#ok now i gotta come up with the next prompt and work on his birthday art wish me luck

[akademiyas]

day 28: alcohol

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again. 

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll 

Fresh coffee.  

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.  

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.  

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.  

As he remembers exactly where he is.  

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.  

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.  

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.  

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.  

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.  

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.  

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.  

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.  

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.  

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.  

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.  

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.  

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.  

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.  

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.  

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.  

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.  

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.  

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.  

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.  

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.  

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.  

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.  

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.  

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.  

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.  

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.  

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.  

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.  

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.  

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.  

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.  

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter,  “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”  

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.  

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.  

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.  

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.  

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.  

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.  

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.  

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.  

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.  

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.  

“You’re wet.”  He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”  

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.  Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.  

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”  

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.  

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi?  You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.  

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”  

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.  

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.  

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.  

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

--------------

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

[luvknow]

parasitic | bang chan

genre: bang chan x fem!reader | college au ; roommates au ; enemies-to-lovers ; alcohol mention summary: your roommate is going abroad for the semester and now you’re forced to share your apartment with bang chan, who you basically lived with for the past semester except he didn’t pay rent, he ate all of your food, and crashed on your couch after a long night out. you were going to do everything in your power to avoid him until your roommate comes back. that doesn’t work out so well. wc: 11.8k a/n: omg a month late, but merry christmas to @channiechanchan!! did you know it was me?? LMAO I’M SO SORRY LKJDSLKFJ IT’S ALSO NOT EVEN XMAS RELATED BUT....... I HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT, ILY SLKJDSL

The sun rays peeked through the gaps of the curtains letting you know that a beautiful Sunday was upon you. You would spend the morning making breakfast for you and your roommate, clean your room of all the bad vibes, knock out some homework, and light an overpriced candle to conclude a stress-free day.

A long morning stretch in bed was the start to your day, and you had the widest smile on your lips upon exiting your room as if there was nothing that could ruin your energy. That dropped quickly once you were greeted with a loud, snoring, almost-naked man face down and passed out on your couch.

“Sorry about him,” roomie Yeri said out of habit while practically crawling out of her room. “Again.”

She looked like a hot mess, with her hair frazzled in all directions and last night’s make-up still smeared around her eyes. Her timing was impeccable - it was like she could sense your annoyance through her walls. 

“Why?” you whined childishly. This had to be the tenth weekend by now!

“You know why! Lucas had his birthday party last night, remember? Which you were invited to but totally flaked last minute.”

“I have an exam this week.”

“We have an exam this week and it’s not until Thursday!”

“So? I like to be prepared!”

“Can you two shut up?” the bane of your existence interrupted. The newly brunette (who had dyed his hair in your living room, thanks to Yeri) ran a hand through his wild hair, hoping it’d alleviate some of the pain from his hangover. “I have a pounding headache.”

“And whose fault is that?” you scolded bitterly before yanking your blanket off of him. The poor man below you shriveled up and buried his musty legs under your beautiful couch pillows for some sense of warmth. “Not like you pay rent here for you to have the right to complain, or anything.”

“Lighten up, buttercup. You’re so uptight.”

“Gotta do my job around here and exterminate the parasites.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Too many STDs.”

Yeri chucked a pillow each at the both of you so you’d shut up and avoid waking up any grumpy neighbors. “Please, for the love of God, can you guys chill out for once so we can have a relaxing Sunday together?”

“Together?” you and Chan groaned simultaneously.

Yeri was not having it and shot a glare like an angry mother, to which you and Chan mumbled some sort of noise of confirmation and went about your separate ways. You inhabited the kitchen and Chan dragged himself to wash away the sticky shame and Hennessey in the shower. Yeri hopped over to help you make pancakes as if her two best friends weren’t just itching to pull each other’s hair out. She liked to think of herself as the glue of the group, like the quirky friend in the middle who was delusion to the tension in between. Neither of you had the heart to ruin her sitcom fantasy.

“Morning ~” she sang cutely.

“I hate him.”

“He’s not that bad!”

“You’ve been saying that the entire fall semester, but almost every weekend of mine has been ruined by his presence!”

Yeri winced and took a step back as she watched you vigorously mix the pancake batter faster than an electronic stand mixer. Another step back was taken while you violently dumped in the blueberries. Cooking and baking was one of your favorite hobbies and she knew you could be quite passionate about it, but she never saw you angry-cook before. It was a scary site to see, as if you being angry wasn’t scary enough.

“He’s only the way he is because you never gave him a chance.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s the type of person who likes to be liked, you know?”

“So? Don’t we all?”

“Of course, but it’s different with people like him. When those types of people meet someone who doesn’t like them, they can get a little… How do I say this? Defense mechanism-y?”

“Wouldn’t you think that would motivate him to, I don’t know, be nice to me and not inhabit my space and eat my food every weekend? Perhaps he’d kiss my ass a little?”

“Like I said, defense mechanism-y…”

“More like melodramatic.”

No matter how Yeri tried to explain to you how Chan was ‘different’, you weren’t buying it nor did you care to argue any longer. Why should you have to like him just because he was your best friend’s other best friend? This wasn’t some algebra problem that could be easily solved by the transitive property - this was a matter of respecting each others’ personal spaces and each other in general, and Chan had been the one to cross both of those lines first, that dick. While Yeri lectured like your math professor, you mindlessly hummed here and there pretending to understand, just as you would in actual math class.

The bathroom door opening prompted you and Yeri to shut up immediately. Then, a moist Chan walked out of the steam with nothing but a familiar lavender towel wrapped around his disgustingly chiseled waist.

“Is that my towel!?” you shrieked in fear.

“Yeah. Hope that’s ok with you!” The fake honey sweetness in his tone made your skin crawl like there were bees under the dermis. “By the way, you’re out of shampoo. I love this scent! What is it, tea tree and mint?”

Yeri had to hold you back from hitting him with a hot spatula and Chan managed to escape back into the bathroom with a change of clothes that he kept here ‘for emergencies’, of course. They hung on the open clothes rack in the living room that was meant to show off yours and Yeri’s tasteful jackets, but the aesthetic was ruined early fall and even your jackets began to smell of Chan’s sophisticated cologne.

“I’m gonna kill him in his sleep,” you seethed.

Yeri patted your head like you were an angry kitten. “Killing the captain of the basketball team isn’t exactly kosher, love.”

“I’ll show you kosher.”

“Can’t keep on threatening me, babe,” Chan tisked while throwing on a t-shirt upon entering the A and B conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just trying to make our friendship better. You know, since we’ll be roommates soon.”

Excuse me, what? “What are you talking about…”

“Oh, you don’t know?” a sly Chan smirked.

When you turned to interrogate Yeri, she quickly stopped the sign language that clearly meant ‘shut your GODDAMN MOUTH, Christopher’ and gave you that sweet, innocent smile that let her get away with practically anything because who could say no to her rosy cheeks and rainbow-shaped eyes?

“Yeri, what is he talking about…?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, about that… I got accepted into the study abroad program!”

“That’s amazing and I am very proud of you and I love you, but what does this cockroach mean when he says we’ll be roommates soon!?”

“Hey!” he pouted.

“Oh, shut it!”

“Ah, well, I figured to lessen the burden of paying double the rent, I thought it’d, you know, take it upon myself to save you the stress of finding a subletter and Chan was the only one available…”

“Really? Of the entire cheerleading team, the pottery club, the damn pilates and cycling club, hell even the other players on the basketball team, Chan was the only one free to sublet? The only one?”

“Um... yes?”

“You know, I don’t really consent to this -”

“Please, _____, it will only be for the semester, I promise! I leave next week and I can’t take much with me, and Chan is the only person I trust to stay in my room and not ruin anything and steal my underwear!”

“How can you say that when he’s probably going to bring girls home and do them on your bed!?”

“I would never do that!” Chan interjected.

“Yeah, ok.”

“No, really! Why would I ruin her bed when I can just ruin yours while you’re gone?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Christopher -!”

“See!” Yeri brought the two of you into a esophagus-crushing headlock so you two would shut up. “You two are already getting along so well!!”

Chan managed to slip away and steal you from Yeri, giving you a rough knuckle sandwich. “We’ll get along swimmingly, Yer-bear, I promise. Isn’t that right, _____?”

Yeri couldn’t help but look at you both with sparkly eyes, thinking that yes, maybe there’s a chance that a beautiful friendship could blossom from this! Jabbing an elbow to his ribs with a fake smile of your own, you wordless agree with a nod.

As long as Chan stayed in his room and you stayed in yours, maybe there wouldn’t be much to worry about, right?

--

The first week with Chan was exactly how you expected it - seeing his bare ass because he never closed the bathroom door, stealing your snacks, taking up the living room space, and blasting his loud soundcloud music that you could hear through your paper-thin walls. Still, even through all the frustration and the annoyance, you thought it would be best if you two just lived your lives separately and didn’t bother making nice with each other. Rather than fighting and yelling, ignoring each other for the sake of everyone’s sanity was for the best.

What pushed you to the edge was when he took the last pack of fruit snacks you were really looking forward to after a long week of classes.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned into the cupboard. “Chan!”

“Yes, darling?” he called from his - Yeri’s - bedroom, to which you stomped over to confront him. Seeing a grown man on Yeri’s white desk on a pink gaming chair playing some PC game was truly a sight to see.

“Did you eat the last of my fruit snacks!?”

The sly boy swiveled the desk chair to face you. “Ooh, was that the last one? I swear there was one left…”

“Come on, dude!”

“I’m sorry, ok, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal! That’s not cool!”

“No, what’s not cool is that you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

You were taken aback by his bold, although correct, assumption. You really didn’t expect him to call you out on this so early. “I… have not…!”

“You’re such a liar!” He pointed accusingly. Although you seemed heated in the argument, Chan was grinning because of course he was right, that dick.

“You don’t think I have anything better to do, like do my homework or-or hang out with friends outside of this apartment?”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean every time you come home and see me in the living room, you go straight to your room.”

“That’s normal!”

“Ah yes, but then you wait until I go into my room -”

“Yeri’s room.”

“- to cook dinner or grab a snack.”

“That’s just a coincidence -”

“How about the opposite, when I come home and you’re chilling in the living room and then you go to your room and shut the door? No ‘hi, how was your day’, or anything.”

“Well -”

“Or how about the mornings, when you’re sitting at the kitchen table relaxing and drinking something warm and sweet-smelling with a tired smile on your face because this is the only time in your day where you get to truly relax, but the second I leave my room to go to the bathroom or grab some water, you chug whatever’s barely boiling in your cup, dump it in the sink, and head out.”

“... I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Wow, look at that smug look on your face,” he pointed again. You didn’t even feel that proud smile on your lips. But Chan didn’t think it was amusing. His lips formed a frown, like he was insulted or even hurt at how cold you could be towards him. “What have I done to make you hate me this much?”

Your eyes bulged incredulously. “Let’s go down memory lane, shall we? Almost every weekend of the fall semester you; crashed on our couch, ate all of our ramen and eggs and sriraicha the morning after to recover from your massive hangover, used our laundry detergent, and used our bath products just to name a few! All without a simple thank you or even asking beforehand!”

Chan couldn’t deny that yes, maybe he’d been a little, um, unceremonious with his intrusion on your life, but come on, everyone deserves a second chance! The very prideful man in front of you rolled Yeri’s pink chair to the threshold only to clasp your hands together in his and now you were sweating.

“Ok, I’ll admit that I was a terrible guest this past semester.” Does an apology count if the guilty party rolls his eyes? “So, out of the goodness of my heart, I am very, very sorry.”

“My ass.”

“What!? Does this not look sincere to you?” he asked, pointing to his fake pouty face.

“Ok, I’m leaving.”

“No no no, c’mon!” Chan whined as he chased you into the living room. He grabbed your trailing hand to stop you. “Look, I’m truly sorry that I sometimes use your things -”

“Always use my things.”

“Most of the time use your things. I am sorry, really. Please believe me, ok? Aren’t you tired of avoiding me all the time?”

A tired sigh escaped you because you were absolutely exhausted from it. “I accept your semi-sincere apology. But why, for the love of God, why don’t you ever use Yeri’s things!? Why mine? She’s the one that’s your friend!”

“Honestly? I wanted to get your attention.”

“Oh, my God, what are you, five?”

“Hey, you’re the one who ignored me like a rude hostess from the get-go! You never gave me a chance!”

“My first impression of you was all I needed to not give you one.”

“I couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You puked in my backpack with some of my textbooks in it and poor Yeri had to clean up your mess!”

“Oh yeah, I remember that… That was on Sunwoo’s birthday.” You tried walking away again, but Chan’s grip was too strong. “Ok, fine, I’ll admit my first impression was horrendous, but you never let me redeem myself after that, so I kept annoying you so you’d confront me about it! That’s not fair that you judged me so quickly!”

“Yeah, and look how annoying me turned out! It went from my first impression to my thousandth impression.”

“I mean, it eventually worked, right?”

Another tired sigh. “Chan, is there a purpose to this?”

“Yes. I want to start over.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Start over? Like, erase all the shit that happened between us?”

“Exactly. A clean slate. Clean plates, I’ll even do your dishes tonight.”

You did hate doing the dishes… And you were so tired of stressing out over avoiding him, even if it had only been a week. After a long, painful pause, you held out your hand for him to shake. “Fine, a clean slate it is.”

A prideful and grinning roommate gladly shook your hand. “I pledge to not be an asshole anymore.”

“And I promise not to have a stick up my ass.”

“Wow, look how far we’ve come, huh? Cheers to a new friendship?”

“After you do my dishes.”

“... Fair enough.”

To commemorate this new and fresh friendship, you joined Chan in the kitchen. You didn’t do anything as he hand-washed your handmade dishes made in pottery class, but in return for eating your last fruit snack pack, he offered you some cookies he’d been hiding to which you gladly obliged. It was a peaceful silence in the kitchen other than the clinking of dishes and running water that offered some white noise while you read one of your books (after Chan called you a nerd). This had to be the most stress-free thirty minutes of your life.

“So,” your new ‘friend’, if you’d generously call him, began after finishing the dishes. He took a seat next to you and grabbed a cookie of his own. “Now that we’re cool and all, I would like to formally invite you to our basketball game tomorrow.”

"First of all, we're not totally cool just yet. Think of this as like a trial. Gotta pay your premium subscription fees before getting the premium benefits.”

“Yeah, yeah, so do you wanna go or not?"

"Hm, a basketball game? Like you're playing in it?"

"As the captain, I sure hope so."

You thought about it for a second - what terrible things could possibly come about if you went to one of Chan's basketball games? Well, it's set in a crowded and sweaty arena, whose crowd and players are also sweaty, it was loud, the food and drinks were expensive, and you literally could not care less about basketball. But, out of the goodness of your heart, which was now willing to give people a second chance for some reason, maybe you could tolerate sitting through a quarter or two.

"Sure, I'll go."

"Really? I wasn't expecting that."

"Then why'd you bother asking?"

"I'm tryna be homies, and that's what homies do! Invite homies to their basketball games."

"Please don't call me homie."

"Ok, home skillet."

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know anything about basketball."

"Like, at all?"

"I know the cool far shots are worth like three points, right?"

"Oh, darling, you have a lot to learn. Here, lemme do a spark notes run down."

Professor Chan, PhD in sports and partying, took however many hours to explain. You lost track after two. At the end of the night, all of the cookies and milk were gone and you both went to bed at two in the morning.

--

"You, at a basketball game!?" Yeri snorted from the other side of the world. "And you and Chan being civilized!? Lord, how long have I been gone?"

"I have many regrets…"

"Don't say that! I think it's cute that you guys are finally getting along. Who would've thought that locking you two in the same apartment for one week was all that it took?"

"It might have been sooner if he'd just apologized right away instead of stealing all of my stuff to get my attention."

"Yup, sounds like Christopher."

"So you're coming back soon, right…?"

"If soon means a couple of months, yes."

"Yeri ~!" you whined, hopelessly missing your Sunday night partner watching crime documentaries.

"Chill, you big baby, just hang out with Chan if you're so lonely."

"Ugh, gross." Ironically enough, you stepped on a freshly-spat wad of gum upon entering the half-filled gymnasium.

"But not too often cuz, you know, you might fall in love ~"

You hoped no one saw the way your face twisted in disgust. "Are you delusional!?"

"Or even worse, you two might get drunk and make out and then fu -"

"OH-KAY, bye, Yer-bear love you!" You hung up immediately, traumatized at the thought she planted in your head. You hated how your face heated up so brightly. Don’t sweat it, _____! There’s no way that something like that could blossom from something that was nothing!

"Hey, you actually made it -" Chan had burst into your bubble without a warning, causing you to jump and drop your phone. After wiping off another fresh glob of gum from your phone screen this time, you bucked up the courage to stand face-to-face with a confused Chan wearing his basketball uniform. "Jeez, you good? You're all blushy. Ah, you saw Jaehyun's nudes, didn't you?"

"No, idiot! You just startled me, although I should be used to you invading my space by now."

“Ha ha. Stop being weird and take a seat. We’re still warming up, but hopefully we’ll start soon.”

“Uh, is there like, designated seating, or?”

Chan’s dimply smile accompanied a rough hair ruffle. “How cute, you’ve never been to a game before, huh?”

“I would rather die than willingly pay to go here on my leisure.”

A strong, sweaty arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Sit right over there,” he said, pointing to a single spot in the middle of the one hundred level that allowed for the best view of the entire court. “You’ll see me in action the whole time.”

“Next to the dude eating a chili dog and the chick with a cut-out of Woojin’s face?”

“The superfan section truly is not of this world.”

“If I came all the way here just to watch you lose, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry, baby, we never lose!”

The coach called Chan back to warm up some more which left you no choice but to enter the germ-infested purgatory and sit in between the superfans. Glancing at the other team, it was clear that they had the intimidation factor of being the taller and bigger players, so you weren’t sure how this was going to turn out. But your team, although smaller, had an enormous amount of unwavering energy. Perhaps it was because they were playing at home and had the entire half of this court filled to the brim cheering their names.

Chan was busy next to the couch, watching the form of his teammates as they were shooting three pointers. There was no doubt to anyone, even if no one had ever seen him before, that he was the captain. Who knew the barf-filled, void for a stomach, almost always naked asshole had the mindset of a lion? Every now and again, he’d pull one of his teammates to the side, probably a newbie to the varsity team, and help him with his form or give pointers or remind him of what play they were going to execute once the buzzer rang.

At some point, you realized you were watching him for far too long because he caught you right where he placed you. By the smirk on his lips, you’ll never hear the end of it if you see each other back at the apartment, and you would have looked away almost immediately if he hadn’t grabbed a ball not a second later. What was he doing?

Chan dribbled the ball to the free throw line (at least you think that’s what it’s called). He looked at you again, but this time he was pointing, like he was challenging you. Every pair of eyes in the gymnasium managed to pinpoint his target to you and if he thought you were blushy before, he should really see you up close now. After the very dramatic scene, Chan focused on dribbling the ball a few times which brought everyone’s attention back to him, thankfully. He dribbled a bit more, stopped to set up his shot, followed through and swoosh, there it went, right into the basket like a mathematician's perfect parabola.

“That was for you,” he mouthed silently with a sense of tease dripping from every word.

Normally, you might have flicked him off, but who were you to ruin the vibe just before the game started? Out of the goodness of your heart, you lightly clapped at his performance like this was the opera.

And so the game began! Mingyu, since he was the tallest member, did that thing where they toss the ball up in the air and they try to get it on their side, and since he was like 6’5”, it was easy for Chan’s team to start with the ball. There was a lot of back and forth head movements and eye scanning and you felt like your brain was being shaken up. To be honest, before you stepped into the stadium, you thought that none of this was going to excite you in the least. The idea of sweaty boys running around with a ball was completely barbaric, didn’t you think? But when someone, especially Chan, shot the ball or blocked it or did some weird dancey footwork, you gasped and cheered with the rest of the gym, the spirit of the game blooming in your soul much to your resistance.

The game ended almost too quickly and thankfully your team won. All of the superfans and the cheerleaders ran towards the team, congratulating them with cheers and hugs and mounting their beloved captain on their shoulders. Chan had his bright and dimply smile you’ve been seeing too often this week. You considered waiting until the crowd died down so you could congratulate him right then, but being the captain meant he was the center of everyone’s attention, not just yours. You shrugged off the impatience and headed for home. You could always congratulate him tomorrow, so long as he hasn’t puked anywhere.

Just before exiting the gym, you heard your name being called.

“_____, wait!” Chan yelled, sprinting to you as soon as his people made a walkway.

“I guess a congratulations is in order,” you said. “Congrats on winning. You looked super cool out there.”

“Hold on, can you say that one more time?” he teased, whipping out his phone to record you.

“Congrats, asshole!” you greeted the camera with double birdies.

“Thank you, m’lady. Where are you going now -”

“Channie!” a cute voice cried. Channie?

“Miyeonie!” he parroted back at the pretty cheerleader.

“Are you coming with us to Mingyu’s or what?”

You almost forgot it was the weekend already. It was time for drunk Chan shenanigans to ensue and that meant locking yourself up in your room and hiding the newly-bought fruit snacks.

“Oh, uh…”

Chan looked back at you like he was about to ditch his little sibling who had asked to play with him. Before any embarrassing pity invites were thrown out, you quickly bid your farewell.

“I’ll see you later, Channie ~” you waved off playfully.

“_____, hold on,” he said in urgency. Oh no, please don���t do what you think he’s doing… “Uh, I think I’m going to skip out on tonight, Miyeon.”

Both of you looked at him like he had three heads and two tails. Miyeon’s the only one brave enough to speak up on it. “Party Boy Channie is ditching us tonight? Why?”

“I’m super tired.” You’re full of shit, Chan! Why are you ruining my quiet night in!? “I’ll catch you guys next week, though.”

“Fine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok ~” She then quickly kissed him on his lips and he welcomed it fully like they’ve been doing that for some time now. Could it be that Party Boy Channie has finally settled down, despite all of his sloppy stories he used to slur about every weekend? How was it that he, of all scumbags, was able to have a significant other and you couldn’t even get a tinder date! “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t get too wild tonight.”

“No promises!”

Chan sighed helplessly and turned to face a disgusted? Shocked? No, a very uncomfortable you who had watched a corny teen drama movie unfold right in your face.

“Sorry about that,” he said sincerely for once.

“Oh please, I absolutely love watching true love express itself right in front of me, Channie.”

He rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s not love.”

“Really? You’re telling me kissing pretty cheerleaders isn’t your love language?”

“Not when they cling to me like mothballs.”

“You’re so cruel, Channie.”

“Stop calling me that,” he warned. “Secondly, what are we doing tonight?”

“We? I don’t know who this we is, but I’m going home.”

“Aw, c’mon, really? I just ditched a Kim Mingyu party and perhaps some ass for some quality roommate bonding time!”

“I did not ask you to do that.”

“Don’t you wanna go out to eat or something? I’ll even pay for you.”

“No, because there’s food at home.”

“There isn’t food at home, you liar!”

“Well ok, not yet, I still have to go to the market first and then I’ll cook.”

“Oh?” You can cook? He certainly didn’t know that. “You’re cooking us dinner?”

“I’m cooking me dinner.” Chan folded his hands and gave you a poor excuse for puppy eyes. But he did just win the game, and you bet doing all that sporty stuff made him starving. “But I guess I can make you a plate... I guess you and I can… eat together…”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m clearly holding back my excitement.”

Usually in movies or tv, they have the head chefs of famous local restaurants come to the markets between four and five in the morning. The amateur chefs like yourself prefer to pick off what was left for much cheaper at night time. It’s not that the stuff left over was any bad, it was just the important people managed to pick out all the perfect prawns and symmetrical vegetables and what have you. It was much less stressful in the evenings anyways, when everyone was already home cooking and you were left to wander as you pleased before the vendors packed up for the day.

“Do you come here all the time to grocery shop?” a freshly-washed Chan asked beside you. When he went grocery shopping, as long as the produce didn’t have any bruises and the meat was red, that’s all he needed. He never inspected the peaches for its plumpness or asked what time the fish was caught today, unlike you, though now and again he’ll slap a watermelon to test its juiciness.

“Goodness, no, am I made of money?”

“How expensive can this place be, they’re not even in a store.”

“Oh, Chan the naivete. Think of the most expensive piece of produce you’ve ever bought. It’s probably organic, right? Free of pesticides and the like?”

“I think it was an avocado.”

“Right, completely ridiculous that you’re paying $2.50 per avocado. The avocadoes here? Double that.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I really wish I was. Those are the morning price avocadoes though. Nighttime shoppers like us are lucky to snag them for $3.50.”

“Why bother paying so much when you can go to the local store across the street from your house?”

“Even though I can get much more for the price I’m paying here,” you paused and handed Chan the brightest and quite possibly the smallest strawberry he’d ever seen. “You can taste the difference.”

Snipping off the green stem and leaves, the clueless boy popped the berry in his mouth and you watch the flavor brighten his eyes.

“Quality over quantity,” you bragged.

The rest of your time there, you had to stop Chan from eating a single grape from every little basket at every single vendor.

“You are a child.”

“Baby me, baby.”

Coming back to the apartment with your’s and Chan’s arms full of groceries, anxiousness rushed in the second you stepped beyond the threshold. It occurred to you that you’ve never actually cooked for anyone before besides Yeri. This will be the second time you’ll see someone’s first reaction to your cooking, and it’ll be from your worst enemy.

“Need me to sous chef, head chef?” he asked while unpacking.

“Actually, that would help me a lot. Could you wash the vegetables?”

“Sure. While we’re at it, can I get your opinion on something?”

You raised your brow in confusion. “Do I have the knowledge for it?”

“You have ears, so yes.”

From that point moving forward, you decided not to question Chan because he was going to do whatever he wanted anyways. As you prepped the kitchen, you ignored the loud rustling in the living room with the occasional ‘ow, fuck’ following a stubbed toe. Out of curiosity and right before yelling at him to hurry up, Chan had finally pressed the play button and an unfamiliar song played through his massive speakers that he brought outside.

