#maybe I should get a beer in solidarity

[phatcatphergus]

Obsessed with fullham just downing coronas

[horanghxnni]

college party. - k.s.y.

PAIRING: Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TAGS: meet cute, frat boy!soonyoung, f!reader, college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, just cute soonyoung being respectful

WARNINGS: cursing (two of 'em), implied mentions of drugs/violence against women (roofies), drinking/alcohol, frat/college parties

NOTES: I guess I'm in a meet-cute mood. This was inspired loosely by an experience I had at a party and I thought Soonyoung would be perfect for it. I hope you enjoy! xx

You really didn’t want to go to this party, it had already been a long enough week already and adding a hangover did not sound appealing, but your friends insisted this random frat party would not be as fun without you present. Giving in led you to be surrounded by drunk college students you barely knew, bodies close together as they danced to music you couldn’t hear your own thoughts over. Your friends were strewn throughout the crowd, all within view for safety, but clearly more focused on finding someone to take home tonight. You were about to make your way from the center to the kitchen to find a drink when a loud yell of excitement caught your attention instead as the song changed. 

“Oh, fuck yeah! I love this song!” It was a boy in the very center, clearly intoxicated as his eyelids sat low, almost closed, and the giant grin on his face was larger than life. You had seen him earlier, greeting people at the door a few hours ago. He was handsome, that you couldn’t ignore, with a nicely fitting button up shirt and jeans that accentuated his longer legs. His black hair that was presumably pushed back by hair gel was now breaking from its hold, strands falling into his face and draping over the tight undercut around the rest of his head underneath. He’s laughing and turning to everyone in his immediate vicinity, as if he was personally happy to see them all. It was sort of cute, how genuinely he cared for what could very likely have been strangers dancing around him as he stumbled drunkenly around asking people if they were having fun, and he’d kept up this energy all night as far as you could tell, it really was hard to miss his presence. The song was a classic song for people to get extra close to their target of interest, beginning to grind and press as the upbeat yet suggestive song bumped through the speakers. Then, he found his way in front of you. Something about his smile shifted as he reached out a hand, his eyes suddenly sparkled differently as they met yours. “Dance with me?” 

You could’ve said no, and maybe you should have, but something about how genuinely happy he was made him look like a harmless puppy. You took his hand with a curious smile, nodding. With a quick glance at your closest friend and a nod of solidarity, you followed this mystery man into the very center, several of his friends letting him pass with a pat on the shoulder and a, “Yo, Hoshi!” So that was his name, or you assume what he at least went by. 

You danced to a few songs, between pressing his body close behind yours, to wildly dancing to make you laugh, the next 5 or 6 songs blurred together before he paused and leaned his head toward yours. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want one?” He spoke near your ear so you could hear him, and you nodded. “Okay, wait here. I’ll be back.” 

About half a song later, he was back with an unopened can for you, and an open beer for himself. His smile was lopsided and innocent as he glanced at the top of the can and then to you. “Just wanted to show you I didn’t mess with it.” You raised an eyebrow as he opened the can in front of you and then placed it in your grasp. “I have a sister, and I know how crazy parties can get with roofies and shit.” 

He suddenly sounded almost sober as his gaze turned hard at the thought. Something about how his raw emotion at what he said made a small part of you trust he was being truthful, and you took a sip. “Thank you, for that.” 

Just like that, he was back to his grin, eyes softening as the beer began to hit his system and his posture loosened. “Of course! Let’s dance!” 

The rest of the night was spent by his side, dancing, laughing, and a few touches that seemed a little more than friendly, giving you the time to correct or reject each advance, which you didn’t. He was respectful and kind, never leaving you empty handed in the drink department, and even through his drunk haze, asked if he could hold your waist and continued to open every drink in front of you. It was the best party stranger experience you had, and despite your protests, you were glad you had come out tonight. Attention from the handsome boy that you may never see again gave you confidence you didn’t realize you needed and was a great way to end your stressful week. You left a few hours later when your friends had gathered you to leave together, and with a sweet pout from Hoshi, you both said your goodbyes and you left on a high knowing he was definitely watching you leave as you walked away from him and out of the party. 

_____________

Friday had rolled around again, and you declined yet another invitation to some party your friends had been invited to. You really couldn’t this week, with midterms on the horizon and studying that plagued the forefront of your mind. Your friends groaned beside you as you walked out of your last class of the day.  

“Maybe you’ll see that Hoshi guy again! C’mon, Y/N, please?” One pleaded as the other attempted her best puppy eyes. 

“Who even says I want to see him again? All we did was dance. I’m sorry girls, I really can’t.” Your friends accepted your final decision begrudgingly as you turned on the corner to walk to your apartment before a voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” You turned to see exactly who you’d never expected to see, running toward you, his friends now abandoned and clearly confused behind him. Hoshi stopped in front of you, a little out of breath, but with that same wide smile you recognize from last week, but with a clarity in his eyes unlike before. 

“Hoshi?” You were surprised he even remembered what you look like, much less remember your name after how much he’d had to drink that night. He looked bashful as you repeated his name, a hand coming to rub at the back of his neck as his smile turned shy. 

“It’s Soonyoung, Hoshi is just what the guys call me. It’s good to see you.” His eyes met yours, and they shifted from soft and friendly to a little harder around the edges, determination setting in his face. “Look, I, uh, I was hoping to run into you. I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime? Or boba or something?” 

“Are you asking me out, Soonyoung?” You questioned, a playful eyebrow raising in an attempt to hide your genuine surprise. He visibly brightened at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and his smile morphed into a wide grin. 

“Yeah,” he almost seemed shocked at the confidence emanating from him as he nodded, “yeah, I am, if that’s what you want.”

You could feel the laser-like stares of your friends a few feet behind you as they watched you once again with the handsome stranger from the party who now revealed themselves as Soonyoung, and you barely registered the hand that appeared to rest on your shoulder as one of them stepped up behind you. “She’s actually free right now, aren’t you, Y/N?” Her grin mirrored the Cheshire Cat, and was every bit as dangerous. 

Your face darkened as your confidence quickly disappeared as embarrassment replaced it, a cherry red coloring your cheeks as you nodded in agreement. Soonyoung didn’t seem to notice as he turned to wave off his confused awaiting friends a little ways behind him. You saw them shrug and wave their goodbyes as they continued to walk the way they were headed. You turned to your friends as they hugged you quickly before their less than nonchalant exit, not so quietly whispering “good luck” as they left you with the boy they’d been teasing you about all week. 

It took a moment of awkward smiling before you both gathered yourselves and agreed to walk together to a cafe nearby, entering a comfortable rhythm of small talk after a minute or two. Soonyoung was every bit as bubbly and sweet as he was the night you’d met him, and although he was less energetic, he was every bit the same deep down, inebriated or not. 

“You know, I’m surprised you recognized me, you were pretty blasted at that party.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. He looked sheepish once more for a moment before he turned to look at you with the most endearing look you’d seen. 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, of course drunk me was going to make sure I remembered you.”

[theemporium]

[1.5k] maybe being dragged out to the western bar downtown wasn’t all that bad when you have a pretty cowboy waiting for you to step on his toes.

.

You didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. 

And if you had, it would definitely not be spending Valentine’s Day in some random bar in downtown New York with all your friends, drinking fruity cocktails with themed names and pretending that you are all here for the exact same reason. 

Because you appreciated the sentiment and you knew they only meant well, but a girls’ night out on Valentine’s Day lost its solidarity when all the others were either in a relationship, talking to someone or happily married. Skipping out on one Valentine’s Day to spend it with their lonely friend made it feel more like a pity party convention rather than a fun night on the town. 

Not that you said that to them, and not that they would let you believe it if you did say it out loud. And maybe you really were just being dramatic, maybe you should have just enjoyed a night out being all dolled up and pretty because truthfully you couldn’t remember the last time you forgoed sweatpants on a night you usually had no plans for. 

But here you were, in a dress that was hidden in the back of your closet and heels that were already making you regret your choices for the night, and you pretended the drink you were sipping on didn’t cost an extortionate amount as you sat on the high chair, looking around the bar with curious eyes. 

You had never heard of the place considering it was on the opposite side of town from your apartment, but the place intrigued you. For the last two weeks, the whole city of New York had been buzzing with themed decorations, coloured hearts stuck to anything you could see and so much red and pink that it made you feel a bit overwhelmed.

But sat in this bar, there wasn’t a single heart or rose or balloon to be seen. 

Instead, the interior was something inspired by some old western movie with the saloon doors at every opportunity, wooden furniture and the smell of peanuts and whiskey being so strong yet so comforting. The speakers set up across the establishment played out old country songs that you didn’t even know the words to, but your eyes were always drawn back to the big space in the centre of the bar where strangers all stood, laughing and dancing away like some deleted scene from Footloose. 

It was mesmerising to see the way they all moved in sync, the way they knew the next step and the way they laughed and joked with one another as song after song played. As they exchanged beers and knocked shoulders like old friends when there was a high chance they were strangers to each other too. It made the bar almost feel…homely. 

“See someone you like?” your friend’s teasing voice slurred from beside you. 

You rolled your eyes as you turned back around to face the group. “I was just watching.” 

“I thought you’d like this place,” she hummed softly and smiled. “Plus, you’re always watching that dance movie with Miles Teller, thought you could find your own line-dancing hunk.” 

You couldn’t help but snort. “So you brought me here so I could have a Footloose moment?” 

Your friend’s grin widened. “Yep!” 

“You’re delusional,” you said with a shake of your head before you slid off your chair, subconsciously tugging on the end of your dress. “I’m gonna grab another drink, be right back.”

You manoeuvred yourself through the throng of drinkers and dancers as you made your way towards the bar, elbows leaning on the slightly sticky surface as you tried to signal down a bartender but the place was bustling and you could barely hear yourself think down here. 

You let out a sigh, turning to face the dancers once again as you decided to wait for the bartenders to get through some of the other orders before making your own. You watched as the people danced, stepping and sliding and doing all sorts as they stomped around the open space. You hardly even noticed the song coming to an end and a voice booming through the speakers. 

“Howdy cowboys, saddle up and grab a partner for a lil Valentine’s lovin’ dance!” 

You chuckled to yourself as the awful southern accent imitation echoed through the speakers before you watched people run around to grab their partners and tug them onto the dance floor. You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even notice the man approaching you until the warmth of his body was pressed against your side. 

“Can I have this dance, pretty lady?” 

You lifted your head to look at him, finding yourself a little speechless when you did. 

Your first thought was that this man was fucking gorgeous, that kind of pretty face that you see in movies or magazines. Your eyes drank up every single one of his features, unable to just pinpoint which one made your heart feel like it was racing in your chest. Maybe it was just a combination of all of them: the dark curly hair poking out of the cowboy hat, the soft stumble on his jaw and chin, the slant of his nose that you kinda just wanted to kiss up and down or the soft-looking lips that were pulled up into a mischievous smile, like he knew every damn thought that was running through your head right now. 

“What?” you finally spluttered out when you realised you had been doing nothing but ogling the man in front of you. 

“A dance?” he offered again and nodded towards the dance floor where everyone was getting themselves situated. 

“Oh, I can’t…dance,” you answered lamely, cheeks flushing pink in response as you looked between the pretty boy and the dancefloor. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he drawled and grinned down at you, the Australian accent much clearer in his voice despite the southern twang he tried to add to his words. “I’ve got you.” 

Before you could even dispute or turn down his offer, his hand was linked with yours and he was already pulling you towards the other dancers with something quite like a challenge glimmering in his eyes. Even if you wanted to, you didn’t think you could pull away from him, you didn’t think your body was capable of that. Plus, you were intrigued to see how this went. 

“You’re gonna make a fool of yourself dancing with me,” you told him as you stopped in a free space, looking up at the pretty stranger with a sheepish smile. 

“Then I guess we’ll be fools together, sweetheart,” he grinned back like that idea didn’t bother him at all.

“I’m sure there are people with much more experience who you could dance with,” you said with a smile because it was kind of hard not to smile back at him. 

“Yeah, but none of them are the prettiest girl in the bar, are they?” he retorted, almost quite smug as the pink hue on your cheeks darkened. 

“Do I at least get a name?” 

“Daniel.” 

“Well, I’m sorry in advance to your toes, Daniel.” 

When the music started, the dance was just as successful as you warned him it would be. You didn’t know the moves and Daniel could only help you so far before you were stumbling into other couples, apologising profusely before hiding your face against his shoulder as laughs racked through your body. 

“So, what brings you in here tonight?” Daniel asked over the music, his hand in yours as he twirled you around before pulling you closer to him once again. “Cause I have a small hunch this isn’t your usual shindig.” 

“My friends dragged me out,” you said with a shrug, letting out a small squeal when the boy dipped you, his loud laugh warming something in the depths of your stomach.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Galentine’s?” 

“Something like that,” you murmured, your hands gripping his shoulders as he stared down at you. Pretty boys like him didn’t talk to girls like you, and yet there he stood, looking down at you like you were the only girl in this damn bar. 

“Think your friends will be annoyed if I hog you for a little longer?” Daniel asked, something quite like hope glimmering in his eyes. 

“I think they can cope,” you replied with a smile, not quite ready to let your night with the gorgeous man stop just now. There was a buzz, a feeling you thought died when you were twenty-something and realising the world wasn’t as perfect as you thought it was. A buzz that you only ever assumed existed in books and movies. 

You didn’t wanna let go of that buzz, you didn’t want it to disappear. 

“Well then, sweetheart, you know the saying,” he spoke up, the southern accent thick and heavy as he pulled you towards him and plopped his hat on your head. 

You raised your brows in amusement. “And what’s that?” 

Daniel broke out into a grin. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

.

[wyattxabhrams]

Should he be surprised by the answer? Because he wasn’t. There was something about the place that suited Ryan. Were their relationship different, he might have quipped about Ryan being the new-age Thoreau, venturing out into the wilderness to find truth and peace. Now, he had no ground to stand on. Because that was precisely what Wyatt had come out to find too. And their relationship was not such that he could make easy jokes, even though he’d just done so. Especially because in the past, he would have rationalized Ryan’s proclivity for nature as just a character trait. Seeing Ryan now, eyes hardened and expression deadpan, Wyatt saw reflected the same escapism that he saw in the mirror every morning. There was a reason that Ryan chose to live out here like a recluse. One that another version of Wyatt would have already known. And one that this version would not ask, nor expect to be told.

