#not full lemon though that's going too far

[ceiling-karasu]

Update for The Rod That Blocks the Lightning: I will be posting the first few chapters Sunday or Monday evening

Summary: With the destruction of the main forces of the invading Weasel Army, the surviving enemy factions feud against each other for control. Geumsaegi’s assumptions on easily continuing his mission is dashed by the competence of the new-coming leaders, as well as the continued survival of his nemesis, Mulmangcho. However, between the ineptitude of the general ranks and the infighting, Geumsaegi can still see a slim chance at success. With a new order of espionage and scout hunters coming into play, will the disguised squirrel be able to protect his beloved Flower Hill without sacrifice?

[ellecdc]

'Doctor' Sirius?

chef!Sirius Black x mixologist!reader who injures herself at work

CW: fem!reader, description of injury (slice to hand) that needs stitches, blood, hospital, A&E, Jeffrey, bullying Jeffrey part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

The familiar ache in the middle of Sirius’ shoulder blades alerted him to the fact that he was officially half way through his shift.

He took a moment to straighten up, letting his arms fall lax beside his body as he pointed his face to the ceiling. 

He could already hear Regulus berating him for his abysmal posture and Lily lecturing him about how he clearly hasn’t been doing the yoga routine that she sent him whilst James and Remus snickered at his expense.

He hated (loved) them all.

Almost as much as he hated how Jeffery kept showing up in his sodding kitchen. 

“If you’re coming to try to pilfer one of my staff, you’re barking mad.” He spat angrily as he carried on in his sautéing.

“Uhm, I’m sorry chef, but I really need to borrow Caleb.” Sirius heard you reply as his cheeks immediately heated up in embarrassment.

“Dammit; sorry Y/N.” He apologized quickly, lowering the heat on his burner and turning to give you what he hoped was his most sincere (yet dashing) apologetic smirk.

The salacious comment he had prepared died on his lips when he noticed you looking a tad alarmed as you instructed Caleb to take over the bar for you.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked quickly, barely remembering to turn the burner off completely before he was making for you.

“I’m okay...” You offered, not sounding like you completely believed yourself.

“That’s not what I asked.” Sirius grumbled as he took in your form, noticing you holding a black bar towel in your fist; knuckles turning white from how hard you were holding it.

The black of the fabric may have hidden evidence of what had taken place prior to you entering his kitchen, but he could make a deduction from the blood collecting between your fingers as it began to drip down your knuckles.

“You’re hurt.” He surmised, pulling your hand toward him.

“I’m okay.” You offered again, this time in a whisper. 

“Let me see it.” He instructed just as softly, encouraging the towel from your hands to expose a deep slice across the palm of your hand. 

Sirius made an embarrassingly sympathetic cooing sound as he replaced the towel on your hand and applied pressure to the wound. “What happened?”

“Was slicing lemons.” You offered quietly, refusing to look at Sirius as you kept your gaze down towards where your hand was sitting in his. 

Sirius tsked as he pulled your hand further into his chest as if proximity alone could heal it. “You have a kitchen full of well-trained staff and you thought to slice lemons on your own?”

You chuckled self-deprecatingly at that, but Sirius could tell your usual enthusiasm was dimmed. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“If anyone in my kitchen ever accuses you of being a bother, you tell me; got it?”

“Yes chef.” You answered quickly, and though you still wouldn’t look at Sirius, he could see a small smile grace the corner of your lips. 

He would take it. 

He realized then that his kitchen was far too quiet and looked up to notice that everyone’s attention was directed at the two of you. 

“You lot can stare at people in your own time; get back to work.” He barked, causing everyone to quickly avert their gazes and carry on in their tasks. 

“Bunch of sods.” Sirius mumbled as he turned back to you, fighting the urge to push some of your hair that had fallen from its elastic behind your ear.

“Come, we’ll get you fixed up.” He said quietly instead, ushering you out of his kitchen towards the office and – more importantly – the first aid kit. 

Sirius shoved everything that looked like it might be of some importance to Jeffrey to the far edge of the desk and directed you to sit; fighting the urge to smile when he heard a few of Jeffrey’s things go tumbling to the floor. 

“I’m rather miffed with you, you know?” Sirius murmured as he stood between your legs and began to unwrap the towel-turned-tourniquet from your arm.

“With me?” You asked with a chuckle, though it was perhaps more strained than usual. 

“I have made quite the name for myself thanks to my fine slicing and chopping skills, and not only do you not give me the honour of showing those off to you, but you also go and hurt yourself whilst you’re at it.” He continued in his scolding as he poured some surgical spirit onto a square of gauze. 

“S’gonna sting, doll.” He murmured quietly, waiting for your nod of approval before wiping at the wound.

Sirius could feel every muscle in your body tense as you let out a pained breath, and Sirius doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the sympathetic whispers and apologies that fell out of his mouth as he finished up when he had you – his formidable mixologist – sat so vulnerable and injured below him.

“I know, I’m sorry; you’re all done.” He assured you as he binned the now bloody gauze and moved to grab the antiseptic cream.

“So? What’s the verdict doc?” You tried to joke. “Think I can go back to serving drinks?”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he delicately placed a new square of gauze onto the palm of your hand that was quickly saturated with red-tinged ointment. “You are absolutely not cleared for work.”

You chuckled self-deprecatingly as your shoulders slumped. “Keep it elevated and rest, then?” 

Sirius hummed noncommittally. “We’ll have to see what an actual doctor thinks.”

You whimpered at that, and Sirius paused in his wrapping of your hand to consider you.

Your brows were furrowed as you chewed aggressively on your lower lip and stared at Sirius’ work, mind seemingly miles away. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked as he taped off the gauze, though he never relinquished his hold of your hand. 

“I think you did a good enough job, yeah? If I leave it be, it’ll be better in no time?” You asked him.

Sirius could tell that his responding grimace was answer enough to your question when your eyes quickly filled with tears. “Fuck.” You whispered as you hastily used your good hand to wipe at your eyes. 

“I’m sorry doll.” Sirius murmured as he considered momentarily rushing to medical school so that he could fix this for you.

He wanted to fix this for you.

Alas, he was but a chef. 

And soon, he was going to be a convicted felon charged with aggravated assault.

“Sirius, why is Caleb– what happened to my stuff?” Jeffery sputtered as he nearly hit Sirius in the back with the door. 

“There’s been an incident, Jeffrey, your stuff is a little inconsequential at the moment.” Sirius sneered.

Jeffrey pursed his lips as he considered Sirius before his eyes moved to you. “What happened?”

“Cut myself whilst slicing lemons.”

“Have you filled out an incident report?” Jeffrey asked then.

“Christ, Jeffrey; the woman’s hand is still bleeding. Unless the form requires her signature in blood, maybe you can relax about your paperwork for a minute?”

“Are you going to need to leave?” Jeffrey asked you as he pretended Sirius wasn’t even there.

“I-”

“She needs stitches.” Sirius interjected plainly.

“Fuck.” Jeffrey muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “So, Caleb’s going to need to man the bar for the rest of the evening?” 

“Yes, and Charlie will have to man the kitchen.” Sirius responded as he all but shouldered past Jeffrey in order to grab his jacket. 

“What?” You and Jeffrey chorused; Jeffrey in panic and you in bemusement. 

“Charlie...” Sirius drawled slowly as he stared down Jeffrey and offering you his arm as he encouraged you from the edge of the desk. “You know? Weasley? Ginger hair? Has been working for me since he left school?”

“I know who Charlie is, Sirius.” Jeffrey spat.

“Oh, good. I was getting worried about you, mate.” Sirius said as he pat Jeffrey aggressively on the shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” Jeffrey continued as he followed the two of you out of the office; Sirius’ hand at the small of your back as he ushered you through the halls. 

“Taking her to the hospital.”

“Sirius, the-”

“Chef.” Sirius corrected harshly from the doorway of the kitchen; the room falling quiet as everyone turned to watch Sirius and Jeffrey stare each other down.

“Chef,” Jeffrey corrected, “the kitchen needs you here.”

“My kitchen and its staff are more than capable of surviving without me for a few hours. I have highly skilled and well-trained individuals here, do not insult them by insinuating they ought to be babysat.” 

One could have heard a pin drop in the kitchen at the end of Sirius’ sentence.

When it became clear Jeffrey had no response, Sirius turned to the kitchen staff.

“Weasley.”

“Yes, chef?”

“Take over for me for the rest of the evening, yeah? Caleb will remain on bar so shuffle everyone around as you see fit; text me if you need anything. But don’t need anything.”

“Yes, chef.” Charlie answered quickly; a muted yet proud smile gracing his face as he nodded at his boss. 

“Have a goodnight, guys.”

“Night, chef!” The rest of the staff called as Sirius guided you towards the back door to the parking lot. 

The streetlights flickered as the two of you stepped out into the evening; Sirius relishing in the cool evening air against his kitchen-warmed skin. 

“You don’t have to come with me, you know?” You said quietly. 

Sirius turned to see you standing near the door of the restaurant; arms wrapped around yourself as you chewed your lip nervously. 

“Would you cut that out?” Sirius sniped at you with no heat. 

“What out?”

“Chewing on your lip; if you’re hungry I’ll make you food, if you want to bite lips, bite mine; but leave yours alone.” He scolded as he marched over and gently pried your lip from between your teeth. 

“Wha- your lips? Are you offering me your lips, chef?” You asked slowly; eyes flitting from between both his before travelling down to his lips and back up again.

“I hardly think that’s surprising; I’m a very selfless person.” Sirius explained, emboldened by your reciprocal flirting to leave his hand cradling your jaw. 

You hummed. “So that’s why you shoved all of Jeffrey’s stuff off the desk; you just didn’t want me bleeding all over it.”

“Quite right. God forbid we ruin Jeffrey’s things.”

You barked a surprised laugh at Sirius’ inability to utter Jeffrey’s name without sneering it like a curse word, causing him to laugh as well as he took a step backwards towards his car. 

“Sorry doll; I can’t fix this for you,” he said as he gestured towards your injury with one hand as he opened the passenger door with the other, “but I can find you someone who can.” 

You pretended to be tetchy with Sirius the entire way to the hospital, but he could see your ill-hidden smile through the reflection of the passenger window at his quips and shameless begging for your forgiveness. 

You apparently had a thing about needles, and generally needing to be sewn up like some “moth eaten patchwork quilt”, which Sirius guessed wasn’t completely unreasonable. But by the third hour of waiting in uncomfortable plastic chairs in A&E, you were actually starting to get antsy.

“It’s like they don’t even want to use me as a pin cushion.” You muttered as you watched a coughing child get escorted down the hall.

“Do you think we ought to be worried?” Sirius murmured as he craned his neck to watch the child disappear down the corridor. “Not one person they brought back there has returned.”

You snorted rather inelegantly and sank further back into your chair. “I hope it’s nice, wherever they’re ending up...nicer than this.” You said as the light above you started to flicker ominously. “I bet they even have food.”

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked quickly. 

“Sort of; figure they’ve got a canteen here?”

This time, it was Sirius who snorted inelegantly. “We are not eating canteen food.”

“Sirius, you should go.” You tried again, ignoring Sirius’ warning glare seeing as the two of you had discussed (read: argued about) this four times already since arriving. “You’ve been working all evening, and you’re probably starved too.”

“I am starved too, and that’s something I can fix.” 

“How exactly can you fix that if you’re not willing to order canteen food?” You deadpanned.

“Doll, we work at a restaurant.” Sirius explained earnestly. 

You rolled your eyes as you let your head fall back against the wall with a thud. “Jeffrey might actually have an aneurism if you call in an order right now.”

Sirius was quiet for a few moments, and by the time you peeled your eyes open, he was standing on the opposite side of the hall with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Sirius!”

“Shush, Y/N; we’re in a hospital.” He scolded. “Jeffrey! Hi! It’s Sirius! Can you put Weasley on the line. Good chap, thanks.”

You watched as Sirius began pacing, counting a tile between each step as Charlie picked up the phone. 

“Hey, I need you to make some food for pick-up; actually...make it delivery, please?” He corrected with a devilish smirk, watching as you brought your hand to your lips in a silent gasp. 

And though this isn’t exactly how Sirius saw his first real meal with you (save the hastily shared plates during shifts), he couldn’t deny that this potluck style picnic in A&E felt like the beginning of something really special.

And If Jeffrey’s blood pressure skyrocketed from having to cover the bar so that Caleb could deliver it for him, well, that was just a bonus. 

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [3].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. mild terrorization, sunghoon has a mental breakdown, beomgyu thinks shoulders are inappropriate, swearing. WORD COUNT. 3.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana

NOTE. i like to call this the sunghoon chapter. the rest of the boys will get their own chapters too in the future, pls tell me who your favorite boy is so far 😔.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — it takes a lemon related accident to get a man to talk.

TODAY IS THE DAY YOU FINALLY FIND OUT WHAT PARK SUNGHOON’S FUCKING DEAL IS. You can only go on for so long of nothing but ominous eye contact and two-worded conversations before you start considering manslaughter (three weeks). You’re going to make him tell you what his goddamned problem is within today even if he ends up punching you in the face (because he always looks like he’s on the brink of doing that, anyway).

The first step to this operation is observation. You have been discreetly watching him this past week, taking note of his daily routine and there are two notable things that you have discovered— one, he leaves his room every single day at three in the afternoon, and two, he returns home at nine in the evening. That’s enough information for you to work with. You have this thing in the bag.

Your next step is preparing for battle. By one in the afternoon, you’ve already showered, blow dried your hair, and dressed in the prettiest outfit you quickly pulled from your closet (a nice chiffon maxi skirt paired with a lacy camisole because nothing lowers a man’s guard better than bare shoulders). You even put on makeup today. If this plan ends up being a failure, you’re going to kill Sunghoon and then yourself.

“You look pretty today,” Jay informs you when you invade his room for the sole purpose of having an outfit check in front of his full-length mirror. “I mean, you’re always pretty. It’s just you’re even prettier today. Like when even though you always make rose tteokbokki for your friends everyday, for some reason the color is just a lot more vibrant this day and it looks extra delicious?”

“Thanks.” You give him a pat on the back and exit the room.

Right when you start climbing up the stairs back to the third floor, your two-forty five alarm goes off. Perfect. It’s all going according to plan. You position yourself in the small space between your room and his, leaning against the archway with a feigned air of nonchalance. 

The familiar click of a lock breaks the silence. You prepare to strike.

“Hey.”

It’s almost funny how Sunghoon immediately flinches at the sound of your voice, but you’re not here to laugh. You’re here to strike a conversation because for some reason, that’s completely impossible with the guy you’re currently staring down. He’s already recovered from the initial shock. You push through even though he’s scaring you shitless. “Can we talk for a sec?”

Apparently, you cannot talk for a sec because Sunghoon immediately starts walking, but you’ve foreseen this. You know he’d ignore you so you quickly kick your foot against the other side of the opening, barricading him inside this small corner with an outstretched leg. 

Bam!

“I asked if we could talk.”

You watch as his eyes fly open in shock, taking a step forward only to jump back from your rather aggressive obstruction. Your arms are crossed, waiting for him to finally open his fucking mouth and surrender. He’s got nowhere to run.

Or, so you thought. Because he does have a way to run, and that is under your leg when he slides underneath as if it’s a fucking limbo stick. It gets a little breezy under your skirt when he skids right by. What the fuck. Is the idea of having to talk to you really that abhorrent to him? Are you seriously considering chasing after him right now?”

“Hey, wait!”

Yes, you are.

Sunghoon is fast. He’s running and running down the hall, down the stairs to the second floor, and you’re right at his fucking heels. You’ve prepared endlessly for this day and you have no intentions on letting him slip away like a slimy lizard. However, you might have made some flagrant miscalculations with your physical abilities, because the moment you reach the bottom floor, Sunghoon is widening the gap, and you’re just about to hack out your lungs and die.

How much stamina does this bastard have? Heeseung emerges from Jake’s room the moment Sunghoon speeds by, and you just barely manage to hold onto the door for support before you give up and start panting. “What’s going on? Are you two playing tag?”

You collapse to the ground. This is too much cardio. “No, I’m trying to kill him,” you say in between bated breaths. “But nevermind, I can’t do this anymore. Can you help me up? I can’t feel my fucking legs.”

When you look up at Heeseung, you notice that he’s brought a brick form of Iron Man from your friend’s room, cradling the red and yellow figure to his chest as hesitant eyes stare down at you with flushed cheeks. “I—I can. I can help,” he chokes out.

“Then help me?”

He simply stares at the arm you have reached out, waiting in the air for his retrieval. You sigh, holding onto the door instead to pull yourself up. Honestly, you shouldn’t have expected anything. “Heeseung, are you mysophobic?”

“What? No, what makes you say that?” The fact that looks relieved that you gave up on him plucks on your irritation. “I love my gay friends.”

You blink. “Nevermind. Can you at least tell me where Sunghoon is going? He usually leaves the house at this time, so I’m curious. Do you have an idea?”

“Oh, he has work,” he answers. “Hoon has the afternoon shifts at The Lounge. I think he works all days on weekdays.”

The Lounge is a cafe near your university (not that you’ve been there. Overpriced ice coffee isn’t exactly within your weekly budget). It’s a little far from this neighborhood and as far as you can recall Sunghoon goes to a different uni for sports medicine, so you’re not sure why he’s working there out of all places. “Alright. Thanks.” You’re careful not to brush against Heeseung when you pass by. One day, you’ll be dealing with him and his suspected germ problem with you, but at the moment your plate is still full with a different problematic male.

You fish for your wallet and phone in your room before crawling back downstairs. However, just when you’re about to grab your sandals from the foyer, you’re stopped by Beomgyu blocking your path. He’s leaning against the wall, waving the PD&J in front of your face (Jay was onto something when he gave it that nickname). “Pay up,” he demands. All these men are stressing you out.

“Why?”

For the sake of maintaining an amicable relationship with your housemates, you surrendered your jar monopoly and agreed that you’d all be using the money for additional grocery budget. However, you do not understand why the fuck you have to pay up now.

“Indecent attire,” is Beomgyu’s justification.

“Beomgyu, my tits aren’t even out.”

He parrots your statement in an annoying voice and you desperately want to punch him. If he wants to pick a fight, he should at the very least hide his blushing and look you in the eye. Your battle armor is working a little too well. “Move. I have another bastard to chase down.” But you don’t have time for him. Goddamnit, you have more men to confront after you’re done with Sunghoon. You shove past Beomgyu and leave the house, on your way to The Lounge with an unshakeable determination to fuck Park Sunghoon up.

It takes you a good twenty minutes to arrive at The Lounge, but you don’t walk in the cafe immediately. Through the large front windows, you spot Sunghoon serving a tray of drinks to some customers behind the counter. Oh, so he can be a normal person if he wants to. He’s even smiling and shit (he has a pretty smile. Why doesn’t he smile at you like that). With a huff, you push open the entrance and bulldoze through the door, stomping up to the counter while planning out your order in your head.

“Welcome! How may I hel—” Sunghoon’s customer service smile glitches when he realizes it’s you. “—he-help you?”

“Hi! Can I have an iced americano without the ice?”

“I’m—I’m sorry?”

You give him the sweetest, honey-dipped stretch of the lips that you can muster. “Iced americano. No ice. Oh, and can you get rid of the espresso shot, too?” 

Sunghoon tries to clarify your order. You talk in circles until you finally settle with a glass of lemonade. This is the first time you’ve heard him talk this much which is honestly such a shame because he really does have a nice voice. Unfortunately, he goes mute around you unless his literal job actually requires him to communicate.

He scribbles your name onto the plastic cup and he asks if you don’t mind waiting. You settle on the table nearest to the counter because you want to keep stressing him out. He is. He has been very stressed from the moment you entered the store and it’s evident from how you hear a resounding swear from his workstation when he accidentally puts in too much lemon reserve in your cup and has to remake your drink.

You thought he’d finally gotten over his bad habit of staring, but you catch him flashing looks at you from time to time and at the moment— it’s rather prolonged. He’s looking at you so intently as he puts on the cup sleeve and calls out your name. You fear that you might have made a mistake because if there’s anything you know well about Sunghoon, it’s the fact that he has a very intense and very intimidating stare.

Like right now, as he continues staring when you get up from your seat to retrieve your drink. Seriously, what’s his fucking problem? You intend on staying here until the end of his shift and maybe corner him in the alley next to the cafe. You might be mildly afraid of him, but you’re not a pussy. You’re gonna settle this once and for all.

“Here’s your order.”

Sunghoon hands over your lemonade but for some reason, he doesn’t let go. You furrow your brows, pulling the cup towards you but it’s like his fingers are glued to the sleeve. He looks like he wants to say something, playing tug of war on your drink as he stalls, but you’re really getting annoyed now. A sharp tug on your end has the drink slipping out from both of your hands— painting a nice, yellow tinted splash all over the top that Beomgyu deemed indecent.

Now, it actually is indecent.

You’re speechless. Sunghoon’s face is flushed scarlet. Thank fucking god you ordered a cold drink.

Things weren’t supposed to go this way.

It’s not yet time for his break, but Sunghoon is already pacing back and forth in front of the breakroom, biting on his thumbnail as a mixture of anxiety and shame floods through his veins after royally screwing up. Fuck, he fucked up. He’s absolutely, absolutely, violently fucked himself in the ass and he has no idea how to salvage this.

He just wanted to apologize for sliding under your skirt earlier at the house, but the words wouldn’t jump out of his fucking mouth so he tried stalling and ended up giving you an unscheduled, lemon-flavored bath. His voice just stops working. It goes into total shutdown when he’s looking at you. It’s pathetic.

Normally, he can talk to people just fine. He gets into arguments with his sister over the phone on a daily basis. Hell, it’s even routinary for him to tell Jay to eat shit.

But something about pretty girls with equally pretty smiles makes it harder to string together sentences, okay?

And It’s not just a him problem. All of your house residents can’t talk to you normally, either, but he doesn’t want to stutter like a dumbass in front of you like Soobin and Heeseung hyung. Jake doesn’t count because he doesn’t even perceive you as a woman.

However because of that fear, he ends up not saying anything altogether. It’s hopeless. He’s as good as out of the running for the fucking bet they called (not that he thought he had a chance to win, anyway).

The breakroom door clicks open. He jitters on the spot.

“Sunghoon?”

