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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

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Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Spencer struggles with being lonely, the team goes out for drinks.

Y/n is not in this part, but she is talked about ;)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Slight angst, backstory

Warnings/Includes: mentions of virginity (16+), feelings of being lonely, teasing from friends

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: i whipped out part two quick as fuck boi ,, i actually really like this story and will definitely be making it multiple parts! i tried really hard to capture the characters personalities, please lmk what you think!!!!

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was not a loner. He had plenty of friends, his mother and her care team, his teammates at the BAU, the friendly old bookkeeper at the library, the nice young barista who made his coffee just right, and not to mention the hundreds of characters on his favorite shows and in his books.

However, Spencer was lonely. He came home to an empty apartment every night, woke up to an empty bed, and shared experiences with only his journals. Each night, the silence of his apartment seemed to grow louder, echoing the emptiness he felt inside. The walls, lined with books, stood as silent companions, offering knowledge but no comfort.

Spencer desperately wanted someone to spend his time with, and talk about his day with, discuss his readings, and findings with. He just wasn’t all that good at sparking conversation with people, especially people who hadn’t committed crimes or needed help understanding material. He could talk someone's ear off about his interests, but those weren’t usually shared by people of interest.

Morgan had suggested he try online dating, if only to practice talking to potential partners before stepping out and trying again in the real world. Spencer despised this idea, the thought that people were now giving up face to face contact to seek love on the internet hurt his brain. It’s not that he was avoiding yet another friendly suggestion to seek partnership, he just wanted to come across it organically.

The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelopes Spencer as he enters the café each morning, a comforting ritual that momentarily eases the ache of solitude. The barista who makes his coffee is very attractive, but of course Spencer doesn’t want to have to find a new coffee shop if things went south with Sam. This one is right on his way to work, and besides, he doesn’t even know if Sam is interested in men. And Spencer does not possess the social skills nor ability to ask and find out without potentially offending yet another perfectly fine person.

“Morning, Spencer! The usual?” Sam asked, flashing a warm smile as he expertly crafted his coffee.

“Yes, thank you,” Spencer replied, hesitating for a moment. “You always get it just right.”

“Well, I try,” Sam laughed, handing over the cup. “See you tomorrow?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves. “Yes, see you.”

Alas, Spencer Reid has resigned to living a very lonesome life as a 27 year old virgin. Not that he is willing to share this information with anyone. He had accidentally confessed to Morgan one night under the false security blanket of alcohol a few years prior, and Derek made it his life mission that night to get Spencer laid. This led to some very awkward and uncomfortable conversation between Spencer and many bar goers, none of which ended in him losing his tightly attached virginity. He thinks, and truly hopes, Derek had forgotten the whole thing as he never mentioned it again. Thank Spok.

Now when Spencer was invited to group outings he rarely agreed, it wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with his team, but he was afraid of letting some personal information slip again. And around profilers, even the smallest slip of tongue can be detrimental. He does agree occasionally, especially if Hotch agrees, because he knows that Aaron will act as his security blanket in place of alcohol. Hotch never lets the team's friendly teasing of Spencer get too far, easily reading his body language and sensing when Spencer is genuinely perturbed. Hotch also does not drink often, needing to get back to Jack and Haley, so Spencer does not feel as much of the odd man out when he now avoids alcohol or leaves earlier than the rest of the bunch.

Tonight in particular, Emily and Derek have laid into each other about their romantic pursuits, or lack thereof. The whole gang is seated at a rounded booth in a bar after closing a case in Virginia, Hotch and Spencer included. Rossi has offered to pay for everyone’s cab fares home to ensure that they can enjoy themselves and let loose. Reid is still skeptical as he remembers his loose lipped blathering to Morgan, but upon seeing even Hotch order a whiskey and coke, he orders himself a dirty Arnold Palmer to sip on.

The bar was alive with the hum of chatter and soft jazz music, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over the gathered team. The clinking of glasses and occasional bursts of laughter from nearby tables added to the lively ambiance, creating a cocoon of camaraderie around their booth.

Across the table, Emily and Derek continued their playful debate over who had the better dating escapades. Their laughter was infectious, but Spencer couldn’t help feeling like a spectator in a world of easy social interactions that seemed just out of reach.

While Emily and Derek compare conquests and bedroom stories, Rossi and Aaron talk about the highs and lows of marriage, JJ and Penelope corner Spencer into a conversation about his own dating life.

JJ leaned in with a teasing smile “So, Spencer, are you seeing anyone special these days?”

Spencer fidgeting with his drink, eyes darting around answered “Um, well, not exactly. I mean, I’ve been quite busy with work and, uh, reading. Lots of reading.”

Penelope nudged JJ with a grin “Come on, Boy Wonder, don’t be shy! You must have someone catching your eye. What about that barista you mentioned once?”

Spencer blushed slightly, stammering “Oh, Sam? He’s just… he’s just good at making coffee. I wouldn’t want to complicate things, you know?”