Though the next surprise came in the form of an invite. To his home. To what Wyatt assumed was his sanctuary. He didn’t want people to come out here and find him. Like an intruder, Wyatt had stepped into his territory and likely ruined whatever plans he had. Just like Wyatt could say that Ryan had as well. The blond man had come keeping solitude and instead was faced with yet another disappointed and disgruntled ghost of his past. Ryan perhaps sought distance and separation from the town and certainly those like Wyatt. Yet both were put face to face. And unlike Wyatt, whose immediate response was flight, maybe Ryan’s was fight. Which was why his biting accusations had come out before his steps had retreated.

Following the other, he took in the house that he’d fashioned up for himself. How differently they were living life. If he had imagined them when they were kids, he would have pictured neighboring houses. After all, Wyatt was going to be the Mayor. And Ryan, maybe he’d have followed in his father’s footsteps as a pastor. The Abhrams and the Parrishes would have repeated the pattern of their parents’ generation anew. Leaning against the wooden spindles spanning his porch, he waited for the other to reappear with a beer. Moving to the seats, Wyatt’s gaze studied Ryan, whose words reminded him of their childhood once again. Of moments when Wyatt had sought the solidarity of a brother and Ryan’s words helped him weather the storms in his head.

Taking one of the beers, he agreed completely with the sentiment of course. The accusations, the guilt, the pity. He hated it all. Outside of Covington, he had a life of his own creation. The moment at he stepped foot in this town, he transformed right back into that stupid teenage boy that couldn’t outrun his father or his family legacy. Everyone saw Wyatt Abhrams, the son of the missing ex-mayor. And because it had been drilled into him from a young age, Wyatt could not help but maintain appearances, even when he couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about the man he was looking for. “I didn’t, but it’s a nice set up you have here. Is this considered glamping,” he said, taking a swig of beer and not directly addressing what brought him out.

With a deep breath, he leaned back against the wooden lawn chair, gazing up at the sky as though that would give him any clarity or answers. “It’s the worst kept secret that my,” he faltered. Wyatt did not want to claim Benjamin as his own. “That our father is missing. And there is only so many blowouts between our mother and Georgie I can take. So, I just needed to get out of the house.” | @ryanparrish

"I live here." Calm, cool, collected, curt. And, devoid of any further explanations. As if, Wyatt really cared for them though, right?

He wasn't asking because he was curious, or because he had any intention of catching up. The man standing before him may have resembled his brother, his long lost best friend, and his closest confidant but, this Wyatt was an imposter. A vacant shell of someone he used to know very well.

Ever since the blow out with Drew above their mother's grave, Ryan's resorted back to his reclusive ways. To his trailer in the woods, where he replayed conversations with his younger brother and Tess out in his head, over and over, and over again.

Until the stinging reality of both stoked the calamity that burned red hot in his chest and kept him awake for days. He couldn't keep torturing himself with the secrets they both evidently shared and kept for so long. He needed an escape. So, he grabbed an axe and went on his search in the woods for something to hack to pieces until the anger and disappointment and betrayal melted away.

He'd just gotten close enough to finding the right tree needed to put his anxieties to rest when out jumped Wyatt.

Yet another Abhrams, he had a bone to pick with.

"Technically, I live just up the hill." He paused, if only to point north of where they stood. "C'mon, I'll grab you a beer."

Despite the less than warm greeting Ryan displayed a moment ago, it really wasn't his intention to fight with Wyatt. He did what he did and there was no taking it back. By no means was Ryan ready to forgive him for it yet, he wasn't going to crucify him right now either.

Besides, if the dialogue were to continue between them - Ryan was going to need a little crutch to get him through it.

Outside of his trailer, and just up the hill, Ryan urges Wyatt to make himself at home without ever directly saying the words. Meanwhile, he procured a six pack of beer from the fridge and carried it with him to the firepit outside.

"You know what sucks most about being home?" It's a rhetorical question. One of which doesn't require an answer. "It's this. Running into people you used to know. Tiptoeing around piles of bullshit. It's like trying to navigate a minefield. And take it from me, there's always casualties." Battle hardened eyes find Wyatt as Ryan hands him a beer. "I'm assuming you didn't come all this way to see me so, what's up?" | @wyattxabhrams

[forever-rogue]

Hello Sunshine

A/N: Hello! I’m here with a 7am shower idea that I couldn’t get out of my head. It’s just a little sweet and soft Frankie. Enjoy! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

*Bold - Frankie ; Italics - Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: none

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey! What time did you want to meet up tomorrow for brunch?” you stared at the number you’d typed in and compared it to the one that the man you’d met the evening before had given you. You had been absolutely reluctant to go to the local bar’s speed dating evening before, but your best friend had convinced you to go. She was going to go as well, so you figured if you ended up suffering, she would likely too - solidarity in its finest form. Much to your pleasant surprise however, you ended up having a fun time...the multiple rounds of drinks probably didn’t hurt either. 

Marcus had been your last round for the evening, and he had been kind and charming; easy on the eyes and easy to make conversation with. He asked you questions and you were able to ask him ones back. Definitely a sharp turn from what you were expecting; and by the end of the night he’d offered you his number and asked you to for brunch on Sunday. You’d been...elated; it had been some time since anyone had actually managed to capture your eye.

Before talking yourself out of sending the message, you hit send and put your phone onto your nightstand. You weren’t too nervous in general, but there was something about sending that first message that always caused butterflies to erupt into your stomach. It wasn’t but a few minutes before your phone vibrated to signal a new message. Trying not to get too eager and excited, you reached for it and quickly opened the new text.

Who is this?

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the seemingly hasty denial of acknowledgment. It was no matter, you groaned at yourself, you probably should have included your name in the first place. No big deal, you quickly typed out your name and added, “we met at the bar last night? For the speed dating event?”

Your stomach flipped nervously as you wondered what he would say; hoping it was just a misunderstanding and he would realize exactly who you were. 

I didn’t go to any bars last night. I don’t know who you are.

Oh. Your throat constricted as you reached for the napkin with the phone and compared it again to the number you had texted. There was no way you’d mistaken any of the numbers. Sighing heavily, you slipped out of bed and edged towards your bathroom and tossed the offending object into the can. Things had seemed like they’d gone so well...you’d genuinely liked Marcus and thought the attraction and chemistry was there on both sides. Apparently you’d been made a fool once again. Heat flooded your face in embarrassment as you contemplated whether or not to text again. To hell with it, you decided, you might as well apologize if nothing else.

So sorry. The guy I met must have given me the wrong number. I hope I didn’t ruin your night. Sorry for wasting your time.

After that bit of failure, you decided you might as well get back into bed and watch a show until you fell asleep. You felt beyond embarrassed and just wanted to forget about the whole thing. Needless to say, it surprised you when your phone went off again.

No worries. Sorry if I was rude too. It’s happened to me before with a couple of girls. It  sucks. 

At this point, you found yourself smiling at the sentiment, and decided that one more little text wouldn’t hurt anything. 

Seriously! Why can’t someone just tell you if they’re not interested? It's so much easier. Either way - thanks for understanding and have a good evening. 

You too. Hope things look up soon for you.

His response had been instant almost as if he had been watching you type it all. Whoever this stranger was - and you weren’t even sure if it was a man or woman - they had turned out to be kinder than Marcus. But it didn’t do well to dwell on it; Marcus would get what he deserved and this stranger would get some good things. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie put his phone on the charging pad he kept next to his bed, turning it on silent before crawling under the covers. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, he was surprised to see that he had a smile on his face. Not that was perpetually frowning or mad, but usually he wasn’t just smiling for no reason. 

Although he had a feeling he knew the exact reason as to why he was actually happy for once because of...you. The random stranger that texted him and sent a happy shiver up his spine. He wasn’t happy because of your little predicament, knowing the exact feeling of having been duped and given the wrong number several times. But the short conversation had been pleasant enough and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d hear from you again. 

Doubtful, he reminded himself, it was just a one off type deal and that was that. And yet...that didn’t stop him from quickly grabbing his phone again and saving your name and number as a contact. You know...just in case. 

Francisco Morales had sweet dreams throughout that night. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Frankie practically bounced into work the next morning, a smile on his face and spring in his step. So he seemed so out of normal form that his best friend and coworker, pointed it out to him and everyone. Frankie played it off like it was no big deal; in reality it wasn’t. You were just another stranger out in the world that flung into his orbit for a moment before leaving again. 

But that whole week felt different and somehow the world was a little brighter - filled with sunshine. Even if it wasn’t everlasting, he didn’t mind the feeling it gave him for the moment; the positive energy was nice for a change. 

Little did he know that across the city, you were existing in your own little world, going about your day to day in a similar manner. What a small world it was indeed. You had been incredibly tempted to look up his phone and see if you could find anything out about your mysterious stranger, a name, some sort of profile - anything  - but refrained. What if it was someone you ended up attracted? A beautiful woman or a good looking man that caused you to start all sorts of fantasies? No - you didn’t need all of that. You’d let it go or let whatever happened happen. 

Which likely was nothing. Right? Right. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Imagine your surprise when you found yourself at home with leftover pizza and a bottle of wine, resigning yourself to a quiet Saturday night when your phone vibrated. Figuring it was probably just one of your friends, or some sort of useless notification, you picked up your phone and found your jaw dropping. This wasn’t seriously happening, was it? 

Hey stranger. Hope this Saturday is better than the last one. 

Maybe they had the wrong number...or something. But no - they acknowledged the fact that last weekend had been shit and called you stranger. This had to be intentional. Setting your phone down for a moment, you grabbed your glass of wine and sipped on it, trying not to let the excitement of a single text get you too excited. They had done what you’d dreamed about all week...why not indulge in it? If nothing else, it might be nice to have someone to text with on occasion. 

Hi stranger. This Saturday involves me, the couch, pizza, and wine. I guess I really can’t complain. Hope yours is a good one too!

As soon as you hit send, you wanted to ban your head against the wall; was it too much? Not enough? Did it even warrant a response? Now you were just overthrowing everything. Shit, fuck, damn. 

But you weren't able to wallow in misery for too long before your phone went off again. Huh.

Sounds pretty good. Can't complain either, just at home with a beer and a movie. Missing the pizza though. Maybe I'll order some.

Definitely recommended! I don't know if this is odd, but you know my name and I don't know yours...do you have a name, stranger?

Not weird at all! Maybe I should have started with that. Francisco - Frankie.

Well Francisco-Frankie, it's nice to meet you. What movie are you watching?

Nice to meet you, no- longer-complete-stranger. Die Hard. A classic.

Oof. I'm afraid it ends here. Hot take - Die Hard is...notthatgood.

It's been a good but short time…how can you not like Die Hard!? What could you be watching that's so much better?

The Office. A modern classic and clearly superior to anything you're picking if you think Die Hard is good.

Fun fact - I've never seen a single episode of the Office. And never plan on it. Tell me, mystery girl, what should I get on my pizza?

I now make it my plan to convince you to watch The Office. Pepperoni, jalapeños, and tomatoes. Regular crust, none of that thin crust bs.

Challenge accepted. An odd combination but I'll give it a try. Results tbd.

Already listening - I'm a fan of it. I'll let you get back to your movie and order your pizza. Have a good night Francisco-Frankie.

You too, mystery girl.

There was an undeniably giant grin on your face as you set your phone back down. Had this actually happened? Surely this was some sort of dream; a random stranger actually striking up a conversation? And seemingly enjoying it? Out of this world.

As you downed your glass and got ready to refill it your phone vibrated once again. This time you didn't even bother to let a moment pass before picking it back up and opening the notification.

Can I text you again sometime?

Yeah...I'd like that.

You just about melted into the couch, happier than you had been in a long time. And all from texts from a man you still hadn't met. Who knew if you would ever meet him? Either way, this Francisco aka Frankie had proven to be a welcome disturbance in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks passed in the same blissful fashion. You'd go about your day with work and other responsibilities and obligations but you had your pocket companion with you. That's what you nicknamed Frankie anyways. 

What has started as some texting here and there soon turned into conversations throughout the days, slowly becoming more personal and introspective with each passing day. And despite still knowing what he looked like or anything...you thrived in it. You'd wondered if he'd looked you up - he hadn't for the same reasons as you - and that's why you got along so well. 

The two of you had a lot in common but still managed to have your differences. One thing that never failed to make you smile was what had turned into his version of a good morning text.

Hello Sunshine. 

Hi Fly Boy. 

Stay dry today, its supposed to be a pretty bad downpour. Talk later?

Of course. Be safe too.

The small sentiment was enough to send you reeling; it was funny how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. Like in some ways you'd always known each other, but still were finding out things constantly. You weren't sure where it would lead to...if anything but for now you appreciated your new found friend.

»»————-　♡　————-««

I have a work party this weekend and it's formal. Do I go for an lbd or something colorful?

Depends - do you want people to approach or admire from the distance?

From the distance, so I can leave fairly quickly but people still know I was there.

Definitely LBD then.

My hero! Perfect idea!

»»————-　♡　————-««

How do I get out of a camping trip this weekend?

Why would you try and get out of it? You said you loved camping.

I do but...just not feeling it this weekend.

Tell them you're feeling or that your new girlfriend wants to spend the weekend together.

New girlfriend? I wasn't aware I had one…

Its called a white lie Frankie. Use me as an excuse if you have to.

You're the best! A real lifesaver, sunshine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Okay, here's a tough one. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

All three. But if only one - coffee.

How do you take it?

Black with a little bit of sugar.

That's kind of the vibe I got! But you're wrong - the best answer is coffee in the am, afternoon tea, and then sometimes a hot chocolate for dessert.

Let me guess - salted caramel hot chocolate? 

How did you know?! Alright, Fly Boy, you know me too well already.

Just a hunch, sunshine. Okay - favorite color?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Do you think if I pretend to be dead I can leave work early?

Dramatic! I love it. How about a migraine? Last minute emergency?

Probably better. Migraine it is.

Just a thought. Beers with the guys tonight?

Yup. Girls night?

Yes! Talk tomorrow?

Of course.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Soooo I might have gotten myself into a predicament…

What happened?

Umm, I might have lied and told my friends that I started seeing someone…

Oh no.

Yeah...all because I couldn't admit that that guy had given me the wrong number. How do I explain?!

Maybe just don't say anything and then later say it died down or something? No need to drag it further.

You're right and I am an idiot. 

Nah, it happens to the best of us.

Hmm sure. Anyways, onto important things. Dogs or cats?

»»————-　♡　————-««

If you could only have one type of food for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

Hmm, that’s a hard one. I’m torn between Mexican (the good stuff of course) and Italian and sushi. You? 

Pizza!

That’s not a type of food, Francisco!

It totally is. There’s different varieties, it can count!

That’s a cheap way to answer the question, but I’ll accept it because you’re cute. 

You think I’m cute? And just how do you know? Do I have a stalker?

Nah, too much effort. Besides, I’m usually busy talking to you. It would be kind of obvious if I was, wouldn’t it? I just have a feeling. 