“Is this your new song?” you asked.

He did the ‘hand-sexily-but-also-shyly-running-through-my-hair’ thing before answering. “Yeah, and I’m not sure if I like it that much. The guys say it sounds good, but they’re my homies so they have to say that, y’know?”

“At least you know I won’t bullshit you.”

“Be gentle at least, please.”

“I will once you help me with dinner finally.”

“Right, right.”

Of course one song didn’t cover the entirety of the dinner preparation. After the one, which you honest to God liked a lot (“Stop lying.” “I’m not! You asked me to be honest, dick!”), Chan shyly but happily showed you more of his work. Some of it was already posted to his Soundcloud and some weren’t uploaded because he either hated them or he was stuck and left unfinished.

“Like, how is it possible that I can’t finish a project whose finished product is less than three minutes long!?” By now, Chan gave up trying to help after he cut his finger several times and sat at the table munching on his expensive basket of berries as he explained his creative block to you as if you were his therapist. “It makes me seem lazy, doesn’t it?”

“People hit creative walls all the time,” you reassured. “Don’t get yourself down about it.”

“Have you ever even hit a wall before?” he challenged.

“I do in the kitchen all the time, you ass.”

“How is that even possible? What walls can you even hit in the kitchen?”

“The difference between baking and cooking is that baking has less room for error, but tons of room for visual creativity, which is why I think baking is much harder. Cooking measurements for a meal, on the other hand, are meant to be adjusted with freedom which is nice, but how many times can someone change the presentation of a bowl of rice, meat, and vegetables?”

A bowl of said food was placed in front of a drooling Chan who had to sit through the tortuous cooking process smelling the aromatics and satiate his rumbling tummy with sour fruit. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet and his eyes were already sparkling with anticipation. It was reactions like his that made you the most embarrassed because what if he tasted it and hated it!?

“Whoa, this looks delicious!” he beamed.

“You didn’t think I could cook, did you.”

“No, I thought you were joking and when you weren’t I was like, ‘I HAVE to taste her cooking’. I'm a little disappointed that it doesn’t look inedible.”

“Ha ha, just eat your food, parasite.”

With anticipation, you watched Chan take a huge bite with all the fixins on the spoon. You could sense the awkwardness when he turned away.

“Stop staring at me,” he mumbled with cheeks full of rice.

“Not until you tell me what you think.”

“Well, of course it tastes good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now stop looking at me, I’m not your zoo animal.”

A huge sigh of relief escaped you and a heavy weight off your chest was relieved. Something about cooking for new people always made you want to pass out, but if both your best friend and your best enemy admit to how good it is, maybe you’ll become more open to the idea of cooking for others more often. You DID like that huge sense of pride that rushed in.

Chan finished the bowl in two minutes. He held it up for you to take. “More, please.”

“Wow, ok.”

You were lucky enough to get a bowl yourself with Chan practically inhaling everything, and even then he still had room for dessert. It was atrocious how much a college man could eat.

“They say someone’s cooking says a lot about them,” Chan proposed while washing down his food with soda.

“They who?”

“I don’t know, the internet?” he shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? What does the internet say about a bowl of rice for dinner?”

“That you’re uptight and don’t like to have fun.”

“Hey!”

“And probably a virgin.”

Your cheeks burned an embarrassingly bright red at the proclamation. “Wh-What makes you say that!?”

“It’s a safe meal to make. You know, hard to mess up and a little simple so it’ll always taste good?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Where’s the excitement, _____? The improvisation!?”

“There’s not much room to improv in cooking, Christopher.”

“Don’t you want to live a little? Have some spontaneity?”

“Are we still talking about my cooking or…?”

“No, dumbass, I mean your life, too!” Chan hopped up from his chair and took your hand to twirl you around the kitchen like the scene in Beauty and the Beast. Oh God, you hoped you didn’t accidentally poison him or that he was having a weird allergic reaction to sesame, or something. “Have some fun for once!”

You somehow broke away from the hypnotic dance and stood as far away from that crazy man as possible. “Don’t act like you know me all of a sudden because you read some corny Buzzfeed article about a fucking bowl of rice and meat, Bang Chan!”

“What do you mean, I’ve come to know you for a whole semester.”

“A whole semester of being blacked out.”

“Hey, that means nothing!”

“Ok. Tell me one thing you know about me from a whole semester of being unconscious on my couch.”

“You have an in-depth skin care routine.”

“Anyone can guess that.”

“From the books you have lying around and a few paintings on the wall, you dabble in that horoscope bull shit.”

“So do a lot of girls, next.”

“You like heart and star-shaped marshmallows in your hot cocoa.”

You’ll admit that one had you silent for a moment. Only Yeri knew about that, but that was because those were the only marshmallows you bought specifically for hot cocoa. They add a little pizazz to your drink, especially with the edible glitter. “That doesn’t count, there’s no other marshmallow in the apartment.”

“True,” he began, pointing an accusing finger at you. “But you like a whole handful of marshmallows in your mug.”

“... S-So -”

“Ah ha, got one!” 

“So what, a ton of people like marshmallows!”

“Yeah, but not pink hearts and purple stars ones!”

“How do you even know that?”

“Hm. I think it was the night of Hongjoong’s birthday. Yeah, I passed out, woke up, whined to Yeri, and she made me hot cocoa and said, ‘Do you care if the marshmallows are shaped like hearts and stars?’ And I said, ‘I ONLY want hearts and stars’.”

A shy smile spread across your lips. It’s moments like these when you weren’t chewing his ear off that he finds you a little cute. Just a little.

“Is there a reason for those specific marshmallows?” he asked.

“They’re cute,” you pouted.

“Well, do I get a prize for knowing one thing about you?”

“Yeah, doing the dishes.”

“What!?”

“I cooked now you clean!” you said before running off to your room.

A tired, but willing Chan dragged his feet to the sink. He could just throw all of the dishes in the dishwasher, but somehow hand-washing while reminiscing about all the Fridays he’s crashed here with you barking like a chihuahua the next morning was much more fun.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much by the end of that night.

--

A virgin… How the hell does cooking a bowl of rice for your roommate somehow make you a virgin!?

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the most outstanding meal you’ve ever made or could have cooked for him, but that ungrateful man who couldn’t even fry an egg shouldn’t be so picky!

But why, of all the insults and swears he’s ever thrown at you, was virgin the one that hit you the most?

Who cares if you were or weren’t one! What difference did that make you as a person, right!? At first glance, of course no one would be able to tell whether you were or weren’t one, but what did that say about people who did know you, like Chan and Yeri? Was that the kind of vibe you gave off? Were you too goody-goody, too play-by-the-rules? Was Chan right when he said your life lacked that spark, that spontaneity he seemed to so-crave?

Now that you thought about it, you haven’t gone out on a date or even found someone remotely interesting in a very long time… Since your first year of college at the very least.

Maybe you should show him how spontaneous you could get.

“That’s another thing I noticed last semester,” Chan’s charming accent shook you from your thoughts. You looked to the boy intruding in your room who leaned against the door frame, once again in only his pajama pants and a wet towel slung over his neck to barely cover his torso. He was built like he was carved from the finest slab of marble - how was his skin so white and smooth? “You tend to space out a lot, especially when you’re working on something.”

“How can you tell?”

“You get that dumb look on your face.”

“You mean the same one you have on all the time?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Thank you. What are you getting all dressed up for on a Tuesday night?”

“Miyeon said she was coming over like, ten minutes ago and I felt musty, so here I am, half naked in front of your door like this is the greatest dream you’ve ever had.”

“Is that the cheerleader from your game last weekend?” Chan hummed as a response, drying his hair with the towel around his neck and a toothbrush in his mouth. “Is she your girlfriend?”

You heard him choke on the toothpaste. “God, no, why do you think that?”

“I mean she kissed you… ?”

“Eh, it’s kind of an on-again-off-again thing, but nothing was ever official between us.” A sudden realization hit Chan and then that sly smirk that loved to tease you came back to haunt you. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of some cheerleader who’s clearly in love with a man who has no interest in her while he lives with another woman?” you scoffed. “Green with envy.”

“At least I have someone in my life!” he called from the bathroom.

That, too, hit a little too close to your heart. He was right - at least he had someone who kept him company, who adored him, who he could go out on dates with… And what did you have? A lousy roommate who uses your body wash.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked after coming back fully clothed. Your bed was much softer than Yeri’s, who had a rock hard firm mattress. Perhaps Chan should take his naps here instead.

“Nothing. What is there to do on a Tuesday night?”

“Lots of things! It’s Taco Tuesday at that food truck on campus, it’s Tteokbokki Tuesday at that Auntie’s restaurant by the bookstore, ooh and the record store down the street gives out free seltzer water for the hipsters.”

“Is that what you and Miyeon are doing tonight?”

“No, she just wanted to make-out I think.”

“How romantic…”

Chan laid on your bed and kept his thoughts to himself for a while. Somehow after only a few weeks of living together did you tolerate his presence enough to not nag him to get out of your room, let alone off your bed. While you studied the infinite pages of words in your textbook, Chan was able to steal a few glances. The way your brows furrowed in frustration, the messiness of your hair, the slight pout in your lips, it was all quite cute for someone as grouchy as yourself. Although he supposed he’d be an asshole, too, if he was studying seven days a week. You must be tired and frustrated.

Without you paying attention, he whipped out his phone and texted his date.

“Darn,” he sighed convincingly. “Miyeon just cancelled on me.”

“Good for her.”

“Well, now that I’m free, it looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Sike, I have some homework to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chan hopped off the bed and peaked over your shoulder at your homework. He was so close that you could smell his woodsy cologne. You kind of liked it. Kind of. “Homework that’s due on Friday? God, _____, at least try to be cool, you nerd.”

“Hey!”

“Get dressed, those tacos and tteokbokki won’t be piping hot forever ~”

“I’m not going!” you tried to argue, but that annoying boy was already out of your room and putting his shoes on. Evil chuckling could be heard from the living room - what a weirdo. As your stomach violently growled, it was really hard to resist such a tempting offer of food, even if it meant going with Chan.

An impatient roommate danced his way to exit. “I’m walking out the door ~”

“Chill, will you?” you mumbled while throwing on your coat. “How are you going to invite me and then abandon me?”

“Then move faster.”

“You move faster…”

“Ah ~” Chan pinched your cheek lightly. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, with trying to kick up the spontaneity in your life and what-not.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a cold Tuesday night and you almost heavily regret wanting to be spontaneous and cute and uncaring, all because a soundcloud rapper called you a virgin. But the thought of a hot cup of spicy rice cakes was enough for you to travel through the polar vortex. It helped that you weren’t the only one suffering.

“All those nights I crashed on your couch, I’d always buy a cup of this gold before heading over,” Chan admitted. “It was a shame for the days I threw it up.”

“Ah, no wonder your puke is red! I thought you were always almost dying.”

“Sometimes I wished I was.”

Of course the auntie knew Chan by the amount of times he’s stumbled upon the place drunk off his ass (“Wow, you’re walking straight and talking in sentences today!” “Ha ha, auntie…”). The fiery cup of rice cake was the perfect hand-warmer.

“Do I not give off the virgin vibe yet?” you half-joked.

A charming burst of laughter came from your annoying roommate. How could he forget that he called you that! “You’re not hung up on that, are you?”

“I just… I mean, do you think that’s the reason why…” you struggled to speak your insecurities into existence because once you did, that meant they were real and totally holding you back.

“Why what?”

“Tell me something - am I really that uptight? Does it make me seem… I don’t know, unapproachable? Unlikable, even?”

“Please, you are totally uptight.” A loud, unladylike groan echoed throughout the crowded streets of campus. “Unapproachable, yes. Unlikable? I mean, not necessarily? Some guys think that’s hot.”

“So what you’re saying is I’ll be single forever or marry some pushover.”

“Hey, don’t put words into my mouth! Look, if you really want to change how your aura appears to people, you already have! You’re out on a Tuesday night eating rice cakes with the sexiest guy you know. That’s progress in my book, all thanks to me.”

“Somehow you’ve turned my insecurities into praising yourself.” It was impressive, honestly. “You’re something else, Christopher.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s next on our impromptu tour of the town?”

“Ya like vinyl?”

“Huh?”

Chan said nothing else as he cut you off and walked right into the record shop and low and behold, potential buyers were holding skinny cans of flavored seltzer.

“C’mon, princess, there’s not enough seltzer for everyone!” Chan urged.

The vastness and number of collections of the record shop rivaled the local book shop down the street. Although much noisier and haphazard, the concept was still the same and the neon signs and signed posters gave the shop quite the personality. Actually, it was almost as if it was Chan personified. 

In front of you was a basketball-loving ear-pierced punk-ass roommate who wore leather jackets in sub-freezing temperatures and didn’t know how to fold his laundry flipping through the Wu-Tang Clan basket. And there was you, the personified small local bookstore, watching him longingly and wishing you could be like him, who was cool enough to attract other cool people and be someone so approachable and likable. He was the complete opposite of you, and yet somehow you’re both here together, acting like you never had to kick his ass for using your toothbrush four too many times.

How was it possible to think that one day, someone could be in love with a plain and boring bookstore like yourself? Could someone like Chan love someone like you one day?

You hoped so.

Chan wondered where you were and found you looking at him with tired eyes. Of all the things to look at, you somehow could only look at him. With his dimply smile, he said, “Falling in love with me?”

Something made you want to say yes. “Did you find something you like?”

He silently gestured to you to come over with a lazy hand. As expected, he pulled out one of the Wu-Tang Clan records and played it on one of the modern record players that had one set of headphones at the station.

“Here, put these on,” he instructed while putting the over-ear headphones on. A smooth and unique rap style voiced over the equally-smooth instrumentals. It was unlike anything you’ve heard before. Perhaps Chan’s intellectual layers lied within his knowledge in music.

A slight pressure pressed against your right ear. You couldn’t see from your peripherals, but you could smell Chan’s rustic cologne again, and that itself already made you blush deeper shades of red than you could ever imagine. Since there was only one set of headphones, Chan obviously had no other choice but to listen to this track with you like this - invading your space bubble and making you weak in the knees.

“Do you like it?” you could barely hear.

“I do,” you replied. The song wouldn’t be over for another two minutes and Chan refused to move. “Is this what you like?”

“It’s inspirational to me.” The vibrations of his voice almost sent you into shock because wow, was he close to you or what.

He knew you were nervous. He could tell simply by how your shoulders squared the moment his ear pressed on the outside of the headphones. That’s yet another detail he’s come to notice while crashing on your couch and living with you. Whether you were nervous because he was shirtless after coming out of the shower or you were annoyed because he’d eaten all of the ice cream you were saving in the back corner of the freezer, you always straightened your posture upon seeing him because God forgive you ever show any emotion. Why were you like those stuck-up librarians at the hipster bookstores down the street who turned a blind eye to anyone who didn’t look like they read books?

Or maybe, just maybe, you were liking this. You liked being in close proximity to the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. You liked the almost-but-not-really skinship you almost-but-not-really shared. You were nervous, not annoyed, weren’t you? Or were you annoyed that you’re nervous around your most hated enemy?

Either way, Chan wins, and that’s all that mattered to him.

You spent most of the spontaneous night in the record store listening to soul, trot, pop punk, underground hip-hop, and everything in between. Quite literally in-between, as Chan would not stop pressing his face to yours because he refused to find a second pair of headphones for him to borrow.

“Stop doing that!” you whined for the fifth time.

“I wanna listen, too ~”

“Then go steal another set of headphones!”

“But I like this. It’s way more fun. And your cheeks are so hot that the radiated heat is warming my face up.”

You’re silent at that point forward because your cheeks thought their purpose in life was to burn as hot as the sun and serve as a radiator to intrusive boys who wanted nothing more than to listen to good music with you.

Honestly, what’s there to complain about?

The record store didn’t close until midnight and you practically stayed until then. At that point, Chan with his black hole for a stomach was hungry again and led you to the taco truck he talked about earlier.

“Is it Taco Tuesday still if it’s past midnight?” you wondered.

“It’s still Tuesday until the sun comes up in my books.”

Tacos weren’t exactly an easy-to-eat street food, so you used the tin foiled rolls as hand warmers until you were back in the comfort of your kitchen where you could happily eat greasy tacos with your sworn enemy.

“What do midnight tacos say about me now?” you questioned the food and vibe expert across the table.

“They say you like cliches and you care a little too much about what people think of you.”

“How the hell did you come up with that?”

“Please, Taco Tuesday is so cliche! And you conformed to it because you want to seem more playful and less of a stick-up-your-ass, am I right?”

The pout on your lips was enough of an answer. “Now I feel like a virgin in sheep’s clothing.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere.”

“Do you think I’m more likable this way?”

Perhaps Chan was a little harsh with his words the one night you cooked for him. He thought he would be able to know you front and back after nearly a month of living together, but it seemed that he was farther away from that than he thought. After all this time, he thought you didn’t care one bit about how people perceived your feisty self. Maybe instead you cared too much and you had built a wall to prevent others like Chan from knowing.

“You were always likable,” he admitted honestly.

“Please stop lying,” you groaned.

“I mean it! Even when you were yelling at me or trying to kick me off the couch or stealing back the food I was trying to eat, I never hated you. It was so much fun messing with you because you were not afraid to cuss me out.”

“And that makes me likable how?”

Chan shrugged. “I have fun when I’m around you. Do you think I would have kept coming back to crash here if I hated you?”

“Yeah, to torture me.”

“Well, to clear things up, I don’t hate you. And I bet my bottom dollar that you don’t hate me, either.”

“Sike.”

“You’re telling me you still hate me after the fun we had tonight? Or the night you watched me play and cooked for me? Or even the one night after Lucas’s Halloween party when I passed out here even though your heater was broken and you wrapped me up in your fuzzy blanket?”

Another blush spread across your cheeks. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget the first night you showed me any compassion?”

“Fine, you’re right, I don’t hate you… You’re, in fact, quite tolerable.”

Who knew Chan’s eyes could light up so brightly at such a mediocre compliment, if you’d even call it one. “You like me ~”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna fall in love with me ~”

“Chan -”

“I bet you already have ~”

“Ok, I’m going to bed.”

“No, you aren’t!”

You tried to run out of the kitchen and into your room to lock the door, but Chan got to you just as you reached the living room. He entrapped you with his big, strong arms and held you in a suffocating hug, drowning out his giggles with your screaming. Your resistance was strong, but you were smiling brighter than he’d ever seen before. Today was a long day for both of you and the moment Chan rested his chin on your shoulder was when you stopped struggling to break free. His tufts of chestnut hair and slow breathing tickled your cheeks.

“Oi, wake up,” you demanded, hitting his forearms.

That only made him hold you tighter. “No.”

You stopped fighting him and let the poor boy rest on your shoulder. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“No. We’re just two roommates fighting, right?” he teased, shaking you in his arms.

“Yeah, fighting.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Please.”

His giggle rang in your ear and made goosebumps travel throughout your skin. Then Chan did what spontaneous Chan does and surprised you by kissing your cheek with a loud, moist, audible smooch.

“A-Ah, Chan!!” you gasped.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

Before you could scold him further, he had already let go and went to his room. How long was he holding you? Because now you’re left stunned in the living room feeling the cold from the draft of your windows. Your cheek felt like it had been branded by his soft rose petal lips. It burned so much that you ended your night lying in bed staring at the ceiling cupping the tainted cheek.

“I hate him,” you mumbled to no one. Your words hold zero weight the moment you screamed into your pillow.

--

The first couple of days after the incident were a little weird, to put it simply. You circled back to your old habits of avoiding him and keeping conversations short and that didn’t slip past Chan for even a couple of hours. At first, he thought he might have ruined whatever weird friendship you had together, but the way you avoided him was not how it used to be.

You were embarrassed - dare he say even shy. Your avoidance held no malice and didn’t feel icy as it did last semester. Rather, you fled because you felt vulnerable. Your words were no longer full of insults, but instead were soft and sprinkled with stutters. It was like a scene from a drama set in high school where the cute shy nerd has a massive crush on the super sexy jock and won’t admit her feelings because she doesn’t think she has a chance. And knowing you, you would never admit to having feelings, so how was Chan supposed to get a confession out of you?

Cornering you was the only option he thought could work, but sadly that didn’t.

“Chan, c’mon, I have to use the bathroom,” you whined on the other side of the door.

He didn’t say a word when the door opened and steam spilled out into the halls. Yet again was he dressed only in his pajama bottoms and a towel around his neck, hair still damp and hanging loosely over his eyes. He took a step forward and you’re given no choice but to back up.

“What are you -”

You cut yourself off when your back hit the wall and Chan had you in the palm of his hands. Proximity was close to nothing as your toes touched and you could smell your body wash from his freshly-washed chest. Seriously, he still used your body wash!?

“C-Can I use the bathroom or what…” you stuttered.

He stared right in your eyes, then admired your cute nose, and finally down to your lips. He was teasing you! Like, actually teasing! He’s making you think that he wanted to kiss you! All of the possibilities of him making a move on you were just as equal as him not going through with it and your mind was racing like crazy and it was really starting to stress you out! Why, why was it stressing you out!?

Then he took a huge step back to let you through.

“All yours,” he whispered.

Well, that sort of worked… You didn’t say a verbal confession, but your face sure showed it. But no, that wasn’t enough. He needed to hear you say it. He had to do more, and he knew exactly what to do to push your limits.

For the whole week, whenever you did something for him whether it was answering a simple question or giving him a plate of whatever you cooked for dinner, Chan would kiss your cheek. That’s right, those soft rose petal lips would every-so slightly graze your cheeks almost everyday and even when you tried to scold him or fight back, you didn’t, as if you were stunned frozen every single time. This of course scared Chan - no emotion meant uncertainty on his end. Well, did you like it, or not!?

At some point, after a whole week of cheek kisses, you kind of… got used to it. Got used to the damn kisses, his flirtatious winks, the invasion of your space bubble, eating all of your food, using all of your bath products, taking unsolicited naps on your bed while you studied, all of it! You’ve gotten used to being around the man that is Bang Chan and you would almost admit that you liked being around him… almost.

And neither of you spoke up about it.

So… what were you two…? That’s right, you’re asking yourself the infamous ‘so what are we’ question - it’s really reached that point. No longer were you enemies or just plain roommates living separate lives, and of course you two weren’t dating, either. So did you consider him a friend? Sure, I mean you wouldn’t cook dinner for just anyone, right? But everything Chan did was not what normal friends do. At least in your experience - who knows if he’s doing this type of stuff to his other ‘friends’, like Miyeon.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you were almost convinced whatever relationship they had was over when she called off their date that one Tuesday - until Friday night.

The night was still young when you arrived home to your roommate mixing and playing with some beats over those impossibly loud speakers. It’s been a long week dealing with school work on top of figuring out your conflicting feelings of the boy in the next room and a quiet night without any games from Chan would be ideal, but life never worked out for you in that way, did it?

“Welcome home, darling ~!” he greeted playfully over the blasting bass before turning it down. “Cookin’ anything for dinner?”

The tiredness in your sigh didn’t go unnoticed. “Nah, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I might do delivery if you’re up for that?”

The charming man came out of the room all dressed up like he was planning on going out and not coming back for the night. “That’s ok, I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Miyeon’s taking me out to one of her friend’s birthday bash, or whatever rich girls like to do, before we all go out tonight.”

Miyeon, the gorgeous cheerleader. Somehow, you’ve completely forgotten her existence. Of course they were still talking, idiot! How could you even think that you could compete with someone like her?

“Are you her date?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to know the answer.

“If that’s what she’s callin’ it, I guess so.” Chan adjusted his shirt collar and unbuttoned the top. “Do I look good?”

“Do you not consider her your date?”

“Not really. All I have to do is sit and look pretty.”

“You don’t think she’s asking you because she likes you?”

“Please, she probably only asked me because Mingyu said no.”

“Chan, you don’t know that for sure.”

You began to feel his frustration when he threw his hands in the air in disbelief. The truth hurts, doesn’t it? “Why are you so hung up about this? Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t!” you said a little too defensively. “I just don’t think you’re being fair.”

“How?”

“What if she really likes you? What if she’s asking you out to this thing because she wants you to know that? If she does like you, can you even say that you like her back?”

“Tch, no.”

“Then why even bother going and leading her on!?”

“Who said I’m leading her on? I’m just keeping her company!”

“What, so you’re going to have your arm around her waist, look into each others’ eyes and kiss and it’s going to mean nothing!?” At this point, you were screaming before you knew it. “Because that’s what you two normally do, right? Kiss each other like it means nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means, nothing! I -” Chan sighed heavily. “Ok, it does sound a little ridiculous when I say it out loud, but I promise it doesn’t mean anything! Wait a minute, why am I even explaining myself to you? Are you jealous, or something?”

No, you’re not jealous. You’re angry that Chan was that kind of guy who played with women like they were toys or little pawns on a cheap chess set. You’re angry that you were one of them.

“Have fun tonight,” you said flatly, retrieving to your room.

“_____, wait.” You didn’t wait and instead locked your bedroom door. “Fuck.”

Well, Chan’s End Game plan to get you to confess out of jealousy backfired badly. The party wasn’t even real! Dammit, now where was he supposed to go looking like this!?

A small lightbulb went off in his head. Off to the grocery store!

Maybe going to your room was a terrible idea because now you were left to reflect on how you poorly reacted. You had your strong points about how Chan didn’t know how Miyeon truly felt about him, but the flipside was that she could have felt the same - that she was just using Chan as some accessory and he was totally ok with that. Who were you to judge the weird mutualistic relationship that they had as head cheerleader and captain of the basketball team? The concept seemed corny and straight out of a teen movie, but perhaps those movies weren’t too far off base as you thought.

You’re also left to reflect on what he said before you stormed off into your room - were you jealous? At first, your anger could easily be mistaken for jealousy, but what was the truth? Of course you’re furious that Chan played these stupid fucking games with you! But you’d be less mad if you were the only one he cared to fool around with. 

You finally left the room around an hour after your sulking to bump into Chan’s rock-hard chest.

“Jesus Christ!” you screamed. “Chan, what the hell!” 