JJ and Penelope both raised an eyebrow at him. JJ retorting “Spencer, complicating things is half the fun. Besides, you’ll never know unless you try.”

“Exactly! You can’t let those books keep you from finding love. Think of it as an adventure, like your favorite stories.” Penelope said, waving her hand dramatically

Spencer smiled faintly, a hint of wistfulness in his voice “I suppose. But it’s not as simple as turning a page or solving a case. People are… complex.”

JJ nodded in understanding. Spencer laughed softly, relaxing a bit and realized his friends were only trying to help. At least they weren’t trying to set him up with anyone here tonight. “Thanks though, guys. I’ll think about it. But for now, I think I’ll just enjoy the evening.”

JJ and Penelope exchange a knowing glance, satisfied that they’ve at least planted a seed of thought in Spencer’s mind.

Spencer felt a surge of gratitude as he looked around the table. Despite the teasing, he knew JJ and Penelope genuinely cared about him, just as much as Hotch’s quiet presence offered reassurance. It was moments like these that reminded him of the family he had found within the BAU.

Morgan had abruptly ended his conversation with Emily casually leaning in to listen to the girls talk to Reid about his favorite topic, the genius’ love life. Derek raised his voice to be heard over the bar noise and with a mischievous grin said “Hey, Reid, I couldn’t help but overhear you’re looking for someone interesting. You know, you should meet Y/N.”

Spencer was caught off guard hearing Morgan, and realizing he had heard some of their conversation about the barista. Still, now he was intrigued, Spencer raised an eyebrow, curious “Y/N? Who’s that?”

Morgan sat back, feigning nonchalance “Oh, just one of the coolest people I know. She used to be Jack’s nanny, and now she’s a child psychologist at the local hospital. Super smart and amazing with kids.” He was smirking by the time he finished, knowing he had cast his hook.

Now even JJ was joining in with a nod “Yeah, she’s great! Remember that charity event we went to last month? She was the one organizing the whole thing. She’s really passionate about her work.” Charity event? Organized the whole thing? Spencer was getting a little hot under the collar, and he didn’t even know who this Y/n person is.

Penelope began clapping her hands excitedly again, loving that Y/n’s name was brought up. She was eager to add in her own two cents “And she’s got the most amazing style! Always looks like she walked right out of a fashion magazine.”

Emily was now smiling, having caught on, and chiming in “Y/N is definitely someone worth meeting, Spencer. She’s also got a wicked sense of humor—she can hold her own in any conversation, which is pretty rare these days.”

“I would have to agree with Prentiss, I had the pleasure of chatting with her about classic literature—she knows her stuff.” Rossi added, smiling knowingly at Emily.

Emily chuckled, “I remember the first time I met Y/N, she had the entire room laughing within minutes. Trust me, Spencer, you’ll find her refreshingly different.”

Spencer was very intrigued, but cautious “She sounds… interesting. How come I’ve never met her?”

Line, thought Derek.

Hotch finally chimed in, looking genuinely pleased “Y/N’s been a family friend for years. She was fantastic with Jack, and now she’s doing incredible work at the hospital. I didn’t realize she hadn’t met you yet, Spencer. I think you’d get along.”

Sweet, thoughtful Aaron was unaware of the plans his team was cooking up. And yet, the team exchanges knowing glances, silently encouraging Spencer’s interest.

Emily leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You two would have a lot to talk about. I’d love to see you guys meet—you’d probably end up debating over which classic novel is the best.”

“Maybe I should meet her. It would be nice to talk to someone who appreciates literature and has another PhD.” Spencer said, scolding himself slightly for showing his interest so quickly, he hopes no one teases him later.

Spencer was deep inside his own world for a second, thoughtful, mulling over the information. His heart raced at the thought of meeting someone who held such high regard from his entire team, especially the big man himself, Hotchner. The idea of forming a connection both excited and terrified him, his mind racing with doubts.

Will she share all of my interests? I’m not as outgoing as the rest of the team. What if she doesn’t like how awkward I am. What if she doesn’t find my facts interesting?

Morgan smirking, satisfied, sinker “Absolutely, Reid. You should definitely meet her. Who knows, maybe you’ll have more in common than you think.”

Yeah. Maybe.

The conversation shifts back to the group’s ongoing banter, but the seed has been planted in Spencer’s mind. The team continues to subtly encourage his curiosity throughout the remainder of the evening, each eager to see how this new potential connection might unfold.

As the night wore on, Spencer couldn't shake the thought of Y/N. Her name lingered in his mind, a promise of something new and unexpected. The possibility of meeting her felt like an unwritten chapter in his life, waiting to unfold.

#spencer reid fic #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #bau team #bau family #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #david rossi #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fandom

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

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LOVE YEW

on ao3 HERE

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts.

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon.

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him.

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip.

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive.

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek.

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony.

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.”

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!”

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek.

