavy when he rolled off her. She always found that orgasms were the best way to sober up. Her heart ached as she watched him, maybe she should tell him that she wanted him to be more than this. More than a quick fuck when they were both drunk. But then she remembered seeing him in his bedroom with that other woman and she couldn’t.

She wasn’t going to let James Barnes break her heart again. She shuffled off the bed and quickly redressed, giving up for her searching for her panties in the clutter.

‘I’ll see ya back down there,’ she said, before heading out the door.

Bucky let out a groan, what was he doing. She was the girl of his dreams and he was using her for sex. He knew she could never trust him again, but he didn’t technically cheat on her. She had said they should go on a break - how very Ross and Rachel of them. He dressed sullenly, looking at his phone, which had twenty new messages from Wanda. He rolled his eyes, he didn’t even like the girl. He had asked for her number after Sharon told him that Y/N was on a date with a guy from her class. And now she wouldn’t stop texting him. He hadn’t even slept with her, they met up a few times and sexted when he was horny and Y/N wasn’t around.

God he was such a fucking idiot. He huffed for a bit longer until the door was pushed open, he looked up eagerly to see if it was Y/N come back for him. But unfortunately, it was Peter Quill and a sorority girl. Quill stopped when he saw Bucky.

‘Ah man, you did not fuck someone in my fuckin’ bedroom,’ he groaned. 

‘Just warming the bed up for you,’ he teased, as he shoved Y/N’s panties into his pocket. 

He headed downstairs, searching for her in the crowd. His heart dropped when she saw her chatting to a tall man with black hair. He had his hand on her hip and was whispering into her ear, his back to him. This must be the guy she was seeing from her class. It was time for him to go home, he decided, not telling anyone he left the party. He had fucked everything up, he could never get her back, he didn’t deserve her.

TAG LIST OPEN

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@wisestydia-15,@australianhorrorstory, @learisa  @moonraeblack, @stressedasalways

[ankelspanker]

redemption

Luna Valente is a 22 years old intern in Aleman Hospital. She's living the life of an ordinary girl. Working, dating, hanging out with friends, and is known for her perseverance, hard work and cheerfulness. But behind this smile, there's the past. The past that she can’t forget, the past that can't let her go, the past that is now ready to return into her life.

here’s wattpad if you like to read there more 🍓🌙

chapter one

“But for real, I'm telling you, being a teacher is a hard work. Sure when you teach in elementary school you can somehow deal with the children, but when it comes to students...Jesus. But what were you saying? You’re a doctor, right? It must be hard! But on the other hand, that’s the profession.”

Luna’s fork with the salad on it was stuck in the air for like five minutes already, while she was looking at the person in front of her. She literally has no idea how he even chews. They have been on this date for hour and a half already (and she’s been counting), and for all this time she was managed to insert only a couple of phrases. It’s impossible, it’s absolutely impossible for a man to talk that much. And only about himself.

“I’m not a doctor yet. Just intern.” Luna smiles a bit. “I’ve just graduated from the academy and now it’s only an internship program.”

“Hey, Luna, I’m sure you will be a great doctor!” He winks at her, keep eating his steak.

“Thanks.”  

Valente takes a sip of water, mentally trying to remember all prayers she knows so the God will save her. This is the worst date she has ever been on in her life. And there have been a lot lately. She’s is literally ready to pay anyone any money in order to get away from this pathetic dinner.

The guy was planning to say something else but heavens must have heard her and her phone started ringing. She quickly takes it from the bag seeing her best friend picture all over the display.

“Yes, Nina.”

“You still on a date?” Her tone sounds quite anxiously.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“I need to tell you something.”

Luna shifts her eyes on her date and then suddenly makes the panic face.

“Oh god, is that your old leg injury again?! That’s just terrible! Don’t worry, I’m coming!”

“Wha...”

Though she doesn't hear Nina's next words, declining the phone call.

“Lucas, I’m so sorry but I have to go now!” Luna's fakes her sad voice as she getting up from the chair.“It was my friend. Her old injury is getting worse and I’m the only one who can help her! But I’ll call you later, okay? Toodles!”

Without even hearing his answer, Valente leaves the restaurant with all speed possible, going back to her car which is parked near the building. She quickly gets in and only then she exhales loudly. Of course she understands that this action won’t make her an angel but this was honestly too much.

After giving herself a couple of minutes, Luna starts the car, heading to the direction of her best friend’s apartment. For the last year, her personal life was like the Titanic wreck where, like one after another, her dreams for a happy future are drowning. Although there is a worthy explanation for this — she’s 22 years old and at this age she has to go clubbing and mix all alcoholic beverages she’s able to find there, but instead Luna’s working 13 hours a day and she barely has time to have a couple of drinks with her friends in a bar downstairs her apartment building. She did know that such profession as a doctor isn’t easy, but she obviously didn’t think that everything would start right from the internship.

About twenty minutes later, Luna is already at Nina's door. She knocks only a couple of times before her friend opens the door with her face being extra stressful and worried.

“You literally just saved me with your call!” Valente says as she walks inside, taking her heals off. “I’m telling you, this guy would make the dead one rise from his grave just to shut him up.”

Brunette smiles at her own joke, making herself comfortable on the big couch, though her friend’s face still looks pale and probably even more stressful that it was before. And suddenly, nothing is actually funny anymore.

“Okay, Nina, you scare me” Valente’s voice becomes a little bit nervous as she carefully looks at the girl in front of her. “Is something really happened?”

She said nothing, dropping her gaze at her fingers and beginning to touch them nervously.

“Nina, please say it already.”

Simonetti takes her glasses off and lifts her head up to look into her friend’s eyes.

“Luna, just please, don’t freak out, but…” She takes a deep breath. “Matteo is in town. He’s back.”

🌙🍓

“If Mark really calls this garbage “an apartment”, then I rest my case.” A guy named Gaston Perida throws his almost empty Abercrombie & Fitch bag on the couch and turns around to look at the whole place again. “I’m telling you, as soon as we get the money, we will rent a better flat.”

His friend with dark and a little bit curly hair nods as he opens the balcony door and enters outside to take another look at the city. He’s agree with his friend – this place stinks. Although, currently it’s not his biggest problem. He lived his whole life here and then he just packed his bags and left. Not because he wanted to – because he had to. And there was too much to left behind. Too much, he didn’t have enough courage to explain or at least say a proper goodbye to everyone he loved here. To her. He was actually sure that never in his life he would have to come back here. Every corner in Buenos Aires keeps 20-year-old memories of him and his life, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to face them. Not like that and definitely not doing what he’s doing now.

“Bro, are you okay there?” His friend’s voice makes him come back to reality and he exhales loudly before leaving the balcony, closing the door behind him.

“This area of Baires doesn’t have better apartments, believe me.” Matteo smiles a bit as he sits on the couch.

“You from here?”

“Not specifically this district but close. I told you I grew up in orphanage and it was located in the same ugly shit as this place. So, looks pretty familiar for me.”

Gaston nods, keeps looking at his friend. “So what if you meet her? You sure you’re ready?”

“Even if I’m not, what can I do?” Balsanoshrugs. “We have a job here and we need to have it done.”

They sit in a silence for a couple of minutes more before Matteo gets up and saying something quick like “I’ll go buy some groceries”, leaves the apartment.

Thank God the nearest supermarket is only a block away and this reduces his chances of meeting someone he knows.

He walks into Disco taking the trolley with him. The apartment is new and totally empty so they need plenty of stuff. Plus, more guys are coming tomorrow and its gonna be six of them and not just two. Matteo stops near the bread shelves, taking several toast packs, and just when he was ready to move forward, he heard a familiar voice behind his back.

“Matteo?!”

He freezes and then slowly turns around. Nina Simonetti in the flesh and blood is standing right in front of him with her mouth opened in surprise.

“Matteo?!” She repeats his name as she doesn’t believe her own eyes. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?!”

“None of your concern.” The guy simply shifts his shoulders trying to stay calm. Though the storm of worry was growing inside him. If Nina knows, everyone else might know soon as well. Especially the ones who don’t really need to.

“Why in hell are you in Baires? You left! Why did you come back? Is it because of Luna?”

The sound of her name hurts a little bit.

“Jesus Christ, Nina!” Balsano rolls his eyes. “It has nothing to do with Luna. Will you give it a rest already? I just have some business to do.”

“Some business to do.” She mocks him. “Don’t you even think about going to her.”

Matteo exhales deeply, remembering what a pain in the ass this girl was when he was living here.

“For the last time, I’m not here because of Luna. And I will be very grateful to you if you don’t tell her that you saw me, okay?”

“With all the pleasure in the world.” Nina looks at him with the most disgusting facial expression she has ever been able to make as she turns around and leaves, dropping her food on the nearest shelf.

Buenos Aires is a big city. The chance of accidentally meeting someone familiar here is very and very small. However, it seems today fortune was not on Balsano’s side and an hour after his return to his hometown, he immediately met someone. And not just anyone, but Nina fucking Simonetti. Donald Trump himself talks less shit than this girl, and probably, even if they cut off her tongue, she will find a way to speak. So, despite the fact that he asked her to be quiet about this situation, he literally 100% sure that soon everyone he knows from here will be aware of his homecoming. Including Luna. And the last thing Matteo wants to see again is the eyes of his ex-wife.

🌙🍓

Luna takes another sip of the water from the glass in her hands and keeps staring at the wall right in front of her. This is just impossible. That can’t be. He was gone. He left everything and just disappeared, and now he has literally no rights to be back out of nowhere. And she was hella scared to even go outside now. What if she meets him? What will she say to him? What will do? Matteo Balsano isn’t just someone. He’s everything. Her first boyfriend, first love, first sex. For God’s sake, he’s her ex fucking husband. Yes, at the age of 22 she already has ex-husband. They were too young, too stupid, too reckless and too in love. They got married as soon as she turned 18, against her parents’ wish, and she hasn’t talked to them since. Luna’s parents are extremely wealthy people and she actually comes from the very rich society. So, of course, none of her family who’s used to luxury and success would ever accept her love for an orphan from poor and wrong sides of the tracks. Her father didn’t call him anything except low life scum and forbade him to even breathe near Luna’s presence. Though all of this meant nothing to her. She loved. She loved so deeply that it was impossible to even explain, so of course when Matteo suggested her to marry him and leave everything behind, she agreed without any hesitation. Even when two years later after their marriage Matteo just left, only leaving signed divorce papers behind him, she didn’t come back to her parents. Not like they wanted her to, but she was already so used to being independent that returning there was equivalent for her to locking herself in a cage again. It was almost a year since she stopped living her life thinking about him every day. She moved to another apartment, found a job, started dating again. Luna tightly closed that chapter of her life story she wasn’t going to go back there.

“I met him when I went grocery shopping in Disco. I really didn’t want tell you at first, but then I thought you should know because what if he decides to contact you.” Nina says, taking her friend out of her thoughts.

“What if he doesn’t decide?” Valente whispers, finally shifting her gaze from the wall to Nina. “What if he has other goals here and he absolutely isn’t going to contact me? And then I just wouldn’t know that he is here and it wouldn’t turn my life upside down again.”

“Why does it even have to turn your life upside down? He left! He has nothing to do with your life now!”

Luna angrily gets up from the couch and quickly moves towards the door. “I need to be alone.”

“Jesus, Luna, why so much drama because of him?”

“He was my husband, Nina.” Valente puts her Zara heals on and gives her friend another not so happy look.

“Yeah, the key word is was. In case you forgot, you got divorced almost three years ago!” Nina follows her friend. “Yes, he left you without saying a word but this the past.”

“I have to go.” Luna shuts the door behind her and quickly goes upstairs. Her hearts beats like crazy and she’s trying all her best not to faint right here.

She only manages to control her breath when she’s sitting in her car, stressfully trying to find her phone. There’s only one person she can call now. Only one person who will understand her. Because he also was left like her almost three years ago without any information. And he’s the only person who knows Matteo as good as her, if not better.

As she finds his name in her contacts list, Luna clicks his phone number and there are about three-four beeps before she hears his voice from the speakers.

“Luna? Hey! Haven’t heard you for a long time! What’s up?”

