#like just fucking get some noise cancelling headphones please and let us eat in peace 😩

[anotherpapercut]

is there something in the boomer mind that makes them think it's acceptable to stare at you for an extended period of time when you are doing something they discern to be slightly out of the norm

[sincelastsession]

Oh to be a spoiled fat house cat, no thoughts, empty head, lounging on a paper bag.

Anyway I woke up to a lil video my partner sent me. It was the sounds of the beach and little birds looking out a window. Really peaceful.

He had to drive home straight to work after that.

I'm still in freeze. I tried to get a little bit done. I'm really pissed at myself because I wanted to leave and go places and get groceries but I can't get myself to leave so easy and didn't write a list and forgot to charge my headphones.

My mom ordered me some cheap as hell noise canceling headphones when I asked her not to because I've tried the military grade which I may have to go get. She's been nothing but nasty to me with her tone and it's just like in the book I'm reading. I'd called her late to chat with her about 5mins. She was wildly mean and wouldn't stop freaking out to let me speak and before I could speak she had flipped out thinking I was going to bring up my sister. Then I told her I wasn't and she ranted more. This predicting what I was calling about and making assumptions about me and lashing out continued and she kept threatening to hang up if I didn't tell her what I called about and fussing about how I never shut up. So I finally snapped and was like "can you please calm down and shut the fuck up and quit bitching at me so I can speak you've been NOTHING but nasty to me for no reason and you know I'm having trouble and you know bitching and yelling makes me have more issues so why are you doing that? Why are you holding a Grudge about how I had a bad voice tone and was having bad compulsory issues that made it look like I was mad which I told you I wasn't and it wasn't about you and more on you attacking me the entire time because your driving is scary and I mentioned that too much?" Like she holds grudges and resentment forever no matter how I try to explain my shit isn't directed at her unless I'm like "hey yeah I'm actually mad at you" so idk how long this call is going but my mom counts the minutes because it's clear that she only likes chatting with me on her time. In fact no one in the family has ever wanted to talk to me unless it's their insane terms. She kept bitching on the phone and I said what I needed to but didn't get an answer and was about to cry and told her "you know you and dad are EXACTLY like how this book I'm reading describes emotionally immature parents and I'm not perfect either but it's on point" and then she demanded the book name which I haven't given her because when my parents do read therapy books they use it against me and cherry pick.

So finally I have enough because she's still bitching and I never got the answer to the question and I was so anxious I needed to go throw up. (Not in the eating disorder way, I was very anxious and literally couldn't stomach the stress)

I told her " You know what I'm not your parent and I'm hanging up"

This is not the worst interaction we've had it's just a typical one.

The amount of dumb bullshit that could be avoided if my parents just educated themselves on my mental and physical health issues or just LISTENED to my experiences is STAGGERING.

I know I can't make them do anything. I'm not going to let them treat me like shit though then bitch when I have enough and flip out back at them. It doesn't seem to matter what I do or how or my wording or tone they are ready to attack me.

I'm sure I do lots of shitty things too and guess where it came from? But I'll admit it and work on it and they fuckin do not care enough about me to treat me correctly.

I'm not trying to control them. They act so paranoid. I'm just trying to teach them about me and how to treat me.

They think they're normal and that other families are terrible too.

I know most of my friends have pretty chill normal families. I've heard thier drama and it's like "wahhh mom raised her voice at me because I did a dumb thing"

I'm not treated like an adult fully. I'm an autistic adult with ocd adhd and cptsd and I need accommodation and understanding and to be given cues and met at least part of the way if not half. But im treated like I'm trying to ruin their lives. It HURTS.

Sometimes I don't feel bad but 80% of the time I feel guilt and shame and I reflect and pick at everything I do that's wrong.

I was a parentified child clearly because I felt like more of an adult as a kid than I do as an adult now. Things that didn't bug me back then are scary and challenging now.

My parents haven't emotionally matured and neither has my sister. I've seen her fiancé's snap chat and she's not really happy and it's fake and I can tell. Like honestly I wish I'd had a body cam for various parts of my life just to show therapists and doctors. They're all such good actors.

I don't understand.

[whumper-boi]

Could we see Dog and Whumpee cuddles??? 🥺🥺

Of course 🥺

(I had to Google the definition of void and it deleted my first response so I had to put my phone down and just go to bed🤠🔫 so sorry about the wait)

(Also this isn’t exactly what I think you had in mind, but I don’t have much experience with cuddling dogs [mine just huffs at me and dips] so I hope this is good enough)

They knew it wasn’t going to be a good day when they woke up terrified at the sound of the alarm, and flinched when Caretaker handed them their breakfast.

“Nope. There is no way in hell I’m going to leave you here like this Whumpee.” Caretaker already had their phone out, clicking through it. “I’ll just cancel the meeting.”

Whumpee sighed, putting the fork down in the food they weren’t going to eat. “Caretaker, you said it yourself, this meeting is one of the most important events of your career. Don’t let me ruin that.”

They lowered their phone slightly, giving Whumpee a soft look. “There is nothing more important then you. If I have to go, fucking, shove a boiled egg down the Queen’s throat for you, then so be it.”

Whumpee frowned. They really didn’t want to get in Caretaker’s way, especially since they were doing everything for them. “Caretaker,” they said, pushing the phone down gently. “I’ll be fine-“

“But-“

“Go to your meeting. Maybe some time alone is what I need.”

Caretaker looked unconvinced. “That’s never been the case before.”

“Well maybe it’ll change.” They put a hand on Caretaker’s. “Please? For me?” They made a puppy dog face, one they knew they couldn’t refuse.

Caretaker sighed. “Alright Whumpee.” They stood up, taking Whumpee’s untouched plate and putting it in the kitchen.

On their way out, they kissed Whumpee’s forehead, petting their dog who just got up. Recently, the dog had been laying in bed with Whumpee after they came back from the hospital.

Caretaker, before, had always been reluctant to let pets on the furniture because of hair, or smell, but after... the incident... the dog was allowed anywhere that Whumpee would be.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay lovebug?”

Whumpee nodded, holding their arms out for Caretaker to pull them into a hug.

“I love you,” they said, face muffled in Whumpee’s hair. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Love you too, and I will.”

“I’m serious Whumpee, I’ll tear this city apart for you.”

“I know.” Caretaker pressed another kiss to the top of their hair. “[Dog], protect my baby.”

The dog wagged their tail, rubbing their snout into Caretaker’s leg. They smiled, opening the door to reveal what looked like the start of a thunderstorm.

Whumpee felt themself pale. Thanks to Whumper, they had a deeprooted fear of lightning and thunder.

Caretaker turned around, eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay back doll?”

Whumpee swallowed painfully, then put on a brave face. “I’m okay, Caretaker. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Alright, bye my love.” They closed the door.

After locking the door, Whumpee turned to their dog. “Alright [dog], it’s just you and me, you know what time it is?”

