#saying this as someone stuck in pst

[nyxypoo]

kiryu appreciation for his birthday

[021894s]

THE GIRL FROM THE BAR ⭑ lhs (COMING AUGUST 6 @ 6 pm PST)

SYNOPSIS: After a tough workday, you visit a quiet bar to unwind, but are harassed by a persistent stranger. The charming bartender, Heeseung, steps in, defending you, sparking an unexpected conversation. As you connect, you feels your stress melt away, drawn to Heeseung's kindness and charm, setting the stage for a blossoming romance.

GENRE: romance, mutual pining

PAIRING: bartender!heeseung x f!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving)

WC: tbd

REPLY TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST!!!!

It's an unusually quiet Wednesday night when you push open the door of the dimly lit bar. The cool air inside is a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the summer evening. You make your way to the bar and take a seat, the events of your rough day still weighing heavily on your mind.

As you settle onto the stool, a man approaches, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, beautiful," he says, leaning in closer than you'd like.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for this. "Not happening," you reply, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone.

But he doesn't. "C'mon, don't be like that," he persists, his persistence grating on your nerves.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension. "Pretty sure no means no."

You look up to see a man standing behind the bar, his gaze fixed firmly on the man bothering you. The guy scoffs, looking the man up and down. "Oh, and what are you, her boyfriend?"

His expression remains calm, but there's a steely edge to his voice. "No, but I don't need to be to know how to respect women."

The man's bravado falters, and he mutters under his breath, "Whatever, you weren't that hot anyway," before slinking away.

He turns his attention to you, his features softening into a concerned expression. "Sorry about that. We get the average asshole in here every night."

You're momentarily stunned by his beauty, the way his dark hair frames his face, and the warmth in his eyes, his lean build that wasn’t remarkably bulky, but just enough to make your mind race at the thought of being wrapped in those arms. It takes you a second to find your voice. "N-no, it's okay. Thank you for that."

He smiles, a genuine and reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

You manage a small smile in return, feeling the tension of your day begin to melt away. "A gin and tonic, please."

"Coming right up," he says, his hands moving deftly to prepare your drink. You watch him, fascinated by the ease with which he works, the smoothness of his movements.

When he places the drink in front of you, you take a grateful sip, savoring the way the cool liquid seems to calm your frayed nerves. He leans against the counter, his gaze steady on you. "Bad day?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "You could say that. Work was a nightmare. Everything that could go wrong did."

He nods sympathetically. "I know how that feels. Sometimes it seems like the universe just has it out for you."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. "You? I can't imagine someone like you having a bad day."

He chuckles, a low, comforting sound. "Looks can be deceiving. I'm Heeseung, by the way."

"Y/N," you say, offering a small smile in return. "So, what brought you to bartending? Surely someone like you has other options."

He shrugs, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "I needed a job, and I like talking to people. Plus, it's a good way to pay the bills while I figure out what I really want to do."

You take another sip of your drink, feeling the alcohol begin to take the edge off your day. "And what do you really want to do?"

Heeseung's expression turns thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure yet. Something creative, maybe. Music or art. I just know I don't want to be stuck in a nine-to-five grind forever."

You nod in understanding, your eyes sparkling with interest. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, doing what I have to do to get by. It's nice to meet someone who dreams big."

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to take a step back and figure out what makes you happy," Heeseung says, his gaze intent on yours. "Life's too short to be miserable all the time. And you seem like someone who deserves to be happy."

You feel a warmth spread through you, not just from the drink but from the unexpected connection you feel with this charming stranger. You continue talking, sharing stories and laughter, and as the evening wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your day lifting with each passing moment.

Heeseung leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You know, I don't usually see someone as intriguing as you walk through that door. It's a nice change of pace."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can't help but smile. "Well, I'm glad I came in then. I think I needed this more than I realized."

By the time you finish your drink, you realize you haven't felt this relaxed in a long time. "Thank you, Heeseung," you say sincerely. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "Anytime, Y/N. Sometimes all it takes is a good conversation and a little company to turn things around."

You stand up, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn't had before. "I'll definitely be back."

"I'll be here," he says, his eyes lingering on yours. "Looking forward to it."

As you walk out of the bar, your spirits lifted and your mind clearer than it had been in a long time, you can't help but think about when you'll see Heeseung again.

REPLY TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST!!!

[shinraelectricpowercom]

Current Events in Silm fandom rlly reinforce my feeling that, despite claiming an ethos of acceptance/tolerance of anything that doesn't hurt ppl, a lot of ppl in the section of Silm fandom I frequent do follow a set of socially-agreed-upon mores about what concepts are "not acceptable" to discuss or propose (or the ways in which certain topics must be discussed to be acceptable), that you all seem to have agreed on despite the things those mores restrict not being harmful to anyone.

And when someone does say smth that violates those mores, the response is disproportionate to the amount of harm done (which is typically none, imo). I know it's tempting to say "but we just want people to be comfortable and safe", but treating ppl badly for the sin of sharing thoughts you dislike is NOT the same as preventing people from doing things that are harmful. The former is much more of a harmful behavior than the sharing of the thoughts that sets it off. Fannish etiquette, people: you shouldn’t act like someone’s meta makes them morally suspect just because you disagree with it; save the “this is morally bad” for things that are ACTUALLY harmful. We're all stuck on this website together & if you want to have any sort of community, you need to ACT like you're in a community, and that means letting other people say things you dislike. Block them if you need to! I block people all the time because i know it's better for me AND for them if we can both blog in peace.

I am not particularly comfortable with the young-queer-on-tumblr silm fandom rn due to this tendency to rebuke things that are uncomfortable rather than harmful. Maybe that's fine with you. But if your goal is to make all fans feel comfortable and accepted, you need to actually do that. If your goal is to make people who share your unwritten rules comfortable in your space, you need to admit that, and write those rules down, and curate your space so it follows them.

Edited 8:10am PST to clarify the specifics of the behavior I find concerning.

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 7 ✨🚀

[5.5k words, 20 min. read - Lee Know x Fem. Reader - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - NSFW/Smut - Surprisingly Less Vanilla, Testing Alliances, Sabotage and Hijinks, Learning Motives, Minho is Wearing That Shirt with the Zipper™️, Solving Mysteries, Sleeping with the Enemy, Scifi Gun Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Handjobs, Mutual Bondage, Wall Sex, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

It was shortly after 3:00 AM when Jisung finally escaped the damn service access corridors.

And everyone was acting like it was your fault he got in there in the first place, but when Minho had started sabotaging the ship, your first suggestion had been simple and hours previously.

“Seriously? If we just ignore him he’ll stop.”

“Hell no!” Jisung had refused. “And just let him fuck with the ship until he gets bored? Over my dead body.”