“Simon, he’s here. He’s back.”

And this is the moment when it finally and completely hits her, and she just can’t hold her tears anymore.

[ezilyamuzed]

Everyone Needs a Sam : Chapter 2

Summary: Two Sam’s in the Winchester family is better than one. 

Warnings: Language. A little fluff and angst. 

A/N: So this Sam is crazy and decided to keep going with this. It’s going to be interesting as I figure this all out with you! P.S. I have been slowly falling down the Sam rabbit hole...

As always comments and feedback are welcomed (GIVE ME LOVE). Any errors are completely my own because I am human. If anyone would like a Tag in future chapters or all writings send me an ASK! Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

*Gifs not mine*

A month had come and gone since that night in Albany and to be honest you still had no clue what exactly had happened. The rest of that hunt had gone pretty easily, finding the rugaru munching on long-pig in an abandoned warehouse, the most obvious place. Sam was the one to take it down with the blowtorch, while Dean and I distracted it. Another case had come up shortly after, but it was a simple salt ‘n burn haunting. It had become eerily quiet with no scent of any possible cases where you had actually decided to officially move into the bunker, making a room of your very own. Both Sam and Dean had been insisting for well over a month even before that night to actually make yourself at home. You would always tell them that you would when it was quiet, and now it finally was, your excuse ending.

Dean had not talked to you about that night and you sure as hell were not going to bring it up. Why mess things up over something that probably meant nothing? You would carefully watch him over the weeks to see if anything had changed in him towards you, but everything pretty much remained the same. You would still have your binge fests, but he would often stay quiet instead of adding his usual commentary to the screen. Actually, unless Sam was around he didn’t really say anything that wasn’t for a reason, asking what you wanted to watch or if you were feeling alright after eating that bad taco from the food truck. There wasn’t the usual bantering back and forth and you actually kind of missed it. 

You found yourself hanging around Sam a little more often than you had even beyond the lore books. He was a complete nerd like you, finding enjoyment in George Lucas marathons when he wasn’t rummaging through the news for anything suspect. Dean had even caught you braiding Sam’s hair out of boredom one night. It was so soft to play with and easily managed that you huffed how jealous you were. 

“Wow Sam,” Dean smiled. “You sure are looking sexy there.”

You knew he was just teasing his brother, Sam throwing up his middle finger in return, but the comment made your cheeks turn rosy. You had tried to hide your face from Dean, but he noticed while giving a wink. It was the little things like that that had you on edge about that kiss. What if it might have meant something? 

On a boring Friday night that not even Dr. Sexy reruns could entertain, you found yourself driving to the nearest bar. There was energy built up that needed to get out, and you knew the easiest way. While wearing your low-cut dark jeans, a bare mid-drift laced crop top, and heels you waltzed in with a swing in your hips. As you lowered yourself to the bar stool right in the center of the crowd, it had not taken long for a potential workout partner to introduce themselves. He had introduced himself, but honestly, you could have cared less. He was decently attractive and looked ready to go. As he talked you would let your tongue linger a little longer around the beer bottle while you took small sips while also finding opportune moments to casually let your hand flow down him softly. The lust was growing strong in his eyes, but he was too scared to speak the words you wanted to hear. You impatience shifting thinly, you bit your lower lip while moving in closer to his face.

“So what do you say we…”

“Hey little sister, there you are!” the deep voice that was all Dean exclaimed from behind you. 

“Son of a bitch,” you huffed quietly. 

You turned your face to him and gave him a tight-lipped smile while wishing you could smite him with your mind. “I’m kind of busy here…bro,” you growled. He walked up to place himself directly next to the man you were hoping to use and lose for the night with a large smile on his face. He stretched out his hand towards now a clearly frightened man as a tall wall of muscles came closer to him.

“Hi, I’m Sam’s big brother Dean.”

The man reluctantly shook his hand while stating his name. You could see Dean tightening his grasp in the handshake, the other guy's eyes growing darker now in fear. Dean smiled as he let go and looked over to you. 

“Sam, I’ve been trying to find you all night. Bobby-John got released from the pen today and he was looking for you.”

“Bobby-John?” the man asked.

As you opened your mouth to speak Dean was already answering for you. 

“Sam’s ex, or well boyfriend. Yeah he went upstate for a little while on attempted murder charges but they couldn’t find the evidence to prove him guilty,” he smiled widely.

The mans pupils widened in fear as he started to shift in his seat, looking for any indication in Dean’s face that he was kidding. Dean staying easily straight faced. 

“Well I am going to go,” the man said while quickly getting up from his seat. “No, really…” you started to protest, but he held up his hands to stop you. “No, really I am going. Busy day tomorrow and it seems like you have catching up to do of your own,” he said while almost falling over himself as he hightailed out of the bar.

“You son of a bitch,” you taking your time to annunciate each syllable slowly while you gritted your teeth. 

He laughed as he sat down next to you, waving for the bartender’s attention. 

“Seriously Dean? The Bobby-John story?”

“Works every time,” he nodding his head in satisfaction as the sly smile remained on his lips.

“I am getting really tired of this Dean,” you sneered as you went to stand up to leave. Dean grabbed you by the wrist tightly stopping you in your tracks.

“Where do you think you are going?” 

“Somewhere you aren’t,” you said while twisting your wrist loose from his grip. He tried to grab you again, but you pulled away too quickly and stormed off out the doors to the car you had commissioned from the bunker. As soon as you reached the end of the parking lot where it stood you screamed in frustration while also kicking the fender with the adrenaline pumping through you. 

“Sam?” 

You quickly turned your head to see Sam standing there alone with concern lingering on his face. You took in a deep breath before asking him what he was doing there.

“I’m here with Dean,” he said while pointing with his thumb back towards the bar. “I was just on the phone with Jody. Sam, what is going on?”

“Dean butting his nose where it doesn’t belong again,” you grumbled while not wanting to take any of your anger out on the youngest Winchester. 

He nodded his head slowly while scrunching in his eyebrows so much that the lines on his forehead stood apparent. His signature puppy dog look. The damn look that made you want to reveal your deepest emotions to while having him hold you close. He walked closer to you as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut while shaking your head.

“I don’t think I can do this forever Sam,” you whispered while his arms wrapped around you, pulling your head into his chest. 

“You want me to drive us back,” he asked while still in the embrace.

You slowly nodded in reply that he could feel against him. He grabbed your hand and walked you to the passenger door of the car, opening it for you to scoot yourself in. He slowly walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side, pulling out his phone to send a quick text to his brother. You laid your head on the top of your hand while leaning up against the open window. The wind tickling your face as he drove. When you arrived back at the bunker you immediately went for the little bar set up in the War room, pouring yourself the sweet amber liquid that would be your companion for the night. After shooting it back quickly, you refilled your glass while noticing Sam leaning in the doorway watching you. “You want to talk about it?” he asked with concern.

“Nope,” you stated abruptly, downing the contents of your glass again. While grabbing what remained of the amber liquid, you took it to your room and sat down on your bed. At this point, you stopped even trying to use a glass and opted right from the neck of the decanter. Gulp after gulp you started thinking about everything that irked you about how Dean had treated you over the last months. 

“Let the big boys handle this. Go ahead, flash him some cleavage so he’ll talk. That guy is no good for you. You are such a good girl,” you ranted aloud with sarcasm elongated in each word.

Apparently, you had been a little loud, because Sam was now in your doorway, crossing his arms with a grin on his face. You glared at his amusement and mockingly crossed your arms as well. 

“And you, Mister gorgeous hair and puppy dog eyes,” you slurred. “Don’t think you are so innocent. I know what you are thinking.”

“What am I thinking Sam?” he laughed.

“I’m just a little girl that needs to be protected,” you said while moving unsteadily to him and poking your finger into his hard chest. “Well I am not a little girl, I am a woman dammit. You both need to realize that I can do fine without you and your gorgeous faces.”

He laughed and shook his head while flashing his dimples in his cheeks, making you poke him again harder. He grabbed your hand and held it in his. 

“Sam, I think you are drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” you slurred. “You’re the Sam that’s drunk.”

”Come on,” he said while moving you back towards your bed. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You bowed your head down in defeat as you sat down on the soft mattress, Sam sitting next to you while rubbing your back. Your mind shifted from the anger inside of you to the dreaded thoughts that had so often plagued you. 

“I can’t do this forever Sam,” you whispered as you laid your head down on his shoulder. 

“Do what?”

“Pretend,” you softly replied. Sam stayed silent, letting your head rest next to his while continuing his movements on your back to let you know you were safe with him. 

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“For what?”

“For being my Sam.”

Tags: @snffbeebee @curly-haired-disaster

Keep Reading Chapter 3 Here

[bittyreaders]

Timid Reader & Underswap Bros Part II (Re-Write)

Mr. Blue was back. Again.

You glared at him from the safety of the top floor of the Yellow House, nose pressed against the windowsill, only your eyes and the top of your head visible. The skeleton was talking to Rivet, who was sitting at her desk trying to get through some paperwork. He was waving his arms around, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed, but wasn’t yelling - you couldn’t hear what he was saying from here.

And here was where you would stay until he was gone. The skeleton had been coming in every afternoon for the past week, desperately trying to talk to you. Rivet and Sweets had distracted him, reminding him that the Pen was off-limits (last Saturday had been a one-time thing). His amazingly-tall brother had come in the first day as well, slouched in an orange hoodie and looking ready to take a nap standing up. Despite the heavy lids, his eyes had been sharp enough to pick out your nose pressed against the glass of the Yellow House window, and after registering your intense glare he’d had the good grace to look away in discomfort.

You’d found being angry was easier than being afraid. When you were afraid, your emotions were out of your control - worry and despair cutting off any chance of rational thought as adrenaline took over, demanding immediate flight from whatever the threat was. Anger let you be in control - if you were angry at the threat, then you didn’t have room to be afraid. So, from a distance, you drew up as much anger as your little body possessed, and aimed it squarely at Mr. Blue and his brother.

The brother - Sweets called him Stretch once, was that his name? It was as good as any other - didn’t come back again, and you congratulated yourself on having such a fearsome glare. Mr. Blue returned every afternoon, however, alone now and with an apologetic slump to his shoulders each time. Beneath the weak shoulders, however, was a burning determination to write his wrong. He was nearly desperate to apologize to you in person - if you hadn’t been petrified at the thought of being within five feet of him, you’d have admired his tenacity.

Today he had something clutched in his hand and was gesturing wildly with it as he spoke. Rivet and Sweets both looked interested, nodding along with what he was saying up until the thing slipped from his grip and smacked the deer in the face. Her nose wrinkled and her ears folded back against her head in displeasure, but she picked up the item and examined it, ignoring what looked like Mr. Blue’s babbled apologies. She interrupted him to ask something, and he immediately brightened up and leaned closer, talking faster and with more gesticulating than before. After a moment, Rivet nodded and gave the black square to Sweets, who gave a jaunty salute and began hauling it off the desk. The deer laughed and gave her a lift down, placing her on the floor and out of your line of sight.

You ducked away from the window as both Rivet and Mr. Blue looked over at the Pen, feeling too tired to bring up the energy to glare. Being angry took more energy than being scared - when you were scared, it happened naturally, a flood of adrenaline fueling your fight-or-flight response. But when you were angry, you had to choose to be angry, choose to expend your energy on being upset, choose to glare and huff and sneer and throw angry words around. It was exhausting.

Knowing that Sweets would be along soon with the mysterious black square, you sat on your edge of the doll bed and picked at the corner of the quilt that covered it. It was quiet and safe in your little room, and you took a few deep breaths to center yourself. Sweets had suggested using meditation when you were upset, but it didn’t do much good when you couldn’t ‘center’ yourself in the first place.

In no time Sweets was there, dragging the black thing behind her, face flushed and sweaty. “Delivery!” She called out in a cheerful voice, despite her rosy cheeks. “Straight from Mr. Blue to you!” With one last heft, she dragged it into the room and let it drop to the carpeted floor. You craned your neck and peered down at the thin, black rectangle of plastic and glass.