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

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wakemeupcoffee · 8 months ago

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Exploring Australia's Coffee Culture: What's Brewing Down Under?

Welcome to Wake Me Up, where we take you on a journey through Australia's vibrant coffee culture. In this article, we'll delve into the fascinating world of Australian coffee preferences, uncovering the most popular coffee drink in the country. But first, let's talk about the backbone of every great cup of coffee – roasted coffee beans.

Roasted Coffee Beans: The Heart of Australian Coffee Culture

Roasted coffee beans are the foundation of every aromatic cup of coffee enjoyed across Australia. At Wake Me Up Coffee, we understand the importance of sourcing the finest quality beans to ensure a perfect brew every time. Whether you're in Sydney or anywhere else in Australia, our online store offers a wide selection of premium roasted coffee beans to suit every taste preference.

Exploring the Most Popular Coffee Drinks in Australia

Now that we've established the importance of high-quality roasted coffee beans, let's dive into the most popular coffee drinks in Australia. While Aussies have a diverse palate when it comes to coffee, there are a few classics that stand out:

Flat White: A beloved Australian creation, the flat white combines velvety steamed milk with a double shot of espresso, topped with a thin layer of microfoam.

Long Black: For those who prefer a stronger coffee flavor, the long black is a favorite choice. It consists of a double shot of espresso poured over hot water, resulting in a rich and robust brew.

Cappuccino: This Italian-inspired classic remains a popular choice among Australians, featuring equal parts espresso, steamed milk, and frothy milk foam, often sprinkled with chocolate or cinnamon on top.

Where to Find the Best Coffee Beans in Sydney and Online

At Wake Me Up Coffee Beans, we take pride in offering a curated selection of Australian coffee beans online, including single-origin, organic, and specialty blends. Whether you're a coffee connoisseur or just starting your coffee journey, our collection caters to every palate and preference. With just a few clicks, you can have freshly roasted coffee beans delivered straight to your doorstep, ensuring a consistently delicious cup of coffee every morning.

In conclusion, Australia's coffee culture is as diverse and dynamic as the country itself, with a rich array of coffee drinks to suit every taste. From the humble flat white to the bold long black, Aussies take their coffee seriously. And at Wake Me Up, we're here to provide you with the finest roasted coffee beans to elevate your coffee experience. Explore our online store today and discover the difference that quality beans can make in your daily brew.

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clubdionysus · 6 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #34] Speed Dating

warnings: dating other people rip, 5th muster pied piper jeon jungkook, one my fave ever chapters !! just a really good display of the starluvrs dynamic <3

wc: 5.6k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The sound of coffee beans whirring through a grinder obscures the conversations of the couples around you; friends catching up on events of the past weekend, mothers checking in with their sons to make sure they're eating well. There's a complex myriad of relationships within these four cramped walls, unrefined wooden beams and exposed brick providing a sanctuary to escape from the cold winds of the changing seasons.

It reminds you of Yoongi's studio; the slightly woody scent bringing back fond memories - all of which are abruptly forgotten about as Seojoon returns to your table, drinks in hand.

"Thank you," you smile appreciatively as he sets them down on the table.

He was a little late meeting you, thanks to his boss staying late in the office.

"Aiming for a promotion," he had said awkwardly when he was excusing himself. "Up to a senior management position. It's looking promising."

And so you hadn't judged him too harshly for his tardiness. Know that punctuality isn't always your strong point at the best of times. Even if it isn't the best impression so early on in your dating history, you'll let it slide.

You're in the heart of the cafe; privacy not required and not particularly desired either.

It's only your second date. You're still just getting to know one another. Expectations are low, and you're thankful for it. With the mess of Jeongguk and how horribly you seem to have overstepped the boundaries of what a friendship should be, you're glad to be in a situation that comes without complications.

Dating, you think, is simple. Or at least, it should be. You get to know a person, and see if you're compatible. If you're not, it's easy to cut your losses - no hard feelings. The difficulty is when people aren't honest, nor upfront about themselves or their intentions.

Which is why, halfway through your date, Seojoon raises one of his brows in response to your honesty, and asks, "You want me to date other people? In front of you?"

"Well, no," you laugh a little, because the way he phrases it is so... accurate. Setting your coffee down, you're pleased to see that he's smiling. Is obviously taking this in good humour. "I promised my friend I'd help him out with speed dating-"

"Why does he wanna speed date?" Seojoon questions curiously. Thinks the concept is a bit old school - and not in a good way. There's a trivial nature to it. He wonders how likely you'll be able to find a decent match from such a forced scenario. "Can't find a girl? Is there something wrong with him?"

"No," you immediately defend Jeongguk. "He's a barman, and like, not a predator, so his chance to meet people kinda like how we met is limited. Also has, like, a weird complex with tinder. Doesn't like it. Wants to meet someone organically."

"Speed dating is just real-life tinder," Seojoon laughs. "It's not organic."