By that point Jisung had already ditched the eye patch to get a better look in the corridors, despite you reminding him that Minho’s eyesight was doubly enhanced with both eyes having been serviced. And with how much he’d been switching between chasing Minho in the stale passageways, and working up a sweat dealing with most of the emergencies that the bounty threw at him, Jisung’s hair was starting to resemble Chan’s own frazzled curls. It didn't help that the temperature control seemed to be busted, too. 

And Chan, that dick, only agreed. Too much risk to let Minho have free reign until he got tired of it, supposedly. Having been shoved into the maintenance panels while Changbin and Felix worked on the continuously sabotaged engine and generator, Chan never got his shirt back on after your rendezvous that morning. Instead, he was only working in a pair of shorts along with his boots, a backwards ball cap being the only thing keeping sweat out of his eyes. Even you'd shed your hoodie and resorted to a snug pair of running shorts from your gym bag with a flimsy tank top. 

It was midnight when you finally, successfully suggested a trap. If someone lured Minho closer and locked off the access corridors, then you’d all be able to simply pluck him out and throw him back in the brig. The boys tiredly agreed and Jisung had jumped back into passage through the hatch in his room. You and Chan had bickered over whether you really heard the signal from Jisung, flipped the safety lockdown… and he was trapped, in between two segments with no hatch available. Chan had panicked, trying to manually override the lockdown when the ship lurched, the Ambler’s power being cut for a moment once again. The captain tried the override a second time. Nothing. No lights, no beeps, nothing. Now you had to wait for Changbin to finish his repairs to come take a look. 

The first hour was spent with Chan passive aggressively ribbing you for getting Jisung stuck in the ship. Meanwhile, you could hear Jisung doing the same from inside the walls. 

The second hour saw Jeongin sleepily bringing you both some coffee before taking over the watch shift. Jisung had already given up on being a menace, presumably deciding to try and conserve his energy in the airtight space. 

The third hour had Chan endlessly chatting you up while he attempted not to fall asleep. 

“You know for sure it’s a Clessorian ring?” Chan had drowsily asked. You were both sitting, slumped against the wall of the maintenance panel. He was messing with the long drawstring of your shorts.

“Sure,” you’d nodded. “Minho told me so.”

Chan exhaustedly reeled. “Lee knows?! Jesus christ.”

“What?!” you’d defended, agitated.

“Just,” Chan sighed deeply, “as your captain and potential friend, do not let Hyunjin or Seungmin know about it. They have the lightest fingers on the crew.”

You’d raised an eyebrow at him. “Potential friend?”

“Hell yeah,” Chan had exaggeratedly affirmed. “As long as you don’t try to get your way by fucking me ever again, we can be friends. I have half a mind to leave your ass on Phaborus just on principle.”

“Is that what that’s about?” You’d pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry. I was all worked up. I wanted to talk to you to see why you were deserting me in the first place. We just got… sidetracked.”

“I dunno. Worse places to be stranded than the Hatchery,” Chan flippantly shrugged.

“Oh?” you’d scoffed. “Like where?”

“The guys left without me at Gnullgard before,” Chan named as an example.

You’d sat up then, curious. “You’ve been to Gnullgard?”

There wasn’t much you knew about the rogue space colony. Honestly, not many people knew much of anything about it at all. 

“We didn’t mean to,” Chan had dismissed. “But we were running on fumes. I jumped out to see if we could do some trading while we fueled, and the guys were just gone. It was only an hour or so but that place is rough.”

The ship had lurched then, and the override finally did something. It returned an error signal, but that was better than nothing. Chan punched in the override again on the panel. You were both trying to stay upright but the balance of the ship had been knocked off center.

“It’s the 6-up panel by the knob!” Jisung had yelled out, likely seeing the small signal light pop on in the locked off corridor. “Then the maintenance passcode, and then spin the knob counterclockwise!”

“Counterclockwise,” Chan cursed under his breath, frantically pushing the passcode into the dial pad. The segment door between Jisung’s room and the galley had finally hissed open and you tumbled into the hatch to go check on him. Jisung slumped out, gasping deep. You got his arm around your shoulder and began to drag him out, thankfully tossing him into bed the best you could until the ship righted itself again.

It was after 3:00 AM.

“That sucked,” Jisung wheezed. “Fuck everyone, I’m going to sleep.”

“You did good,” you assured him. You were already trying to formulate a new plan when the ship rocked off balance again, sending you flying into the maintenance panel outside of Jisung’s room. Jisung flopped, boneless, onto the foot of his bed. 

Felix came blustering in, grime smudged into his temples and on his chin from wiping all the sweat off himself. “This shit is so stupid!” he complained. “Can someone please just go in there and drag that asshole out while Changbin tries to save the fucking ship?!”

He held out a blaster to you, and you firmly shook your head.

“Hell no!” you refused, much to Felix’s chagrin. “Jisung’s had one this whole time and the bounty hasn’t taken it, so why should we be armed if he isn’t?”

“Fine,” Felix rolled his eyes, “what about this?” He reached for his belt and grabbed a zap gun to push into your hands. You ogled the thing. These were more than familiar to you, but you never held one. 

Chan reappeared from the galley with two beers, trying to hype you up. “Yeah! That won’t kill him. It’s not even gonna hurt much. It’ll just sting, if anything.”

Felix nodded his agreement and scooted aside to let Chan into Jisung’s cabin.

“Bullshit!” Jisung refuted from out of sight, collapsed on his bed. “You two meatheads would say that. We’re not all military, we didn’t all go through weapons testing.”

“Fine,” you appeased Chan and Felix, taking the zap gun. You did agree, though. You’d taken enough zaps off these things to know they did not just sting. Felix gratefully ran off to continue helping Changbin. You turned so Jisung could hear you, too. “I probably won’t even need to use it. Let’s just finish this shit.”

With that, you clipped the modestly sized gun onto the waistband of your shorts and left Chan and Jisung to recoup. 

These idiots. If you just scoped out the available hiding spots on the ship to begin with like you’d suggested, you could’ve figured out a better trap by now. You checked closets and storage rooms on your way back to your cabin, and then decided to check the room besides yours. There were stacks of junk piled in front, likely from when Felix was clearing out your cabin, and for one second it looked like the hatch in the back was open.

You hopped up on tiptoe to see again. 

No, the hatch was closed. Spooky. 

You peeked into your own room to make sure it was empty, and then ventured out into the workshop to catch Hyunjin up in the loft, dozing under the open bay window. 

More hiding spaces were devoid of life when you made your way through the galley and up to the bridge. Made sense, you supposed. Minho would want more than one escape route if possible. You got up to the bridge and sat yourself at Jisung’s console. Jeongin was melted onto a couch in the back of the bridge, half-awake while on watch. You tried to remember how Jisung said to access the bunk under the console.

“I already checked there, Nova,” Seungmin chirped behind you from his office. 

You got up, your searching eyes leading your feet over. He offered you a sip of his coffee and you kindly refused. “And the old med office?” you asked, thumbing over your shoulder.

He nodded. “First place I checked. You should get some shut-eye; the bounty can’t stay awake forever.”