It was a phone - one of those smartphones that had a touch screen and no keyboard, with the power and volume buttons on the side. It was nearly as tall as Sweets, making it all the more impressive that she had managed to lug it all this way. When she dropped it the screen blinked to life, revealing a picture of a meadow with a tree, and a clock reading “6:50” over a line of text saying ‘Slide up to unlock.’

“A...phone?” You stood and bent over the device, noting that there was no battery or signal indicator. A monster phone, then - one that didn’t need to be charged and that ran on magic.

“Yep!” Sweets put her hands on her hips and blew some sweaty hair out of her face. “Blue got it for you.”

“...Why?” You tried to wrap your head around the idea. Having regained her breath, Sweets shifted the phone, carefully propping it up on the wall next to the window. She unlocked it with a sweep of her hand, revealing the home screen. There were a few small squares with different names - ‘Contacts,’ ‘Undernet,’ ‘Camera,’ ‘Face-Snap,’ and two folders. One was labeled ‘Pictures’ and the other ‘Games.’

“He said,” Sweets huffed, adjusting the screen so it was only slightly tilted, “it was to better apologize to you.” The camera, which was in the middle of the top of the phone, lit up when she pressed the little blue button with a white camera outline on it. The screen went black, but a quick press of a button that had the same camera picture with a turning arrow under it revealed the inside of the room, creating a perfect mirror of the bed, Sweets, and you. Grinning, Sweets pressed the screen again, and with a flash the picture was burned into the phones memory.

“I don’t want him to apologize,” you huffed, wrinkling your face at the bright light, “I want him to go away.”

“He’s not going to go away until he apologizes. He’s very determined.” There was weight behind that word, the way she said it, though neither of you knew why. “Just let him say sorry over the phone.” She peeked out the window and flashed someone a thumbs up. A moment later the phone let out a loud jingle, and the mirror image of the room was replaced with the symbol for the Face-Snap app (half camera-motif, half smiley-face). INCOMING FACE-SNAP FROM BLUE SERIF, the screen announced, and without waiting Sweets smashed her hand against the green ‘accept’ icon.

The screen went blue for a moment, before it was adjust to reveal Mr. Blue’s smiling visage as the phone was drawn back to a proper distance. Behind him was the inside of the shop part of the shelter - he was sitting on one of the couches by the Reader changing rooms. The shelter was a non-profit (as Rivet’s terrible ramen habit would attest), but there were several monsters in the community who made clothing and furniture that was Reader-sized and sold it through the shelter. There were shelves of clothing, tools, furniture, vitamins, and toiletries, all fit for their tiny bodies. After some Monsters complained about having to stand while their picky Readers took hours picking what they wanted, the deer had invested in a pair of comfy couches for Monsters to use. Mr. Blue was sitting cross-legged on one of these, and as you watched he turned so he was sitting sideways on the couch and perched the phone on the top of the nearest shelf, bringing him to ‘eye-level’ with you and Sweets.

“Hello!” He greeted cheerily, sitting back and dropping his hands into his lap. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his blue irises were shaped like soft, rounded stars.

“Hi Mr. Blue!” Sweets waved cheerily, dropping to sit beside you on the bed. “The phone works perfectly!”

“That’s good!” Mr. Blue bounced a bit where he sat, the stars growing even brighter. “I was worried the touch screen wouldn’t react to your fingers!”

“Well, I had to use my whole hand, but it works. That’s what’s important!” The two shared large grins, before Mr. Blue’s attention shifted to you. His expression softened to one that could only be explained as ‘hangdog.’

“Hello,” he greeted again, his voice much softer, and you realized something that nearly took your breath away. You were facing - interacting! - with a monster, a giant being of magic and unfathomable strength, and you weren’t afraid. You were nervous, sure, but you were always nervous when meeting new people. Even other Readers made you nervous when they wanted to engage in small talk! Nervous - not terrified, not panicked, not crying and blacking out and suffocating on your own innumerous fears. Butterflies in the stomach. Worry over saying something embarrassing. Normal nerves.

Without thinking you leaned to the side, trying to peek out the window and see if you could spot the monster on the couch, but Sweets wrapped an arm around your shoulder and tugged you back, forcing you to focus on the screen. Mr. Blue sat patiently, still smiling at you both, stars dancing in his eyes. Swallowing your absolutely-normal social nerves, you nodded to him and let out a quiet “Hi.”

His visage immediately brightened, skull lighting up in delight. “Hello!” He said again, with more enthusiasm, smile stretching even further across his face. “I’m Sans Serif, but everybody calls me Blue because there’s a lot of Sans up here and it would be confusing if we all went by Sans and since Sans got up here first - Alpha Sans I mean - he gets to keep his name while the rest of us have nicknames but that’s okay because I like the name Blue. Blue is one of my favorite colors, after all! But my brother likes orange. His name is Papyrus by the way, but everybody calls him Stretch because-”

Sweets cleared her throat, trying to get the rambling skeleton back on track, and had to do it a few times to get him to calm down. He trailed off, and a brilliant blue blush covered his cheeks.

“Oops, I guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

Sweets gave him a patient smile and squeezed your shoulder, her arm still around you. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to say?” She coaxed.

“Oh, right!” Mr. Blue went from beaming to ashamed in barely a second. “Um, oh shoot, I don’t know you name…”

“I don’t have one,” you answered, used to the question from other Readers. Names were given by owners, and you didn’t have an owner. Rivet sometimes named the Readers that stuck around for a long time, but you hadn’t been given one, despite living in the shelter for three months.

Mr. Blue gave you an odd look, but steamrolled ahead. “Oh-kay, well, little green Reader, I wanted to apologize.” He moved so he was sitting on his knees, looking solemnly at the camera. “I’m very, very sorry for scaring you last week! I should have known better to approach you, and I definitely should have read the sweater pamphlet more thoroughly instead of charging in like a - like a bonehead.” He grimaced at the pun and Sweets smirked (you had no doubt she had helped him script part of this apology, and had thrown that phrase in as punishment). “I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe, and I promise to never come near you if you don’t want me to again.”

Sincerity shone in every line of his face, and after a moment’s thought you found yourself nodding, accepting his soul-felt words. “Okay,” you muttered, voice quiet.

Sparkles of magic appeared around Mr. Blue’s face, and the stars in his eyes grew bigger than before. “Really?” You nodded, and he began swaying in his seat, looking like he wanted to jump up and down. “Oh wowie, I’m so glad, I was worried you would hate me forever! I’m so happy!”

You gave Sweets a questioning look, but she just shrugged and looked equally pleased. “I told you, Blue, they’re too nice to hate anybody!” She tugged on your sleeve. “After all, the root of green is kindness!”

“Mweh-heh-heh! You’re right! And now we can talk every day!”

You stiffened, and having her arm around you, Sweets notice. “Maybe not every day, Blue. But what if you called a few times a week? I’m sure they’d love to chat with you every once in a while.” The pink Reader ignored your questioning look. “After all, you must have plenty of amazing stories, being the vice captain of the Swap Royal Guard!”

“That I do! Plenty of amazing, daring, heroic stories of heroism and strength!” Blue stood on the couch, putting one fist to his chest, the other on his hip, and loudly laughed - you could hear it not just from the phone, but through the walls of the doll house. The phone’s camera was wide enough that it caught Rivet appearing behind the bouncy skeleton, grimacing at the sight of dirty boots on her upholstery and the disruptive noise he was making. Sweets made a quiet, delighted little ‘oh no!’ sound beside you - she was always one for drama.

“Mr. Blue,” Rivet crossed her arms and glared at the skeleton, “While I am very pleased you have made friends with one of my Readers, I am going to ask you to remove your boots from my couch.”

The skeleton blushed once more, in embarrassment this time, and quickly dropped to sit on the couch, boots dangling over the edge. “Sorry, Miss Rivet,” he shot a rueful look to the phone, the pliable bone above his nose-hole wrinkling when he saw Sweets giggling at him. “I just got excited.”

“Well, you need to get excited elsewhere for now. It’s six, and I need to close up and get everybody their dinner. It’s pizza night - you don’t want to see what will happen when fifty-six Reader’s are delayed getting their pizza.” The deer’s expression softened and she winked at the skeleton.

“I would not want to stand in the way of pizza, even if tacos are the superior food!” Blue beamed at her, then turned back to the phone. “I will talk to you both soon!”

“How about Thursday?” Sweets suggested, while beside her you mouthed ‘again?’ to yourself.

“Thursday it is!” Blue beamed. “I will see you both then!” He waved, and Sweets gave a little wave back. You copied her, though still confused. The skeleton reached up for his phone, filling the screen with blue once again, and cut the call. Sweets kept her arm around you until the bell above the door jingled, followed by the sound of the lock turning.

“Well, that went better than expected!” The compassionate Reader finally released you and flopped back on the bed with a huff.

“Doesn’t he need his phone back?” You asked, standing and poking at the now-black screen. The date and time popped up, ‘6:01’ beaming back at you, and a feeling of amazement took the place of confusion. You’d had a ten-minute conversation! With a monster!

“Nah, it’s one of his old phones, he said.” Sweets had sat back up and was watching you, beaming. “He brought it for you.”

“...me?”

“You!” She giggled and threw her arms around you. “I’m so proud of you for talking to him!”

Blushing, you reached up and hugged one of her arms to yourself. “I only said, like, two words.”

“Which is two more than you’ve said before!” She squeezed, then released you and jumped to her feet. “Blue is going to call every other day now, and you can talk to him as much or as little as you want. It’s called exposure therapy.”

“...he’s going to be naked?”

Sweets let out a delighted laugh, and you realized it was the first time you’d made a joke around her.

“No!” She pulled you up, off the bed, and led you from your room. “Unless you’re into that…” You blushed, going as pink as her sweater, and she laughed again and led you down the stairs. “Honey, I think we just figured out how to help you get over your fears! Now c’mon, it’s pizza night!”

She led you from the Yellow House, towards the Readers gathered and waiting for their favorite dinner of the week, and for once didn’t mind becoming part of the group. You were too busy thinking of starry eyes and patient smiles to worry.

Blue called again on Thursday, at seven o’clock exactly. You were laying on your bed, reading a book from the little library. The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin. It was a weird murder-mystery, and you couldn’t figure out if the character Turtle was a human with the nickname Turtle, or an actual turtle-type monster. She could be a Woshua, but you’d never met one with a single pigtail before…

The phone chimed, the Face-Snap app appearing on the formerly black screen, with the line ‘INCOMING FACE-SNAP FROM BLUE SERIF’ flashing beneath it. You jumped, losing your place in the book, and frantically looked around for Sweets. The pink Reader was nowhere to be seen, however - she was likely helping some other Readers with their evening chores, or reading with the book club that met every Tuesday and Thursday evening. This left you alone, with a monster calling on the phone. It was up to you to answer it.

Or I could just let it ring…

You thought of the first time he’d called, how you hadn’t been relaxed but hadn’t been terrified. You’d had social-butterflies in your stomach, but had overall enjoyed the conversation (even if it was mostly him apologizing, despite you not needing one). You thought of how novel it was, to face a monster and hold a conversation, not run away screaming or shut down completely. All you had to do was hit the ‘accept’ button, and that feeling would come back. You probably wouldn’t have to talk much - Blue could converse enough for five monsters…

With decisive movements that made you appear more confident than you felt, you folded down the corner of the page you were on and put your book aside, then stood and approached the phone. Biting down on your fear (on your timidity), you pressed the green button.

Mr. Blue’s face filled the screen, and he beamed, looking beyond pleased that you had answered. “Hello again, green-Reader!” He greeted, leaning back from the screen slightly. You didn’t know where he was, but there was a black flag with a skull-and-crossbones motif on the wall behind him. Home, maybe? Or a skeleton bar? Was that a thing?

You raised your hand and twiddled your fingers in response, the word ‘hello’ getting stuck in your throat. This was a bit more nerve-racking than you thought it would be, without Sweets there to ground you.