The dog looked at the leash hanging next to the door, wagging their tail quicker.

“Nope. It means I’m going to be able to do self destructive habits in peace, and you’re not going to snitch.” They stroked the back of the dog’s ears, then pulled on them.

They walked into the living room and immediately went back to sleep on the couch.

——— (TW ed)

They’d been asleep for around forty five minutes until they’d been woken up but the painful emptiness of their stomach.

They saw their uneaten breakfast on the counter and glared at it, putting it on the floor for their dog.

After sitting and sniffing at it, the dog looked back up at Whumpee.

“What? Don’t tell me Caretaker drugged it.” They picked it up, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. They took a bite out of a piece of bacon, chewing and shrugging. “It taste fine to me.”

They threw it to the dog, who caught and ate it mid-air.

“Hm.” They offered another piece of bacon, which was rejected. They bit it, offering it again. The dog took it.

“Oh... I see.” This went on, the dog occasionally huffing at them when their bites got too small.

Whumpee didn’t realize that almost a third of the plate was gone, and they didn’t feel like throwing it back up. They gave a small smile, knowing caretaker would be proud of them.

“You’re my little partner in crime, aren’t you?” They rubbed their head and stomach, cooing praises to the dog.

———

Whumpee decided, why not do some chores for Caretaker? They already did plenty for them, so why not pay it back?

Whumpee did some laundry, being trailed by their dog for every piece of clothing he dropped (and they dropped a lot).

Dishes didn’t have much to it, but they did get barked at because they kept spraying their poor dog with the spray bottle.

This only made whumpee go on more of a tangent, chasing them around the house with a pink spray bottle, until they slipped and the dog got revenge by licking all over their face.

———

They had texted Caretaker, who wanted to make sure everything was going alright.

Whumpee asked about the meeting, (which was going good) asked if they could eat the entire tub of ice cream (no, because they’re not supposed to be eating too much dairy), and when they’re coming home, which would be at around four.

It was only twelve now.

Whumpee went into Caretaker’s room, waiting for their dog before closing the door and crawling onto the bed.

They preferred being in Caretaker’s room after a torrent of nightmares, and plus, their television was bigger.

The movie had been playing for about twenty minutes when Whumpee heard the first boom. They sat up quickly, noticing as the dog perked up from the foot of the bed.

The sound of heavy rain was clashing on the windows, terrifying crashing noises came from the outside.

They pulled out their phone, about to call Caretaker when they saw the text from around 16 minutes ago:

‘Going into the meeting now, love you’

They were just going to put their headphones on and try their hardest to ignore it, when another loud crush caused them to drop it and scream.

“No, no, no, no-“ they slammed their hands to their ears, a choked out sob rising in their chest.

Another crash.

Whumpee screamed, dropping and curling into a fetal position. “Stop! Please!” They begged to no one, finding it harder and harder to breathe.

They couldn’t breathe they couldn’t breath they couldn’t breathe they couldn’t breathe they-

A bark brought them back to the present. Their dog was circling around them, bumping them with their snout.

They wrapped their arms around the dog, trying to calm down their hectic breathing.

Another crash.

The dog has rested their head on Whumpee’s neck, licking their hands that were squeezing tightly around them.

They laid like this for a while, Whumpee flinching at every loud bang, and the dog just licked their hands, bringing them back to reality.

When Whumpee finally managed to get off the ground, they found themself staggering, unable to stand and walk properly.

This almost made them fall again, except that the dog stood next to Whumpee, allowing them to use themself as a support system. “Good [dog],” they said, staggering over to Caretaker’s bed and crawling in.

The dog sat by the side of the bed, watching Whumpee with curious eyes and a tilted head.

There was another crash of lightning, albeit quieter, but still making them flinch and cry out. The dog then braced, jumping up onto the bed and laying right next to whumpee.

They burrowed their head into their dog’s stomach, covering their ears and trying to ignore the storm raging on outside.

“Thank you buddy,” they said, curling around the dog.

———

When Caretaker finally got the door closed, (thanks to the wind making it hard), they noticed that Whumpee wasn’t in the living room like they expected.

“Whumpee, baby, I’m home!” There was no response. This wasn’t too much of a concern for them, as whumpee could be taking a shower or listening to music.

They moved into the kitchen, noticing the plate which was obviously missing some of the substance on it.

Caretaker nearly cried right then and there. Whumpee was eating.

Walking around, they found a spray bottle on the floor, some socks laying around, and just other clues that someone had been doing stuff.

Caretaker went upstairs, intending to just bring their stuff up, when they heard the TV playing in their room.

“Whumpee, are you... oh.” Curled up on their bed was whumpee, wrapped around their pet dog.

The dog was up, watching Caretaker lay their stuff down.

“Thank you for watching them [dog].” They pet the top of their head, kissing whumpee on the forehead.

[archadianskies]

19 + 18 + 17, Simarkus!

(soulmates + tattoo artist + skin hunger)

→ on Ao3

It isn’t the flashiest, slickest tattoo parlour but for Simon and Daniel ‘Jericho’ is the place where they can truly be free. It’s a place that’s all theirs, a place they carved out with hard work, with blood, sweat, and tears- so so many tears. 

At first it had been just the two of them, as it had always been ever since they were sixteen and kicked out by their parents, and then Josh joined them, and then North, and since that day they have been known as the Jericho Four. They each have a speciality: Daniel specialises in painterly techniques, of colourul swathes that washed over the skin; Josh specialises in minimalism, of crisp, strong black lines; North specialises in text, of a thousand fonts at the ready to speak their mind. 

As for Simon, well, Simon has never been good at any of that stuff. He’s much better at caring for others, at nurturing and soothing and so that’s why Jericho has a cafe inside of it. He cooks, he bakes, he brews for both the customers being tattooed and for any family or friends hanging around for support. Sometimes they don’t come in for a tattoo at all, and Simon finds himself serving students and workers on their lunch break. 

It isn’t ever going to make them rich, but it’s enough to get by comfortably and really, that’s all Simon could ever want. 

 “Got a pretty complex booking tomorrow.” Danny whistles low as he scrolls through the email on his laptop. Simon looks up from his book, interest piqued, and scoots closer to him on the couch. 

“Oh?” His twin tilts the laptop slightly, showing a beautiful geometric explosion at the heart of a glowing blue triangle, as if it were in the midst of shattering outward. 

“He’s asking for white ink for some of the lines, so it’ll glow under black light. This is a seriously massive piece.” Danny nods, impressed. “Multiple sessions, with extra surcharge for the white ink. He’s already sent the down-payment, so he’s definitely committed.”

“That’s a crazy amount of work.” Simon reaches over to click on the image so he can zoom in. “It’ll be stunning when it’s done. Where does he want it? On his back?”

“No, over his chest. The fragments will spill over onto his shoulder too.” Danny clicks onto the next image, of the design overlaid on a male silhouette. “I blocked off the entire afternoon for this.”