Very funny, sunshine. I’m positive it’s the other way around. 

You’re the stalker? What am I wearing right now?

You know what I meant!

Of course I did. I’m the smart one in this duo, don’t forget. 

You’re too much. Want to watch a movie tonight? We start at the same time? 

Yes! Anything but Die Hard or other shitty movies along those lines.

You’re killing me here. One day I will convince you to watch it with me.

I look forward to that - but not tonight. Name your top 3 ideas.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Over the weeks, Frankie became an everyday part of your life. The two of you texted back and forth throughout the day as time allowed. It was nice - comforting to have him there despite the fact that he could have been anyone in the world. Well, you knew he was local to you from his area code but otherwise...a mystery.

You wondered if you’d ever encountered him out in the real world before. It was a definite possibility, but you would never know. Not unless you somehow actually ended up meeting him in person. The idea of proposing such a notion hadn’t seemed far off, especially since your days were filled with each other and there were undeniably flirty texts and insinuations. The few times you’d actually gotten the nerve up to just ask him, something always seemed to come and keep you from doing it. Namely - nerves. 

What if you were reading all wrong into this? What if he really wanted nothing more than a friendship? What if texting was the extent of it all? 

Naturally, you’d know your answer if you’d just fucking ask him. But that seemed like a momentous and herculean task and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be up for it. Perhaps things would just...happen one day. Despite getting to know him, he was still just this enigmatic aura. For all you knew you might as well have been fighting a robot. 

When then...one random night, a Wednesday evening when you’d just walked in the door with fresh produce from the downtown farmer’s market, your phone name. Shifting the large bags in your arms, you managed to fish your phone out of your pocket and answer it without looking at who it was. 

“Hello?” you kicked the door shut behind you and shuffled into the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping the bags onto the counters. At first you didn’t hear anything on the other end of the line besides some shuffling, but then eventually you heard a distant voice say something indiscernible. In confusion, you pulled the phone out from between your ear and shoulder and glanced at the contact. The name was enough to have your breath catch in your throat as you realized that your mysterious Frankie on the other end. He’d never called before...perhaps it had been a mistake? Even if it was, you were going to take full advantage of it, “Frankie? Hello? Come on Fly Boy, it’s me. If you can hear me, let me know.”

It was a few more seconds of shuffling and almost static like noise before you were positive you heard a quiet fuck. But then, in a moment that made your heart almost stop, you heard him, loud and clear, “h-hi….sunshine?”

“Hi Frankie,” you repeated as you felt your heart melt and legs turn to jelly, “I’m going to guess this wasn’t an intended call?”

“Umm, shit no,” he admitted with what you could only describe as a nervous laugh, “accidental pocket dial.”

“It’s 2021 and you’re pocket dialing people?” you snorted with laughter as you grabbed your earbuds to sync up the bluetooth so you could talk to him while putting away all of the fresh fruits and veggies you had acquired, “that’s such an old person thing, Frankie! What are you 50?”

“It’s not that weird,” he insisted with an indignant scoff as you giggled, “it can happen easily if you don’t lock your phone when you put it away and yeah...here we are. And for the record I am nowhere near 50! I am only 36.”

“Oof,” you opened the fridge and popped the veggies into the drawer, “I’m afraid that things end here, Grandpa.” 

“Very funny! How old are you then, huh? Oh my God - please don’t tell me I’ve been talking to and flirting with a teenager,” for a moment he sounded genuinely nervous as you almost doubled over in laughter at his panic. The fact that he had admitted to flirting was lost on you in your amusement he was so worried that he didn’t even notice the gaff, “sunshine!”

“I’m almost 30,” you reassured him and he instantly sighed in relief on the other end, “don’t worry. Besides, I told you I met the man I thought I was texting at a bar - at least I would have been 21.” 

“That still would have been weird,” he admitted as you made a small sound of agreement, “this is better.”

“Ha! Thanks for the sentiment,” you  rinsed and crunched on a carrot before hopping onto the counter to get comfortable. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say your next words or not...but you decided to just do it, “this is...nice. I like hearing your voice. Makes you more real.”

“I like it too,” he agreed softly, a tinge of pink rising up in his cheeks, despite the fact that you couldn’t see it, “you sound like I thought.”

“Oh? Like an annoying twelve-year-old boy?” 

“Okay, okay, dramatic much?” he snorted, “just accept the compliment!”

“Fine,” you huffed, being very overdramatic indeed, “what are you up to tonight, Frankie? Want to cook together?”

“I’m yours - free, I mean free,” he corrected himself as you relished in his little mess up, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. I’m a better baker.”

“Ooh, excellent,” you slid off the counter in excitement, “how about this - we’ll make something simple for dinner - I’ll walk you through it step by step, and then you’re in charge of dessert. Deal?”

“Deal,” Frankie felt a rush of excitement surge through him as he stepped into his kitchen and reached for his apron - the same one that Santi always made fun of him for, “what’s on the menu?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

And just like that texts turned into texts and phone calls. There was something so thrilling, like a huge surge of electricity shot down your spine and throughout your body every time you saw his name up pop or heard the sound of his voice. Frankie was...slowly turning into your constant companion and if you were being honest with yourself he was everything you had had ever wanted. 

And oh - how scary it was to be falling for a man you still hadn't met in person. Slowly, surely it would happen. Gods, you wanted it to happen so desperately. But you were painfully shy when it came to the idea of asking him out and little did you know, he was feeling exactly the same way. Frankie wanted nothing more than to finally ask you on a proper date, to spend all those times laughing with you in person. But he just...continually talked himself out of it.

He was just so shy, so nervous and he thought it would be impossible that someone like you would actually go for a guy like him. He was just...fly boy and you were his Sunshine. Frankie had given you the name early on, deciding that it was appropriate because you brought a little bit of sunshine into his life every day. It had almost brought you to tears - not that you'd admit that to anyone - not yet anyway. His nickname was simple - he was a former military pilot and now a part time ‘whenever he got the chance pilot’ - Fly Boy. It was perfect and he adored it as much as you.

And yet neither of you, pining silly fools had been able to make that final move. One day, you both reminded yourself constantly, one day.

And one day turned out to be sooner than either of you expected...

"Mmhmm," you murmured into the phone as you scoured the bookshelves of your local little bookstore. You had a rare afternoon off and to treat yourself to a nice coffee and searching for a new read. You'd fallen out of reading regularly and had made it a point to get back into it, aiming for a book month. Naturally, your friend had called you at that exact time, "of course pizza is always a good choice."

Frankie hummed under his breath as he walked through the aisles looking for the book you had recommended to him. He hadn’t thought much about the woman he saw a few rows over with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. He did note, however, that the tone of her voice was sweet - not that he was trying to listen in on her conversation. 

“Yes it is!” you laughed into the phone, trying to keep it down when you noticed the man in your peripheral vision and aimed to keep from disturbing him, “pizza is good for whenever you don't know what to make. And you know the best - pepperoni, jalapenos, and tomatoes. No contest.”

Despite not trying to listen in to your conversation, as soon as he heard you describe pizza, his perked up and immediately his heart started pounding. A nervous rush of energy flowed through him as he tried to get a better look at you without making it obvious. Holy shit - was this actually it? Was he about to meet his Sunshine?

“I even told Frankie,” you insisted with a small smile as you took a sip of your coffee, “he liked it too. Yes...of course I’m still talking to him...I-I really like him. I hope that one day I can meet him. I keep wanting to ask and then I get so nervous and talk myself out of it. He’s just...lovely.”

This definitely couldn’t be a coincidence, right? The particular type of pizza, Frankie, wanting to meet - this had to be you. And the more he listened, despite his initial efforts, he couldn’t help but zone in on you. And now, hearing your voice unfiltered and unaltered through the phone, he knew it was you. He just stopped in his tracks as he watched you, a silly little smile on his face as he realized that somehow the universe had decided to throw him a bone. 

“Mhmm,” you murmured into the phone, “of course. I’ll talk to you later!”

Ending the call, you shoved your phone into your pocket and reached for one of the books that had piqued your interest. Sliding it out and reading over the back, you quickly got lost in your thoughts until you heard a throat clear behind you. Assuming you were in someone’s way, you shuffled to the side without glancing at who it was. But then you heard it - quiet and shy but clear, “Sunshine?”

At the sound of the nickname you’d been given by only one person throughout your entire life, your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as your body froze. Surely..surely this couldn’t be happening…

Turning around, slowly, painfully slowly, you found yourself staring at a face both brand new and immediately familiar. You’d never seen him before, but instantly it was like you knew him, all of him. In some ways you supposed, you did. 

“F-Frankie?” almost getting choked up, your voice was barely above a whisper as the handsome man in front of you slowly nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his whole features lit up with excitement. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in the corners as his grew grin and a one singular dimple appeared. You weren’t really sure what you had pictured when you’d thought about your mysterious friend, but somehow this was right on the mark. You blinked a few times, trying to hold back your tears of sheer excitement, “you’re real after all!”

And then he laughed. A beautiful, glorious sound that caused a surge of warmth to rush through your entire body. He really was just as lovely as you’d dreamed. 

“Did you really think you were talking to a robot this whole time?” he asked as you flushed with warmth but stuck your tongue at him, “I can’t believe it’s really you. After all these months...finally. I’ve been wanting to ask you for so long but I didn’t think…”

“Me too,” you agreed, “me too. Small world, huh?”

“I was just looking for the book you recommended last night,” he admitted as you practically glowed with excitement. Holding up a finger, you turned around and quickly found the book in question and displayed it for him, “I didn’t think I’d find the book and the woman I’ve been talking to for months.”

“How did you know it was me?” you asked as you walked over to him and he offered up a sheepish grin.

“The pizza.”

“The pizza!” you snorted with laughter, “I should have known. Too obvious.”

“I like to think that everything happens for a reason,” he tried to take the book from your hands but you just shook your head, “what?”

“This is going to be from me to you,” you insisted as a tinge of pink welled up in his cheeks, “a souvenir from the day we met!”

“I’ll treasure it forever,” he promised and you could tell he meant it, “what are you doing tonight? Now?”

“I dunno,” you feigned innocence, “I was planning on going home to cook and talk to this guy I’ve been falling for for months, but that seems a little weird now.” 

“Will you let me take you to dinner -  a date? A real date?” he asked as you beamed at him and nodded. How could you ever say no. 

“Only if you take me to that Italian place you told me about!”

“Whatever you want, Sunshine,” he promised as he reached for your hand and gently laced your fingers together. It felt so easy, so effortless, and you didn’t even have to think about - natural. 

“You,” you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his cheek, “just you, Frankie.”

“Sweet Sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[angelfishofthelord]

you're nothing like him

Day 3: like father, like son

for @dadstielweek (also on a03)

set after 15x14

Jack tries to look nonchalant as he slips a pack of fruit roll ups into the shopping basket. Cas had sent him over to the next aisle to get some packs of jerky-- “because they’ll give you energy on long hunts, at least that’s what I’ve observed”--and Jack knows that if he sneaks in a few extra snacks under the black pepper-flavored jerky then Cas will pay for it. The trick is knowing the right amount; if there are more than three different candies, Cas might tell him to put some back. Last week Jack had complained of his tooth hurting, only for a second before his grace instinctively healed it, but it was too late. Cas had already heard it and the only one who would let Jack eat whatever he wanted had now turned into a wary inspector of anything that had sugar in it.

Peering over the top of the shelves Jack makes a quick survey to see Cas’ location and if there’s enough time to nab a Snickers bar. Cas is standing near the counter, head bent over a rack of what looks like greeting cards. The Gas n Sip employee is standing there, talking and gesturing enthusiastically, which is never a good sign. The last time Cas had a half hour conversation next to the drink refrigerator with a new Gas n Sip worker, giving her a run down of all the different pitfalls to avoid and shortcuts to efficiency she could make, while Jack tried in vain to nudge him towards the checkout.

Making his way over to hopefully shorten whatever monologue is already going on, Jack approaches them, only to see Cas squinting intensely at a card in his hand. “It’s for Father’s Day,” he announces, showing it to Jack like it’s a case file. “Apparently fathers have their own day of celebration. There aren’t even any requirements for them to be celebrated on this day. And,” he leans forward, “it’s not the only kind of day like this. There’s a mother’s day, too.”

“Sam and Dean never mentioned those,” Jack frowns. Birthdays and Christmas are the only ones he’s heard of before, and even those were hardly celebrated until Mrs. Butter’s feast last week. “Do you think there’s a son’s day too?”

“There’s a children’s day,” says the Gas n Sip employee, staring at both of them with that mixed expression of confusion and amusement that Jack has gotten very used to seeing by now.

“Cas,” Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Do you think Sam and Dean know about these days? Maybe we should get some of these advertisements to tell them about it.”

“They’re not ads,” the employee--his name tag says Marcus--pipes up.

Cas still has his eyebrows all slanted, the way he looks when he’s trying to understand details of a case. “Are there days for other identities? Is there a sibling day? A detective day? A Gas n Sip manager day?”

Marcus laughs. “No, but there should be.” He and Cas exchange a nod of solidarity before Cas goes back to flipping through the stack of Father’s Day cards in his hand.

“This,” Cas says, pointing a finger at one with bright yellow and blue bubbly lettering, “refers to biology, but the picture doesn’t match.”

Jack peers over to look at it. The words read “like father, like son” inside a round cartoon speech bubble spoken by two beer bottles.

“It doesn’t mean that, really.” Marcus shrugs. “It’s more about, like, character stuff you pick up from your dad. Or like personality quirks. I think it’s kinda funny.” He nods at the card. “Do you want to get this one?”

Cas turns to Jack, as if asking for his input. Jack quickly hides the hand holding a pack of Twizzlers he’s grabbed off the nearest shelf. “Huh? Oh, no, not that one. It’s not true at all.”

The slightest tint of a shadow crosses Cas’ face and he pushes all the cards back into their slot. “Let’s be on our way, Jack,” he says, motioning for the basket. “We still have a few hours to go on the road.”

“I mean, you’re nothing like my grandpa.” Jack hands the basket to Cas and then leans in to whispe, “And I’m really glad about that.”

A soft expression of relief washes over Cas’ face and he looks down into the basket, shifting the packages but saying nothing about the extra items.

Marcus puts all their things in a bag. Jack takes it and discreetly counts the number of candies, noticing that somehow Cas has managed to take out half of it while he wasn’t looking. Maybe he and all the Gas n Sip employees have a special arrangement. He doesn’t quite understand Cas’ connection to the store, but at least the fruit roll ups survived the purge.

When Marcus gives Cas his change he wishes him a “Happy Father’s Day”. Cas stills, his hand on the counter. There’s something unrecognizable in his eyes when he smiles and thanks Marcus.