Your head pops out from the crack in the door, your now clothed shoulder also peeking through. When you walk out, you’re now wearing the spare top he’s supposed to change into after his gym session later. Now that shirt is on you, and it isn’t helping his you-triggered state of emergency at all. “Thanks for the change of clothes.”

“I—I remade your drink.” For the second time. “Sorry about that.” Okay. You’re doing great, Sunghoon. You’re so cool, so awesome, and if you keep this up, you’ll be home free. You can do it.

You chase the straw with your lips. Why is he staring at your lips? “Sorry for spilling my drink all over me, or sorry about running away from me earlier like I had an infectious disease?”

He gulps. You’re really not making it easy for him to talk to you.

“Look, I think Heeseung acting as if I had cooties is enough of a constant attack to my pride. I might actually snap if you start avoiding me like the plague, too. Seriously.” Sunghoon remembers that he also twisted your arm at one point. He should add that to his list of apologies.

“Th—that wasn’t my intention. I was just afraid of running late.”

“Sure,” you scoff. “That doesn’t explain why the fuck you keep staring at me like you want me dead, though.” Looks like he has a lot more to apologize for. “Sunghoon, be honest. Do you have a problem with me? Like, have I done anything to offend you or something?”

“No, of course not!” he exclaims. “It’s just that—”

And like usual, his voice breaks down. Out of order, like a rundown machine. This is the fucking problem, it’s always the fucking problem, but he can’t just tell you that you make him feel nervous, can he? He can’t tell you that his vocal chords rupture when you’re around, making it impossible for him to talk, so he resorts to staring and staring and staring and hoping that if he stares long enough, you’ll somehow read his mind and get the idea of what he wants to say. 

That clearly hasn’t been working. In fact, it’s making things worse so he has to come clean and oh god, you’re gonna think he’s so lame and he’ll never live past this moment until the day he dies a miserable, lonely death. 

It’s the 21st century— why isn’t mindreading an freaking option yet? You look so genuinely upset that he can feel his heart clench up like an asshole. He should just rip his eyes out to repent.

“I’ll...try to stop staring, I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not the problem, Sunghoon.” Your tone is filled with exasperation and he’s just driven further into guilt. “I have a feeling that you simply just have an unfortunate case of the resting bitch face, but you know what would help? If you actually say ‘hi’ instead of just ominously staring at me. That way I’d know you’re not preparing to throttle me.”

Is his blank expression really that bad? His brows furrow. He’s never gotten any bad feedback about his face before.

But here he goes again. Thinking his thoughts instead of speaking out loud. You let out a sigh and he feels infinitely worse, but he can’t keep stalling because he has to get back to work, and his co-worker is already giving him impatient looks, and he feels like talking is only making things worse. “Can you wait for a while? My shift isn’t over yet, but my break is in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry for disturbing you.”

While he’s making drinks and serving customers, Sunghoon makes sure to plot out his entire explanation speech so that you won’t think he’s entirely pathetic. But thirty minutes go by so quickly and the moment his break arrives and he’s pulling out the chair in front of you, all the paragraphs he’s carefully constructed disappear into nothing. Gone. Head absolutely empty save for the thought that this almost feels like a date. But this is not a date. This is a fucking interrogation.

“Say your piece.”

You don’t even give him a chance to prepare. You’re ruthless.

“Well—” So, he starts. He skips over the part that you make him nervous but that aside, he makes the confession that although he does find it difficult to talk to you due to a certain, specific, undisclosable reason (because you’re a girl and you’re pretty), he definitely isn’t plotting your murder, and Sunghoon’s cadence becomes slower, a lot more jagged when he notices the expression on your face. You’re smiling, but it’s not the pretty smiles you usually give him. This one feels a lot more ominous. Is this how you feel when he accidentally stares at you for too long? Should he be scared?

“—And that’s it, but why...why are you looking at me like that…?”

“It’s nothing.” It’s definitely not nothing. Sunghoon’s eyes follow your movement as you rise from your seat. “What kind of drinks do the rest of the guys like?”

“Jay likes americanos and Soobin hyung— wait.” He’s also up now. He doesn’t know he’s standing up, but he is. “You’re leaving already?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

At this point, you’re just doing this on purpose. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? “Are we good…now?” hesitantly, he tries to make sure. Something is off and he knows it.

“Yeah. We’re good,” you hum, finishing up your lemonade and leaving it on the table. “See you at home. Oh wait, the drinks.” Sunghoon feels uneasy with this conclusion, but he wordlessly follows you to the counter anyway and takes your takeout orders. You’re just gonna go? Why aren’t you making fun of him for being a loser? Why are you just taking the drinks from him without mentioning anything? 

“Thanks. I’ll come by more often,” you tell him, and it just furthers his confusion. “I can also bring some of my friends so you can keep practicing how to talk to pretty girls. Oh, this latte is yours.”

Ah.

Of course.

There it is.

“Hoon?” You wave a hand in front of his eyes. “Sorry, am I making you nervous again?”

Sunghoon wants to die. 

“Can you just— can’t you just forget everything I told you?”

You shake your head and flash him a smile. The smile that always makes him stupid and nervous. Dammit, why do you have to be so pretty? Why must your smile be so pretty and erode his brain into mush? It doesn’t help when you reach out a hand to give him two soft pats on the cheek. It doesn’t help when the warmth of your touch lingers and burrows deep into his skin. “No way. Not when you’ve finally made so much progress! Let’s keep working on it, okay?” 

Sunghoon is finally able to breathe the moment you exit The Lounge, and he nearly collapses into the ground.

The misunderstanding between the both of you has been cleared up— at the cost of his pride and dignity (not that he has much of that in the first place). How the fuck is he supposed to face you after all of this, much less talk to you.

Words. What even are they?

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set.

[rustedhearts]

listening to 'asleep' by the smiths

tw: child loss

"do you think it'll be sunny all the time?"

"hmm...the occasional rainy day might be nice."

"mm. i like rain."

on the muted floral colors of your pillowcase, steve turns his head. hair whooshing with the gentle shift, splaying out in hazelnut colors. the green of his sweatshirt has faded in the wash, blown soft by the wind on the drying line outside the window. overhead, it blares the orange and yellow light of mid-afternoon.

he's looking at you, eyes flicking over your profile. "yeah...me too"

there's an old water stain on the ceiling that steve once said is shaped like an elephant. you think it just looks more like a blob. but you have been staring at it above your bed for far too many years.

"it's nice," you whisper, trying not to give into his peering.

steve continues anyway, letting his cheek touch the flattened pillow. your bedsheets are rumpled between your bodies, cushioning yesterday's clothes. you never changed when you came home. couldn't get past the bed.

"yeah...it is," he agrees just as quietly.

his finger enters the plain of your palm, grazing the skin so delicately that it tickles. you twitch at the touch, a smile ghosting over your mouth. he wants to capture it—this moment—in a photograph and paste it on the old wallpapered wall. in this tiny trailer, where you'd spent your youth, where you shared a home. where you dreamed of worlds outside of the one the pair of you were continually stuck in.

"how would we go?"

"a plane. a plane with the fanciest seats and all the roasted peanuts you want. and they hand out free headsets and airplane pillows."

you let your eyes flutter closed, humming again. "layover?"

steve swallows, and against the stiff quiet of the room, it echoes. a dog barks somewhere, a few rows away. children scuttle and chatter. it's saturday, and there are much better things to do.

you never knew fridays could be capable of what yesterday was.

"one," steve replies, still running circles over your palm. "texas."

your lips wiggle into another half-grin. closing your eyes makes you tired, and the room feels warm. regaining circulation, losing blood—it fatigues.

"that's out of the way."

steve shrugs, though you can't see it. he can't stop looking at you. he's worried if he stops, you'll disappear. he's always worried you'll disappear.

"just a little fun. it lasts a day, and we'll go to the rodeo. get an iced tea for the flight home."

"an iced tea," you marvel breathily.

steve swallows again. it clicks and sizzles down his throat. he swallows a lot when he feels tears coming on. your nostrils flare with the onset of your own.

"yeah," he agrees, mumbling now. "with all the sugar you want."

"l-lemons?"

"lemons, too."

snapping your eyes open, you flick your head over and bump into his nose. he shuffles closer, nuzzling the tips of them together. the breath he releases seems needed. your hands claps together between your sandwiched bodies.

almost twenty-four hours since you left the clinic. hours of collecting bedsores between waddled and winced trips to the bathroom. not once in those long, taffy-pulled hours did you cry.

but here they are, those inevitable tears.

"you th-think she'll have l-lemons, too?" you whimper, lip wobbling.

steve presses his forehead against your own. when his eyes close, they squeeze free hot tears.

"y-yeah, honey. she lives in a world full of lemons."

you sniffle and sink further into his soft and colorful clothes. "good. she liked lemons."

his thumb catches a tear beading down your cheek blindly. "yeah, she did."

for three weeks after the first test, all you did was drink iced tea with lemons.

it might be silly to think that in heaven, god gives away something so small, but one could only hope.

[hookhausenschips]

Between The Lines {LN4}

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Summary: Y/N, a 23-year-old woman from the Bahamas, reunites with her brother and his racing friends, including Lando Norris, who has always harbored feelings for her despite their complicated past. As they navigate the tension, secrecy, and the allure of forbidden love, Y/N and Lando must decide whether to confront their emotions or continue living between the lines of what could be.

WC: 8k (she’s a long one)

Requested? Yes/No

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Warnings: angst, toxic relationship, jealousy, sexual tension, strong language, allusions of smut

you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Y/N’s POV

The sun was setting as I stepped out of the airport and into the warm embrace of the Portuguese breeze. It carried with it the scent of the ocean, the kind that instantly reminded me of home—the Bahamas. As much as I loved my life in California, there was something about being by the water that grounded me, like I was reconnecting with a part of myself I’d left behind. My curls danced in the wind as I walked towards the taxi stand, my suitcase rolling along behind me.

The drive to our family’s vacation home was a familiar one. Even though it had been years since I’d last been here, I knew every twist and turn of the road by heart. The white-washed walls of the house came into view, nestled against the cliffs that overlooked the Atlantic. It was a place full of memories, of laughter and late-night conversations, of sun-soaked days and quiet moments under the stars. But as much as I loved this place, there was a heaviness in my chest that I couldn’t quite shake.

I had come here to prepare the house for my friends, to create a space where we could all unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment I stepped inside, I knew this trip wasn’t going to be just about catching up with old friends. This was about revisiting the past—whether I was ready for it or not.

I ran my fingers over the cool marble countertop in the kitchen, taking in the familiar sights and smells of the house. Everything looked just as it did when I was last here, though a bit more worn with time. The white curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of fresh lemons from the trees outside wafted through the open windows.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” I murmured to myself, smiling at the nostalgia that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

But as much as I wanted to lose myself in the peacefulness of the house, I couldn’t help but think about what was coming. My brother, Keylon, had mentioned he’d be stopping by with some of his friends before heading back to the UK. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I had left to pursue my career and school. And with him, Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell would be here too. I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped a beat at the thought of Lando. 

Lando and I had always shared a unique connection, one that lingered in the background of our interactions. When I visited Keylon in the UK, Lando was always there, and I couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me—like I was something more than just his best friend’s little sister. His crush on me was obvious, but we never acted on it. Timing, distance, and life had always gotten in the way. And then years passed without a word.

Now, we were about to be in the same place again. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and nerves. I wondered if he had changed, if he still felt the same way. Or if we’d simply drifted too far apart.

As I unpacked my suitcase and started setting up the house for my friends, I let my thoughts drift back to those times in the UK. The nights when Lando and I would sit on the porch, talking about everything and nothing, with his quiet admiration always lingering just beneath the surface. I wondered what it would be like to see him again after all these years.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart rate quickened as I walked to the front door, anticipation bubbling up inside me. I opened the door just as Keylon stepped out of the car, his familiar grin lighting up his face.

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice filled with excitement as he rushed over to give me a bear hug. "It's been too long, sis!"

I laughed as I hugged him back, the years melting away in that moment. "It really has, Key. You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you," he replied, pulling back to look at me. "Still the same little sister I remember, just as stubborn and beautiful as ever."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere. But thanks, I guess."

Before I could say more, my eyes drifted over Keylon’s shoulder, landing on the figure emerging from the other side of the car. And there he was—Lando Norris. My breath caught in my throat for a second. He looked different, more mature, more confident. But his eyes, those bright blue eyes that had always seemed to see right through me, were the same.

"Y/N," Lando greeted me, his voice deeper than I remembered, but still carrying that same warmth.

"Lando," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual even though my heart was pounding in my chest. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it has been," he said, and for a moment, something passed between us—an unspoken acknowledgment of the years that had separated us and the connection that still lingered.

Max appeared next, a broad grin on his face as he gave me a quick hug. "Y/N, it’s good to see you! This place is amazing as always."

I smiled at Max, grateful for his easygoing nature that helped break the tension. "It’s good to see you too, Max. Glad you like it."

As we all stood there, the air around us was thick with nostalgia and something more—something electric that neither Lando nor I seemed ready to confront just yet.

"Come on, let’s get inside," Keylon said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "I’m starving, and I’m sure you’ve got some of that famous Bahamian food waiting for us."

I chuckled, grateful for the distraction. "Of course, Key. I wouldn’t let you starve on my watch."

But as we headed inside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip was going to be more complicated than I’d anticipated. The past had a way of creeping back in when you least expected it, and with Lando here, I had a feeling it was going to hit me full force.

I spent the next hour trying to focus on the tasks at hand—unpacking, arranging towels, making sure the kitchen was stocked. But my mind kept drifting back to the earlier reunion with Keylon and Lando. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, and I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted. 

As I fluffed the last pillow on the couch, I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of familiar laughter. Keylon’s deep voice echoed through the hallway as he called out, “Y/N! We’re here!”

I took a deep breath and turned, just in time to see him bounding into the living room with Lando and Max in tow. They brought with them the energy of old times, and suddenly, it felt like we were back in those carefree days when we were all just a bunch of kids with no real worries. But now, there was an undercurrent of tension, one that I wasn’t sure how to navigate.

“Hey, sis!” Keylon grinned, his arms full of grocery bags. “Figured we’d help stock up on some essentials.”

I smiled, grateful for the gesture. “Thanks, Key. You know me too well.”

Lando stepped forward, offering a small smile that made my heart do that stupid flip again. “We picked up some snacks too. Figured we’d be needing them.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. “Snacks, huh? You’re still obsessed with those terrible gummy worms, aren’t you?”

His smile widened, a flash of the boy I remembered. “What can I say? Some things never change.”

Max chimed in, holding up a bottle of wine. “And I got this. Because, you know, we’re adults now, and adults drink wine.”

I laughed, grateful for Max’s easy humor. “Classy, Max. I’ll make sure to break out the good glasses for that.”

As they settled in, I found myself watching Lando out of the corner of my eye. He seemed more at ease now, joking with Keylon and Max as they unpacked the groceries. But every so often, I’d catch him glancing in my direction, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he looked away.

“So,” Keylon said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us. “We’ve got the whole crew coming in tomorrow. You ready for the madness, Y/N?”

I chuckled, though the idea of a full house made me a little nervous. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Who all is coming, again?”

As the conversation flowed, Keylon rattled off the list of names of people who would be arriving tomorrow. “Keegan, Ed, Tom, and Martin Garrix,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Plus, Max’s girlfriend, Pietra, and Lando’s PR girlfriend, Magui.”

Lando, who had been quietly listening, suddenly nudged Keylon with his elbow, a sharp yet playful jab. "Keylon, seriously?" he muttered, giving him a pointed look.

Keylon blinked, looking confused for a moment before realization dawned. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?” he responded with a mischievous grin. “I mean, that’s pretty much what she is, right?”

Lando sighed, shaking his head, though there was a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You could’ve just said girlfriend, you know,” he mumbled under his breath.

I watched the exchange with amusement, unable to resist a chuckle. The playful dynamic between the two of them was something I’d always loved. Despite the years and the fame that had come between them, some things hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” I teased, trying to ease the tension. “I’m sure she’s more than just your PR girlfriend.”

Lando shot me a grateful look, but I noticed the way his shoulders seemed to relax just a bit. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his tone lighter now. “But Keylon’s always been terrible with labels.”

Keylon rolled his eyes dramatically. “You know I’m just messing with you, man. But seriously, she’ll be here tomorrow, so you’d better be ready to play the perfect boyfriend.”

Lando let out a low groan, but there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be ready.” But as he glanced at me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his reluctance than just the teasing.

The mention of Magui’s name sent a tiny jolt through me, but I kept my expression neutral. “Right. Sounds like a full house.”

Max shot me a teasing grin. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll keep the chaos to a minimum.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied with a smirk. “I know better than to trust you guys when it comes to that.”

As we settled into the evening, the house began to fill with the sounds of laughter and the familiar banter between old friends. Keylon and Max were quick to launch into stories about their racing adventures, their voices overlapping as they competed to see who could tell the wildest tale.

I found myself drifting toward the kitchen, needing a moment to breathe. The sight of Lando laughing with my brother warmed my heart, but it also stirred something deeper, something I wasn’t quite ready to face. I busied myself with preparing a quick snack, chopping vegetables and arranging them on a plate, trying to focus on the mundane task.

But I wasn’t alone for long. The sound of footsteps behind me made me pause, and I turned to find Lando leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me.

“Need some help?” he offered, his voice softer now that we were alone.

I smiled, though my heart was racing. “Sure. You can chop the tomatoes.”

He moved to the counter beside me, and for a few moments, we worked in companionable silence. The tension between us hadn’t disappeared, but it felt less heavy now, more like a comfortable weight that we were both learning to carry.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone casual. “How’s life been treating you?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light. “Busy. Work is… intense, but I love it.”

“Firefighter and EMS, right?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced at me. “That’s… that’s incredible, Y/N. Seriously.”

His genuine admiration made me smile. “Thanks, Lando. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t imagine doing something like that. But I’m glad you found something you’re passionate about.”

“What about you?” I asked, turning the conversation back to him. “How’s everything with the racing world?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s… good. Busy, as always. But sometimes I miss the simpler times, you know?”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable. “Yeah, I get that. Life has a way of getting complicated, doesn’t it?”

He met my gaze, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. “It does. But sometimes, it’s nice to remember the good things, too.”

The unspoken words hung between us, and I felt my breath catch. There was so much we weren’t saying, so much that needed to be said. But before I could find the courage to speak, Keylon’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Y/N, Lando! Get in here! We’re about to start the movie!”

I blinked, the moment broken, and forced a smile. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Lando gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on mine for just a second longer before he turned away. We headed back into the living room, where the others were already sprawled across the couches, the TV flickering as Keylon scrolled through the movie options.

As I settled into my seat, I couldn’t help but glance at Lando, who sat across the room. Our eyes met briefly, and for the first time in years, I wondered what it would be like to let go of the past and embrace whatever was happening between us. But that was a thought for another time. For now, I would enjoy the reunion, the laughter, and the memories, even as the tension simmered beneath the surface.

The following days were a blur of laughter, music, and memories. The house, once quiet, now buzzed with the energy of everyone arriving. Keegan, Ed, and Tom showed up first, quickly turning the living room into a chaotic mess of luggage and snacks. Martin Garrix arrived soon after, bringing with him a playlist of tunes that kept the party vibe alive. Pietra, Max’s girlfriend, fit right in, her infectious smile and friendly nature making her an instant hit with everyone.

And then there was Magui.

She arrived late in the evening, her presence immediately commanding attention. Tall, stunning, and perfectly put together, she walked into the house like she owned it, greeting everyone with a dazzling smile. But when her gaze landed on me, I felt a subtle shift in the air. The warmth she had shown the others cooled slightly, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she said, “You must be Y/N. Lando’s told me so much about you.”

I forced a smile, sensing the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you, Magui. Welcome to our home.”

She nodded, her expression polite but distant, before turning her attention back to Lando, who had come to greet her. I watched as he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. But even then, his eyes seemed to flicker toward me, just for a second, as if checking my reaction.

It didn’t take long for Magui to make her presence felt. Throughout the evening, she stayed close to Lando, always positioning herself beside him, touching his arm, his shoulder, making it clear to everyone that he was hers. And Lando, for his part, played the role of the attentive boyfriend, though I couldn’t help but notice the tension in his posture, the way his smiles seemed just a bit forced.

The days were a whirlwind of activities—exploring the nearby town, lounging on the beach, late-night barbecues, and impromptu dance sessions in the living room. There was no shortage of fun, but underneath it all, I could feel the undercurrents of unspoken emotions.

Lando, in particular, seemed to struggle. Whenever Martin Garrix or Keegan would sidle up next to me, their flirtatious banter turning up a notch, I noticed the way Lando’s jaw would clench. His eyes would follow us, and though he never said anything, his quiet, simmering jealousy was palpable. 

One evening, after a long day at the beach, we all gathered around the outdoor fire pit, roasting marshmallows and sipping on cocktails. Keegan, ever the charmer, slid onto the bench beside me, his arm casually draping over the backrest.

“So, Y/N,” Keegan began, his voice playful as he leaned in a little closer. “Tell me, how is it that a beautiful woman like you is still single? Or are you just hiding your boyfriend somewhere?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No boyfriend, Keegan. Just focused on work, I guess.”

“Ah, work. Always getting in the way of fun,” he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. “Maybe we can change that while you’re here.”

Before I could respond, I noticed Lando stiffen across the fire pit, his gaze fixed on Keegan’s arm resting behind me. Magui, sitting beside him, seemed oblivious to the tension, chatting away with Pietra about some event they’d attended recently.

Martin, who was seated on my other side, chimed in with a chuckle. “Careful, Keegan. Y/N’s got a lot of admirers. You might have some competition.”

Lando’s expression darkened just slightly, and I caught the flicker of frustration in his eyes. He leaned forward, interrupting the conversation. “Y/N’s too smart to fall for your cheesy lines, Keegan.”

Keegan smirked, unfazed. “Maybe, but there’s no harm in trying, right?”

I rolled my eyes playfully, trying to defuse the situation. “Okay, boys, calm down. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

But despite my efforts, the tension lingered, and I couldn’t ignore the way Lando’s gaze kept drifting toward me, a mixture of jealousy and something deeper in his eyes.

As the evening wore on, Magui’s subtle hostility toward me became more apparent. Every time I tried to engage with Lando, she would swoop in, steering the conversation back to herself or pulling him away with some excuse. It was clear that she wasn’t comfortable with my presence, and I couldn’t blame her. After all, the history between Lando and me was something she could sense, even if she didn’t know the full story.