Mr. Blue didn’t seem bothered by your silence. He just beamed and twiddled his fingers back. “I’m so glad you picked up, I was worried I’d called at a bad time. I just got home from the Palace! Well, it’s not really a palace, but that’s what we all call it, because that’s where the Kings and Queens and Princes and Princesses all live. It’s funny, all the Asriel’s are boys, but all the Chara’s and Frisk’s are boys or girls or agender, depending on what they want to be. And all the Flowey’s want to be called boys, but technically flowers don’t have genders. I guess what they want is more important though, right?” When you nodded in agreement (you weren’t a boy or a girl, either - you were just you, a timid Reader who was maybe beginning to feel okay with being you), he beamed and kept going.

He told you all about his job as Vice Captain of the Swap Clan Royal Guard, which mostly involved patrolling the Palace and looking cool for photo ops with visitors. He also helped run an Obstacle-Course Club with two friends named Papyrus and Edge. They had commandeered a large part of a local park for their work, and had built various obstacle courses with moving parts, so they could be rearranged to give a new, different challenge each week. They even had a few mini-courses for the local children to play on. Even their lazier brothers (Sans, Stretch, and Red) had chipped in, helping with the construction some and falling asleep in various impossible ways on the multitude of ladders, ropes, ramps, tunnels, rock walls, stone walls, spinning tubes, et. all.

This turned into him telling you all about his brother Stretch. Stretch was long, lanky, and lazy to boot. He was a part-time scientist at the Royal Labs, and when he wasn’t working or goofing off with his friends (the aforementioned Sans and Red) he was at Muffets, drinking honey and flirting with anything that moved. Mr. Blue spoke of him with fondness, laced with exasperation. He moved on to talking about his father, Gaster, who was the Riverperson underground, but now ran a successful cab company with all the other riverpeople from the various Undergrounds. They all lived together in a nice cabin-like house on the edge of town, right next to the woods and near a few of their alternates.

Mr. Blue chatted for nearly an hour about his life, asking you questions and accepting all your nods and non-verbal answers as they came. He never once asked you to talk, or asked why you weren’t talking when he knew you could. He just...rolled with it, carried the entire conversation himself, and was happy to do it.

Around eight o’clock he slowed down, and you heard someone knocking on a door on his side of the phone. “Pappy, I’m talking to my new friend!” He called, turning away from the phone, and you went bright-pink. Friend? He thought of you as a friend? The only friend you had was Sweets, and sometimes you felt more like a patient than a friend with her. A deep, warm feeling grew around your SOUL, leaving you feeling pleased. Blue turned back to the screen, looking disappointed, and you realized you hadn’t heard anything he or his brother had said to each other.

“I’ve got to go, green Reader! We have company over for a movie night, and I must prepare my famous nachos.” He looked disappointed at having to say goodbye, and you mirrored his sad smile. It had been fun, listening to him enthuse over his job and family. “May I call you again, sometime? Maybe - not tomorrow, I have night patrol...Saturday? Can I call you on Saturday so we can talk more?”

You didn’t even have to think before nodding - you wanted this. Wanted to talk to him more, wanted to hear him be so completely over-the-top with his ideas and passions, wanted to learn more about this monster who didn’t make you feel scared when you talked to him over the phone. Talking to him made you feel normal. Less frightened, less wary, more like you had a place in this world. Even if you weren’t talking back yet, just watching and listening to him proved one thing: you could stop being timid. You could change your fate, even if it was only with this one monster.

“Great! I’ll call you on Saturday then!” Blue beamed, stars in his eyes once again. “Goodnight, green Reader!”

“Goodnight, Mr. Blue.”

The stars grew, and a blush colored the bone beneath his eye sockets. With a soft ‘Mweh-heh-heh!’ Mr. Blue closed the connection, leaving you alone in your room once again. You laid back on your bed and thought about everything he had told you - all about his life and family. You didn’t have anything as interesting to talk to him about. He knew all about the shelter - his brother was friends with Miss Rivet, and the deer was warming up to Mr. Blue, too. Your life before the shelter was only a few hours long, and they were not a few hours you wanted to relive. Frowning, you flipped onto your front and picked your book back up.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind that you didn’t have much of a past - after all, you were three months old. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you talked about your books and drawings and people-watching habits. Maybe, being the Magnificent Blue, he would be magnificently patient with you as you taught yourself to talk to him. Maybe, just maybe, his patience was what you needed to emerge from your timid shell.

Speaking of shells, back to the mystery of Turtle. Human or turtle-monster? It was hard to tell...

Mr. Blue called like clockwork, every other day. On weekdays he called at seven, right after you both finished supper. On weekends it varied - sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, most often times in the evenings. You kept an ear out for the tinny ring of the phone, rushing to your room whenever you heard it. Sweets had joined in once or twice, but after seeing you lunge to answer the call after the first ring, she left you to it.

A month into your bi-daily phone calls, he asked if you wanted to have lunch together. “We could have a picnic in the backyard of the shelter,” he’d explained when you gave him a confused look. “Or even inside the shelter, if you want! It’s my Clans turn to do the city sweeps - we change it up every month, that way there’s always guards on the streets, but also in the Palace, just in case, and this way it feels fair, y’know? And I asked for the route that goes by the shelter, so we can try having lunch together!” He blushed a bit, though he looked pleased. “I thought - you’ve been doing so good talking to me over the phone, maybe it won’t be so scary? Now that we’re friends?”

You’d hesitantly accepted, and now here you were, standing on a large red and white checkered picnic blanket in the backyard of the shelter, trying to tamp down your nerves to an acceptable level. Rivet and Sweets had both agreed to the idea wholeheartedly, and the deer had even set up a nice little area for the two of you to meet, away from the large playground and the miniature Reader-sized pool. The scent of blooming spring flowers from the garden beds along the fence was almost overwhelming, but you were thankful for it. The heady sensation kept your mind off your growing not-just-social nerves.

“Hello, green Reader!”

Blue was here, standing by the back door to the shelter, on the other side of the lawn. He had a wicker basket thrown over one arm and was nervously shifting his weight, despite the million-watt smile on his face. You couldn’t help but swallow, hard - he was much, much bigger in person than on the phone. He didn’t make a move to approach, though, staying where he was, swinging the basket a bit.

“Is it alright if I approach?” He asked after a moment, watching you carefully, though for what you didn’t know. Panic attack? Fainting? Booking it out the nearest crack in the wall? You entertained all the options for a moment before forcing yourself to be rational. You had been talking to Blue for a month now, and the two of you were friends. He’d told you all about his family, and his friends, and had even cried with you for a few minutes when he’d stepped on a butterfly and killed it while going for a jog. He was a good monster, and would never, ever hurt you.

Plopping back down on the blanket (not even realizing you’d stood), you nodded. Used to your silence, he beamed and plodded over, carefully setting the basket down before sitting on the other side of the blanket. He was too far away to touch you without having to stretch all the way out, and you smiled at him to show you appreciated the space he was giving you.

“For lunch today I have made the most fabulous, the most wonderful, the most magnificent, meal of all time!” He threw open the top of the basket with a bit more zeal than required, and you knew what was coming next.

“Tacos?”

“Correct, tiny green Reader! Tacos!” With flourish befitting a magician he pulled out a tupperware container stuffed to the brim with both soft and hard-shell tacos, each carefully filled and sprinkled with MTT-Brand edible glitter in a rainbow of colors. You resigned yourself to nibbling off one of his monster-sized tacos for lunch. You didn’t mind much, really - sometimes, when Rivet was sick or something happened that called her away from the shelter, you and the other Readers ate monster-sized food. Shrinking spells were tricky and took a certain flick of the wrist to be successful. There were stories of an elephant-sized teddy bear that some of the older Reader’s whispered about, but Rivet denied.

Blue didn’t pop open the box of tacos, however - instead, he reached back into the basket and pulled out a smaller tupperware, filled with at least three dozen soft-shell tacos, each with a different color of glitter decorating it. “Here you are, tiny green Reader!” He announced, popping off the lid, which he set in front of you. Bright blue magic picked up a few of the tacos and set them on the lid, turning it into a plate. “I could not find a way to make tiny hardshell tacos, so I hope you do not mind soft shell!”

You didn’t really know the difference - most of meals at the shelter consisted of casseroles, pastas, and pizzas. Simple things that could be made in large quantities to feed all the hungry mouths. You’d never eaten tacos before (though you’d had taco casserole, and nachos). Shrugging, you gave a small ‘thank you’ and lifted up one of the yellow-sparkled tacos. On the phone you’d begun talking to him a little bit, but seeing him now, in all his 5’6 glory, made you nervous to speak once again.

It didn’t last. Flavor exploded on your tongue, spiced meat mixing with cool cheese and the sliver of lettuce and tomato that had been slid in, all wrapped within the delicious, flaky tortilla. The MTT-glitter added just the slightest hint of sweet to the otherwise spicy meal, contrasting in a surprisingly palatful way.

“Oh my stars,” you took a second bite, then a third, woofing down the first miniature taco in a minute flat. “This is amazing!” You praised Mr. Blue, who had begun on his own taco. Stars exploded on his eyes and his cheeks lit up as he chewed (did he open his mouth? How did he eat?), looking beyond pleased with your praise. You picked up a second taco (pink sparkles this time) but took your time with this one, savoring the meat and cheese. Without realizing it you began making pleased little hums and purrs as you ate.

Mr. Blue’s grin grew even wider at the happy noises, and he scooted just a bit closer to you, happily munching on his own food. He didn’t talk, just enjoyed the calm silence. Rivet had convinced the other Readers to stay inside on this lovely spring day by offering a special popcorn lunch with a movie, meaning they didn’t have to worry about anybody but themselves. So you both ate the tacos and enjoyed the sun.

By the end of your third taco you were beginning to feel full, but you didn’t want the rest to go to waste. Mr. Blue chuckled, having already polished off his fourth taco, and leaned towards you a bit. “You have something on your-” His hand reached for you, and you jerked back, dropping the last of your taco and flinching from his touch.

“Oh - oh stars, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Mr. Blue withdrew his hand and sat back, giving you plenty of room and looking as guilty as sin. “Oh jeez, I’ve just ruined the day,” he muttered to himself, voice dropping to near silence. Even without hearing him, you could see the emotions flicking across his face. You weren’t called a Reader for nothing, after all. Guilt was there, but so was anger - anger at himself, at his actions, anger at not thinking, anger at himself for scaring you.

You paused - you weren’t scared. You’d been startled, sure, but...but you weren’t scared. Not of him. As Mr. Blue muttered something that sounded like ‘stupid’ to himself a few times, you brushed off the rest of the taco (which had fallen on your lap and stained your jeans) and stood. The monster noticed and went still, ready and waiting for you to bolt back to the shelter, away from his stupid hands and his stupid impetuousness.

Instead you approached him, carefully, slowly, across the checkered blanket. He had dropped his hands in his lap, and you wobbled across the uneven cloth to pat his knee instead. Being even closer to Mr. Blue reminded you just how tiny you were, but it didn’t bother you. Not with him.

“I’m not scared of you,” you patted his knee again. “You just startled me.”

He stared down at you with tiny, quivering pinpricks of light, stunned, and at a loss you gave his knee a third ‘pat-pat.’ The lights exploded into stars, and his magic sparked around his face, creating sparkles that wouldn’t be out of place in one of the manga’s from the library (all donated by the plethora of Alphys’ & Undyne’s on the mountain).

“Really?” He asked, breathless. “You’re not scared of me?” His hands twitched, and you moved back a bit to avoid getting taken out by any over-enthusiastic gesticulating.

“Well, I - I don’t want to be picked up, o-or anything like that,” you looked away, feeling your own face heat up, “But I’m not scared you’re gonna hurt me anymore.”

Mr. Blue let out a little high-pitched ‘squeeeeeeeee!’ noise, bringing his hands to his chest as he bounced in place. “Oh, little green Reader, I’m so happy you trust me!”

Trust him? Yes. You did trust him. Nobody who cried over stepping on a bug could be a bad guy, you had decided. And him not being a bad guy meant you could...possibly...trust him. Not to pick you up or handle you, but to be near you? Yes. You trusted him.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed at the realization that you trusted a monster, you trudged back to your tacos and sat back down, suddenly feeling hungry once more. You nibbled on your fourth, decorated with pale-green glitter, just like your sweater, and watched Mr. Blue come slowly off his ‘friendship high’ to resume eating his own lunch. By the time his watch beeped, signaling the end of his lunch break, you had both eaten far too many tacos and were basking in the sunshine and the silent glow of your newfound ‘trust-ship.’