“Sorry, I was about to knock!”

“What are you doing right in front of my room, you werido!?”

The cheeky, dimply boy held up a paper bag. “Buzzfeed said people who like desserts are emotionally-driven and a little cold-hearted, but sweet as sugar once they get their fix.”

“Buzzfeed said that or YOU said that?”

“Both.”

You shook your head tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I lied. I don’t have some extravagant party to go to tonight. I haven’t texted Miyeon in weeks.”

“What? Then why did you…?”

“I had this dumb idea that you would confess your undying love for me if I somehow made you jealous. Clearly that didn’t work.”

“You’re right, you’re dumb ideas never work.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that! Fine, let me try Plan B. Let me know it it’s also dumb.”

“Gladly.”

“_____, I like you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Y-You what?”

“I like you. A lot. Since you threw that blanket over me that one night last semester and I knew you didn’t truly hate my guts after all. And then I got to live with you - to witness your multi-faceted personality, to talk with you, and to get you to laugh at my dumb jokes and cheek kisses. Tell me, _____, am I dumb for falling for you like this?”

“Well… I’d say yes, but that would admit I’m stupid, too.”

“Oh?” He smirked playfully, taking a step forward. “And that’s because…?”

You mumbled something incoherent. Then, Chan dropped the bag of desserts and scooped you in his arms again, nuzzling his nose in all the ticklish places on your neck.

“Chan, stop!” you giggled.

“Hm? What was that?” he asked. “I can’t hear you ~”

“I like you!”

Finally, he stopped, lifting his head to look at you but keeping you safe in his arms. “Do you? I mean, really, do you?”

“I like you. Surprisingly a lot. And I hate it.”

“Music to my ears, baby,” he grinned. He buried his face once more to flower you with cheek kisses. “Say it again.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Please ~” his kisses trickled down to your neck.

“It tickles!” you giggled some more. “If I say it, you gotta stop.”

“As much as that burdens me, fine.”

“I like you, Bang Chan.”

“See? Doesn’t that confession feel great? Like a huge weight lifted off your chest?” He pulled you in closer, to which you oblige and it only made his ego bigger and his heart beat faster. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” you sighed dreamily.

“Would you like dessert to commemorate this beautiful union, my love?”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Will you kiss me first?”

You pulled on his shirt collar to bring him down for a long, deep kiss that Chan thought he could only ever dream about. It left him dizzy and a little light headed and the way you break the kiss to let your sweet lips linger so closely was torturous and almost had him begging for more. Almost. Bang Chan did not beg.

“Whoa,” he sighed breathily.

“That’s what you get for the past couple of weeks.”

“Ah yeah, I suppose I deserve that…”

You left the stunned Chan to go ahead into the kitchen. “Let’s go, lover boy. I want some ice cream, please.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

--

EPILOGUE

“You two are what!?”

You and Chan looked at each other with fear written on both of your faces. Yeri was on the other end on speakerphone screaming curse words and ‘are you kidding me’s and ‘I fucking knew this would happen’s.

“Yeah, we’re uh, kind of dating now,” Chan repeated bravly.

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing! This is disgusting!! _____, what do you have to say for yourself, you hypocritical piece of poo!”

“I have nothing to say, I am just as ashamed as you are.”

Chan nudged you playfully. “Hey, we’re in this together, you know!”

“Ugh, I hate how I have to support this!” Yeri whined and cried and sobbed. “Just… Just don’t do it on my bed!”

“Don’t worry, apparently to Chan I’m a huge virgin because I know how to cook.”

“I was kidding!! And that’s gonna change now that I’m here -”

“Oh, gross! Stop! Please stop!” Yeri groaned. “I hate you both, I’m gonna kick your asses when I come back!”

“Love you too, Yer-bear,” you and Chan said in unison.

[sky-writes-daydreams]

Fictober Day Five

Hi! Sorry. I’m a day behind. Yesterday was my mom’s birthday! But I’m back!

Prompt number:Five

Fandom: Sk8 The Infinity

Rating: E For Everyone!

Warnings/Tags: Fluff.

Reki’s mom finds out that Langa and him are more than just friends.

“Reki…”

“Shut up….”

“Reki.”

“No!” Joe sighed as he sat next to the kid. He was face down at the Bar in his restaurant. Langa was close by just smiling.

“Reki…”

“What…???”

“She really didn’t know?”

“None of them did!!” He looked up then. He was completely red and still completely frustrated.

“I didn’t tell anyone about us… Joe and Cherry knowing? Yeah sure. BUT MY MOM!?” He groaned then smacking his head into the bar.

“I don’t know how I can ever go home now…” Joe chuckled then patting his back gently.

“I’m sure she’ll be ok with it.”

“I don’t know… And your mom saw too!”

“Hm? Oh my mom found out weeks ago. She’s just glad I’m happy.”

“WAIT YOUR MOM KNOWS!?” Reki shot up then stunned. Langa nodded.

“I told her before you came over to dinner. That you were my boyfriend.”

“Oh my god… and you didn’t tell me!?”

“Why would I? She’s fine with it.” Langa smiled then.

“She’s even ok with the skating thing even if I do come home bandaged like a mummy.” Joe smiled then before feeling the vibrations. Reki looked over and froze.

“Mom…” Joe smiled and answered it on Speaker.

“Reki…?”

“Um…”

“He can hear you. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh.. Um hello. Who is this?”

“A friend.”

“Well hello! Um, if Reki can hear me… Let him know it’s ok. I’m sure he had his reasons for hiding it from me but I don’t care who he dates. Just as long as he’s happy.” Reki looked at the phone then as I smiled.

“He heard you ma’am.”

“Oh well, good. Langa is always welcomed at the house. And he can still spend the night as well. Nothing’s going to change.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Langa says happily.

“Oh hi Langa! I’m guessing my boy is having a bit of a meltdown?”

“A bit. But it’ll be ok. Thank you… I’m sure he needed to hear that.”

“I think so. Be careful tonight while you two are out ok? Cops are patrolling a lot more so don’t get arrested!”

“You got it ma’am.” I smiled then before she hung up.

“Well… I’m not gonna say I told you so… But…”

“Don’t even start…” Joe started laughing then as Reki just hugged Langa. Langa smiled happily before kissing Reki on the cheek.

“Come on… We’ve still gotta get our boards ready for tonight.”

“Yeah… Are you still ok being our Ride Joe?”

“Always kiddos. Let me finish cleaning up.”

“Thanks…” Joe nodded, getting up as they got Reki’s toolkit out to do a bit of work on the boards. He can’t help but smile. It’s always a good night when he gets to see a happy ending. He always knew their parents would accept them though. They just made each other better in any way possible.

[something-tofightfor]

Third Time’s the Charm (1)

Pairing: Logan Delos x Mrs. Delos (HCtS)

Word Count: 5256

Rating: M (language, mentions of sex, talk of past drug use)

Author’s Note: I’ve had this one sitting in my Google Docs for a while, and since it went with today’s @benbarnesbirthdayparty​ prompt, I figured I’d post it. Day 2: Interview (Thanks to @padfootagain​ for hosting!) This story takes place in the Here Comes the Sun AU, and is the result of the bet from Hands to Yourself. A lot of you have asked what the bet was... and this is the answer. I need to get back to writing these two. I miss them.  There will be a second part to this - but it’s not written yet. 

Summary: You and Logan are in Hawaii and getting ready to talk to the press... but what’s it all about? 

“You sure you wanna do this?” Glancing up, you met his eyes through the mirror and nodded without pause. “It -”

 “Too late to back out now, Lo.” You shrugged your shoulders, turning in the chair to hook your elbow over the back of it. “Besides, maybe giving them something will …” You trailed off, pushing your lower lip out in thought. “Maybe it’ll get them to back off.” He laughed, stepping fully into the room and shaking his head. “What?” 

 “You know as well as I do we could invite them into our bedroom and they’d find something to pick apart.” Logan settled on the edge of the bed, reaching over to pick his phone up. “We’ve gotta be over there in about fifteen minutes, are you absolutely sure?”  You watched your husband, eyes moving over his frame, and smiled. I am.

 “Lo?” He looked up and you nodded. “I don’t want to share you with anyone, not… not like that, but… there’s nothing I can do about this.” You gestured to the room you were sitting in, to yourself, and then to him. “A bet’s a bet, right?” He smiled at you, his eyes warm. “We’ve never let cameras into our relationship before, not like… not like this, and…” You looked down, taking a deep breath. “It’s for a good cause, and this way, we can control it.” 

 “Alright, then.” He stood, swallowing. “Get dressed, and we’ll go.” He turned away from you and crossed the room again, sticking his phone into his pocket. “And then we’re gettin’ a drink.” 

--- 

 Twenty minutes later you and Logan were seated on the outdoor daybed of the Four Seasons’ Kapiha’a Presidential Suite, the sound of the ocean reaching your ears. Logan’s arm was around your shoulders, his fingers lazily drifting over your skin as you watched a man scramble to set up a camera across from you, adjusting the height. “We should go snorkeling sometime, Logan.” Your eyes were out over the water, and he turned his head to follow your gaze. If that’s what you want. He’d been all for giving you whatever you wanted - basically since the moment he’d met you - but this was something that he wasn’t sure about. No, that’s not true. He had no issue with the trip itself; the reason behind your weeklong excursion to Hawaii had been his idea, but it was what you’d asked of him while you were there that he was having trouble with. 

 You were right when you’d said that the two of you had been careful when it came to letting the general public into your relationship. Sure, people took pictures, you did interviews, you’d gone to events with him. But that was all public, and it came with being a Delos, with working at Delos - with being on the arm of someone like him. But this is ours, this is… He shook his head, leaning down to kiss you on the shoulder, teeth grazing the skin there. “If you want.” Logan straightened up and followed the cameraman with his eyes, attention only pulled away when the man and woman that would be interviewing you stepped out of the hotel room and took their places across from you. Here we go. He leaned back, rolling his neck out and felt as you moved your hand from your lap onto his leg, squeezing his bare knee. Let’s get this over with. 

 “Good morning.” The woman smiled brightly at the two of you and Logan fought to keep from rolling his eyes, knowing that you were being recorded. “I’m Melanie and this is Andrew, and we’ll be handling the interview with the  two of you today, Mr. and Mrs. Delos. First of all, we want to thank both of you for agreeing to this.” You grinned next to him, nudging Logan with your shoulder, and he curled his fingers against your arm. “Are you enjoying Hawaii so far? You’ve been here for a few days, and the weather’s been incredible.” 

 “I am.” You shifted, tilting your head. “I’ve never been here before, and it’s been a lot of fun to see everything. Lo and I have…” You laughed. “We’ve spent a lot of time out of the hotel, and that’s rare for us.” You’d told him that you wanted to be candid with the interview, but being that candid surprised Logan. Maybe it shouldn’t, though. When he’d agreed to your request, he’d told you that he would follow your lead, but you talking about your bedroom habits- even without going into detail - without prompting, wasn’t expected. So I guess that’s not off the t… damn. “Our friends and family just got here today, so it’s been nice to have some time to ourselves.” 

 “Yeah, we’re always busy in LA, since we’re working so much.” Logan shrugged, feeling himself relax slightly. “We actually haven’t gone on a real honeymoon yet, so this is…” He glanced over at you, seeing that you were staring at him. “This is perfect.” 

 “Yeah, I guess we should start there.” She leaned forward, notebook in her hands as the man next to her sat back, watching. “The two of you have had two weddings already, only about a month apart. And you’ve kept them very private.” Logan nodded. “So why… six months after the second are you having a third… and inviting us to document it?” She furrowed her brow, looking between the two of you, and Logan waited, seeing what you would say. 

 “Logan’s life has alway been …” You squeezed his leg. “.. a topic of conversation.” He heard you sigh. “When we met, I didn’t know who he was, and I think that he appreciated that, because it meant he didn’t have to live up to any sort of expectation with me.” That’s true. “So as we got to know each other, it was important to me to keep from… I don’t know, trying to flaunt our relationship? He’s a Delos, and that’s not going to change, and he has a past, but why… why is it anyone’s business where he and I go on a date, or who we have dinner with or when he proposes to me?” 

 “Look.” He leaned forward, pulling his arm away from your shoulders and dropping his hand to cover yours. “I proposed in Vegas, and we got married less than 12 hours later with two people there, because we wanted to and we didn’t want to wait.” She nodded, scribbling in her notebook, but looking back at Logan. “We had the second wedding in LA a month later for our friends and family, because both of us wanted the people we care about to be there.” 

 “And this one… this one is because Logan’s actually…” You turned your head to look at him and Logan couldn’t help doing the same, meeting your eyes and refusing to look away. Tell them. “Logan’s actually a lot different than people think he is.” You finished your sentence in a way that he was almost positive you hadn’t intended to, but as he watched you, the way your lips twitched into a small smile, he couldn’t help himself, leaning in to kiss you. I am. But only because of you. “Lo.” You laughed and pushed him away from you gently, shaking your head. “We made a bet a few weeks ago, which…” You lowered your head and shook it. “Which led to some questions.” It sure did. 

 “Yeah, there was a period of time when it seemed like the two of you were drifting apart, right before James Delos’ birthday party.” The woman was writing again, eyes on her paper, even as she spoke. “Weren’t going to work together, were spending nights apart, were…”

 “We were trying to prove a point,” Logan replied, reaching up to run his left hand through his hair. “And we did exactly that… but everyone got it wrong” 

 “How so?” The man on the couch spoke up for the first time, and Logan’s eyes went to him. “What point?” 

 “The point is that just because people see something, doesn’t mean they know what’s going on.” You crossed your legs at the knee, voice even. “Logan and I shouldn’t have to explain anything to people - ones that we actually know or the ones that think they know us.” And yet that’s what we’ve been doing for years. “Just because we’re newlyweds, just because he’s got… a reputation … it doesn’t mean that we’re going to be all over each other all the time, or just…” Not in public at least.

 “I got that out of my system well before we met.” He spoke again, feeling apprehensive. Why are we doing this? “She was always more to me than that, and even…” Logan shook his head. “We met in the Bahamas, right?” The female interviewer nodded. “During a hurricane, just by accident, and it was the…” He took a breath. “I’m not proud of the way I was, and I understand why people assume things about me, but I’m gonna draw the line when it comes to the way people think about the people I love. Especially the woman… especially my wife.” He squeezed your hand. “The first wedding was for us. The second one was for the people we care about… and this one?” Logan gestured to the island with his free hand. “This one’s for everyone else.” 

 “Can you explain that?” Melanie shook her head, reaching up to scratch her cheek. “Why it’s necessary to -”

 “Yes.” You cleared your throat. “I can.” 

--- 

 The woman’s question hadn’t surprised you, but you felt Logan’s fingers closing around yours more tightly at it, the way his voice had caught when he talked about your meeting. It’s ok, Lo. “It’s no one’s business what we do together, or how we choose to…” You licked your lips. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know how people look at Logan, and what they think of my relationship with him. It’s what they’ve always thought.” You glanced down, eyes on Logan’s fingers, which were twined with yours, your rings poking through them. “I was engaged before I met Logan, that’s no secret, and neither is the fact that I’m not someone that anyone would have guessed he’d end up with.” Why would he? 

 “There was a lot of talk about that in the beginning.” Andrew nodded and you nodded back, watching the man with interest. “You dealt with a lot of bad press, didn’t you? People saying you were just after Logan’s money, after the status, trying to change your life by elevating yourself?” That hurts to hear, I… “To be clear, I’m not saying that I assumed that, I’m just paraphrasing from the other stories that -” 

 “We’ve dealt with that a lot,” Logan replied, flipping your hand over and swiping his thumb over your palm. “And it’s not that we tried to purposely hide from people, not answering their questions or being really open with what we have, we just…” They want honesty?

 “Logan was recovering from a pretty serious court case.” You supplied the words, cutting your husband off. “He was only a couple years out from taking his position within Delos back, from proving that he belonged on the board, from… getting his life back on track, and he just… I don’t know, we didn’t feel like we needed that added pressure of opening up a new relationship to the same type of…” 

 “You wanted to be with each other without having everyone else in your relationship, too.” Both of you nodded and Melanie’s pen continued to move. “I get that, but it still doesn’t explain…” She glanced up. “Why did that matter?” Why wouldn’t it matter? You opened your mouth to speak, but Logan beat you to it. 

 “It mattered because I didn’t need reporters and photographers and people that weren’t a part of my life to watch me falling in love with her.” Logan scoffed before continuing. “They watched me at my lowest, formed an opinion of me, talked about how long it would take me to get thrown out of Delos for good, to… ruin my life, to kill m…” His lip curled, one angry shake of his head the only movement he made. “I didn’t need or want that, and so we decided that even though we couldn’t stay out of the public eye completely, we wouldn’t …” You heard the pain in his voice and leaned over, putting your head against his shoulder. 

 “We didn’t want to give you everything.” You pressed your lips together. “At the end of the day, our relationship was - is - more than gossip. We’re real people and we wanted as much privacy as possible, the way that… Juliet and William and Juliet and Mark didn’t get.” You’d asked the woman if you could mention her if it came up, and she’d been more than happy to give you permission. “She was so open when she and William were planning the wedding, and then, even when they got divorced, it was the same, people looking for things to talk about, for ammunition.” 

 “Do you think that that negatively impacted -”

 “No.” Logan laughed, shaking his head. “No, that was all Billy.” You looked over at him, worried. Don’t keep talking about him, that’s not what this is about. “But when it doesn’t seem to matter to people that I’m actually happy, or that this is a real relationship, why would I want to open myself up by saying or doing things so that people can document ‘em and then pick ‘em apart?” 

 “That’s a good point,” Andrew leaned back, nodding. “That makes a lot of sense.” 

 You talked for nearly a half hour, you and Logan fielding questions from both interviewers, referring to each other, but you were surprised that neither of them asked again about the reason that you were in Hawaii, the reason that you were doing the interview - or what had led you to that point, instead focusing on your past time together. Logan had relaxed as the interview continued, his arm going back around your shoulders, the two of you joking with each other, but you could tell that Melanie was still skeptical, still doubting the sincerity in the meeting. What are we supposed to do? You thought back to Logan’s words from earlier about inviting them into the bedroom and still finding fault with you and took a deep breath. I guess we’re going to have to... “Lo.” You turned to him, angling your body and putting your elbow on the back of the couch, grinning. “We never really explained…” 

 “Explained what?” You turned your head slightly, watching as the woman leaned forward, more interested. “I -” 

 “My wife and I are very competitive.” You heard the edge to Logan’s voice and bit back a smile. He’s going for it. “But we’re also … very stubborn.” Melanie leaned in further, her eyes moving between you and Logan quickly while Andrew leaned against his seat, holding back a smile. “We both got tired of seeing the headlines that you made up because we weren’t giving you - press and paparazzi - anything to go on… and so we made a bet.” Logan paused, giving you a chance to take over. 

 “We bet that the other person couldn’t keep their hands to themselves for ten days.” Andrew laughed and Melanie did too, her eyebrows rising. “Everyone was so quick to say that our relationship was just about the physical aspects, but we both knew that that wasn’t the case, and we still… we couldn’t help it, we just wanted to prove that…” You bit your lip and looked at Logan, seeing the warmth in his eyes. “It’s not like that, and it never will be.” 

 “Who won the bet?” Andrew tapped his fingers on the couch. “And what was the prize?”  Logan moved before you could stop him, more comfortable than he had been throughout the beginning of the morning’s interview and pulled you onto his lap, arms circling your body. 

 “We both won.” He kissed the side of your head, breath warm on your skin. “But we also both had a very different prize in mind. I wanted to marry her again, prove that I’d do it as often as it took to make people understand that it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision and I didn’t regret it for a second.” There’s more to it than that, Logan. You thought back to the conversation you’d had in Logan’s bedroom after James’ party, the way the two of you had watched the sun rise as you’d talked quietly, sweat drying on your skin. So much more. 

 “And I wanted to release pictures from the Los Angeles wedding and prove to people that it wasn’t just for show, so everyone could see Logan for what he… is and not what they assume he is.” And to show people how he looked at me that day… the way he... Your fingers wrapped around Logan’s forearm, holding him tightly. “So we compromised.” Melanie shook her head and you continued. “Logan gets to marry me for a third time, like he wants, and we’re going to release the pictures from this wedding for everyone to see, since they’re so damn curious.” 

 “Isn’t that a little counterproductive? We paid a lot for the exclusive.” Andrew cocked his head to the side and blinked. “The interview and the pictures and the inside scoop. You don’t need the money, so -”

 “Yeah, but you paid it.” Logan shifted beneath you, chest rising and falling against your back. “We set a price and you paid it fast.” When Logan’s agent had put the word out that you were shopping your third wedding as an exclusive, it had taken less than 24 hours for a deal to be in place, and only another day or so for the money to come through. Everyone wants a story. “So that tells me that you think it’s good for business, and that it’s something your readers will want to see.” Andrew nodded, though he still looked skeptical. “But you’re right, we don’t need the money.” 

 “So why -”

 “It’s going to charity.” You spoke up again, leaning away from Logan’s body slightly before your lips curved into a wide grin. “Two charities, actually. That was the second part of my ‘prize’, because I don’t know how else I can make it clearer that this has never been about money for me, never been about who Logan is or about putting myself in the public eye.” Melanie nodded her head, and you saw that the look in her eyes had changed - as had the look in Andrew’s. Good. Maybe they respect it a little more now. 

 “And.” Logan cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. The biggest thing of all. “I’m matching the price you paid for the story with a donation of my own.” At that, Melanie’s jaw dropped, her eyes snapping away from you and over to Andrew. “That’s what I thought.” Logan was nearly vibrating beneath you and you didn’t think, instead turning your head to kiss him, one hand raising to the side of his face. That’s right, Lo. It was a short kiss, but you could feel Logan’s heart beating against his ribs when you pulled back, nodding almost imperceptibly at him. “This is real.” He swallowed and you looked back at the two reporters, still sitting on the couch across from you, shocked expressions on their faces. “I won’t apologize for the way I acted before, but I’m not that person now, and I won’t ever be again.” No, you won’t. 

 --- 

 They’d asked you more questions after you’ revealed the truth to them, but Melanie and Andrew had almost been too shocked to finish the interview properly, something that had surprised Logan. “I guess,” he said, as he laid on his back on a lounge chair, one arm bent behind his head and an oversized pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. “I guess that it’s not every day that someone matches the price they paid for an interview with a donation of their own, but it’s -” 

 “It’s not the cost of the exclusive, Logan.” You were laying on your stomach next to him, back and shoulders exposed to the sun, your hair twisted into a loose knot on the top of your head. “That doesn’t matter to them, because they’re going to sell a ton of issues, and their site’s gonna be busy as hell.” Then what is it? “It’s the fact that Logan Delos, formerly one of the most eligible men on the planet has married someone like me so many times in such a short amount of time.” You turned your face toward him, squinting into the bright light as he rolled his eyes at your description of yourself. It’s the truth, Logan. “They were hoping for some sort of revelation, not just the fact that they get their exclusive because you and I made a bet that we couldn’t not fuck each other for -”

 “Like what?” He rolled onto his side to face you, taking a deep breath. “That’s not enough for them? The way they paint me in these stories, you’d think ten days would -”

 “I don’t know, like that you cheated on me and you were trying to make up for it, or that those stories were right and we needed to find a way for you to regain my trust, or that I was secretly pregnant and we were going to reveal it in that interview -”

 “None of those things would be anything I would tell thos-”

 “Exactly, Logan.” You grinned at him, pushing yourself up from the chair with both hands and sitting straight up. His eyes moved from your face down to your bikini clad body, and he couldn’t help the way he pulled his lower lip into his mouth, tongue running over the top of it. “But a couple years ago you wouldn’t have done this either, so…” You shrugged your shoulders, hands gripping the edge of the chair as you watched him. “I’m not surprised that this is the response. How many different publishers reached out to try to buy the rights to this?” He thought for a minute, still on his side. Too many. 

 “Four.” He swallowed, reaching up to push his sunglasses atop his head. “And all of  ‘em were really competitive when it came to making a deal, but…” Logan thought back to the conversations he’d had with his agent and the legal team. “We picked this one because they actively went out of their way to shit on me and Jules in the past, and I wanted to make them…” He frowned. “Think twice the next time they wanna do somethin’ like that.” He felt better once he’d said it, but Logan saw that his response hadn’t surprised you. Of course it didn’t. “But I don’t wanna talk about them anymore.” He sat up, eyes scanning the pool and the few other people that were relaxing by it. “What time are -”

 “Juliet’s going to text me once she’s done with her massage, but I think she made a reservation for eight.” You tilted your head to the side. “The restaurant closes at 9, but I guess we’re an exception, and they’re going to stay open for us or -”

 “Get used to it.” Logan cracked his neck, the sunlight feeling good on his shoulders and face, trying to keep from laughing. “Juliet doesn’t throw around the Delos name unless it’s important, but this is…” He leaned closer, reaching out to take your hand in his. “It’s only been six months for you, but you’re a Delos too, and you can… you should get used to the fact that it…” 

 “Logan, I would have been fine with eating dinner in the room with just you.” You ran a hand over his ring finger, eyes locked on the band he wore. “The whole point of this is to prove that I don’t -” 

 “I know you don’t.” He lowered his head and kissed your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your sun-drenched skin against his lips. “And I appreciate that, but I’m just saying that you need to understand that when people hear that you’re Mrs. Logan Delos,” he punctuated the last few words with kisses, moving closer to your neck with each one, his free hand resting on your thigh, “... they’ll make a lot of accommodations for you.” 

 “I’m not gonna use this to…” You hummed as he kissed your jaw, lifting your hand to rest it on his ribs. “Hey, Lo. Stop for a second.” He heard the urgency in your voice and so he listened, halting his movement and repositioning himself so that he could look into your eyes. “When we were talking to Melanie and Andrew earlier, they thought, until you said it wasn’t the case, they thought that I picked Hawaii, that I picked this resort.” He watched your eyes cloud over for a brief second, sadness in them. Stop that. “I just need you to know that I’m not... it’s not that I don’t want to say I’m a Delos, because I do. I am so fucking proud to be your wife, Logan, but it’s not about being a Delos and it never will be, it’s about being yours.” 