“Then you better rest up.” Simon taps his temple. “Big day tomorrow.”

 It’s a slow going day but Simon loves those best. It’s even raining outside, which only adds to the soft cosy mood inside Jericho. With no other clients booked except for Danny’s new one, Simon finds himself sitting at a table with the other three sharing a freshly baked pear tea cake. The tattooists have their sketchbooks out, and Simon loses himself to the sound of the rain and the scrape of their pencils. There’s some semblance of inner peace to be found, he thinks, just in these sounds. 

The door opens, and the muffled pattering of the rain turns into a roar momentarily as someone rushes in. Simon stands automatically, switching back into his hospitality role. 

“Good afternoon, welcome to Jericho.” He greets the hooded man neatly securing his folded umbrella.

“Hi, I’m a bit early for my appointment but I thought I’d come in out of the rain since I was around anyway.” 

“Mark S., booking with artist Daniel Lambert.” Simon nods. “Would like a coffee and something to eat while you wait?” The hood falls back and that’s definitely not some stranger named Mark S. “Oh you’re-”

“Markus Manfred.” Josh finishes behind him, standing in surprise. “It’s- wow. You’re really here. I saw your thesis at the Museum of Modern Art. I marched with you last Fall. I thought you were in London researching for your upcoming mural?”

“Just got in last night, actually.” Markus grins, offering his hand for Josh to shake. There he is, Markus Manfred, adopted son of Carl Manfred; artist and activist in equal measure. “A little jetlagged and still adjusting to the timezone, but I’m here in one piece.”

“You did that portrait series on the Eden Club workers.” North adds, offering her hand to shake.

“With my brother Leo, yes.” Markus shakes her hand firmly. “They needed a medium to tell their stories, and we were honoured to oblige.”

“So what’s the story about this tattoo, then?” Danny pulls up another chair to their table, and Markus takes a seat. 

“I want to build on one I already have. I want to make it mine, because the original wasn’t my design.” He shrugs, leaning back comfortably in the chair. “I actually intend to commission tattoos from each of you, to tell my story. I use cloth and brick walls as my canvas, but I want my body to be a canvas for you.”

“I don’t know if you’re being eloquent or cheesy as fuck, but this is the most interesting commission I’ve ever been given so I’ll let it slide.” Danny smirks wryly and Simon smacks his shoulder.

“Behave.” He turns to Markus, and this close he can see those famous heterochromic eyes. “Coffee?”

“Yes please. And a slice of whatever this cake is, if there’s any left.” Markus grins, tapping the closest plate. “Smells divine and I bet it tastes just as heavenly.”

 He’s seen a lot of half naked bodies. It comes with the job- not his in particular, but well, Danny’s and the fact the parlour is tucked just behind the cafe. Simon’s gotten used to seeing people in various states of undress, so used to handing nearly nude people coffees and slices of cake. 

He’s not ready for Markus Manfred to take off his sweater and shirt, revealing a body surely identical to the grandiose marble sculptures that used to grace the ancient world. Not wanting to delay his tattoo appointment, the artist had picked up his cup after finishing his cake, carrying it to Danny’s station at the back and promptly undressing. Simon doesn’t know why he followed, but his feet seemed to carry him after them.

“Fuck.” Danny exhales. “That’s a Kamski.”

Markus looks down at his chest, at the glowing circle at the end of his sternum. His grin is sheepish as he scratches his nape and takes a seat. “Yeah, it is.”

“No way, an original Kamski? Not a Camden?” North follows into the room, Josh behind her. “From before he left CyberLife?”

“Thirium ink. I thought I’d never see one up close.” Josh breathes, voice tinged with awe. “When he left CyberLife he took the formula with him. Their tattoos use an inferior ink with a lower thirium ratio.”

“Well we definitely don’t have pure thirium ink here, sorry bud.” Danny pats his shoulder and Markus laughs. 

“No, I know. I don’t want another tattoo like this one. I want one I designed.” Markus clarifies. “This is my story.” 

 Josh has a thousand questions, and Markus seems happy to answer them. Selfishly, Simon goes to the front door and turns the sign to say ‘Closed’, locking the door so no one else will disturb them. He makes another round of coffees and carries them to the back. Danny has his noise-cancelling headphones on to tune everyone out so he can work. Josh has dragged his chair closer, and North is sitting on her tattooist bench. Simon hands everyone a new cup and takes a seat at Josh’s vacated bench.

“Do you think we’ll ever reach that stage though? Artificial intelligence that can think for itself?” Josh asks curiously and Markus hums in thought.

“I think so. It’s the issue with making them look human, though. The moment we make androids is the moment we divide the world.”

“What do you mean?” North frowns. “Wouldn’t that, I dunno, be a good thing? People get attached to roombas. What more when there’s robots that look like us?”

“That’s what I mean though.” Markus clarifies. “Half of us would anthropomorphise them, and the other half would reject them completely, unable to bridge the fact they are different from us. Humans find it hard enough to treat each other with compassion, what more when there’s an android that looks just like them but is a machine?”

“Then I suppose an android revolution would happen.” North shrugs with a laugh. “If we ever treated them like shit, then we’d deserve the revolution coming for us.”

“I don’t believe it would come to that, I believe we are an intelligent, compassionate race.” Josh argues. “We would achieve integration and acceptance through dialogue.”

“And you- Simon, isn’t it?” Markus turns his head slightly to catch his gaze. “Where do you weigh in, in this theoretical android revolution?”

He wrings his hands, frowning. “I wouldn’t really ever want to take part in it.” A confession of cowardice, but an honest one at least. “I’d just want those I love to be safe. I’d- I’d go somewhere and wait it out, I guess. But if they needed help, I’d help them. I’m not sure how I’d help with caffeine and baked goods, but...I suppose if they needed a place to stay, a place to hide I could give them that much.”

“He’s a softie.” North pretends to ‘whisper’, shooting Simon a grin. “But he’s got grit, and will get the job done.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Markus smiles at him, and Simon, honest to god, hand over heart, swears the world slowed for just a moment so he could enjoy it. “Kindness in the face of a cold, cruel, apathetic world is an act of bravery, of defiance.”     

 They talk and they talk and Simon loses track of time until Danny takes off his headphones.

“Ok Christ I need a pee break.” He bins his gloves and makes shooing motions at Markus. “Go on, you too, before I start the next part.” He leads him away and North crosses over to sit next to Simon, elbowing him.

“I’m a flaming homo but that boy is…” She clicks her tongue as she makes an ‘ok’ sign with her fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

“Who cares about that, he’s so-” Josh struggles to verbalise his thoughts, making a frustrated gesture with his hands. “He’s so beautifully compassionate and driven. He spoke at the protest I marched at, but only briefly. Hearing his thoughts, hearing his opinions here in private is just...something else.”

“Simon has stars in his eyes.” North teases, poking his cheek. He bats her hand away.