“I must be off, little green Reader!” He announced, shutting both his and your tupperware containers. “I will give this to Miss Rivet, so that you may have tacos whenever you wish!” He shook the box a bit. “It is all monster food, so they shall never go bad!” He placed it on the blanket, then pulled out an even larger tupperware full to bursting with even more tiny tacos. “And I brought these so your Reader friends will not be jealous! They shall also have some of the Magnificent Blues Terrific Tacos!” You noticed that these tacos didn’t have any glitter on them, and felt a little ping of warmth in your SOUL. Your tacos were special, different from the rest, because Mr. Blue had made them for you, and you alone. He packed up his own lunch but, before standing, he gave you a long, hesitant look. “Reader, may I - may I give you a pat before I go?” He asked.

A pat? Had he meant a pet? You thought of Doggo, who had a seeing-eye Reader who visited the shelter every few weeks to do some chores for Miss Rivet, like patching the roof or helping build on to the crazy backyard playground. He was always going on about being pet, and in turn petting his little Reader. The pets always looked...kind of nice. Soft. Slowly, you nodded.

With a frankly ridiculous and slow movement, Blue reached out with his hand flattened, and gave you a gentle ‘pat, pat’ on the head, just like you’d done with his knee. He drew his hand back and, looking like a kid in a candy store, said ‘Goodbye!’ before getting to his feet and fleeing into the shelter, nearly vibrating with excitement. You heard him whoop loudly a few minutes later, after you assumed he’d escaped the shelter and resumed his route. Grinning like an idiot,  you reached up and ran a hand over your head, where he’d pet you.

Pat, pat.

You liked pats.

Phone calls nearly every day now, and lunch twice a week (every Tuesday and Thursday). You began talking back on the phone, telling Blue (he’s insisted you drop the ‘Mr.’ to his name, since you were friends) all about life at the Shelter, about the kitchen and the mountain and the other Readers and the library. You told him all about the books you read, and he’d even gotten a copy of The Westing Game and was reading it with you, both of you promising not to read ahead, and together you were working out who the murderer was. Blue had even looked it up and confirmed that Turtle was, in fact, a human with a weird nickname, not a turtle-monster named by Asgore.

Sweets was over the moon. As you opened up more to Blue, you began leaving your room more often, and even spent time at the art corner or at the communal library pillow, not talking much but still being there, with others, instead of closing yourself off. You no longer ran for cover the second an unfamiliar monster visited the shelter - you kept your distance, but you didn’t hide, didn’t panic. On the few occasions it rained on a Tuesday or Thursday and you had to eat your picnic lunch inside, Blue made enough for all the other Readers and Rivet and everybody ate lunch together.

But you were the only one he pet.

It had moved on from pats. Your second lunch, you moved to sit beside him, and he gave you a pat at the end of the meal. The third time you had spoken for a few minutes about a book you found that you liked, and he’d patted your head and encouraged you to tell him more. By the sixth time, if he didn’t have something in his hands, he was patting and petting you, or just resting a hand on your back, as much as you’d let him. You found it soothing and comforting, and no longer had any fear that he would hurt you on purpose. (You were a bit of a realist, and accidents did happen, all the time).

You let him pick you up, once. You’d been showing him how part of the crazy jungle gym worked (swinging from an ascending set of monkey bars to a tube that led to a twisty slide) and had fallen and hurt your ankle. He’d spent three minutes dithering before asking, point-blank, if he could pick you up to take you inside, and after an equal time of dithering on the answer, you’d said yes. He’d moved with that exaggerated slowness again, making sure you could see and knew what he was going to do. He’d scooped you up and held you close to his chest, close enough you could hear his SOUL pulsing, and taken you inside. Rivet had wrapped your ankle and warned you to be more careful, though there was no heat in the warning and she looked beyond pleased that Blue was holding you. The skeleton had kept you in his hand for the rest of lunch, and you couldn’t find any reason to object.

That hadn’t been repeated - he was respecting your boundaries as much as possible, and the second you showed discomfort he backed off and made sure to understand what he had done wrong. He understood when you had a bad day because of a nightmare and kept his hands to himself. He understood when you were in a cuddly mood and wanted to hug his hand. He understood, and you honestly couldn’t ask for anything better.

You trusted him, and you trusted he would always do what was best for you. In return, you would do your best for him.

Two months later, Blue was back on city patrol. You liked seeing him in his uniform - he looked like a police officer, but instead of a badge, he had the sigil of the Swap Clan embroidered over his chest pocket. He also had a peaked cap that made his head look rounder than before. He kept stopping by for lunch, always cheery and saying hello to all the Readers he knew, but reserving most of his attention for you.

Today he didn’t bring in his basket, or his smile. Today his arrival was preceded by a screech of metal as outside the shelter, on the slick rainy street, one car turned too fast and slid, straight into another that was waiting to turn. In the crash and the chaos the skidding jeep bounced off the waiting one and flipped, first onto its side, then its roof, trapping its passengers. The other car, a more sturdily built SUV, rocked on its heels and had a large dent but was fine. The bunny family inside - a mother and her four kits, grocery shopping for the week - got out to assess the damage, and the mother called the guard.

Blue had almost been to the shelter door when he saw the crash. Without missing a beat he threw open the door and yelled for Rivet, who was already halfway across the room with her first aid kit to see if she could help.

“I’m commandeering this space for any injured we need to get out of the rain before the ambulances arrive,” he explained, and the deer pinned her ears back in worry (and a bit of annoyance at being told her shelter was ‘commandeered,’ if she were being honest). “I need you to get all the Readers in the Pen, I don’t want any to be in the way or get hurt.” He glanced over at the Pen and gave the gathered Reader’s a forced smile. “Hear that, guys? I need you out of the way please.” White eyelights skimmed over them all, and came to rest on you.

You were sitting on the Pen wall, a new mystery book you both had been reading clutched in your hand, the list of clues and suspects escaping your mind as you met his gaze. He gave you an apologetic smile and motioned, with a jerk of his head, to get in the Pen where it was safe, before running back to the car accident outside. He spoke to the mother bunny, then went to the car and knelt beside it, talking to the monsters inside. There was no dust, so nobody was badly hurt or dead, but you could hear them screaming from all the way out here.

The mother led her bunnies into the shelter, and Rivet finished shooing all the Readers into the Pen and hurried to check them over. She gave each of the kits a lollipop and set them up on one of the couches, then began conversing quietly and urgently with the mother. Outside another guard member, this one a yellow lizard-monster, had arrived, and she and Blue were carefully cutting off the doors of the jeep, and if the shrieking coming from the driver's seat was any indication, the owner was not happy.

It wasn’t until after they’d pulled the last of the teenage monsters from the car that something akin to panic washed over Blue’s face. As the last teen was pulled free (an odd tentacle-like monster who was yelling about her skateboard breaking), one of the others began screaming about someone being missing. Blue hushed her and leaned close to the wreck, listening hard for something. Whatever it was had his skull growing pale, and he took off for the door at a sprint.

You jumped when it banged open, but before Rivet could chastise the skeleton, he’d zeroed in on you. You were still sitting on the wall, clutching the book and watching the scene outside with a growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. You’d always thought of Monsters as being perfect, powerful beings. Not god-like, but certainly not able to be hurt and rattled and scared like little Readers were. Now, there were frightened rabbit kits on the couch, a worried mother trying to sooth them, and four rattled teenagers freaking out over something, not to mention Blue looked like he was caught in a life or death situation. From what you’d just seen and heard, you were thinking that was the case.

Blue rushed to the wall and held out his hand in front of you, blue sweat beading along his pale skull. “I need your help,” he said, voice firm despite the anxiety on his face. “There’s a Reader trapped under the jeep, but I can’t move the jeep because I don’t know where they are. I need you to-”

You didn’t let him finish. You dropped the book and climbed onto his hand, the urgency in his voice spurring you to action. You’d spent the last three months learning to trust Blue, growing to be his friend, and when a friend was in need, you did what you could to help. Forget your sweater, and it’s stupid pale-green color. This piece of fabric didn’t define you! You weren’t timid, you were brave and strong and kind. You’d made friends with a monster, despite all your fears. You could do whatever Blue - whatever your friend - needed you to.

Said friend gave you a relieved look, pulling his hand up to his chest to hold you steady before turning and sprinting out of the shelter. The yellow lizard (you were fairly certain her name was Alphys, if she was the friend Blue often spoke of) was herding three of the teenagers into the shelter, where they would be dry and warm. The fourth teenager, a cow monster, was standing by the car, hysterically calling out a name over and over again. The jeep had been propped up with four glowing bones on each side, keeping it from rocking or sliding in the rain.

“Matty! Matty, please, say something! Maaaatttttyyyy!” She sobbed, kneeling by the back of the jeep.

“Ma’am,” Blue grabbed her shoulder with his free hand and gently pulled her back, “Ma’am, I need you to step back and be quiet for a moment. I have someone here who will help you find your Reader.” He gently shushed the monster, who wiped at her eyes and looked down at you.

“You can find Matty?” She asked, her voice drained and hoarse.

Your SOUL swelled at the tone, and you nodded. “Yes, I’ll find him,” you reassured her, reaching out and patted her hands (which she was wringing in front of her chest). You didn’t think that it was odd, to be talking to and touching a strange monster. You just thought of how upset she was, and how scared she was for her Reader, and how comforting her was the kind thing to do.

Stepping away from the teen, Blue knelt down beside the jeep and, after hesitating a moment, moved his hand through the space where the back door had once been. A bright-blue bone appeared, its magic lighting up the whole interior of the car, revealing ripped leather seats and a maelstrom of fast food wrappers mixed with broken glass. You carefully stepped off your boney magic carpet, grateful for the boots you’d taken to wearing so you could run around with the other Readers outside.

“He was riding with his owner in the backseat,” Blue explained, and the bone floated towards the back. The roof of the car had crumpled upwards, pressing against the back of the seats, leaving only small gaps where there used to be plenty of head space. “The back was full of boxes - the driver just moved to an apartment. I think he’s trapped back there.” He pointed a bit, and you followed his finger, seeing a maze of seat leather and cardboard illuminated by the bone. You hesitated to move towards it, wary of falling boxes, but Blue gave your head a little pat. “My magic is holding everything still,” he explained, “But if you don’t feel safe, that’s fine, we can figure out something else.”

You thought about your birth, about the insanity of the battlefield and the feeling of being alone, of being afraid, of being trapped behind that stupid potted plant and having no idea where you were and who to trust. You thought of being trapped in between boxes, thrown about as the car slid, having no idea where your Monster is or if anybody is going to save you in time. You thought of Matty being alone, trapped in the back seat, pinned between the roof of the jeep and a layer of cardboard boxes, not knowing whether help was coming or not.

“He needs help,” you said, moving towards the maze, “and I can help him.” Blue nodded, and the bone carefully followed you as you squeezed past the backseat and the side of the car and into the mess of the back. The blue light cast everything in an eerie, alien glow, but it gave you plenty of light to see by. There were cracks and spaces between the boxes, too big for a monsters hand to fit, but small enough for you to slip through. You moved slowly, tugging the bone after you, pressing against the boxes, all of which stayed perfectly in place, held tight by magic to prevent further injury.

At about the middle of the maze you heard it - a quiet rasping noise, the sound of labored breathing, the sound of someone holding back tears of fright. It was a sound you knew well. You froze, listening, and heard it again coming from your left. Grabbing onto the edge of the bone, you pulled it after you, into a crevasse made between a box of kitchen pans and a sleeping bag.

A male Reader in an fluffy jacket and jeans was lying on his back, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. He was huffing, tears staining his cheeks, and judging by the trail of blood behind him, he’d used up all his energy to reach this point. As the light filled the space, his head snapped up, hope lighting them. “Bessie?”