Back in the truck Jack opens the bag of fruit roll ups first. He opens one but somehow doesn’t feel like eating it. The Father’s Day card hovers in his mind. “Do you think,” he begins, studiously picking at the edge of the wrapper, “that I’m anything like you?”

“I would hope not,” Cas says dryly.

Jack looks up and Cas must see the crestfallen look on his face because he adds quickly, “Jack, I’m not--look,” he twists around in his seat, “Jack, you are good and brave. You put others first and you care about their smallest needs. You are sharing and open and--and honest. And you love with your whole heart. You learned this from your mother.”

“No,” Jack hums, now biting eagerly into the sticky candy. “I got that from you, Cas.”

Cas makes that face again, the same expression he made when Marcus said happy fathers day to him, and Jack finally recognizes it. It’s partially surprise, but what’s clearest to Jack is the doubt and disbelief in his eyes. Jack remembers hearing those same notes in Cas’ voice, even before he was born, and it’s something he doesn’t know how to change.

He doesn’t know to make Cas believe that he’s the best father he could have asked for.

So instead he passes over the bag of fruit roll ups and Cas takes one with a little grin and they sit there in the truck, munching quietly. A bird flutters down and starts pecking at the leaves stuck in the windshield wipers. Cas points out that it’s a common grackle--“although there’s nothing ordinary about them”--and he goes on about the different iridescent  shades in their feathers and the corners of his eyes get all wrinkled in excitement. Jack listens and watches him and thinks I love him. So much.

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[churchyardgrim]

TOWER OF DOOM by Mark Anthony

[intro post]

so i was actually warned away from this book, by ppl who'd read the series and who, at the time, did not know me terribly well

bc of course it went straight to the top of my to-read list

and now, having read it, hoooooo boy dear readers let me tell you, that tower sure can doom

we've got a classic hunchback of notre dame here folks; shitty baron in a shitty provincial town, with a disabled half-brother in a tower ringing bells, etc etc etc, and also some business with a lady doctor of genuinely supernatural goodness, and something about a werecat secret agent of Azalin Rex sniffing around bc the baron's plotting against the king and whathaveyou

now i need to take a moment, right here at the top, to talk about this werecat

Jadis is.... well she wouldn't be out of place in a C-grade James Bond novelization. she's The Sexiest Sexy Lady Who Ever Breasted Boobily Down The Stairs, and also she can turn into a giant fuckoff panther bc what's sexier than that. she's a strong independent career-minded woman, and oh yeah she fucks her boss

the boss who is a lich

yeah that boss

now it's not that i object to lichfucking in principal! far from it! anyone who knows me can attest that this is in fact my brand! 

what i do object to is the fact that it's written about as well as baby's first straightguy fanfiction! and also that IT'S IN CHAPTER TWO. THEY LEAD WITH THIS. RIGHT OUT THE GATE HERE.

it's just. it's so badly written guys. it's barely five paragraphs and i am scarred by how clumsy and amateurish the writing is.

like fuck, i can do better than this! i should do better than this! hold my beer, i'm going to take a hammer and FIX the canon

ahem. anyway.

so Jadis has her necro moment and we move on, thank god, and get the rest of what passes for plot moving

to summarize a lot of faffing about and establishing the tone as Needlessly Bleak, the local baron found a magic rock that absorbs souls and makes zombies, and he's running a transparently fake inquisition to find ""traitors"" to execute in order to charge this thing up like a battery

meanwhile our resident Tower Hunchback gets tricked by someone else into carting home a really really cursed bell for the belltower

a cursed bell that kills ppl! fantastic

it's… honestly really boring to talk about lmao. our friend Wort starts doing his "you want a monster? i'll show you a monster" revenge plot, killing off the baron's inner circle one by one and being all tortured about his station in life, and it's fine, i guess. 

there's also a fancy doctorlady whose name i've already forgotten here to see the goodness in all life or whatever, ministering to the poor idiot townspeople who don't know what deafness is (i wish i was kidding)

naturally there's some hamfisted romance between them, and naturally it made me gag more than the lichfucking did. these aren't people, they're caricatures from an author with no goddamn idea what he's doing, and i can feel the pain of his editor as if it were my own

it's trying to tell a story about social rejection, and relative monstrosity, and how being ostracized should drive ppl together against their oppressors but instead only builds divisions between them, as victims tend to be myopic and very attached to their own suffering, to the exclusion of solidarity with their peers

it's trying to tell that story, but it. is not succeeding. it's so hamfisted in its writing, and so full of awkward straight dude horniness, and it's just… so bad you guys.

anyway there's even more faffing, half the cast is dead of Bell Ghosts Disorder by now, and the most interesting thing that happens is Jadis starts to realize that uhhhhh maybe not using protection when getting with a powerful arcane undead is gonna have some longterm consequences my dude

altho i don't think condoms help with magical necrosis so uh. not really sure what she was meant to do differently here. not fuck the lich? not a chance

the good news is she's mostly spared those consequences by dying in a firetrap the baron left her in! so sad, rip catgirl. it's at this point the baron's Big Evil Scheme is revealed, and he's planning to… use the soulstone to animate a big fuckoff war tower, drive the thing directly to Castle Avernus, and i guess bash Azalin to death with it?

no idea why Azzy even needed to get Jadis involved in this, given she does practically nothing to stop it and it collapses anyway under the weight of its own stupidity. Wort's mad with power by now, there's zombies everywhere, this author clearly has a Thing for lovingly described corpses and decay and i don't even know what to do with that

the eventual resolution involves something about the inherent goodness of the human spirit breaking the bell's curse, and also a very disney villain death for the baron. it's very strange, given all the needless cruelty and lurid gore that lead up to it. Wort accidentally drives the walking tower off a cliff, the doctor lady survives to haunt the moors as a ghost? angel? angelghost? maimed and ugly now by her injuries but healing ppl in mysterious silence, something something morality tale

ultimately you can give this one a pass. the quality of the writing is just too bad to put up with, and the plot is largely unremarkable except for the bizarre decision to have a catgirl fuck a lich

now if you'll excuse me, i have some free, uncompensated rewriting to do.

[einsteinsugly]

My Two Worlds Apart universe...aka, interacting with other second-gen universes (The Sweetest Gifts version)...

To @zeppelin-and-unicorns, because I adore this universe!

Hannah Kelso: Oh, so you're named Hannah too. Hannah Forman: Yeah, I am. We're both sweet, and we love animals. Hannah K (excited): Me too! I don't like to pick favorites, but dogs are just the sweetest... Hannah F: Usually, yeah. Cats hold a special place in my heart... Hannah K: Really? Cats can be mean, sometimes, but that doesn't mean I love them any less. I mean, I can maybe hurt a fly, but not a spider... Kate (panicking): Spider? Did you say spider? Hannah K: That's your sister, from another universe, over there. Hannah F: She takes after Dad, I guess. *With a laugh* I don't have a sister, and now, I get two. Kate (meandering over, with Becca): And, you get Becca, your potential sewing buddy. Becca (awkwardly waving): Hi, I'm Becca. Kate (with a similar laugh to Hannah F's): And we're like sisters. Attached at the hip since we were babies... Becca (with a disappointed sigh): Yeah.

Pan over, to Dylan, James, and Leah.

Dylan: Don't you see Leah as a sister or a cousin? I see Hannah as a sister, and nobody fucks with her. When someone snatches her hearing aid, I fucking kick their ass to Jupiter. James: Eh, we always had chemistry. And unlike Uncle Kelso with his chemistry set, it won't blow up in our faces. Leah (wrapping her arm around James's waist): I think we should buy Uncle Kelso some fireworks. James (with a smirk, and a kiss): Yeah, maybe he can lose a couple fingers, like his Uncle Eddie...

Pan over to, the gang...

Two Worlds Apart Kelso: They're so mean! TSG Kelso: I know, right? Dylan and Jordan like to mess with me, too! TWA Hyde: Most of the time, you fuckin' deserve it. *Turning to the other Hyde* How the hell do you sleep at night, since Mikey's with... TSG Hyde: He's not an asshole, like kettlehead over there. *Annoyed* He's still a fuckin' kettlehead, though. TSG Kelso: Damn, Hyde! He's totally good enough for... TWA Hyde (ignoring Kelso, to the other Hyde): I hear ya. The last boyfriend Becca had, he abandoned her to go skateboarding. *With a proud smirk* I smashed his skateboard over his head. TSG Hyde: Like an anvil? *TWA Hyde nods, and they clink beers* Nice.

Focus in, on the Jackies, and Eric and Donna...

TWA Jackie: I can't believe there are two of us, right here. Right now. *Barely skipping a beat* Isn't that amazing? TSG Jackie: Of course it is. Taking the world by storm... TWA Eric: Yeah, by storm, all right. She's richer than all of us. TWA Jackie: And Eric makes next to nothing, because he's a teacher... TWA Eric: Y'know, teachers should be valued in society, instead of being spit on with pennies... TSG Eric (with a sigh): As the wives make more money than us. *Clinking beers in solidarity* It's so sad, y'see... TWA Eric (lowering his voice): Shh, she doesn't like being called the wife. TSG Eric: Maybe, just maybe, I do it when I need to make some sort of... *Both Donnas appear* Oh, hi. My Donna, the other Donna... TWA Donna: I'm the other Donna, in case you're confused. *Turning to TSG Donna* How did you bring yourself to return to Point Place after you graduated? TWA Eric (interrupting, wrapping his arm around Donna's shoulders): That's where fun goes to die. And hopes and dreams. TSG Eric: How do you survive teaching on the South Side of Chicago, every day? TWA Eric: A little bit of diplomacy; a spoonful of sugar, if you will. To help the medicine go down. The medicine being, y'know...breaking up fights, the general blight compared to the North Side... TSG Donna (to the other Donna): Does he always ramble on like this, all the freaking time? TWA Donna (with a sigh): Yeah, he's passionate about his job. Just like I'm passionate about mine, and he listens to me rant about politics and all the freaking crap that goes on in the newsroom... TSG Donna (with an identical sigh): I hear you. It can get kind of dull, sometimes. There are only so many fluff pieces about the state fair and doll expos I can write about before I freaking explode. And write something worthwhile. TWA Donna: I don't really write fluff pieces. I write about a lot of city council meetings, though. *With a groan* It's like watching CSPAN. TWA Jackie (barging in): My talk show is never like watching CSPAN. It's like watching Grease, or Fame, or the Heathers...

Both Hydes emerge from the darkness, as both Kelsos follow suit...

TWA Hyde: If I ain't behind the scenes, I'm sittin' at Grooves, watchin' the show. *Skipping a beat* It's pretty freaking great. TWA Jackie: We're both pretty amazing together. I don't know who these writers are on this weird 90s show, but they're putting me with Michael... TSG Jackie (nearly gagging): Eww! TWA Jackie: And, I'm pretty sure we have a son named Jay. And Eric and Donna have a daughter named Leia... Both Eric and Donnas (wincing): Eww. TWA Eric: I've had so, so many dirty fantasies about Leia... TWA Hyde: Forman, you named your kid Leah. TWA Eric (awkwardly twitchy): That's totally different. You know the story... TSG Jackie (as Eric's still rambling in the background): So, I can't believe I'm saying this, but since Eric saved my life and everything, both Erics have aged better than Michael... Both Kelsos: Damn, Jackie! TWA Kelso: You're so mean, just like... TWA Jackie (ignoring him): He's aged like John Travolta. TSG Jackie (also ignoring Kelso): So, terribly? TWA Jackie: Yeah, he's fat. *Wrapping her arms around Hyde's waist* But my Steven? He's amazing, smart, and hot. He's redeemed himself a long time ago, and he's gone above and beyond; now we're partners in...or against, crime. Crimes against humanity. Like Eric and Donna, but cooler. TWA Hyde (kissing her temple): Damn straight. We're rebels with a cause, and we kick ass. TWA Jackie (pulling him closer): And take names. TSG Jackie: Oh, we do that too. *With a dramatic pause, turning to Hyde, wrapping her arms around his waist* Don't we, Steven? TSG Hyde (kissing her): We've aged like a freakin' fine wine.

[kpophours]

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched. 

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse. 

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently. 

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards. 

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home. 

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad. 

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits. 

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you. 

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression. 

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy. 

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come. 

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan. 

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee. 

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing. 

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it. 

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins. 

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk. 

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now. 

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all. 

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right. 

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[cultivatedmemes]

The Locked Tomb Starters Harrowhark the Ninth edition

❝ Please don't be in such a hurry to die. ❞

❝ I would rather have my tendons peeled from my body, one by one. ❞

❝ So what I'm hearing is... maybe. ❞

❝ I have never been murdered before, and I truly don't intend to start now. ❞

❝ The past is dead, but you and I are alive. ❞

❝ Well, I tried, and therefore no one should criticize me. ❞

❝ Did you really think I entertained any delusions that you could be mistaken, in the dark, by a dementia-ridden dog raised with no knowledge of bladed objects, for a swordsman? ❞

❝ Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies. ❞

❝ I will not suckle at your boot heel. ❞

❝ You're trying to start a fight with me to get out of the fight I am trying to have with you. ❞

❝ Should we hold hands, in girlish solidarity? ❞

❝ Your weapon should be stealth; if through unholy means you wake them, there will be no other weapons left. ❞

❝ I am making a joke. I josh. I kid. I do that. ❞

❝ Your job is to stand, to face our foes, and to die when you are empty, but not before. ❞

❝ You need a blade, and someone with the will to wield it. ❞

❝ I can't kiss you back. My lipstick's perfect and I refuse to smear it. ❞

❝ I never heard her say an unkind word except when it was very funny. ❞

❝ I will let you know now that the plan for my funeral is in my top drawer, and I've got it down to a minute-by-minute framework, and it's only twenty-four minutes, and it's just lovely. ❞

❝ Once you turn your back on something, you have no more right to act as though you own it. ❞

❝ You don't fear dying. You are afraid that your life has incurred a debt that your death will not pay. ❞

❝ You see death as a mistake. ❞

❝ What did you say, to make him try to kill you? ❞

❝ United we stand, divided we fall, or so the saying goes. ❞

❝ God is a dickhead. ❞

❝ I personally loathe tattletales for the purpose of insult, but it seems to be your main weapon in our conversations. ❞

❝ Soup is easy. You cut up an onion, burn it at the bottom of the pot, put in a few vegetables, and then some meat. It won't taste like anything, so put in a few teaspoons of salt, and then it'll taste like a few teaspoons of salt. ❞

❝ May all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered. ❞

❝ Raise your hands, [Name], or make me strike down an unarmed man/woman. ❞

❝ Me? I've never regretted anything, as a rule. ❞

❝ Once I tell you, whatever you do to me, don't do it below the neck. None of my other shirts are pressed. ❞

❝ Your dress is perfect. You look like a melon. ❞

❝ Let me introduce you to the special world of sisterhood-- I will reveal everything you do, contradict what you say at every turn, and hold your hair back in the morning. ❞

❝ That was disgusting, to say the least. Old people should be shot. ❞

❝ You're even stubborner than I am. I thought I'd cornered the market. ❞

❝ But the problem is that heroes always die. You can't even really pronounce someone a hero until they die heroically. ❞

❝ Let's go through all the other, less awkward questions first. How is a baby made? I can do that, easy. I mean, I don't want to, but I'm ready. I have this little book about babies, bodies, friends, and family. Are you and [Name] being safe? ❞

❝ You are a murderer, a conman/woman, a cheat, a liar, and a slitherer. ❞

❝ I am not a hero, [Name]. I never was. ❞

❝ You have paid the price. The hardest part is over. Smile to the universe, thank it for it's graciousness, and mount your throne. ❞

❝ I am sick of roses and I am horny for revenge. ❞

❝ I owe you a great debt. You have given me much in return for very little. ❞

❝ You've got two short minutes left before I punch you right in the butthole. ❞

❝ It’s a rule: chickenshits don't get beer. ❞ 

❝ I'm poor with thanks and worse with goodbyes. Therefore i won't bother with them. ❞ 

❝ Confess, and be the man I want you to be, rather than the man you apparently are. ❞ 

❝ There is no such thing as forgiveness. There’s only bloody truth, and blessed ignorance. ❞

❝ I’m being selfish. But I wanted you to know. ❞

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Friday, 20:02

Songs: ALMA - Chasing Highs; Topic ft. A7S - Breaking Me

Lucas is on a high.