“Maybe if you help me look we can sleep more peacefully,” you teased him. 

“We?” Seungmin laughed. “Like in the same bed?”

“Whoa there,” you chuckled, “never said that. Unless.”

“Nope, no,” Seungmin shook his head with a grin, “you don’t want me to fall for you. I get jealous. Now shoo, before I trap you in here with me.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but not without Seungmin cheekily stopping you to return the zap gun. How’d he do that? You puzzled over this as you walked back down to the galley.

A sharp gasp met you when you rounded out of the spiral staircase. Chan.

“This is going on far too long,” he nagged. 

“Well,” you retorted, squaring up with him, “if we just did what I said in the first place and devised a trap for him we would've had him by now!”

Chan reeled back. “Holy shit, still with the traps?!”

“I mean!” you defended. “You geniuses decided to just go blundering into the service corridors, and then we stopped for lunch, then the power went out for three hours, and then it was back into the stupid service access!”

The captain wheeled around, agitatedly walking away a couple steps before coming back. “Fine. You want to set a trap?”

“Yes, you dick!”

“Alright then!” 

Chan snapped a pair of cuffs on you before you even knew what was happening. To capitalize on your surprise, he promptly threw you over his shoulder and marched you back through the galley and into the workshop. You cursed and wriggled in his grip, even trying to unscrew his arm from its socket before he kicked in the door to your cabin. 

He unceremoniously dumped you in the bed and stooped down, hands perched on his knees to get a good look at you. “You want to set a trap so bad? Here’s your fucking trap, you stubborn bitch. You're such good friends, you’re the bait. You have your gun. I’m going to sleep. Lee better be back in the hold when I get up. Goodnight!”

You stared, mouth agape and pissed as hell while Chan simply walked out, locking the door behind him. It took you a solid second to collect yourself and run to the door, uselessly trying it even though you knew he beeped it closed with the electric key in his palm. There was no getting out this way. Maybe, you realized, if you made your way over to Jisung’s cabin again, you could wake him up and make him help you. 

Getting down to the hatch was a whole other task though, being an incredibly awkward task with your hands cuffed together. You attempted to get them open. How did Minho even do this? You impatiently gave up on the cuffs and fumbled the door of the hatch open, and then clumsily shambled inside. 

This early in the morning, it was still and quiet in the service corridor. It seemed that, for now, Seungmin was right and Minho had taken a break. A light in the hall caught your attention, though. There was a faint beam, small but unmistakably emanating from the room beside yours. Sure enough, the hatch was open. You peeked inside. Maybe the lamp turned on amongst all the power outages on board? You climbed up, taking a look from this new vantage point before turning off the lamp. 

Except you should've known better. Obviously, you should've known better. You jumped at the sound of the hatch closing behind you, and there was Minho. It felt like he was taller now. You gasped and tried to take a step back but he’d already pounced on you, lifting your cuffed wrists over your head and hanging them on the coat hook on the outside of the closet. 

“This is it?” he laughed. “This is your grand plan?”

You uselessly squirmed in the cuffs, up on your toes from your extended limbs. By now, after a long day of hijinks, Minho had shed a couple layers and was left with his shirt, trousers, and boots. He turned, possibly searching for somewhere to affectionately observe his prize, when you spied his own blacked out barcode on his neck. Even the outlaw had been a Marine? Seemed like half everyone was. Minho finally pulled over a box of junk and sat atop it, the chair at the desk currently penned in by a different stack. His knees brushed your legs while you tried to get the cuffs open. 

“Really thought we had something special, Nova,” Minho pouted with a chuckle. “What’s been keeping you? Still out philandering?”

“Me? Philandering?” you parroted with a tired giggle. “Says the one who practically ate Jisung alive. And he says you’re a huge womanizer, by the way. Pots and kettles.”

“What, you mean Momo?” Minho shrugged. “Poor girl has the wrong idea about us. I never told her to fall for me. I never told her to abandon her family and become a rebel.”

You rolled your eyes. “Great story. Unless you're lying.”

Minho eased back up onto his feet. “Why would I lie? I only have eyes for one woman anyway.”

His mischievous eyes lit up when he got his hands on your hips, ready to toy with you and tease you.

You shuddered, but still tried to keep your resolve. For some reason, Minho seemed more intimidating face to face. “Yeah?” you taunted. “Prove it, lover boy.”

“Can't,” Minho pretended to frown. “I’m too scared of your big, scary gun.”

“That’s not scary,” you refuted. “What’s scary is what’s in store for you in Victory Meridian.”

By now, Minho was pressed up, hip to hip with you where he had you strung up against the closet. His length was unmistakably growing harder against you. You tried to stay focused. 

“The only scary thing going on in Victory Meridian is my arrival there,” Minho assured you. His thumb reached up to stroke your cheek. 

“You’re out of the brig and you’re still going to Daedalus?” you shot back, trying to keep your composure. “You could steal me and we could run away, back to T’kaarm or wherever you want.”

“Sure, I want to go back to Daedalus,” nodded Minho. He was staring at your lips. “If I don’t, you’re not going to get a piece of this payout. Don’t you want it? I come with a pretty big price tag. It’d last you a long time.”

Damn it all, you were caught up staring at Minho, too. Only it was the goddamn zipper at the collar of his shirt. You were wondering if Jisung got to take a bite out of Minho, too…

When you finally got the fucking cuffs open. 

Everything happened far too fast. You collapsed off of the closet door and onto Minho, getting the jump on him. He tried grabbing your wrist, but you yanked it out of his grip. The cuffs landed on his chest in the scuffle. Thinking fast, you grabbed for them, but caught the zip on his collar in the process.

What happened next shouldn't have been surprising. 

There was the chain he was fiddling with… And the ring was at the end of it. 

You felt your eyes widen. Instantly, you drew the zap gun and pointed it under his chin, your other hand balled in his shirt. Minho cracked a pleased grin up at you. 

“I know you’re so scared of this,” you growled, “but I bet I can find a way to make it hurt. Now give me the ring back.”

Minho clucked his doubt at you. “Why should you get it? I've had it this whole time. I've done everything but tell you I have it!”

“It was too obvious!” you whined. 

“Too obvious means you get that out of the way first, Nova!” Minho blustered back. In your distraction, you’d somehow allowed him to steal the cuffs back and snap one side onto your wrist, handicapping the hand holding your gun. 

Minho tried to grab your other wrist so he could cuff it, too, but you dropped the gun. You wrestled on the floor for a minute, knees knocking and legs tangling before you were able to snatch the other cuff and secure it around his own wrist. Minho grunted and tried to override the cuffs, but you yanked back, falling back in a slouch against the closet door again and pulling him up between your legs. Your free hand fumbled for the zap gun and got it just in time to fire it, purposefully grazing his shoulder with the shot. 

Minho yowled, cursing as he clapped his cuffed hand to his shoulder. You pressed the barrel to his cheek. 

“Give me the ring, Minho,” you warned. 