One night, after another long day of exploring and socializing, I found myself alone in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. I was lost in thought when I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw Magui standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Hey,” I greeted her, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Need something?”

She gave me a tight smile. “No, just wanted to talk. You and Lando… you go way back, huh?”

I nodded, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long time. Through my brother.”

Magui’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I figured as much. He talks about you sometimes. Fondly, of course.”

I set down the dish I was holding, meeting her gaze directly. “Look, Magui, I’m not trying to cause any problems. I’m just here to spend time with my brother and our friends.”

She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I’m not worried, Y/N. Lando and I have something real. But I just wanted to make sure we’re clear on that.”

I smiled, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Crystal clear.”

She nodded, her smile returning as if the conversation had never happened. “Great. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As she left the kitchen, I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. It was clear that whatever was happening between Lando and me wasn’t going unnoticed. And if I wasn’t careful, things could get messy. Very messy.

The tension between Lando and Magui only grew over the next few days. I noticed the little things—how they’d bicker over small details, how Magui would criticize Lando’s behavior around me, and how Lando’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. It was like watching a slow-burning fuse, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded.

It was late, well past midnight, and the house had finally quieted down. After another long day of adventures and late-night antics, everyone had drifted off to bed, leaving the house in peaceful silence. But I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too restless, swirling with everything that had happened over the past few days—the tension with Magui, Lando’s simmering jealousy, the unspoken feelings between us that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

I slipped out of my room and made my way to the pool, hoping the cool night air would help clear my head. The water shimmered under the starlight, and the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore in the distance created a soothing background noise. I sat down at the edge of the pool, dipping my feet into the water, and stared up at the stars, letting my thoughts drift.

It wasn’t long before I heard the soft sound of footsteps behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I could feel his presence even before he spoke.

“Can’t sleep either?” Lando’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he came to stand beside me.

I glanced up at him and shook my head. “No. Just… too much on my mind, I guess.”

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he took a seat beside me, dipping his feet into the pool as well. We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the gentle ripples of the water and the distant waves.

“There’s a lot going on, huh?” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of saying too much.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly, my eyes still fixed on the stars. “More than I expected.”

Lando let out a slow breath, his gaze focused on the water in front of him. “I’m sorry about Magui,” he said after a pause. “She can be… intense. I know she hasn’t exactly been welcoming.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, though the tension between us was impossible to ignore. “I get it. I’m… I’m the past, and she’s your present. It makes sense that she’s protective.”

Lando looked at me then, his eyes searching mine. “Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

I nodded, still staring at the stars, trying to keep my emotions in check. I turned to face him, finally allowing myself to ask the question that had been weighing on me for days. "Lando, this... this thing between us, it's complicated. You’re with Magui, and she’s—"

Lando cut me off with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was about to say something that had been weighing on him for a while. “Y/N, there’s something you should know about Magui and me. Our relationship... it’s not what it seems.”

I turned to look at him, confusion knitting my brows. "What do you mean? You’re together. She’s your girlfriend."

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from mine as if he wasn’t sure how to explain. “Magui and I… it’s not real. I mean, we’re together for the cameras, for the press. It’s a PR relationship—a publicity stunt to boost both of our images.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what? Keylon wasn’t actually joking? So, you’re not actually...?”

He shook his head, looking almost relieved to finally be telling someone the truth. “No. We’re not in love, we’re not really dating. It’s all for show. The media eats it up, and it helps both of our careers. But behind the scenes... there’s nothing there.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So, all this time... you’ve been pretending?”

Lando nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. It was easier that way. No complications, no distractions. Just focusing on racing and keeping up appearances. But seeing you again… it’s made me realize that I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, the weight of his confession sinking in. “Lando, that’s... a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his gaze locked on mine. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but... it’s complicated. Everything’s complicated.”

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of it all. Part of me felt relieved—relieved that Magui wasn’t the deep, meaningful relationship I’d feared. But another part of me felt conflicted, knowing that even if their relationship wasn’t real, it still carried the weight of the public eye, of the world watching every move he made.

“You’re not worried about what happens if people find out?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lando shrugged, a hint of resignation in his expression. “It’s crossed my mind, to be happy when I'm not. Pretending that what I really want isn't standing right in front of me."

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth and vulnerability. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was struggling between what was expected of him and what he truly felt. My heart ached for him, knowing how difficult it must be to live under that kind of pressure, to put on a show for the world while burying his own feelings.

I swallowed hard, the air between us thick with tension. “And Magui?”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. “She’s… she’s great. Really. But…” He trailed off, his eyes searching mine as if looking for answers.

“But what, Lando?” I pressed gently, needing to know where we stood. “What do you want?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions that I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, without warning, he reached out and took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“I don’t know if this is right,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About what could have been… and what might still be.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I looked into his eyes, torn between what I knew was right and what my heart was screaming at me to do. I could feel the pull between us, the undeniable chemistry that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

“Lando…” I began, but he cut me off, his voice urgent.

“Y/N, I’ve tried to move on. I’ve tried to be with someone else, to build something new. But every time I’m with her, I think of you. I think of what we had… what we could have. And I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, and I felt my resolve weakening. This was dangerous, and we both knew it. But in that moment, with the stars shining above us and the world quiet around us, it felt like the only thing that mattered was the two of us.

Without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, it was like a spark ignited, a fire that had been smoldering for years finally bursting into flames. The kiss was desperate, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing that we’d been holding back.

Lando’s hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. My fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, it was like nothing else in the world existed but the two of us. The cool night air, the distant waves, the stars above—they all faded away, leaving only the heat between us.

We broke apart for a breath, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath. “This is crazy,” I whispered, though I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

“Maybe,” Lando murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But it feels right.”

The tension, the desire, the years of unresolved feelings—it all came crashing down on us, and suddenly, the consequences didn’t matter. Not the fact that he had a girlfriend sleeping inside, not the fact that this could ruin everything. All that mattered was that we were here, together, and we couldn’t stop ourselves.

Before I knew it, we were kissing again, more urgently this time, our hands roaming as we lost ourselves in the moment. The world fell away, and all that was left was us—the feel of his lips on mine, the way his touch sent shivers down my spine, the undeniable connection that had always been there.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and overwhelmed, reality came crashing back. We were still by the pool, still in the middle of a situation that could have serious consequences. I could see the regret flickering in Lando’s eyes, but also something else—something that told me he wasn’t ready to let this go.

“Y/N…” he began, but I shook my head, placing a finger to his lips.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Not tonight.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. There were so many things left unsaid, so many questions that still needed answers. But for now, we both knew that this wasn’t the time to face them. There would be consequences to deal with, choices to make, but they would have to wait until morning.

For now, we just sat there by the pool, the night wrapping around us like a blanket, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The passion of the moment had passed, but the connection between us remained, stronger than ever. And as we sat there in the quiet, I couldn’t help but wonder—what would come next?

The next morning, everything felt heavier. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed too bright, almost accusatory, as if it knew what had happened the night before. My stomach churned with unease as I went about my morning routine, replaying everything over and over in my mind. What had I done? What had we done?

The house was lively, filled with the usual banter and laughter, but I felt disconnected, like an outsider observing from a distance. At breakfast, I sat quietly, picking at my food while the others chattered away. Magui was seated next to Lando, her hand casually resting on his arm as she talked to Keegan. The sight made my chest tighten, guilt gnawing at me. I couldn’t look at her without feeling like I had betrayed some unspoken rule, even though I knew the truth about her and Lando’s relationship.

Lando caught my eye from across the table, his expression serious and searching, but I quickly looked away, unable to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to confront the emotions swirling inside me, didn’t want to acknowledge the turmoil we’d unleashed.

After breakfast, I found an excuse to slip away, retreating to the quiet of the beach. The rhythmic crash of the waves provided some solace, but it couldn’t drown out the thoughts racing in my head. I felt torn in so many directions—caught between what I wanted, what I feared, and what I knew was right.

“Y/N.”

His voice, soft yet urgent, made me freeze. I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was, and I knew what he wanted to talk about. But I wasn’t ready.

“Can we talk?” Lando’s footsteps crunched in the sand as he approached, but I stayed where I was, staring out at the horizon as if it held all the answers.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Last night,” he said simply. “We need to figure out what happens next.”

I finally turned to face him, and the look in his eyes—so earnest, so determined—made my heart ache. “Lando, last night... it was a mistake.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “A mistake? You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” I insisted, wrapping my arms around myself defensively. “We got caught up in the moment, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still Lando Norris—famous, in the spotlight—and I’m... well, I’m just me. This world, your world... it’s not mine.”

His frustration was palpable, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Y/N, stop running away from this. From us. You know last night meant something—it wasn’t just a mistake. Don’t try to brush it off like that.”

“I’m not running,” I lied, taking a step back from him. “I’m being realistic. This... whatever this is between us, it can’t work. It’s too complicated, and I don’t want to be the reason things get messy for you.”

“Things are already messy,” he countered, his voice rising slightly. “But I don’t care, Y/N. I don’t care about the complications or the risks. I care about you.”

His words hit me hard, and for a moment, I almost let myself believe him. But the fear, the doubt, was stronger. “Lando, you have a life—a career, a public image to maintain. I’m just a distraction.”

“You’re not a distraction!” he said fiercely, reaching for my hand, but I pulled away before he could touch me. The hurt in his eyes was clear, but I couldn’t let myself get caught up in it.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I won’t be the one to complicate your life even more.”

“Y/N, don’t push me away,” he pleaded, taking another step toward me. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should,” I shot back, my voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. “Maybe it’s better for both of us if we just... forget about last night.”

“I can’t forget it,” he said quietly, his tone filled with a desperate honesty. “And neither can you.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. He was right. I couldn’t forget. But that didn’t mean I was ready to face the consequences either.

“I need time,�� I finally said, my voice trembling. “Time to figure out what this all means.”

Lando looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and frustration, but he nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll give you time. But I’m not giving up on this—on us.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Instead, I turned away and walked down the beach, putting distance between us. Lando didn’t follow, but I could feel his gaze on me, filled with all the things left unsaid.

As I walked, the uncertainty gnawed at me, but one thing was clear—I wasn’t ready to give in to whatever was between us. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

For now, all I could do was keep running.

The days that followed were tense, filled with an unspoken tension that lingered in every interaction. Lando kept his distance, respecting my need for space, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever we were in the same room. It was as if he was waiting for the right moment, waiting for me to stop running.

I spent most of my time avoiding everyone, especially Lando. When the group went out, I stayed behind, claiming I needed rest or had work to catch up on. But the truth was, I didn’t know how to face him—or myself—after everything that had happened. I was caught in a web of my own fears, struggling to untangle the threads of what I felt and what I knew was right.

That night, after days of avoiding everyone and drowning in my own thoughts, I decided to join the group. Maybe it was the loneliness finally getting to me, or maybe I just needed a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me. Whatever it was, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, trying to remember what it felt like to let go and just have fun.

I chose a deep emerald-green dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. The satin fabric shimmered under the soft light of my room, falling just above my knees with a thigh-high slit that added an extra edge to the look. The plunging neckline made a statement, and I decided to forgo any jewelry, letting the simplicity of the dress speak for itself.

My hair was styled in soft locs that cascaded down my back and shoulders, the natural texture adding an effortless elegance to the look. I’d taken the time to weave a few gold accents through the locs, catching the light as I moved and adding a subtle sparkle to the overall style. The locs framed my face perfectly, enhancing the smoky eye makeup that gave my gaze a mysterious allure.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I gave myself a nod. I looked good, and for the first time in a while, I felt good too. Tonight, I wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—bring me down.

When I walked into the living area where everyone was gathered, the conversations died down, and all eyes turned toward me. Keegan was the first to break the silence with a low whistle, his grin wide and mischievous. “Damn, Y/N! You’re killing it tonight.”

Martin quickly followed with his own whistle, nudging Keegan playfully. “She’s been holding out on us, mate. Didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

I laughed, shaking my head at their antics. “You two are ridiculous.”

But it was Lando’s reaction that caught my attention. He stood frozen in place, his eyes locked on me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was a mix of emotions playing across his face—surprise, admiration, and something deeper that made my heart skip a beat. For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of us, locked in that intense gaze.

Magui, who had been standing next to Lando, didn’t miss the exchange. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced between us, her grip tightening on Lando’s arm. She quickly masked her irritation with a forced smile, but the bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? I didn’t think you’d make it out tonight, Y/N. I suppose it’s good you’re finally joining the fun.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, and the tension between us crackled in the air. I met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I figured it was time to stop hiding and enjoy the night.”

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Well, let’s hope you can keep up.”

Before I could respond, Lando finally snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat. “You look amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice a little too soft, a little too sincere, causing Magui’s glare to sharpen.

“Thanks, Lando,” I replied, giving him a small smile before turning my attention back to the group. “So, are we heading out or what?”

The others quickly rallied, eager to start the night, but the tension lingered in the air. As we made our way out of the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to change everything, one way or another. And as Lando’s gaze lingered on me, even as Magui tried to pull him closer, I knew he felt it too.

The club was a blur of flashing lights, pulsing music, and bodies moving to the rhythm. It was loud, chaotic, and exactly what I needed to drown out the noise in my head. I let myself get lost in the atmosphere, dancing with Keegan and Martin, laughing at their jokes, and trying to push away the tension that had followed us from the house.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the weight of Lando’s gaze. Even in the crowded room, I could feel him watching me. Every time I turned around, he was there—across the bar, on the edge of the dance floor, always close but never approaching. It was as if he was waiting for the right moment, waiting for me to let my guard down.

Magui, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as subtle. She stayed glued to Lando’s side, her possessive grip on his arm a clear message to anyone who dared to come too close. She danced with him, whispered in his ear, and made sure everyone knew they were together. But it was all so forced, so obviously a performance, that it only added to the tension between them.

At one point, I caught Magui glaring at me from across the room, her eyes full of thinly veiled contempt. She leaned in to say something to Lando, her voice low but her expression unmistakable. He nodded distractedly, his gaze still flicking over to me every few moments. Whatever she said didn’t seem to have the intended effect, because his attention never wavered.

After a while, I needed a break from the dancing, so I made my way to the bar to grab a drink. As I waited for the bartender, I felt someone approach. I turned, half expecting it to be one of the guys, but instead, it was Lando. His presence was electrifying, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely audible over the music. He leaned in closer so I could hear him. “You okay?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink to steady my nerves. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “You look amazing tonight, Y/N. I mean, you always do, but tonight...”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice soft, feeling a flutter in my chest. His compliment was sincere, and it only made everything more complicated. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I try.”

We stood there for a moment, the silence between us charged with unspoken words. It felt like there was so much to say, but neither of us knew where to start.

Before I could think of anything to break the tension, Magui appeared at Lando’s side, her smile tight as she slipped her arm through his. “Lando, babe, let’s go dance. We’ve barely had any time together tonight.”

Her voice was sweet, but the look she shot me was anything but. It was clear she wasn’t thrilled about Lando and me talking, and she was making sure I knew it.

Lando hesitated, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

As they walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—jealousy, frustration, regret? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that no matter how hard I tried to distance myself, Lando had a way of pulling me back in. And as I watched him dance with Magui, his movements mechanical and his smile forced, I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling to figure out what came next.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I danced with the others, laughed at their jokes, and tried to pretend that everything was fine. But the tension between Lando and me remained, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.

As we left the club and headed back to the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. Lando and I had unfinished business, and sooner or later, we were going to have to face it—whether we were ready or not.

The drive back to the house was quiet, the energy from the club fading into a tense silence. I stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur into darkness as we left the crowded streets behind. My mind replayed the events of the night, the fleeting moments with Lando, Magui’s possessive glares, the way I’d felt Lando’s eyes on me even when he was dancing with her.

When we finally arrived back at the house, everyone seemed drained. Keegan and Martin stumbled inside, still laughing about something that happened at the club, while Max led Pietra to their room, the two of them whispering softly to each other. Magui, with her usual sharp tone, excused herself and headed to the bedroom she shared with Lando, giving me one last cutting glance before disappearing up the stairs.

Lando lingered behind, standing awkwardly in the doorway as the others dispersed. His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the struggle in his eyes—the internal battle he was fighting. He wanted to talk, to address everything that had been left unsaid between us, but he was trapped in his own confusion, caught between his obligations and what he truly wanted.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him that chance. The thought of another conversation filled with half-truths and what-ifs left a bitter taste in my mouth. But a part of me—a part that had been buried for years—ached to hear what he had to say. To know if he felt even a fraction of what I was feeling.

“I’m heading to bed,” I said finally, breaking the silence. My voice came out steadier than I expected, even though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Goodnight, Lando.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he just nodded, a look of regret flashing across his face as I turned away.

I made my way upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As I reached my room, I paused at the door, my hand hovering over the handle. I could still feel Lando’s presence downstairs, the weight of his indecision pressing down on both of us. For a brief moment, I considered turning around, marching back down those stairs, and demanding answers. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not tonight.

I slipped inside my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. The silence was deafening as I kicked off my heels and sank onto the edge of the bed. The night had left me emotionally drained, and all I wanted was to shut my eyes and forget everything. But sleep didn’t come easily.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—I couldn’t tell. The house was eerily still, and the only sound was the occasional rustle of the wind outside. I was finally starting to drift off when I heard it—a soft knock on my door. My heart lurched, and I held my breath, hoping it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

But then it came again, louder this time.

I hesitated, my mind racing. Who could it be?

Another knock, more insistent now, followed by a whispered, “Y/N, it’s me.”

Lando.

My pulse quickened, and I found myself frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to ignore him, to let him stand out there and grapple with whatever he needed to say. But another part of me—the part that had always struggled to keep my distance from him—couldn’t resist.

Slowly, I stood up and made my way to the door. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, and I hesitated for just a moment longer before finally opening it.

Lando stood there, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. His usual confidence seemed to have abandoned him, leaving behind a rawness that I wasn’t used to seeing. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with everything we hadn’t said.

“Y/N, I can’t keep doing this,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse. “I can’t keep pretending that I don’t—”

“Lando,” I interrupted, my own voice barely a whisper. “We can’t. It’s too complicated.”

“I know it is,” he replied, stepping closer, his eyes searching mine. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I’ve tried to push it away, to ignore it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt the walls I’d built around my heart start to crumble. But I couldn’t let myself fall into this trap again. Not when so much was at stake.

“Lando, you have a girlfriend,” I reminded him, my voice shaking slightly. “And she’s right down the hall.”

He flinched, guilt flickering in his eyes. “It’s not real, Y/N. You know that. It’s just for show, for the cameras. But what I feel for you... that’s real. It always has been.”

His confession hung in the air between us, heavy and dangerous. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Every instinct screamed at me to shut the door, to end this conversation before it went too far. But instead, I found myself drawn to him, unable to tear my gaze away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently taking my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the feeling.

“Then let me prove it to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Just... don’t shut me out, Y/N. Not again.”

I stared at him, torn between the intense connection we shared and the voice of reason that told me this was a terrible idea. The past had taught me how easily things could fall apart, how quickly emotions could become entangled in a mess of hurt and betrayal.

But as I stood there, on the precipice of something that could either destroy us or finally bring us together, I knew one thing for certain—I couldn’t run from this forever.

“Okay,” I whispered, barely able to believe the word had left my lips. “But no more games, Lando. This has to be real.”

His eyes lit up with hope, and he nodded, squeezing my hand. “No more games. I promise.”

And just as I started to let my guard down, just as I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could make this work, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Both of us froze, and my heart dropped as the door at the end of the hall creaked open.

Magui’s voice, sharp and cutting, sliced through the silence. “Lando? What the hell is going on?”

Our eyes met, panic flashing between us. The moment of truth had come, and there was no turning back now.

__________________________________

LN4 Taglist: @cmleitora, @icecoldtires, @ggaslyp1, @really-fucking-tired, @lightdragonrayne, @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @evie-119, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #9] White

warnings: birdie time he he. honestly just very wholesome all round, but the embers are burningggg, they’re very wet! fantastic! (1) mention of Hang Sơn Đoòng (worlds biggest cave).

soundtrack: lemon - loco, hwasa; safety zone - j-hope

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

It's mid-morning the following Monday when Jeongguk's message lands in your inbox. The sky is free of clouds, sun beating down on the windows of the subway carriage you're in. It's above ground, crossing the river.

Summer is reaching the end of its peak, but monsoons are still a looming threat. There have been weather warnings all month, but today seems okay. You've an umbrella tucked into your tote just in case, legs crossed as you flick through your notifications on the subway.

Three unread messages sit pretty at the top of your inbox.

Jeongguk: Still on for today?

Danbi: u, me, ryan reynolds in lycra, tonight. game?

Seokjin:  such a tease, you know i love those shorts on you - if memory serves me correctly they were off far more than they were on whenever you wore them ;) you around tonight?

Jeongguk is probably the only one who needs a reply, and yet you can't help but stare at Seokjin's message for a little longer than you should.

If Danbi knew you were texting him, she'd probably confiscate your phone, like your parents used to do during your teen years. Jeongguk would probably throw all your stupid little origami birds at you. Would hope you'd get a paper cut.

It'd be deserved, you think.

Jeongguk had wasted his entire Sunday on you as a result of Seokjin's carelessness. You didn't leave until Jimin had taken a nap on the couch at just gone six, your day full of mindless chatter and harmless distractions from Seokjin. It had been nice. Comforting.

And yet when you'd arrived home, a text had been waiting from Seokjin:

heyyy, sorry I had to rush off. didn't wanna wake you. you looked toooo cute. was so nice to see you again.

It's kind of embarrassing, the way your heart seemed to settle at the sight of it; like things were as they should be once more.

You told yourself that Seokjin hadn't meant to upset you. That it was all a big misunderstanding.

He said everything you wanted him to in that message. Said sorry. Maybe he didn't give you an excuse nor an explanation, but he did give you a compliment, and that had you giggling.

Had you thinking that maybe you'd been reactive, and were too highly strung. Perhaps he was never the issue. What if it was you?

Still, it's Jeongguk's message thread you tap through to instead - yeah, just on the subway now! we're still meeting there?

You contemplate whether or not you want to tell him that you've spoken to Seokjin later. He'll no doubt ask about him, with a sneer on his lips, nose upturned at the mere thought of him.

And so naturally, you know you'll lie. "No. Not heard from him."