"Maybe not," you admit, a little dismissive in your tone, 'cause he's being difficult. "But it's real life meetings instead of online, so I think it's a little better."

"And you want me to go... why?"

"Well, 'cause I'm gonna go," you tell him. It's already been decided. Your mind is made up. It's not really a case of wanting Seojoon to go, but knowing that inviting him along is the right thing to do. "And like, it will be fun! I'm not actually gonna be taking it seriously - it's just fun."

"Okay..." He sounds sceptical. "And what about the people who are taking it seriously? What if someone falls head over heels in love with you?"

"Well then you'll have to try extra hard to be the one that I leave with," you tease.

You haven't considered the possibility that maybe he'll find someone else he likes more than he likes you - 'cause you don't actually really care. Not yet. It's too early to be invested. Your guard is still up.

There's something Seojoon finds a little thrilling about your flirtation - but as he sighs, you're reminded of the fact he's older than you. Has a couple of years on Seokjin.

Just like your ex used to get bored of your sometimes childish nature, you fear that the same could be said for Seojoon.

Still, no need to write him off so soon.

Selfishly, you also think that distance is needed between you and Jeongguk - and if you're gonna use anyone as a human barricade, then someone as handsome as Seojoon definitely eases the blow a little.

A cold breeze wafts in through the door as customers leave, but the way Seojoon finally smiles and agrees makes you feel all warm.

"Alright, I'll do it," he agrees. It could be fun. You're fun. Perhaps he does need to lighten up a little. You'd met him when he'd been a few too many drinks deep, and knows that his sober self is far more subdued. Fears that you won't like him as much if he doesn't live up to that first impression. "Where is it? When?"

With an oh-so-pleased grin on your lips, you clap your hands together. "You're the best."

"Tell me something I don't know," he flirts, sipping on his coffee with a slight arrogance. His attitude assures you that no one else will steal any attention from him in the shadowy darkness of a speed dating venue.

And yet when you both arrive at a bar a few blocks from Dionysus the following Friday evening, you find yourself constantly looking over your shoulder just in case Jeongguk should appear.

"He should be here," you jitter about a little nervously, checking the time on your phone. 7:53PM. The event starts in just seven minutes.

"Calm down," Seojoon says kindly, rubbing your arm softly. "I'm sure he's just caught in traffic or something like that."

You nod, tucking your phone into your back pocket. Dressed a little casually in a pair of black jeans with a tight, long-sleeved shirt on top, you're not really trying to attract too much attention. Sure, you're just as glittery as always but it's hardly a cry for attention - it's just who you are as a person.

"Oh, here," Seojoon says as his thumb swipes away a little glitter on your cheek.

The touch should make you swoon. Should make you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Should have you smitten. Smiling, you fold your arms tightly over your chest.

It didn't make you feel any of those things at all. If anything, quite the opposite.

Perhaps you're being a little pathetic, but your glitter is your warpaint. His preening weakens your defences. Suggests there was something wrong with your choices.

You know that's not what it means at all. You know he was just being kind.

But if you wanted help, you would have asked for it.

"Thanks," you say regardless, because you acknowledge he's being a nice guy. You don't want him to feel like he's not being so, just because of your own insecurities.

"You look nice," he compliments sweetly. "Think everyone here is gonna wanna take you home."

You raise a brow in his direction. Glance around the room, then back to him. There are definitely more women than there are men, but the split isn't too far off. About thirty people, give or take.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? I've already seen, like, four women give you a double-take."

He laughs, shaking his head.

"Maybe they were looking at you. Plus," he sucks a little air between his teeth, then nods to the door. You turn to see what he's looking at. "Just saw at least three groups of women stop their conversations as soon as he walked in. Might have some competition."

It's hard to pinpoint what you notice first.

Part of you thinks it's the dark leather belt around his slim waist; silver buckle a little aged, sitting perfectly just above the flat path of his body that leads to somewhere you know far too well.

A lot of it could be the black shirt draped over his shoulders - a button-down with small golden polka dots dappling the almost sheer fabric. A small amount of chest exposed, silver necklaces sit prettily against a chest that looks like it's in need of some glitter.

Most of it, though, is his pretty brown eyes that somehow look a little menacing in this low light. Typically wide and doe-like, there's a little something different about them. Desperately, you have to remind yourself not to curse beneath your breath.

Yet when he gets to the concierge table to sign in, his eyes widen like they so often do, and his nerves are shown in the way he nibbles down on his bottom lip. Eyes glancing around the room, he's seeking something out - and when they land on you, they soften entirely.

"Oh," you simply say. "That's Jeongguk."

And suddenly, Seojoon isn't so sure of himself. Knows he's not a bad-looking guy, but Jeongguk is so insanely different from him. It's not a competition. The two of them are incomparable - and that's why you like Seojoon. You don't want to compare.

"That's your friend?" He double-checks. You nod. Shrug, like you don't get the big deal. Of course you do. You have eyes. "A little warning would have been nice!"