“I do not. I’m staring a healthy amount. Surely no one should look that beautiful and still be human, right?” He asks, exasperated. “He has freckles. Everywhere. He has the body of a marble statue. He speaks like a Roman orator. Or some Greek philosopher. He has one blue eye and one green eye for god’s sake, who let him loose on the world?”

“The more important question is,” North jabs his side, causing him to yelp “is he single?”

“Oh, yeah, because he’s going to be so interested in a coffee boy at a tattoo parlour.” Simon rolls his eyes. “I have so much to offer.”

“You do, Simon.” Josh frowns. “I do take offense to that. You’re a wonderful person, you gave North and I a chance when no one else would. You found us at our worst and helped us become who we are today.”

“Pretty boy would be lucky to have you.” North pecks his cheek. “I mean it.”

 They end up ordering Mexican because it’s already six o’clock the next time anybody checks and Markus seems content to stay a little longer. Somehow in the span of an afternoon he feels like he’s always belonged right here in their little quartet. Even if he’s sitting there half naked with cling film wrapped taut around his freshly inked chest and shoulders. 

“Ok Danny,” North fixes him with a serious look, “important question: where do you stand in the android revolution?”

“In the-” Danny makes a face. “Is this the shit you guys were talking about while I was working?”

“Well not the whole time.” Markus laughs. “Though I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

“I dunno. Would we be able to afford one?” Danny scoops salsa onto a chip and pops it into his mouth. “I’d treat them well, I guess. Make ‘em feel part of the family. If you treat them badly, they could snap and then you’d deserve what’s coming to you.”

“We’re years- decades away from that kind of tech.” Simon shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter right now.”

“It does.” Markus objects. “They might not be real now, or maybe not ever, but how we treat anything not human is a reflection of ourselves. They’re mirrors held up to test our humanity.”

“This is way too deep for Mexican on a Wednesday.” Danny declares through a mouthful of food. “Just putting it out there.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” He laughs, expression apologetic. “I swear I’m not like this all the time.”

“Pineapple on pizza?” North demands, pointing an accusing finger. “Wrong answer sends you out the door.”

“Can I abstain from answering until I finish my dinner?”

“I’ll allow it.” A pause as she narrows her eyes threateningly. “But only just.”

 Markus Manfred takes a taxi home at about 8pm and Simon doesn’t quite know if any of it’s real, if any of it actually happened. It has to have happened, because there’s another session booked to occur in exactly three weeks. He loads the dishwasher as Danny takes out the trash, waving to Josh and North as they take their leave. Three weeks and Markus will return. How will he fill his time until then?

He doesn’t need to wait three weeks, in fact, because Markus comes back the very next day.

“Hey.” A greeting paired with a thousand kilowatt smile, easy and charming. 

“Good morning Markus.” Simon blinks in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Is something wrong? Did you need Danny to have a look at the tattoo? Is it bleeding too much?”

“Actually,” he grins and oh it’s far too early for Simon to process such a sight “I was hoping for a cup of coffee and some breakfast?”

“Oh.” He nods numbly. “Y-yes of course. What can I get for you?” 

“Strong black with honey, and something bread-y.” Markus takes a seat at one of the tables. “I thought I’d get some work done here. It’s wonderfully private.” A nice way of saying it’s not a bustling Starbucks, Simon thinks wryly, but he’ll take it. He serves him a large mug of coffee and a thick slice of banana bread and tries not to stare too much at Markus’ elegant hands as he takes out a sketchbook and thumbs through it idly. 

“What gave you the idea of this tattoo?” Simon asks curiously as he spots early sketches of the tattoo design. He takes a seat opposite him, nursing his own large mug of coffee.

“I wanted to shatter through the wall of self-doubt, of anxiety that held me back.” Markus smiles softly, eyes roaming the page. “Growing up in Carl Manfred’s shadow wasn’t easy but a lot of it was all in my head. Dad has never been anything but encouraging to us, as Leo and I both branched out on our own artistic journeys. What held me back was my own fear to leave the safety of his name and stand on my own.”

“Shattering the red wall.” Simon nods slowly. “I guess we all have that moment, don’t we? A moment where we have to decide whether to stay behind it where we’re safe but also changeless, or fight and shatter it, to find our own way.”

“Did you have one, Simon?” He seeks his eyes with such an earnest expression. “A moment where you had to choose to shatter the red wall?”

“We didn’t have much choice.” A heavy sigh. “It was shattered for us, by our parents. We got kicked out at sixteen, and there was no red wall left to hide behind safely. We only had each other, and the only way was forward.”

Markus reaches over and squeezes Simon’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” He says with such sincerity Simon believes it. 

“It’s alright. Jericho is where we can be truly free.” He smiles tiredly. “This place is everything to us, and Josh and North are like family. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Why call it Jericho?” Markus picks up a pencil, turns to a blank page and starts sketching.

“It was the name of an old freighter.” It’s been almost fifteen years, Simon thinks, but the memory is still sore. “We hid there for a while, when we didn’t have anywhere to go. It was falling apart but it was dry and safe. It was home.” And now home is here, home is just upstairs and it’s dry and safe but also warm and full of love. Simon props his chin on his palm. “Feels both like a lifetime ago and just yesterday, to be honest.”

“Grief and trauma are not linear experiences.” Markus shakes his head, eyes candid. “What you experienced at sixteen will always be valid. Our growth is measured in how we cope with that pain, with all we’ve learned over the years.”

It stuns him to hear it, and he feels his mouth open and close as he tries and fails to reply with something coherent. Markus scratches his nape sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I? Sounding like some cheesy self-help inspirational poster.” 

“I’ve just never been told that before.” Simon admits, smile wobbly. “I guess I’m just so used to taking everything in stride and carrying on. I bury everything deeply, in the hopes I never really have to process it.”

“Then it just rots, Simon.” Markus reaches out again, placing his hand over his and giving a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no chance for growth if the roots are rotten.”

He looks down at their hands, and it’s as though his heart wants to soak up the contact, wants to drink it in as though he’s parched. It’s not as though he lacks affectionate touch, they’ve always been an affectionate quartet of friends, but it’s more like he can never get enough. Markus very gently rubs the back of his hand with his thumb in slow, light strokes. Heat pools in his cheeks.

“I’m alright now. I’m much much better here.” Simon smiles, and though it’s a little shaky it’s real and heartfelt. “I’m happy and I’m safe, and we’re financially secure, so what more can I ask for?”

“I’m glad.” He says, and Simon knows he means it.

 Though he knows it’s selfish, Simon finds himself hoping Markus will drop by for breakfast often. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to him, and his heart leaps into his throat every time the handsome artist opens the door and strides to the counter with confident, purposeful steps. He always has a kind word for all of them, always has a brilliant dashing smile and Simon’s been very careful with heart over the years, but he’d be kidding himself if he said he wasn’t head over heels for Markus. 

“How’s the mural coming along?” He asks as he sets down a steaming mug of coffee.