It's not that you want to be dishonest. Not in the slightest.

You're no stranger to a white lie or two, but Jeongguk had scooped up all of your broken pieces in the early hours of yesterday morning, and tried to washi tape them back together - only for you to run straight back to the person holding a sledgehammer.

You don't want to be reckless with the care Jeongguk's afforded to you; it's just that while Jin's got a sledgehammer in one hand, it also looks like he's got super glue in the other. It's a little bit stronger than washi tape.

Especially Jeongguk's rolls of washi tape; which are the entire reason why you're spending your day off on the subway, and not tucked up in bed, instead.

Jeongguk had devised a plan following the fall of your origami bird, but had neglected to tell you exactly what that plan was.

Had said "look, I won't lie - I can't help you with this. Gimmie the evening to think of a plan, though? I'll text you later."

He'd texted you an address by the time you'd arrived home. Told you not to search it up; said he'd meet you there at midday. Kind of felt like a challenge, and you don't like losing - so you'd done as he'd said. Other than putting the address into Naver maps to find the route, you were none the wiser as to where you were headed.

The subway leads you to the outskirts of town. Down by the river, just a little further up from the arboretum you always tell yourself you should visit more often. You're local to the city, but it's so vast that there are still areas you aren't too familiar with. This is one of them. You know what's in the general area - the arboretum, an old water park, and some museums, but you've no idea what the exact address could be.

As you climb the stairs, you're regretful of the fact you actually listened to Jeongguk. Should have looked up the address beforehand. Seen what was about; what dress code would have been appropriate.

Denim shorts hug your curves, and a little white blouse sits prettily on your shoulders. You're making the most of the summer while it lasts; skin exposed, despite the judgement thrown your way by the ajummas you pass on the street.

A mirror selfie had been sent to Seokjin before you'd left the house, in reply to his collarbone-wielding, broad shoulder-baring bed selfie. His hair had been messy, and there was a little pink mark on his neck. You're pretty sure you left it there. Didn't wanna focus on it for too long just in case you realised that you... didn't.

There had been a little tactful positioning of your phone in front of your face when you took your photo. Had been covering your eyes. Hiding the glitter.

And it's funny, 'cause it's the first thing that Jeongguk notices when he spots you.

You're looking around, realising exactly where you are, a frown slowly forming. He'd expected nothing less. You always arrive with a small frown whenever he's around - but he also always manages to get you beaming, too. It's part of the charm that comes with being around Jeongguk. Bad moods dissolve into nothingness.

He smiles, just like he always does. Waves. Throws you not one, but two peace signs. His thin lips plumpen into a pout as he wiggles his shoulders, the ease of acting childishly coming naturally when he's around you.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He glows as if he hadn't seen you less than twenty-four hours ago.

Strolling towards you, he ignores the slight scowl that's resting on your neat brows. Just continues smiling. All doe-eyed and dainty. Hopes you won't be able to resist breaking into a smile, too.

He likes your glitter today. It's just in the corners of your eyes. Thinks you look like a fairy.

"I'm wearing white!" is all you can say, a little exasperation clouding your words, before laughter begins to tumble from your lips whether you want it to or not. "You asshole! You should have warned me!"

Jeongguk's wearing all black. A pair of shorts, a long sleeve swimming shirt and one of his many oversized black t-shirts over the top. See, he's dressed according to his plans - the plans that he neglected to share with you.

But he's a man. How much can you really expect from him? You doubt he's ever had to run home in the middle of a thunderstorm with his arms crossed over his chest to protect his modesty. Doubt his eyes have ever felt the unwelcome intrusion of sodden mascara running into them.

"Oh, chill out, Disco Ball," he banters, rolling his eyes as he twiddles his lip ring with his tongue. He comes to a stop in front of you. Pouts. Pushes his lips to the side, and his cheek slowly rises like a freshly baked loaf of bread. "It's only a little water. Worst comes to the worst, we'll just buy you another shirt."

When Jeongguk says it's only a 'little water,' he's telling a big fat lie.

You're both well aware that 'little' is hardly the appropriate word to use.

Not when you're standing next to the entrance of the largest outdoor waterpark in the city.

You don't want to say definitively, but you think it might be the largest waterpark in the entire district. Biggest you've ever been to, that's for sure, not that you really make a habit of it.

"Look," he says. "You're the one who wrote the bird, not me. Blame yourself."

"And you're the one who didn't give me a dress code," you reply with a small scoff. He's unbelievable.

It's not like he was ever supposed to see your birds. Your intention had only ever been for the pair of you to vent out your frustration; to see them in black and white and maybe colour them in.

"You could have just looked at Naver. Seen where you were going."

"You told me not to!"

Jeongguk smirks to himself, a little pleased with how much you seem to have blindly trusted him. He also thinks it's incredibly foolish, and adds it to his list of things he needs to worry about in the future. While it's him that you're mindlessly following the orders of, it's okay, he supposes. Knows you're safe. Nothing to worry about right now.

"You'll be fine, Byeol," he says, hooking an arm around your neck, rubbing his knuckles against the crown of your head. You don't even bother to scramble away, sensing his grip tighten when your back edges out from his grasp. With arms like his, you're ensnared whether you like it or not. "You bring your bird?"

He keeps his arm locked around your neck, resting on your shoulders, but stands a little straighter as you head in direction of the waterpark. His relaxed posture allows you to rummage around in your tote bag for the small piece of folded paper. It's in the bottom, a little crumpled, but still quite clearly in bird form.

Jeongguk pinches it from you as soon as you retrieve it, not seeming to care much for the fact that it's your bird. You're locked in by his arms as he strengthens some of the creases that have fallen lax thanks to the lack of attention you'd been paying when you tossed it into the bag.

"You're gonna give yourself bad bird luck," he tells you. "Gotta preserve them, Byeol, or otherwise you'll never overcome your fears."

"I'm not really sure we'll be overcoming any fears today," you mutter in response.

He takes great offence to this. Tells you to 'stop being a negative Nancy', and that 'you'll never overcome your fears with an attitude like that'. You pinch him through his shirt. He recoils away from you, finally giving you a little room to breathe.

And then he calls you a goblin.

"That's rich," you snort, peering into your bag once again to get your wallet, shooing his hands away as he brings out his own wallet from his shorts pocket. "Nah, this is on me. My fear. I'll pay."

There's an attempt from him to protest, but you just tell the cashier you're paying for two, and there's very little he can do about it. He feels bad. This is, after all, his idea. He gave you no wiggle room. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.

A bathroom? Maybe.

But not here.

"Absolutely not," you had exclaimed yesterday afternoon after reading the bird. Jeongguk couldn't stop laughing. "Stop! You'll give me a complex."

He hadn't meant to find it so funny - he was just taken by surprise. It's a reflex.

"No, no," he cooed. "It's cute. Really sweet, actually. Should have told me last night. Could have actually done something about it."

It was at that point that you flicked him on the forehead. Told him to go touch some grass. Get his head out of his ass.

And then, finally, you told him, "You're never showering with me."

In typical Jeongguk fashion, he'd just smirked. Found your defensiveness funny. "And nor is anyone else, apparently."

The bird resting on Jeongguk's stomach was laying flat, open on your words:

SHOWER WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

He thinks it's the all caps that cracked him up so much. So aggressive. So cute. A bit like you.

Showers had been one of your favourite forms of intimacy during past relationships. You'd even found it fun with casual hookups.

But now?

Feels forbidden. Tarnished. Dirty.

It's almost as if someone else running their hands over your skin beneath the water will rid you of the stain that Seokjin left - and if you're not his, whose are you?

It's stupid because you don't belong to anyone but yourself. You'd spent months resenting the removal of your identity, but now that you have the chance to reclaim it, you're still letting his mark remain.

You had told Jeongguk later that afternoon - with absolute certainty - that he'd never be facing that fear with you, only for him to say, "it doesn't have to be that big of a deal. I'll prove it to you."

And now he's trying to do exactly that.

He leads as you follow and make your way into the park. It's been a fair few years since your last visit, but it always looks the same; paint work a little tatty, white watermarks tarnishing pipes, and slightly dated equipment available for hire. In fact, you think the inflatables sitting pretty and ready for renting might be the same ones you used as a child on family trips.

"Still don't understand how on earth this is supposed to help me with my fear of intimacy," you speak softly once Jeongguk is done telling you about the tallest waterslide in the world. It's in Brazil, and he insists that he doesn't understand why on earth they called it Kilimanjaro when it's not even remotely close in height nor geographical location.

You tell him he's pedantic and he smiles as if you've just given him a gold star.

"It's helping because we're making it less scary," Jeongguk states all very plainly. Seems simple to him. His logical mind leaps from A to B, while yours is still spiralling round and round like a hula-hoop. "What do you do in the shower?"

"When I'm with someone else?" You raise a brow. "Not sure I want to say it out loud in a kid's waterpark."

"Oh, ew, no, not that part. I mean the basics," he sighs, before choosing just to answer for you. "You get wet. That's the first hurdle."

"Gguk, that's barely even the first meter," you counter. "And after that? There's still a billion hurdles left to jump."

"Well, you have to start somewhere, don't you?" He nudges his shoulder against yours, before spotting the concessions store up ahead. "See. Told you you'd be able to buy a shirt. Here."

He hands you his wallet, only for you to pass it right back.

"It's good, I'll get it."

"I dragged you here."

"And I'm the one who made that stupid bird," you laugh. "It's fine. Tell you what though, if they only have ugly shirts, you're gonna have to get one too. Can't be doing this alone."

"Watcha mean?"

"Well look at you," you shrug, as if it's plainly obvious. "You're in all black and - not that I agree with this, but - I'm sure some people will find you 'okay' looking. You know all the yummy mummies are gonna be swooning over you instead of looking after their kids."

"Swooning?" He grins with a small chortle. "Are you trying to insinuate something, Byeol?"

You gasp, and take a step away from him. "Are you saying I look like a mother?"

This, he decides rather quickly, is dangerous. You almost sound like you're flirting. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that he knows he shouldn't indulge himself and yet-

"Maybe I'm into MILFs."

You've a remarkably good poker face. He can't tell if you're actually annoyed, until you look at him with a small smile. It's hidden by the sultry, tempestuous expression you're throwing his way, but definitely still there.

"So first I'm a mother, and now you wanna fuck me? Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

If there's one thing Jeongguk enjoys, it's a girl who knows how to twist words. Regretfully, it always gets him thinking about other ways they could twist their tongues. The thoughts are unsavoury. Sordid. Lewd.

But you're you.

You're off-limits, and he knows better than to play with fire. He needs to get you wet.

Just, like, not in that way.

"I'll put you under that fountain if you don't stop twisting my words," he asserts as you walk through the park. To your right is a pool, with bright slides twisting in all directions around it. Families play, and laughter prevails. It's nice.

To your left is a row of spouting fountains for kids to run through, water pitter-pattering against the warm concrete floor. They're tall enough that even Jeongguk could stand beneath them without issue. You always think they look like reverse umbrellas; water pouring where protection should be.

Puddles of water interrupt the walkway, but neither of you care all that much.

"Maybe if you got your head out your ass and stopped flirting-"

"Not flirting."

You scoff as sarcasm wraps itself around your words. "Yeah, and I'm a MILF."

He pauses. Stops walking. Laughs.

"Right," Jeongguk says. "That's it."

It's said in a tone so light and airy that you almost don't realise he's wrapping his arms around you with a grip tight enough to crack a rib. Your playful shrieks are ignored by other park visitors, chalked up to you being a pair of young lovers enjoying the frivolity of a waterpark together.

"I'm in white!" is your final cry before he pulls you under the cascade of a fountain with him.

The worst part of it, you think, is how goddamn happy he sounds, laughing at your misery.

"And I told you to stop twisting my words, Byeol," he says like the bastard he is, while you struggle against him again. Finally releasing you, he keeps a clasp on your wrists to prevent you from straying. "You made your choice."

"I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering - and then you're laughing.

Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure.

Jeongguk loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jeongguk finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day.

Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.

Water barrels down on the pair of you, soaking your hair, your clothes, your skin. It's heavy, the pressure of the fountain far heavier than a shower, but you suppose the outcome is the same.

You don't want to look at Jeongguk with anything but moderate vexation, and yet there's a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Strands of wet hair stick to his face, droplets catching on his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He shakes like a dog caught out in the rain, only to continue getting drenched because he doesn't move from the fountains trajectory. It'd be so easy for him to just manoeuvre himself out of the fountain's direct line and hold you in place, but he chooses to be caught up in it, too. Chooses to be with you. Experience with you.

You'd done his bird together. Only fair for him to do yours with you.

"You still scared, Byeol?" Jeongguk asks, voice quiet beneath the water pummeling down on you both, and yet it has your attention loud and clear.

You want to banter back, say something that will get tripping on his words just like you seem to be - but the rope tied around your ankles seems to be around your tongue, too. Instead, you just shake your head.

"See," he smiles, now. Pulls a hand away from your forehead to wipe at his. Puts it back. "Are showers really that scary?"

And then you do laugh. "It's not a shower. You know it isn't even close."

His face scrunches, water catching in all of his little ridges.

He'll admit the water is annoying. Keeps having to close his eyes. It's bothersome, and it's not like he even cares for boundaries anymore at this point, so-

Fuck it.

His pinkies are against your forehead, index fingers outward. He lowers his head, mirroring you. Rests his forehead against his index fingers. Swears. Can finally fucking see.

And now that he can?

He's looking at you.

With his head angled to such a degree that your chins couldn't be further apart, you still manage to fool yourself to believe that your lashes could brush.

"It's as close as we'll get to one," he counters. "You are showering with another person."

"I'm under a stream of water with another person."

"And how is that any different to showering with someone?"

He isn't stupid. He knows the answer. Knows that you're pedantic enough to go into all the clauses and stipulations that would ever stop this from being classed as a shower - and so he doesn't let you.

Instead, he pulls away, grabbing your wrist as he does so. Leads you further into the park with a smile so big you're surprised he doesn't dislocate his jaw.

"That's the hard part done," he assures you. "You've had a shower with someone. Say thank you."

There's an acute awareness between you both that he's not helped you to overcome your fear in the slightest - but he does have you laughing as you walk through the park, absolutely sodden, without a single care in the world. You're not even bothered by the fact your black bra is visible through the soaked fabric of your shirt.

See, Jeongguk's gotten you relaxed in a situation when you know you'd typically be frantic. He's taking the pressure off. Got you giggling. Got you facing a fear, even if it's not exactly how he set out to do so, nor the fear in question.

In his defence, he really had thought his contrived little plan would count. He'd have never insisted on actually taking a shower with you. He understands why you consider them so intimate. He does, too. Something about the vulnerability really gets him. It's not even the sex that inevitably comes with one that makes him weak at the knees.

He thinks of the girl who folded paper butterflies for him, and how he'd shampoo her hair, chest pressed to her back, and the fact it was in the confines of his bathroom that he realised he was in love with her.

So, Jeongguk gets it. It's why he wouldn't even consider anything but his dumb little waterpark shower as a remedy of your insecurities. He hopes a lesson is learned even if a fear isn't overcome: you can let down your guard without giving up all of you.

What it comes down to, you think, is that Jeongguk isn't a taker. He's not a giver, either, really - but when your walls start to crack and crumble, he doesn't intrude. Stands at a safe distance. Offer you back your bricks. Most men you knew would see a weakness in your defences and claim what's yours as their own.

He's not always been this way. Used to have a 'what's yours is mine' understanding of his relationships, too.

His butterfly girl had taught him that no, just because he was given temporary access to something didn't mean it was his. He'd learnt the hard way after he'd always swapped his heart with hers, not realising she'd ever want it back.

And so while Jeongguk will never fully understand whatever you went through - not unless you choose to share it with him - he can empathise. Treat you how he wished someone would have treated him while he was still healing.

As the clouds migrate across the sky, fluffy white shapes occasionally hiding the careful watch of the sun, the day rolls into stupid competitions and races down the tallest slides in the park. The reason you'd ended up here doesn't seem to matter.

Jeongguk races you to the top of the slides again, and again, and again, just to try and beat you down them. He never wins.

Not until you hold back by just a millisecond.

It's just enough to give him a slight edge, and have him roaring in victory - "ha! suck it! loser!" - as he slaps at the water, a smile larger than Hang Sơn Đoòng eclipsing any desire you had to win. You'll let him have this one. Let him have one victory.

The haze of late-afternoon sun grazes down on the pair of you, while you lounge by the 'adults-only' pool area. A lot of families have gone home already, but sometimes it's nice to be away from the shrieks of kids messing about in the water.

You're not exactly the maternal type. In fact, Jeongguk's the one who's been pointing out how cute the kids are in their little armbands and sprout hairstyles. He's not wrong. They're incredibly adorable - you're just not that naturally inclined to go 'awww'.

It's all swings and roundabouts, though. Getting away from kids meant being surrounded by, well, some less wholesome auras.

Jeongguk thinks he notices it first; the unwelcome gaze of a middle-aged man. He's felt it for a little while. Upwards of ten minutes. Thinks you're none the wiser. Tries to figure out what's so fucking interesting. Stares him out a little bit - but is ignored.

See, the man - who is probably old enough to be your father - isn't looking at Jeongguk at all. Too busy staring at you, and that shirt of yours which is still yet to dry out. You're on your back, sunning yourself, clothes sodden and sticking to your skin.

Jeongguk thinks you look no different to anyone else in the park. It's typical to wear regular clothes in places like these. Would be more shocking if you were in a bikini. And so while yes, he has noticed the fact your bra is dark, he couldn't tell you the colour because he's been trying not to look. Actively avoiding it, actually.

Annoyance isn't something that Jeongguk's ever been able to hide well.

As he sucks in a little bit of air between his teeth and mutters a small curse to himself, you glance over.

"Hmm?" you ask.

It's not like you don't know the man's staring. You had warned Jeongguk about your attire earlier. Was always gonna happen. He just hadn't realised that this was the reason why you'd been so insistent about the fact he was an asshole for not giving you a dress code.

Realistically, you could have bought a second shirt - but the pair of you got distracted. Didn't care so much when you were laughing and joking about how you both look like rats with your hair all wet.

"Here," he says, tugging on his shirt at the nape of his neck. There's resistance, the weight of the water dragging against his skin, but he pays it no mind as he pulls the shirt over his head. You're still laying down on your back, and turn onto your front with a small grin.

"Y'know if I really was all that bothered, I'd just do this," you say, talking about your change in position. It's not that you want the man to stare - you just know he will regardless. Know that your shorts have ridden up a little, and so he's getting a whole new type of show.

Jeongguk doesn't laugh. Smiles, but doesn't let it reach his eyes. Leans over and drapes the fabric of his shirt over the top of your legs. Over your ass. "You'll burn."

"I'm wearing suncream," you purr, knowing that this has nothing to do with keeping your skin safe.

And so Jeongguk just shrugs. Considers staying silent. Chooses not to.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he almost growls beneath his breath, feigning indifference through his body language. "But I don't."

"You saying you can't help yourself?" You tease, to which he just rolls his eyes and lays back down.

"I can help myself perfectly well," he says, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. "Just didn't finish my sentence."

"Oh?" you chirp with great curiosity.

There's a boldness to the way you're engaging in conversation with him. Makes you realise that Jeongguk is just the same as any other boy. He can see you as a sexual object, apparently. Just chooses not to. It's all very interesting.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he repeats, crossing his arms over his torso, a defensiveness to his posture, even when he's flat on his back. "But I don't want him to."

Though his eyes remain closed, Jeongguk can hear you move to sit on your knees.

Your back is to the sleazebag, Jeongguk shirt bunching by your heels. You pull it around and bundle it in your lap, mouth resting open in a slight stare of shock.

Unspoken words beg for him to look at you.

But he doesn't. Keeps his eyes firmly shut. Grins. Just says, "Lie back down, Byeol."

The worst part is that you want to. You really do. When his voice is that low, the look on his face that cocky, you want to fold like a sheet of fucking origami paper. Have him bending you about like one of those damn birds.

But then you take a second to think, and realise you're no better than that guy who is still staring at you so intensely you're surprised he doesn't burst a blood vessel. Makes you feel bad. Guilty.

So instead you toss Jeongguk his shirt back and, as you stand, say, "I've a fear of intimacy, Jeongguk. No fear in telling men to fuck off."

He's not surprised by your response. Quite amused by it. Sits up on his elbows. Watches with curiosity as you walk away from him - and then is stunned to see you beeline for the man.

It's the kind of thing he'd see in a movie, background characters slowing to a stop, time ceasing to move except for the leading lady.

And then you're pointing. Accusing. Jeongguk's not sure of what - he can't hear you from this far away - but he knows it isn't nice. Watches the blood drain from the man's face. He's ghostly. And then it all returns, red and raw, with such a vengeance he's surprised blood doesn't start leaking from his nose.

When you turn on your heel, Jeongguk observes with morbid novelty at the scene unfolding; the intense shame on the man's face and the pure brilliance on yours.

"Men," you sigh, as you sit back down next to him. Mirroring his position, you're up on your elbows until you casually let yourself fall back into your original position. "Sorry, where were we? You told me to lie down? Done."

Jeongguk doesn't say anything. Just grins. Collapses back down, too. Doesn't tell you to cover up. Knows better.

Doesn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, though.

Relays the story to you as if you weren't there - weren't central to it - with so much animation that you think he might turn into a cartoon on the subway home.

He's still talking about it between the part where he invites you back for dinner - "Jimin's gonna be in but it's cool. We haven't eaten all day, you must be starving." - and the part where he stands by your door, taking a whole twenty minutes to say goodbye.

You've declined the offer. Told him it'd be a bit weird seeing Jimin. Wouldn't know how to explain it. Jeongguk just says "of course, yeah, you're right. Didn't even think of that. My bad."

There's a little silence afterwards. You know why. It's rejection. Not romantic, nor for anything serious, but it's still the same difference. He'd spent the day trying to help you break down walls only for you to put your bricks on top of his.

It's as he's heading down your stairs (after his fifteenth and final 'bye') that you realise how rude you've been. Just 'cause you wouldn't feel entirely welcome at his doesn't mean he's not welcome at yours.

"Hey, wait a sec! Danbi's home, but do you wanna eat here?" You chance. "We don't have much in, but I can order or we can-"

"My God, I thought you'd never ask," he grins immediately turning on his heel and back towards you. "So hungry I might die."