“No, sorry,” you whispered, tugging the bone closer so you could see him clearly. His ankle was definitely broken, and there was a cut on his arm that was sluggishly dripping blood. “I’m - well, I don’t have a name yet. Blue sent me to help. Bessie is really worried about you.” You knelt beside him and helped him struggle into a sitting position.

“Is Blue your monster?”

You opened your mouth to say no, then thought about it. He came to see you all the time, the two of you talked almost every day, you shared everything, you’d solved the murder of the Westing Game together…

“Yes. Blue is my monster.” You moved his arm so it was over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet. He grunted, and you grimaced as some blood was wiped on your sweater (your stupid, wrong, pale-green sweater). A couple swears slipped out beneath his breath, and you grinned at his frustration. He was a Brave or a Determined - no other Readers swore with that much creativity.

You shuffled back through the maze, making sure to look at the labels on the boxes to make sure you were going the right way. It was slow going, and several times Matty accidentally put weight on his bad foot and had to stop and swear again. Soon, the smell of wet asphalt and worried voices met your ears. The pair of you emerged through the small crack by the back seat, to be hit with blinding light as a flashlight swept past.

“Oh thank the stars!” Blue, without waiting or asking for permission, swept the both of you up in his hands and brought you to his chest. You took one look at his worried face, furrowed brow and all, and decided you’d let it slide this once. Matty wasn’t ruffled, simply looking happy at being off his bum ankle. “You’re both freezing - lets get you inside.” As he turned, you could see a police car and an ambulance pulling up.

“MATTY!” The second you were through the door the cow monster was there, looking frantic and making grabby hands at her Reader.

“Bessie!” Matty was no less relieved, and he reached out for his owner. She scooped him up and cradled him to her cheek, cooing at him and worrying over his ankle. Rivet (who had been yelling at the other three teens, who were draped in blankets and clutching hot cocoa) came over and offered to look at Matty’s leg and arm. Bessie followed her into the back room, crying and huffing out ‘ohmygoodness’-es all the while.

A new guardsman, this one a tall, sharp-looking skeleton monster with red eyes and three scars over one socket, strode into the shelter, looking less than pleased at the situation. “Report!” He snapped at Blue, who held you a bit closer to his chest and glared at him.

“There’s no need to be rude, Edge.” He huffed, before pointing across the room at the water-logged teens. “The driver of the jeep took a corner too fast, slid into Mrs. Manicarots car, and flipped. Alphys and I got everyone out safe, other than some bumps and bruises. There was an injured Bitty Reader, but Rivet is taking care of him now.”

Edge nodded, threw the long end of his scarf over his shoulder, and marched over to glower and yell at the reckless teens for driving dangerously. Blue let out a huff of relief and moved to sit by the Pen wall, leaning against it and setting you down on top of it.

Well, trying to set you down. You wrapped your fingers firmly around the front of his shirt and pressed your face against the clean cotton. He chuckled and leaned back, letting you settle against his chest and stroking your back with his thumb. “You’re soaking wet,” he muttered, though he made no move to move you. “You need to change clothes.”

“Already on it!”

Sweets, like a particularly annoying genie, had appeared with a soft white sweater and a clean pair of sweatpants in her arms. She was beaming at the two of you, looking like a proud mama bird who’d just shoved her baby out of the nest and watched it fly away. Despite your grumbling Blue pried you away from his shirt and set you on the wall, leaving you without a skeleton to hug. Pouting, you turned away from Blue (who glanced away, blushing) and quickly changed into the new pants. Sweets stood between the pair of you while you pulled off the blood-stained, stupid-pale-green sweater and replaced it with the soft white one.

Not white for long, you thought to yourself, soon it’ll be that stupid pale-green again. Ignoring the magic that changed the sweaters colors, you sidestepped Sweets and tugged on Blue’s sleeve. He glanced back down at you and, to your surprise, went rigid, jaw dropping and stars blooming in his eyes.

“What?” You asked, turning to glance at Sweets when he didn’t answer, only to find her in the same state of silent excitement. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“You’re sweater! Look!” Sweets grabbed your arm and forced it into your field of vision. The sleeve of your sweater was green (of course), but not the pale minty color you had grown used to. Instead it was a dark, emerald green, like moss or oak leaves or emeralds. It wasn’t the green of timidity, or of shyness, or of quiet. It was the green of kindness, the shade of selflessness.

“You’re a kind Reader!” Blue announced, reaching out to scoop you up. He paused, but when you nodded he caught you in his hands and brought you to his chest.

“No,” you muttered, snuggling back into his shirt (in a spot slightly to the left, where it was dry), “I’m your Reader.”

I have no idea what you guys will think of this chapter. I had a ton of fun writing it (spent today subbing for a librarian, basically spent six hours writing!) and I like the ideas I used, but as always I want to hear from you guys! What did you think?

The Westing Game is a real book, by Ellen Ramkin, and it is fantastic! The ending will blow your mind. BOOM!

Thanks to everybody who helped out, I was able to pay my rent on time! (Though I will be eating ramen for a while; it's a good thing I like it!)

As always, you awesome, amazing Readers, let me know what you think! I love you all! Cheers!

[purintarts]

Mr & Mrs Choi  [Part 2]

Click for PART 1

The sound of your alarm woke you up from slumber, reaching up you tapped the red button on your phone to make it stop. Luciel groaned as he threw his hand around your waist, pulling you close to his chest before snuggling his face into your hair.

“Sae, wake up, we have work to do” you groaned as you tried to pry his hands away so you could get ready for the day. However, he had other plans when he suddenly climbed on top of you, pinning you down on the bed.

Luciel gave you a lazy sleepy smile before he landed himself on top you, wrapping his arms around your middle as he laid his head on your chest.

“We can be late, once in a while~” he said making you huffed “You’re heavy!” whining, you tried to push him off but instead, he rolled over with you in his arms making you lay on top of him instead.

“I’m going outstation for three days! Can’t I enjoy my time with my wife before I leave tomorrow?” he whined making you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not as if it’s the first time you’re going outstation! So dramatic” you grumbled, tapping your fingers on his chest impatiently.

“You married a dramatic man, my cinnamon bun!” Luciel chirped before grabbing your hand to stop your tapping “and if you keep doing that, we might not go to work at all today” he said deeply with his morning husky voice.

You felt heat rising up your face, taking your pillow, you slammed it on his face making him yelped before you quickly rolled off to your feet. Luciel pulled down the pillow and glared at you jokingly as winked at him “Not today, tomato” you chuckled before going inside the bathroom, locking it up.

Luciel threw the pillow back on his face before he let out a sigh. Can he just have a day off with you without worrying about work or even approaching his technical devices for once?

His phone started beeping by the alarm he had set last night.

Of course not.

You locked the door behind you, humming a tune, your stripped out of your pajamas before getting in the shower. As you stood under the warm water, your mind immediately trailed away for a plan for the mission. Making mental notes of what you were going to do today, finding Kim Jason and that would mean you’re going to his house where you will also find his car.

If he is not there, I can set up a tracker at his cars and track his moves from there.

Turning off the water, you took a towel and dry yourself up as you looked at the mirror. You eyed at the scars on your body, each that you got in the field or training. Luciel believed that it was from an accident but it was far than that.

You will make them pay for what they had done to your country and to your family.

If finding this Agent can lead you to them and bring justice.

You will find Agent 707.

    After giving you a good bye kiss, Seven put on his shoes and head off to the public bus. Instead of going straight to the toy factory which was where he is based in, the top floor of the building is where his unit was located at; Seven took the bus to the HQ, the main office of the toy shop.

Don’t let the colourful store front fool you, the only part of the business are only from the 1st to 5th floor, the 6th to 10th? It is all part of the intelligence unit, his agency. Seven went straight up to the 10th floor to report for duty.

Sitting down on the leather chair, a man no older than 60 walked in with a sharp grey suit as he sat at his chair at the wooden mahogany table.

“Report, Agent”

Seven begin to give him the report, talking about what happen and giving him the evidence he got from CCTV and also the one he recorded personally with his devices. His watch was showing the hologram of the pictures from yesterday’s event, blueprints and locations were shown.

“However the thing I’m curious about is Kitty” Seven stated, crossing his fingers with one another as he stared at the man he’s working for “From what I gathered, they do not exist- let me rephrase that; they make them non-existent”

“I would say to not give heed but the fact that was their dying words, find this Kitty” his boss said “The faster you get them, the faster we can get this settle. I am done with this Russians”

“Capture them?” Seven asked and his boss looked him straight in the eyes, straight to his soul.

“Kill them”

   You sat in your work car, a couple blocks away from the property that was registered under Kim Jason, the one near your husband’s workplace and there it was, the red Ferrari parked at the porch.

There were no signs of life or anyone going in or out. Noticing how the coast was clear, wrapping a bandana and putting on a pair of sunglasses, you had cycled down the street and rolled a metal ball of tracker under the car, automatically the ball would stick to the nearest metal space, the ball is open and spread like a star as it clutched on the car.

A notification beeped on your compact powder, signaling that the tracker was successfully installed. Seeing a newspaper that was put on top of the mail box, you slide your hand on top of it, slipping in a pamphlet for a grocery promotion.

The pamphlet was designed with one of the advanced technology as there was actually a thin layer between the paper that holds a microphone. How that happen? You have one of the mad but intelligent scientist in your agency.

Cycling away confidently, you got back to your car, throwing the bicycle into the bonnet before getting inside the driver seat. You knew how long stake outs were going to last, you had brought some snacks and your mini laptop to search for other evidences. At the same time, you had set up your second mini laptop for the microphone, just incased Kim Jason decided to drop by.

You called one of your co-workers, giving them the information about Kim Jason that you had and told them to find out more about him.

“Pictures, workplace, connections, anything. Find as much as you can about this person” you ordered through the phone. After a few exchange of words, you hanged up before looking back at the house. Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you narrowed your eyes at the house.

Six hours has passed and there were no Kim Jason or anyone going to the house.

You can’t stay here for long. You need to be home by dinner before Luciel returns. Since he is going outstation, you can do the stake out longer without any time limits. However, you need to have his face, a recognition but where can you put the camera?

Sure, it’s in a size of a lady bug but if this agent is good, they would figure it right away and use the device against you, possibly finding out your location. Analyzing the house, you try to find a place that will not be too obvious and yet show a clear view.

Finding your target, you drove over and threw the camera at the lamp pole that will show you a clear view of Kim Jason. The camera automatically sticks on the pole and with a notification, it was successfully installed.

Smirking to yourself, you pressed the gas and sped off.

On the other street, Seven was seated with the spy’s co-worker that they had took in. The guy was beat up, blood came out from his nose and he could barely stand up as his hands were cuffed behind him.

Apparently, after giving out the information and killed his friend, he had gotten the guilt trip and didn’t want to spill the beans. Seven crossed his arms as he leaned on the wall while his friend, Vanderwood, swipe the blood off the whip.

“Come on bro, just tell us! Look at what you had gotten! My friend over here is not as patient as me” Seven crouched down in front of him “We just need to know about Kitty”

The guy shook his head frantically, blubbering nonsense, barely making sense.

“No…. she… kill me… I die here! Not there! No no! Scared! I’m scared!” he whimpered, tears fell from his eyes “Die here! Yes! Die here! Me! Kill! Kill! No kitty please no kitty!”

Seven took his chin and pulled the guy’s face to face him.

“Is Kitty that scary?” he asked and the guy nodded “YES! YES! NO KITTY!”

Seven hummed as he pulled the guy to a sit “How about this? You tell us, we shall fix your wounds and work for us. We can protect you from Kitty”

“NO! YOU DON’T KNOW HER! YOU DON’T KNOW!”

“Then tell us about her” Vanderwood said, the whip at his hand was ready “We can’t waste time”

The guy panted as he looked at Vanderwood and Seven, glancing at the two males before shutting his eyes. “K-Kitty…She- hitman, hacker, all-rounder! You can’t protect me from her! She’s the best among the best! She’ll kill you first!” he gaped as he looked down at himself “She’s after me. I shouldn’t have said that nononono… she’s going to kill me”

“She won’t kill you” Seven glanced at Vanderwood in curiosity before looking back at the guy “We’re here aren’t we? How about we make it simple eh? If she did kill you, we can avenge your death as we kill her”

The guy panted, every breath he took looks painful as his red eyes flickered. Seven knew he was in a panic attack but the fact that he’s talking, Seven could care less.