“Pretty good. Most of the underlayer is down, but it’s forecast to rain for nearly the whole week so I’ve got to postpone it a bit.” Markus sighs wearily. “That’s alright. I’ve got another piece I’m working on in the studio, so I don’t really mind. How’s things here?”

“We had another customer with an original Kamski.” Simon tells him, and Markus raises his brows in surprise. “I know right? What are the chances of having two of you come within the span of a fortnight? She’s a ballerina. I’m pretty sure North’s in love with her.” 

“That would be Ms. Chloe Hersh.” Markus smiles. “I’ve met her only once at an art gala but she’s very lovely. She is the original Kamski. The recipient of the very first thirium tattoo.” 

“That’s amazing. How lucky we are to have the two of you stumble upon our tiny little parlour.” Simon muses as Markus laughs softly. 

“Simon we didn’t find this place out of luck, we sought it out.” He says knowingly, as if it’s always been a fact Simon overlooked. “There’s talent here, and warmth and kindness and really good coffee and the most amazing tea cakes ever.” He finishes with a wink, and Simon knows he’s absolutely done for.

*~* 

When Markus arrives for his second session, there’s barely any preamble before he’s hanging up his coat and stripping off until he’s shirtless. The linework has healed, meaning Danny can progress with the colour. Simon sets down his coffee and a berry muffin on the little table by chair, and tries his very best not to stare. 

“We dropped by Greektown to see the mural yesterday.” Josh says from across the room. “It’s coming along beautifully.”

“Thanks.” Markus smiles. “Weather finally cleared so I’ve been trying to cram in as much as I can before it turns bad again.”

“You’re doing the backdrops for the ballet next, right?” North hops up onto her bench. “Chloe told me.”

“Yeah, it’s my next project and my brother is doing the promo shoot for it.” He settles into position, taking a gulp of coffee before Danny guides him to stay still so he can begin. “It’ll be fun, it’s a modern Anna Karenina.”

“Small world huh? Or maybe you Kamski originals are all like, telepathic because of the fancy ink.” North teases, and Markus chuckles.

“Oh no you’ve figured it all out. That’s the real reason Elijah Kamksi invented a new ink- to make a group of improved humans.”

“I’d believe it.” North snorts back a laugh. “His house looks like a supervillain lair.”

They fall into easy conversation, and Simon leaves occasionally to serve a customer at the front or bring more drinks and food. North eventually moves off to start working on a client, and Josh finishes his final session on another. 

It’s as the afternoon is winding down that Simon starts to see the small telltale signs of pain on Markus’ face. Over the sternum is one of the most painful areas of the body given the thinner layers of fat, muscle and skin and as Danny moves to start layering the colour, sweat begins to bead on Markus’ forehead as his brows pinch together. 

Automatically Simon reaches for his hand, returning the reassuring squeeze he’d given him the week before. Markus tilts his head slightly and gives him a grateful look, grip tightening the longer Danny works over the sensitive area. 

“Hey, you’re doing great.” Simon murmurs, mimicking his earlier actions as he rubs his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. “And it’s looking beautiful too. It’s all worth it, I promise.”

Markus nods numbly, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as Danny progresses further down his sternum. Simon doesn’t leave his side, and it’s only when Danny sits back and removes his headphones does he realise he hasn’t let go of his hand either.

 They order burgers and fries from a diner not too far away, Markus joining them for dinner after the parlour is closed. With each visit it feels less and less like he’s a stranger and more as if he’s family. 

Discussions and conversations flow, and he’s interesting and verbose even if tonight he’s a little more tired than usual: a marathon tattoo session definitely does that to a person, and Danny is much the same. When he’s wiping down the table, he sees Danny pull Markus aside just before Markus leaves. He says something, his expression serious, and Markus nods solemnly before leaving to catch his taxi.

“Did you tell him about the aloe vera?” Simon asks as his twin brother returns to his side to help him clean up.

“Uh yeah. Definitely needs a higher level of care this time around and I told him to send me photos if his skin acts up so I can tell him what it’ll need.” Danny shrugs, not bothering to hide his yawn. “Next session will be the last unless he wants further detailing.”

“I think it’s your best work yet.” Simon compliments, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I mean it.”

“Thanks Si.” Danny smiles tiredly, bumping his forehead to his. “C’mon. Dying to go upstairs and sprawl on the couch with a beer.”

 *~*

He hopes like last time Markus will appear for breakfast, but it’s not to be. He tries not to get his hopes up, tries not to look too eager every time the door opens. Markus doesn’t stop by for over two weeks, in fact, and Simon tries not to feel despondent as the days go by without his presence. 

The mural for Bellini Paints at Greektown is announced as complete on social media, and they go to see it during lunch on a sunny Tuesday. It’s a beautiful piece, taking up an entire wall at the entrance to the arcade where Bellini is housed. Sweeps of colour streak across the brickwork in graceful arcs, coming together to form a pair of hands holding a palette and paintbrush; a work of art about a work of art in progress. Simon thinks it’s stunning, and the sheer scale of it is enough to leave him awestruck. He takes a photo and sets it as his background, so he can admire the colours whenever he wants.

When Markus arrives for his final session, he brings a large canvas with him. It’s covered with a sheet, and tied carefully with twine to secure it.

“Hey, Simon.” His smile has an apology in it. “Sorry I haven’t dropped by recently. It’s been pretty crazy trying to finish the mural and I had this other project on the side.”

“We went to see the Bellini mural yesterday, it’s stunning.” Simon finds himself smiling wistfully. “The colours are just so vibrant, it suits the store perfectly.”

“Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it.” He holds out the canvas. “This is for you.”

“...For...me?” Simon gawks at him, unmoving. Markus Manfred is handing him a canvas. Markus Manfred. The artist leans in.

“That means you have to take it from my hands, Simon.” He ‘whispers’ and Simon scrambles to take the canvas, laying it down ever so carefully on one of the tables so he can unwrap it. It’s a painting of Jericho, of his family; there’s Danny, there’s Josh, there’s North and yes, even him. It’s a beautiful flurry of colours and exaggerated brushstrokes, and they’re crowded around a table eating tea cake and drinking coffee, with sketchbooks laid around.

“When I first came here, it was like coming home.” Markus lays his hand over Simon’s and it’s only belatedly that he realises he’s shaking. “I felt welcomed, and I felt at peace. I felt like I’ve always been here. That’s the magic of this place, Simon. That’s your magic.” 

“Markus I- this is too generous, I couldn’t possibly-!”

“You can. I painted this for you.” Markus moves to hold his other hand too, coaxing him to face him. “Because you are the heart of this place. You may not have had a choice to break through your red wall, but you persevered. You are so much stronger than you think, Simon.”

The tears come even though he gave them no permission to, and Markus gently draws him into a comforting embrace. Over the years he’s only ever had Danny, and more recently Josh and North. There was never any time to dwell on the hurt, there was and is only the path forward; if he stopped for even a moment to think back on what he survived it would swallow him up. To have Markus affirm his strength, to have him acknowledge the pain and his progression is far too much for him to process. 