You laugh. "What? He's just a guy. No different to any of the other guys here."

"Oh, we both know that's a lie," he laughs.

"Well, what does it matter?" You tease. "Unless you're trying to score with one of the other girls? You already know I'm not gonna be ditching you for him. Nothing to worry about."

There's a little satisfied smirk on Seojoon's face as he says, "Suppose you're right."

Again, it's not like things between you and Seojoon are deep. Feelings haven't formed to the point of actually feeling territorial.

As he makes his way over to you both, Jeongguk hides his discomfort well. Remembers the conversation earlier in the week when you'd told him Seojoon would be coming. Remember how he'd smiled and said, "Yeah, yeah, no. Sure. Go for it. Invite him. Will be fun."

Then he also remembers the way he'd stood in the shower for 45 minutes completely still with absolutely no cognitive thoughts because everything just felt so overwhelming that he just wanted to think of nothing at all - especially not about you with someone else.

Before he reaches you, the host begins to make an announcement. She welcomes back familiar faces, and introduces herself to those of you who are new. Explains how the evening will go.

There's an equal split; 15 men, 15 women. Decided on a coin toss, women will be the ones to move from table to table. Each person has a number. Yours is 23.

Jeongguk is 7, and Seojoon is 15.

You get three minutes at a table to make an impression, and then you're swiftly moved along to the next person; like a human conveyor belt. Which, in a way, you sort of suppose it is.

The dates start off effortlessly. You've a vodka coke to soften the tension.

None of them are anything to write home about. Of course they aren't. Not when they're competing with two of the most handsome men in the whole wide world.

And so, when you finally get to Jeongguk's table, and he looks at you in the way that he does?

Oh, you'll swoon.

There's not really much thought given to the way he smiles when you sit down; front teeth so sweet and bunny-like as his nose scrunches ever so gently. The domineering, slightly intimidating version of your best friend who had entered the establishment at the start of the evening is gone.

"Okay, okay," he shakes his head. Breathes out a nervous breath. Sorts his posture out. Dramatically waves his hand in front of his face as if he's getting ready for a theatrical performance. "Sorry. Hi. Nice to meet you."

You nod right back. Hide the excitement that's bursting through you like the light of a thousand shooting stars.

His eyes, somehow, seem to be full of them, too. You put it down to the overhead lamps.

Holding your hand out for him to shake, you nod. "Nice to meet you, too. What's your name?"

Oh, it's dumb. So incredibly dumb .

"They call me Tony," he bullshits. You know immediately where his chosen name has come from. You've taken the piss out of his doll collection enough times to be vastly aware of exactly who the figurines are.

"Funny," you smirk, leaning back into the chair. There's a menacing quality to your smile. Jeongguk can't stop himself from smiling, again. "They call me Pepper."

Your knowledge of the intricacies of Tony Stark's various love affairs is limited, but you do know one thing; Pepper Potts is possibly the most important of them all.

You don't mean to insinuate anything more than an acknowledgement of your importance to Jeongguk, but you also don't know the characters as intricately as he does. Don't know that Jeongguk's mile-a-minute brain is only accelerating even further down his path of being hopelessly infatuated with you.

"So tell me, Pepper, what brings a girl like you to a place like this?" He flirts, keeping up the stupid game a little while longer. There are three minutes on the clock. He's making the most of it. Knows he'll wish you were still in front of him as soon as you depart to the next table.

"Got a magnet in my chest," you tell him, reciting lore he told you once when you'd been wrapped up in his duvet, watching MCU films back to back while he'd been studying. "Think there must be some iron around. Can't help but be drawn to it."

He shrugs. Pretends as if the demonstration of the fact you actively listen to him and his passions isn't the hottest thing in the world. "Is that what you're after then, huh? An Iron Man?"

"Maybe," you flirt. "Happen to know where I could find one, Tony ?"

Oh, it's idiotic - and yet you both enjoy the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk smiles. Looks down. Shakes his head. When he looks back up, he's biting down on his bottom lip, but there's a subtle disappointment in his eyes. He's quiet, as he says, "Everyone else is so boring, B."

"You've not met everyone yet," you remind him, but for some reason, you quite enjoy that it's everyone else. You're not included in that. Still, you don't want to discourage him. "And of course you'll have fun with me. You know me."

The clock by the front of the venue continues to tick on. There's only a minute or so left to go.

"I just had a three-minute conversation about porridge," he deadpans. "And before that? Blisters."

"Blisters?"

"Blisters," he confirms with a sigh. "She said her feet hurt and so I asked why and... yeah. Tangent. She wasn't asking me anything back so I just kept asking her more questions about her blisters. Oh, do you get them often? Do you use the special plasters? Like, fucking hell, B."

You're laughing now, and Jeongguk really wishes you wouldn't - mainly because nobody else has found him this funny all evening, and he hates that it's you he's the most compatible with.

From across the room, Seojoon glances over to the sound of you laughing. Is both pleased and disgruntled when he finds it's Jeongguk you're laughing with.