“You got a hell of a lot of grit,” he observed. “I had Jisung sweating by now.”

“I’m sure you were pulling out all the stops,” you rolled your eyes. 

Minho didn't retort. Instead, he nosed aside the barrel of the zap gun, even teasing his lips around the end and flicking the metal with his tongue. You got distracted for a hot second before you jerked the gun away, aiming for his chest this time and pulling the trigger. He jumped at the sound, but was too pleased with himself when the weapon failed to fire. You hazarded a glance. The stupid thing hadn't charged another shot yet. 

“Even Jisung didn't pull a gun on me,” Minho teased, easily taking it from you and sending it clattering to the floor. 

“Yeah, well,” you huffed, “he had a blaster. He probably didn't want to blow a hole in the ship.”

“Well he sure blew something,” Minho devilishly grinned. “I like Jisung. He's cute. He’s spunky.”

“Then why are you giving me a hard time?” you razzed him. “Jisung is all alone in his cabin, and his pride’s all hurt. He’s even cuter now.”

“Like I said,” Minho shrugged. “He has spunk. You have grit. I think he has way too much skin in the game, but you? You're practically brand new.”

You took a second to try and snake a hand into Minho’s shirt while he was trying and mostly succeeding in keeping your attention. He took quick notice, however, and rolled you both over, but not without you getting a hand around the ring and yanking. 

The chain broke instantly, sending the ring skidding under the bed. Minho grabbed your other wrist, pinning both your hands over your head. “Fuck, you're cute,” he marveled. “Is that why you left T’kaarm? To join the big leagues?”

You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s hips, pleasantly surprising him before you used your grip to toss him off of you. The momentum of your joined wrists, however, sent you tumbling after him but you saved it. You were haphazardly straddling one of his legs where he was propped up against a pile of junk. “My leaving the Spaceport has nothing to do with my line of work,” you clarified. “I'd really just prefer to start over new. But you're making it really difficult to do that if you're not going to give me the ring.”

You managed to grab the gun again but it was a second too late. A curse squeaked out of you when Minho easily got up onto his feet, dragging you along until he could all too simply herd you back against the closet door and hang your conjoined wrists on the coat hook again. Right back to square one, except now Minho had one hand occupied. 

“What’ll you give me for it, rookie?” he softly asked, the lilt in his voice darkly smooth like honey. 

You really needed to stay focused here. It was quickly becoming apparent that Minho had plenty of skills that likely contributed to his reputation. You edged the zap gun in between where your hips met. This time, a faint whirring when you clicked the safety switch to Prime let you know it successfully charged. 

Minho's eyes darted down to where the barrel of the gun rubbed up against his dick. His free hand was pushed flat against your hip, trying to create distance. 

“Fuck, you’re cute,” you sweetly mocked. “How about instead of me giving you something, I let you keep that big price tag you come with.”

“You’re making it real hard to stay on track here, Nova,” Minho warned. He licked his lips, like his mouth had gone dry. Overhead, your fingers kept brushing against his where you were cuffed together. 

“You’ll probably be super happy to hear you’re having the same effect,” you shot back. It was awkward to handle the zap gun with your non-dominant hand. 

Minho was staring at your lips, his eyelids heavy while he absently nodded. “So we agree.”

The tension was plush, hot between you. “Looks like it,” you nodded back. “We should just take care of it before it clouds our judgment too much.”

“Thank god,” Minho roughly exhaled. “I thought you were going to make me ask for it.”

There was no time for second thoughts. Minho leaned closer immediately, your lips crashing together for a heated kiss. His free hand grabbed into your waist, clutching you closer when your exploring tongues searched each other. It wasn’t long before he was toying with the waistband of your shorts. 

“Need me to slow down?” he asked, lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You could feel him smile when you shook your head. “No, hurry up.”

Your continued grip on the zap gun may have been to simply keep hold of anything while you felt Minho’s slender fingers gently slip inside you. He groaned softly at the feel of your wetness enveloping him. For some reason, you were apprehensive to touch him in return. Was Minho actually making you a bit bashful?

Minho seemed to catch on to this. His nose nudged your own to look at him again. “Touch me, Nova, please,” he sweetly urged. “You have no idea how bad I need it.”

Trying to keep your wits about you, you instead massaged the barrel of the zap gun into his length. Minho buckled at the knees with a rough moan. However, he only got needier. The rogue caught your lips against his again, and his ravenous tongue attempted to mask his gasps, sounding more and more like whimpers. Each one got you wetter and wetter, you could tell just by how Minho’s fingers felt inside you. And while you tried to talk yourself up to finally giving in and touching him, he seemed to sense your need for a push. He suddenly withdrew his fingers from your heat, instead settling to rub you between your legs.

“Please, Nova,” he croaked. “Touch me or you’re cumming like this.”

That did it. You dropped the zap gun in a heartbeat and instantly fumbled with Minho’s belt, a little difficult to do with only your other hand. Overhead, Minho was gripping onto your wrist for support while he touched you again.

His rigid member was pulsing hot in your hand and he shivered, groaning against your mouth while you stroked him. He was practically thrusting into your hand, spreading the precum that had beaded on the head along his length. It was your turn to nudge his attention toward you again, tempting his tongue to play with yours again while he was panting and groaning under your touch.

“Come on, Minho,” you pleaded, “I’m soaked, you’re hard, how long until you fuck me?”

“Just a little bit more,” he whined. He choked out a curse when you stroked him harder, using the motion to pull him closer. “Or that’s good, too,” he relented. His fingers pulled out of your heat again, but now he was pulling the crotch of your shorts aside and grabbing your leg up against him. The velvety smooth head of his cock edged up against your entrance and he leaned back an inch, almost as if he wanted to see you take him inside you. 

Your head pressed back into the closet door, your back arching your chest out against him when you felt Minho slide into you. The both of you groaned in unison.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, loving how it felt when he settled inside you.

“More,” Minho urged, “I know you can take it deeper.”

You almost questioned this before Minho’s hand scooped under your ass to pick you up against him, his hips pinning you to the door and falling deeper into you, just like he said. You cried out at the immediate headrush. Minho’s eyes rolled back from the feel of your soaked pussy holding him so deep.

“So tight like this,” he praised. “Now hold on to me while I fuck you.”

You did as you were told, not out of obedience but out of necessity, wrapping your free arm around Minho’s shoulders so you were more steady. This was a great vantage point to keep aiming little taunts and praises and moans straight into his ear, begging and begging him to pound you harder, deeper. To keep you both secure in this position, he was pretty much grinding deep into you. His length was reaching just enough into your spot that you were seeing stars.

It felt like Minho fucked you for hours but you knew your mind was only clouded by how relieving this was. Your fling with Jisung had felt more calculated, and Chan’s came with so much baggage, but Minho? It felt like you two were just doing each other a huge favor. It didn’t help that he was handsome, and you had some sort of rapport going on, but more than anything it felt good to simply indulge for a second, even if you had to end up handcuffed together to do it–

Oh, god.