“Did you make my brother cry?!” Danny demands, appearing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. ���What the fuck did you say to him?!”

“Danny, look.” Simon wipes his eyes clumsily, pulling back a little in Markus’ arms so he can point at the painting on the table. “Markus painted this for us.”

“...You what?” Danny’s brows nearly disappear into his hairline as he spots the canvas. “Is this- are you for real?”

“I mean, well, yeah. It’s real and I made it.” Markus grins sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make your brother cry though.” 

“...Holyshit. Uh. Wow. Thanks?” 

“It’s 3pm, shall we get started on my session?” Markus seeks his eyes. “Is that alright, Simon?”

“Oh! Yes, of course! Sorry I’ll um- I’ll cover this up and take it upstairs so it’ll be safe.” 

He has to hide upstairs for a good fifteen minutes just to make sense of what just happened. He’s holding an original Manfred in his hands, and gifted to him no less. It’s not just a pretty painting, it’s a work of art of his family, making it absolutely precious and priceless. He resists the urge to hug the canvas to his chest, instead laying it on the coffee table before returning downstairs to the parlour. 

Danny’s already started, headphones on and brows creased in concentration by the time Simon brings in a tray of coffees and some black tea and honey cupcakes. Markus offers him a slightly pained smile, and Simon immediately sits beside him and holds his hand.

“Would you” Markus flicks his eyes over to make sure Danny isn’t paying attention “like to go to dinner with me on Friday?”

“...I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, does Friday not work for you? Wait, the parlour’s open longer on Friday nights, sorry.” Markus nods in understanding. “How about Saturday?”

“No I- I’m- the- Friday is- I mean, you’re...asking me to dinner?” Simon stammers, feeling his cheeks flush as Markus strokes his thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m certainly not asking Daniel.” He cocks a brow, grin mischievous as Simon feels his cheeks grow hotter. 

“Um Friday is fine. I’d love to.” He frowns. “I can’t believe you’re asking me out to dinner while my brother holds a very sharp object against your skin.”

“He already knows. He threatened to stab me if I ever broke your heart.” Markus admits, and Simon realises that’s what Danny must’ve said to him last time right before he left. “Which is fair, really. If I ever broke your heart I’d deserve that. But I’ll do my best to look after it very well, I promise.” 

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” Simon finds himself unable to stop smiling. Markus brings their clasped hands to his lips, kissing Simon’s knuckles.

“I’m really looking forward to- ow!” Markus yelps as Danny applies just a little more force than necessary.

“Don’t flirt with my brother until I’m done.” Danny orders, voice a little too loud to compensate for the music blaring in his headphones. He fixes Markus with a stern glare, and Markus nods obediently. “Good. Now stay still.”

*~* 

The finished piece is spectacular, truly Danny’s best work. The lines are crisp, the colours are vibrant, and it’s really as if the shards are exploding outwards from the ghostly outlined blue triangle. It’s taken just over a month to heal properly, with luckily only minimal scabbing. 

Simon admires the work, watching it come alive with each inhale and exhale, with each rise of fall of Markus’ broad, toned chest; a boy breaking out of his father’s shadow to forge his own path as a man of his own making. He traces the triangle carefully with his finger, touch featherlight. Markus hums, a small sound in the back of his throat as his lips curve upward in a lazy smile. 

“Tickles.” He mumbles, capturing Simon’s hand and bringing it to his lips so he can press kisses to his fingers. Opening his mismatched eyes, he blinks at Simon sleepily before rolling over and pulling him flush against his body. They’re delightfully, sinfully bare beneath the covers, legs tangled, and it’s somehow still almost downright scandalous to Simon every time it happens. “Hey gorgeous.” 

“Good morning, my love.” Simon greets in return shyly, and Markus smiles at those words, pressing their mouths together one, twice, thrice insistently. It’s a hungry, desperate beast, this thing called love; selfish and needy and somehow never sated but that seems to suit them just fine. They’ll drink each other in and drown wholly, completely, in the wonderful chaos; two halves of one whole. 

This is the freedom they found, this is the freedom they earned, and the red wall lies in shards at their feet.     

*~*~*

(Markus’ tattoo is similar to this, something like the moment when androids deviate in the game)

[kricketwritesstories]

Title: Pack Your Bags Cause We’re Getting Married

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters: Bucky, Reader, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Tony

Summary: Bucky finally gets up the courage to confess his love for the Reader...but she's already engaged?

Bucky felt positively giddy as he left his apartment this morning. After a long bro to bro talk with Steve that lasted until the wee hours of the morning, it was decided.

Today was the day he asked Y/N to be his girlfriend.

From the moment they met, Bucky knew she was the one. It was like he was compelled to tell her everything; he couldn't help but open up to her. Her smile lit up his world and her laugh made his heart soar. For the past six months he'd been trying to get the courage to ask her to be his. Every single time he'd try his mouth would go dry, his hands would sweat, and he ended up asking her, "How about that local sports team?"

He'd done this so many times that Y/N had taken to answering him, "I hear they eat their young."

Rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously at his cowardice, she would laugh and so would he because dammit that laughter was infectious!

He took a deep breath as he approached her door. It took him by surprise to find the door open. Stealthily he positioned himself in the doorway. Y/N was sprawled out on her bed curled on her side facing the door. She took no notice of Bucky's presence because her eyes were focused on her phone. Her face was tinged pink and she was grinning like an idiot. Bucky sighed and leaned in the doorway watching her. It was a dreamlike moment until he heard a Scottish voice on the other end of the phone proclaim, "Pack your bags, cause we're getting married!"

Y/N squealed and rolled on to her back, her eyes never leaving her phone. Bucky felt his heart shatter into a billion pieces.

"If he doesn't think you're the right size because your thighs touch or your curves aren't in the 'right places' fuck that! You're a champion! You're amazing the way you are, and remember size doesn't matter if 90% of your dick is your personality," he continued.

Bucky couldn't stand to hear anymore. He stumbled down the hallway towards the elevator. When he reached the common living room he threw himself on the couch and turned on the TV, Sam, Steve, and Nat stopped talking.

"Buck," Steve said carefully, "how -"

"CAN'T A GUY WATCH," he paused and took a good look at the TV, "JAKE AND THE NEVERLAND PIRATES IN PEACE?!"

"Shit," he thought to himself, "of course it's still on the channel we had on last night while we babysat Clint's kids."

He stared at the TV as he thought back to the night before. For some reason, outside of Nat, Clint's kids loved having Y/N and Bucky babysit them. He let Lila braid his hair while Y/N played pirates Cooper. The ended the night all piled on the couch watching Disney Junior. His heart ached remembering the sight of baby Nathaniel cradled in Y/N's arms. He dared himself to imagine briefly that this was their family, and now all those hopes were obliterated.