He’s also maybe just high. Just a little bit.

He’s spent the past four hours with Jens. Smoking, and skating, and talking and laughing and together. Jens had taken him to his favourite cafe after school to avoid having to split up to get dinner, and Lucas only realised his intentions when he whipped his phone out to snap a photo of the food in front of him. A week of knowing him, and he’s already introduced Lucas to his most cherished tradition. He hadn’t made much of a deal out of it, beyond a wink towards Lucas and a simple, “Voilá. Vettige Vrijdag is your last round of initiation. Welcome to the Broerrrs.”

It was good food, and Jens had seemed pleased with how happily Lucas wolfed it down, and with only some wheedling, Lucas also managed to get dessert out of him. Jens buying him a smoothie was enough to send his heart soaring, and Lucas is on cloud nine after the first hour.

Only, it doesn’t stop there.

They followed up by going to the skatepark, because it’s Jens’s hangout of choice. They had spent two more hours racing each other down the ramps with laughter ringing between them, both landing on their asses on more than one occasion as they tried to one-up each other. Still, neither could find it in themselves to voice a single complaint. They’d even attempted to go down the slope at the same time, hands latched onto wrists, only to end up sliding in opposite directions and collapsing together in the middle.

Lucas’s stomach and throat still ache from laughing, but in the last hour they’d soothed it over with the bottle of beer Lucas had bought them and the blunt Jens had been hiding. Lucas had spent the whole time trying not to focus too much on the fact that they were sharing, Jens’s lips on the same place his had been not even a second before. He’d spent the whole time trying not to focus on Jens’s lips in general, wrapped around the bottle, blowing out a gentle stream of smoke. Talking to Lucas. They’d spent the whole time talking. Joking and teasing and explaining. Lucas had told him about Kes and Jayden and Isa and the others, as well as a few things about Utrecht in general. Jens had told him about the Broerrrs and his sisters and Antwerp in return, listing all the places he has yet to take Lucas. He hadn’t asked Lucas any questions or pushed beyond what Lucas was willingly telling him, and Lucas could only express his gratitude by extending the same thoughtfulness and teasing him a little more.

He’s been managing the smoking and the drinking and the laughing and the talking. It’s the touching he can’t quite deal with.

The whole evening, there have been small instances of contact. Elbows knocking and arms bumping and hands brushing. Light punches to shoulders and claps on the back and grabs of wrists. Never much, never long, never anything but innocent and friendly. Always burning, always surprising, always something. Leaving Lucas with a constantly stuttering heartbeat.

Now, walking into the party with Jens’s arm tossed casually over his shoulder, Lucas is on a high.

Amber greets them at the door with a cheerful smile, pecking them both on the cheek before ushering them inside. Lucas keeps his own hands stuffed in his pockets and lets Jens steer him through the house, following Amber, who leads them directly to the Broerrrs before disappearing back to her post at the entrance. For a party that has just started, it’s already fairly full, with a small group of people in each corner, spread out along the walls, with a few brave souls already dancing around the center of the room. Moyo and Aaron have managed to claim the sofa. They sit watching the couple heavily making out on the armchair across from them, Aaron with a studious expression and Moyo with a face of mild disgust.

Lucas and Jens share a look, and their laughter comes quiet below the sound of the music. It’s still just enough to capture Moyo’s attention, who gives out a small cheer when he catches sight of them.

Jens pushes Lucas forward first, setting his hands on his shoulders with a wide grin. “I’ve only managed to grab him for an hour, so enjoy him while he’s here.”

Aaron finally drags his attention over at the sound of Jens’s voice as Moyo frowns. “What? Why only an hour?”

“I’m going home after. I really should have left after school, but—” Lucas eyes Jens’s grin and returns it with a smile of his own, “—he’s persuasive.”

Jens happily tugs a lock of his hair before finally letting him go and perching himself on the arm of the couch next to Moyo. “Where’s Robbe?”

“Ditched us. Do you ever pay attention at lunch man?” Moyo raises a brow at him.

Jens heaves a sigh. “He couldn’t have just brought Sander with him?”

Moyo shrugs, shaking his head, before tapping Lucas’s leg. “It’s chill. We have this one instead.”

Lucas grins down at him and just manages to sidestep the kick Jens aims at his ankles. “Glad I’m a good second choice.”

“No way, you’re definitely first choice,” Moyo snorts. “At least you’re not ditching us in an hour to go make out with your boyfriend.”

Lucas can’t help the way his eyes flit to Jens, just for a split second. He can’t help but hide a smile when he realises Jens is already looking back. He looks around them for a distraction and eventually comes up with, “Amber has a pretty nice house.”

“Oh, it’s not hers,” Aaron says, and Lucas and Jens turn to frown at him. “She’s the host, but it’s Luca’s house. Amber didn’t have a free house.”

As Lucas nods in understanding, Moyo suddenly bounces to his feet, causing him to take a startled step back. “Okay, newbie. As a show of solidarity and to cement this friendship, you’re not gonna let me dance on my own, right?”

Lucas gives him a wide-eyed look. “Dance? Oh, no. Sorry, but no. I do not dance.”

“Everyone dances,” Moyo rolls his eyes. “Some people just do it better than others. And you’re pretty, so if you suck, no one cares. Like Jens.”

“Hey,” Jens butts in, literally kicking Moyo’s ass with a quick stretch of his leg. Then he slides to his feet, too, as his lips slip into a challenging smirk, and Lucas understands that he’s in trouble. “Then I’ll only dance if he does.”

He nods at Lucas, and Lucas bites back a groan. He can’t seriously be suggesting what Lucas thinks he’s suggesting. Surely, he can’t be.

“There you go.” Moyo looks much too excited, now. “Come on, you gotta come dance with your two new best friends. It’s bro code.”

Lucas raises his brows, not feeling swayed. “Since when is dancing bro code?”

“Since I became your bro and I’m asking you to dance,” Moyo shrugs.

Jens waves a hand and purses his lips in agreement, as if it’s that simple. It isn’t, until Jens heaves a sigh and sets his hand on Lucas’s shoulder another time, giving him a tiny shake. “Come on, Utrecht. I’m only all yours for another hour. Offer won’t come again.”

Lucas is almost tempted to say ‘good’ and leave it like that. It’s just that...well, the offer may never come again. He knows if he said no, the moment would move on, and Jens would either sit back down with him or be coerced into joining his friend anyway. Lucas would either be left to talk to him more or to watch him, and both sound like fairly appealing options.

But doing it with Jens is suddenly a hard offer to pass up.

Plus, it’s for Moyo. Bro code. Lucas should stick to that, right?

“I thought I’d already completed my initiation,” he complains anyway, giving Jens a pointed look.

Jens just gives his shoulder a squeeze. Lucas feels the touch right down to his toes. “Think of it as...a bonus challenge.”

Lucas can’t help it. He snorts.

It’s enough for the boys to know they’ve won. Jens releases a quiet cheer as Moyo outright whoops, and then he’s being dragged into the middle of the small crowd with a persistent hand on each arm. Lucas only groans once as he lets them pull him along, belatedly wondering how Aaron managed to escape their torture before realising he’s escaped the room entirely. Off to find his girlfriend, Lucas realises, understanding. Lucky.

The people around them part enough to leave a small circle of space, and Moyo starts moving instantly, falling into an easy rhythm. Jens isn’t long joining him, and while his movements aren’t quite as smooth, Moyo is right in that it doesn’t matter. There’s more movement in his head and shoulders than in his legs, but he manages to look good even next to Moyo. Comfortable.

Lucas does not feel comfortable. Everyone else’s limbs feel too close. The music is suddenly too loud to actually listen to, more of a pulse than an identifiable score. The room is too dim and too bright all at once, the ridiculous disco light in the corner making his vision blur red.

“Come on, no just standing there,” Moyo coaxes, and Lucas awkwardly shuffles on his feet, too tense to move the way they are.

Moyo chokes down a laugh and goes to move a step closer, but before he can judge him any longer, a girl with dark bangs and deep red lipstick appears next to him with a smile. “Hi,” she greets cheerily, setting a hand on Moyo’s arm and giving Jens a wave.

Before Lucas can worry about introducing himself, Moyo is asking her if she wants a drink and disappearing from the floor. Lucas lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s been let off the hook, and then Jens is stepping right up to him and grabbing his hands. He shakes his head with a cheeky smile, already beginning to rotate Lucas’s arms in some form of a dance. “Nuh-uh. I can see you getting ready to run. But I gotta see this now.”

“Jens,” Lucas warns, though he does nothing to pull his hands away. Jens is so close, so warm in just his red sweater, the heat seeping right through Lucas’s grey one.

He steps even closer, swaying as he goes, and moves his mouth to Lucas’s ear to speak over the music. “Just relax, Luc. Trust me. Okay?”

Lucas can do nothing but nod and hope Jens doesn’t notice how his breath hitches and his cheeks redden. Jens entwines their hands easily, fingers slipping through the web of Lucas’s, and Lucas’s heart gives a sharp stutter as Jens’s breath washes over his cheek.

Jens begins to exaggerate the movement of their arms, pushing and pulling back and forth at their sides, twisting to the rhythm as he does so. Urging Lucas to do the same. Lucas still can’t manage to do much more than tilt his shoulders back and forth in time with Jens, hoping he doesn’t look too ridiculous, not used to this in the slightest. Kes and Jayden aren’t big dancers, either, and they usually stay out of this, unless they’re incredibly drunk or high or both and intent on joking around.

It’s different, looking stupid in front of Jens, who apparently can’t look stupid even if he tries.

He seems to notice that Lucas’s stiffness isn’t easing up, and pulls back, extending their arms between them. He tugs Lucas back in and pushes him away again, and Lucas finally feels a laugh slip out, that only intensifies when Jens guides him into a spin. Lucas lets himself be twirled under Jens’s arm, unable to stop his giggles, and he comes back around to find Jens grinning. Pleased with himself.

Lucas raises a brow and then mimics his movements, lifting his arm and dragging Jens’s with him, pushing forward until the other boy is forced to twist around. Jens spins with slight dramatics, but when he comes back, he drops Lucas’s hands. Lucas doesn’t even have half a second to be disappointed before Jens is right back in his space and settling his hands on his waist.

“Relax,” he murmurs again, and now he’s really, really close. Lucas is gearing up to tell him there’s no way he could possibly relax now, but his shoulders are already drooping, his hips following the guide of Jens’s hands. His body reacting automatically to Jens’s command, the combination of his voice and his touch, and well, that’s interesting.

Lucas’s heart surely shouldn’t survive beating this fast. He’s surprised he hasn’t fainted already, with how quickly his blood must be rushing.

He sets his hands on Jens’s shoulders, because he isn’t sure what else to do with them and he needs the balance. Jens doesn’t seem to mind, keeping them moving, smiling with his face only inches away. “There we go. Now you’re getting it.”

“I absolutely am not,” Lucas snorts, but he’s smiling too. Uncontrollably.

“You are,” Jens insists. “A foal on his new legs, but he’s getting the hang of them pretty quickly.”

Lucas shakes his head, grinning, giving the other’s shoulders a light push, regretting it instantly when Jens actually steps back. Still, he keeps his hands on Lucas’s waist, ensuring he keeps moving. It’s only now, with a bit of breathing space, that Lucas remembers where they are. He remembers the people around them, right next to them, Moyo probably only gone to the kitchen, Amber and Luca and Aaron hovering around somewhere.

He takes a quick step back, doing his best to be natural about it. To not make it appear so sudden and fearful. He doesn’t want to make things weird with Jens. More than anything, he doesn’t think he could handle being teased and watching Jens easily shut them down. He’s sure he just imagines the way Jens’s expression falls for a moment, thinks it must just be minute surprise at the adjustment, because the smile returns to his face just as quickly as it had slipped. He’s dancing into Lucas’s space again in seconds, though now he keeps his hands to himself. Now he lets some of that familiar silliness creep back in. Pulling a face, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, swiveling his head to the beat, utterly ridiculous. Lucas allows himself to laugh at him as he keeps up his own awkward swaying movements.

It’s then that Moyo comes back, alone, cheering at the sight of Lucas finally putting in some effort. He immediately joins in on Jens’s antics, shimmying up to their sides and still coming across as oddly talented.

Lucas surprises himself by having fun, but they make it easy. He even manages to pick up a few steps Moyo insists on teaching him, executing them even better than Jens, much to his chagrin and Moyo’s amusement. They don’t last long, though, barely making it ten minutes before Moyo is collapsing back into his seat on the sofa and Jens is perching on the arm again. Before Lucas can just plop himself down on the floor, Jens gently grabs his wrist and pulls him forward. He sits sideways to allow Lucas to sit on the spot in front of him, propped up against Jens’s leg. Lucas smiles back at him gratefully and ignores the flutter in his chest.

Aaron has returned with Amber and Luca already, Amber comfortably tucked into his lap while Luca has taken up residence in the armchair. She winks at Lucas when he catches her gaze and Lucas grins back, sticking his tongue out at her.