"You won't."

"I could."

The pair of you bicker as you enter your apartment, Danbi glancing up from the sofa. She looks at you, then looks at Jeongguk, and takes a second to place his face. Definitely knows it - and then it clicks.

She considers asking why the fuck your favourite barman is following you in. He's known within the confines of your apartment as the Barman That Smiles (more commonly referred to as BTS boy), Jeongguk's name a secret just for you to know. Danbi doesn't realise all of those nights you waste are the bar are wasted on him, nor does she realise he's the reason you snuck off the other night.

What she does wonder, however, is if this is all part of your master-get-revenge-on-Seokjin-plan.

Instead of voicing any of these queries, she settles on "what are we having for dinner?"

You shrug. "Ask Jeongguk. He's paying."

He raises a brow as if to question your assertion - only for him to cough up the bill for the pizza delivery that feeds the three of you through a Deadpool rewatch.

When he leaves, Danbi tells him he has to come back next week for Deadpool 2. You grin as you walk him out.

"She just wants you to pay for more food," you tell and he nods. Says he knows.

But then he calls back over to Danbi, "See you next week."

She does a little cheer, and it's all very sweet. They get on well. His humour is welcome in your apartment, and so is his presence. Danbi also hopes it means she'll get more free drinks next time she's at the club.

"She'll play you like a damn fiddle if you let her," you warn just out of her earshot.

"Good," he grins. "We can double date with you and Jimin."

You tell him to fuck off - but also insist that he lets you know when he gets home. The way you care about him is so casual that it feels as if it's been this way for years.

As he heads on home, Jeongguk kind of hopes it will be. Hopes it's the kind of friendship that stands the test of time. Worries that he shouldn't take the flirting too far - but then he's distracted by the little fleck of glitter on the top of his hand. His thoughts are lost, a smile unwinding on his lips as he strolls back to his place.

The skies are void of stars tonight, and yet, for the first time in months, Jeongguk's eyes are full of them.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[the-fluff-piece]

And here's the request from @pastel9girlbunny000die which was commented on the announcement post:

"I don't know if this is still going, I really don't know how to make a request other than through comments? But can I get 7,🥰, sanji, (y/n) is doing the proposal"

This is for the now closed Follower milestone event

Also check out my masterlists for stories and headcanons

Here's

Engagement cake

You've been with this sweet cutie for a while now and now he almost married someone else.

He looked too hot in his wedding suit, so you decide to take matters into your own hands and make him your husband.

Cute, dramatic superfluff, y/n tries to bake a cake for him, than proposes

Sanji, your boyfriend, had the audacity to even consider marrying another and you've given him a hard time.

You either loved him to pieces or threw tantrums because he really, really disappointed you, but he was also still the perfect gentleman of your dreams. It was a mixed bag of emotions. He had to sleep in his hammock with the other boys again because you couldn't make up your mind if you wanted to kiss or kill him.

He's been nothing but a poor little cutie, tip toeing around you, always armored with a treat to appease you.

Another point that made you mad was: that Pudding girl was perfect for him. She was cute and busty and really proficient at baking and cooking as well. You could already see them open up a little bistro together and kissing in the kitchen.

This was the turning point of your relationship - he needed to decide whether he was yours or not. You already bought an engagement Ring with a sapphire - blue like his eyes - and decided to bake the cake of cakes for him. To show him you were just as good as she was.

The famous North Blue sweet had 16 thin layers, between each would be a fine layer of filling. It was topped with a crown of meringues. Hard to bake, but if you could pull it off, he would know that you were just as good as that girl, even though you're not directly a baker.

You got the ring and you got the recipe - you just had to wait for the kitchen to be free so you could actually bake it without him knowing.

The first time was an absolute disaster. It was a crumbling, far to liquid mess of butter and biscuit, the meringue was coals.

You fed it to Luffy to destroy the evidence and tried again. And again. And again. That thing was hard to make. At this pace, you would be done when Luffy was pirate King and Sanji's children with Pudding were going to school. You opted for easier and easier options - until you arrived at bland lemon cake. A uniform dough in rectangular shape with lemons.

Eventually, you produced an acceptable version. It had a gummi-like consistency and it looked like it exploded, but it was the best you could hope to manage. Your respect for Pudding had grown, but not enough to.givr Sanji up. You were at the end of your strength. It had to do.

You invited Sanji to deck for tea and told him not to bring anything - you would take care of it.

He showed up with an unreadable expression, a serene smile was on his face and he was a full gentleman - just not the man you knew. No kiss, no kneeling, just silent observation.

He greeted you with a serious "my lady" and sat down, looking over the less than perfect cake and probably horrible tea you poured. It threw you completely off guard.

"So uhm, I, well I baked you a cake. And made tea. I hope you like it" you tried to keep in control of the situation, cutting the cake and handing him a piece.

He politely said "thank you" and began to eat. You forgot to take one yourself, his strange behavior made your mind race. Was he disappointed? Did he want to break up after you were moping for weeks?

The fork went in between his perfect lips and he chewed slowly. Still not letting on what he thought. Your heart pounded and your stomach turned. He swallowed. Another bite. Chewing, swallow. He looked at his plate as you stared in his face, or rather: at his mouth. Waiting for a smile, or a word...but nothing.

Your gaze wandered up to study his eyes. He briefly looked up - his eyes looked wet. Another bite.

As you watched that sorry excuse of a cake vanish in his mouth, a tear ran past the corner of his mouth. He was...crying? It was the last thing you expected. You expected a gentle let down, but no scene.

"You OK, honey?" You asked.

He nodded while chewing.

"I am" He answered and laid down the fork.

"That is the best cake I have ever tasted" He calmly said as his lip began to tremble.

"I uhm, thank you" You answered as you tried not to cry yourself.

You swept the tears off his cheek and he caught your hand to give it a gentle kiss before pressing his cheek against your palm with such need, you just had to get up and sit down on his lap to hug him to your chest.

"Do you forgive me?" He asked, choking. Now you were really worried. He was near your breasts and didn't get a nosebleed. He was either seriously distressed or sick.

"Of course I do" you answered, stroking his soft hair with your fingers.

"I wasn't sure if I messed up too bad." He said with a relieved smile.

He touched your cheek. His hand trailed down your collarbone and stopped at the small pool of tears he had caused.

"I'm so sorry I ruined your clothes with my tears" He cried. "I don't deserve-" You put a finger on his mouth. There he was again. Dramatic Sanji was back - now you were the one to be relieved.

"Close your eyes now" you told him as you fished the engagement ring out of your pocket. You took his hand and slipped it onto his ring finger.

His eyes shot open to look at the blue rock at his finger, his mouth opened and closed as unsaid words seemed to bubble out of him.

"I just thought I snatch you away to keep you for myself. Will you be my husband?" You whispered into his ear, enjoying the tickle of his hair on your face.

His head turned to you as he was clearly overwhelmed by everything that was happening, tears flowing from his eyes in a thick stream now. Without warning, he clutched you to him and screamed the loudest

"YES"

The new world has ever heard and soon you were smothered by kisses and promises of eternal love and romance.

Eventually, he seemed exhausted and just cuddled up to you - at which point you looked up and into the shocked eyes of the entire crew. You began patting Sanji's back to alert him to the company.

He looked up at you with puffy eyes "huh?" He asked, sniffing.

You turned his head towards your crewmates and instead of embarrassment of being witnessed during this intimate moment, he grinned broadly, showing his hand with the ring proudly.

Nami gasped and asked for the price, while Robin cheered and Brook broke into song. Franky ran away with an "ew" as Zoro looked flustered and Usopp tried to calm Luffy and Chopper, who were afraid Sanji would leave with you.

When everyone had said their congratulations and marveled at his ring, Sanji announced a big feast and carried you into the kitchen so you could "help" him, which meant you sat at the counter and watched him do what he loved while he periodically stared at the ring at his finger and smiled. You got to taste everything he made first to reassure him that it was great.

The party lasted until late at night, there was lots of food and drink for the entire crew and Sanji couldn't stop talking about the wedding buffet he already planned in his head. When everything was eaten up and cleaned, you could finally fall into bed together for the first time in weeks.

As he cuddled up to you and mumbled more plans for your future, you just had to ask: "the cake was terrible, wasn't it?"

"No, it was great" He answered.

You smacked him "liar!"

He chuckled.

"No, it's the truth! It was the best cake in the world, because you made it for me!" He kissed your forehead. "Just for me"

I hope you people liked this one!

The best ingredient is always love (also butter and sugar)

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

HANDS ON YOU — 026

IN WHICH; ILAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÉRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

smau + written (0.3k words)

❥･• chapter 26 — way back home

"Lee Heeseung." He freezes in his tracks upon hearing his full name, a name that come to think about, had never left your lips before.

"Yes?" He turns around sheepishly to face you. The two of you are standing in front of his dorm, and he nervously fidgets with the number pad behind him. "You're hiding something." You squint, and Heeseung mentally curses at your keen leader instincts.

"No, I just want to show you my room!"

"What are you, twelve?"

"Don't ask so many questions." He hurriedly punches in the code to his dorm, opening the door to find the apartment completely pitch black. He gestures for you to enter first, and though suspicious, you don't refuse. "Aren't you off today? Where's the rest of your mem—"

"SURPRISE!" You jump as the lights flicker on, revealing the living room adorned with string lights and balloons spelling out "Sorry" on the wall. It takes a moment for the scene to register—the entirety of ENHYPEN is there, along with your own members, every single one of them.

You stand frozen in the doorway, speechless, as if the whole world has come to a standstill for a moment while you take in the sight before you—your members, who somehow made up while you were away, holding each other with open arms extended to you.

"My arm is starting to hurt. Are you going to bring it in or not?" Ray breaks the silence, flicking her wrist as a sign for you to quickly join in on the Lumière group hug. Just then, you feel two hands rest on your shoulders, relieving them from the tension that had built up over the past two days.

"Go on, they're waiting for you." Heeseung's gentle voice cuts through the white noise filling your ears. In an instant, tears well up in your eyes as you rush into the arms of the people you'd give everything for.

"But how did…?"

Realisation dawns on you, and you whirl around to face the culprit. "So that's why you were acting so strange! You were distracting me!" You point an accusing finger at Heeseung, who shrugs and pouts at the same time.

“I’m sorry Y/N, for being the whiny and childish bitch I am. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on any of you like that, I hope you know I care about you too, truly.” Ray speaks out and you swear you almost burst into a fit of tears.

“Ray, you already know I’m basically immune to all the shit you say right?” You light-heartedly joke and you heave a sigh of relief when you notice Ray deflates into herself, relieved that she didn’t completely lose you. You’ve always knew that Ray has a soft spot for you and the members, she just never really knows how to express it. Realising maybe that’s why Ray finds confort in Sunghoon and vice versa. They see themselves in each other and no one can understand Ray better than the man who fought 1 vs 6 with his own members. You smile to yourself when you catch him smiling solemnly at the girl, proud of how far she’s come.

"Whose idea was this?" You point to the gigantic balloon-spelled "Sorry," and they all collectively point toward Aejeong, who scrunches her nose.

"I hate all of you."

"We love you too, AJ," Ray laughs, throwing an arm around Aejeong, who looks like she's about to cry.

"I mean it, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. I’m not even going to give you any excuses, I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." You exchange glances with each and every one of your members, knowing deep down that no matter what happens, you’d go to hell and back with them over and over again.

"AJ, how can I forgive you when I never blamed you for anything in the first place?" You pull her into a hug, and the rest of the girls slowly join in, surrounding you with the love and affection that you had missed over the past few days.

“How did this happen?” You pull away, looking back and forth between Ray and Aejeong, their arms tightly wrapped around each other. “We kissed and made up. What about it?" Aejeong playfully pecks Ray's cheek, causing the later to pull away with a jerk.

"Ayo, back up," Sunghoon appears behind Ray, protectively pulling her away from Aejeong. His own members coo at him from the back, finding his protective gesture adorable.

The room erupts in laughter and playful banter as Sunghoon and Ray exchange teasing glances. "Oh, look who's getting all protective now," Jake teases, nudging Sunghoon's shoulder.

Sunghoon tries to maintain a serious expression but fails as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Someone's got to keep this girl in line," he says, giving Ray a mock stern look.

"Hey, I can handle myself just fine," Ray retorts, but her playful tone gives away her amusement. She looks at Sunghoon with a fond smile, appreciating his protective nature.

The members continue to tease Sunghoon and Ray, adding to the lighthearted atmosphere in the room. You can't help but smile as you witness the playful interaction. Seeing your members and ENHYPEN getting along again brings you a sense of relief and happiness.

It's evident that the tension and misunderstandings have been resolved, and now the focus is on rebuilding their bond and enjoying each other's company. Amidst the chaos, you lock eyes with Heeseung who offers you a reassuring smile of his own.

Heeseung's presence in your life is a constant reminder of the importance of empathy, forgiveness, and growth. That no matter how chaotic your surroundings are, even in the middle of the most busiest street, that you’d still somehow find your way to him.

Having taught you that mistakes are opportunities for learning and that unity and understanding can mend even the deepest wounds. With Heeseung by your side, you felt supported and ready to face any challenges that lay ahead, whatever they may be…

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: stayc girls, it’s going down(2) btw i apologise for the increase in written chapters. istg i’m trying to avoid writing them but it’s so difficult 🥲

taglist! open. @softiehee @annoyingbitch83 @hoon0logy @aernx @lhees01 @flower0930 @harperwasstaken1 @haechansbbg @renjunoya @heeheesang @spilled-coffee-cup @jwnghyuns @ocyeanicc @neozon3nha @pshchives @casualzo @captivq @suvgs @iea-tsand @yohanabanana @wonyoungsvirus @shinsou-rii

[messier51]

In reference to your tags on the food that makes life worth living post - what are chicken squares???

They're kind of like chicken salad sandwiches but wrapped up and baked in crescent roll dough.

They are very delicious.

[image description: four baked chicken squares still on the pan. they aren't very square but the crescent roll dough is nicely browned and they're covered in browned stuffing bits]

At the risk of sounding like a food blogger, these are the food that I'd ask for when given a choice for my birthday. These are kind of an ultimate comfort food nostalgia thing for me. I use an altered version of my grandma's recipe (I measure with my heart, I am so sorry gramma but it turns out just fine this way, and no extra mushrooms) which is below vvvv. There IS a recipe online, on the Official Pillsbury Website (https://www.pillsbury.com/recipes/savory-crescent-chicken-squares/) from one of their contests. The name on the recipe is not my grandma, but the location is not far from where she lived. My grandma's recipe is better (obviously) but they're very similar and the version at the link is half the size if you want to try it but don't want to do math or something.

Part of the reason for making the full 8-sandwich version from my grandma's recipe is that it uses a full modern 8oz package of cream cheese (instead of the 3oz version that used to be common I guess?), and then you do not put the other half back in your fridge and forget about it until it gets moldy. If that's too much food, the chicken squares freeze really well! Just bake them for slightly shorter (I do it about 20 minutes) and then stick them in a freezer bag in the freezer until you want to eat them. They just need to be re-baked!

Chicken Squares Recipe (from aj's grandma)

Filling:

1 8oz package of softened cream cheese

1/2 stick butter (that's 1/4 cup) (recipe says "or margarine" lol) melted (you use the other half of it below)

4 cups cooked cubed chicken (this can be approximate. One rotisserie chicken or so. Leftover turkey works great! Canned chicken would probably be good too. My sister does hers with mushrooms for vegetarian reasons but I have no clue how to do that. You can adjust this though! It's super forgiving.)

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

4 Tbsp milk (that's 1/4 cup)

4 Tbsp lemon juice

3 Tbsp chopped chives or onion. (Or like, as much as you want. If you like onion, more onion is really good in this. I have used half a large onion, a whole bundle of green onions, whatever looks good. 3 Tbsp is not enough imo, but if you're not into onions, then maybe ignore me)

2 8oz cans of refrigerated crescent rolls.

Sauce:

1 can chicken broth

2 cans cream of mushroom and/or cream of chicken soup

1 pint cream, half and half, or milk

sauteed fresh or canned mushrooms

Topping:

Pepperidge Farm Herb Seasoned Dressing (not the cubed kind) (you can use whatever breadcrumbs you have but the seasonings are really good! Sage, thyme, rosemary, poultry seasonings, whatever.)

The other half of your stick of butter

Instructions:

Cream the cream cheese (a stand mixer is helpful for this) and beat in 1/2 stick of melted butter. Beat until smooth.

Add chicken, onion, salt, pepper, milk, lemon juice. (Order doesn't really matter.) Mix well.

Separate 1 package of crescent dough into 4 rectangles. Firmly press perforations to seal 2 triangles together. Pat out dough to make thinner and larger (make it sorta square if you cant). (See alternate options below*)

Place about 1/2 cup filling into the center of each dough rectangle. Pull the 4 corners to the center. Twist slightly and pinch together, and pinch the sides that came together to seal. (It's totally ok if they're not perfect. They filling isn't gonna go anywhere.)

[4 unbaked chicken squares on a cookie sheet with a silicone baking mat. Three of them are sealed and kind of lumpy, the fourth is still laying out as a square-ish shape of dough with a scoop of filling in the middle. It's got a lot of green onions in it.]

Repeat with your second roll of rolls.

Melt other 1/2 stick of butter in a shallow bowl or pie plate and fill a 2nd shallow bowl with the stuffing/dressing/herbed seasoned bread crumbs.

Set out a cookie pan (I like to line them with parchment paper but it's fine if you don't, they won't stick).

Carefully lift one sandwich packet. Dip both sides(!) in butter and then in the stuffing. Place on the cookie sheet. (Sometimes I wear gloves for this step, your fingers WILL get gooey. You want the bread crumbs sticking out all over, it'll be delicious.)

Repeat for the rest of them.

[four unbaked chicken squares coated in butter and stuffing bread crumbs on a cookie sheet, ready to go into the oven]

Bake at 350°F for 20-25 minutes (or at 375 for about half an hour if you live on top of a mountain like me). They should be golden brown when they're done (see photos at top and bottom of the post).

You can partially bake and freeze or refrigerate for later!

Prepare sauce:

(I'm going to be honest I don't bother. Sometimes I make a can of cream of mushroom soup in the microwave and pour it on top. It's good! But it's way too much for just a me, and it doesn't freeze as well.)

Sauté mushrooms in about 1/4 cup of butter (sorry that's another half stick of butter, that wasn't in the list above)

Heat chicken broth and cans of soup.

Mix in mushrooms

Simmer until thick and bubbly. Reduce heat and add cream right before use. DO NOT boil after adding cream.

To serve, ladle mushroom sauce over each chicken square on plate.

[a baked chicken square in a shallow bowl swimming in cream of mushroom soup]

*Alternatives to trying to make squares out of crescent dough:

Supposedly it works with dinner roll dough too but I don't remember ever doing that.

Buy the sheets of crescent dough, which makes it a little less likely to split along the diagonal where you tried to smoosh them together.

Make little roll ups! Spoon filling onto large side of the crescent roll triangle and roll up just like you would if you were making it without filling (this is also really good with jam or nutella js). You can still dip them in the butter and dressing, they turn out great! You get a bigger bread to filling ratio, so you might need more rolls for the same amount of filling. Bake time is a little shorter though, keep an eye on them. They're cute though!

[three chicken roll ups(?) on a plate]

[baked chicken squares and roll ups on parchment paper-covered cookie sheets sitting on the stove]

So, go forth and eat chicken squares. I've got some in my freezer that I made after thanksgiving with my leftover turkey, I'm going to eat some on Monday for my birthday meal, as is traditional.

[beefrobeefcal]

Tah-tah 2023!

I can be a sentimental beef sometimes, but I will try to keep that to a minimum for brevity’s sake.

When I joined this community as the Beefro you know, I was struck by how quickly people were willing to interact and engage - randomly appearing in my inbox and dm’s. Some of the people I’ve met on here have become such dear friends to me over the past six months that I consider them just as important as the ones I have face-to-face interactions with. I’ve never been apart of an online community in this way before and I’m thankful.

I'm thankful for not only the people I've met, but for Pedro bringing us together. And for the absolutory depraved smut he has inspired us to expel and devour. Seriously. I have never felt so... so... full of yearning for a fictional character, enough so to propel me into writing an AU about him in a Boston.

All jokes aside, though, I am even more thankful for the hard work you have put into the pieces of fiction that deserve far more recognition that this hellsite can muster. I have have laughed, cried, screamed, wailed, felt joy and sorrow, felt fulfilled and empty from the fics I have read this year, and I cannot wait to see what you have for 2024.

I know that for many, 2023 threw lemons the size of blue whales at you and I’m thankful that you’re here and still sharing with us! I’m grateful for your vulnerability and to see that we are not alone in our hurt. I think this year, I’ve learned that ‘Misery loves company’ is not about finding others to fester with; it’s about getting through with the support of your mutual strugglers. I love this take. And I love you.

Another lesson I have learned is to not be competitive. I have a fantastic core community here in the Bistro and #beefro-is-blessed. But that doesn’t stop the little nagging voice that says ‘you’ll never have that many followers’ or ‘you’re too niche for your fics to get any more interactions’ when I see the engagement other writers get. I’m learning to be ignorant to that voice because I write for me. And for you (if you want it. If not, I love you anyway). And everyone in this community deserves to be celebrated for their contributions and achievements, no matter how big or small.

I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but you’ve never been anything but kind. This reformed emo loner never knew this could be a thing and I don’t take this for granted. My resolution for 2024 is to be more present and supportive of the community that reminded me how much I love storytelling. And also, to go to space…

Oh look at me going on… brevity’s sake indeed.