Sam leaned over and whispered to his fellow Avengers, "Is Snow Miser seriously watching Disney Junior?"

"Maybe he really doesn't like Captain Hook, that sneaky snook," Natasha joked.

"Something must've went wrong when he tried to," Steve started to muse before he realized he was talking out loud.

His face went beat red and he prayed the other two didn't hear him. Well, his prayers weren't heard but his words sure were.

"Oh my God, did he try and ask Y/N out again," Nat said hopefully.

"Please, I'm pretty sure his balls froze off from all the years in cryo - he's been trying for months and he just can't do it," Sam mocked.

"Come on guys, cut him some slack," Steve pleaded.

"Steve. He's a grown ass man watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates intensely - like he's going to miss a plot point," Sam pointed out.

"Good afternoon everyone," Y/N greeted cheerfully.

"Good woah," Sam stuttered.

Typically Y/N wore oversized fandom t-shirts with zip-up hoodies, ripped up jeans, and a pair of beat up converse. Everyone knew she had confidence issues when it came to her body. It didn't matter that everyone called her 'cute' and 'adorable,' she wanted to be sexy and she didn't think she could be with the body she had.

Today, her confidence was through the roof. She wore a maroon off the shoulder lace top that hugged her curves, a black skater skirt, and open toed heals. Her make up, while usually natural, was done a touch more dramatic. Her E/C eyes were practically glittering with happiness.

Bucky refused to look from the TV, even despite Sam's reaction. He could feel bitterness tighten in his chest.

"Well, well, well," Nat said impressed, "what's the occasion Y/N?"

"Didn't she tell you," Bucky said bitterly unable to control the words that spewed from his mouth, "she's engaged."

Steve spit out the coffee he was drinking, drenching Sam in the process.

"Nice," Sam said curtly as he stood up to go clean himself off.

"I didn't think you were even seeing anyone," Natasha said as she looked cautiously between Bucky and Y/N.

Before Y/N could answer Bucky, still staring at the TV, started ranting, "Oh well it's because it's some Scottish guy she's seeing on her phone with that head seeing thing."

He was silent for just a few moments, but Y/N just couldn't get her words out she was so taken aback.

"Also I'll have you know," he shouted causing everyone to freeze, "that I've always thought your curves are sexy and beautiful. I've never thought they weren't in the right places. Your body, your face, your personality - it's all perfect to me."

Y/N couldn't will herself to breathe let alone move a muscle. Even Sam was stock still with paper towels bunched in his hands, he still hadn't made a move to clean the coffee off of himself.

"And another thing," Bucky shouted louder, his voice cracking, "I'll have you know that my dick is huge - and none of it has to do with my personality - and that it was that size even BEFORE the super soldier serum!"

"What fresh hell," Tony said confused as he walked into the awkward scene, "why is Terminator talking about his gun size?"

"James," Y/N said with a cautious yet amused tone, "were you at my door this morning?"

"I may have been walking by," Bucky admitted grumpily.

"So you heard Daniel -," Y/N started.

"What kind of fucking punk ass name is Daniel," he snapped, voice dripping with jealousy.

"Who the hell is Daniel," Tony said confused.

"Y/N's Scottish fiancé," Bucky spat bitterly.

"Daniel Euan Henderson," Y/N said in a strained voice.

"Y/N Henderson, huh," he said curtly, "well I hope you two are very happy together. I'm sure we'll miss you on the team."

"Y/N's leaving the team," Tony questioned in horror.

"- is a YouTuber," Y/N attempted once again to continue.

"Wow...what an exciting job," Bucky taunted, "someone who films themselves talking about shit is so much better than one of earth's mightiest heroes."

"Y/N is marrying a YouTuber," Tony asked as his confusion kept climbing.

"- who films himself talking to girls," Y/N tried yet again.

"Hmm he sounds real faithful there, good pick," Bucky said stubbornly while his eyes were still glued to Jake.

"- to help encourage them about their body image," Y/N explained as she finally was able to move herself forward.

"Well clearly it's working for you, sweet cheeks," Tony noted winking as he took in Y/N's appearance.

"I've been watching him for months now," Y/N continued ignoring Tony's comment.

"Oh wow," Bucky said hurt, "you've been seeing him for months?"

"Watching," Y/N corrected, "to try and boost my confidence -"

"Well he proposed so I guess it worked," Bucky said sadly.

"So Y/N is getting married," Tony asked.

"OH MY GOD I AM NOT ENGAGED! I AM NOT SEEING ANYONE! I'VE BEEN WATCHING HIS VIDEOS TO GAIN CONFIDENCE SO I CAN DO THIS," Y/N screamed exasperated.

She stalked over to the TV, turned it off, and faced James Buchanan Barnes. The moment he finally looked at her, he couldn't breathe. All jealousy and animosity flew from his mind and all he could think was how exceptionally beautiful Y/N was.

Steeling her nerves Y/N walked over to the couch. In one swift movement, before she lost her nerve, Y/N straddled Bucky's lap, placed her hands on his face, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Bucky's hands flew, one to hold the back of her neck and one to hold her waist, as he kissed Y/N back with abandon.

Y/N pulled back panting, and leaned her forehead against his. "So," she breathed, "how about that local sports team?"

Bucky's smile threatened to take over his whole face it was so big. "I hear they eat their young," he responded before kissing her again.

Natasha, Steve, and a still coffee soaked Sam all sighed dreamily as they watched the scene play out.

"What sports team eats their young and why do they have young in the first place," Tony cried out in horror, breaking the silence.

Bucky and Y/N broke their kiss because they couldn't stop laughing. They fell sideways onto the couch, still holding onto one another.

"To be clear," Y/N said seriously, "you're mine now, and I'm yours."

Bucky's eyes darkened at her words. "Also to be clear, I meant everything I said earlier," he said huskily as he glanced downward.

Y/N blushed furiously and buried her head in his neck to whisper, "I can't wait to find out myself."

In a split second, Bucky was on his feet and he threw Y/N over his shoulder. She squealed in delight as he carried her out of the room.

"You may want to invest in some noise cancelling headphones, Stevie," Bucky called back to his best friend and fellow floor mate.

Steve groaned, but couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "Well at least my ship has sailed," he sighed.

Sam gasped, "Look at you grandpa, using that young people lingo like a boss!"

"What the actual fuck just happened," Tony shouted as his eyes went wide and his hands shot out as if he was trying to keep his balance.

Nat walked over to him and patted his head sympathetically and promised, "I'll tell you when you're older."

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Housemates (Johnny)

I like to make it up to you, guys – here’s another installment of my Housemates mini-series featuring NCT members. Yes, you read it right – NCT, which means there might be members from other sub-units that you’ll get to read about soon.

Since I started with Mark, I’m going to continue with his funny and lovable hyung – Johnny Suh, also known as the Love of My Life. Just look how cute he is in the GIF below!