While your mind clouded and condensed into white noise, you’d gotten closer to climax. You clutched harder onto Minho, raking your fingers into his hair.

“Don’t stop,” you demanded, “you’re going to get me there!”

“Oh yeah?” Minho teased, clearly proud of himself. Maybe he needed this just as much. “Are you going to cum on my cock?”

“Yes, yes,” you miserably nodded, fighting the fast-approaching peak as much as you could.

“Good,” assured Minho, his hold death-gripping you against him. “I’m going to get there, too – oh, oh fuck–”

You cried out at the same time Minho threw his head back with a thick groan, your highs hitting at the same time. Your walls contracted and spasmed around his pulsating length, milking him of every damn drop he had to give. 

By the time you were done, you were both trembling in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. You stayed like that, holding each other for a minute. His breath was comforting against you. In your fervor, you’d pulled the back of his shirt collar down, and you blithely observed another tattoo, lower under his own blacked out barcode, on his spine. A medic crest. Huh.

Minho gently pulled out of you and let your legs down before he extended his cuffed hand up, unhooking you both from the closet door. He took his time letting your muscles stretch back to normal.

“I like you, you know,” he nonchalantly mentioned. “But you have a lot to learn. It was too obvious that I had the ring? What does that even mean?!”

You gawped at him, yanking your linked wrists just so you could shove him. He grabbed at your arm in return.

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, pestering him by pinching at his shirt. “You would just go after a guy that was being as reckless as you were? It’s almost like–”

Your finger caught the ring of his shirt’s zipper, pulling down. Yet another mark was revealed, this time on his right pectoral. Angry, dark brown and scarred, like his skin had actually been fired. 

Gnullgard. 

You’d never seen the crest in person. Only in news reports or spray painted in alleys.

Your grin dropped. Minho waited expectantly, well aware of what you caught sight of by now.

“It’s almost like you wanted to get caught,” you finished, your mind catching up to you. “You’re not just a rebel, you didn’t just desert the Federation. You defected… You want to be taken back to Daedalus, don’t you. When you said it’s going to get messy in Victory Meridian… it’s because you have something planned.”

Your hand was pulled away for Minho to sarcastically clap and throw his hands in the air. “Yes! You finally figured it out!”

“But why?” you asked, your hand limp in the cuff being jerked around.

“Do you know how hard it is to just go to Victory Meridian?!” Minho ranted. “And if you actually want to take care of something? Impossible. And even if you figure something out, it’s still hard as hell to do it alone! So I’ve been waiting for you all day, to see if you’d finally figure out that I have your goddamn ring so you’d come confront me and prove you’d make a decent wingman.”

Minho stared at you, with the gall to look frustrated with you.

You stared back. “Well clearly I failed! So what now, genius?”

The outlaw hardened his jaw. “Clearly, I can work with that. I meant what I said. You're a rookie and you have a lot to learn – and I can teach you.”

You closed your mouth, catching it still hanging open. Minho held your gaze while he manually overrode the cuffs. He turned and stooped down to grab the Clessorian ring from where it had skidded under the bed before he set it back in your hand. Finally, he snapped the cuffs back on his own wrists. 

Your eyes darted between the ring, the cuffs, and his hard glare. The ore shined like a marbled sky in the sparse light. “What’re you doing?”

Minho shrugged. “I never wanted to keep the ring. Like I said, I only wanted to see if you'd figure it out and come get it back. It didn't work out like I planned, but I still like what I saw.”

“I meant with the cuffs,” you clarified, still processing all this information. 

“Oh,” Minho realized. He kicked open the hatch and ducked down, sitting on the lip of it. “I’m heading back down to the brig. I at least want to make it to Phaborus. Can't risk the crew getting so fed up that they eject me instead.”

Minho laughed but it didn't quite seem like he was joking. You stooped down beside him, following him inside and down to your cabin. Your eyes met when you reached your hatch. 

“How about a deal,” Minho offered. “Where you stop, I’ll stop. If you get dumped at the Hatchery or Sentury or whatever, I’ll detour with you if you’ll come with me to Victory Meridian.”

You thought about this. “Only me?”

“Only you,” Minho nodded. “I can't risk recruiting the crew; I don't trust them.”

“And if I don’t?”

“What, like if you decide to be a good crewmate and sell me out? That’s allowed, too. You can just say no. You can just tell me goodnight, Minho and I’ll drop it.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your voices hushed in the more open service corridors. 

“I mean, I’ll stop trusting you, that’s all.”

Minho expectantly waited for an answer. You briefly thought it through. Whatever unfinished business Minho had in Victory Meridian sounded dangerous, maybe even deadly. The crew deserved to know what they were walking into, right? But, you gravely realized, if you lost Minho’s trust you'd lose all chances of being kept in the loop, and that’d be dangerous, too. It wasn't like he’d be so reckless so as to not make it back to Daedalus. That was for sure. You could say yes, knowing fully well you could bail on him later if it became too much. Or, like he said, you could simply tell him goodnight and leave it all alone.

[the-writing-mobster]

pst... i have an idea! we have seen how cruel sans can be as a yandere to frisk but HEAR ME OUT. what if FRISK is the one who is obsessed. imagine that red flags meme where frisk is perfect at first glance uuuuntil sans rejects them thinking theyre just gonna find someone better than him OH BOI... my sweet beloved potato that human is too determined... cmon evil frisk doesnt get nearly as much attention as she/they/him should. i stan evil frisk.

💖 Hey there dear heart! Thank you for the ask!

—

See, I understand what you're getting at and I could totally see a Yandere Frisk storyline, especially given how Frisk can be played in game (geno frisk). Listen I DID have an idea about Yandere Frisk that could totally work, but I didn't really want to tell that story because I wanted to write a story about the violence of objectification and misogyny and Sans just so happens to be my muse so he got stuck with the SK stamp. (But I'll tell you what, I liked the idea so much, I gave it to another secret character who may or may not look scarily similar to Frisk 😉)

Also, I'm going to be so so honest with you when I say that SK Sans isn't ACTUALLY a Yandere. I know I said "the Frans community is in a yandere phase right now and I plan to deliver" but I was being cheeky and simplistic. He does have "yandere" tendencies, but he doesn't actually love any of his targets. They're just play things to him!

BUT if you really want an SK Frisk, I'll point you in @cjhern1109's direction. They took inspiration from my SK Sans and made a serial killer Frisk.

All that being said though... I do stan a BITCHY Frisk. I loooove when Frisk is allowed to be kind of a cold, frigid bitch to the people who deserve it, even when her soul is good and kind. But yeah, Final Girl Frisk gets my love any and every day.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Many Roads Diverge in the Woods - Second Run - Part Seven

The Beginning | Previous

The results are in.

Your path has been altered. Strange how such a small choice can change so much. These choices were really close! I think there's probably only one vote of difference in here.