“S-s-she… left hand man. Kitty is the left hand man, she- all I know is how she looks like, she is like a shadow, no one will notice her!” he said before spouting the hair and eye colours to them, describing facial features and the body of kitty.

“You won’t know what hit you….” He said as he looked down on the floor “Kitty is that good and one of the boss’s trusted and favourite agent”

“Who is the boss?” Vanderwood asked and the guy shook his head “Nobody knows the boss, except his right hand man and…Kitty”

Seven pursed his lips as he looked at the man “We need more information than just the way she looks to find her, what else? Date? Name? Age? Address? Coordinates?”

“All I know is that she is based here! In this city!” he exclaimed and Vanderwood rolled his eyes “You need to be more specific”

“CAT EARCUFFS!” he shouted “She has cat ear-cuffs! It’s one of her devices- it’s um… gold and blings on its eyes”

Seven hummed as he got up “I’ll check it out, Vanderwood, you handle him” he said, nodding at Vanderwood before he walked out the room.

“So Kitty might have tiger claws huh…” Seven hummed a tune, as he made his way into his hacking room.

   You were checking the status of the Kim Jason’s house as you waited for Luciel. He’s rather late today, an hour late to be exact. After sending him a text, you look at your compact powder, seeing how there were no more news.

In a click of the door you quickly shut your compact powder down as you heard footsteps and shuffling at the front door.

“I’m home!” your husband’s chirpy voice resonates the house.

You threw the compact powder into your handbag as you walked out with crossed arms “You’re late” you narrowed your eyes towards him as he grinned while rubbing his nape “Sorry darling, I had to finished my work before I leave tomorrow” he said, shrugging off his jacket and taking off his shoes.

“You could have called you know, I was waiting for you! The food has gotten cold” you pouted and Luciel chuckled as he pecked your lips “I’m sorry babe, my phone died and I didn’t realize until I was in the bus”

You took his bag as you set it down beside the sofa as he made his way towards the kitchen while unbuttoning his top buttons “Wow, that looks good!”

“I’ll re-heat it up, do you want to go shower first?” you said as you circled around him towards the pot, lighting up the fire to re-heat it. Luciel leaned on the kitchen island as he looked at you walking around “Nah, I’ll wait. I’m too hungry to take a shower first”

“They say if you shower after you eat, you’ll get fat” you said as you took out the plates, Luciel walked towards the pot as he stir the food inside “That’s alright babe, then we can shower together” he looked at you and winked “We can lose the weights”

You scoffed as you walked passed him, letting out a yelp when he slapped your butt. You set up the dining table as Luciel help you to handle the drinks and the pot. Next thing you knew, you two were laughing over something he said over a glass of red wine.

You propped your chin with your hand, staring at Luciel who was still grinning as he looked at his glass of wine. You swirl your glass with your other hand before putting it against your lips, taking it to the very last drop.

Setting the glass down, the two of you surround yourselves in silence as you looked into each other’s eyes.

“MC” Luciel called out before he looked into his glass “Thank you”

“For the wine? I bought it with your money, darl” you giggled as you took the bottle of red wine, pouring into your glass.

“No” he set the cup down “Thank you for this life”

You paused your movements as you looked into his eyes, true and honest eyes. The way he said it, you can see how he truly mean it but the fact that you used him just to cover yourself up with an identity made your heart clenched with guilt.

“Why all of the sudden?” you cracked a smile as you set the bottle down, glancing at your husband who was downing to his wine “I don’t know. Just felt like it” he shrugged, setting the empty glass down “Can’t a husband thank his wife?” he cracked a grin.

The amount of guilt consumed you, he deserved a true wife who actually married him because of him and yet, he had gotten a fraud. However, the mission must go on and if anything, you can be true for once.

You clasped the top of his hands and he automatically turned his hands over, crossing his fingers with you. You cracked a small smile as you looked at your intertwined hands “No, Thank you Luciel”

Luciel stared at you in silence for several second before he let out an awkward chuckled “Believe me dear, there’s nothing I had done for you to thank me for” shaking his head, he looked down at his empty glass.

“You did a lot” you replied making him look at you.

“Well then” he got up, pulling his hands away as he held the table “Let’s get this clean up so we can take shower and go to bed” he grinned as he took some of the plates to the kitchen.

You held back a sigh as you downed the red wine before getting up yourself, taking the empty plates and pots into the kitchen.

The guilt was suffocating.

You shut your eyes and opened them again, looking at your husband’s back who had started on the dishes.

No feelings. No guilt. He is your pawn and he will be left behind one day. Accept it, consume it.

No regrets.

    Seven laid on the bed as he looked up to the ceiling. It was half past 2AM and he knew that he would need to wake up early but sleep doesn’t come by. Glancing over at you laying on his bare chest, his arm was around your bare shoulder and only the blanket covered you both up.

He didn’t know why he decided to blurt it out. Was it the wine? Or was it the guilt?

Seven shut his eyes in frustration, he cursed himself for being too caught up in the moment. He was thinking how wonderful it was to have someone, to have a family that he had forgotten that this was an act. The marriage was not true, he was not true.

You were wonderful, marrying and taking care of him and he felt happy. He was thankful that you let him taste this short-lived happiness that he blurted it out and thanked you. Seven was guilty of using you for his own selfish-ness and when you thanked him back, he knew that if you were to put a bullet in him, he would take it with open arms.

A price he would take if you were to find out what he actually do, what he actually is.

He dreads that day but he knows it will come eventually.

He would have to leave you eventually.

Wrapping his arms around you, he took in your warmth. He had always hold you every night as if it were the last night. Seven would never knew how it end and when will he be consumed with coldness once more.

How will it end?

You found out who he was,

He leaving without a trace,

Or

A bullet through your head.

He can’t let the agency find out about this. You were innocent. Therefore, he shall make sure he completes every mission successfully so the agency won’t track you. After that, he will leave you properly but for now to ensure your safety;

He needs to find and end Agent Kitty.

CLICK FOR PART 3

[ddaddsprompts]

Before your ask box closes i FINALLY thought of a prompt: the dads with a ticklish s/o :D (btw your writing is amazing!)

I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to get to your prompt! Hopefully, now that we are four people instead of just me, things will go faster and you won’t have to wait as long! - Mod Mare

🥃 “Want another round?” At the sound of Robert’svoice you turn your head towards him. It’s strange how a few months can changea man so much, but Robert proves it’s possible. He got professional help,picked up a hobby other than drinking and cryptid hunting and actually startedtaking a shower every other day instead of once a week. His drinking gotbetter, too, decreased to a normal and acceptable level. He still can drink youunder the table though. The empty glass in front of you was only your third drink,however, so you slide it over to where he’s standing in front of thetable. He dips his head and disappears for a moment, returning with two filledglasses. You scoot to the side to let him slide into the booth again.Automatically, he throws his arm across your shoulders, pulling you close untilyour sides are pressed together. Like always whenever he touches you, youblush. Though he told you he wants to take things slow and wait until he’sready, you two still behave like a couple in public, only with less kissing andhand-holding. “Thanks, Bobert,” you say raising your glass in a toast. He rollshis eyes. “I told you not to call me that,” he grunts and drops his arm again. Indoing so, his fingers brush over your nape, right where the fine hair thickens followingyour spine up your skull. You can’t help the shudder that goes down your back andlean away from the touch. Robert frowns, then his expression turns downrightevil. “Oh, someone’s ticklish, huh?” You glare at him and move to the edge ofthe booth. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture which is destroyed byhis smirk. “Scout’s honour. I won’t tickle you… for now.”

🍸”Help!” You try to wrench Christie offof you, but Christian holds down your arm with surprising strength for a seven-year-oldchild. To be fair, you’re holding back, not wanting to accidentally hurt them,but the longer this goes on, the harder it is to control your body. “Help!”Joseph finally puts down his book and takes in the scene in front of him with agrin. When Christian asked you whether you’re ticklish, you should have knownthe twins had a plan. You wonder if telling the truth would have saved you, butfigure the outcome would have been the same, no matter what you said. Christiemanages to pull your shirt free and slips her hands under the fabric. A verymanly yelp escapes your lips as she begins tickling your sides. Now that theycan reach your skin, the torture is even worse, your end is near. Your vision isblurred because of the tears and you’re laughing so hard you can’t beg for helpany longer, but Joseph wouldn’t have saved you anyway. With a chuckle, yourboyfriend sits down on the ground next to you. “Looks like the valiant knighthas been slain by the Spider Prince and Princess! Surrender and your miseryshall end!” You try to squirm out of Christie’s reach, but Christian moves over,effectively trapping you. Gasping for breath, you look at Chris, but he’s too busyplaying on his Gameboy. Faced with inevitable defeat, you still put on yourmost determined expression. “Never, Spider King!” Joseph leans over you andgrins. “Then suffer!” At the feeling of his fingers expertly squishing your sides,you scream. It’s a wonder none of the neighbours call the police.

☕ The beeping of Mat’s phone alarm slowly wrests you from the realm ofdreams and thrusts you back into the waking world. You groan and pull thenearest object over your head, which probably is a pillow, not that you care. Nextto you, Mat chuckles and moves, the bed shifting along with him. His weightleaves the mattress and you hear him walk, the creak of the door telling you he’sgone to the bathroom. One of the major disadvantages of dating a barista: Healways gets up far too early. It’s probably only four or five am, far, far too early for any human being to beawake, and yet you enjoy cuddling with him far too much to sleep in your ownbed. The pillow on your head is suddenly pulled off, exposing you to the light.You groan and cover your face with your hands but Mat’s having none of it,gently prying them off again. Once your eyes adjust to the brightness, you seehim leaning over you, dreads hanging down. One lock brushes over your neck,making you squirm away, giggling. Mat raises an eyebrow. “Are you ticklish?”You vehemently shake your head. Mat copies the movement, but a lot slower – it causeshis dreadlocks to glide over your skin. A shudder runs down your spine. You tryto escape, but Mat’s weight on top of you keeps you trapped in place. Mat chucklesand does it again. “You are.” You can’tspeak, trying to catch your breath between giggles, but you manage a nod. Youkeep your chin pressed to your chest and pull your shoulders up as far as theygo so he can’t tickle you anymore. “Are you going to stay like this forevernow?” You grunt. Mat kisses your forehead and climbs off the bed again. “Seeyou later, turtle.”

🌹 Damien is intelligent, charming and a gentleman through and through. That’swhere the problem lies. Because as much as you love it when he wraps an armaround your waist or puts a hand on the small of your back, it’s also maddeningas hell. So far, you managed to not give away what you consider your greatestweakness, but only barely. Lucien, you’re sure, already knows what’s up; he keepson shooting you unamused looks whenever you have to bite your tongue so you don’tstart giggling when Damien does it again. It’s only a matter of time untilDamien finds out. You assumed it would be during sex or another activity withequal amounts of touching. You did not takeDamien’s interest in yoga into account. That’s a battle you cannot win. Seeinghim go from one painful-looking pose into the next with ease reminds you ofyour aching, ageing bones. You barelymanage to do the ‘low lunge’ without your back screaming in protest and Damienmakes it look so easy. “Here, let mehelp you.” Damien steps behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder. The otherslides down your spine, applying the faintest of pressure. You manage to hold in,until Damien’s hand settles at the curve where your spine meets your ass. Yousplutter, then laugh and, in your attempt to squirm out of reach, you fallforward on your face. “Oh my! Are you okay, Y/N? I didn’t mean to push so hard—“He tries to help you up again, but that just makes you laugh harder. Damien liesdown next to you and chuckles. “You’re ticklish?”“I’m neither going to confirm nor deny that.” He reaches forward and brusheshis finger over your side. With a yelp you scoot backwards and glare.