 “What?” He blinked slowly, pulling back even further. “Say that again.” You’d said many things that surprised him in the time you’d been together, but the simplicity of your previous words stunned him. “I don’t understand what that means, you-”

 “I would have married you, Logan, no matter what your name was or how we’d met.” You pulled your hand from his, twisting the three rings you wore on your left hand in the thumb and forefinger of your right. “You could have proposed with a… a plastic ring out of one of those quarter machines at the grocery store and I still would have said yes.” You stared at him, and he realized that you’d wanted to say these things to him plainly for months, but had held back. Why? Why now? “You could lose everything tomorrow, Logan, and I wouldn’t care, because all of this - the money and the trips and the company and the status? They’re not why I’m here, with you.” You clasped your hands together in your lap, and when you met Logan’s eyes again, he saw that you were fighting back tears. “That first wedding? In Vegas with Mark and Juliet? That’s the wedding I wish we could show people, because it’s exactly what I wanted with you.”

 “You don’t want to do this?” He was confused, brow furrowed. “You said -” 

 “No, I do. That’s not… not what I mean.” He watched you take a deep breath, tilting your head back to look up at the bright blue sky. “This isn’t us, Logan, it’s what’s expected because of who you are, but it’s not… not what I need, and not what you should expect from me in the future.” Oh. You looked back at him, chewing on your lower lip. “Everyone’s got their opinions, and I know we can’t give them everything, but I don’t want to give them the wrong idea, and I think… I think that’s what this as a venue might do, even though we’re trying to do the right thing.” 

 “I’m not givin’ anyone those pictures from Vegas.” Please understand. Please. Logan stared at you, thinking about what you were saying. “I’d do anything for you, but I won’t give them that. Those are ours, that day was ours.” He leaned in, reaching up to your face, his fingertips resting against your cheek. “They don’t get to see us like that, and I’d rather have them get everything wrong then turn that day into something it wasn’t.” It’s not theirs. “Vegas was perfect. LA was over the top, but in a good way. Tomorrow’s going to be right in the middle.” He ran his hand down your arm, fingers circling your wrist. “Might not be us, but it’s as close as we’re gonna get.” It’s as close as I want to get. “We’re doing this to shut people up, and as much as I wish it could just be us and it could just be simple all the time, that’s not going to work. Not for this.” He stood, holding a hand out to you and waiting for you to take it. “Hey.” You looked up at him, staying quiet. “You told me that you wouldn’t say no to anything I wanted after winning that bet, and if you wanna give everyone something to look at… it’s gotta be good.” 

 You finally smiled again and placed your hand into Logan’s, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “You’re right.” He tugged you against his chest and flattened both palms against your back, feeling your arms go around him. “I’m just… so many people are going to see these pictures, Logan, they’re going to watch the interview, and it’s a lot to think about. What are they going to say about my dress or my hair or my vows or…” 

 “We’ll have to wait and see.” He kissed the top of your head, tightening his arms around you. “But,” he continued, feeling himself smile. “You won’t have to wait to find out what I’m gonna say about any of those things, because you’ll know the minute I see you.” You froze in his arms, but then relaxed almost immediately, letting out a deep sigh. “We’re doing the pictures and all that bullshit for them, sure, but this wedding? Me puttin’ a ring on your finger for the third time? That’s for us.” You pulled away from him, and Logan saw the light back in your eyes. Good. “So.” Logan licked his lips, jerking his chin toward the pool behind you. “Let’s go swim for a while.” You stepped backwards as he spoke, and Logan knew he’d already won as he watched your chest rise and fall quickly. “And then we’ll go back to the room and relax before dinner.” 

 “No, we won’t, Logan, you know as well as I do that we won’t…” You trailed off as Logan ducked his head to kiss you, laughing against your lips. No, we won’t. He pushed gently on your hips and urged you closer to the water, eyes on your face. 

 “You know me too well.” Without warning, you turned away from him, feet carrying you the final few steps. And I know you. He watched as you stepped into the pool, the clear water covering your legs and then your waist, Logan waiting until you were all the way in up to your chest to follow you. As you made your way toward the center, he grinned and submerged himself after taking a deep breath, legs propelling him through the water until he surfaced right behind you, arms winding around your waist as he hugged you. “Gotcha.” His lips landed behind your ear and you laughed loudly, twisting around to face him and using both hands to push his hair up and away from his face, slicking the strands back. Both of you were breathing hard, and even though there were plenty of things that Logan wanted to say to you, he chose the only one that made sense to him - even though he’d said it to you before. “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow.” 

--- 

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[wildmichaelflower]

This is Halloween

Word count: 1.4k

Prompt: Person A's kid gets sick right before Halloween and can't go, so Person B goes for them. 

Author's Note: this was for the October fic event! I was so happy to work with other authors to produce Halloween inspired fics, and I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist for the Event!

Genre: fluff

Pairings: single parent!Michael x Single parent!reader

Your son, Xavier, had been feeling less energetic than his usual self the last few days before Halloween. You did your best to help him recover so he would be able to go out for candy that Saturday night, but on Friday he woke up with a low grade fever, and all hopes to go out were dashed. You texted his best friend's father, Michael, to let him know the two of you would not be joining him and his daughter, Quinn to trick or treat. 

Michael was disappointed, he looked forward to the four of you going out, but nothing was close to the distraught his four year old felt. 

"But we got matching costumes and everything daddy! Why can't Xavier join?!" She pouted from her car seat, Michael choosing to break the news as he drove her to daycare. 

"I know sweetheart," he sighed, "But Xavier's not feeling good, and his mommy's worried he'll feel worse if he goes out, or you'll get sick."

She maintained her pout, but nodded, beginning to understand.

"But I have an idea that will make it seem like he's with us, I just gotta talk to his mommy ok?"

She nodded, then smiled, "OK daddy! Can he still wear his Clifford costume?"

Michael chuckled, the idea of two kids running around the neighborhoods as characters from the cartoon still funny to him.

"We'll see what his mommy says ok?" He pulled into the parking lot before going to get her out, "And you're ok with him being Clifford, it is your last name." He grinned, holding her on his hip and carrying her backpack. 

"Yes daddy," she sighed dramatically, as though she's explained it too many times, "I'm a Clifford every day, so I don't need to be one for Halloween, and Emily Elizabeth has blonde hair, like us." She smiled. 

Michael smiled and nodded, reflecting on how much her daughter looked like him. She was practically a mini him, but she got her mother's dimples. He still missed his ex occasionally, but she wasn't ready for motherhood and Michael respected her wishes. It helped that she stuck to her promise to send birthday and Christmas gifts, but it was hard to explain to someone so young why they didn't have a mommy and daddy like other children. He was grateful to his friends for helping out in the early days, but when he wanted to record full time again the daycare was his saving grace. He was worried about the implications of getting Quinn a nanny, and he wanted her to have social experience with other kids her age. It was also wonderful for him to hear that many other children were in single parent homes.

That's where he met you, or rather, Quinn met Xavier and the two forced their parents to meet. It was a pleasant introduction of course, and Michael was ecstatic that his daughter had made a friend so quick. When he arrived to pick her up after her first Friday, he found her hiding under the slides with a young boy, who had a woman pleading with him to come out. 

"Xavier, please, we need to go home. I'm happy you're having fun with friends, and we'll see them on Monday, but your father will be waiting for you." 

"Nope!" The young boy crossed his arms, "Quinn said her daddy said she's staying home after today. If we don't go home the day doesn't end." 

Michael bit his lip, wondering where Quinn heard him say that and ducked almost uncomfortably low to speak to his daughter. 

"Quinn, where did you hear me say that? I said you'll stay home for the weekend, but you'll be back on Monday." 

Quinn gasped, surprised to hear her father's voice and quickly turned to him. 

"I get to come back? Really?!" She crawled out of her hiding spot before wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Yes really, silly goose." He teased and tickled her sides, lifting her as he turned to you, watching as you lifted your son to your hip, "Sorry for the trouble that caused, she sometimes half hears the conversation, a trait she unfortunately gets from me," he admitted sheepishly.

You shook your head and smiled, "No worries. This rascal always tells me how much fun he's had since your daughter started." You blew a raspberry against his cheek, grinning as he giggled at the feeling. 

Michael beamed, happy his daughter was adjusting so well, and asked to exchange numbers with you, mainly to schedule play dates. Over time, he learned you were also a single parent but remained friendly with Xavier's father, who he spent every other weekend with. Eventually, the two men met and Xavier's father was also more than happy to allow play dates between the two. 

Michael clocked his daughter in as she put her belongings in her cubby, gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, before watching her head off to play, smiling at all the kids in their costumes. Getting back in his car, he called you to explain his idea to bring Xavier trick or treating. 

The next night, Xavier was dressed in his costume laying under blankets on the couch. A day of rest did him some good, but he was not ready to go out. Luckily, Michael and Quinn would collect candy for him. When Michael called the day before, you had just gotten your son back to sleep. He explained that he could facetime with you and collect candy for Xavier, while he sat at home on the other end, allowing the children to be together that night, in a way. You thought it was brilliant, and with Xavier gaining more energy by the next morning, you knew he wouldn't be against the idea either. 

You brought him a bowl of chicken noodle soup, smiling as Michael began to facetime you. 

"Is that Quinn?" Xavier asked, small amounts of broth slipping from his mouth. 

"Yes honey," you cleaned him with a napkin before accepting the call, holding the phone so you two were in the screen. 

"Hi Xavier!" The young girl giggled excitedly, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah!" Your son smiled, "I eat soup and cuddle with my mommy." 

You smiled, seeing Michael as he held Quinn's hand but didn't interrupt the children's conversation. Soon, they approached the first house, Quinn shouting trick or treat, and Xavier echoing behind her.

"Oh my, is this Emily Elizabeth?" An older woman smiled, before turning to the phone confused, "And is that Clifford at home?"

"Yep!" Quinn smiled before explaining the situation the best way a four year old can before concluding, "And my daddys holding Xavier's bucket, and we'll drop it off when we're all done."

The woman smiled understandingly and placed a piece of candy in Quinns bucket before allowing her to take one for Xavier. 

"Careful now dear, chocolate can make dogs sick," she joked, to which Quinn giggled.

"Not this puppy! If his mommy let him he would only eat chocolate," she smiled and dropped a mini snickers into the bucket in Michaels hands. 

He cleared his throat, "What do we say now dear?" 

"Thank you!" Quinn beamed, giggling as Xavier repeated her. 

Michael and Quinn continued through his neighborhood before driving to your ex's, making the final stop your neighborhood. They didn't get too many houses, however, before Quinn was asking to be carried, and as he made his way up the steps, you laid your exhausted son into his bed. 

Michael's knock on your door brought you back to the living room, and your heart melted at the sight of a sleeping Quinn on Michael's shoulder, Michael passing you one of the two completely filled basket.

"Thank you, for making this night easier for Xavier," you smiled as you placed the basket on the entry table. 

"Of course. Halloween only comes once a year, and with modern technologies, not even illness should stop the fun." He grinned, carefully shifting Quinn. 

You nodded, "Hopefully Xavier will be better in a few days, and we can take photos of them together before he goes to his dad's."

Michael nodded, "They'll love that," he bit his lip, "and maybe on the day Xaviers back at school we can get breakfast?" 

You blushed, looking up at him, "Is that a date Michael?" 

He smiled sheepishly before nodding, "If you'd like it to be, yeah." 

"Yes, I would love to go on a date with you, as long as we dont get the bug. Theres nothing romantic about getting sick on the first date." 

He chuckled, "Yeah.. I'll be looking forward to a healthy, happy date," he winked, "but for now, I gotta get little missy here into pajamas and bed."

You laughed lightly and nodded, "drive home safe, and I look forward to seeing you next week." 

[leedongwook]

Prompt: 4 times people thought TK and Carlos are dating and 1 time they really did. ❤️

1.

TK can’t for the love of god not find his new aftershave. He looks in his room and the drawer in the hall way, it’s not there. He’s back at the bathroom again and going through the cabinet for the third time, but he can’t find it.

He sighs.

„Dad, have you seen my aftershave?“

TK gets no reply.

„DAD!“

There’s noises coming from downstairs.

“What?“

TK rolls his eyes and sticks his head into the hall way.

“Have you seen my aftershave?“

TK can hear his dad move around in the living room.

“Is it not in the bathroom cabinet?“

TK frowns.

“No, I’m just looking at it now, it’s not there.“

Silence.

TK looks at himself in the mirror and fixes his hair. Well then he needs to get a new one after work. He puts his shirt on.

“Wait, I think it put in the drawer under the bathroom sink.“

TK crouches down in front of the sink and opens the bottom drawer. There’s hair gel and razor blades and the new aftershave.

TK laughs. Why did his dad put it down there.

“Right, got it thanks!“

He opens to box and gets the aftershave out. He opens the lid and smells on it. It’s a new one. Carlos had told him about it and how he liked the smell of it and TK wanted to try it out.

He puts some of it in his hands and rubs it against his face. It stings on his neck and TK notices he’s got a little cut there. He dabs a tissue against it.

He looks at the clock again to check the time when he hears the door bell ring.

TK walks into to his room to grab his jacket, wallet and keys.

When he makes it downstairs his dad is already opening the door.

“Officer Reyes?“

Carlos smiles but waits outside of the door.

“Good evening Captain Strand. I’m here to pick up TK and please call me Carlos. I’m not on duty.“

Captain Strand nods.

“It’s Owen then.“

TK quickly walks over and stops next to his father.

He smiles at Carlos.

“Hi, sorry I’m a bit late.“

Carlos shakes his head.

“It’s fine.“

TK starts to move when he hears his dad speak again.

“Wait, are you taking my son out for a date?“

Captain Strand looks questioning from Carlos to his son. Carlos blushes and TK’s eyes grow wide.

“Dad! No it’s not a date. We‘re just hanging out at the pub togehter.“

His father laughs.

“Mhhhhhmm right.“

He gently nudges his sons shoulder. TK rolls his eyes. He feels freaking awkward and just wants to leave.

“Right, shall we?“

Carlos points over to his car and TK jumps into action without looking at his father again.

“TK.“ Owen laughs. “Have fun.“

He sees his father winking at him and TK’s face turns red. He rolls his eyes at his dad again and gets in the car without saying anything.

2.

TK’s chilling on the couch in the fire station. His shift is going to end in about 10 minutes and he can’t wait to get off.

“Hey little bro, what you up to?“ Judd is leaning over the couch, squeezing his shoulders.

Paul walks over from the kitchen and sits down next to him.

“Nothing, just chilling. Shift‘s over in 10 and Carlos is gonna pick me up. He’s cooking tonight.“

“Oh look, Carlos is cooking tonight.“ Paul laughs and bumps his fist against TK’s shoulder.

Judd throws his arms around him from behind.

“What’s going on there? Got yourself a piece of that hot officer TK?“

TK shoves his arms away. “What? No.“

“We just noticed that you guys hang around each other a lot. You dating or something?“

TK turns around to face Judd.

“We’re not dating, we’re just friends.“

Paul reaches over and pokes TK in his side.

“Oh it’s like that.“

TK frowns.

“Seriously guys we’re not dating.“

Paul grins and Judd pokes his cheek.

“God, you’re like children, you two.“

TK pats their hands away.

“TK you there?“

Carlos walks into the fire station. Paul and Judd are still laughing and TK looks annoyed at them.

“What’s going on?“

Carlos looks confused at the three of them.

“Nothing, they’re just idots.“ TK huffs.

“You ok with fish today and I’ve got this new bread recipe, which fits perfect to the fish.“

TK gets up from the couch grabbing his bag. Judd walks around the couch and before TK can walk over to Carlos he ruffles through his hair and grins.

“Enjoy dinner kiddo.“ He looks over to Carlos. “You be good to my little bro or we might have to have a conversation.“

Carlos scratches his head and looks confused. “Right.“

“Oh god this is so embarrassing guys.“

TK rolls his eyes and walks over to Carlos, grabs him by the shoulder to move. He can still hear the boys laugh when they make their way out of the fire station.

3.

“How’s buttercup doing? Michelle told me you’ve got a fire station dog now.“

Carlos takes a sip of his coffee and looks at TK with a smile.

“Yeah my dad thought it was a good idea. He’s ill like him, lung cancer but he gets treatment.“

Carlos frowns.

“Oh, you ok with that?“

He gently puts his hand on TK’s arm.

“I wasn’t at first because you know … but he’s too adorable and I just love dogs.“

Carlos softly rubs his arm before he takes his coffee and takes another sip.

“You had a dog before?“ The other man ask.

TK shakes his head.

“No I’ve always wanted one but living in a high apartment with no garden my dad thought it wouldn’t be a good idea.“

Carlos nods.

“Yeah makes sense. My auntie Tia had this cute little pug and I loved chasing around with him when I was a kid.“

“Cute.“ TK laughs.

He gets distracted for a bit when he sees the door of the coffee shop opening and Marjan walking in.

She doesn’t notice the two men though and walks over to get some coffee.

“TK?“

He can feel Carlos tap at his arm.

“Yeah?“

“I asked if you wanna try out the new restaurant in town on the weekend?“

They get interupted by a waving Marjan walking over to them quickly.

“TK! Carlos!“

She puts her coffee to go on the table and sits down next to TK.

“I’m not interrupting a date, am I.“

She laughs.

“What no we’re not on a date.“ TK blurts out almost choking on his coffee.

“Oh right, well you should though, date I mean, you two look really cute together.“

TK’s face turns bright red and he coughs awkwardly. Carlos just laughs but avoids to look at TK.

Marjan reaches over the table and takes a bite from TK’s cake.

“Anyway, you two coming for my birthday party on Saturday? Big family meet up and since you’re my family too, I’d love to have you there.“

Her eyes sparkle and she’s got a big smile on her face.

Both men nod in agreement.

“Nice! Alright, gotta head to work now, shift’s starting in 20. See ya there kid!“

She gets up and gently bumps against TK’s shoulder.

He watches her leave the coffee shop when Carlos grins at him.

“She’s right though.“

TK rises his eyebrow. “About what?“

“You are really cute.“

TK chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh shut up, I’m not.“

Carlos laughs out loud and takes a swipe of the cream on TK’s cake and puts it on the other man’s nose.

“Yeah you are.“

4.

“Ahhhh TK, wait up I’ve got a cramp.“

TK stops and looks at his watch. He still has to run 30 more minutes to finish his task for today. He looks back though and sees Carlos leaning against a tree. He walks over to where the other man’s standing. Carlos breaths hard and TK grabs his water bottle and hands it over to him. Carlos takes a sip of the water. TK sees him wince out in pain when he puts his foot back on the ground.

“Damn the cramp won’t stop.“ Carlos looks annoyed.

“Let’s get you over to that bench.“

TK puts the other man’s arms over his shoulder and helps him over to one of the benches on the side.

“Sorry, I’m interrupting your running cycle.“

Carlos looks sorry and sits down carefully.

“Nah, don’t worry about that.“

TK smiles and lifts up Carlos leg to put it on his lap. He shoves the material of the other man’s running pants up to his knee.

“Does it hurt here?“

He presses his fingers on the inside of Carlos calf and the other man yells out in pain.

“Fuck.“

TK keeps on massaging the leg and Carlos relaxes after some minutes.

“Better?“

Carlos leans back and nods.

“Thanks.“

He wants to move his leg off TK’s lap when the other man grabs it and holds in place.

“No, wait let it rest for a bit before you walk again.“

“Look who‘s having a running date.“

TK looks up and Mateo is suddenly standing in front of them, legs still moving on the same spot.

Carlos looks confused.

“We’re not on a date? We just went out on a run together.“

Mateo looks from Carlos to TK.

“Damn, that means I won’t win the money pot.“

TK looks at Mateo with questioning eyes.

“What money pot?“

“We were betting on you two dating or not.“ Mateo chuckles.

“Who was betting?“ TK asks.

“Ask Judd.“ Matteo giggles and runs off.

TK looks back at Carlos shaking his head.

“Maybe we should put some money in the pott as well and win?“

Carlos puts his leg back on the floor and gets up.

TK blinks confused. “Huh?“

Carlos laughs. “And go on a date?“

TK blushes and runs his hand through his hair. “Oh.“

“Anyway, think about it but now get your arse up, we need to finish your running cycle or are you tired Strand?“

TK gets up blowing out a breath.

“You old man needed a break not me.“

Carlos chuckles again.

“Well go and catch the old man then.“

TK sees Carlos run off. He shakes his head but smiles and runs after him.

+ 1 time TK and Carlos are actually going out on a date

TK hears the door bell ring and quickly opens it.

“Thank god you’re here I need your help.“

The young man grabs Grace by the arm and drags her into the house.

“Where’s the fire.“ Grace laughs.

TK holds a shirt in front oft he woman‘s face. She eyes it up and looks questioning at the younger man.

“Two buttons are gone and I can’t get sew them on. Dad’s not here and I have a date in 20 minutes. Can you please help me.“

“Oh I see.“ Grace takes the shirt out of his hands. “You got a needle and some yarn?“

TK walks over to the kitchen and comes back with a sewing kit.

Grace sits down and gets to work. TK sits down next to her, fidgeting nervously around with the ring on his finger.

“You ok kid?“

TK looks up.

“I haven’t been on a date for ages and I just really don’t wanna ruin it.“

Grace skillful weaves the needle in and out and the first button is back on the shirt.

“Not to be too nosy and you obviously don’t have to tell me but who you going out with?“

TK stops moving and his face softens.

„Carlos.“

Grace‘s face lights up.

“He’s a good one.“

“Yeah I know that’s why I’m scared and I don’t wanna screw it up and last time I was on a date it didn’t go well. And I don’t know maybe I get this  all wrong and- …“

TK’s breathing quickens up and he feels himself slipping into a slight panic.

Grace puts the needle and shirt away and gently takes his hands in her own.

“Hey take a breath. It’s gonna be fine. I can with a certainty say that Carlos really likes you. You can’t screw this up kid. Just be yourfself, that’s all that matters.“

The older woman‘s hands help him to calm down and he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks Grace. I’ll remember that.“

Grace nods and goes back to work to sew on the last missing button.

“Take it slow and you don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to. Carlos is a good kid, he’ll understand.“

TK scratches at his head.

“Actually we already did that?“

He blushes.

“Oh. Ohhhhhh“ Grace looks baffled but smiles. “I don’t blame you. He looks good but don’t tell Judd I said that.“

TK laughs.

“Right, this is done.“

Grace hands the shirt over to TK who immediately changes his clothes. He walks over to the hallway mirror to have a last quick check over his outfit.

“You look nice. The color suits your eyes.“

The door bell rings and TK grabs his jacket and keys. Grace follows him to the door. Carlos is waiting at his car and waves at them from the street.

TK closes the door behind him and Grace. He hugs her.

“Thank you for this and you know - …“

Grace puts a kiss on his cheek and softly rubs his back.

“It’s nothing kid. Go and enjoy your date. It‘ll be all good.“

TK smiles and squeezes her hand before he walks down the stairs over to a waiting Carlos.

“You look good TK.“ Carlos hugs him quick. “Is that Grace over there?“

TK looks back at where Grace is waving at them. “Yeah, my saving angel.“

“That she is.“ Carlos agrees.

Carlos holds out his hand waiting for TK to take it.

“Ready for a nice date, Tyler Kennedy Strand?!.“

TK chuckles and his faces lights up. He takes Carlos hand and it feels good. All nervousness gone.

“I’m ready.“

[dreamsafterhours]

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: III (donghyuk's pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff pairings: mark+my/n (fem), donghyuk+dy/n (fem), platonic!mark+dy/n, platonic!donghyuk+my/n format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college bf warning: some swearing

masterlist

or click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

III: 별빛이 내린다 샤라랄라랄라라 (2+2=4)

the meeting of two souls: donghyuk & dy/n

welcome! back and to the next part

in which things actually happen! yay

so. up until this point

it’s been quite obvious i hope

that this is the one where The Soulmates Meet™

and this one right here is the one where donghyuk meets his future wifenew best (not) friend

dammit this is a set plot with SET relationships

yeah

major spoilers for future parts but hey :) y’all know it i know it let’s just.

let’s get to it!!

that day you accidentally sleep in after a late night and walk into your lecture looking pretty trashier than you would normally a few weeks into the first sem and you’re already tired it’s okay bby aww

and mark suggests skipping the next lecture and going for coffee instead

you’re like ok lmfao free coffee for me yay thanks marcus i owe you one

and to make up for the lecture he suggests he join you and your roommate with his own roommate in the library later that day to study the material you’d missed out on

so you’re like sweet study group hell yeah and apparently his roommate is also in biomed like your roommate? hey they might get along pretty well it’d be nice to have roommates in the same faculty hey

little do you know you little cutie you uwu

mark takes you to a cafe to buy you your favourite drink and a croissant bc you skipped breakfast again and he cares about his friends ok plus he was eyeing that donut next to the savoury menu in the glass cabinet and he would have felt bad if he got something to eat and you didn’t

you sit down, sipping your drink at the window seats and wishing your fatigue away

laughing with mark about what you slept so late for

my/n had been ranting about her love life again or perhaps lack thereof,,

don’t worry tho

after you’d gotten her to sleep, you’d gotten major feels for an essay question that you’d been tasked with due in a week but you hadn’t touched it until last night

staring at the prompt for at least half an hour trying to get your head around it and wondering what the hell you’d write about

but like they say

starting is half of it

so when you start spinning your words and getting into the writing mood

you accidentally wrote an entire draft without realising

albeit being full of loose ends and points you need to refine, etc., it was a decent body of work that you’d tackle for a few more nights before turning in

a skeleton, you’d called it

“a skeleton?”