Warning for possibly gruesome descriptions! If that's not your thing, skip the fourth paragraph.

The poll at the bottom to decide what happens next is only open for one day, expiring on April 22nd at 12:00pm PST. Part Eight will be up the next day, April 23rd, at the same time.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Chase starts forward, intending to stop this, but Schneep reaches out and pulls him back. “What are you doing?!” he hisses. “Let me go! Marvin, put it down!”

“I-I don’t think you should get close to someone holding a blade!” Schneep stammers, pale.

“I’m not the one he’s threatening with it! None of us are!”

Marvin grins. And that grin doesn’t fade even as he digs the knife into his neck and pulls it to the side. His hand shakes. But the blade cuts easily as he pushes it further and further into his throat. Flesh tears. Blood pours from the wound. The sound of wet, labored breathing fills the room. The four others only stare at the gruesome sight; horror has frozen them all in place.

And then Marvin collapses and they all move at once.

Chase is the fastest, kneeling by Marvin’s side. “Marvin?! Marvin?!” He fell forward so Chase grabs him and turns him over to look at his face. He flinches upon seeing the wound.

JJ is next, then Jackie, then Schneep. One by one they also fall to the ground next to Marvin. “Schneep, you’re a doctor, do something!” Jackie shouts while JJ reaches forward and presses his hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the tide of blood.

“Th-there is nothing we can do for this!” Schneep stammers. “I cannot—not—Chase, I-I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have stopped you! Marvin! Marvin, I am sorry!” Tears fill his eyes.

“Fuck!” Jackie picks up one of Marvin’s hands. He yanks off the fingerless glove he’s wearing and presses his fingers to the bare skin of his wrist. The color drains from his face. “There’s... th-there’s no—”

JJ shakes his head, denying what Jackie’s trying to say. He presses harder against the wound. Blood covers his hands and stains the cuffs of his white shirt. But he doesn’t care.

Chase looks at Marvin’s face. He’s still grinning. It’s a strange grin. Like it’s not Marvin’s at all. And above that grin, his eyes are dull, seeing nothing. “Jays,” Chase whispers. “He’s—”

“No!”

Chase stops immediately, shocked that JJ actually shouted that. It was hoarse and strangled, but the word was unmistakable. Schneep and Jackie also stare at JJ, surprised. JJ doesn’t look at any of them. He keeps pressing on the wound, leaning forward, panicking and hoping—

“Jameson.” Schneep reaches over and gently puts his hand on JJ’s shoulder. “It’s too late.”

JJ looks at the other three, eyes darting between their faces and Marvin’s. Then he leans back. He stares down at Marvin’s body. He’s not dead, he signs, the movements slow.

“I’m... I-I’m afraid he is,” Schneep says. He wipes his eyes. “We... w-we have to... call for an... We have to call for paramedics. To...” He can’t finish what he’s saying. He takes a shaky breath, clearly trying to avoid crying.

“I don’t... understand...” Jackie whispers. “What... what just happened?”

Chase shakes his head slowly. He’s not sure himself. They came to this cabin to have fun. And somehow their friend is dead.

The dim lightbulb overhead flickers.

“Let’s... get out of here.” Jackie staggers to his feet. “We can take him upstairs. To... I don’t know.” He walks to the door, grabs the handle, and tries to turn it. Then he tries again. And again. And then he looks back at the others suddenly worried. “Uh... guys? I think the door’s stuck.”

Chase blinks. “Wait a second. Who closed the door? I thought I was the last in, and I know I left it open.”

The dim lightbulb flickers again.

“I closed it.”

Everyone jumps in unison. That wasn’t any of them. “Um... hello?” Schneep calls, looking around. The room is empty except for the four of them and... and Marvin.

A laugh slithers through the room. The lightbulb flickers again—and goes out.

Chase hears the sound of the door shaking in its frame. “We have to get out of here!” Jackie shouts.

“Break down the door!” Chase shouts.

“I don’t know if I can! Where are the keys?!”

“Marvin had them, remember?!” Schneep shouts.

“I-I don’t want to search his body!” Jackie protests.

“Well I don’t want to be stuck in here!” Schneep says.

“Guys, calm down!” Chase says. A primal fear pumps through his veins. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up. They have to get out of here fast!

[mrseeker]

looking for rp.

why hello!

as you may have figured by the title, I'm searching for RP partners now for a different kind of roleplay

– I am a Male; and I play as males 89% of the time only play females when I really want to.

– my age: 17

– looking for: short-term + long-term partner(s) age 16+ or any; Don't mind how much you write just don't write one thing every single time.

–frequency: I'm a Highschool student with an existing sleep schedule, so my response times may vary depending on my schedule or if I'm busy, but I'm usually more active in the nighttime.

– medium: Discord preferably, but Reddit DMs work, too.

– timezone: Pst

I've been roleplaying on all sorts of platforms for a very long time even lost count and consider myself to be a multi kinda writer. I love all types of roleplays and can't wait to rp with all of you reading this.

– please know! For Avatar I'm looking for someone to play a female na'vi, I will play my oc George flint he is a professor who is stuck inside a sleepwalkers body and was taken in a cell type of vehicle he thinks what humanity is doing is wrong, and wants to help the planet so you the female Na'vi I'll let you come up with your characters name comes to save him and takes him to the village treating his wounds asking him many questions. We can play multiple chars if you'd like^^.

The second is venture bros.

Looking for someone to play the Monarch or Dr venture I have an oc who is the brother of Dean and Hank venture, He seems to be less involved but now he's brought into the action. Now I have one thing for Dr venture and the Monarch Let's start with Dr. V. so if his two sons don't wanna follow in his footsteps to be a great scientist (Dermott is out of the question btw). So he checks up on his son Charlie Alan Venture his middle name was from Alan Turing the man who had cracked enigma himself, to see if he can teach him his ways and a few tricks to keep him from playing his video games all day.

The monarch Captures Charlie and they manage to bond playing games together causing mischievous trouble pranking people becoming great friends and charlie sees the monarch as a better father than his own biological father.

third is overwatch

looking for someone to play Tracer, Sombra, Mercy, Winston, widowmaker, Mei-ling will say the plot in dm. and many many more

[morriscns]

*   /        𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎   𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 !

        ›   ⸻        lemme   just   say   that   i   literally   have   zero   clue   how   to   write   a   proper   intro   post   and   usually   just   avoid   ‘em   altogether   ,   but   i   decided   to   actually   try   this   time   ,   so   here   we   go   !   i’m   𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒊   (   or   just   rai   for   short   )   ,   i’m   twenty   -   one   years   old   ,   and   currently   chillin’   over   in   the   pst   timezone   .   my   pronouns   are   she   /   they   ,   or   dumb   /   bitch   ,   but   i’ll   honestly   answer   to   anything   . i also adore angst and drama so if you do , too , then we're gonna get along great !