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

Summary: Like the first story, it was inspired by an Instagram post of NCT members as your roommates or housemates. This came from the second part.

If this piece can come with a subtitle, it would be: Essie Park is PMS-ing so bad, but deep inside, she appreciates what Johnny does for her. In short, she’s really grumpy here, and you might find her a bit annoying.

POV: 2nd person still.

Word count: 1,400 + words 

Warning: Since someone’s not in the mood here, expect a twinge of angst in one of the scenarios. But as always, this is fluffy and sweet as a cotton candy.

–––

When you and Johnny started as roommates, it was quite chaotic.

You woke Mark up, or whoever was sleeping in the other spare room, with the sound of plastic containers falling from the shelves. If not that, you were chucking them at the six-footer who seemed intent to annoy you by hiding important things on the high shelves.

“Younghooooo! Why did you put the remote control here?” You screeched, grabbing the device from the top shelf. “Are you planning to hog the telly all by yourself? Well, you aren’t!”

You jumped off from the counter and clutched the remote tightly. Johnny tried his best to hide his laughter, but he couldn’t. He loved seeing you annoyed because he knew he would be forgiven when he apologized with a lot of aegyo.

\\\

Your body clock was also ruined the longer you stayed at his place. “Let’s have lunch?” He asked from across the room as he rummaged the fridge for something to eat.

You looked at your phone’s watch and rolled your eyes. “Johnny, it’s quarter to 3 in the morning. Let me repeat: in the fucking morning. Are you out of your mind?!” You had already raised your voice in annoyance, but he was unbothered by it.

“I don’t find anything I’d like to eat here,” he said as he closed the fridge door. “How does Panda Express sound?”

“Whatever, dude. As long as you’re paying.”

\\\

While you were viewing your friends’ Instagram Stories on the couch, a notification popped up that Johnny sent you a message.

It was a snap of him winking with his hands clasped in front of him. Can you please get the carton of ice cream from the fridge? Let’s share it too~ was the caption that accompanied it.

You looked to your right and saw him intently watching a video on his phone. “What the hell, dude? Really?” You grumbled, which he ignored. His face was too close to the screen.

You shoved your phone in your pocket first before you got what was asked of you. It was a carton of ice cream good for sharing, and it was your favorite flavor – mint chocolate chip.

“Here you go, your highness,” you said, handing him the ice cream and a spoon. He paused what he was watching and patted the space beside him.

You obliged and ate the ice cream beside him. Eventually, you joined him in watching, and he pulled you close to him.

“Thanks, baby,” he said as you focused your attention on the subs on the screen.

“No problem. But next time, you can press pause and get whatever you need by yourself, okay?” You said without looking at him, your tone firm.

He responded by tightening his hold on you and kissing the top of your head.

\\\

There was a time that you were so tired and wanted some peace, but your housemate didn’t give you that.

Johnny decided to throw a surprise party by inviting some of your closest friends – Key, Ten, Taemin, Kai, Jaehyun, and the rest of their crew. The apartment was filled with handsome men, which isn’t bad, but you weren’t in the mood to interact with them at the moment.

You were speechless as Yuta took off your coat for you, and Jungwoo held your purse. “Come on in, princess! The party has just started!” Johnny greeted you, who was wearing a red velvet robe similar to what Hugh Hefner wore.

Your eyes narrowed to slits, and you folded your arms in front of you. “A party? You do know that I’m tired as fuck after coming home late for the past few days?” You hissed, making the tall guy approach you cautiously.

“I know, baby! But a little party never hurt somebody!” He tried to convince you by shaking his booty a bit, hoping that his party mood will rub off on you.

“Come on, Essie! Have some fun with us!” You heard Taemin say, waving to you with that bashful smile of his. You noticed that he held a glass of whiskey on his other hand.

His words made you reconsider, and later on, you were singing with Ten and Key on the couch, while Mark and Haechan laughed at how you butchered the song.

You saw in the corner of your eyes that Johnny was pleased. You gave him a thumbs-up, and he returned it with a wink as well.

\\\

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny! Some of us are trying to concentrate here!” You screamed, banging on the bathroom door.

Your housemate was singing ‘A Pocketful of Sunshine’ (a la Emma Stone in ‘Easy A’), and it was distracting you.

You were working on your sideline at the dining table, and you heard how grating Johnny’s voice was from where you were. You knew that he didn’t sound like that – he sounded angelic when sang – but there were times he liked to sing badly on purpose to annoy you or anyone else in the apartment.

Unfortunately, Mark was immune to his hyung’s 'bad' singing. “Just let him be, Essie noona,” he said, biting his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. If you were easy to annoy, the younger guy was easy to laugh.

“But he’s distracting me! I need to get my work done!” You whined, and at this time, Mark was getting teary-eyed from holding in his laughter. “You can borrow my noise-canceling headphones if you need some quiet time,” he offered, going back to his room to get them.

“There’s no need, Mark,” you heard Johnny say, “because I’m done.” A few seconds later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his bottom half. However, it was a bit too low for anyone’s liking – the outline of his pelvic bones were showing.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny! Can you raise that towel higher?” You complained, backing away from the bathroom. “Mark, I’ll still need those headphones, please!” You rushed back to the kitchen where your laptop was waiting for you.

Johnny chuckled at your flustered figure but did what you told him to once you were back on your seat.

\\\

After a devastating day at work, you just wanted to throw yourself on the floor once you arrived home.

The tears that you tried to contain spilled once you arrived at your doorstep. You cursed when you couldn’t find your keys. As you fumbled at your bag for it, you heard someone approach the door.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was and went in once the door was opened. You thanked the person almost inaudibly before throwing your bag on the couch and ran toward your bedroom.

Johnny was concerned and bothered at this sight of you.

He went to your room a few minutes after you have cried it out on your pillow. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked gently, approaching your curled-up figure slowly.

“Isn’t it obvious? Of course, I’m not,” you mumbled on the pillow, clutching it tightly until your knuckles went white.

“Essie, what’s wrong?” This time, he was sitting on your bed and stroking your back.

“A really bad day at work,” you replied, still not turning to face him. You didn’t want him to see your smudged makeup and puffy eyes.

You were surprised when he flipped you over to face him. You covered your face with your hands, so he doesn’t see how terrible you looked.

“Tell me about it,” he said, taking off your hands off your face as he pulled you towards him. You shut your eyes as he led you towards his chest.

“I’m just doing my job, but people at work have to be mean about it…” You started your story and eventually forgot that you were conscious of your face.

You saw him listening intently to your rant, and you felt your insides grow warm. It was nice and touching of your housemate to do this for you, even if you have been grumpy with him for the past few days.

Once you were done, he enveloped you in a hug and patted your back. “There are days like that, and there will always be people like that,” he said. “Let it all out, and then move on from it, okay?” He was stroking your hair, and this made you relax in his arms.

You stayed in this intimate position for a while, and you wondered if you will have more moments like this in the future.

–––

FIN