“yeah. next thing i need to do is.. flesh it out”

“.. literally”

cue mark’s small pause

/inhale/

/MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

you know how mark’s laugh is very how do i put this into words hm dictated

you can HEAR each HA and they’re separate syllables yet sometimes they can vary in tone and length right it’s usually the more consistent HAs before he kinda loses it and starts throwing himself around

it was that laugh

honestly man finds everything funny his laughing threshold seems so low

and no matter how unfunny you are he WILL laugh at anything you say

and you’ve been doing it a lot lately

you could say literally any random thing and he’d already be ready to laugh (see Figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1

you: /snort/

mark, already giggling: “what”

you, still sniggering: /touches his elbow/ “arm knee”

mark: /inhale/ gotta live and breathe that oxygen

mark: HAHAHAHAhahAhaHAHAhahAhHa (decrescendo.. cRESCENDO)

^ that but looped, with intermittent slaps to your arm

anyways you never fail to make him fall out of his chair in laughter

but enough of that. dy/n is donghyuk’s y/n for a REASON ahEM

so after you finish up your breakfast at the cafe you go back to your dorm to take a power nap and recharge before your library session you were going to stay awake but mark forces you to take a nap and you’re like bro you just fed me caffeine now you want me to sleep??

then he tells you he ordered your drink decaf

you turn to him real slow

“.. you sick traitor. how dare you besmirch my name so. you scorn my forefathers and our dependence on the holy bean’s juices. betrayal runs rampant in your soul and mine stands at the mercy of your choices, them informed by the devil himself”

mark: /shrug/ “placebo effect yeet. hey, it worked for a bit. now you should really go home and get your sleep”

and he drags you back to your dorm and waves you off before going to his next class

you’re lowkey grateful for it tho when you take a shower and collapse onto your bed, falling asleep in what you think could be half the time you usually take

dreaming about losing your airpods and mark yelling at you to be more careful and then you two fighting bc you’d just lost your $300 bean sprouts but you could have sworn he took them

then police sirens went off out of nowhere and both of you were being arrested for assault and thievery

why you were the one being arrested, you had no idea but it’s a dream nothing follows the guidelines of hard reality anyway

just as you’re about to be handcuffed, you think to yourself, nope. i have a library session to attend. ain’t nobody got time for this shit

and you just

wake up

but the sirens are still continuing?? so you’re like ? is my building surrounded

they’ve come for me

even though you haven’t exactly broken any laws or have you

and you realise it was the alarm you’d set in time to get ready for your library session

so you grab your stuff and leave for the library, double checking with your roommate over text to make sure she was on her way

her lab class was taking longer than usual so she tells you she’ll be 10 or so minutes late

so you tell her you’ll be saving a seat for her and call mark to let him know you’re on your way to the library

“oh i’m already here lol. alright, i’m waiting for you outside”

and sure enough, you see him leaning on the wall of the entrance, eyes on his phone

you consider calling out to him but before you actually do, he glances up and spots you walking over tf do you have psychic spatial awareness mark

smiles and takes his corded earphones out

“you seriously need to upgrade those”

“they work fine”

“nop i’m getting you airpods for your birthday”

“dUdE thEy’RE tOo ExPEnSiVe. nO dUDE NoO”

“nOP. i’m GOING to buy you EXPENSIVE BEAN SPROUTS for your LIFE DEBUT ANNIVERSARY and you CAN’T STOP ME”

at this point i should just put /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ and you should know what laugh i’m referring to

/MARK LEE’S MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

/MLML/ for short

nvm it’s fine it’s kinda fun to type /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

literally mark laughs in bolded italics i’m just sad i can’t underline it on tumblr unless it’s a link lmfao

n e ways

i digress

you shush him because you’re about to walk into the library

“qUIET DOWN marcus” turn that sh down for quiet new dawn

the library is almost full for the day but after a minute or two scouring the building you find an empty four seater in the middle of nowhere it’s CRAZY you can NEVER find a MIRACLE like this life couldn’t get better

i’m sorry

you speed walk to claim it even though there was no one else in your vicinity to threaten your territory

mark laughs at you trying to get to the table as fast as you could without all out running

getting out your things, you send a photo of your seat to your roommate and tell mark to send it to his roommate as well so they know where to find you

you start watching the lecture online while taking notes and since you’re not in the lecture theatre you can talk more audibly with mark not that you don’t talk in the actual lecture too,,

maybe you do text a lot,,, during class

mark usually says things like “.. implications of what now?? interpretation of huh?” to which you reply “i want cheese when i get home”

and he has to stifle his laughter while you keep your straight face and continue writing your notes he admires this ability ngl

and so while you’re watching it on your computer

you can say things like “fuck. i want pickles”

and mark will /throw himself back/ and cackle and probably say some shit like “DIDN’T YOU HATE PICKLES??” between his giggles

and you’re like “yeah. fuck pickles but like. fuck. pickles”

he almost falls off his chair at this point

but when he balances himself again he spots someone down the corridor and wave them over

“oii! over here dude”

you turn to glance at them to expect his roommate, but you see your own roommate talking to someone and wave her over as well

“heYY my/n”

you see the other person turn to your roommate and tell her something, , then she says something back

which is apparently shocking to them, because he glances over at mark and then at you

and then he looks again when your roommate points straight at you

to which you’re like ?? hi? y u look me

and then they both start laughing

you wonder if they were laughing at you or smth until mark’s like “tf is that idiot doing”

and u look at him like ? what idiot

“that idiot. the idiot roommate i told u about. the one who called u a homewrecker”

and you’re like

wait

[info clog]

wait

[error]

“wait”

“what”

“that’s your roommate?” u point at the boy next to my/n, who r both still laughing at something going all “wOW r u KIDDING” he has a loud voice

and mark’s like “? yeah”

and you go

“.. the girl next to him is my roommate”

mark: “wait what”

that’s what she said

at that point they’ve made their way over to the table, still trying to hold in their laughter

you start to introduce your roommate to mark, who’s still confused by the situation

you: “mark, this is my/n, my/n this is mark”

my/n: “nice to see you again mark”

you: “wait. again?”

mark: “yeah we’ve met. hi my/n”

you: “what”

mark: “yeah”

my/n: “yeah”

his roommate: “yeah”

you:

you: “i feeling like i’m missing something here”

turns out

surprise surprise

that one friend that my/n had made in her biology class was mark’s roommate oh my god they were roommates

whose name, you are told, is lee donghyuk

magical moment

us watching: heh 🤤

u can’t help but do a lil body scan from head to toe bc he a fine piece of cake we all know that

honey skin, oversized white t shirt, black pants, sneakers and lighter brown hair that looks fluffy the type of fluffy that makes u wanna touch it

yes he’s good looking. yes

yaaaaas

then mark tells him your name

“she’s the one i said reminded me of you”

“r u talking abt me behind my back marcus??”

donghyuk laughs and holds out a hand for you to shake

“what kinda coincidence is this?? i adopt your roommate, you’re dealing with mine”

“oh you’re gonna have to get in line to adopt her, i’m her legal guardian, sorry donghyuk”

to which he goes

“lmfao then we’ll both be her parents”

“k but i’ll keep her on the weekends. you see her on the weekdays”

then he wipes his smile off his face and he’s like “who said we’re split”

mark and my/n are doing the /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ at this point

mark: “so ,, seriously what are the chances”

you: “this quartet,, it’s fate guys it’s fate there’s no way about it”

yes it is. yes. it is

even that four seater table was free because of fate

donghyuk: “this calls for drinks later. we all free? no 9am classes tmr?”

my/n: “we have a physics prac at 8:30 dingus”

donghyuk: “ah shit”

you barely got any notes for that lecture for at least an hour because you end up talking altogether throughout the session but once you remember you’re in a library to study you request a ceasefire and agree to study for a bit which,, you gotta admit ,, isn’t really productive because you’re so excited to meet someone new

but the best part about the day was when you notice how many times mark is glancing at your roommate while she’s reviewing her notes, completely oblivious

donghyuk complains that he’s hungry after another hour or two and you suggest you all have dinner together

donghyuk leans back in his chair in a stretch, his jumper lifting up a little over his jeans and showing a bit of his belly “ah i’m craving chinese”

you perk up, “mE TOO”

so you all go to your favourite chinese place just outside campus where you find out that mark and my/n have the same taste and so do you and donghyuk

he points and u and goes “oH?”

“jjAMPPONG? U TOO?”

“the ONLY DISH EVER”

mark and my/n: jjajang is fine : )

you and donghyuk: “JJAMPPONG IS SUPERIOR”

give him a bro five with the shoulder bump and everything

the boys walk you and my/n back to your dorm afterwards

donghyuk and my/n end up walking in a pair and mark walks alongside you

mark mentions how it’d be fun if you made a group chat together

you: “do it”

“i don’t have your roommate’s number tho”

you’re smiling wickedly at his reaction “?? ASK HER FOR IT”

“dude what?? no u make one and i’ll add donghyuk to it”

“bRO JUST ASK”

“wHAT NO U DO IT THEN”

so u go

bet

and you call out the two biomed kids walking in front of you

“hey donghyuk! give me your number i’ll make a group chat”

“sure lol” and you open up a new contact to let him type his number into your phone

he saves his name as hot boi hyuk ✌🏻

which you just leave bc you’re busy making the group chat

mark is still astounded that you asked donghyuk for his number so easily

you: hi hello good day

my/n 🌸: yeetus meetus

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: bow before me

you: here before me lie the beginnings of a new era

you: one born from blood and stone

my/n 🌸: tf is she saying

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: idk but lets go with it

you: together we rise from the rubble and sort through the debris

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: yas queen

my/n 🌸: i hate this gc already

you: and we WILL REBUILD THIS EMPIRE

read by marcus the fool 🤡 at 8:21 pm

safe to say you stay up for a good while talking on that group chat while mark just sits idle,,

you honestly don’t know if he’s consciously reading or not maybe he just left his phone on the chat

and thus our quartet is complete,,

and they all lived

happily ever after

but this isn’t the ending tho is it

wink wonk /waggles eyebrows/

this is but the epilogue to the prologue

that doesn’t make sense but n e ways

our quartet has not yet become two pairings

y’all just don’t know what the future has in store for you :)

click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

taglist: @lavellanfriendliness​ 

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

[hedwigstalons]

FabFiveFeb - Scott

Part 4 of the prompt challenge for @gumnut-logic. Ok Scott doesn’t come into this much but here is where the prompts took me.  The uses the prompts ‘crease’ and ‘apple’.

xoxoxox

There was a mountain of paperwork to be done.  It seemed like there was always paperwork of some sort demanding his attention.  Mission reports.  Stock lists. Maintenance schedules. Rotas.  Sometime he felt that the rotas were a waste of time; it’s not like emergencies kept to a schedule and down time was generally dictated by who had had the least sleep rather than following any pattern or design.  He liked to at least hope he could give each brother a fairly regular day off rescues but sometimes even keeping birthdays sacred was impossible.

As a man of action the paperwork was a particular bugbear of Scott’s.  Delegation wasn’t an option though.  John and Virgil were responsible for producing at least three quarters of the documents he had to analyse so he couldn’t really push more paper their way, Alan had school work and Gordon was….Gordon.  The last time the irrepressible aquanaut had been tasked with writing the supplies list it had mostly consisted of ice cream and canned cheese.  Scott was surprised they hadn’t all got scurvy that month.

 Speaking of the aquatic sibling Scott was horribly aware of his brother’s presence on the far side of the lounge.  It was disrupting his concentration and causing the stress lines on his forehead to crease even deeper.  He looked up to send the irritation packing but faltered.

 “Gordon…why do you have an apple on your head?”

 He received a cheerful shrug in return.  “Science.”  As if it was obvious.

 “Just how is you balancing an apple science?

 Gordon adopted his ‘I’m talking to an idiot’ tone and pointed to the normally space-resident sibling who was quietly reclining on a sofa in the sunken seating area, reading a book.

 “Johnny boy and I have a little experiment going.  About gravity.”  

 “It’s John, thank you very much.”  The use of the nickname earned a scowl.

 “And just what have apples got to do with this?” Scott didn’t really want to ask but if he stood any chance of getting Gordon to go away he knew he needed to understand.

 “Everything.  Apples and gravity; it’s a classic.”

 “John, can you translate please.  I’m still failing to see exactly why our brother has an apple on his head.”

 John carefully marked the page then put his book to one side. He hadn’t been back on Earth for long and was still in the mandatory rest phase while his blood pressure readjusted.

 “Gordon seems to think I’m disproportionately affected by gravity.  He has decided to test what falls down first, me or the apple.”

 It was well known that John struggled with the effects of gravity.  Prolonged periods of time in the microgravity of Thunderbird Five meant that while John was gracefulness personified in space he was a bit of a walking disaster zone when Earthside.  The first day or two after returning home were characterised by John’s fragile skin being bumped, grazed and gaining all manner of new bruises.

 “If I fall first I have to wear one of Gordon’s shirts for a day.”  Scott could almost see John stiffen at the though of being subjected to Gordon’s fashion choices.  “But if Gordon drops the apple then he has to eat whatever it is Grandma is currently baking for me.  She is making one of her special ‘welcome home’ treats.”

 This time there was no mistaking the shudder. Gordon physically recoiled at the thought.  Grandma’s normal baking was bad enough but the pressure of making something special tended to result in an even more catastrophic failure.  The apple wobbled precariously and Gordon straightened himself just in time.

 “What Gordon seems to have forgotten is that I’m going to be spending the next few hours lying down.  I can’t trip over while I’m reading.  Now if you don’t mind I’d quite like to carry on with my book.”

 He made to pick up the discarded volume when Gordon chipped in.

 “And what Johnny seems to have forgotten is that as well as resting he is also being a good boy and rehydrating.  I know he has drunk at least 40 oz since his last bathroom break. Gotta move sooner or later, space case”

 John became uncomfortably aware of the pressing feeling in his bladder.  It hadn’t been an issue until Gordon pointed it out but now the feeling filled his focus. Navigating his way out of the sunken seating was bad enough during those first few hours back on Earth but doing so while distracted was a whole other level of difficulty.  He wished he had just kept to his room with its nice, convenient en-suite but the prospect of avoiding Grandma’s burnt offerings had been too tempting.  There was no way he was letting Gordon into the hallowed sanctuary of his bedroom and so the experiment was being conducted in the communal areas of the villa.

 Scott rubbed his temples.  The creases threatened to turn into full-blown furrows.  All chances of him completing the paperwork were well and truly shattered.  He evidently wasn’t going to get any peace until the experiment had run it’s course. He had no problems with John sharing the lounge but there was something about having Gordon hovering that put him on edge.  Gordon didn’t even have to make a noise to be distracting, sometimes just his existence was enough.

 He watched as John carefully manoeuvred himself into an upright position and walked with exaggerated care towards the steps.  Gordon was positively vibrating with the tension, wondering whether their rarely-resident space monitor would be able to navigate the obstacle.  None of them noticed Virgil enter the lounge behind Gordon, they were all so engrossed in the spectacle.

 “Oh yum, snack table.”  Virgil grabbed the apple off of Gordon’s head, polished it on his jeans to remove the smear of hair gel, then bit into it with a loud crunch just moments John caught his foot on the bottom step and fell sprawling to the floor.

 “Aww Virg! What did you have to go and do that for? I was just about to win.”  Gordon rounded on the oblivious engineer.

 “What?  What did I do?” Virgil mumbled round a mouthful of apple.

 Scott sighed.  “Apparently Gordon bet John that he would fall down before the apple did.”

 Virgil just shrugged.  “Draw?”  he suggested, reaching down to help John back to his feet.

 “Oh no, I win outright”  John smirked.  “I believe the exact terms of the challenge were that I couldn’t fall over but Gordon had to keep the apple on his head without touching it.  Seeing as the apple left Gordon’s head before I reached the steps, I win.”

 He collected his book, climbed the steps without further incident, and headed towards his room complete with its convenient bathroom.

 In the doorway he paused and turned.

 “Enjoy the cookies Gordon.  I believe Grandma was attempting something with cranberries so try not to break a tooth.”

[leiascully]

The Wong End of the Telescope

By @agirlcalledNarelle: submission for Angst fic exchange in Apr 2020. Prompt was ‘Mulder and Scully on the run angst’! Trigger warning: suicide reference, disordered eating. How did Mulder & Scully end up in the UH?

6,8K words. Here on AO3

Cotton candy pink grazed the tops of the darkened hills. It was the hour of magical thinking, when dreams fuse with reality and imaginary adventures are tethered once more by the earth’s physical laws. Scully pulled up at a trailer park, her eyes on the dirt track in front of her rather on the hills above. The energy of the hour moved around her like the parted Red Sea.  Mulder stirred beside her, stretching his arms over his head, and wiped spittle from the side of his mouth.

‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse from sleep. He looked at her in a daze, so boyish and trusting, having slept for the last seven hours. She wanted to reach over and stroke his warm, pink cheek, but instead she sat on her hands and stared outside.

‘Crockett, Texas.’

‘Why?’

‘Sun was coming up,’ she answered tersely. ‘It meets the criteria, and we’ve been on the go for over 12 hours.’

The sky was now a cloudless blue. Dry air promised a hot day ahead. Their last town had been in flat and endless prairie country. Scully had ached to see mountains, the hodgepodge of nature competing for survival, so she subconsciously delivered them to a town surrounded by hills in the neighbouring national park. She used to like arriving. She would enjoy discovering what made each town tick, uncovering their customs and values, until she realised every place was the same in that they would one day leave it behind.

The door to the trailer park reception opened and a dishevelled woman eyed them suspiciously.

‘We don’t open til 7,’ she called, her features distorted with annoyance. ‘Y’all will just have to wait til then.’

Scully looked at her watch: it was 6:55am. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully got there first.

‘That’s fine, we can wait. Thanks for letting us know.’ She attempted a smile, but it sat foreign on her lips. The woman said nothing and closed the door.

‘It’s only five minutes, Scully,’ Mulder muttered, kicking the gravel. ‘I’m sure she could have sprung us a key.’

‘What’s the point in drawing attention to ourselves?’ Scully replied sharply. ‘We just got here. I don’t want to have to leave before we’ve even had breakfast because you’ve gone and made yourself all memorable. We’re living by your rules, you know.’

Yesterday, she had returned to their trailer to find Mulder urgently packing the car. Gotta move, he had said. The Sheriff had come into the store where Mulder worked stacking shelves, and Mulder didn’t like the way he’d answered the Sheriff’s innocent questions. Felt there was too much room for scrutiny, and he got his feeling. The feeling when someone looked at them for too long or asked too many follow up questions. Before she’d had a chance to shower, they were leaving town.

At precisely 7am, the sign on the door of the lodge switched from Closed to Welcome! We’re open. Scully paid in cash for a week while Mulder sulked by the car. She left him to carry in the bags while she entered the stuffy trailer in search of the bed.

*

She found work a café off a main road which offered all-day breakfasts for the laborers, and milkshakes and relative privacy for the high schoolers. The first time Mulder had been a fugitive, the Lone Gunmen had set up a couple of bank accounts in different names for him to access. Now they were nearing the end of their second year on the run as a pair, and without the Gunmen’s help, they worked to supplement themselves. As Mulder liked to say, their opportunities dried up as quickly as the money in those accounts.

Ed, the manager, had thought Scully would be perfect for front of house. She preferred something along the lines of washing dishes and his expression revealed that it wasn’t the first time he’d received such a request. He’d looked her up and down and nodded slowly. Shift is 6am to 2pm, 6 days a week, Ed said daringly, you think you can handle that?

Scully filled up the sink on her first day when a boy entered, skinny, with mousy brown hair in need of a trim. He slipped an apron over his standard teen uniform of black jeans, band t-shirt and converse. She guessed he was 17, maybe 18 years old. He stopped still at the sight of her.

‘Who are you?’ His voice was both deep and weedy, still adjusting to itself.

‘Denise.’ Another of Mulder’s rules: keep the same initial. Easier to roll off your tongue. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Chet. I’m the morning waiter until 2pm, when Sasha’s in.’ He reached across her to wash his hands. It had been a while since someone other than Mulder has stood in such close proximity. Feeling crowded, she inhaled quickly and concentrated on tying her hair up. ‘You’re different to the last washer.’ Scully didn’t say anything. ‘You new in town? Did you just arrive?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Scully busied herself with the pots, and Chet took the hint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the shift.

‘Do you think it will work?’ Mulder asked when she returned 8 hours later, accompanied by the smell of cooking oil. The afternoon was caught under a bell jar, hot and still. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with newspapers spread in front of him, looking for any information that could potentially threaten them. Scully was sure that, should she ever ask him, he wouldn’t be able to articulate exactly what he was looking for.

‘It’s fine.’ She removed her shoes and sat on the end of the bed. Her feet were humming from the day’s work followed by the 3 mile walk back. ‘Same as that place in Burlington.’

‘Kansas?’

‘Sure.’ She crawled fully onto the bed and tucked her hand under the pillow, her back to Mulder.

‘Good. The more anonymous the better.’ Mulder pulled the papers from under her. ‘It looks like there are two local newspapers, but the most popular one here is USA Today.’

‘Well that’s a surprise.’

‘Whatever, Scully. I’m not doing this for fun.’ She felt him lie down next to her. The hairs on her back stood to attention, hoping he wouldn’t touch. The silence between them was a black hole, and Scully jumped right in.

‘I found work at a local motel. They’re renovating for Summer.’ Mulder said quietly after a few minutes.

‘Ok.’ Scully stayed on her side.

‘I stocked up at the store, so we don’t have to go for a little while. Do you want anything to eat?’

‘No.’ She closed her eyes against the daylight.

*

The mirror in the trailer was placed such that she could only see her shoulders up. Mulder had to crouch to see himself, and Scully very nearly had to stand on tiptoes. Before, this would have made her laugh.

Around her 40th birthday, she had gone through a phase of avoiding mirrors altogether, but now she studied her reflection with interest. Her pronounced clavicle snaked around the bottom of her neck like two thin arms buried under the skin threatening to strangle her. Feathery lines sat under her eyes from months of squinting at the road. Her cheekbones slid into shadowed gorges and levelled out to her soft chin, slack and furry with little hair. Freckles splattered like paint on a pale canvas. Grey dominated the natural auburn at her temples so that when she pulled her hair into a ponytail her mother’s face gazed back at her. The first time she saw the likeness she had gasped, remembering her father sitting next to her Christmas tree, little Emily asking to be set free in a wooden church. From then on, her hair was always down unless at work.

Mulder made her wear a baseball cap when she was out. If she dyed her hair, she was allowed to leave the cap at home. The idea of being anything other than a shade of red panicked her: this was her last thing. She was already hollowed out, a tinman pretending to have a heart. If she lost her hair colour, she felt she would finally rust over and be lost forever. What else did she have left?

*

Scully was scrubbing stubborn scrambled eggs from a large frying pan. The effort made her arm ache, and she felt slightly dizzy. Though they had shared fewer than 10 sentences since she started a week ago, she welcomed a break when Chet walked quickly into the kitchen.

‘Trade places with me,’ He said urgently. She looked at him properly for the first time. His head was ducked, chin covered in the duckling fluff of a teen too keen to prove his maturity. He was tall, she realised. She hadn’t realised how tall, given his movements were soft and quick. She wondered what his mother felt when she looked at him.

‘Why?’ She asked suspiciously. ‘I need to stay back here.’

‘Please, would you just do it for me?’ He pleaded. Scully scanned the room to see a table of girls laughing over their menus.

‘You want to avoid those girls?’

‘Something like that,’ Chet mumbled, cheeks flushed. Scully sighed and took the apron out of his hands, her palms sweaty with nerves. She took their order and found she had forgotten how to move her face. Her reactions felt too big, too staged. She tested her limits by taking another order from another girl sat by herself. When she returned to the kitchen, Chet had scrubbed off the remaining egg.

‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully. 

‘I’m not going to do it again,’ she snapped, snatching the brush from his hands. He left, and she leaned against the sink, hating herself for snapping. After almost three years on the run, her ability to make connections was off. She wrapped her right thumb and middle finger around her left wrist, measuring its circumference. Her wrist didn’t touch the fingers, and she was pleased when she could circle her wrist freely their grip. The bubbles in the sink crackled as they burst, slowly revealing a yellow glob of egg.

*

She would wake before Mulder to get to the café on time. He slept soundly, in a way he never could previously, on his back with an arm over his head. The conspiracy hadn’t been enough: he needed to be fully consumed by something, eaten, removed from life as he knew it, before he found peace.

He was enjoying his current line of work. She could tell because he once described the paint brush gliding like a toboggan, or by his swagger as he removed his t-shirt after a day of manual labour. Previously he was all about exposing the designs of others; now he was the creator. He was proud of himself. She had picked a hangnail on her pinkie, dry from constantly being in water, as he told her a tale about some wood and nails. Or it might have been shelves and a spirit level. She hadn’t listened too closely, knowing that whatever he found here would last only as long as he felt safe. Soon the time would come when his house of cards would fall.

*

‘What are you doing here, anyway, Ms Denise?’ Chet asked her. He was standing in the doorway, at a loose end. Rain kept the breakfast regulars away. Scully’s wet ponytail was plastered down her back and her soaked t-shirt stuck to her leggings. Her hipbones, sharp and round like pin heads, pressed against the sink as she leaned over, missing the usual padding of a dry t-shirt. They would bruise by the end of the day.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked flatly. With no customers, she kept busy by dismantling and cleaning the fat fryer.  

‘Just that.’ Chet helped her remove one of the baskets. ‘Why did y’all come to Crockett? To work in a café? What’s the story?’

‘No story. Just in need of a job.’

‘No story.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re here just because you need a job. All on your lonesome.’

‘Yep.’ She popped the ‘p’ sound at the end.

‘My uncle had a friend who just turned up out of nowhere,’ Chet said. ‘Turns out he had two different families over in Louisiana. Weren’t long before he got sprung and had to go back. Now he’s awaiting trial for polygamy.’

‘So what?’ Her forehead suddenly prickled with sweat and she wiped it with her wrist. She met his gaze and held it in a silent threat.

‘Nothing’s never nothing, s’all I’m saying.’ Chet left to serve a customer, and Scully exhaled shakily. The oil mixed with the soap in the sink to create rainbows on the slimy surface. This kid was smart. A liability best kept to herself for now.