*   /        𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

( hero fiennes - tiffin , twenty , cisgender male , he / him ) is that rhodes " ro " morrison ? a sophomore originally from manhattan , new york , they decided to come to ogden college to study fine art . they're the proud elite on campus , but even they could get blamed for greer's disappearance .

*   /        𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 !

𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 : january 7th , 2002 𝗭𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗖 : capricorn sun , scorpio moon , scorpio rising 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦 : gregarious , vehement , and captivating 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗡𝗘𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦 : acerbic , choleric , and decadent 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗦 : can recreate any sculpture , drawing , or painting to near perfection , able to command a room without ever speaking a word , and is capable of running a six minute mile .

*   /        𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 !

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗥 : meet greer's younger brother; that's how rhodes was always introduced to new people, but truth be told, he never thought twice about it. to him, it wasn't a bad thing. he was, in fact, greer's younger brother, always would be, and he absolutely adored her. he looked up to greer in every aspect of life, and he often even mirrored her actions until they became second nature. in many ways, it was like they were the morrison twins, and if rhodes were being honest, he sometimes wished they were.

the two of them were often like two peas in a pod, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for one's interests to be the other's. they just fit. like two puzzle pieces, it wasn't uncommon to find one with the other, and rhodes would go to the ends of the earth for his beloved sister, always protecting her if someone or something got in her way. however, despite the fact that neither of them talked about it, rhodes always knew that they both felt the overwhelming pressure to be the perfect morrison kids. this was just another reason as to why rhodes always stuck by his older sister. she understood him like no one else, and he liked to think he understood her, too.

𝗦𝗞𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗡 𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 : despite any lingering pressure, rhodes is proud to be a morrison of his family's caliber. there are, of course, things he wishes could be different, but he doesn't know how to be anyone else but the rhodes conley morrison. it's basically a brand at this point, how caught up he is in being so proud of who he is. some would argue that he's arrogant in this aspect, and while they wouldn't exactly be wrong, rhodes likes to think that he's more confident in who he is than anything else. it's in his blood to be the best of the best, and he plans to live up to that no matter what.

elitism runs in his veins, and he isn't one to shy away from it. rhodes realizes all of the luxuries he's been granted in life, and he's proud to show them off, proud to walk around in designer clothing and drive the nicest cars. things might not always be pretty on the inside, but as long as he looks good on the outside, none of that matters. if anything, he's proud to have mastered the art of being proud.

𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗨𝗟𝗔𝗥𝗦 : football ( running - back ) , baseball ( pitcher ) , sophomore class board , and sigma alpha epsilon ( member ) .

*   /        𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

anything angsty / drama related

flings , one nights stands , etc ( he's bi so go wild )

besties , party buddies , anything in that realm

enemies , personality clashes , gimme that drama

teammates , frat bros , literally anything

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Jeremy Allen White

full name: Matty Foster

nickname(s) / goes by: Foster

pronouns & gender: he/him & cis man

sexuality: heterosexual

birth date: September 21, 1992

birth place: Merrock, ME

arrival to merrock: just returned after leaving town at age 18

housing: a one bedroom apartment in historical downtown

occupation: line cook

work place: taste

family: Father, Doug Foster (estranged, ailing); Mother, Eliza Foster (deceased, 1994); Older sister, Anna Foster (deceased at age 3, 1993)

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Foster's immediate vibes are 'misunderstood, sad soft boy,' and that's not entirely by accident. That's not to say it isn't often how he feels, but he is well aware of the way it can disarm people and work to his advantage. Due to his past, there’s something inherently wounded and vulnerable about him, but he also has some pretty serious trust and inferiority issues, which means he’s very seldom entirely honest. He’s good at reading people, and puts forward the image of what he thinks a person is looking for. He wants to be needed and loves to be loved, but he’s not someone who’s likely to put his heart on the line.

WRITTEN BY: Molly (she/her), pst.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: post-partum psychosis, infanticide, suicide, abuse.

Matthew Foster was the second-born child to the Chief of Police of Merrock, Maine and his homemaker wife. The couple had previously welcomed a daughter, Anna, into their lives 2 years earlier, and with the birth of their son, they felt as though their family was finally complete. It was a perfect picture that didn’t last long, however, as Mrs. Foster suffered from post-partum psychosis, and when Matty was only 8 months old, her paranoia culminated in her killing Anna and attempting to do the same to her son before the chief came home and was able to intervene. Mrs. Foster was committed and received psychological treatment, but despite all the help, the horror of what she had done was too much to overcome. 10 months later, she took her own life, leaving only Matty and his father behind.

The chief was not a particularly kind or doting man by any means, but considering it was Matty’s birth that ultimately unraveled his family, the man’s mood towards his son generally wavered between resentment and outright hostility. The only love and care the boy received was from the nanny his father hired, and once he was deemed self-sufficient at the age of 12, it was decided that expense was no longer worth the money.

As such, Foster spent most of his teenage years neglected and fending for himself. He acted out in all the typical teenage ways as a cry for help, which only provoked his father’s ire further and led to physical beatings as well. No one wanted to believe the worst of the town’s chief of police, so they wrote Foster off as a no-good rebellious teen.

Foster left town the day he turned 18, not even finishing high school. He headed west with no real plan for his life, other than getting the hell away from his father.

He thought about maybe joining a band, but he wasn’t particular good at music — instead he hitched a ride with some guys touring the country, and acted as their roadie.

He followed the band all the way to California before deciding to try his hand at standing still. He got a job working the graveyard shift at a shitty 24-hour diner, and it was there that he discovered his true love for food and cooking.

He stuck around for a couple years before deciding to travel the world, working in various kitchens and learning everything he could along the way.

He was just called back to Merrock with the news his father had suffered from a series of strokes. Despite the hell the man had put him through, Foster didn’t feel like he could live with himself if he didn’t come back to make sure the man was taken care of. Plus, he was starting to feel like it was time to settle down for good.

[dear---moon]

Sitting in the kitchen of our small cute cottage, listening to the sound of a very heavy rain outside while Take Me To Church plays in the radio.

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"a little bet"

summary:

— Camilo finds himself drawn to your impassive personality. He plans to propose a bet in hopes it will get you to notice him, luckily, you do. You two grow closer all because of a little bet

genre:

— fluff & modern au

notes:

— gender-neutral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— none

a/n:

— a cute request from anon, kinda late but hope you guys enjoy <3

A pair of hazel eyes glimmering and solely focused on one subject in a form of a human. A sigh was emitted into the air, mixing with all the other ambiance in the surroundings. The atmosphere present at the library was filled with busy sounds and hushed noises, merely relaxing.

"Pst, primo, are you even reading at all?"

A girl with rounded green glasses rolled her eyes at the curly-haired boy sitting beside her. She puts down her book to exhale and notices his fixated gaze on a certain somebody.

"Really, Camilo?"

She gave him an unamused look. The boy beside him, who happens to be her cousin named Camilo, snaps out of the trance and furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Do you mind? I'm busy here, Mirabel"

"Oh wow, and what exactly are you busy with, primo?"