Beefro👌🥩💜

PS: A gigantic, huge, beautiful, smudgy, wet kiss to each of you. And a special thanks to my repeat offenders: @theywhowriteandknowthings @neverwheremoonchild @thehalflifeofloveisforever @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @noxturnalpascal @gasolinerainbowpuddles @sheepdogchick3 @wintrwinchestr @deathsholywaterr @clawdee @pedroshotwifey @gwendibleywrites @thehandalorian @vabeachazn @fullldash @harriedandharassed @nerdieforpedro @romana-after-dark @umnitsa @rebel-held @yahtiwakitakos @pop-sugar102 @sp00kymulderr @covetyou @yorksgirl @pr0ximamidnight @blackmetalamazon @chute-etoiles @josephquinnswhore @ghoulettesinspace @suzdin @silkniche @bonezone44 @fhatbhabie @emilyjustemily @famoushoneybee @maryrhodalouandted @missredherring @iamasaddie @lost-in-relative-dimensions @quinnnfabrgay ... and many, many more! (if i missed, you, send me a dm and I'll atone for my sins)

[gaybananabread]

okey okey since we got tadashi can we also se Hiroshima headcanons

omg i would love to see them especially made by you

have a grate day/ night

🫶🫶🫶

💻⚡️Hiro Hamada Tkl Headcanons🕹🤖

~AN: Awww thank you! I’m gonna assume that auto-correct happened and you meant Hiro. I've been rewatching the series, and a lot of people point out his age and size. Poor boy looks so uncomfy when they do! Incorportaeted that a bit cuz I can- These reqs are so fun to do! I get to ramble without all the stress of a fic! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) Anyhow, thank you for requesting!~

General:

Hiro feels like he’s looked down on by others for his age/younger appearance.

For that reason, he strayed away from tickling in public and around his friends.

Fortunately for his mental health, he’s got a whole gang of buddies who helped him work through that backwards thinking (see lee section). 

Baymax may or may not have downloaded a new program specifically for tickle cheer-ups/therapy. Definitely not prompted by said friends…

Slowly, they got through to him. Turns out, once he got past the anxieties and irrational embarrassment, it’s actually kinda fun for him. Only with certain people, though, for both giving and receiving.

He gives lee vibes, so maybe a lee-leaning switch? Ler moods happen too, but they take time.

Lee:

At first, it took major getting used to. It was normally okay with Tadashi; he always meant well, and Hiro trusted him more than anyone. 

After he was gone, the boy really only trusted Aunt Cass. Even then, only light pokes or quick squeezes were allowed before he started thinking too much.

Once his friends helped him move past all the bad thoughts, he was much more open to the touch around them. In moderation, of course, but it was a start.

His worst spots are his knees and ribs. Surprisingly enough, he melts into bubbly, airy giggles when they go for his belly.

Super squeaky, bright giggles in general. When he really gets going, his laugh is loud and pitchy, full of little squeals and voice cracks. So, in other words, incredibly adorable-

His favorite lers are Honey Lemon, Wasabi, Go-Go, and of course Baymax. He’s obviously comfortable with Cass tickling him, but it’s sort of like being really vulnerable around your parents. Great sometimes, but not always the ideal situation.

Honey is just really sweet in general, always asking if he’s comfortable or in need of a break. Super nice about everything, and only goes as far as he asks. It can be really flustering, but he knows she means well. She smiles nearly as much as he does; it’s refreshing.

Wasabi is normally super selective about his touch, but if he’s in the right mood, he’ll tease Hiro all day. Typically super gentle; tickle hugs are generously given. Super methodical, makes little notes, out loud, about his spots and reactions.

Go-Go doesn’t tickle him often, but when she does…eugh boi. If it’s a really good day, and he’s in a massive lee mood, he’ll go to her for help. She’s a lot rougher than the others, unless he asks her not to be. Goes for his ribs almost immediately. She’ll never admit it, but she likes hearing his awkward laugh.

Baymax will tickle Hiro with some of the ~special features~ Tadashi installed. He can extend small little quill-tip like objects from his fingers. He's very gentle, only tickling Hiro lightly to cheer him up and get him used to feeling confident in his likes again. If needed/requested, though, he can definitely get full-on belly laughter from him.

He’s definitely a squirmer, no matter who’s getting him. Wiggles around and flails like a fish on a hook.

Ler:

Once he realizes most of his friends love the touch, Hiro starts getting ler moods.. 

The only one he ever really tickles is Honey Lemon. She gets lee moods pretty often, and will drop subtle hints to see if Hiro’s in the right mood.

He’s kinda shy until he gets in the groove of things. After that, he gets all snarky and smug; it’s all in the name of fun, though.

“This spot must be pretty bad if you’re laughing that hard~” “I’m barely touching you!” “Wow, that looks like it really tickles. Think I’ll stay here a while~”

All that confidence immediately dies when they ask for more or compliment him. He absolutely cannot handle what he dishes out.

Will blush as bright as the sun at a simple tease from his lee. We all know how Honey loves complimenting people. A few simple, sweet praises through her giggles, and he’s redder than she is!

She absolutely lets him tickle her.

While he would try, we all know the stringbean wouldn’t be able to actually pin any of his friends without help from his suit. He’s gotten stronger from hero work, but so have they.

The others don’t really ask him much, except for maybe Fred every blue moon. He’d normally bug Go-Go, but Hiro’s his backup if she isn’t available. 

I’d say he’s in between a rough and soft ler. Likes to poke and gently scribble, but he can and will dig in if the situation calls for it (or if he just feels like being a meanie). 

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 10,219

Rating: M - language, mature content, alcohol consmption ... nothing too out of the ordinary for the TF universe though.

Summary: Meeting Frankie to discuss booking tours with him should be a simple, quick thing.... right?

But nothing goes according to plan with him, and it turns out that his friends are not shy about intervening.

Author’s note:

Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter of this story! I'm really excited that all of you seem to be enjoying this version of Frankie so far, and I hope that you continue to do so the further along we get into it.

If you ever want to talk about this - or any of my work - my inbox is always open. Enjoy.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

You felt at ease the moment you walked into the bar. 

It stunned you - how homey the place felt, even though you’d never been there before. At first glance, it was a typical sports bar - large TVs mounted everywhere, framed pictures and posters on the walls, plush, comfortable booths and an assortment of tables and chairs arranged around an ornate, polished wood bar. But upon closer inspection, you saw that the posters weren’t all sports-themed, though some of them were. 

Instead, they were of people - some in varying military uniforms, others of families, more of groups of what you assumed were friends. There were pictures of people with pets and even some of landscapes - beaches and palm trees along with mountainous and tropical-looking locations. 

It was a hodgepodge of things, but it made the place feel welcoming and not too unapproachable as someone that hadn’t been in before. A place I’d want to spend time. As you made your way over to the bar, you glanced around to see who else was in the large room. 

It wasn’t full, but a number of the tables and barstools were filled, the conversation at a decent, manageable level. This is not what I expected. At all. You chose one of the open barstools with seats available on either side and set your bag down on the bartop, glancing around. I don’t see him, so that means I got here first. 

You weren’t quite second guessing yourself, but if you’d said you weren’t apprehensive about meeting Frankie, you would have been lying. “Hey there. What can I get you?” 

A voice pulled you from your thoughts and when you looked up, you were met with bright blue eyes and slicked back blonde hair, the man behind the bar’s grin wide. Cute. “Hi. I’m waiting for someone, so maybe just a water and a food menu right now, if you’ve got one?” 

“Sure.” He bent down and then set a menu in front of you, winking. “Sunday Happy Hour goes til 7, and I definitely recommend the pickles.” He turned away and grabbed a glass, spinning back to face you while he began to fill it with ice. “I’m Benny, by the way, and I own this place. So if you need anything, you know where to find me.” The Benny? Interesting. 

Benny slid the glass and a coaster toward you, reaching for the garnish dish with one hand and deftly twisting a lemon onto the rim, just next to the straw. Thanking him, you took a sip and flipped the menu open, looking through the pages. 

Part of you was just keeping yourself busy until Frankie arrived, and another part of you was working - taking stock of things in case you decided to include the bar in your next release. Everything sounds good. Smiling as you trailed your finger down the page and read the options, you lingered on some of the names, wondering if they had anything to do with inside jokes. Maybe I’ll ask. 

“See anything you want?” Benny was back, leaning against the bar and eyeing you. “Or do you have any questions?” 

“I’d eat 90% of the menu, to be honest.” Wrinkling your nose, you stared at him. “But I still think I’m going to wait to order.” 

“Are they running late? Can I at least get you something to snack on?” He seemed genuinely concerned, but you wondered if it was partially an act - the man working someone he’d never seen before in order to try and get a better tip. Either way, it was nice to be out and talking to someone in a relaxed setting, and so you took advantage of it. 

“Chips would be great, Benny. And I’m not sure.” Turning your head to look toward the door, you shrugged. “I’m actually meeting your friend Frankie here tonight. I’m in town for work and need to book some time in his helicopter, so -”

“You’re waiting for ‘Fish?” Benny’s eyes widened in surprise, but his smile grew, too. “Damn, I was not expecting that.” Why? Why’s that such a surprise? “How the hell’d you -”

“Stop grilling the poor woman, Benjamin.” Sucking in a breath at the sound of his voice, you turned toward it, heart pounding. “You’re going to scare her off before I get her up in the air.” There’s no chance of that whatsoever.

He was even better looking in person - the man’s hair longer than in the pictures you’d seen and curling over his ears, though most of it was hidden with a well-worn baseball cap. He looked at you briefly and grinned, giving you a quick wink before his eyes slid back to Benny. How is it possible that he looks like that? Wow. “Aw, come on. I was just makin’ conversation.” 

“I met Tom this afternoon, too.” You looked at the blonde, too, shrugging. “I’m looking for a place to rent because I’m here writing a tourism book, and he recommended Frankie to me. He also recommended this place, in kind of an offhand way, but Frankie suggested we meet here because he was coming anyway.” You sipped your water again, glancing over at the man who’d taken a seat next to you, fingers laced together and his hands resting on the bar. “An interesting series of events, but … here we are.” His profile is … 

Both men laughed at that, and hearing Frankie’s laugh in person was even better than over the phone - as was the way the corners of his eyes crinkled while he laughed, his head tilted back slightly. Looking is fine. You can look at him all you want. “You want your usual, ‘Fish?” 

Frankie agreed and then Benny turned back to you, one eyebrow cocked. “Those chips for now, please.” You pointed at the menu, tapping your finger on one of the mixed drink specialties. “And one of these, too.” Nodding in agreement, the man moved away from where the two of you sat, typing your order in. That left you alone with Frankie, and after taking a breath to steady yourself, you spun on your seat to face him, holding your hand out. “Hi. Nice to meet you.” 

He took your hand, his grip firm and his palm warm, the man’s eyes locked with yours. “I’m glad you decided to come. Francisco Morales, but you can call me Frankie.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go and then dropped his back onto the bartop, drumming his fingers against the wood as his smile grew. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“I have.” Laughing in return, you rolled your eyes and held one hand up as you shrugged. “But it’s been productive. I’ve only been here for like 36 hours and a couple things have fallen into place, so I can’t complain.” 

Frankie kept smiling, both eyes closing briefly. “Well as soon as Benny over there gets his shit together and gives us our drinks, we’ll go and sit at a table so you can tell me what it is you want from me. How’s that sound?” It was your turn to grin at him as you nodded, but before you could say anything, Benny was back and pushing two glasses toward you and Frankie. 

“You do realize I can hear you?” He glared at Frankie, the expression making him look much younger than you assumed him to be. “And that you shouldn’t ever fuck with the people that make your food and drinks, right?” 

Frankie laughed again, his fingers closing around the condensation-covered glass. “Oh, I know you can hear me loud and clear. But you know that I don’t give a -” 

“Don’t fall for it.” Benny bent his elbow, balancing his weight on the top of the bar and leaning forward to look at you. “The shit I could tell you about this one would make your head spin.” His lips twitched as he held back a grin of his own, so you wrinkled your nose, leaning in closer to him. Why not? They’re having fun, there’s no reason I shouldn’t, too. 

“I won’t, I swear.” Lowering your voice into a stage whisper, you glanced over at Frankie and then met Benny’s eyes. “I’m just going to use him for his piloting skills…. And maybe see if he’s willing to pay for this drink.” 

Benny’s laughter erupted from his lips, and without pause, he dropped his hand atop yours and squeezed once. “You won’t even need him to do that. Your first drink’s on me as a welcome to Tampa… and because you’re going to need it to sit through a full conversation with him.” 

You thanked him through a laugh, and then Benny turned back to talk to another customer, leaving you and Frankie to yourselves. “C’mon. There’s a booth open.” He sipped his beer, licking his lips to clear the foam from them. “Let’s get away from this damn bar and the more irritating Miller brother.” 

“Heard that, you jackass.” Benny grumbled the words as he passed, but you were quick to agree, you and Frankie gathering your things and heading for a booth in the corner. He slid in across from you, and once you were both settled, he groaned, closing his eyes. 

“I am an asshole.” What? “Like Benny said, welcome to Tampa.” Holding the glass out, he waited until you raised yours, too, the man tilting it forward to clink the rims against each other. “Cheers to you and good luck with the writing.” 

“Thank you, Frankie.” You kept your eyes on him as you finally sipped the drink  - an Andean Sunrise - letting the tartness coat your tongue. “Damn, that’s good.” 

“It is. Can’t drink too many of ‘em, because the OJ is hard on my stomach, but every now and then I’ll order one.” He took another drink, leaning back in the booth and reaching up to resituate the hat on his head. Your eyes were drawn to the movement, watching the flex of his bicep beneath the thin material of the longsleeve shirt he wore, but Frankie didn’t let you stare for long. “So why don’t you tell me more about what you’re doing here and how I can help you?” 

He’s getting right to it. Either that means he’s efficient or he’s trying to hustle me out of here. You hoped it was the first - you were enjoying the time you spent with Frankie in the bar. More people had come in while you waited and while you ordered, but it still wasn’t overwhelmingly busy - just homey. 

Taking another sip, you tried to decide where you wanted to begin your explanation. Well, I’m here to investigate these attacks and figure out whether or not a werewolf is responsible for them so I can find and kill it. “I’ve got a mildly successful online presence in the travel and tourism sphere, and I’m looking to write a book that focuses on this area - and a couple others in the southern states that aren’t as popular as places like New Orleans or Miami or Orlando.”  Raising and lowering your shoulders in a shrug, you continued. “A helicopter tour makes sense so I can see the layout of things, you know? The coast. The city. Inland - over the parks and waterways and all that.”

“So you’d need a couple personalized flight plans.” He was watching you intently, head cocked to one side. “The coast and city are ones I offer a few different versions of depending on length, but inland?” He rubbed the palm of one hand against his chin, eyes narrowed. “Which parts?”

“Places where there’s stuff to see and do, I guess?” Places where bodies have been found or might be found in the future. Places where a wolf could hide. “Camping? Those boat tours where I have no idea how people don’t get eaten by alligators every single day? Taking pictures from above will give my readers an idea of how big these places are, and help to drive home the point that Florida isn’t just beaches and flashy cities and overpriced amusement parks.” 

He watched you closely while you spoke, the man’s gaze intense - but not intimidating. He was listening to what you were saying, nodding slowly along with each new suggestion you made. “I’d have to file different flight plans, make sure I’m allowed to fly over those places. Might take some time to get approved, but I can look into it.” He sipped his beer again. “Chips are coming.” He gestured with his chin. “Everything else, too.” 

Moments later, a waitress dropped off a tray of food - your basket of fresh sliced and fried chips, a platter of boneless wings and fries for Frankie and what looked like a sampler platter of different appetizers for you to share. “Enjoy, you two.” She grinned at Frankie and then winked, her eyes lingering on him before she turned away. I’m not surprised, but that was still pretty bold. 

“Boneless wings?” Biting your lip, you pointed with one finger. “You look like an actual wing guy to me.”

“You got me.” He picked up one of the pieces of chicken, popping it into his mouth and chewing before he continued. “I usually get regular wings. They taste better, but they’re messy. And despite his teasing, it seems like Benny’s trying to keep me from embarrassing myself in front of you.” This is a work meeting though. Embarrassing himself? What? “Which makes sense, because who’s gonna want to get into a helicopter with some guy that can’t eat a wing without smearing sauce all over his face?”

“Hmm.” You chewed on a chip, brows knit in thought. “I’d actually be more concerned about a man that didn’t get messy eating wings.” Gesturing to the basket, you shrugged, deciding to test the waters. “I don’t trust anyone afraid to get their face and fingers a little… saucy.” That earned you another laugh, though you also caught his slight intake of breath beforehand. Ok, so that one landed. Frankie ate another wing before he pointed at them and then at you, raising a brow because his mouth was too full to speak. “I’m good, thank you. Maybe next time.” You wanted one - they looked delicious - but instead opted to reach for the plate of appetizers, taking something from there at random. “We can finish the work talk once we’re done eating, if you want.”

“Sure.” He picked up a mozzarella stick, biting into it and giving you something else to watch as the cheese stretched between the bitten end and his lips. “What else do you want to talk about?” 

If it had been a date, you would have asked him about himself. You would have told him about yourself - not the hunter parts, but the rest of it. You would have steered the conversation away from the helicopter and toward getting to know the man as a person and not by his profession. But it’s not a date, and I’m here for a reason, so… “Can you tell me a little more about this place and you and your friends? Based on the last half hour, I’ll definitely include it in my book, so -”

“On the record or off?” He wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth with one finger, still staring. “Because if Benny thinks he’s got stories about me, I’ve definitely got stuff I can tell you that he’s got no idea about.” 

It took you by surprise - Frankie was almost blatantly hitting on you, challenging you to ask him to tell you more than would have been appropriate for an interview. Hmm. Well then… 

“Off. Tom said that you guys were all military buddies, so I’m assuming that’s how you met, but how do you go from that to owning a bar like this or having your own tour company? None of you are that old, so you can’t have been out for too long.”

“Tom’s the oldest. He’s been out the longest. Pope got medically discharged a little while after him, because of his neck and knees.” Frankie sighed. “Will and me, we got out at the same time. Benny was about a year after us, and we all tried to get used to civilian life again.”  

“They decided to open a bar?” You looked around, eyeing your surroundings. “You can definitely see the influence here, so it seems like it worked well.” 

“Not right away. We all kind of drifted. Pope went to South America to see what he could do there. Tom started sellin’ houses. Will … did some motivational speaking, and I starting doing helo tours. Benny actually…” Frankie laughed softly, releasing a long breath. “He started doing fights, like… cage fights? MMA?” Your eyes went back to the blonde man behind the bar and for the first time, you noticed his build. A fighter makes sense. Bet he was pretty good at it. “But that didn’t last, and once we were all together again, and had some … options, they picked this one.” 

You wondered what he meant by options, but decided not to question it - at least right then. “How long ago did this place open? It looks new.” 

“Two and a half years.” He gestured around and then leaned in, resting both elbows on the table. “It’s been a learning experience for ‘em. Luckily, Will’s wife has a lot of good ideas and is real good with accounting. She’s been a damn godsend for them. We all help out when we can, too. I’m pretty handy when it comes to maintenance, and Pope… well, Pope can fill a room with his personality.”

“And Tom?” You leaned in, too, eyeing him. “What’s his part in this?”

“Well he got you here, didn’t he?” Frankie winked, settling back against the booth’s cushioned back. “He recommends this place to people that are moving to the area, or are looking to move here, and even though we don’t know many of them actually show up…” Frankie rubbed his hands together. “One’s better than none.” 

It was an interesting way to categorize Tom’s involvement in the bar, and for the first time you wondered if he was going to show up that night since Frankie was supposed to meet his friends. It would make sense. “Tom didn’t get me here tonight, you did.” You hummed, leaning back and getting comfortable without looking away. “But if he comes tonight, I’ll tell him that it was thanks to his recommendation if you want.” 

“No.” Frankie’s voice dropped with the single word, the man unblinking as he stared at you. “Tom had nothing to do with this.” Your breathing quickened, fingers curling toward your palms. He’s serious. And he’s still flirting with me, there’s no doubt about it.  “So you just got to Florida, hmm?” You nodded at his question, fingers flexing in your lap. “Where were you before you were here?” 

“Louisiana. I was in the Lake Charles area, but I spent some time in Baton Rouge, too. Thought about stopping in Tallahassee, but something about Tampa just …” Shrugging, you pressed your lips together. There were more bodies here. “Figured it was the right place to come.” 

“Yeah?” Frankie took the final sip of his beer, still watching you. “Well I hope you’re right about that. Florida’s… a lot, but there’s some good parts, too.” 

“Like what?” You laughed, leaning forward and resting your elbow on the table before you settled your chin in your hand. “All I’ve seen is more of the same - neighborhoods and highways and stores and -”

“You haven’t been to the beach yet.” He tilted his head to the side, shaking it slowly. “You haven’t seen the way the cypress and mangrove trees look when the light’s hittin’ ‘em just right.” He blinked, taking a deep breath. “You haven’t spent long enough with a handful of retired Delta Force assholes to know what a good time is.” 

The words hung between you for long seconds, and even though him being so bold surprised you, it didn’t feel forced or unwarranted. Delta Force? Aren’t those guys supposed to be like … elite?

The truth was that you were enjoying Frankie’s company. You were enjoying how casual the meeting seemed, even though you’d discussed what you needed from him, and had fully planned on circling back around to finish that conversation. “I’ve seen the Gulf of Mexico, Frankie.” You shrugged. “And I’ve seen swamps in the sunlight.” But I need to see more of them if I’m going to solve this. “You’re right, though. I’ve never spent time around a group like that. Got any idea where I can find one?” Is that an invitation? 

You tried to keep an even expression and were successful for the most part - your only tell a slight upward pull of one side of your mouth. Frankie’s eyes glittered in the muted fluorescent lighting, and when he leaned in closer, you did too, drawing in a breath and waiting. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.” He bit down on his lower lip, his eyes dropping from yours and then slowly rising as he watched you. “I -”

“You two look like you could use another round.” Another man’s voice interrupted the moment, both of you turning to look at where a third man - another blonde, though he had much shorter hair than Benny, along with a full beard. Is this Will? “I’m Ironhead.” He reached out a hand to shake yours, his smile wide. “I own this place with my idiot brother.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Will’s large hand closed around yours, the man’s grip solid. “You’ve got a nice bar. I’m glad it was suggested to me.” 

“Benny tells me Tom brought it up to you?” Will’s gaze flicked between you and Frankie before it settled back on you. “And here you are, so maybe him suggesting it works better than we thought it would.” It was your turn to look at Frankie then, and in a split second, you decided to see whether or not Frankie would continue the banter between you if you put the ball back in his court. 

“Tom did tell me to check this place out while we were looking at an apartment here, but it was Frankie that actually invited me tonight.” You met Will’s eyes then, staring up at him. “So it’s up to him if I stick around for a second drink, or if we finish talking about flight plans and I head back to my -”

“We’ll take another round, Will.” Frankie tapped the table, saying your name. “You want the same thing, or do you want to try something else?” He was smiling at you, the dimple in his cheek deep, and for the first time, the thought that you were in over your head crossed your mind. But we’re just having a couple drinks and some food. And he’s… 

Frankie might have been flirting, but it didn’t feel like an act - and that almost made it more dangerous. 