🎣 Right after Amanda, the invention of chocolateburgers and Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers, cuddling with Brianis the best thing in the world. You love putting your head on his chest andwrapping your arms around his torso; you love giving him belly rubs, making himlaugh so much it vibrates through his whole body. It’s even better when youboth are tired from a long day at work and flop down on the couch right afterdinner. You’re not always ‘on top’, so to speak. Sometimes, like it is rightnow, Brian’s head lies comfortably on your chest as you hold him close to you.You move your hands to his hips, starting to draw silly patterns into his skinwith your thumb. Brian giggles against your shirt and squirms away from yourtouch. You pause. “You can’t be serious. You’re ticklish?” It’s like Christmasand Thanksgiving in one. Brian pouts. “Am not.” You wiggle your fingers againsthis waist, drawing a snort from Brian as he tries not to laugh. “Are too.”“I bet you are ticklish. Maybe here?”He pokes your side; you raise your eyebrow. He tries under your arms, but youdon’t even twitch. “I think you’re trying to deflect from yourself, dear.”Brian smirks and scoots upwards. “I’m going to find your weakness, Y/N, mark my—“He blinks in surprise at your sudden, startled laugh and leans back. You coveryour mouth with your hand and duck your head, but not fast enough. Realisationdawns in his face. Brian grins and dives back in, rubbing his beard all overyour neck. “N-no!” You whine. You try to escape but he’s stronger and pins youdown, mercilessly assaulting your neck until you’re a laughing, sobbing mess.

👟 It rarely happens, but sometimes, you and Craigend up arguing. Most often, it’s about silly things, like what you should havefor dinner or who was supposed to do the laundry but didn’t. You never gotloud, there was no throwing dishes involved because Craig had a master’s degreein communication, but there always was reconciliation sex afterwards. That’s theonly thing stopping you from storming out of the room right now because you’vebeen at it for an hour and stillhaven’t made any progress. Well, not the only thing, but the most convincing. “Craig,their bodies won’t decay just because they had ice cream once.” It feels likeyou’re stuck in a continuous loop; you must have said that sentence 300 timesby now. “Once? Bro, you take them out to ice cream after every major gamewhich, to you, is basically every game!”“It’s ice cream! They’re kids! Let them live a little! It’s only frozen milk,how bad can that be? No, I don’t want to hear the recipe again. I heard it fivetimes already.” Craig furrows his brows. You can tell he’s going through yourconversation so far, counting each time to prove you wrong. His shouldersdeflate as he counts to five. With silence descending on you like a heavy quillblanket, Craig unexpectedly reaches out and pokes your side. You flinch away. “Bro,what—“ He does it again. Your back hits the wall, trapping you in a corner.Craig wiggles his fingers. “You can’t just end the argument by tick— NO!” Craigwraps an arm around your waist; his free hand mercilessly tickles you in allyour sensitive spots. You gasp for air and try to free yourself, limbs flailinghelplessly. Somehow, you manage to kick Craig in the knee, sending you bothtoppling to the floor. Your eyes meet his and then you’re both breaking intolaughter.

📖 “Now, in theory, were this a match I would throw you right over my head.”From where you are slung across Hugo’s shoulder, all you can do is hum. Youdefinitely do not want him to throw you down, but you don’t think he’s goingto. That would definitely put a hamper on later activities. After your first physicalbrush with wrestling which led to Hugo and you making out, him suggesting to showyou more moves became a pick-up line which never fails to work. With how close andpersonal you always got, it’s a downright miracle he never noticed how ticklishyou are. Maybe he’s just never touched you in the right spots before or if hedid, you were already breathless so it didn’t matter much why you gasped forair to begin with. “Careful now, I’m going to let you down again.” Slowly, Hugoshifts his hands from your knee-pits upwards while bringing you back into anupwards position. When his hands brush over your lower back, where your shirthad ridden up due to the athletics you’ve been doing, a startled laugh escapesyour mouth. Hugo pauses; you can’t see his expression but you imagine himfrowning. He brushes over your back again. Again, you laugh. “Well, well, well.I didn’t know you were ticklish.” Without any obvious effort whatsoever, Hugolies you down on the bed. You do notlike the smirk on his face. “I’m not?” Hugo raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I am. Alittle.” His other eyebrow joins the conversation. “Fine, a lot.” Hugo folds hisglasses and puts them aside. “You know, I’m a fan of show, don’t tell.” Youonly get what he means when his hands are suddenly all over you. You try toscramble away but there’s no escaping JDSlamminger.

[life-love-and-alcohol]

Heyy I have a request: ok so I have this idea that Chris, Phichit, Yuuri and Viktor go to a Karaoke and they make teams, so Viktor and Chris choose songs for Yuuri and Phichit and like they choose BTS for Y and P and they act like they don't know the songs like "so just because I'm Japanese you think I would know kpop?" And when the lyrics start they both know the whole choreography and song, and V&C just stay like SHOOK jajaja idk something like that Btw I love how you write 😍

aaaa, I call this piece: “How to lose your every follower” by Sofía. Seriously, this is pure crack I’m so sorry. I’m not familiar with k-pop so I had to look up and it was quite a journey XD Anyways….I hope you at least laugh, this is so stupid hahah

Viktor knew there were many things alcohol could do.

Believe him, he had his sources.

He knew, from some vague chemistry lesson at the back of hismind (and that time he accidentally burnt the cabinet), that alcohol was highlyinflammable.

He knew, because of that really cool movie with the injuredsoldier, that it could be used as disinfectant (even though it burnt like abitch on raw flesh).

He knew, despite the fact the labels didn’t warn about it,that it could cause quite fervent phone calls to ex-lovers at three fifteen inthe morning.

And he knew, out from mere experience, that seven shots ofvodka were enough for Yuuri to start stripping.

He wasn’t surprised, honestly, just highly amused, wheneverthe euphoria kicked in and his fiancé started losing garments. It was theobvious, the finale everyone was waiting for, the happy ever after at the endof each fairy tale.

So that night, after he had gulped down his seventh mouthfulof the evening, not only Viktor but also Chris and Phichit knew what wascoming. In fact, anyone who had ever met Yuuri totally would have known whatwas coming. His family, any other skater, that waiter at the restaurant inMoscow that had had to personally detach him from the chandelier once….literallyanyone could have predicted the outcome.

They had just had a competition in Tokyo, and goodperformances always brought the good need to celebrate. The group of four hadspent quite a long while at a bar, emptying their glasses and their wallets to commemoratetheir places at the podium and a close fourth, cheeks pink and endorphins highas they cheered and raised their cups. It wasn’t like Yuuri was the only onedrinking, no way, Viktor and Chris had had their fair amount too, but theyweren’t as light-weighted, and they had a better tolerance.

By the time they left the bar, Chris was practicing his freeprogram in the middle of the street and the lovebirds were all over each othermaking out against any wall they could lean onto. So Phichit, who was the onlyone walking straight, took it upon himself to guide them towards the only neon signthat was big enough for his tired eyes to see, which ended up being a karaokeplace.

Now, one would probably think that as soon as the employeessaw a twerking man, a couple touching each other asses (one of them half naked), and a boy that couldn’t even point at his own face to take a selfie, theywouldn’t let them in. But apparently they recognized them from the competition,and not only gave them a room, but also asked for their wobbly autographs.

Everything was going perfectly: Yuuri and Viktor could taketheir business to a comfier sofa, Phichit found Wi-Fi to update his Instagram,and Chris could break out his portable pole to make the singing even moreintense….but the problem came when it was the time to choose the songs.

Of course there was the full soundtrack of The King and theSkater. And of course Viktor and Yuuri had to sing the Titanic theme, withdrama and tears involved, as they held each other at the edge of the table.  And don’t even get me started on the prettymuch not safe for work Giacometti cover of “Toxic”.  But those totally self-indulgent performancesweren’t the problem. Not at all.

The conflict started when they had to choose songs for eachother.

“Ok, so…” Yuuri hiccupped, one arm around his Viktor and theother around the bottle of vodka (his lovely two V) “I sing with the hottie,you two sing together”

He spit the words rather than saying them, mouth numbed andvoice groggy, pointing at his friends with the bottle.

“Nu-uh!” Phichit shook his head “You two sang together already!I want to sing with my best bro!”

“Awww!” Yuuri threw himself from his fiancé into Phichit’sarms, who caught him delightedly, laughing at the drunken tangle of limbsaround him “Of course we gon’ sing together! We gon’ sing way many better thanthem!”

“Yuuri oh my god, your English” His friend laughed, tryingto hold him to stand still “But I think what you meant is pretty clear: we cantotally kick their asses”

“Oh?” Viktor raised a brow, resting his elbow on Christophe’sshoulder “Are you challenging us?”

“Fuck yes we are” Phichit had to untie a half-naked Yuurifrom his own body before he gave him an awkward boner “What do you say, buddy?Ready to prove your fiancé who has the pants in the relationship??”

“Well, literally speaking, not him” Christophe chuckled,pointing at the exposed blue briefs.

“You know what I mean…come on! Choose a song! Whatever it iswe’ll sing it!”

“Yeah!! Put da’ song!” Yuurikicked the table to emphasize.                          

They both looked away from thescreen, hearing the muffled whispers of their rivals as they decided theirfate, and warming up their throats as much as they could without throwing up.They were ready, whatever the song was, they would turn around and put on thebest show those two had seen in their entire lives.

However, as the music startedplaying, the only show they put up was one of utter disappointment.

“Uhm, excuse me??” Phichitsnorted, crossing his arms “Is this K-pop??”

The speakers were screaming atthe beat of Not Today by BTS.

“You racist shits!” Yuuri gasped,terribly offended, poking Viktor’s chest with much more force than intended “Isthis because we are Asian??? I’m divorcing you!”

“Are you going to tell us you don’tknow the song?”

Yuuri and Phichit exchanged a culprit look, flashbacks ofboth of them singing that track at the top of their lungs during their free nightsin Detroit flooding their minds and tugging a complicit smirk on their tipsy lips.They both agreed they didn’t need to answer that question with words…when theycould just show them.

Grabbing a microphone, Yuuri tore open the last few buttonsof his shirt that were still on and started dancing with the confidence onlypractice and alcohol could provide. Phichit didn’t stay behind, not having todig that deep into his memories to recall the dance moves, and pushing the two dumbstruckwitnesses onto the sofa with a wink. In no second, they were both singingridiculously fluent Korean, swinging their hips, completely giving their backto the lyrics on the screen. They didn’t need them, anyways.

They not only knew the song. They knew the words by heart,and the entire choreography as well.

Viktor and Christophe stared, jaws dropped, until Yuuribothered to lean over and close both of their agape mouths for neither fliesnor complaints to get in. Their voices weren’t flawless, respectable for tworandom drunkards, but shaded by their impossible drive, the energy of theirdancing, and the symmetry in their movements. Christophe didn’t know when wasthe last time he had found a decent rival for his mature eros, but he certainlywasn’t expecting to find some to the tune of K-pop.

What started out as a perfect recreation of the actual choreography,ended up distorting into a much heated up version of the sequence. And beforethe spectators could get mentally ready or pray a rosary, they both got ontothe table with a jump. The song was fierce and potent, way more than they hadimagined, and way more they ever thought those two could dance. But,apparently, they could transfer the stamina they used on the ice onto thewooden table of a karaoke room.

And Phichit decided to try out the pole dance because whythe fuck not.

To say things had turned wild and penises kind of hard, wasan understandment.

But nothing could have prepared Viktor for Yuuri sliding outfrom the table with clumsy charm, and transporting the dance moves right ontohis lap.

He stuck his knees inthe seat, one at each side of the man’s legs, letting his hips continue theirsway in rhythm with the music as he watched the world burning in the other’sbugged out eyes. He stared thoroughly, purposely, hypnotizing his victimtowards his inevitable, hungry doom.

As soon as the music stopped though, with Phichit pantingheavily and letting out a brutal shout of victory for the whole place toacknowledge, all Viktor wanted was to grab his fiancé and make him take responsibilityfor the boner in the nearest toilet stall. However, Yuuri wasn’t having it.Hips still jerking and mouth dripping, he clang onto his shoulders andwhispered a slutty “not today” beforehe passed out on his lap

And that’s the night Viktor learnt not to underestimate theeffects of alcohol EVER again.

Why haven’t they kicked me out the fandom yet?