"She definitely thinks you have a foot fetish, now," you tease him.

His cheeks flame to match the colour of the Coke can beside his glass. He decided against alcohol tonight. Knows it's good for lowering inhibitions, but he doesn't want to meet someone like that. Wants to go in with clarity. With a clear head. No distractions or false sense of attraction.

"Fuck," he curses. "She does, doesn't she? That's why she wasn't asking me anything back."

"Oh, she's so gonna warn everyone about it-"

"Fuck," he really whines now. "You gotta make sure everyone knows I don't have a foot fetish."

"Do I?" You smirk. "And don't you have one? I could have sworn-"

"I don't!"

"Sure."

"Since when have I ever done anything with your feet," he hisses under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one hears him.

You just shrug. "You've kissed them once or twice-"

"Oh, please," he scoffs. "That's just cause they were there and I need to kiss something-"

"And you chose my feet?!"

"And you still came, so is this battle you really wanna fight?"

The buzzer on the clock timer sounds, but you don't want to stand up.

You want to bicker with Jeongguk into the early hours of the morning. Wanna bicker all the way to his bedroom - even if he does end up doing unspeakable things with your feet.

It's this realisation that actually makes you stand up.

Your mind flickers between shamelessly indulging how much you like Jeongguk, and reminding yourself that you're here with someone else. Have forced the poor guy into an evening of speed dating.

'Just helping out a friend' had been your rationale, but as you sit down at the table beside Jeongguk and hear him greet the next potential partner, the tremendous upset that washes over you makes it clear that perhaps you'd wanted to keep tabs, too. Make sure that there really is no one he likes as much as you.

You're starting to sound like her, your brain tells you.

And so you greet your next suitor. He's perfectly pleasant. A little older, but still younger than Seojoon. Works downtown at a bank. Plays football normally on Friday evenings, but bailed to come speed dating.

The conversation is nice - but you're not really focused, 'cause you keep on trying to listen in to Jeongguk's conversation instead.

"Yeah, yeah. Dog person, massively. What about you? Cats? Oh cute, do you have one? Yeah sure I'd love to pet it! Do you have any pictures? What do you mean? Not that kind of cat? What do- oh. Oh."

The giggle you splutter is stunted; out of place in the conversation you're having.

Jeongguk glances over to you, and the suppressed smile on your face as you apologise to your 'date' is as clear as anything.

"Sorry, just heard something from another table," you explain. "It distracted me for a second."

And then Jeongguk is smiling too, cheeks a little pink from embarrassment, but the blood from his face has migrated elsewhere.

It's his heart that swells, now.

Eventually, half an hour later, miles away from Jeongguk, you find yourself right where you should be: in front of Seojoon.

"Well, well," you greet. "Fancy seeing you here."

He smiles as you sit down. He's the last on the row, thanks to the fact he didn't sign up till much later than you or Jeongguk. Again, you'd have been here with or without his blessing.

"Y'know, I think I've seen you around before," he playfully says.

You nod. "In your dreams, probably."

Okay, so it's cheesy - but you're joking around. Engaging in an innocent flirt, just like you should be.

"Probably," he agrees. Takes a sip on his drink. Whisky on the rocks. "So tell me more about yourself."

Unlike your conversation with Jeongguk, you don't lie. Don't pretend to be anyone but yourself. With other people, you don't have to play make-believe. With Jeongguk, you already know that 'you' is not what he's after, so why even bother?

"What's there to say?" You suppose with a flirtatious smile. "Barista by day, art curator by night."

"Oh, a double life," he enthuses. "Burning the candle at both ends?"

"No." You're not sure why, but the question irks you. You don't let it show. "Just like keeping myself busy. What about you?"

"Mechanical engineer by day, perpetually tired old man by night," he says. There's a charm to his self-deprecation, but it only further exacerbates your differences. The night is when you come alive.

"Look at us," you tease. "Both burning the candle at both ends."

Even though it irked you, you play up to his humour. Years working in customer service, and now having to schmooze people professionally for Tae, it comes fairly easily to you.

Seojoon laughs. Shakes his head. Is warm in his tone as he says, "When I get that promotion you won't need to worry about working."

You laugh too, because it's an absurd thing to say. Just a funny little joke.

It's your third date. Kind of. You're not sure if you can count this as one, but you're gonna. He's speaking in hypotheticals. The promotion is grounded in reality, but the rest of it - particularly the part where you're a permanent fixture in his life - is just lighthearted banter.

"And then what?" you banter back. Just like with Jeongguk, you're playful. Perhaps Seojoon isn't too dissimilar from him, after all. "We'll move to the suburbs and have 2.4 kids? I can clean all day and cook your dinner for you?"

"Well, yeah," he says, his smile still present but a little less intentional. "Maybe not 2.4. I'm thinking three."

You shudder.