If he was like that with you, someone he barely knew, you were worried that as the two of you worked together - and spent more time together - the flirting would escalate, and you’d have to make a decision. “Surprise me.” Grinning, you held a hand out toward will. “No tequila, and no gin. I need to drive back to my hotel, and since all I’ve eaten are snacks, I shouldn’t … I have to be responsible.” 

“Well I’m not sure if ‘Fish told you, but one of the things we offer here is a dedicated designated driver.” Will put a hand on his hip, still watching you. “We don’t make you take a breathalyzer or anything, but we’ve got a couple people we trust that are on call to make sure everyone gets home safe.” That was something that you’d never heard of before; some bars had contracts with local cab companies, but multiple safe drivers only a phone call away? It was unheard of. “So I’ll get you another drink without either of those things, but if you do end up needin’ a way home, you’ve got one.” 

“Thank you.” You spoke quietly, still somewhat surprised at the offering - but you didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Will walked away from the table, heading back toward his brother. You watched him go and then finally turned your attention back to Frankie, mouth open to speak. “I wasn’t -” Oh. 

He’d removed his hat, running the fingers of one hand through his curls, and you couldn’t look away. “Hmm?” Frankie scratched the side of his head and then shifted his shoulders. “What were you saying?” 

It took you a second to collect your thoughts - and you were certain that he noticed. Fuck it. What does it matter? “I wasn’t prepared for everyone to be so attractive, Frankie.” 

“Wait ‘til you meet Pope.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’re gonna love him.”

“Pope’s got a girlfriend.” Spinning your straw through the few remaining ice cubes in your glass, you wrinkled your nose. “And Will’s married, according to Tom.” 

“Benny’s single, though.” Frankie settled back into the seat, his chin jutting out and toward the bar. “He’s a good guy.” He was flirting five seconds ago and now he’s trying to pawn me off on Benny? Or is he just … testing the water? “Youngest of all of us, and -” 

“Frankie.” You closed your eyes, thinking. Do not fuck up your access to a helicopter. “Still off the record, alright? This is just for my own personal … curiosity.” He looked surprised but nodded, waiting. “What’s your story? I don’t see a ring, but that doesn’t always mean …”

“I was engaged for about a year to a woman named Becca.” He swallowed, glancing up. “She was with me for most of the time I was enlisted and a little while after. We had … I have a daughter. Her name’s Carmen, and she’s three and a half.” You hadn’t expected that - or the level of honesty he was giving you, but you wouldn’t ever turn it down. “We split for good when Carmen was about a year old.” 

“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but to your surprise, Frankie laughed at you, tilting his head back as he continued to chuckle. “What?”

“I’m not. It’s better this way. They live pretty close and I see my daughter whenever I want, but me an’ Becca … it wasn’t right, especially after I was out for good.” He wanted to say more but the waitress - a new one - approached with your drinks then. The woman leaned over and set a beer down in front of Frankie, her low-cut top hiding very little. Subtle. 

When you looked at him, though, he was focused on you, the look in his eyes thoughtful. “And a guava mule for you.” She straightened up, setting the copper mug down near the edge of the table and then reaching into her apron to drop off a few napkins next to it without pulling her attention away from the man. “Benny also told me to tell you that Pope’s running late, so you’ve got more time before he gets here.” Frankie thanked her, the woman’s name leaving his lips in a soft murmur - which seemed to be more than enough to make her happy. Her smile reappeared as she stepped away from the table, color rising in her cheeks at the same time. 

“She likes you.” Reaching for the mug and curling your fingers around the cool metal, you raised it to take a sniff. Smells delicious. “And she’s not exactly hiding it. I should let her know this is a business meeting.” Even though it doesn’t feel like it. 

“She isn’t.” He picked up his beer, too, sighing. “She never has. But you don’t need to tell her a damn thing. I’d never date someone that worked here because I’m here so much and it would be weird.” 

“So you never mix business with pleasure.” Sipping your drink, you nodded. “Got it.” This is actually really good. I could drink like five of these. I wonder if he’ll respond to that.

“I didn’t say that.” Frankie ran his tongue along his lower lip, eyes still on you. “I just said I wouldn’t date her because she works here, and I’m not trying to fuck over Will and Benny if something didn’t go right. Also because I’m not interested in her.” Frankie swallowed, glancing down and then back up. “Hasn’t been an easy couple years for me, so I haven’t really … shit. You don’t need to know any of this, we’re supposed to be talking about flying, and I’m running my damn mouth about my shit life choices.”

“It’s ok.” You sipped again, savoring the taste of the fruit. “I need a pilot, Frankie. I’m not going to look somewhere else just because you got a little personal while we had a couple drinks.” It was blunt but it was the truth; as long as he could clear flight plans to your liking, you wanted him to show you Tampa from the sky. “And just so you know, I meant you, too, when I said everyone was attractive.”

Saying it was a risk, but the time you’d spent with him had put you at ease, and telling him felt right. Especially if he’s… since he’s testing the waters, maybe I should, too. “That so?” He leaned in, a small smile lifting his lips. “I’m interested in hearing more about that.” Oh, I’m sure you are. “What do you -”

“Who’s this, Catfish?” Frankie’s attention leapt from you to the back bar area, and you watched the expression on his face briefly change to one of disappointment before he was grinning again. Frankie picked up his beer and took a long drink, shaking his head as he set the bottle down. “I thought this was a guys night, and you’ve got a date?” 

“Not a date, Santiago.” He gestured to you with one hand, continuing. “I talked to her for the first time a few hours ago on the phone, and asked her to come here to talk about a job.” You were slightly confused - he was telling the other man the exact same thing he’d told you not to tell the waitress. I must have been wrong. I - “A date would be me asking her to hang out again sometime … or to see if she wanted to stay for a little while longer tonight with us.” 

“I see.” There was movement put of the corner of your eye, and moments later, a second man slid into the booth next to Frankie - and you got your first glimpse of Santiago. “I’m Santiago Garcia, but these assholes call me Pope.” He stuck his hand out and you took it, the man’s grip not quite as firm as Frankie’s had been. But he wasn’t lying, Pope is … wow. 

You let yourself stare, taking the man’s features in - salt and pepper hair, a well-kept beard, eyes that were darker than Frankie’s and sharp cheekbones that framed his nose. He’s beautiful. But after only a few seconds, your eyes drifted back to Frankie’s face, and you were surprised to see that he looked intrigued with your assessment of his friend, fingers wrapped loosely around the beer bottle. “Nice to meet you, Santiago.” 

“Call me Pope or Santi, please.” He rolled his eyes, tapping a fingertip on the table. “Santiago is what my mother or Yovanna call me when they’re pissed off.” You giggled at that, agreeing, and then you finally introduced yourself, giving him your name and telling him what you were doing in Florida. 

“And Tom recommended Frankie, and Frankie asked to meet me here, and…” Gesturing to the room around you, you shrugged. “Here I am.” But Pope’s here now, and so… it’s  time for me to go. You finished most of your drink and then pushed the cup off to the side, nodding. “But this is - like you just said - supposed to be about you guys, so I’m going to head out. You have my number, Frankie, so when you’ve got some ideas for flights and plans, just -”

“Leaving so soon?” Pope leaned back next to Frankie, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why? I just got here, and Will and Benny are going to get off work in a little while. It’s early.” 

“And I was serious before about seeing if you wanted to stay.” Frankie took a deep breath, eyes locked with yours. “No more talk about helicopters, just …” He smiled - a soft one - and spoke again. “Spending some time with a handful of retired Delta Force assholes.” 

It was a direct invitation - Frankie wanted you to stay and spend more time with him. No, with them. You corrected yourself immediately, not wanting to read too much into the situation. “I don’t want to intrude.” Closing your eyes, you sighed. “You don’t know me, so -” 

“You’re not intruding.” Pope stood then, shoving Frankie’s shoulder. “And if this one’s inviting you to stay, none of us are going to oppose it.” You didn’t know what that meant, but the comment made you wonder just how influential Frankie was within their group. “I’m going to go and get a beer, since the service in this place has apparently gone to shit - and I hope you’re still sitting here when I get back.” 

He winked as he stood, smoothly spinning away from the table and leaving you and Frankie alone again. “You can say no.” He shifted in his seat, leaning in and putting both hands flat on the  tabletop. “Tell me goodnight right now, and that’s fine - I’ll still look into what you want from me flight-wise. But -” One hand slid forward, almost like he wanted to take yours, though he stopped before he made contact. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

It wasn’t a line or a plea; it was just Frankie being honest and telling you exactly what he was thinking. He wants me to stay. He wants me to hang out with his friends. “I’ll stay.” You moved your hand then, fingertips making contact with Frankie’s. You watched his intake of breath, along with a slight widening of his eyes and bit back a smile at the impact you were having on him. I like this. “But only if I’m allowed to ask how all of you got your nicknames.” 

His laugh was loud in your ears as he flipped his hand over, fingers curling to squeeze yours against the center of his palm. “Oh, you’re definitely allowed.” He squeezed again, nodding. “I think you’ll like the answers, too.” 

Frankie excused himself to use the bathroom a few seconds later, leaving you alone at the table. You used the opportunity to check and see if there were messages from Alec - there weren’t - or any update from Tom - there wasn’t. That meant that you had nothing to do that night, and so staying out wouldn’t be a problem. But I can only have one more drink because i need to be able to drive back. 

“So you met Redfly.” Pope dropped back onto the bench across from you, sliding in and lifting a beer bottle to his lips. “He manage to sell you on a place?” 

“Sort of.” You spun the empty cup between your hands, shrugging. “I’m only going to be here for a few months, so I’m looking to rent. But yeah. I found a place I want to stay. He was … I’m glad that I found something quick.” 

“We were all surprised that Tom went into realty.” Will was back, too - taking a seat next to Pope, who scooted over further. Where’s Frankie supposed to sit? “Man’s great with people like us, but he’s not … the best with the general population.” Will sipped his drink - what looked like a whiskey on the rocks - and slowly shook his head. “I know we all had to get real jobs when we got home, but he … he doesn’t need it now, and…” 

You caught the look that Pope gave him - a quick, sharp one, but then the other man spoke up again, changing the subject. Interesting. I wonder what he… hmm. “So you’re writing a book? Just about Tampa, or -”

You launched into your story without pause, explaining what you were doing and what you were looking for, but halfway through, you heard a sigh from next to you and glanced over, seeing Frankie’s denim clad hip at eye level. “You’re in my seat pendejo. I was -”

“There’s an open seat right there.” Will held a hand out, indicating the space next to you. “Plenty of space.” In that moment, you realized that you liked Frankie’s friends - you liked that they were direct and had a sense of humor and that they weren’t worried about scaring you off by encouraging their friend. 

“Or you could pull up a chair.” Pope grinned, taking a long pull from his bottle. “Make it real awkward.” You snorted at that, catching Pope’s attention, but instead of replying - or going to get a chair - Frankie sighed and sat next to you, sliding in from the edge of the bench and toward where you were. 

“Where the fuck is Benny going to sit? Frankie grumbled, repositioning his shoulders against the upholstered seat back. “He’s sure as shit not going to squeeze in next to me, and -”

“Benny’s gonna sit wherever the fuck he wants to.” Another drink was placed in front of you - along with a second that was set down at the end of the table. “Because it’s his bar.” 

That got another laugh out of you, all four of you turning your attention to the blonde as he pulled a chair over and turned it around, dropping onto it and then leaning forward to prop his elbows up on the table edge. 

“Our bar, you mean.” Will spoke up, eyeing his brother over the rim of a glass. “And you’re not making a very good impression on someone that might decide to include it in a -”

“Oh, he’s fine.” You winked at Benny, the younger man mouthing the words ‘thank you’ at you and tilting the mouth of his beer bottle in your direction. “Thanks for the drink, Benny. Did you add it to my tab?”

“Nah, it’s on us tonight.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” You opened your mouth to protest, but then Frankie leaned over dropping his voice to speak to you in a whisper that you were certain everyone was meant to hear. 

“Don’t argue. Not worth it. And even if you don’t like it, please drink it, otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it.” You snorted at his words, turning your head to look at him - and got your first look at Frankie up close. 

There was a depth to his eyes that was more noticeable from only inches away. They were deep brown, sure, but you caught flecks of gold in them, too, brightened by the overhead lighting. Because he took his hat off. He gave you a half smile as your gaze rose and then dropped, locking with his a second time - and that’s when you caught the dilation of his pupils. You grinned, giving him a single nod and then looking back at your drink. This is great. He’s … wow.

“What’s this, Benny? What did you make me?” Changing the subject was your only option - otherwise, you would have stared at Frankie all night. You’d thought he was attractive before, but being so close to him and getting hit with the visual of his tousled curls while he was staring at you was almost too much. 

“Same thing you had when you first got here, but I put it into a different glass because I had to carry it across the room.” He licked his lips, shrugging. “Figured you wouldn’t mind.” You didn’t and told him as much, Benny giving you a relieved nod in return. “So, tell us more about your books.” 

You did just that, spending the next fifteen minutes repeating the story about what you were doing in Florida and what you needed. 

You even pulled your phone out to show them your website and give them a chance to scroll through it. They all had questions for you, except for Frankie, who’d already gotten the detailed introduction. He sat silently next to you, fingers curled loosely around his beer bottle and that thumb dragging back and forth over the label. 

“So I’ll be here researching and drafting for a few months, and then I’ll head back out to my aunt’s in Nevada to finish. While I’m out there, I’ll start posting to the social media pages as a lead in.” Moving your finger in a slow circle midair, you rolled your eyes. “It’s a pattern, but it works, and it builds hype, so…” 

“Whatever works, right?” Frankie nudged you with his elbow and then took a long drink. “You mentioned flying and going to the beach, but what else do you need? Maybe we can make some suggestions?” It seemed too easy - the man literally asking you to detail the other things you were looking for in the Tampa area - but you weren’t going to question it. 

“Well, bars and restaurants. Parks and shopping. Outdoor activities that would be good for different numbers of people.” Taking a drink, you looked at the other men one by one. I have to mention it. Now or never. “Kayaking or canoeing, maybe camping. Hiking or finding trails would be great, but I was looking online roday and I saw something about an increase in animal attacks this summer, so maybe that’s not …” Lips pressed together, you looked down. “I have no desire to get killed and eaten by an alligator, so maybe I should stick to the safe stuff.” 

“It is safe.” Will sighed, gesturing with the hand that held his drink. “As long as you’re not wading through the swamp in the middle of the night or trying to find your way alone, you’ll be fine.” Will I, though? 

“Well unluckily for me, I am solo here, so …” You laughed then, the sound quiet. “I’ll just go places during the day. It’s what I did in Louisiana, and that worked out alright.” 

“Benny, didn’t you know that guy … what was his name? Drew?” Frankie sipped his beer, cocking his head to the side. “Manny? I can’t remember. But he’s got that fan boat, right? Does tours?” 

“Shit, yeah. I forgot about that.” The younger man reached out, settling his hand on your forearm. “I’ll get ahold of him and find out what he’s got open. He does tours and it’s perfectly safe. He hasn’t lost anyone. Yet.” Benny raised both brows but when you only stared at him, he lowered his head, mumbling. “I thought it was funny.” 

“Hilarious.” Pope reached for one of your leftover chips, popping it into his mouth. “So you never said where you were looking for places to stay.” He frowned. “Downtown? Toward Orlando?” 

“No.” Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Tampa Heights, actually. I wanted to be pretty close to everything, and it was the best apartment I saw today. Hopefully I hear back.” 

“You’ll be pretty close to me, then.” Frankie looked over at you, his eyes wide in surprise. “I live in South Seminole.” Unless you were mistaken, the surprise was coupled with excitement, Frankie’s voice lifting in an almost hopeful note. 

“Tom mentioned you lived close, but not where.” Sucking an ice cube into your mouth, you tucked it beneath yout tongue to melt. “We’ll see what happens.” 

The seeds were planted - they knew more about you and seemed to have bought your cover story. And I have someone else asking about a swamp tour for me, so there’s another thing checked off my list. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have four allies in Tampa, either - even if it only meant that you could text or call them to ask questions every now and then. 

Part of you wanted to ask why Tom wasn’t there that night, but you also didn’t want to seem too interested in his whereabouts. So you let it go and instead became engrossed in a story that Pope was telling about Yovanna, which turned into Will bringing up his wife. You didn’t speak much, but you interjected occasionally, the conversation flowing between the five of you for a while before there was a lull. 

And it was during that lull that you realized that you and Frankie had closed the distance between you - your thighs pressed together on the bench seat, hands resting next to each other on the table. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything about it, instead turning his head to look at you. “Didn’t you say you had a question for us?” The tip of his tongue dragged over his lower lip while he waited, Pope speaking up to encourage you to ask whatever it was. 

“Ideally I’d have another drink right now, but since I’m driving, I can’t.” You swallowed the last of your watered-down beverage and then nodded. “Alright. So… I’m curious about the nicknames. It’s obviously a military thing, but … everyone’s got one aside from Benny, and I just -” I need to know. 

“Benny didn’t want one.” Will settled his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We tried to come up with one and nothing stuck, so he finally told us to stop.” He grinned. “And they call me Ironhead because I’m stubborn as shit. Once I’m committed to something, that’s it.” 

“Stubborn? Frustrating’s more like it.” Benny interrupted, pointing at Santiago. “And Pope over here … well, he’s always got an audience - mostly women - but uh, he doesn’t ever have to try too hard to convince anyone to do anything.” 

“Oh really?” You laughed. “Damn, Santi. I’ll keep that in mind” The man laughed, running his fingers through his curly hair. “Ok so… Three down, two to go.” 

“Redfly,” Frankie started, taking and holding a breath. “Redfly was what his grandfather went by in World War 2, and he said he wanted to use the same thing to honor him, so … that’s what we call him.” 

You took a few seconds to process what they’d told you, eyeing each man in turn. They’re all literal. So then, does that mean … “Are you not who you say you are, Frankie?” Turning your upper body, you rested one elbow on the table and stared at him. “Is a camera crew going to show up because you’re pretending to be someone else online and -”

“No.” He closed his eyes, inhaling. “I can barely keep up with my own shit, there’s no way I could pretend to be someone else. They call me Catfish because -”

“Because none of us have ever met anyone that enjoys eating as much as Francisco here does.” Pope cut in, pointing at Frankie with one long finger. “And he’s not picky about a goddamn thing, either.” 

“And at the time,” Will caught your attention by saying your name then, waiting until you met his eyes to say anything else. “He was the only one of us that had any facial hair, and it was just this wiry, sad looking mustache and -” He swore, frowning. “Did you just fucking kick me, ‘Fish? I can’t believe you.” 

“Sure did.” Frankie was scowling, the man’s full lips set in a pout that you very much wanted to kiss off of his face. Ok, well that escalated. “My mustache isn’t sad, you asshole, so -”

“Nah, you’re right. But the beard is when you let it get long.” Pope’s grin spread wide, and you couldn’t help laughing along with the guys, eyes squeezed shut and one hand rising to cover them. Oh, tonight was fun. I needed this. “I’m going to go and get another round, anyone want anything?” He looked between you as he stood, pausing. “Anyone?”

Will and Benny held up their fingers in agreement, and when Pope’s gaze lingered on you, you regretfully shook your head. 

“I wish I could, but I need to drive home, and since I don’t know the area too well, I don’t want to risk it.” You knew that it meant you had no reason to stay longer - that if you weren’t drinking, it was time to go back to the hotel. “Thank you though. I -”

“If you want to have another, I can take you home.” Frankie’s voice was low, the man leaning in subtly closer. “You’ll have to come back and get your car tomorrow, but I have no problem dropping you off.” I want to say yes, Frankie. But … 

“My hotel’s way past your house, Frankie. I appreciate the offer, but -” 

“You don’t need to drink to stay.” Benny leaned in, his eyes on your face. “I can go and grab you a Coke or more water, or -” 

“Thank you, Benny.” You held up one hand. “But I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m sure you don’t want me hanging around all night.” 

“I think one of us does.” Pope looked between you and Frankie as he spoke, not even trying to hide his smirk. “Isn’t that right, ‘Fish?” 

“Fuck off.” Frankie threw a wadded up straw wrapper at the man. “If she wants to leave, she wants to leave.” Frankie nodded twice, eyeing you. “At least let me walk you out to your car?” 

“That I will agree to.” Reaching for your bag, you dug around for your wallet. “What do I owe you guys? Should I go to the bar to -”

“I told you, it’s on us.” Benny gave you an exaggerated wink. “Just be nice when you mention this place.” Assuring him you would - and then thanking him again, you got to your feet. “Come back soon - we’ll be here.” 

Frankie stood too, gesturing to the door and telling his friends that he’d be right back. As you headed through the bar, you noticed the waitress glaring at you when the two of you passed. “She really doesn’t like me.” You mumbled the words, but they only made Frankie move closer, the man standing off to the side and holding the door open for you to pass. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” It was quiet in the parking lot, the distant sound of cars passing on the main road much quieter than the symphony of late summer bugs. He was silent as he followed you to your car, but when you got there, he spoke again. “You alright to drive?” 

Leaning against the door, you crossed your arms, nodding. “Yeah. And if I wasn’t, I’d tell you. I don’t like the idea of drunk driving, so I’d never do it.” He’d left his hat on the table inside, and you watched as the breeze lifted strands of his hair, Frankie worrying his lower lip with his teeth. I wonder how soft those curls are. “It was nice to meet you, Frankie. Thank you for suggesting this. I’m excited to -” 

“You got along well with everyone.” Frankie’s voice was quiet, eyes locked on your face. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Why? Am I that much of an -”

“No, people are usually a little intimidated by all of us at once, and you just…” He waved a hand back and forth before crossing his arms. “It was nothing. And I don’t just mean Benny hitting on you.” 

“I have a feeling that he does that with pretty much everyone that he meets, Frankie. I’m not going to read too much into it.” He glanced up, his smile growing as he gave you a peek at the taut muscle of his neck, the man’s throat on full display.

“I’ll give you that one.” The man sighed, looking back at you. “But you did seem to like us.” 