*

Scully ate an apple each morning as she meandered down the dirt roads to work, its crunch made louder by the darkness. She emptied her mind and savoured her surroundings, appreciating each ditch in the road, and the way a particular shrub resembled a sheep as she passed the ‘Welcome to Crockett!’ sign. Sporadic streetlights illuminated her solitary figure like the beacon of a lighthouse.

They had started out as crusaders, underdogs who would come out on top having prevented the end of the world. However, it was clear a few weeks in that without FBI resources, and the very real talents of the Gunmen, they were doomed to exist on the fringes of society, chasing wicker men. On their first night running she had told Mulder that she wouldn’t accept defeat if he didn’t, a memory that now makes her prickle with discomfort. That Scully is a high school student scribbling love hearts on her exercise books. That Scully doesn’t realise that unconditional love is actually anguish, pain, boredom, compromise, rage, sacrifice, not just sometimes but all the time until you’re so far in you can’t see where you stop and the other begins.

She used to feel like Mulder was the one holding the other end of the rope. But while they had been distracted buying cheap second-hand cars with high mileage, crossing state lines, eating store-bought sandwiches in the middle of the night, the rope had frayed and snapped. They each still had their end, but their futile attempts to mend it hurt so much that after a while, she just stopped trying.

*

‘Scully?’

My name, she thought idly as she swam from the depths of sleep. Not my never name, though. Not Dana. It’s my sometimes name. She tried to ignore it, but it repeated until she slowly became aware of her dull head, her dry mouth, of Mulder’s voice coaxing her back to him.

‘Mmmh?’ Forcing her eyes open, she saw Mulder sat on the bed. He didn’t touch her, she noted, and her shoulder shivered in the absence of his hand. The space in the trailer compacted with Mulder’s return. The walls closed in as he crossed the threshold and there wasn’t enough room for her.  She could see his mind humming with thoughts, but not knowing what they were, she would feel like an intruder.

‘You’re asleep again.’ He said with a hint of accusation.

‘Mmmh.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. If she was lucky, she could fall back to sleep quickly.

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘Oh. I ate at work.’

‘That was 6 hours ago.’ She opened her eyes again. It was 8pm already? ‘You were sleeping when I came home at 6, and it looks like you’ve not moved.’

‘I took a sandwich home with me,’ Scully lied. ‘You woke me when you left again, I ate then.’

He met her eyes and she realised she couldn’t remember the last time they’d properly looked at each other. His face was worn. She spied blue paint by his ear. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Like her, he had flecks of grey around his hairline, and his eyes seemed smaller among the creases of his cheeks. But there was energy coursing behind his irises. He can handle this, she realised enviously. This lifestyle suited him.

She shrank as he studied her in return. He had always been interested in her mind, had always valued her level-headed scientific approach. She knew he had found her beautiful at some point, but his true love affair was with her intellect. She counted on the fact that he wouldn’t ever really see her. She liked feeling invisible. But now he had noticed what she saw when she looked at her reflection.

‘Are you eating enough?’ His question landed heavily in her stomach. She circled her left wrist with her right fingers and twisted, drawing confidence from the gap.

‘Yeah.’ She avoided his eyes.

‘Are you sure, Scully?’

‘I told you, I already ate.’

‘You look thin.’

Scully fluffed her pillows and lay back down again. ‘It’s just from being on my feet all day. And the walk there and back.’

‘Do you need a ride there each day? I can get up earlier. I don’t want you –’

‘I’m fine, Mulder. Please.’ She rolled away from him, not caring that she was still fully clothed. She felt sleep stalking her in the periphery and prostrated herself ready for it to snatch her.

*

The first rule Mulder created was that they avoid being in public together, the net result being a lot of alone time for her when her shift finished. She was to go home straight away. He would pick up their groceries on his way home, comfortable with his own vulnerability, but he resisted her attempts at independence beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Every day the trailer was oppressed by afternoon heat. The air refused to move so it felt like she was wading through blankets. She would sleep the afternoons away, passing out so heavily that she felt drugged when she awoke, limbs heavy, clinging on to unconsciousness as her senses fired up. More than once, she thought she was still in her Georgetown apartment, and it took a few minutes to remember. She would try to wake up before Mulder came home, but recently that was proving more challenging.

Her bones were dragging.

*

‘Can you trade with me again?’ Chet arrived at her elbow. She instinctively took a step back. ‘Please?’

‘I told you the last time,’ Scully replied, ‘no. I need to stay here.’

‘Please. I can’t go out there.’ He sounded so desperate that she sighed and scanned the restaurant for the table of girls.

‘I don’t see those girls here,’ she said.

‘That group of girls? With the headbands and the lettermen?’ Chet scoffed. ‘No, not them.’

‘Then who?’ Curious, Scully couldn’t help but look again. She saw in the corner a small girl with brown hair to her shoulders reading a book. ‘That girl over there?’

Chet backed away, his cheeks blushing

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Amanda Jones.’

‘She seems nice?’ Scully asked, unsure of what to say.

‘She is nice.’ He ran his hands over his hair. ‘She’s super smart, and she really thinks about things. She’s not one of those girls you saw the other day…’

‘Those other girls don’t think?’ Scully bristled at Chet’s casual dismissal.

‘I don’t know if they do or not. But they’re not very nice.’ He paused, looking out at Amanda. ‘Please. I can’t go out there.’

Scully sized him up before holding her hand out for his apron. She remembered how teenage love teetered between affirming and soul destroying. The girl looked up and ordered a coffee with such self-possession that even Scully had to admit she was impressed.

*

Dana pulled up outside her mother’s dark house. It was 7pm and she was expected for dinner, but she was met with silence. Her mother’s purse was on the hall table. Shopping sat on the kitchen counters. There was a sweet, fermented smell of rotting fruit.

Professional instincts kicking in, she drew her weapon and checked downstairs before making her way upstairs.  Her mom was on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and congealed blood at her temple.

‘Mom!’ Dana cried as she kneeled beside her. She patted her mother’s cheek urgently, and Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open. Relief washed over Dana and her arms shook as she moved.

‘Dana….’ Maggie whispered. ‘I fell….’

‘Mom, I’m gonna help you,’ Dana was unable to stop her voice from wavering. She held a damp washcloth against the side of her mother’s head. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Two days ago maybe… or three…I’m not really sure.’ Scully held a second wet, clean cloth to her mom’s lips for her to suck. ‘I couldn’t get to the phone….  I’ve been here for such a long time.’

Maggie closed her eyes and went limp. Dana felt her mother’s pulse weaken, and she screamed.

Scully sat bolt upright, throat wheezing as she desperately sucked in air. She panted, sweat rolling down her back as she held her hands out to orient herself. There was the bedside table. There was the side of the bed. There was Mulder, his strong back to her, snoring. Her mother was back at home, and Scully had to believe she was alive and well.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Mulder, and sat on the steps outside. It was warm enough to sit in her t-shirt. She put her arms around her knees and lit a cigarette. She struggled to sleep past 2am these days.

Some nights she would reach around Mulder to wake him with her hands. She would take him in her mouth, and he would push her head until she gagged. Their bodies grew slippery together, and she would dig her nails into his back to gain traction as she sat on him, feeling him plunge into the cavernous depths of her. She would cry his name – his real name - in her throaty voice, the black night their only witness. It was always quick, vicious, and she rarely had her turn although she didn’t want that. She wanted to be entered, to be filled up. They wouldn’t speak after, but the next day there would be a new charge in the current between them which almost made the situation almost bearable.

Most nights, however, she would simply sit outside and smoke. She savoured her secret cigarettes, this tasty rebellion. The orange glow soared through the air like a grown-up sparkler.

The expanse of the stars made her mind spin as she gazed upwards. She remembered her childhood astronomy, spotting the Big Dipper and the Big Bear. She heard her father’s commentary. In these moments, Scully wondered if she was even really there. She might blow away on the wind’s currents, floating higher and higher until she was as far away as the stars. She felt like she was looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope.

*

The day in May came, around which all others moved, and she dragged herself to the café when all her instincts told her to stay in bed and spend the day remembering his gummy smile and the sound of his cry.

The day before, she had eyed a bottle of whiskey as she replenished her clandestine cigarettes on her way home but had ultimately decided against it. Throughout the years they had both tried to escape this day via alcohol. For her, it resulted shame and hazy memories of tear-soaked grief, Mulder’s clumsy hands holding her hair back as she vomited, raging against his strength as he tried to contain her. On his part, he turned inwards, growing snarky, mean and morose. He channelled his energy towards the cruellest insults which swirled in her head for months after. You call yourself a mother? You give him up and then claim to be a mother? You’re a selfish bitch, Scully, that’s what you are, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life.

At the café, she saw Chet hanging around her sink. Her heart sank when he smiled as she approached. She wasn’t sure she could handle him today.

‘Ms Denise!’ He greeted her enthusiastically. ‘I have news.’

Scully said nothing and turned the tap on. Chet wasn’t put off by her indifference, having worked with her for 7 weeks now and seen little else.

‘I was riding home from work yesterday and I saw Amanda had a puncture,’ his thin, reticulin fingers gesticulated as spoke, ‘so I helped her fix it, and we walked home together and had the best conversation. Turns out she’s reading '1984’, which is my favourite book. We both think it’s so clever, you know, how they reduce thought by altering language. Kinda like what’s going on now, all this war on terror talk. You know what I mean?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Man, I can’t believe she actually spoke to me.’

Scully shook her head slightly to refocus. She was bothered by something he said.

‘You love '1984’?’ She asked, looking directly at him. He had shaved his fluff but kept a small, patchy moustache on his baby face. His hair had greasy roots, and she wanted to tell him to take a shower. He was clean and musty at the same time. ‘How old are you, Chet?’

‘I’m 19. I’ll be 20 in October.’

‘Why aren’t you in college?’ She asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows cynically.

‘College? What college am I going to go to?’ He replied, voice squeaking. ‘You’ve seen this town, there’s no college here.’

‘You’re a smart guy.’ Scully seethed at the waste of his potential. ‘There are colleges nearby, with scholarships –‘

‘No, I’m just gonna work here, get some money behind me,’ Chet interrupted. ‘I’ve been talking to Ed, maybe one day I can take over this place.’

‘Chet, you can have bigger dreams than the local café for the next forty years,’ Scully was desperate to make this boy see the world was bigger than this. ‘You can do whatever you want.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t. I’m not that guy.’

‘Chet….’ She saw his face harden.

‘Anyway, what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘What all are your dreams, why are you lecturing me about mine?’ His voice was raised, and Scully’s heart ticked like a metronome on the highest setting. She stepped back from the sink. This was too much attention. ‘You’re hiding something. You don’t wash your hands like a normal person. I reckon a doctor, or surgeon, someone who has to keep clean. And then there’s that cornfed guy working at the motel on the other side of town. Funny how he pops up same week as you, same accent as you, yet you don’t know nothing about anything. So who are you really, Ms Denise?’

He reeled, surprised at his outburst. Scully blinked back tears, her hands shaking as adrenaline bled through her. He reminded her so much of Mulder: observant, passionate, gentle, and he had her number. Yet this wasn’t her mini-Mulder. He was elsewhere celebrating this day with strangers, and she was in a kitchen in small town Texas. She heard waves crash in her ears.

‘I’m nothing,’ she muttered, and pushed past Chet. ‘Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.’

He called her name as she ran out the back door and threw up beside the bins. It felt good. Chunks of apple, half dissolved by acid, lay at her feet, and her teeth chattered. Chet appeared with a glass of water which she took gratefully. Her stomach churned as the water hit, but it stayed down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. He stood next to her, unsure of what to do. ‘Today is a hard day.’

‘I can tell Ed you’re not well,’ Chet said awkwardly. ‘You should go… I can handle it today.’

It was mid-morning by the time she turned down the dirt road towards the trailer park. Mulder would have just left for work, and she wanted to crawl in bed and close off the day. She wasn’t sure what four-year olds were even like: she had a vague recollection of Matthew being into trains. She couldn’t imagine his hair colour, what his voice sounded like, whether he could count to twenty, or if he could do puzzles. She had no idea, and her ignorance of rudimentary childhood development made her feel worse.

On a whim, she ignored her thirst and walked past the trailer park entrance to the natural bushland at the end of the road, lured by the refreshing shades of green. The ground was covered in grass, with natural tracks running between the trees. Leaves and sticks scraped her ankles as she walked, and she soon found herself deep within the bushland, with only the track behind her for navigation.

She walked until her shin bones ached. Suddenly the path dropped away. The cliff was 40 feet or so and framed by the overhanging branches from the nearby trees. A creek ran through the lush valley at the base of the cliff. It looked so quiet, so unspoiled. She crept closer to the drop and looked down to see rocks directly below her. Standing tall, the breeze blew temptingly across her face and her toes crept over the edge. Then the balls of her feet. Her weight shift to her heels. She knew if she closed her eyes, her balance would falter, and who knew which way she would fall? The risk appealed. She felt dizzy. Reckless. Her hands opened by her side, her fingers stretching downwards to feel the breeze on her palms. She imagined feeling weightless.

A rustle next to her made her jump back, her natural instinct to survive proving to be stronger than her desperation to for everything to stop. She fell as she retreated, landing hard on her coccyx. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she heard herself cry. Her chest heaved twice, three times, as she inhaled to support more sobs. Pain dripped like mercury from her fingers. She gripped her hair by its roots and let out a huge scream which echoed around the valley as her rage tumbled out. It was a relief to finally feel something. A fox squirrel shot out from under the scrubland and stood still, eyeing her as she wept. It tilted its head and ran up a tree trunk. Her right fingers wrapped around her left wrist, and she twisted her wrist in the gap. Tears splashed on the rocks beside her.

*

When she got back to the motel, Scully stayed away from the bedroom. She drank three glasses of cold water and took her towel to lie on the grass outside of the trailer, enjoying the solid ground beneath her shoulder blades. Studying the leaves above her, she realised that she still had choices. She could decide things. She could identify her limits, but it came down to how much she was prepared to fight for herself. She was a hologram of the person she used to be, and she wondered if she even had the strength to stand up. Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic lullaby of leaves in the breeze.

She woke when Mulder pulled up. Her sleep had been light, leaving her unusually refreshed. The importance of the day crashed on her chest once more, but she recognised a very, very slight shift in perspective: today could be about more than grief. What should I do with this, she wondered.

‘Scully?’ He approached her with caution, wearing his own memories of this day on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘It’s a nice day.’ She folded her towel and stood. ‘I just wanted to be outside.’

That evening, they sat outside with a beer to toast their son. They talked, though not about William. He was interested in her trip to the bushland. She told him about the sound the trees made, and the squirrel, but not how the whispers of the breeze had dared her to see if she really was immortal.

*

She had grown used to the smell of old cooking oil and grease. It seeped into her skin and her hair. Having been there for two and a half months, it smelled as much like home as anywhere had. Half-way through her shift one Tuesday morning, she asked for a plate of scrambled eggs, which the chef handed to her in surprise. Out back, past the bins, she found Chet on his break, and sat wordlessly beside him.

‘You taking a break today?’ He asked incredulously. ‘You never take a break.’

They had reached a truce after William’s birthday: he chewed her ear off about whatever he wanted, and she offered sparse but pertinent advice. Each day, he brought her some new piece of information about the youth of the town, and she found herself invested in spite of herself.

‘First time for everything,’ she replied, hoping she sounded light, carefree. The fork was awkward in her right hand, plate balanced on her lap. The eggs were yellow and solid; she sliced into them with the side of her fork. They felt like stones clogging her throat. Her mouth salivated as she ate. Scully tried to ignore how heavy the food felt inside her stomach and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Can I eat with you tomorrow too?’

‘Sure thing, Ms Denise.’ Chet balled up the paper from his bacon sandwich. ‘You don’t have to ask.’

She managed half her plate, and fought against the itch in her fingers, the urge to lock herself in the bathroom afterwards.

That afternoon, as she was leaving the Mom and Pop store, Chet and Amanda cycled past. He was in front, and he said something which made her throw her head back in laughter, her hair trailing behind like a mermaid. Scully felt a spark in her chest: a tiny flame, a burst of energy. She drew warmth from its glow.

*

They started to spend the warm evenings outside together, the fog between them slowly dissipating. She told Mulder about the legend of the Ozark Howler, a cat-like creature with horns and glowing eyes. It was said to be found in the Ozarks but there were sightings as far reaching as Texas too. Mulder’s core ignited with new folklore, curling himself towards her in his plastic chair. She presented tidbits of information to him like proud child. They found themselves in a discussion of whether it’s realistic for one cat-like creature to cover so much geography, or if it meant a growing species, and whether that contributed to or undermined its veracity. His eyes narrowed when he learned that Chet had told her about it. Careful Scully, his tone immediately changing, you don’t want to get too close. Keep your distance. She had smiled thinly, ruffled his hair, and walked back inside before he could see her tears because, for just a minute, she had forgotten and they had felt like a normal couple again.

*

‘Mulder?’ Scully approached Mulder as he lay on the couch in the tiny living room reading the papers. Three months in and she could see he was starting to twitch. It wouldn’t be long until he wanted to up sticks, and she wanted to get in first.

‘What’s up, doc?’ He smiled. She sat next to him and pressed her knees together. She had recently bought some dye to patch over her grey hairs. Her cheeks were starting to fill out with her daily plate of eggs, though she still couldn’t consider anything more solid without her palms sweating. She noticed he had started to look at her differently: he had stopped looking through her, and she felt herself take up more space.

‘Mulder…..’ She sighed and looked at the floor. ‘Mulder, I need to go home.’ She glanced up and saw shock, fear, pass over his face.

‘Go home?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘Scully, I can’t…. you know what waits for me there.’

Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to remember Mulder’s sentence: death by lethal injection. The danger had always been real, but somewhere along the way she had lost the sense of it as she had lost herself. With this request, she had to face it once more.

‘There must be a way,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘Please. It’s… I’m …. I’m not doing well. I’m… vanishing.’

‘I know that Scully,’ he said in his crinkly voice that reached into the dark shadows of her. ‘I see you. I think you’re right, I think you may have reached the end of this road. But what choice do I have?’

‘There must be a way,’ she repeated, the lump in her throat making her voice thin and tight. ‘We can email Skinner. I don’t want to leave you. I hate the thought you being by yourself.’ She paused to compose herself and reached for his hand. ‘You’re good at this life. You know how to duck and weave. The threat gives you energy, purpose, as it always has. I see you too, you know.’

 ‘You’re my gal. You’ve always seen all of me.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I know you’re struggling. I don’t know the last time I saw you eat more than a banana. I wake in the night and you’re not there.’ She stiffened but made herself stay in the conversation. It was the first honest talk they’d had in months.  ‘But can you give me some time? Just a little. Please, Scully. Let me get my head around it some more.’

‘Mulder….. There’s Matthew. My Mom.’ She hiccupped the last word, and to her frustration, started to cry, releasing the pressure in her chest. She wiped her eyes. ‘I mean, what is our plan here, exactly? Wait for an apocalypse that we’re powerless to stop? Well, I don’t want to welcome that one without my family. Or maybe it doesn’t happen, and we run for the next 20 years. Or do we draw the line at 30 years? And what happens if you fall from a ladder, or even just get tonsillitis?’

They sat in silence. Mulder had abandoned the newspaper, and Scully circled her wrist. There was still a sizeable gap and her satisfaction at this quickly turned to guilt.   

‘Ok, Scully.’ Mulder said finally, exhaling heavily. ‘Let’s email Skinner. See if there are options.’

*

That Sunday they drove two hours out of town to a random internet café. Mulder set up an email account and then they sent Skinner a cryptic message. Mulder drove three hours in the opposite direction two days later to see his reply, and he didn’t let Scully come. Too conspicuous for both of them to miss a day of work, he’d reasoned. Scully had wanted to throw her coffee mug at the wall in frustration.

They hadn’t spent more than a work shift apart since 2002, and Scully was bereft as she waited. She dropped a stack of plates at work, and spent the afternoon peeking out of the trailer window at the sound of every car rumble. It felt like snakes had taken up residence in her stomach.

She was sat the small table in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of celery, carrots and hummus in front of her. She cried out with relief as she heard the car pull up and ran to hug him as he exited the car. His sweater was soft, and she remembered how solid she felt when her body locked against his.

Once inside, he handed her a printout from the now deleted email account. Scully scanned it, seeing words like pardon, obstruction of justice, requalification, but her mind raced over the email before she could comprehend its meaning. She looked at him expectantly.  

‘It looks like there’s a shot,’ Mulder said nervously, rubbing his palms together. ‘A long shot. Skinner thinks he could get any potential charges against you dropped as long as I continue to lay low. But he thinks there’s a possibility for us both to return.’

‘And we’d be together?’

‘Yes. We could be together.’ He finally slipped a smile. ‘I may not see daylight for the foreseeable future, so I hope you like the anaemic vampiric look.’

Scully covered her face with her hands and pushed all the air out of her lungs. Her fingers were hot, and her head tingled. She laughed, feeling a little light-headed and hysterical. She pictured her Mom’s face and the laugher turned to loud sobs of relief. Mulder kissed her head and held her tightly while she calmed. The energy in his eyes had already been replaced with fear, and she realised the price of the choice he had just made for her. For them.

‘Pack your things Scully,’ He started pulling their bags from the cupboard. ‘We gotta move.’

[manggojooz]

Close the Door Now (Part 1): An Epilogue Series to “Take My Hands Now”

pairing: Jungkook x reader

word count: approx. 2,400

genre: romance, fluff

summary: Jungkook gets a taste of jealousy and is insecure about why you like him despite his past

warnings: some making out at the end (??)

Take My Hands Now Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 (final)

Taglist: @competativekook @flamingorosette  (i’m just tagging you because it’s technically a related series but if you would like to stop being tagged, do let me know ^^)

Comments: this is the most fluff i have written up to now i think. never expected it to turn out this long but i dunno i dun care, i just felt so happy writing it...

“You could do this a little less reluctantly...”, you grumbled at Jungkook who is looking like he would pay a hundred bucks to not be following you right now.

He used to do this day in day out, you could even call it his natural habitat, although now he knows it wasn't really because he enjoyed it. He just never knew what it was like to enjoy anything and such settings had the facade of 'enjoyment', at least.

“That's because I really couldn't be more reluctant. Can we not just watch a movie? Or go to your place? Your mom makes such good food. Why do we have to be here??”, he gripes like a ten year old being dragged to school.

“Are you for real? It’s Hoseok’s birthday today and you want to skip the party?”, you let go of his hand and crossed your arms at him. 

“Yeah about that”, he wiggled his index finger at you, “our friendship goes beyond this, I don’t have to be at the party to celebrate with him. We have our own way of celebrating...”, he narrowed his eyes cheekily. 

“Playing Overwatch for three days straight don't count as celebration... OK then...”, you snatched the fancily-wrapped present out of his other hand and turns to walk towards the familiar manor, “... I’ll just go on my own!”

His eyes jumped around, catching up with your swift actions, first from the parcel that left his hand and then to you walking off towards Hoseok’s house. 

“Are you kidding me?”, he rolls his eyes and huffs, before giving chase after you. 

---

“Hey Jungkook, haven’t seen you around!”, if you didn’t know better, you’d think this guy was chummy with your boyfriend. But you knew better, Jungkook hated his guts, not sure how far that feeling went mutually though. 

“Hey Casper”, Jungkook very, very unwillingly acknowledges him. 

“It’s Jasper... dude...”, he sounded irritated. 

“Oh, Jasper... guess you are less friendly than I remembered you to be”, Jungkook said with a sharp lift of his left brow, and a half-assed smirk. 

You forgot how rude Jungkook could actually be since he was always so sweet to you but this is starting to bring back memories. After all, the first time you met him was right here, in this gigantic living room, surrounded by the same kind of people, under the cover of the same kind of music. Nothing seems to have actually changed, but everything is different.  

You felt his recognisable grip on your hands as he pulls you away from the pack of frat boys. 

“Can we just get the present to Hoseok and leave?”, he insisted. Seeing his constant reluctance, you agreed.

---

Turns out Hoseok wasn’t doing that great on his own birthday. Jungkook could tell with one look and followed him around asking “what’s wrong”, until Hoseok caved and answered that “she called”. 

You eyed Jungkook to take Hoseok somewhere quiet for a while, and so your boyfriend lugged the birthday boy back to his bedroom after telling you to wait somewhere safe for him. He had mouthed the words “guest room” to you while dragging Hoseok away. 

You had killed about ten minutes wandering around in the human-packed living room, then strolling along the chlorine-stenched poolside and even getting yourself a drink from the bar counter. You bumped into a few friends and noticed a few girls staring you down amongst the forest of people. And now here you were, sitting around in the guestroom, intriguing yourself with the number of figurines Hoseok had collected in his glass cabinet.

“You hiding from the party or are you hiding from your boyfriend's ex-es?”, a tacky voice suddenly made you jump. 

“Oh hi Jasper”, you tried to appear collected. 

“You know, it’s a pity that a nice girl like you ended up with Jungkook. I’d hate to see you turn out like the truckload of girls he ruined before. If you think you are any different from them, you may be wrong... But one thing's for sure, you are too good for him”, he walked into the room and took a seat on the couch next to you. 

You shifted just enough to your left to keep a decent space between the two of you. Maybe you were biased against him, but there was a subtle sense of manipulation in his words, which somewhat reminded you of your first encounter with Jungkook. 

“I’m too good for him... he’s too good for me... people will always say such things. It only matters when we think it matters... and I don’t really think so”, you replied in a customarily pleasant way, not entirely thrilled that a stranger was badmouthing your boyfriend so blatantly to you. 

His hand ghosted your thighs before resting on your right knee, causing you to recoil at the contact.

“What I'm trying to say is that you really deserve so much better”, his smile was the only thing that appear to be innocent in the circumstances.

You were just about to swat away his advances when his smiling face disappeared abruptly, his entire body having been hauled off the sofa by Jungkook tugging at his collar.

“How dare you touch her!”, Jungkook shouted at the other man, looking as if he could bite his head off right here right now.