The idea of your body going through something as traumatic as pregnancy three times doesn't bear thinking about. You're not maternal. Sure, maybe one day, in the very distant future when you're settled and secure - with your own finances, and your own sense of stability. The whole concept of childbirth terrifies you. Having a family is something you'd like, but fuck . It's another fear to overcome - and a hell of a fear at that.

It's one that you haven't given much thought to lately.

Of course, when you were head over heels for Seokjin, you thought that maybe your life would look a little bit like that. Could imagine him playing tennis with your child on the weekend. The eldest. A boy, maybe. Or maybe a girl. It didn't really matter what you envisaged. Never really thought about it too hard.

"Oh?" Seojoon questions your immediate reaction. "Not want kids?"

"Well not yet," you laugh. Shrug. Grin as you tease. "Got so much I want to achieve first."

"Such as?" he asks, but his smile isn't really as present as it once was. His eyes look a little stern.

You clear your throat. Sit a little straighter.

"Well, my job for starters. Like, I love what I do, but the curation I was telling you about? The art shows I help out with? I think that's what I really love. That's what I wanna do. I just have no idea how to even properly start."

Working with Taehyung to push his art out has been such a rewarding experience. The feeling you get after a successful art show is unlike any sense of achievement a good day at the cafe could give you.

It's something to be proud of. Yes, it's Taehyung's talent that makes the sales, but it's your networking that gets the right people through the doors. A combined effort.

"But it's fine," Seojoon interrupts before you've really finished your rambling. "I mean it. I wanna work hard so I can provide for my future family. If you and me 'go the distance', then you wouldn't need to work."

You furrow your brows. Look quite affronted. "But I want to work."

"But you wouldn't need to," he insists again, broad shoulders straightening out. There's an air of arrogance to the way he wipes his fingers on a serviette and tosses it down onto the table. "I don't want a partner who's never around. Not if we've got kids."

"So you want a housewife?" You almost accuse.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not if it's her choice," you say defiantly. "But it'll never be my choice."

There's silence between you both. Seojoon's eyes drop, but yours continue to burn into him, affronted by his expectations, and the fact he thought perhaps you would ever shape yourself to fit into his idealised version of a woman.

"Okay, so say you get married," you theorise. It's not playful, now. Not like it was. "Get married, and she gives up everything - house, job, finances. All she does is raise your kids-"

"It's not like I'd be an absent father," he argues, but you don't really care. You're annoyed. There's nothing wrong with a traditional mindset, but you've already had one guy try and push what a woman 'should' be like onto you. You're never gonna let it happen again.

"But you'll be working so hard," you pout. Mock. Project a version of the future that you have no way of accurately predicting. "You'll be in the office all the time, and one thing will lead to another and BAM . Workplace affair-"

"I'd never cheat."

"I've been told that before," you say a little flippantly. "It's life. It happens."

"You're not being fair."

"No, what's not fair is that in the divorce she'll be left with fuck all - just your shitty, snivelly kids. No career, no financial security, no prospects, nothing."

Seojoon grates his jaw a little.

"You're projecting."

"And you're forgetting I'm a woman. I've dated corporate men before. I've heard the horror stories."

"This is literally insane," he laughs. "Like, you're crazy. You can't just assume every man is the same."

"And you can't assume that every woman will be happy with the life you want for them," you laugh right back, disbelief taking hold of your emotions. Scoff. Tut. "So fuckin' backwards."

"Well maybe not every man will be happy with the life you want for them-"

"I don't want my future partner to change their goals or aspirations to suit my needs," you remind him. "I just want them to support my goals, too."

Seojoon frowns. "You're making me sound like an asshole."

You just shrug.

"I don't think I'm making you sound like anything," you sigh. Shake your head. Look down to the dinner table and then back over towards him. "I just..."

There's a realisation floundering around you both; a brief peak into what the future could look like.

And neither of you are happy.

"So... Speed dating is fun," he says sarcastically, trying to inject some humour back into your conversation. He's not a bad guy. He's really not. He just doesn't want the same things that you do.

The buzzer on the clock rings.

Your time is up.

Not just for you and Seojoon; but for everyone.

Fates need to be sealed in brown envelopes.

Leaning against a coffee table, you skim over the second-date slip from the organisers.

On it, is a table listing out every person you dated tonight with a small picture to remind you of them. All you need to do is scribble a big fat cross next to the people you wish to date again.

You put a thick cross in the box next to Seojoon's name, because it feels like that's what you're supposed to do. Hover over the empty box beside Jeon Jeongguk, and hesitate. Half think that you should put a cross in there, too.

If you were to see him on tinder, you'd probably give him a super-like, because it's funny, and what friends do - but this seems a bit more serious than a swipe. So you leave it empty.

Like a black hole, the empty space feels wrong.

But filling it would also be wrong.

Slip handed back into the event hosts, you go to mingle with the ladies. There's an awkward divide, the men on one side of the bar, women on the other.

"So," a woman not much older than yourself nudges your arm. "Who tickled your fancy?"