“I do.” Taking a half step closer to him, you let your arms drop, both of them dangling by your sides. “So if you asked me to have a drink with you again, I’d say yes.” You meant the group, but you also meant just Frankie, because the truth was that a large part of you had been disappointed that your time with him was cut short. But it doesn’t matter right now, “You should get back to your friends. I’m sure they’re waiting.” 

“Is that what you want?”

“No.” You answered before you could think about your response, making direct eye contact with Frankie as you spoke. “No, it’s not.” He nodded in reply, taking a deep breath, and you watched the man’s exposed upper chest rise and fall above the collar of his shirt. 

“What do you want, then?” His voice was low, Frankie’s head tilted to tone side as he furrowed his brow.

There was no question about it - the look in his eyes told you that he was just as interested as you. So why not go for it? This is close to the bottom of the list of bad ideas I’ve ever had. “I want …” He stayed in place, eyeing you as you inched closer. Should I just .. is it stupid? Am I … “I don’t need you to drive me back to the hotel, Francisco, but I want you to.” 

His eyes darkened - you saw them change, even in the low overhead lighting of the parking lot, but Frankie also nodded, the smile turning into a smirk. “My place is closer.” 

“Alright.” It was reckless - and you knew it - but you also knew more than a few things about Frankie and his friends, and if something happened, there were at least a dozen witnesses that had seen you with the man and then that you’d left with him. “Do you need to go back in and tell th-”

“They’ll figure it out.” He reached out then, holding a hand palm up and waiting for you to take it. “C’mon, my truck’s over here.” 

His fingers closed around yours and tightened, Frankie leading you away from your car and toward where he’d parked. It was a newer model pickup, dark in color - and to your surprise, he let go of your hand and reached for the door handle, pulling it open for you. “Such a gentleman, Frankie.” Turning your head to look at him, you wrinkled your nose. “Thank you.” 

“Always.” As you climbed in, you watched him reach up, one hand moving to grab for the brim of his hat.. Oh, yeah … that’s not … “Shit.” He groaned, fingers curling into a loose fist. “I can’t believe I forgot it.” 

“Go back in.” Pointing, you shook your head. “It’ll take two seconds.” He thought about it - you saw his expression change, but then Frankie hummed out a non-committal sound and reached for the edge of the door.

“One of ‘em will grab it for me.” Leaning closer, he ducked down so that you were eye level. “I’d just be taking it off again in a couple minutes anyway.” 

As he shut the door, you smiled at him, watching Frankie circle around the front of the truck toward the driver’s side. He walked with confidence, arms swinging gently, and you bit your lip at the sight. This day definitely took a turn. 

Frankie climbed in next to you, starting the ignition before he buckled his seatbelt. But once he’d settled a hand on the steering wheel and reached for the gear shift with the other, he turned his head to look at you - and then said your name. “If you change your mind, let me know. We’re about ten minutes away from my place, but it’s easy enough to stay on 275 to -”

“I’m not going to change my mind.” You were certain of that - the racing of your heart wasn’t due to apprehension or regret, and you weren’t second guessing your decision at all. Instead, you were excited, the thought of starting your time in Tampa with a night in Frankie’s bed more than appealing. “Are you?” 

“Nope.” Putting the car into drive, he eased toward the road, his right hand still resting on the shifter knob. “Nah, I made up my mind about you right around the time you admitted that you just wanted to use me for my piloting skills.” 

“We hadn’t even talked then. How did you - “ Cutting yourself off, you shook your head and looked out the window. “You know what? I’m not going to question it.” He snorted then, but didn’t say anything. “Why wasn’t Tom there tonight? He was the only one missing. I saw the picture of all of you hanging behind  the bar.”

“Tom doesn’t come out as much as he used to.” You were on the highway, Frankie pressing on the gas as he merged. “He and Molly - his wife - went through a really rough patch a while back, and when they decided to work on it, he uh, he decided  that he was going to stay at home with his family more.” Frankie shrugged, glancing over. “We’re all happy for him. It didn’t look too good for a while.” 

“He seems …” You shrugged, running your hand along the top of your thigh. “I only met him in a professional setting, but he seems different than all of you. Less … personable? I don’t know.” You didn’t want to be rude, but it was the truth. 

“You’re not wrong.” Frankie glanced over at you, wetting his lips. “Tom’s kind of a dick. There’s no other way to put it, but he’s saved all our asses more than once, and we’ve spent so much time with him that we’re used to it. Not an excuse, but …” Frankie eyed the road and then looked back at you. “But I’m still glad you reached out to him.”

“I saw one of his ads on TV.” You laughed, rubbing at your forehead with your fingertips as he took the exit. “And I wasn’t going to reach out, but then I just … I felt like maybe it was a sign.”

“You believe in all that? The universe lookin’ out for you and shit?” Well when you put it that way… 

“Not usually, no. But I needed a place to stay, I’d just gotten here, and he was right there. He was able to meet me really fast, we found a place I liked, and then he … he knew you, Frankie. And you’re a pilot, which is something else I need, and then you knew Benny and his friend with the fan boat, and …” Trailing off as he turned into a neighborhood, you looked down, shaking your head. “Maybe it’s too good to be true.” 

“I can tell you with a hundred percent honesty that no woman’s ever told me that before.” He pulled into the driveway of a small single story house, putting the truck into park. “I’m just a guy. They’re all just … who they are. And think about it this way - there aren’t many helo tours around here, so you probably would have ended up calling me anyway. You seeing that ad just sped up the process.” 

He was right - logically, you would have made a list of the people offering the services you needed and worked your way through it. And once I saw a picture of him, it would have been over. “He gave me the flyer - the ‘Fly With ‘Fish’ one?” Turning your head to look at him, you grinned. “That’s a stellar marketing tactic, you know. Putting your face on the -”

“I didn’t want to, believe it or not.” Turning the car off, Frankie unbuckled and angled his body toward yours, bending an arm to rest his elbow against the steering wheel. “Pope suggested it. Said that it might help increase business. I’m pretty sure he was joking, but … well. I’m booked about a month in advance most times, and even further out on the holidays.” 

“Have you seen yourself?” Both brows shot up, your mouth falling open in surprise. “Frankie, I’m sure there are women that book tours specifically to try and get you into bed.” 

“That what you did?” He winked and then bit his lip, thumb running idly over the curve of the wheel. “Pretend to need a -”

“No, I actually need a tour, thank you very much.” Reaching over, you pushed on his shoulder, laughing. “This is just … an added bonus.” More like a jackpot, actually. 

“Haven’t taken you up in the air yet.” He sighed. “So how do you know what the real bonus is?” 

“I don’t. You’re right.” Pointing at the house, you shook your head. “And forget the air, you haven’t even taken me inside of your house yet. I do like a challenge, but the front seat of this truck is -”

“Come on.” He reached over, squeezing your leg. At the contact, you sucked in a breath, freezing in place. He’s so warm. His hand is … “Let’s go in and get comfortable.” 

—

Tag list reblog coming soon!

[chiiyuuvv]

656; for cactus anon ♡ (tumblr is still acting shit); merry Christmas roady lights :)

@yuniniverse , @nenede , @sanniecatscakesff , @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @mars101 , @soul-is-a-strange-kid , @the-lemon-boy

Your eyes open to find the curtains unfastened, a yawn leaving your lips as you rub your eyes again, taking in the snowy scenery. It fell at a steady pace, covering the ground with its white powder; it brought a smile to your face.

But it drops when you look over your shoulder, finding yourself alone in your bed. You had agreed to let your boyfriend spend the night at your house since he didnt have any family to visit, and although you knew he didnt head far – judging by his shoes that were still placed by your door – it still made you a little sad that he left the bed without waking you up.

So, sliding your fluffy slippers on that he gave you as an early present, you shuffle out your bed and room, hunting him down. You werent sure if he was mingling with your parents in the kitchen, or if he was in the bathroom to wash up, that didnt matter; you needed his warmth.

The hunt didnt last long though, finding his back turned as he bends down, putting an ornament on the huge Christmas tree that sat in the back corner of your living room. He seemed so focused with his craft that he didnt even notice you enter the room, a noticeable jump leaving his body when you wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his back. You could feel how fast his heart was beating.

Playing it off though, he clears his throat, fiddling with your fingers. "Good morn-"

"I'm mad at you." You sleepily cut him off, buring your head deeper into his chest. "What?" He laughs at your randomness, turning your body around so that your head was resting on his chest instead. "What did I do, baby?" His fingers come to rub your hair, luring you back to sleep.

But you fight it off. "You left me.. alone."

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," he responds, "you looked too pretty to disturb."

A blush riizes to your cheeks, your fist closed to playfully hit his arm. "I hate you, hunter." You mumble, the male laughing at your antics again before turning around and resuming his decorations.

You wake yourself up in his hold, furiously blinking your eyes open as you jump up to look overs hunters shoulder, finding that he was almost done decorating the tree. A few red and green ornaments hung at the bottom with some candy canes at the center, the only thing that was missing was the big star that would be placed at the tip of the tree.

Darting your eyes from the tree and to his hand, you watch as he picks up the said star from the little box full of Christmas supplies before going to place it at the top of the spruce. You stop him. "I wanna do it." You jump again, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "I wanna do it." You repeat.

"Okay," he hums, crouching down to his knees. You send him a confused look, "what are you doing?"

"Helping you reach the top of the tree. You know, you're short." You scoff in return, rolling your eyes before climbing onto the latters back and circling your arms around his neck for safety.

He pushes up with his legs and passes you the star, his hands coming down to hold the back of your thighs, watching as you happily place the star at the top, giving it small adjustments so it didnt look crooked. When you were done, you wiggled your foot to signal to hunter to let you down, but he doesnt seem to notice.

"Hunter- AHH!" when you least expected it, hunter spins his body around, throwing you to the couch before grabbing your face to press all sorts of kisses on it. "Merry Christmas, princess." He says, ticking your sides before getting up and leaving for some breakfast.

[blueikeproductions]

After days of uncertainty, it’s official via a trademark applied by Hasbro.

It’s coming next year, and is indeed the successor to EarthSpark.

It’s still being treated with uncertainty by some if it has a show, but we’ve crossed this bridge before with each new show. Need I remind people how it was commonly believed Cyberverse was going to be a filler toy line with no show or some new Animated or Prime sequel when increasing evidence proved otherwise. (Though I suppose in a way they were half right on the former, since it did come off as a filler kids line when Hasbro put all their eggs in Netflix WFC’s basket, & look how that turned out.)

But no matter what we keep having that weird cycle of denial. Some still convince themselves Cyberworld is a sequel to EarthSpark or that it’s a continuation of TFONE.

TFONE themed series is more plausible but too soon to call because TFONE isn’t out yet, & we don’t know if it will be profitable. Just because people say they liked something doesn’t mean it made money or casuals liked it. -gestures to CV, RotB & ES rotting on shelves-

A Mutant Mayhem style Tales of the TMNT continuation DOES make sense, but Hasbro going full steam ahead with Cyberworld after EarthSpark’s underperformance feels more like a reaction to EarthSpark specifically not TFONE.

And again, why focus on what appears to be an Optimus Prime vs Galvatron story? How does that make sense where TFONE leaves off via leaks. What emotional connection does Orion Pax have towards Galvatron if he’s a separate person? Why skip ahead to D-16 having apparently upgraded further to Galvatron when he named himself after his idol Megatronus Prime? Theres leaps of logic that don’t make sense from either a Hasbro or fan perspective. The same can be said with Scorponok, who to my knowledge, isn’t even IN TFONE.

EarthSpark sequel speculation. Same problem. Even Rescue Bots Academy, despite focusing on new Rescue Bots, was very upfront in leaks and marketing about still including Heatwave’s group, so how is this an ES sequel when the Terrans aren’t even included? Not even any hint of new Terrans or for that matter new unique to the show Transformers.

The Autobots so far appear to be Optimus, Mirage, Grimlock & Snarl. Unless Hasbro is also sick of Bumblebee, the little lemon should be front and center along with Twitch & Thrash (with new Vehicle Modes), but he’s seemingly not in favor of Mirage. People try to defend it as an ES sequel due to its “unorthodox choices”, but are they really? Cosmos, Skywarp, Nova Storm, Skullcruncher, & the Insecticons feel more like hold overs from Cyberverse more than anything since both shows share staff, & in both shows hardly any of them get to do anything memorable. ES Cosmos’ only memorable thing is being voiced by Weird Al so far as of typing. Hardtop is the only one that sticks out to me because of his highly specific reference to a forgotten toy only TF Cybertron toy. And then he proceeded to be a nothing character with his arm used by Mandroid. Dude didn’t even get his own toy (yet), not even as a bad repaint of Swindle’s toy…

Sky-Byte, in fairness if he were allowed to be his RiD personality, DOES make sense for EarthSpark, but they never used him for it for whatever reason. (He too is a Cyberverse hold over in that earlier context, so it is kind of strange they didn’t use him).

One thing that does stick out to me though.

Similar to Digimon, Transformers has gotten into the habit of using one of the 13 Primes as a gimmick for a show, like using one of the Seven Deadly Digimon as a set piece.

Prime had Alpha Trion (& the Prime arm Megatron wore), RiD15 had The Fallen as a major villain and Micronus as a supporting character, Cyberverse had Alchemist Prime as a major character (albeit not handled well & feeling tacked on), & EarthSpark of course has Quintus Prime as the reason the show’s events happen.

If we’re to assume Cyberworld follows a similar approach, would that mean Onyx Prime gets used here?

It’s still bizarre to me he wasn’t used in RiD15’s own Beast theme, and with Cyberworld seemingly having its own Beast theme using Grimlock, Snarl, Sky-Byte & Scorponok, perhaps Onyx might have a role here? Maybe his weird Mask ties into the World aspect?

It can see other times, people, places and WORLDS after all.

Above all, the bare minimum is CyberWorld has to be fun instead of whatever CV, PW, WFC, & ES were.

And that will be put to the test soon enough…

…As Studio Trigger has been confirmed as working on some kind of Transformers anniversary anime thing. Notable rep includes Animated, Armada & G1 in what’s been teased so far. More than likely it’s a short similar to Gridman’s Boys Invent Great Hero short, and as many have pointed out, that served as the launching point for the well received SSSS.Gridman, SSSS.Dynazenon & Gridman Universe series & film. Fans seem extremely excited at this, so hopefully it’s a big return to the anime TF era that began with RiD01 in the states (yes I’m aware of Headmasters & the rest but still). With Trigger at the helm too!

We have nowhere to go but up after late stage IDW, CV & ES’ shortcomings, & with Skybound continuing to do well as of typing, hype for TFONE remaining strong, and general excitement at Cyberworld & Trigger, perhaps an emphasis to back to basics is just what we needed.

[forgedraptor]

hanahaki au p6

Penguin is looking at him weirdly again. That little scrunch between his eyes and frown means the man is thinking in overdrive

Its been a couple of weeks since Law spat out his first petal, ever since hes been using a mask to cover his face, luckily it didint garner any suspicion because of his work as a doctor, but the coughing surely did

its like a tickle at the back of his throat that he just cant itch, Law knows theres some left over petals down there that cant seem to get out enough fr a free windpipe but damn, sometimes he wishes he could do surgery on himself to take some of it off because its so damn annoying

alas he cant magically conjure up an operating room to do it, so he'll stick to massaging his throat and drinking dry-cough syrup to try easing the pain

does that even work? will it even help his agitated throat or just leave the flowers stuck down there covered in medicine? law does not know nor does he have enough energy to care

but more than that, his friends are starting to worry, well, worry more than usual. Bepo is trying to convince him to go to a doctor, even though technically, they are doctors too, just in a different field. Sachi has been bringing soothing teas and drinks that hes been forcing Law to drink. His favorite seems to be lemon and honey this week. Law cant lie, it does help even if its a short time

Meanwhile Penguin, that annoying perceptive asshole, has been staring at him for the past 20min and not saying a word and Law has a dreaded feeling that the man is connecting outrageous but also accurate thoughts about Laws symptoms

Maybe its because the three were there when Law finally stopped denying himself for having a crush on Luffy (which may or may not be because the three had pointed out all the facts, with a PowerPoint presentation and pictures to showcase his infatuation with the strawhat wearing boy with the last slide saying: 'you deserve to love and be loved idiot!!' in all caps which yes, may have left the four of them in a pile of limbs, hugging and crying at night and waking up to work the next day with red rimmed eyes and smiles, or in Laws case, a smirk)

But yes, it seems that Penguin has been connecting the dots, and as crazy as it may seem hes always been good at giving the most craziest suggestions and ideas that could either be the right deductions or close enough for them to diagnose the right symptoms or solutions they need to help a pateint.

like law said, perceptive asshole.

so its not too far in the realm of reality for Penguin to realize something is wrong, and not in the usual 'you need to eat and sleep more' way but something deeper, and thus the reason why his thinking face is currently on the tired cardiac surgeon and annoying the fuck out of him

But Law isint going to say anything, Penguin can glare all he wants but he is not saying a word. fuck that. and fuck Penguin.

but the world has a funny way to mess up his plans every single time because the moment he tries to stand up and leave, his chest gives a painful clench and a sudden pulsating, stabbing pain overwhelms laws everything.

stumbling, he grabs the closes surface he can find which is luckily part of the table, but which is unluckily, full of books, papers, coffee cups and other shit they were to lazy to clean up, and it all crashes unto the floor, as law wheezes for the breath that he cant seem to get from his lungs. fuck why did it suddenly get so fucking painful??

someone is grabbing him, shit is the world titling? he cant breathe. he needs to breathe. something is stuck in his throat. he needs to fucking breathe. law suddenly feels a pair of hands around his chest and a sudden painful squeeze. A wave of nausea hits him as something forcibly gets spat out of his mouth and unto his mask

its only a few minutes later when the black splotches in his eyesight disappears that law realizes hed fallen over and is now slumped on the ground, with Bepo next to him holding his hand and breathing deeply, trying to make law instinctually copy him, with Sachi holding a pulse ox and is that an oxgyen tank? and Penguin is holding his mask and shirt open- fuck. wait. his mask. fuck. the petals.

"law. youve got a lot of explaining to do, you fucker."

Bepo is silently crying, Sachi's hand that is still holding and oxygen tank which is, what the fuck?? is shaking, and Penguin isnint even shouting as he hissed those words.

he sounds like a person who finally figured out a puzzle piece that was missing but then the finished image is something you hate, so you seethe and burn in anger and frustration and oh fuck.

law is so dead.

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 1 excerpt — dabihawks first kiss read full story here

October

Sometimes, Hawks will visit Dabi outside of their scheduled meetings. 

As these impromptu visits escalate in frequency, the scarred man begins to get comfortable, and Hawks begins to notice things about him — really precious things. 

Dabi likes to wear delicate things, like boy shorts and panties because boxers and briefs tug too harshly on his staples. When he’s home, he forgoes pants as much as possible because the denim of his jeans scrapes against the seams. The same goes for tops, the scarred-man favoring necklines that will swoop far beneath the stitching on his chest to avoid any type of friction. His cheap apartment is cleaner than Hawks’, the strong smell of lemon disinfectant always lingering in the air. Dabi’s pillow is a flattened lumpy thing, but the covering is pristine and softer than the expensive sheets Hawks has in his own apartment. 

Dabi takes care of himself in the gentlest ways, and Hawks can’t help but wonder if anyone else has ever treated this man the slightest bit gentle. He worries about the answer, even though he shouldn’t.

He knew infiltrating the League would be dangerous. He knew getting on the good side of the infamous flame-villain would be difficult and trying. He just never expected his own heart would get involved. 

The first time Hawks kisses him, they’re sitting on Dabi’s bed while he ashes his cigarette. He’s wearing nothing but black panties and his flimsy white tee. The moonlight is shining across his face so, so prettily, reflecting off his staples like diamonds, and Hawks gets lost in the glimmer of his bright blue eyes. Dabi’s turning his head, opening his mouth to speak, and whatever he meant to say gets lost between Hawks' teeth.  

For a sweet second, those multi-textured lips are pliant as they push against Hawks’ own, but then Dabi is pushing back with a gasp, “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” He answers, when he really wants to say, ‘Something finally for myself.’

For the first time since Hawks has known Dabi, the villain looks scared.

A scarred hand comes up to cup Hawks’ face, printless fingertips brushing Hawks’ cheekbones, and Dabi’s heavily-lidded eyes flicker once to Hawks’ mouth before moving back to his eyes. Dabi’s own sharpen coldly, “Why?” 

And Hawks can only answer honestly.

“Because I want to.” 

“That’s not good enough,” Dabi lets go. 

Hawks moves his own hands to cup those scarred cheeks, “Because I want you.” 

“You don’t even know me.” 

And that’s true. Just because they share a couple stories here and there about who they used to be, Hawks doesn’t really know Dabi. There are twenty-plus years of life this man has gone through, and Hawks knows it will probably take years for him to fully know and understand the man in front of him, and vice-versa.

But, “I want to. And I want you to know me.” 

“Ha!” Dabi scoffs, “Oh, really, Hawks? ” it’s practically a sneer, and Hawks can feel Dabi pulling back, away from him, away from this — all of this that’s been bubbling up to right here, right now, this very moment. 

And he starts to panic, “Keigo. My name is Takami Keigo, but I don’t use it. At all.” 

Dabi stops moving and his mouth gapes. 

Hawks has seen a lot of beautiful people, with pretty pink mouths — small and plump and big and thin, all kinds. 

He’s never seen a pair that made him want to act so badly, though, not until he met Dabi.

Those two-toned lips are moving, the top slightly plumper than the bottom, its cupid’s bow rounded out and puffy, and the scarred half contrasts so nicely against Dabi’s perfect pearly-white teeth.

“What’s the point of tellin’ me?” 

Dabi looks scared again, but the way his thin chest expands and his cheeks flush — so pink, the prettiest shade of pink Hawks has ever seen — Hawks thinks he also looks excited. 

Hawks lets one of his hands travel down Dabi’s side, “Because I want you to use it,” he squeezes at the healthy skin of Dabi’s thigh, “And I think you want to, as well.” 

Hawks doesn’t realize he’s pulling Dabi’s legs open and pushing the villain back until he registers the way Dabi’s leg, the one in his hold, unfolds from its position and wraps around his waist, “Okay. Keigo.” 

The last thing he sees is the way Dabi’s hair halos over his pillow under the cold light of the moon as he presses the scarred man against the beaten mattress.

They make out the entire night.

Keigo doesn’t get a single bit of useful information other than precisely the way Dabi’s body feels under his own.

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