“Woah Jungkook, this isn't like you to get so worked up over one girl...”, Jasper was genuinely surprised by the force of his outburst and shrugs his collar out of Jungkook's hands.

Jungkook was livid and he grabs a handful of the guy's shirt, ready to punish him for talking about you like that.

“Jungkook! No, don’t!”, you gripped tightly onto his forearm which was now raised above his shoulders.

“Don’t ever let me see you near her again, do you hear me?”, Jungkook hisses at Jasper but resisted swinging his fist into the loathsome face, throwing him back down onto the couch. Hoseok quickly squeezes past Jungkook's towering form and collects a horrified Jasper, shoving him out of the room forcefully. 

“I’ll give you guys some time...”, Hoseok whispers, amused and slightly shocked too, and he lightly closes the door behind him. 

---

“Ugh, I just really hate it when anyone else touches you! What more a guy like him! I mean other than the fact that any boyfriend would hate it... what if you know, when he touches you... and it hurts you... and...”, he was pacing around in the guestroom.

“And... ?”, you prompted him to continue. 

“That’s how we started too... what if...”, he said in a much smaller voice and pauses. 

“Oh my gosh, Jeon Jungkook, you gotta be kidding me... you are actually worried that I might like him?!”, your voice was a little too sharp at the end.

“Isn’t it the motherly instinct thing? Isn’t that why you started liking me anyway? Because you could feel that I was hurting... and you pitied me and...”, he proceeded to lean against the edge of the table.

You squeezed your lips tightly together into a straight line, “Who’s been feeding you this?” 

He looks up at you shiftily, “Nobody. I have just been wondering why you would like someone like me... with my horrible reputation and all. And people say it’s like how girls naturally have a thing for pitiful-looking things, it’s something about motherly instincts.” 

“So it’s Hoseok then”, you nodded knowingly. Honestly if Jungkook was troubled by anything, the only person he would have confided in is probably Hoseok, and the lop-sided theory he had developed somewhat confirms it. 

He looks up at you, stunned into silence. How did you know? 

“I don’t think Hoseok is the right choice when it comes to relationship advice”, you sighed. 

He lowers his head, reflecting on his choice to take Hoseok’s words seriously and still bothered by the image of that Jasper chap flirting with you so blatantly.

In the past he had also gotten upset before, when random guys came after the girls who were with him. But that was his ego. This, what he's feeling now, is entirely different. The moment he laid eyes on Jasper smiling at you, the moment he saw his hands resting on your knee, it felt like the whole world was on fire. Just thinking about it now makes him feel like could just combust too.

Luckily your voice that came towards him put out the fire a tiny bit. “Yes, it’s true, there are some instincts involved. But isn’t it just human instincts to want to help someone? And instincts can only get you so far. I can’t believe you think I like you because I pity you”, you rolled your eyes. 

“Then why do you like me?”, he mutters, still staring at the floor.

You walk over to him, slipping your hands through the slit between his arms and his body since he had stuffed his hands into his pockets. Clasping your fingers together behind his back, you lock him into place. Then, you place your chin on his chest, tilting your face up at him so that you could meet his eyes.

He must have been really jealous, upset or just hurt by all his thoughts, given the tiny flutters of pain you could feel throughout your body. 

“I like you because you were this broken only as a result of the love you still had for the people who hurt you. I like you because you knew regret and because you would rather hurt yourself than hurt those you loved. And I like you not only because I felt your pain, but because I felt you change for me, for the better. I like you a lot Jeon Jungkook... just you, only you, ok?”, you smile at him brightly and assuringly. 

If emotions could kill a person, maybe dying from happiness is not too bad, Jungkook thought. Everything had a novelty to him. He never had anyone he could call his, he never had anyone whom he would get jealous over and he never had anyone who made him feel like... he was loved. 

“But come to think of it, it’s kind of unfair isn’t it?”, you suddenly said with a change in tone, while he was still bathing in an emotional shower. “You had so much ‘fun’ before and I never got my chance! If anyone should be jealous, it really should be me right? Do you even know how many dirty looks I was getting from the girls outside? It's so unfair... hmm... where’s that Jasper or Casper guy again...”, you let go of your hold on Jungkook and pretended like you were about to seek out the guy he almost thrashed moments ago. 

“Very funny... let’s see you try...”, he pulls you back without even moving an inch and now his hands were interlocked on the small of your back, holding you tightly against him. You put your palms on his shoulders, gently pushing at him to struggle your way out.

He just smirk-scoffs at your feeble attempt, then darts in to leave a peck on your lips. You closed your eyes for two seconds out of embarrassment, and tried hard to hold back your smile. 

“Let me go...”, you whined. He childishly shook his head, his expression taunting you to try again. 

This time you used your elbows to pry yourself free from his arm-lock around your waist. He smiles but still scoffs a bit, and instead of freeing you, he squeezes you against his body even tighter and kisses you a little harder and longer this time. 

From then on he felt something else being lit within him. “Didn’t you say we will go off after you passed the present to Hoseok? Let’s go now...”, you put your entire forearm on his chest, pushing against it to try to signal to him that you wanted to leave. 

He did not budge at all and when your eyes looked up at him, all his emotions culminated into the intensity with which he stared down at you. 

“I like you a lot too, Y/N... just you, only you”, his voice was barely audible but yet so forceful, causing you to blink at him. 

He kisses you again, softly, taking in every second his lips interacted with yours, reminding himself that he is the one you like. He felt your arms go up around his neck, pulling him closer, so he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His heart literally fluttered when you hummed a blissful sound against his lips. 

It must also be instinct, but perhaps animal instinct, because even when his mind busied itself cautioning him not to hurt you, he really couldn’t resist biting ever so lightly onto your bottom lip, his tongue then quickly brushing over it soothingly. 

He felt you smile against his mouth, your soft lips enveloping his, and then he took the chance, opening his mouth slightly, leading you to part your lips, he slips his tongue into your mouth, entangling with yours. He finally let go of his strong hold on your waist and raises one hand to caress your face, his thumb stroking along your cheekbone. Every time your hand brushed his hair, his neck will shiver a little. 

It felt like everything was in slow motion, but at the same time he felt like time was passing too fast, he never wants this to end. If feelings could kill a person, dying now wouldn't be too bad either.

But time has it ways and just about then, his phone started pinging on rapid fire with notifications and he could only reluctantly break away from you.

Taking his phone out from his pocket, he facepalms and groans while you angled yourself to see the series of messages from Hoseok:  

“I got rid of that guy” 

“and I’m sending this just in case...”

“I will really kill you if you do anything gross in my guestroom”

“and also the lock is spoiled”

“so seriously, don’t do anything there.” 

You burst out into laughter, and rested your forehead on Jungkook’s chest, shoulders trembling from your giggles, cheeks burning from your blushing. Jungkook shakes his head as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket, his other hand patting your hair lightly as he also lets out a chuckle. 

To close the door on doubt and jealousy, is to leave a wider door open for love. 

[sidehowriting]

Can I Say It?

Masterlist in Bio!

A/N: 1st, as of posting my masterlist is not updated because of who I am as a person but it will be by the end of the week!

2nd ITS OCTOBER BITCHES! Hot girl summer WITCH BITCH FALL!! SPOOKY TIME!

Ok, moving on the to real A/N. So this is for the incredible October challenged hosted by @blackirisposts. I’m not gonna post everyday but I have several stories near completion. The next should be the 4th aka my 27th birthday! 

This goes with Hurting Hearts but I don’t think you really need to read that one to enjoy this one. I, personally, love HH so I highly recommend reading it. But I think there’s enough in this one to appreciate it. Also, I tried smut again so apologies. 

Prompt: Forest/Woods

Pairings: Billy x Stacy (established relationship) 

Summary: Stacy loves Billy and wants him to know.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut (fingering, unprotected penis in vagina), swears, angst, fluff, mention of abuse

I leaned against the hood of his signature blue Camaro. The sky was so clear tonight. Every star was out and could be counted. “This is such a nice place,” I said, scooting closer to him. The smoke from his cigarette lingering in the air. “I’m so glad you showed it to me.” 

“And how is it I knew about it before someone who had lived in Hawkins their whole life had?” He playfully nudged my side, making me smile. 

“Maybe because I don’t sleep around,” I quipped. “I’ve never come here just to bang someone in the back of a car.” 

He laughed, then took another long drag of his smoke. “That’s true. That's not your style." 

I hummed in response. Doing it in the back of a car wasn't my style. Too cramped. Not enough space. Of course, I couldn't say for sure but that's how make out sessions were so I could only assume.

The light breeze drifted through the trees bringing a vague scent of pine with it. It was so nice. So relaxing. Bracing myself on the hood, I hoisted my body up to sit. 

Billy gave me the side eye. "Makin' yourself comfortable, sweetheart?"

I smirked. "Always." 

With a final inhale, he finished his cigarette and flicked it away. The concern of it causing a forest fire ran through my mind but I pushed it away. It rained yesterday. It would be fine. 

He came to stand between my legs, his fingers grabbing my hips. "You're lucky you look so fuckin' pretty."

"Am I?" I cocked my head, asking as innocently as possible. "What if I wasn't?"

Leaning down next to my ear he said, "Then I'd have to do something about it."

"Like?" I challenged. 

"You're askin' for it," he said before kissing me hard. My hands clasped his open jacket, pulling him closer to me. 

His fingers deftly moved from my hips, down my legs and up under my skirt. "What?" He asked, moving higher. "Are you… not wearing any panties?"

Keeping my hold tight on his jacket, I shyly shook my head. "You kept taking all my good pairs, so I decided just not to wear any." I had hoped that he would like my decision.

Oh, he did.

The glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips as his tongue poked out made me quiver. "Jesus christ, Stacy." His fingers gripped my upper thigh. "You're gonna fucking kill me." I started to giggle in triumph, but he cut me off with another kiss. Hard and fast and heated. He easily shrugged his jacket off, leaving his torso naked. 

His lips still locked on mine, his tongue still in my mouth, he grabbed my hips again and scooted me down closer to him. With ease, my legs slid around him, trapping him between me. Having him here, pressed so hard against me, had my mind spinning.

My fingers tangled into his curly hair as his lips started down my jaw and to my neck. "Fuck…" I muttered, legs tightening around him. 

"You like that, sweetheart?" He asked teasingly. One of his hands was around my waist while the other snaked its way back up my skirt and between my legs.

"Yes...Billy… oh fuck!" His fingers found my clit. Slow, languid strokes, making my eyes roll back. 

He chuckled, bringing his forehead up to rest against mine. "What was that, princess? I couldn't hear you." 

He slid a finger inside me, thumb still circling my clit. "Jesus… Fuck, Billy."

Gripping his shoulders to steady myself, he had me teetering on the edge within minutes. His intense blue eyes were trained on mine the whole time. They made me shiver, feel naked and vulnerable. No one had ever made me feel this way before. And I loved it.

I couldn't hold his gaze as I came, and he didn't reprimand me for it. My eyes closed as my head fell forward into the crook of his neck. "That's it, sweetheart," he said, still gently fingering me, working me through it. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

Lifting my head back up, I met his eyes briefly before grabbing his face and kissing him. Slow. Passionate. My tongue sliding along his. My heart sped up every time he moaned. Every time he cupped my face. I loved him and I just want to tell him.

“I want you,” I settled on saying instead. My fingers running down his cheeks. “I want you.” 

“You have me, baby.” He brushed his nose against mine, briefly pressing his lips to me. 

I shook my head. “No, like I want you. I wanna have sex.” 

He stepped back, taking me all in. Looking at me like I was crazy. “Now?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Now. On the hood of your car.” 

“Don’t chicks want their first time to be in a bed and shit? Something more romantic?”

I shook my head and started taking off my shirt. “I don’t want that. It’s not us.” I tossed it and my bra to the side. “I want you, Billy Hargrove. Right here. Right now.” 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He started to undo his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. “You don’t have to say it twice.” He wrapped his arms around me, scooting me down the hood farther and hiking up my skirt. He always liked it when I kept the skirt on. 

I opened my legs as wide as they would go, unsure of how much room I would need. He grasped his cock, already hard and leaking. Running his fingers up and down my slit, he commented, "You're so wet."

I smiled as he lined his cock up against it. "Wonder why?"

He flashed his signature smirk before asking, “You sure?” He looked up from where his cock was sitting to my eyes, searching them for any hesitation. Any doubts. 

I should have them. I had spent years fantasizing about this moment and none of them involved doing it on the hood of a car. And with Billy Hargrove nonetheless. But there was no one else I would want to give myself to. 

I nodded, gathering my skirt up as much as I could. “I’m sure.” 

He kissed me once more before starting to push in. “Jesus fuckin’ christ,” he moaned, inching farther inside me. “You’re fuckin’ tight.”

“Thanks,” I said meekly, the burning pain from being stretched making me cringe. 

Billy stopped instantly, looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, taking deep breaths to work through the discomfort. “It’s just… your dick is bigger than your fingers.” My eyes squinted shut as I continued to focus. 

He started to laugh, his body shaking and inadvertently pushing more inside me. I let out a tiny gasp and he quickly apologized. “We’ll go as slow as you need, okay?” When I didn’t open my eyes his hands gently enveloped my face. “Look at me, baby.” As his fingers caressed my flushed skin, I opened my eyes. “Do you wanna keep going?”

I took another deep breath before answering. “Yes. I do. Keep going.” The burning started to fade, and I wanted more of him.  

He nodded before continuing, finally completing sheathing himself inside of me. Keeping still until I said it was alright, he slowly pulled back before thrusting back in.

His moan was loud and vulgar, "Fuck, Stacy…" I couldn't say I was feeling the same pleasure he was.

Not long after he arrived in town, I had started hearing the whispers and rumors. How good Billy was in bed. How he was the best lay any of the girls have had. How they couldn't walk the next day after a night with him. I had a lot of expectations for this moment and they weren't yet met.

The pain and burning had faded, leaving me feeling… well, feeling. There was a dick. It was inside of me. That was that. Deep inside, I could feel the potential. I was on the cusp of pleasure, but I didn’t know how to reach it. 

"You alright?" Billy seemed to sense something was off. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "No, it doesn't hurt. It's just...fine."

"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Billy pulled me in for a quick heated kiss, sending my mind reeling. "Lay back." He commanded firmly. 

"What?"

"Sweetheart, we've been messing around for weeks now. I know how to make you feel good. Now, lay back."

I didn’t question him again. I just laid back on the hood of his car, the cold metal a contrast to my hot back. I let out a small yelp at the sensation, but it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it added to my arousal. 

“I know you like it deep,” Billy groaned, lifting my legs and putting them on his shoulders. “And I know you like it fast.” He pulled almost completely out before slamming back into me, an action he repeated over and over again in quick session. 

Fuck, that boy was right. However he was doing it now was a million times better than before. Each time he pounded back in I was seeing stars. This was what I was missing before and damn I never should have doubted how great this could be.  

Quickly I was panting, getting the breath knocked out of me in the best way possibly with each of his thrusts. “Jesus… Billy… More…” 

“All you gotta do is ask,” he grunted. His curls surrounding his face now sticking to his skin. He looked fucking beautiful. 

Removing one of his hands from my legs, he reached down to where our bodies were now joined and found my clit. I hadn’t realized how sensitive it had become since Billy started to plow into me. My legs started to twitch with each pass of his fingers, my orgasm approaching faster than I thought it would.

As soon as I opened my mouth to talk, he started working my clit faster. “Billy, I’m gonna- FUCK I’m gonna cum!” 

My eyes started to close as I began to peak. “No, you don’t sweetheart.” His voice snapped me out of it. “You’re not getting out of it this time. You gotta look at me when you cum.” With all my might, I did as he said, looking up at him just as the pleasure was consuming me. “Good girl,” he praised, smirking wildly with his tongue sticking out. Fuck, I was done for. 

I screamed, thankful we were in a forest and no one was around. My vision was hazy and full of stars. I couldn’t even tell if I was still looking at Billy or not. All I knew was that every cell in my body felt like it was exploding continuously. I was dazed, exhausted, head all foggy. 

I almost missed how Billy started to thrust more wildly, swearing with each one. How his fingers dug into my flesh as he grunted and stilled. How flushed his whole body looked. 

Together, our breathing started to even out. He gently put my legs down from his shoulders and I hoisted myself up. I could feel liquid leak out of me as Billy pulled out. I knew my skirt would be ruined but I didn’t care. It was worth it. 

Silently, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Our skin sticking to each other from the sweat we worked up. His response was instant, his arm snuck around my bare torso, pulling me chest to chest with him. He initiated slipping in his tongue and I happily let him enter. This was the closeness, intimacy, that I wanted to cherish. 

Cupping his face, my thumb ran over the stubble starting to form on his cheek. I pulled away first, resting my forehead against his. I was still trying to catch my breath.

“How was that for a first time?” He asked, blue eyes staring so intensely into mine. 

“Perfect,” I responded, kissing him again. Quicker this time. Light, peppering kisses that made my heart flutter. He made my heart flutter and fuck do I want him to know that. 

“Billy?” I asked quietly, approaching with caution. I knew what his answer was going to be, but I still had to try. “Can I say it? Please?”

It had been lingering in the air since that night he saw my mom hit me. The night I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I loved him. And when I woke up the next morning and he was still in my bed, I knew he felt the same. Billy Hargrove doesn’t spend the night. But every time I tried to bring it back up, he would shut me down. Either with words or actions, he never let me tell him how much he meant to me. 

This time was no different as he pulled away, the skin that was once covered by him feeling cold. “Stacy…” He ran his hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at me. 

“Billy-”

He grabbed my clothes from the ground and tossed them to me. “I should take you home.” He pulled his jeans back up and grabbed his discarded jacket. 

Frustrated, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “You’re not gonna fuck me then leave.” 

“No,” he said, shrugging me off. “I’m gonna drive you home and make sure you’re safe inside. Then I’m gonna leave.” 

“You can’t just do that,” I protested. 

He put his jacket back on. “Watch me. Now, get dressed.” 

“Billy!” I hopped off the hood of his car. I slipped my shirt back on, not bothering with my bra. “You can’t just ignore me and run away every damn time I try to bring this up.” 

“Yes, I can.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “Now get in the fucking car.” 

I stood my ground. “Why won’t you just let me say it?”

“There’s nothing for you to say.” He took a long drag, the smoke he blew out circling his face. 

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything, alright?”  His voice was starting to rise.

“You don’t have to say it back.” I made sure to lower my own speech, not wanting to start a fight with him. That wasn’t how you won Billy over. “I won’t be upset if you don’t.” 

“Just fucking drop it, Stacy.” His fists clenched as the anger and frustration grew inside of him. He wanted to lash out, but I knew he wouldn’t. “Get in the car. I’m taking you home.” He opened the driver’s side door, the force making it swing open wide. 

“I love you, Billy Hargrove!” I shouted before I could change my mind. “I love you and you’re just going to have to deal with it.” 

He slammed the door shut, the car shaking. “Fucking christ, Stacy.” 

“Why won’t you just let me say it?” I took a tentative step towards him. “Just let me love you.”  

“Because,” he groaned, inhaling his cigarette again. “I’m not the kind of guy you fall in love with.” 

“I’d beg to differ.”

“Fuckin’ drop it, Stacy. Please.” 

“No. Not until you talk to me, Billy.” I grabbed his hand and was surprised when he didn’t pull away. “I promise I won’t be mad at whatever you’re thinkin’.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. I was starting to worry that he wasn’t going to say anything at all. His voice came out shaky when he finally spoke. “You’re so fuckin’ good, Stacy.” 

“You are too, Billy.” 

He shook his head. “I’m not.” He pulled his hand from mine. “Get in the car or I’m leaving you here.” He opened the car door again and got in quickly. I just stood there, staring at him through the windshield. As a threat he started the ignition and pressed the gas. The roar of the engine filling the quiet forest.

When I didn’t move, I saw him slam his palms against the steering wheel. I could vaguely hear his scream of frustration as he pounded the wheel again. His blonde hair flying around his face.  Looking up at me, he collapsed back into his seat, defeated. Taking a long drag of his smoke he hit the steering wheel one last time for good measure. He then turned the car back off, opened the door and got out, flicking his now finished smoke to the ground. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest with me. I want you to stop pretending like you don’t care when you do.” 

“What do you want me to say? That I look forward to seeing you every day? That I can’t stop thinkin’ about you? That you’re the only thing keeping me going in this shithole of a town?”

“If that’s how you feel, then yes,” I replied. 

“Fine! That’s how I feel, okay? I fucking love you, Stacy, and goddamn I hate myself so fucking much for it!” He was pacing and pulling at his hair. 

“Why do you hate yourself?” I asked quietly, trying not to upset him further. 

“Because,” he sighed deeply, “because I don’t deserve to have someone like you in my life.” My heart broke for him. The pain so clearly on his face. “I destroy everything, Stacy. I don’t want you to be a part of that.” 

In a few quick steps I was at his side, wrapping my arms around his middle. He hesitated for only a moment before hugged me back, burying his face into the crook of my neck. My hair a little cushion around him. “I love you, Billy,” I said again. “You don’t get to choose who I want, okay? That’s up to me. And I want you.”

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled. His voice broke and his body started to shake. His grip on me tightened as he softly cried. “Please don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” I clung to him harder, trying my best to give him the reassurance he needed. “I promise.”

Tags: @lancsnerd @teddybeardoctorr

[katedrakeohd]

#Wacky Drabbles No. 11

Happy Birthday Drake

Prompt: " Did you have fun? "

Rated: (M 18+)

Pairing: Damien Nazario × Drake Walker

Tagging wacky drabblers:

@emceesynonymroll @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @speedyoperarascalparty @bbrandy2002 @jessiembruno @brightpinkpeppercorn @mfackenthal @qween-corgis @gardeningourmet @pedudley

Word count: no idea, cuz I wrote it here.

____________

Drake woke up tangled in hotel sheets. Stretching out his limbs lazily with a sigh, the throbbing in his head reminded him of last night's drinking binge.

Rolling over toward his bed partner, he hugs the pillow against his stubbled cheek and gazes into a face with a pair of chocolatey brown eyes and a sleepy smile.

"Good morning Mr. Nazario." He drawls with a smirk.

Damien leans over placing his warm hand on Drake's rough cheek, bringing him in for a soft kiss. "Good morning to you too hot stuff."

Drake kicks off what's left of the sheet, sliding his foot over to nudge against Damien's shin. "Hot stuff huh?"

Tilting his head back to take in Drake's naked profile in the morning light, Damien swallows as his breath catches in his throat. Memories of the drunken night before come back to him in hot passionate flashes of skin on skin.

----

It had been Drake's Birthday, and they'd been at a bar. They were just two anonymous guys at first, nursing tumblers of whiskey and watching the room as they sat on barstools. As the evening wore on and sweaty drunken people wandered over from the dance floor to order mixed drinks full of more ice than alcohol, he and Drake had outlasted them all.

Drake was on his third double whiskey and feeling fairly buzzed and relaxed when he noticed the man at the other end of the bar watching him. Lifting his glass in greeting, he's met with a slight nod and a grin from the other guy.

Damien had been casually watching the tall handsome devil all evening. He'd seen busty drunk girls sidle up to him and flirt but get brushed off with a shake of his head or a sullen frown. He had found it odd that someone so desirable could be so unwilling to accept a date. When the younger man had finally lifted his glass and made eye contact, he'd felt a sizzle of attraction and couldn't help but smile back. It had been a while since Damien had shared the company of a man so attractive, and he decided to take the leap and introduce himself. After downing the rest of his whiskey he fished a handful of bills out of his wallet and placed them on the bar and set his glass on top.

Walking around the corner of the bar, he notices the other guy glance at him and then look away. When he nervously rubs the back of his neck and then shifts his gaze down to the floor, it makes Damien smile. He knows I'm coming over for him.

Damien stops a few feet away, putting a barstool between them and then catches the attention of the bartender. "Excuse me barkeep, what kind of payment does the pool table over there take?"

"It takes coins," Drake interrupts, tossing back the last of his whiskey.

"Wanna play?" Damien asks, with a grin.

Drake gives the man with the dark hair and soulful eyes a quick sweep with his gaze, trying to gauge if he was flirting or just bored. With the amount of alcohol thrumming through his veins at this point his inhibitions were pretty low and he didn't care either way.

"Okay, sure. It's my lucky day and I'm feeling generous so I'll buy the first game."

Damien nods, slapping down a few bills on the bar. "Ok, if you buy the game I'll buy the beers."

Pushing away from the bar, Drake smiles. "Works for me. I'm Drake by the way."

Damien picks up the bottles of beer and then jerks his head in the direction of the table. "Damien. Lead the way."

Taking a sip from the bottle, Damien followed Drake across the room, appreciating the way his straight leg jeans hugged his ass and thighs. That sizzle of attraction buzzed through his veins again, and he took another sip of beer to cool the heat crawling through his belly. Setting the bottles on a side table, Damien peels off his leather jacket and then unbuttons and rolls up his sleeves. He felt very warm and wished he'd opted to wear a tshirt like Drake had. Taking another swallow of beer, he opens the top button on his dress shirt.

Drake shoves his hand in the front pocket of his jeans searching for coins to pay for their game. Damien's eyes are drawn down to his groin and the way he adjusts himself slightly as he digs for coins. Sweet Jesus, the way he fills out his jeans. Or maybe it's just the layers of denim and zipper giving an illusion of more? Fuck, it's indecent the shape of what he's packing.

Drake catches him looking and clears his throat, sending Damien's gaze back up to focus on his face. "So I come to this place often but haven't seen you here before."

Damien leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest. He hesitates a moment, wondering what to tell Drake about himself. "I'm not from here, just passing through between jobs."

Drake takes in the worn quality of Damien's clothing, the scuff on his boots, trying to decipher what he did for a living. There was a slight wrinkle to his cotton shirt as if it hadn't been folded up or seen a hanger for a while. Damien's style wasn't that much different than his own. Wash and wear, throw on the floor, then wear again.