You hesitate. Remember that there is a right answer and a wrong answer. "Number 15. Seojoon."

"Ohh, yeah he was dishy," she swoons. "Bit too stiff for me, though."

Laughing at her observation, she isn't wrong. "So who did you go for?"

"Number 7. I forget his name but I don't think it matters - half the women here seem to have put him down!"

When she smiles, there's a radiance to her. She's unjaded. Doesn't seem to harbour the resentment of failed relationships, nor the fracture marks of a broken heart. Someone like her would be good for Jeongguk.

You cast your eyes over to where he's talking to some guy who barely even managed to get you interested in him. Everyone else seems pale in comparison to your best friend. Glancing at Seojoon, you feel guilty. You're the one who insisted that he come tonight, and yet you've spent the entire time running laps in your own heart trying to run away from the undeniable feelings you have for Jeongguk. It's all so fucked.

The only thing that gives you even a little bit of comfort is the fact that you know, for a fact, that you and Seojoon won't work. You'll waste no more of his time.

Eventually, the organisers return. Each attendee is given a small brown envelope with the details of mutual matches in them. If you both chose one another, you'll be invited to stay for a second date - this time without the timer. Everyone else will be given a drinks voucher for the bar on the floor below - either to drown their sorrows or give them a little Dutch courage to try again.

Again, the women congregate. Excitedly open their envelopes. You hold back a little. Part of you doesn't want to see a fate you've sealed, knowing full well that you intend on ending things with Seojoon.

And yet, from across the group, you hear a gasp. "I matched! With 15!"

Fucking ouch.

You twist around to see Seojoon smiling at his sheet of paper, then glancing over - presumably to her, but catching you first. He does, at least, look apologetic. Tilts his head for you to come over.

And so you do.

"Look," he sighs. Offers a smile. "We both know after that conversation that this isn't right for us."

Scrunching your face up a little, you nod. Feel relieved, more than anything. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says as he lightly nudges your shoulder. "One of the girls here went to my college, so it was kinda nice talking about it with her."

"Makes sense," you accept, relieved that it's working out in the way that it is. "For the record, though, you were my only choice."

"Oh give over," he laughs, only to realise you're being deadly serious. He looks utterly confused. "Not even your friend? Jeongguk?"

Shaking your head, you shrug. Laugh. "I'm trying to help him find a date."

"Okay?" Seojoon questions. "Is that not what a partner should be? A friend?"

"Stop," you smile. "You'll put ideas in my head - and everyone knows ideas are a dangerous thing for a girl like me."

Looking down at you with a smile you know could steal hearts, just not yours, Seojoon agrees. "For what it's worth, I think you'll achieve everything you want to achieve."

You aren't so sure, but you thank him regardless. Encourage him to retrieve his match and head off for a real date. Tell him not to be a stranger, but realistically know that it's all he'll ever really be to you now.

From across the room, Jeongguk looks at you with a perplexed frown. You're running your thumb beneath the lip of the envelope to check the contents. You've no possible matches, not now your only one has chosen someone else.

You scan the room for your best friend and are surprised to see that he's alone. Holding up your empty envelope, you just shrug.

He reciprocates. Holds up his equally empty envelope, and then mouths, "me too."

Tilting his head to the side, Jeongguk doesn't really understand how you both ended up without a single reciprocated interest, even if the science is glaringly obvious.

You didn't put anyone other than Seojoon.

And Jeongguk didn't put anyone other than you.

Though he's too far away for you to hear, you can read his lips as he smiles and says, "Should we go?"

Glancing behind you one last time, the girl who had been speaking to you earlier catches your attention.

"So?" she asks excitedly. Though her matches came up empty - much like everyone else who chose your best friend - she's still pleased for everyone who got a match. She does seem to have forgotten the part where you told her you'd only written down Seojoon's number, but she's been asking everyone the same question. Is bound to have let a few details slip her mind. "Get a match?"

You smile a little, and then simply say, "Yeah. I think I might have."

There are whispers as you head over to Jeongguk. Gossip. Speculations. Why you? Why not them?

And the answer is simple: How would he ever choose someone else?

"So I know this bar," Jeongguk grins as you come within earshot.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm, it's just around the corner. Called Dionysus. I hear they have, like, a super hot bartender."

"Yeonjun?" You question. "He's a bit young for me."

"Sorry, let me rephrase," Jeongguk enthrals, hand on the small of your back as he guides you out of the venue. "A super hot bar manager ."

"Oh shit, you know, it's funny," you banter back. "I hear he's gonna put my drinks on his tab all night?"

You're a sneaky little bitch. He'll give you that much.

And he'll also give you exactly what you want.

"I think you heard correctly, B."

A small hum of delight escapes your lips as Jeongguk loops his arm around your shoulders. Naturally, your arm wraps around his waist.

"Well, in that case, what are we waiting for?" You giggle. "Let's go get fucked up."

#bad decisions

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