They strike up an easy conversation, full of Luca and Moyo bickering as Aaron laughs along. Lucas allows himself to relax, focusing on Jens’s heavy breathing behind him, still cooling down. After a moment, Jens puts a hand on his back to keep him steady as he slips out from behind him. When Lucas looks up at him questioningly, he simply raises a brow. “Beer?”

Lucas nods, and Jens ruffles his hair before going, slipping around the mass of people and out the doorway. Lucas shifts back into his place, leaning his elbow next to Moyo’s head, and tries to catch up on the conversation.

It only takes a few minutes, however, for Luca to pull him into it anyway. “You’re already ditching us? And here I was thinking we had something special.”

Before Lucas can respond, Moyo snorts. “Jens said the same thing, so get in line.”

Lucas flushes. Luca just points at Moyo, undeterred. “Jens can kiss my ass. I was here first.” She looks to Lucas. “You still like me better than Jens, right?”

Lucas hesitates, lips parting as he searches for what to say. He can’t exactly tell her the truth, which is that he already isn’t sure there’s anyone he likes more than Jens.

Moyo is already cackling next to him. “He hesitated.”

“No,” Lucas rushes to deny, but he can’t quite prevent a small smile from slipping through, and Luca’s jaw drops in disappointment.

She heaves a sigh, shaking her head. “Whatever. I’ll never understand you boys. One day, you’ll come to your senses. One day.” She winks at him again, and Lucas can’t help but laugh, grateful for the soft smile he spots underneath her teasing.

“No, you’re still my fave, Luca,” he ends up reassuring, smiling wide as Moyo laughs again in response.

“Don’t let Jens hear you say that then. Where’d he go, anyway?”

He directs the question up at Lucas, and Lucas shrugs, looking towards the door as if Jens will magically appear. “Just to get a few drinks.”

“What, back in Utrecht?” Moyo laughs. “How fucking long does it take? I bet he saw a pretty girl and forgot all about it.”

Lucas frowns at that idea, feeling suddenly unsettled. Restless, at the realisation Moyo could very well be right. Jens has every reason to go off with whatever pretty girl he runs into and forget all about Lucas.

He rolls his eyes to mask this particular thought process, patting Moyo’s shoulder as he pushes himself up. “I’ll go check and get something myself.”

Moyo nods in acknowledgment and Lucas is off, slipping easily through the small crowd in search of the kitchen. Luca’s house really is nice, the walls all painted in neutral tones and the floors modern, doors clean cut and smooth, not yet worn by decades of age. Lucas only checks one before finding the kitchen behind the next, only to instantly stop in his tracks.

The kitchen is fairly full, groups packed around to talk and laugh in the quieter space, almost all with some type of alcohol in hand, but it’s easy to pluck Jens out of the mass. He’s off to the side of the table, two beers already in hand as he talks animatedly to a girl with long auburn hair.

Jana.

Lucas watches as Jens laughs at whatever she says in response, and then Jana is pulling out her phone and wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him in until they stand cheek to cheek. Still with massive grins. Both breathtakingly beautiful. The picture perfect couple.

Jens doesn’t step away from her after, just twists his head to look at her and say something else, and Jana tosses her head back and laughs and Lucas’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach.

Before he has even thought about it, he’s making his way back to the other room to collect his coat. He registers Moyo’s concerned glance and questioning, asking where Jens is, and Lucas mutters out an ‘I don’t know’ as he shoves his arms into the sleeves. At Moyo’s further questions, he manages to mumble some excuse about a text along with an apology, followed by a louder goodbye to the whole group before he’s gone.

He almost forgets that he has to walk home and he isn’t really sure where he’s going. The streets at least aren’t too dark, lit up by various streetlights, but it is cold. Lucas pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens his maps, typing in what he thinks is the address of his apartment with shaking fingers. His head is spinning, even though the only substances he’d consumed have long since worn off. His chest gives a sudden heave as he turns off the street, and then his eyes are prickling, and he feels more stupid than ever.

This is almost worse than his years-long infatuation with Kes. At least he’d known Kes for years.

He’s only known Jens a week. Has been his friend for even less time. He’s barely been given a chance to even set their friendship in stone, yet.

Yet here he is, about to cry over him already.

At least now, he’s completely ready to go home.

He fishes out his key once he makes it to the apartment, and it takes him a few tries to get it in the lock and jiggle it open. His nose and cheeks are frosty and surely red, and his hands are numb from having to carry his phone, but at least he didn’t get lost. He’s prepared to go straight to his room to collect his bag, but he isn’t prepared for the sight of his father in the kitchen, waiting for him at the table.

Lucas stares at him as the door falls shut and his father stands, taking a few quick steps to close the distance. Lucas just has time to register the anger in his expression before something is being shoved in his face.

It takes another moment to realise it’s his weed.

“What is this?” Hugo demands. “The slamming doors and ignoring me isn’t enough, so you decided to become a stoner too?”

Lucas can only blink at him.

The man snaps his fingers in front of his face, voice raising. “Answer me, Lucas. What the hell is this? Where did you get it?”

Lucas’s mouth is dry. He has to coerce the words out. “Why the hell were you even in my room?”

His father releases an incredulous <i>ha</i>, tossing his hands up in exasperation. “Nothing, Lucas. Nothing I’m saying is getting through to you! This is hard for everyone involved, but if you think I’m letting you off the hook with the pity card you are out of your damn mind. Is this what you hoped to do, going to live with Jayden? Get out of your mind on drugs?”

He waves the small bag in Lucas’s face, and Lucas scoffs, shoving his hand away. “It’s weed. You wouldn’t even get glanced at at home for carrying that around.”

Hugo drops his hand back to his side and stands up straight, staring at Lucas like he’s never seen him before. Lucas feels suddenly queasy. The pressure returns to his chest all at once, intensified by a dozen, and his breath hitches as he feels the panic creeping up. Don’t, he thinks. Don’t be ruined.

“If you think I’m going to tuck this into your pocket and send you off because it’s just weed, you can think again. What’s going on? This isn’t you, Lucas.”

“How the fuck would you even know?” Lucas demands, the pressure making his voice crack as it builds behind his eyes.

Hugo just shakes his head, filled with a disappointment he shouldn’t be capable of feeling. Since when does he care enough about Lucas, or have enough faith in him, to be disappointed? Since when does he have any faith at all?

“You can just stay here for the weekend then. Right here, in your room. Consider the same rule applying for the next week, and however long after that it takes for you to sort yourself out.”

No, Lucas thinks desperately. The thought is pleading, but he refuses to let his expression waver.

He knows it’s useless.

He marches to his room without another word and makes sure to slam the door behind him. His hands find their way to his hair and give a grounding tug as he leans back against the wood, cursing under his breath.

His phone pings in his pocket, and he doesn’t have the strength to immediately dig it out. He’s sure Kes is asking if he’s on his way, and Lucas doesn’t want to tell him that he can’t come at all. That the only plans he’d been looking forward to are canceled indefinitely.

He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks off his shoes before crawling onto his bed still fully clothed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He holds it above himself as he thumbs open his messages.

His throat tightens when he realises the notification had been Jens.

jensrolt: hey, Moyo said you left already? I was serious about walking you! have fun this weekend though. don’t miss me too much.

Lucas tosses the phone aside and pulls his pillow over his head.

[yikesharringrove]

(i really like hopper, but here’s this idea) so, hopper would be having a bad day cause of some troubles at work so when steve’s at cabin, cuddling and kissing with billy on the couch, he would just straight up snap when they wouldn’t listen to him and raise his voice at steve to tell him to go home. both of the boys would be shocked and when steve stands up even tho billy protest, hopper would see that steve’s eyes are watery as he walks past him to the door. hop knows he’d fucked up now.

There was a light knock on the cabin door.

Hopper looked up, his brow furrowing at the secret knock as the locks all slid open from the other room, El no doubt getting them from her bedroom.

Steve was all smiles as he came inside, giving the stupid little two finger salute he always gave Hop.

Hopper forced a smile.

“Heya, Chief. How are you?”

“Fine, and you?” His words were clipped.

He was fucking tired, had just gotten off an eleven hour shift, and was cranky, and tired, ad wanted to pass out in front of the television.

But then Billy was coming out of his room, stack of blankets obviously ripped from his bed in his arms, and tossed them on the couch.

“Steve and I are gonna have a movie night.” Billy was looking determined at Hopper. Like he was gonna say no.

Hop just waved a hand, and went to his bedroom.

He laid there for a long time, just staring at the ceiling, getting gradually more and more pissed off.

He wanted a beer, or maybe a smoke, so he shoved himself out of his bedroom.

He saw the boys on the couch, Steve laying on top of Billy as they made out. Hop rolled his eyes.

But then he heard Steve whine, and realized both of Billy’s hands were underneath the blanket, and he lost it.

“Alright!” They both jumped, scrambling about a mile from one another. “Get the fuck outta my house!” Steve stood up quickly, started putting on his shoes.

Hop got a little pang of happiness at that. Harrington was afraid of him. Good. Not gonna cross me.

“He doesn’t have to go! You said he can’t come over if you’re not here, but you’re here! And we’re not in my bedroom! We’re not breaking any rules!”

“Doing stuff on the couch in the living room, where El could see is a rule! I just never specified, because I thought you two dumbasses would just realize that.”

Billy tightened his jaw.

Steve was jamming on a sweatshirt.

“Stevie-”

“No, Bill. It’s okay. I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah, God. Go home for fuckin’ once.” Steve brushed past him, shoulders around his ears.

But then he turned around to shut the door, and Hop saw tears in his eyes.

His heart sank.

He deflated.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Billy crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” But Billy was all rigid, bracing himself.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. That wasn’t okay.” Hop kept his voice even.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Thanks.” Billy got up to switch off the t.v.

“Just, uh, please don’t have sex in common areas.” Billy rolled his eyes. Hopper took a few deep breaths. “That’s doesn’t excuse me losing my temper, but it still stands as a rule in our house.”

“I guess I’m just too much of a dumbass to get that.” Hopper reached for Billy.

And he flinched.

Billy hadn’t flinched around Hopper in months.

It made Hopper’s heart fucking break.

“I shouldn’t have said that, and I shouldn’t have yelled, and I’m sorry.” Billy just nodded at him, his jaw still set. Hop sighed.

“Let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay? Call Harrington tomorrow morning, tell him to come for breakfast or something, and I’ll apologize to him too, alright?” Billy kept grinding his jaw, but he nodded once. Hop nodded back. “Get some sleep, kiddo.”

Billy rolled his eyes, picking up all his blankets, shuffling back to his room.

-

Steve was quiet the next day, could barely look at Hopper over his plate of pancakes.

Hop let breakfast go, as silent and stiff as it was.

El must’ve heard the whole thing last night, had given Hop the silent treatment in solidarity with Billy and Steve.

Hopper cleared his throat.

“I wanted to apologize to you. To both of you.” Steve glanced up at him, put quickly looked back down. “I shouldn’t have yelled, or said what I did. You’re not dumbasses, and that was harsh.”

Steve forced a smile.

He was good at faking it. Hopper would’ve been convinced by the pleasant, easy grin if he hadn’t seen Steve laughing and smiling with Billy so much.

“Thank you, Chief. But it’s okay. We crossed a line.”

“I crossed a bigger line. And it’s not okay, so put your fake country club smile away.” Steve’s fake smile slid off his face. He bit his lip. “I can’t expect you two to be perfect angels all the time. You’re kids. You can be wild and reckless, and not think things through. It wasn’t okay for me to yell at you both.” He ground his jaw. “And if you two want to, want to have a date night here or something, El and I can clear out for a night sometimes soon.”

Billy looked up at him, his eyes wide.

“Seriously?”

“I know you two can’t go out, so you can do something here. El can have a sleepover with Max one night.”

“And you can take Joyce out.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows at Hop. He felt his face going hot.

“Well, maybe.” Steve smiled a real one.

“Thanks, Chief.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Just, you know, take advantage of one night without all my rules. But just,” he glanced at El, “no common surfaces, and please clean up.” Steve’s cheeks went a little pink.

“This gonna become a regular thing, then?” Billy was smirking at him, Steve had taken more pancakes, started eating like a real person, not taking weird controlled bites.

“Absolutely not. Just wanted to make it up to you two. Give you one night without me breathing down your necks.”

“Nah. You’re going soft. This is totally gonna be a regular thing.” Billy was talking all easy and drawn out again, teasing Hop some more. Hopper’s stomach relaxed as he poked fun, meant Billy wasn’t afraid of him.

He still wanted Steve to be a little intimidated, though. He thinks that would be okay.

“Don’t push your luck, brat.”

[queenofbaws]

What do you get when you throw all of the Supermassive boys in a room together?

((so look. i know this is supposed to be a six sentence sat(or)sunday prompt but i’m gonna be real with all of you: this puppy needed a few more than six ;P))

With the bar buzzing in preparation of its weekly trivia night as it was, no one was really looking at them, but if anyone had been looking at them, nothing - absolutely nothing - would’ve prepared them for the way they seemed to collapse into one another the moment he left to get himself a drink from the back.

“We’re not taking him,” Alex said, heading off the conversation before any of the others could so much as open their mouths, “It’s not even on the table.”

“Oh yeah? And what, pray tell, makes you the ultimate authority on team assignments?” Josh leaned back against the back of his seat and cocked his head just to the side, fixing Alex with a half-smirk that he didn’t much care for. “We don’t want him either. He’s a liability. You guys take him, maybe he’ll help raise your combined IQ to something closer to boiling.”

Alex leaned across the gap separating their two tables, fully prepared to go full ‘nuh-uh, yeah-huh’ with Josh if that’s what it came to, only for Mike to appear next to him, all but laying across their table. “Oh no, oh nononononono, see, here’s the thing - thanks for the concern, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough brain power between us to hold our own, okay? And just from an aesthetic point of view, guy doesn’t fit here. He belongs at the nerd table. You reap what you sow, and this is what you’ve been planting the past three fucking weeks with your dumbass team names - ”

From beside Josh, Chris bristled. “Chekov’s Pun wasn’t a dumbass team name! It was hilarious, number one, and - ”

Mike, his eyes never leaving Josh’s, waved his hand towards Chris with a flourish. ‘Voilà’ that motion said, ‘Case in fucking point.’

“Mmm...nope, see, okay, time out.” Conrad set his beer down and took to spinning one of the bar’s chintzy coasters along the table with his finger. “I’d like to formally take offense at you calling us the nerd table. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a nerd, and trust me...” his other arm he stretched out until his elbow rested on Brad’s shoulder, “I know what a nerd is.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“We,” Conrad continued with a derisive snicker, “Are not the nerd table.”