Damien startles Drake out of his idle thoughts, the whiskey was evidently starting to make his mind fuzzy around the edges.

"So you said it was your lucky day. What's so special about today?"

Drake smiles as he puts coins in the pay slot of the pool table and releases the balls for play. "Oh yeah, I said that didn't I? It's my Birthday today."

After Drake straightens back up, Damien claps him hard on the shoulder, and smiles, "Really? Hey that's great man, Happy Birthday."

Drake nods, his shoulder tingling from the slap. He'd only been touched that way by his friends. And for some reason he felt excited about how Damien's slap made his skin tingle. Sucking in a deep breath, he grabs the ball frame and arranges the pool balls on the table for play. "Uh, Okay..Damien. Go grab a couple of cues and let's play."

What was it about this guy that made me want to do things I've never done before? Maybe it's the way he keeps looking at me like I'm a snack. He's so smooth and charming, and commanding but not in a rude or condescending sort of way like I'm used to hearing from the nobility. I kind of like it.

An hour, and three beers each later, Drake was up two games to one. Was Damien really that bad a player or was he just sloppy from the alcohol?

They'd joked about random stuff, talked about women and argued about whose favorite teams were better, ranging from football, baseball to basketball and beyond.

They hadn't realized how late it was until the bar was empty, and the lights went up. The bartender thumped his hand on the bar to get their attention, "Alright guys, it's closing time. You have a tab, now settle it. Call a taxi, stagger home, or whatever, I don't care. But you can't stay here."

Drake looked at Damien's grinning face, and the glassy luster of his eyes. He looked about as drunk as Drake felt. Shrugging into his leather jacket, Damien pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands it to Drake. "Here, pay the man I gotta go take a piss."

Drake's mouth drops open, as he watches Damien shuffle his way to bathroom at the back of the bar. Glancing over at the collection of empty beer bottles on the table, he reluctantly opens the wallet and tries not to look at anything personal. Damien has an impressive wad of cash. There was a mixture of Euros, American and Canadian. Who was this guy?

Drake grabs a bunch of Euros and hands them to the bartender, stealing a glance at his ID before closing the wallet. Damien Nazario, New York City.

There was some other sort of identification card that Drake didn't get a good look at in time before he saw Damien returning from the bathroom.

"All paid up?" Damien asks as Drake nods and hands him back his wallet.

The bartender folds his arms across his chest, giving his head a jerk in the direction of the door. Time to get the fuck out.

Drake and Damien both wave goodbye to the bartender and follow eachother out into the cool evening air. Drake gasps involuntarily, the cool air sobering him up somewhat because he hadn't worn a jacket.

Damien glances up and down the deserted street, not seeing a taxi stand or bus stop in sight. Drake's shoulders are hunched and he has his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked cold. Damien bites his lip, considering their options. He didn't feel like going back to his hotel alone, and he didn't want to see Drake wander off cold and alone on his Birthday either.

Pulling off his jacket he offers it to Drake. "Here you can borrow this. I dunno if we're the same size, but at least you won't be so cold."

Drake looks at Damien, feeling unsure. Offering a jacket to your companion is usually a date night sort of thing. Was Damien suddenly his date? They had just spent the evening drinking and playing pool together, but just by chance. It wasn't a date.

Damien raises his eyebrows in question, "Well? You want it or not? You can walk me back to my hotel and then hand it back."

Drake shrugs, "Yeah, what the Hell. We're just two guys walking up the street together. Nothing unusual about that right?"

"Right."

Drake slides his arms into Damien's leather jacket. It smelled of his cologne, sweat and coffee. Things that were uniquely Damien. Drake liked how it smelled. It was a little tight in the shoulders so Drake didn't zip it up. He appreciated the kind gesture, and it was full of Damien's body heat, which was oddly exciting.

"Thanks." He says, falling into step next to Damien as they head up the sidewalk.

As they walk, Damien did up the buttons of his shirt and unrolled his sleeves to keep himself from getting cold. Although they had spent the past hour together, Damien was only now realizing how much taller Drake was than him. A couple of inches for sure. And in his jacket he came off as broader and bigger as well. This only made Damien want him more. If only for one night, to make Drake's Birthday one to remember.

They don't talk as they walk together. Both entertaining their own thoughts over where this night may be heading. As they approach the front doors of the Hotel, Damien stops walking and grabs Drake by the forearm and pulls him into the dark alley. Drake is off balance as Damien pulls him close and whispers in his ear. "Happy Birthday Drake, did you have fun tonight?"

Struck speechless by the heat of his breath in his ear, all Drake can do is nod.

Damien's voice is a low rumble as he says, "The fun doesn't have to stop yet."

continued...here

[thecoleopterawithana]

Coming Up

This McCartney II (1980) hit single, extremely popular on both sides of the Atlantic, was recorded during the summer of 1979, in circumstances eerily similar to the creation of the first McCartney (1970). 

In a show of the cyclic nature of life and karma that John Lennon would no doubt appreciate, Paul retires once again to his farms to escape the tensions of a crumbling band, focusing on the wonders of music and testing how he could stretch on his own. 

And from his exploration and experimentation emerged an exciting new song.

I originally cut it on my farm in Scotland. I went into the studio each day and just started with a drum track. Then I built it up bit by bit without any idea of how the song was going to turn out. After laying down the drum track, I added guitars and bass, building up the backing track. I did a little version with just me as the nutty professor, doing everything and getting into my own world like a laboratory. The absent-minded professor is what I go like when I'm doing those; you get so into yourself it's weird, crazy. But I liked it.

Then I thought, 'Well, OK, what am I going to do for the voice?' I was working with a vari-speed machine with which you can speed up your voice, or take it down a little bit. That's how the voice sound came about. It's been speeded up slightly and put through an echo machine I was playing around with. I got into all sorts of tricks, and I can't remember how I did half of them, because I was just throwing them all in and anything that sounded good, I kept. And anything I didn't like, I just wiped.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone (26 June 1980).

It was released as a single on April 1980, with a live version recorded in Glasgow, Scotland, during Wings UK tour (17 December 1980), as the first song in the b-side. The latter became the more popular version in America.

I always thought the single was going to be the solo version. We did the song on tour because we wanted to do something the audience hadn't heard before. The live version on the b-side of the single was recorded on the last night of the tour in Glasgow. In America, a lot of the disc jockeys on the top 40 stations picked up on this side and so it became the a-side in the States. It's the b-side in the rest in the world. 

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone (26 June 1980). 

And thanks to all these DJs, one merry day, the letter reached “his brother across the sea”.

Lennon was being driven by Fred Seaman through Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, when he first heard ‘Coming Up’ on the radio. ‘Fuck a pig, it’s Paul,’ he exclaimed, before turning up the volume and nodding along. 'Not bad,’ he decided at the song’s conclusion.

He asked Seaman to buy him a copy of McCartney II and set up a new stereo system in his bedroom specifically so he could listen to it.

The next day, 'Coming Up’ was still rattling around John’s head. 'It’s driving me crackers,’ he told Seaman, before venturing the opinion that even if its parent album was patchy, at least Paul was back trying to do something eclectic and experimental.

– In Man On The Run: Paul McCartney In The 1970s, by Tom Doyle (2013).  

After, when talking to the press, John tried to curb his enthusiasm and come off as unaffected, in that usual way of his.

Somebody asked me what I thought of Paul’s last album and I made some remark like, I thought he was depressed and sad. But then I realized I hadn’t listened to the whole damn thing. I heard one track – the hit “Coming Up,” which I thought was a good piece of work. Then I heard something else that sounded like he was depressed. But I don’t follow their work. I don’t follow Wings, you know. I don’t give a shit what Wings is doing.

–  John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).  

But later, on the day after his birthday, John reiterates his passion for the song and aligns with Paul, not only on his choice of preferred version (solo VS Wings), but he also shares Paul’s frustration with the US single swap.

John: Well, he had a single – it’s on the radio, out here – and I thought that ‘Coming Up’ was great! But I liked the freak version that he made in his barn [more] than that live Glasgow one, you see. I’m – yeah. Hilburn: The one that’s on the album. The one with the speeded up voices? John: Yeah, I think that’s – if I’d been with him, I would have said, “Yes, that’s the one,” too, and I thought that the record company had the nerve changing it round on him. But you know, I know what they mean, they want to hear the real guy singing, but I like the freaky one. Stevie Wonder does it, nobody moans at him. 

– John Lennon in talks with LA Times writer Robert Hilburn. October 10th, 1980 (Hit Factory, New York).

In fact, this song was so impactful for John, that it shook him out of his five-year hiatus, prompting him to get back in the studio and record Double Fantasy. This was something that Paul, in turn, greatly appreciated.

TV GUIDE: At the time of Wings, how competitive were you with your former Beatles band mates?

PAUL: Really competitive. I don’t think any of us would have ever admitted it. I know we would listen to what each other was doing and [think], “Oh, my God, that’s good.” I know for a fact John did once with [my] song ‘Coming Up’. It was on a documentary, I think, about John, where his recording manager at the time said John listened to it and went, “Oh, I’ll have to go back to work.” I found that a very nice fact that I egged John into doing something.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Lisa Bernhard and Steven Reddicliffe for TV Guide: Listen to what the man says (May 1st, 2001).

And again, some years later, he reemphasises.

Apparently John heard it when he was in New York. I saw a John documentary and somebody was saying, ‘I brought this record of Paul’s to John and played it for him.’ John went, 'Oh fuckin’ hell, the bastard’s done something good! I’ve gotta work!' I love the idea of forcing him up off his arse.

– Paul McCartney, in Conversations with McCartney by Paul du Noyer (2015).

And Paul had every reason to be elated by this development. After all, it meant that the message had gotten across the sea, was received and taken to heart by its addressee. 

So what did the letter say, exactly? Well, let’s look into it, shall we?

You want a love to last forever / One that will never fade away / I want to help you with your problem / Stick around, I say

Coming up / Coming up, yeah / Coming up like a flower /Coming up, I say

You want a friend you can rely on / One who will never fade away / And if you're searching for an answer / Stick around, I say

Coming up / Coming up / Coming up like a flower / Coming up, yeah

You want some peace and understanding / So everybody can be free / I know that we can get together / We can make it, stick with me

It's coming up / Coming up / Coming up like a flower / Coming up for you and me

Coming up / Coming up, I say / Coming up like a flower / Coming up, I feel it in my bones / Yeah, yeah yeah yeah

You want a better kind of future / One that everyone can share / You're not alone, we all could use it / Stick around, we're nearly there

Coming up / Coming up everywhere / Coming up like a flower / Coming up for all to share

Coming up, yeah / Coming up, anyway / Coming up like a flower / Coming up

The phrase ‘Coming up’ is used in two ways here:

Coming up like a flower  [as in literally rising out of the ground]

The choice in metaphor could be attributed to the sentiment of renewal, of rebirth, of something Starting Over. 

But besides the more lyrical interpretation, the term ‘flower’ here couldn’t be accidental, as it makes a common appearance in John’s idea of love.  

Q: As Tom Robbins half-facetiously asks in his most recent book, “How do you make love stay?”

John: Trying to possess it makes it go away. Trying to possess somebody makes them go away. Every time you put your finger on it, it slips away. Every time you turn the microscope’s light on, the thing changes so you can never see what it is. As soon as you ask the question, it goes away. Peripheral vision is what it is. There’s no looking directly at it. Try to look at the sun. You go blind, right? Now that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work on it. Love is a flower and you have to water it.

Yoko: Yes. I think that love will never die. Once you know somebody, you can never unknow that person. And knowing is loving. So you can never get out of love. There might be misunderstandings and separating for other reasons, but love is always there. Staying together is just one form of love. Maybe that’s a strong love and expression of love. But love is a soul thing. It always stays there. 

— John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

John’s philosophy and choice in words seem to be heavily inspired by the D. H. Lawrence poem ‘Mess Of Love’.

We've made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woman, a certain woman, all my life That moment I begin to hate her.

The moment I even say to a woman: I love you! --- My love dies down considerably.

The moment love is an understood thing between us, we are sure of it, It's a cold egg, it isn't love any more.

Love is like a flower, it must flower and fade; If it doesn't fade, it is not a flower, It's either an artificial rag blossom, or an immortelle, for the cemetery.

The moment the mind interferes with love, or the will fixes on it, Or the personality assumes it as an attribute, or the ego takes possession of it, It is not love any more, it's just a mess. And we've made a great mess of love, mind-perverted, will-perverted, ego-perverted love. 

In fact, it is not the first time D. H. Lawrence has been referenced in Beatle company. On 23 January 1969, as the band finishes up the day’s sessions in Apple Studios, a visiting Robert Fraser teases Paul about his looks. [Head to the link for self-explaining footage].

Robert: Ah, you look like a Victorian miner now, you know. [Paul laughs]

Paul: Aye.

Robert: A D.H. Lawrence. 

Paul: Well, I can’t afford to mess around here, you know. No.

John: [camp affect] Mess me up baby, in my red-hot fire.

Paul: I’m a golden garter. 

The Victorian miner here could be referring to a young love in D. H. Lawerence’s life:

I believe the nearest I've come to perfect love was with a young coal-miner when I was about 16.  

– D. H. Lawerence, as quoted in My Life and Times, Octave Five, 1918–1923 by Compton MacKenzie.

It’s unclear if John knew of the poet before this exchange, but some months later he was well acquainted with his work.

Love is like a precious plant. You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard, or just think it's gonna get on with itself. You gotta keep watering it. You've got to really look after it, and be careful of it, and keep the flies off and see that it's alright, and nurture it. 

– John Lennon, 'Man of the Decade' Interview (2 December 1969).

And if we want to go further down the rabbit hole, one only has to look at how John and Paul talk about plants to understand what went wrong in the relationship.

When we are in Scotland we plant stuff -- vegetables -- and we'll leave them there, and of their own volition they will push up. And not only will they push up and grow into something, but then they will be good to eat. To me that's an all-time thing. That's fantastic. How clever! Just that things push their own way up and they feed you. 

– Paul McCartney, interviewed for Life Magazine (16 April 1971).  

Because if one the one hand we have 69 John’s view of ‘love is delicate and fragile and has to be carefully taken care of, it has to be nurtured, and inattention and dismissal will make it wither and die’, on the other hand we have Paul’s 71 revelation of ‘wow, I never knew that love could just grow on its own, that it could just naturally push up without your coaxing and continuous care, and on top of that it feeds you, it gives you something instead of just taking!’

(But I’m probably reading too much into that, in spite of it being eerily fitting...). 

But then, we have,

It’s Coming Up [as in something drawing near or approaching, like a... birthday]

There was indeed a special birthday coming up the year this song hit the airwaves. On October 9th, 1980, John Lennon turned 40. And forty seemed to be a relevant age for John and Paul. 

When asked in 1963 what they’d do when the bubble burst, Paul answered:

We’ve thought about it, and probably the thing John and I will do is write songs as we have been doing as a sort of sideline now. We’d probably develop that a bit more, we hope. Who knows, at forty we might not know how to write songs any more.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed for BBC’s ‘Mersey Sound’ (1963).

And John, a couple of years later, in 1965, during a press conference in San Francisco:

If we're still alive, we’ll come back when we're forty and look at the places that looked interesting.

Add to that the Beatles bursting simultaneously, on two separate occasions, into the chorus of ‘The Old Dutch’ song:

We've been together now for forty years!  

And how could we forget John’s wonderful exchange with himself:

Q. I’m sorry. Just a few more questions MR. LENNON, I’m sure you understand I have a deadline… my editor… etc..

A. Alright then, GET ON WITH IT!

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I’d save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually ‘keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein… anyway I’m saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you’re saving quite a lot for when you’re 40..

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don’t believe it.

– John Lennon, interviewed by himself for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine (November 1974).

Paul himself repeats the saying much later in life:

Q: When did you start [painting] in a regular way? 

Paul: When I was forty, somebody said: “Life begins at forty,” so I took them literally and instead of taking it as just a symbolic idea of a time to start something, I really wanted something to start. 

– Paul McCartney, in Paul McCartney: Paintings (1999).

John Lennon is also recorded saying:

Time will tell where the real magic lies. I’m only 40 now when this tape comes out. Paul’s 38.

John, in fact, ended up writing a song titled ‘Life Begins At 40′ in 1980.

They say life begins at forty / Age is just a state of mind / If all that's true / You know, that I've been dead for thirty-nine

And if life begins at forty / Well, I hope it ain't the same / It's been tough enough without that stuff / I don't wanna to be born again

Well, I tried to sweep the slate clean / With a new broom ev'ry day / If that don't work / I'll jerk around until my next birthday

Yeah, life begins at forty / Age is just a state of mind / Well, if all that's true / You know that I've been dead for thirty-nine

He didn’t record it for Double Fantasy, as he intended to give it to Ringo, for inclusion in his upcoming album. 

The same one on which John and Paul had planned to reunite musically.

John finally took Paul up on his offer. He trusted that he and Paul could make it, and was ready to stick with him, to Start Over.

But he wasn’t born again long enough for that. 

Outro

‘Coming Up’ was recently included in Paul McCartney’s 2018 Valentine’s Day Playlist, which is described as “the sound of Paul in love”. 

[Disclaimer: I didn’t come up with all of these connections. For that, I have to thank @sweating-cobwebs for exposing the importance of the upcoming anniversary in the most pleasing way possible, in Vol 4 of Understanding Lennon/McCartney. And a shoutout to @northernsongspeels for unearthing that D. H. Lawerence poem. Quotes are linked to their original posts, where it applies.

I made this post out of the desire to gather in a single place everything about a song that I love, and register its importance as the last love letter Paul sent John while the latter was still alive. It’s both beautiful and tragic that this was the one John finally responded to in the way that was desired.]

[firesoulstuff]

For the domestic prompts requests: "Wait...Is she walking" for Mick and Laurel

Me: Excitedly squeals that someone sent me a Mick/Laurel prompt.

My rabbit: Unimpressed

Thank you so much for this! I never have any good ideas for these two, no one ever prompts them, and I love them so much!

First Steps

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20176588

Mick never saw his life panning out like this.

Never, not once in his wildest dreams. He always thought he would go out in a blaze of glory taking on too many cops in a bank heist by the time he was thirty. At the very least he thought he might waste away in prison. He never thought he would turn his life around, never thought he would get the chance to play the hero, never mind take it. He never thought they would ever be able to change what happened to Sara’s sister, and he never had any reason to believe she would be so much like the rest of them. Lost, and looking for a place to belong.

He never could’ve dreamed that place would end up being with him.

But, through some strange fault in fate, it did.

She started seeking him out whenever she and Sara fought, they’d been apart a long time for her but even longer for Sara. Things had changed, and she said it was in the way he and Sara worked, she thought he could help her adjust. Somehow, in that, they became each other’s confidants and before he knew it, for the first time in four years, he was sober more often than he wasn’t.

Being her friend was nice. They worked together in a way he never has with anyone. She had his back on and off the field, which he can say for most of the rest of the team, but it was different with her. She didn’t just leave him to his demons whenever he had a bad day, she’d grab his hand and drag him down to the training room if she had to. The others, he knew, were always open to talk, but it was easier with her. The shit she went through with Sara when they were younger, she got things the others just didn’t. She knew him.

The first time they slept together, he thought it was a mistake. He’d never cared before about messing up a friendship, but he’d never had a friendship like the one he had with Laurel. Once it was done, though, he couldn’t believe he’d done it. He was nobody’s first choice, he’d long accepted that, and when she inevitably met someone else he would rather it be easier to not lose her presence in his life by not having to tell her someone else he’d slept with her, and have them find out it meant something to him.

Turns out that was something else he never would’ve thought; he is her someone.

For a while they had a friends-with-benefits thing going, and it was great. It was less than a month before the whole team knew, but that was typical when you lived on a ship with eight other people. Even so, he got a little confused when she started leaning close during briefings, kissing him in the galley in the morning, all that stuff. He wasn’t complaining, hell no way was he complaining, but after putting it off for a while he brought it up with her, and then that was it. They were together.

He kept waiting for it to end, for her to wise up and leave him, but the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. He never thought he could have the happiness that they had on that ship. She told him she loved him and he believed her, couldn’t understand why, but believed it. His life was good; something he never thought he could have.

Then, when they were just shy of a year together, something else he never could’ve dreamed happened.

She handed him a positive pregnancy test.

“Well,” he’d said to her, after he’d gotten over the initial shock of the news. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, Birdie.”

She’d kissed him and told him she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s been about a year and a half since that day. The two of them decided to settle down in the present, something else Mick never once imagined himself doing, and got a little place in Central City. Their daughter, Grace Quinn Rory, is currently a month out from her first birthday and straddled comfortably on Laurel’s hip, who is coming into the living room and frowning at her phone.

“My mom can’t sit tonight, something came up at work.”

Ah, well that’s disappointing.

Laurel, obviously disappointed as well, huffs and plops next to him on the couch, swinging Grace around and into her lap.

“Well that sucks.” She mumbles, and while he does agree with her he can’t quite bring himself to share her sentiment, not when Grace is smiling and gurgling happily since being turned around.

He hums, his fingers playing with the ends of his daughter’s curly hair.

“We could send her to Scarlett.” He suggests, but Laurel only sighs even deeper.

“Iris is like, a day away from her due date.” She reminds him, “She can’t be worried about three babies right now, and Barry.”

Right, and that takes out his next two suggestions: Caitlin and Ramon. The whole S.T.A.R. Labs crew has been pulling crazy hours lately, trying to keep Barry home as much as possible.

“I’m sure your mom can sit tomorrow.” He suggests, his brow furrowing a little with worry when Laurel slumps even deeper into the cushions.

“Probably.” She admits, “I was just really looking forward to tonight.” She lolls her head, looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers.

“We haven’t been out in so long.” She groans, and he chuckles, cause it hasn’t been that long.

“And…” she adds, a quick glance down at Grace to be sure she is sufficiently distracted with something. “I had some fun planned for tonight.”

Well, now he’s bummed out.

“We can still do that.” He says quickly, to which she gives him a knowing look that calls bull.

“With the way she’s been sleeping lately?” She asks, and ok, that’s true. Grace had a cold last week, couldn’t sleep at all cause she couldn’t breathe, and even though she’s getting over it she still hasn’t fallen back into a solid sleep pattern.

Right now, though, you would never know that. She’s got as much energy as she always done, like she isn’t only sleeping a few broken hours a night. Nope, she’s thrown herself over Laurel’s arm and is gunning for the remote like she’ll know how to use it once she gets it in her hands.

That gives him an idea.

“Who says we gotta wait for tonight?”

Laurel looks… surprised. Interested, but definitely unsure. So, he stands up and nods at the remote that has Grace so captivated.

“Kid gets into her shows.” He reminds her, “Put some Bubble Guppies on and lets go.”

At first Laurel only gapes at him, but he knows that look she gets when she’s thinking on something, and boy does she have it now.

Their room isn’t more than halfway down the hall, and even with Grace an avid crawler and getting the hang of standing up they’ve already moved most things she could get into out of her potential reach.

“Ok,” she agrees, and then she scoops up the remote, plops Grace on the floor with a sloppy kiss to her head, and within five minutes they’re in their bedroom with the door closed over.

“So, wat’cha got planned?” He asks as she all but shoves him onto the bed.

She’s giggling the whole way, even as he sits back on the mattress and allows her to climb up into his lap.

“Well…” She drawls out, one hand firm on his chest and her breath warm and close enough to tickle at his ear. “I might have to make a few adjustments, Bubble Guppies is only a half hour…”

Never, never, should the words “Bubble Guppies” be said in THAT tone of voice. For as much as he’s always enjoyed the notion of a ticking clock, he never thought a kid’s show would be the timer, and he’s not sure how he feels about being this turned on by it.

Then again, when Laurel is looking at him like she is and her voice has become a purr, he’s pretty sure she could say anything and it would turn him on.

“But…” She goes on, “There are definitely some things I know we-”

The sound of a loud thud from the hall cuts her off. They both listen, most thoughts of their fun moving to the sidelines of their minds. There’s the telltale creek of the floorboards, and another thud. Actually, the thuds are more like slaps. But they sound like they’re against the wall, not the floor, and it’s moving slower than their little speed-demon of a crawler normally-

“Wait…” Laurel drawls, disbelief taken over her voice and her eyes off him and on the door. “Is she walking?”

They’re up within an instant.

She jumps off him, he wastes no time in following her up, and just as he comes up behind her in the doorway she gasps and no sooner has the sound left her mouth that he’s gotten a look into the hall.

He swears he stops breathing for a second.

Grace is standing there, hands against the wall and little head turned towards them, looking at them with those big green eyes of hers like she has no idea why they’re staring back.

“Gracie?” Laurel nearly squeals, stepping into the hall and thus letting him out, squatting down to Gracie’s level. “Did you walk over here all by yourself?!”

A huge grin lights up Gracie’s face, accompanied by a giggle that Laurel exaggeratingly mimics as she holds out her arms.

“Come here!” She calls, “Come to mommy! Come walk to mommy!”

Mick’s honestly not sure if she’s really going to do it. For all they know, she crawled over her then stood herself up. Grace doesn’t look too sure either, but Laurel keeps on calling her, and it isn’t long before she, with that happy smile still on her face, is pushing off the wall and taking slow, stocking steps towards them.

Laurel gasps again, and keeps cheering her on. She almost doesn’t make it, but yet she does, and collapses into her mother’s waiting arms soon as she reaches them.

“Ohh! Good job!” Laurel praises, standing up with Grace cuddled happily against her chest. “You did such a good job!”

He snickers, his smile is probably bright as Grace’s right now, and he reaches his hand over to tickle her, getting her to laugh.

“You’re a big girl munchkin.” He praises her, tickling her some more and getting more laughs until she flops herself into his grasp.

He holds her under her bottom with one arm, and keeps tickling her side with his other hand. She keeps giggling, him and Laurel too, and he presses a kiss to the side of her head.

Mick never once imagined his life would pan out like this, but not in a million years would he ever want it any other way.

“Keep it up,” he tells Grace, “And I’m gonna tell Scarlett you’re coming for him.”