“Except you are,” Matt said from across the way, “You’re the nerd table and we’re the jock table. It’s just sort of like...obvious. Right?” He glanced around to his other tablemates, each of whom nodded enthusiastically.

In a show of solidarity that should’ve made them all exceptionally wary, Josh and Conrad exchanged a look before turning back to them. “All right…” Conrad began, shaking his head and flaring both hands before running them through his hair. “All right. Okay. All right. Hold the fucking phone, my good dudes. What reality are you coming from where Dr. McDreamy counts more as a jock than a nerd?” He favored Alex with an expectant look. “Hate to break it to you, A-Bomb, but guess what? You’re a fucking nerd. Med school. Makes you. A. Fucking. Nerd.”

“Being a nerd has nothing to do with how smart you are!” Mike interjected, “Being a nerd is about how proud you are about your fucking…I don’t know, Gundam collection back home!”

Brad threw his hands up into the air before whirling on his brother. “You told them about my Gundams?!”

“Look—”

“Shut up,” Josh said, waving a hand between Alex and Brad to keep that particular sibling dispute from boiling over. “If that’s how we’re defining nerdom, Mr. Class Prez, then sorry, hate to break it to you, Daniel should be here with us too.”

“As if! I’m a jock where it matters!” As though it somehow proved his point (it didn’t), Daniel crunched down onto a frighteningly large handful of nachos, a shower of tortilla chip dust pattering onto the plate in front of him. “Check these guns!”

“Yeah, Dan’s a jock, that part is non-negotiable.”

“Like fuck he is! A popped collar on a polo isn’t enough to make you a goddamn jock when you can recite Lynyrd Skynyrd’s entire discography forwards and backwards—”

“Including B-sides,” Daniel corrected him, seemingly oblivious to the fact he was, in essence, proving Josh’s point for him.

There was (relative) silence between their two factions then: Alex, Mike, Matt, and Daniel on the one side; Josh, Conrad, Chris, and Brad on the other, neither backing down, neither blinking as they waited to see who folded first in this shitty game of trivia team chicken.

When they remembered that time was, in fact, an issue, Chris heaved a sigh. “Dude’s weird, okay? You guys take him just this one time and—”

“Weird,” Alex said flatly. “You’re sitting with fucking Josh, and you’re going to talk to us about goddamn weird.”

The nerd table went quiet at that.

It was a good point.

A devastating point, really.

The best point he could’ve made, considering.

Eyes narrowed, Josh held Alex’s stare for another beat, looking away only once they heard footsteps nearing their tables. “Heyyy, Andrew,” he said cheerfully enough as the final member of their little cohort returned with his drink in hand, “Pull up a seat, buddy boy.”

“Looks like you’ve officially been conscripted onto the winning team,” Conrad added, though he was slightly less convincing when it came to hiding his displeasure. He raised his own beer to his mouth again, hoping it hid some of his exasperation. “Glad to have you aboard.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks guys!”

[mendeshoney]

“the things we carry” - vince dunn

A/N: Here it is! The first part of my new series. This one will also feature an original female character. I’ve been workshopping this for a couple of months now and it’s finally ready. Thank you again to @m00nlightdelights​ for being a great beta and @penaltbox​ for allowing me to feature you in the story, I love you both!

Chapter One

Callie can barely breathe as she enters the crowded bar, craning her neck in search of her friends.

She really should be at home, studying in the kitchen of her on campus apartment and cramming for her midterm the following week, but instead she listened to Jenna, her best friend and roommate, who encouraged her to let loose and relax.

“You can only cram for your media midterm so much.” Jenna had said earlier at lunch. “And besides, it’s Saturday night! The guys haven’t seen you in awhile, and they miss you. Plus,” she paused, placing a comforting arm on her shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s time you get back out there? Into the real world? I know it hurt...what with Noah and all, but this might help you finally move on.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive.” Callie said.

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Would it make it better if I told you that Vince will be there?”

Callie’s heart thrummed at the memory. She hated how after all this time, even after his relationship and hers, she still couldn’t shake the idiotic crush she had on Vince, but she learned to bury it and keep it hidden away along with all of her other stupid feelings anyway.

Besides, she can manage a night out. Even if it’s only for a little.

She finally spots Jenna’s brown locks in the corner and makes her way through the crowd, clutching tight to her crossbody bag as she goes. The crowd eventually parts and she spots Jenna and their mutual friend, Vivian, sitting in a booth while Sammy, MacKenzie, and Jordan linger around.

Jenna smiles when she spots Callie, shoving Sammy out of the way to greet Callie with a hug before hauling her toward the booth. Vivian hugs her too as she settles into the booth, and MacKenzie laughs.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show.” He teases.

“Yeah,” Jordan agrees. “We were just about to start placing bets.”

“Very funny.” Callie says dryly. “I told Jenna I was coming.”

Sammy scoffs. “Only because Dunner’s gonna be here.”

Callie’s heart plunges to her stomach. 

So her crush on him wasn’t as well hidden in the first place, apparently.

“He’s been asking for you, you know.” Jordan chimes in. “You haven’t been out in a while, he was starting to worry.”

“Doesn’t help that he’s completely fucking gone for you.” Sammy mutters, but Callie doesn’t catch it.

Jenna does though, and swats Sammy in the stomach and he doubles over, face wincing at the blow. Callie smiles at her roommate in thanks, assuming he made some stupid remark. Jenna shoves a beer in her direction and says “Drink up babes, we’re only in college once.”

Callie takes a sip to appease her, but shoves the rest of it toward Jordan, who happily accepts. 

It’s easy for them to fall into their normal routine then, and for a moment Callie feels relaxed, the rest of her stressors falling away. 

An hour passes and gradually more people start to show up - more of the guys’ teammates, including Vince, as well as some of Jenna’s friends, and other kids from school, and Callie feels swallowed whole in the mass surrounding the booth.

She gets hot suddenly, too many people and too many faces, and craves the solidarity of her bedroom. She’s done enough socializing tonight, she thinks, and realizes as well she forgot to eat dinner. 

You’re so boring. A distant voice calls from her memory. She ignores it.

Home it is.

Carefully, she extracts herself from the booth to find Jenna by the bar, talking with Jordan and Colton. Jenna looks like she’s having fun, and for a second she thinks maybe if she clung to Jenna’s side a little longer it wouldn’t be so bad.

But then a head of curls emerges from the crowd and begins to approach the group from behind Colton, and Callie taps Jenna on the shoulder, gesturing toward the door. “I think I’m gonna go.” Callie says, making up her mind on the spot. “It’s a little too much.”

Jenna frowns a little, but nods in agreement anyway. “Okay, let me just grab my things and we can-“

“No no no, stay.” Callie says, putting her hand on her roommate’s shoulder gently. “You stay. I can handle getting home alone.”

“But-“

“It’s fine.” She insists, hugging Jenna and bidding goodbye to the guys before heading out.

Callie only makes it a few steps outside of the club before hearing her name being called from behind her. She turns, surprised to see Vince jogging to catch up with her.

“Did I forget something?” She asks, patting her pockets down.

“No I just -” He starts, breath puffing visibly in the cool night air as he speaks. “I barely got to talk to you. I didn’t even get a chance to say hi.” When he gets close enough, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap her in a hug.

Her heart thunders in her chest unnecessarily as she hugs him back, a little hypnotized by the scent of his cologne. He’s just being nice. She reminds herself. “Sorry.” She replies as they part. “I just don’t-“

“You don’t like crowds.” Vince finishes for her. “I know. Jenna mentioned it. She also mentioned you were heading home and didn’t want you to walk alone, so I thought I’d give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to.” Callie replies. “Really, just because Jenna asked doesn’t mean you have to-“

“She didn’t ask.” He promises. “I’m offering because I want to. Besides, it’s freezing out and I also don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.” 

He takes out his keys and presses a button, and Callie jumps a little as she hears his car beep from beside her. She didn’t even realize they’d been standing next to it this whole time.

“Are you sure?” Callie checks. “Didn’t you just get here? I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

“Callie,” Vince says softly. He shakes his head, taking a step closer into her space, but still far enough that he doesn’t hear the jack hammering in her rib cage at the way his mouth curls around her name. “You could never ruin my night.”

There’s a pause where Callie realizes she’s been holding in a breath, so she releases it in a sigh, nodding and taking a step back from him. Vince smiles, opening the passenger door for her and closing it once she’s safely tucked inside.

He jogs over to the driver’s seat, climbing in and shutting the door before facing Callie with a soft smile. She smiles in return, unsure of what to say, and the car rumbles to life beneath them. Vince turns on the seat heaters for both of them, and she thanks him quietly as he pulls away from the bar.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, tapping on the steering wheel. “I don’t mind stopping to grab something to eat.”

She wants to say no, but her stomach growls in response to his inquiry from where it’s hidden behind her high waisted jeans. Callie flushes, immediately embarrassed, but Vince chuckles softly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, then glances at her with his charming smile. “Don’t worry about it, I’m starving too.”

A nod is all she can manage, trying to stop her stomach from swooping. This isn’t a date. She chastises herself. He’s just being nice. Vince smiles at her, making a u-turn and heading in the opposite direction of her apartment. As he drives, he rests his arm on the back of her seat.

Several minutes pass before Vince parks at a small diner right outside of campus. She follows him inside and to a booth, ignoring the way their knees knock together under the table as they settle in.

“I’m thinking pancakes.” He says easily, rambling on about something on the menu when Callie realizes-

This is the first time they’ve hung out alone together in a long time. 

Sure they’ve spoken alone, or been alone while hanging out, but their friends were always in the next room over, or a few feet away, or right next to them engrossed in their own conversation. If she can recall correctly, the last time she was alone with him was at his birthday party last month, and that was only for a brief moment, wishing him a happy birthday and asking him how he was doing before he got ripped away by other partygoers. 

She realizes all at once she zoned out, and Vince is looking at her expectantly. 

You never fucking pay attention. The same voice from her memory resurfaces, biting in reminder.

Callie smiles, pushing the voice away, embarrassed at her spacing out. “Sorry, what?”

Vince either didn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he leans across the table easily, getting closer. “I asked you if you wanted to split some pancakes with me. Or waffles, or french toast. Either one is fine really.”

She raises a brow at him. “Are you allowed to eat that kind of stuff when the season just started?”

Vince waves it off. “I’ll be good, don’t worry. So what do you think?”

Callie’s stomach grumbles quietly, eyeing several things on the menu, but thinks better of it. “I can do that, yeah. Pancakes, waffles, french toast, doesn’t matter.”

“Will you eat fries too?” He asks.

Stop eating so unhealthy. You do it to yourself. The voice chastises, and she pushes it down, nodding at Vince.

“Sounds good.”

He smiles, and a waitress approaches. Callie’s happy to let Vince order for them both, and he does, ordering a Belgian waffle with extra strawberries, a side of bacon, a large order of fries to split, and a slice of red velvet cake for afterwards. She orders herself a lemonade and Vince gets coffee.

She tries not to think of the alarm she’ll have to set to go to the gym in the morning.

When the waitress leaves with their menus, Vince makes a show of stretching out his arms across the table before leaning back against the booth, giving her a look she can’t read.

She endures his gaze for a beat more than she’s comfortable with, but her skin starts to crawl and her heart feels like it’s going to jump out of her chest, so she finally meets his eyes, shocked when he looks right back into hers.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks. There’s a part of him that’s clearly teasing, but she nods.

“Yeah, doing good.” She assures. “How’ve you been lately?”

“I’ve been good, thanks for asking. But that’s not what I meant when I asked you.”

Callie’s brow furrows. “I don’t-”

“Jenna told me at my birthday party.” He explains. “About you and Noah...about what happened. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you then.”

Her heart sinks into her stomach, and she frowns. “Oh...I um...yeah.”

Vince is frowning now too, and leans forward on his elbows. “Are you doing okay?”

She nods, plastering a smile on her face as she says “Yeah, fine. It was six months ago, so it’s cool.”

He isn’t buying it. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know.” He says. “I was that way after Sarah and I broke up last year.”

“I’m fine,” she says again. “I’ve had time to move on.”

“He didn’t deserve you, you know.” Vince says. “You were way too good for him, and he was kind of an asshole.”

Callie blinks. Never in a million years did she expect to hear that from Vince. “Yeah well, you’re not wrong there. He was definitely an asshole.”

“Was it messy?”

“Not really, it was a long time coming and it’s for the best.” There’s more truth to that than not.

Vince stares at her, probably knowing she’s not being fully honest, but thankfully drops it when their waitress returns with their drinks. Callie’s appreciative for the distraction, thanking her and taking a sip of her lemonade immediately. 

“So,” he says, pouring sugar into his coffee. “How’s school going? Jenna says you guys have midterms coming up?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s been a little nuts. Overall it’s good, I just have my media midterm left and it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Media?” Vince asks. “What’s that one about?”

“It’s technically the first draft of my thesis.” Callie says, grabbing sugar for her lemonade. The lemonade is good on its own, but she could use the sugar boost. The longer she’s alone with Vince the more she has to remember they’re just friends and her old crush on him shouldn’t still be a thing.

He’s just being nice and probably doesn’t want to eat by himself. She reasons. 

“My media professor is also my advisor, so they’re letting me turn in the first draft of my thesis instead of doing the midterm, but I also have to present on it so it’s just making me nervous.”

“Are you done with it?” He asks, then gives her a boyish smile. “I’m not taking you away from your studies, am I Callie?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, you’re fine. I’m done with it, I just keep trying to study my presentation and notes so I don’t forget anything.”

“Well I’m all ears.” He says.

Callie stares at him for a beat, confused. “I...what?”

“Try your presentation out on me.” Vince explains, taking another sip of his coffee. “I know I skipped college and whatever but I promise I’m not dumb. Or...I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“Vince,” it comes out more sincere than she expected. “You are not dumb. Or dumb-looking.”

He laughs, genuine and loud, but moves his hands as if to say “come on.”

Callie takes a deep breath, racking her brain for something to say that she can cling to and explain to Vince without allowing him to know how fast her heart is beating in her rib cage.

“Well my thesis is about media representation versus media reflection. Media reflection being how the media we consume is also a direct reflection of things that we go through on a day to day basis, and using popular culture as a reference,” Callie begins. “So one of the big examples I use is with Netflix, and how a lot of their recent series that they’ve released as a studio tie in current socio political issues into their episodes to give the issue a more ‘digestible’ platform for its viewers. Like Black Mirror.”

She launches into her little spiel, trying to remember different factoids from her notes and from her paper. Vince seems extremely intrigued, asking questions in between and appearing shocked at certain “plot twists” Callie discovered in her research. 

One thing she highlights is season three episode one, the episode that reflects on the discourse of social media, which grabs Vince’s attention even further, and he barely bats an eyelash when the waitress brings their food over.

When she’s done, Vince is staring at her in awe, a smile on his face. She flushes under his gaze, embarrassed, fearing she sounds like a know-it-all, or like she’s rambled too much. 

“Sorry,” she says, lowering her voice. “Did I-”

“Don’t apologize.” He insists. “That was incredible.” He swipes a strawberry through the whipped cream on their waffle and takes a bite, and Callie’s stomach flips, watching his lips curl around the fruit, coming back red, whipped cream in the corner of his mouth that he catches with his tongue.

“Callie?” He asks. When she looks at him, he’s smirking.

Fuck. You did it again. Get it together Callie.

“Sorry.” She says, casting her eyes down at the food. “What did you say?”

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous. I know it’s stupid because it doesn’t make you less nervous, but I mean it. You’re smart - don’t doubt that.”

“Well I appreciate that.” She says, taking a bite of a french fry. “And this,” she says, gesturing to the food. “Sorry I keep spacing out.”

“It’s fine, Callie. You’ve got a lot going on. And stop apologizing - you’re not doing anything wrong.”

Callie smiles at Vince, grateful, and he smiles right back.

They finish their food and Callie listens intently to Vince recalling his offseason back home in Canada, and what happened since she last saw him - which was after they won the cup earlier in the year. She asks about his mom, and how all of his gaming is going, and laughs when he talks about the ridiculous things Sammy does to annoy Vince at all hours of the day. 

At one point, his foot knocks against hers under the table, and she nudges his back. Eventually, he hooks their ankles together, gauging her reaction as he does. Callie nearly explodes internally, but she playfully smiles at him, trying to appear calm and collected.

Vince doesn’t even give Callie the chance to reach for her wallet, handing his card over the minute their waitress comes to give them their slice of red velvet cake. She thanks Vince, digging in, making sure to leave him most of the cream cheese frosting, distantly recalling he once mentioned to her that he has a sweet tooth.

They wrap up and Vince leads Callie back out to the parking lot, holding the door to the diner open for her, and when she crosses the threshold, he takes her by surprise, and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. She reaches up instinctively, lacing her fingers in his hand. 

It still isn’t a date. She reminds herself. 

He lets go a beat later to open the door to his passenger side, same as he did earlier in the night, but when he gets in himself, Vince rests his hand on the center console face up, and Callie shyly obliges, heart fluttering when he laces their fingers together and squeezes.

He drives toward Callie’s apartment, the radio playing a soft R&B song that Vince hums along to. The street lights cast shadows and soft glows on his face, and Callie tries, and miserably fails, to not ogle him. He catches her a couple of times, squeezing her hand to let her know he can see her.

Her apartment building is a couple of blocks away when Vince speaks again.

“Callie.” He says, eyes still on the road. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When’s your media midterm supposed to be?”

“Next Thursday, in the morning.” She recalls.

He nods as he turns the corner, pulling in front of her building. He puts the car in park, turning his body to Callie, but his eyes remain on their intertwined hands. “Got any other obligations after the midterm? Any special plans?”

“Napping maybe, but otherwise no. Why?” She hopes to high heaven her voice doesn’t betray her, because she feels like her skin is vibrating.

“Well we’re going on the road for a couple of games, but we’ll be back next Wednesday. I was thinking, maybe after your nap, you and I could grab dinner again?” She blinks, and he plows on. “I mean, I had a nice time tonight. And it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, and I kinda like it when you’re around. And since you’re not seeing anyone, and I’m not seeing anyone, I thought that maybe we-”

“Dinner sounds great.” She says, taking him and herself by surprise. She squeezes his hand before leaning over the console, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Vince’s face flushes red and he clears his throat. “Awesome. Do you want me to walk you up?”

Callie shakes her head, fishing for her keys in her crossbody with her free hand. “I’m good. And thank you - for the ride, for dinner. I had a great time too.”

When she opens the door and her fingers start to slip from his, he squeezes again, tugging her toward him. 

Callie only has a couple of seconds to react when she realizes what’s going on, and allows her body to go lax, following his lead.

His lips are on hers, intertwined hands resting between them on the console, Vince’s other hand cradling her cheek to pull her close as he kisses her. She kisses back, goosebumps forming on her arms. He tastes like strawberries and frosting, and in the back of her mind she starts to wonder if maybe having a sweet tooth isn’t all that bad.

When Vince pulls back, it’s slow and gentle, pressing faint kisses on her lips repeatedly before settling back into his seat with a satisfied smile.

Callie blushes, licking her lips, still tasting him there. Vince watches the movement with careful eyes, but remains where he is.

“Goodnight Callie,” he says, voice like syrup.

“Goodnight Vince,” she responds, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go, and heading into her building.

[thepartyresponsible]

another soundtrack fill! this is for the anon who asked for  bucky barnes/jason todd and “vengeance” by neoni, which i had never heard before, but which is definitely a “killing monsters with giant robots” song.

so here’s a pacific rim au. the only surprise here is that it’s taken me so long to write one.

                                                        ---

Echo Lazarus and Bullseye Lucky throw Scorpio back into the Pacific, but the Kaiju’s barbed stinger rips a hole clear through Laz’s chestplate first. Twenty seconds later, Lucky executes it with a shot through a weak point in its cranial bones. Jason would take that less personally if the damage had been on his side of Laz, instead of Frank’s. Probably.

“Fucking assholes,” he says, fighting free of the harness, elbowing his way out of the Conn-Pod. “Kill-stealing chucklefucks,” he continues, right over the top of Frank’s half-assed attempts to calm him down. “I’m sick of this shit, Castle.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says. There’s a bit of blood on his mouth, but it’s from smashing his lip against his helmet, not from neural overload or internal bleeding. When he wipes it away, no more leaks out to replace it. “Nice of you to check in.”

“I know you’re fine, Castle,” Jason says, ignoring the still-panicked thudding of his heart. “Fuck off.”

He stomps his way free of Lazarus and shoulder-checks Frank seconds later, relieved by the solid warmth of him. Relieved, also, by the exasperation in Frank’s face as he shoves Jason out of his personal space.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. And then, a beat later, a bit more intent: “Jason. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Jason says. Because he does. His brain was Frank’s brain was their brain when the hit landed. The fear that flooded them was Jason’s, not Frank’s.

Frank’s not scared of dying. Jason’s not that nervous about it, either. But being linked while the other dies? Feeling Frank fade away like water down a drain?

Yeah, sure. That scares the hell out of him.

“Jason,” Frank says, looking at him, sidelong and flat. Outside of the Drift, he never seems to know what to say.

“You’re fine,” Jason repeats, sullenly, dutifully. “I know that. I do. I told you.”

He flattens himself obligingly against the hallway wall, lets the techs swarm past him to get to Echo Lazarus. None of them even make eye-contact, and Jason knows what that means. Their Jaeger will need extensive repairs. They’ll be out for a week or two, minimum, and they won’t even get a recorded kill out of this little shitshow.

Bullseye Lucky will get the kill. Again.

“If I break their knees,” Jason says, as the crew of techs scuttles between them, “they’ll stop stealing our fucking kills.”

Frank rolls his eyes. When they’re in their own brains, he likes to pretend he’s indifferent to this whole business. But Jason’s been in his thoughts. He knows how Frank feels about the Kaiju. He lost his whole family to these ocean-borne bastards, his wife and his little girl, his son. He likes the kill just as much as Jason does.

It’s a balm. A comedown. It’s a moment of catharsis they both need more than they want to acknowledge, and Lucky has stolen three of their last four, and Jason’s losing his mind about it, a little.

“If you cause a big scene about this,” Frank says, “I will not have your back when Barnes knocks you on your ass.”

Jason scoffs. Audibly. And then, just to be sure Frank hears him, he does it again, louder, with more emphasis in his jaw and shoulders. “Fuck you, Castle,” he says. “You’re gonna have my back forever.”

Frank rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t argue.

Forever means for as long as he can. Forever means today and, if they’re lucky, tomorrow. And they have tomorrow because Jason flinched when he saw the hit coming, because he threw everything he had into moving, directing that hit anywhere that wasn’t right at Frank.

They have tomorrow because Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes shot Scorpio through the skull, and so now Jason will never know if he and Frank could’ve saved themselves. He can’t come down, can’t feel safe.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Jason says.

   Barton and Barnes aren’t generally known for partying, but a beer or two seems to knock the taste of Kaiju ichor out of their mouths. Jason finds Clint tucked away at the little on-base bar, which exists primarily to stop Rangers from going out among the civilian populace and regaling them with the most recent stories of how close they all came to absolute annihilation.

“Hey, shithead,” he says, as he slides up next to Barton at the bar, “quick question: are you at least getting off on giving me blue balls? Because someone should be getting off. And it’s damn sure not me.”

“Christ,” Frank says, with a heavy sigh. He elbows up between them and directs bleak, beseeching eyes toward the watchful bartender. “Help me.”

“Sure,” the bartender says. “Is that a single or a double?”

“Please, yeah, tell me all about your balls, Todd,” Clint mutters, in a tone just as deeply skeptical as Frank’s. “They definitely don’t feature in my brain enough.”

“A double,” the bartender says, with a decisive nod. “Sure.” He starts pouring. Frank grunts what would probably be a thank you, if he took his head out of his hands.

“What the fuck does that mean, Barton?” Jason says, leaning half over Frank’s shoulders to see him. “Are you daydreaming about my balls? Because I’ll give you a free sample if you stop sniping my fucking kills.”

Clint swivels his head to stare at the side of Frank’s. “Can you,” he says, low and deeply felt, “believe this shit?”

“Absolutely,” Frank says, as he takes a hearty swig of whiskey. “Believe it? Yes. Hate every minute of it? Also yes.”

“Can I tell him?” Clint asks. “Can I just--”

“Hey,” Jason says, because he’s finally caught sight of Barnes, skulking in the shadowy back of the bar. Barnes is like that. Jason’s noticed. It can be full summery sunshine, and Barnes will find a way to be evasive and out of sight. Jason always manages to catch sight of him anyway, though. He’s not hyperaware of the guy. It’s just basic situational awareness. “Hey, asshole.”

“Thank God,” Clint says, and Frank taps his tumbler against the side of Clint’s glass in a show of solidarity that Jason finds both deeply disloyal and completely unacceptable. He steals their drinks as recompense and then stalks across the bar.

Bucky looks up at Jason gets closer. His hair is too long again, still wet from his post-fight shower, falling across his face and curling, a little, at the ends. His eyes are bright blue and narrowed, wary like a stray cat. He’s wearing a PPDC t-shirt and old jeans. He looks ridiculous. He’s an asshole.

Because Barton will come through when you need him, but he’s not the mother hen on the team. Lucky’s been stealing kills because Bucky Barnes can’t keep his hands off the trigger.

“That for me?” Bucky asks, pointing at the whiskey in Jason’s hand.

“No,” Jason says, and he takes a quick sip to establish ownership. It’s smoky as hell, because Frank likes that kind of old man garbage, but Jason drinks it anyway.

Bucky points at Clint’s drink. “So the beer’s for me?”

“The beer is also mine,” Jason says. He downs a bit of that, too. “Why the hell would I be bringing you a drink?”

“Gratitude?” Bucky says, eyebrow cocked. “For saving your ass?”

“My ass was never in danger,” Jason says. “Fuck you for worrying about my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen your ass,” Bucky says, “but it’s really difficult to--”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Jason puts the glasses down on the table. “We’re gonna skip straight to the part where we fight?”

Bucky steals Frank’s stolen whiskey. “You brought me a drink. I figured ass talk was allowed.”

Jason’s jaw drops. He rescues the beer before it falls victim to similar machinations. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, Barnes. We can talk about asses. We can talk about how I’m gonna kick yours all the way to--”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans forward, elbow on the table, and he looks good, when he comes out of the shadows like that. The light does nice things for his cheekbones, for his eyes, for the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curl of his smirking mouth. “Is that really what you want to do with my ass?”

Jason swallows. He takes a long, fortifying drink of the beer in his hand. He’s been learning about these kind of tactics from Frank. Stalling, Frank tells him. Tactical misdirection.

But he’s just a kid from Gotham, and he plays by Gotham rules. The Joker’s always wild, the stakes are always high, and you call every bluff you find, because you’ve always got less to lose.

He sets the glass on the table. It’s empty, anyway. He’s great at tactical stalling. A Goddamn natural.

“I dunno, Barnes. Do you have any suggestions of something else I could do with your ass?”

   Hours later, Barnes still isn’t out of ideas, but they’re catching their breath through another round of tactical stalling. “Jesus,” Jason says. “Did you see those shitheads high-fiving when we left? Frank won’t even let me high-five him.”

“He and Clint have a history,” Bucky says. Which Jason knows, thank you. He’s seen plenty of Barton in the Drift. “Anyway, Clint’s been bitching at me about you for months.”

Jason furrows his brow and looks over at him. The sheets are bunched up at mid-thigh. Bucky doesn’t look any less beautiful than he did when he shoved Jason backwards onto this bed, but he at least has the decency to look winded and considerably mussed.

“Months,” he repeats, trying to infuse the word with all the dubiousness a single syllable can hold. “What the hell do you mean, months?”

The look Bucky gives him indicates that maybe he’s not interested in Jason for his brain. In fact, it seems to suggest that he doubts Jason has one. “Oh, fuck you,” he says. “What? You want me to say it?”

Jason doesn’t know what the hell Bucky is or isn’t saying. When they left the bar, he figured they were going to work out their shared aggression in a way that wouldn’t get either one of them demoted or transferred. He’d held onto that assumption until Bucky started treating him like he was something worth putting effort into, and he’d been too busy after that to do any complicated reanalysis.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to say it.”

Bucky makes a face at him, a sideways smush of his mouth and a long look up through his ludicrous eyelashes. He reaches up to touch the side of Jason’s face, fingertips gentle as they run across the freshly bruised skin, the only sign on Jason’s body that he almost died today.

If Bucky had touched him like that four hours ago, Jason would’ve slapped his hand away and told him to go to hell.

Right now, he wants to lean into it. He holds himself still.

“I’m not stealing your kills on purpose,” Bucky tells him, gaze dropping from the bruise on Jason’s hairline to look him straight in the eyes, pinning him to the bed. “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Jason swallows. He tips his head into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky leans in and kisses him like he can’t help himself.

“You’re still a kill-stealing piece of shit, Barnes,” Jason says, mouth an inch from Bucky’s, staring up into the bright blue of his stardust eyes.

Bucky looks down at him for a moment, mouth caught between a smirk and a smile. “Uh-huh,” he says. He kisses him again, on his cheek, on his jaw, in a line down his throat to his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”