"Art homework, I'm supposed to look for a beauty that catches the eye"

Camilo explains, seemingly trying to make an excuse for his staring. Mirbel was not buying it so she punches his shoulder.

"Tonto, staring at them doesn't count as art homework!"

"¿Por que? Our teacher said to look for a beauty that catches the eye and make a sketch!"

"You barely even started! You're just making an excuse to stare at [Name] again!"

"Mind your own business, Mirabel!"

"SHHHH!"

The two stopped bickering at the sound of the librarian shushing them for their loud voices, they muttered an apology and proceeded to go about what they were currently doing. Mirabel sighs and gets on with her review while Camilo continues to stare into the distance, eyes purely stuck on a singular person sitting alone at one of the desks in the library. Your hair was neat, your clothes were tidy, and the impassive expression on your face made Camilo's heart skip beats. He observes your [Eye Color] eyes scanning the book in hand, laser-focused on the contents within, he watches you flip a page and continue reading.

Every now and then you'll tuck a hair behind your ear or put down your book for a second to stretch, Camilo's breath would hitch in his throat because every minor movement of yours made him so besotted by you. He knows you've been always collected, calm, and chill. He knows you never look for conflict for the thrill, that's why he's so drawn to you. Camilo was attracted to you because you were the exact opposite of him.

Everyone knows in school how much of a ball full of energy he was, he was often seen bouncing through the hallways and talking to a lot of people. Always socializing and never late when it comes to fun. Camilo was the beloved social butterfly while you were the beautiful wallflower.

Unbeknownst to him, you quickly noticed his stares. He visibly freezes in his seat when you looked at him. Your face was void of emotion, he grows tense. Ultimately, you shrugged and picked up your book as you resumed reading. Camilo wipes the sweat off his forehead. Jeez, he barely hasn't studied or started any of his homework. He blows a raspberry and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

For a long time, Camilo wanted to make a move. He wanted to impress you or do anything that will get your attention so you can finally talk to him. For an extrovert, he feels incredibly shy when you're near. Camilo needed an idea, a perfect plan. It seemed like the heavens heard his prayer because an idea pops inside his mind.

Mirabel furrowed her eyebrows as she watches her cousin rise from his seat, collect his things, and walk over to where you were at. She watches Camilo approach you.

"Hey, [Name], right?"

You hear someone say, you lower your book and realized it was Camilo Madrigal who has called you.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"We share the same classes, right? I was wondering if you could help me with something"

"Hm, sorry, I can't. I'm very busy, right now"

Camilo was momentarily baffled when his plan doesn't work, but he doesn't dare back down. So, he goes to the vacant seat beside you and happily sits down. You tilt your head at him.

"That's cool, I'm just gonna sit here and study"

He says but you don't utter a word. You simply shut your book and tucked it inside your bag before pulling out your notes and examining them. Camilo was shamelessly staring at you to the point that it distracts you.

"Excuse me, but is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, no. Nothing at all, you just look pretty"

"You're Camilo, right?"

"Yep, the one and only"

"Can you kindly go study somewhere else, Camilo?"

He pouts though he doesn't back down. You realize that he wasn't leaving his spot, you let out a sigh and decided to put away your things into your bag. You don't understand why Camilo was suddenly flirting with you but you have priorities. But as you were about to rise from your seat, Camilo stops you by grabbing your arm.

"How about a little bet, [Name]?"

He asks. You give him a puzzled look, and you think about his proposal. Normally, you weren't the type to make or take bets but in Camilo's case, you're intrigued. He lets go of your arm, you glance at him up and down.

"And what bet do you have in mind?"

"I bet you to go out to an amusement park with me"

Camilo says. Your eyes were unblinking, evidently surprised by what he said. An amusement park, huh? You raised a brow at him.

"Like on a date?"

"Sure, why not?"

He gives you a smirk, something about it made you emit a light chuckle. Camilo tried his best to hide his nervousness with a confident stance.

"Fine, I'll go with you. And if I don't enjoy it, you'll stop bothering me"

"Deal, here's my number"

Camilo holds out his phone for you as you swiftly typed and saved his number in your contacts. He sends you a wink before he turns his heel to leave. You hummed, that was interesting.

"Oh my god, they said yes!"

Camilo squealed as he sprinted all over his room like an energizer bunny on crack. He couldn't believe that it was finally happening, he was finally going on a date with you! Immediately, he goes to prepare the perfect outfit. His entire family all shook their head in amusement when he busied himself getting ready for tomorrow.

When tomorrow arrived, Camilo jolts out of bed, full of energy despite barely getting any sleep due to his excitement. He takes a quick shower, taking his sweet time to make sure he smells fresh. He puts on his yellow sweatshirt and black jeans, he finished the outfit with a pair of checkered Vans. Camilo practically drowns himself in his best perfume before fixing his hair.

You felt your phone vibrate just in time after you finished dressing up. Camilo texted and told you that he was already in front of your house. It gave you a quick surprise as you head towards the door and saw him holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Hi, for you, [Name]"

Camilo gives you the flowers, you blink at him and at the bouquet before slowly taking it. The sunflowers smelled and looked great, you decided to place them away in the house.

"Thanks"

"Shall we go?"

"Okay"

You say, calmly following him out the door. It didn't take long for you two to get to the nearest amusement park, Camilo was bursting with energy when he grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd. He insisted on riding the rollercoaster first out of all things, you shook your head.

"Come on! I bet you can't ride the rollercoaster with me"

"Fine..."

Both of you got into the ride. The moment the rollercoaster began moving towards the big drop, you looked at Camilo who had the brightest smile on his face. You were distracted by it for a while until the rollercoaster dropped with enormous speed, merely sending your heart flying out of your chest. Eventually, the ride ended with Camilo cheering and saying you two should ride again. You hide a shiver with a deadpan face.

"...No thanks. Let's go find a different ride"

Camilo shrugs and takes you to the bumping cars. Of course, he'd take you to the most exhilarating rides first. You got into one of the cars and immediately Camilo bumps against you, it doesn't bother you until he does it several times. You groaned and decided to bump against him, nearly sending him toppling off. Needless to say, you had a little bit of fun after that.

The two of you stopped to get snacks, midway eating your cotton candy, you notice the tall drop tower in the distance. You grin to yourself before looking at Camilo, expressionless.

"I bet you to go try the drop tower"

"Only if you ride it with me"

"Okay, fine"

You blankly said as he leads you towards the drop tower. You were quite nervous after being strapped unto one of the seats. As you glance at Camilo, the nervousness leaves your body when his face goes pale.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Camilo?"

"Ye-yeah!"

He gulped when the platform began rising, it rose high enough that you can see the view of the entire amusement park. To you, it was a beautiful view but to Camilo, it nearly gives him a heart attack. So, imagine his horror when the platform began to drop all the way to the floor before rising and falling a few times. You let out a tiny laugh and smile, you check on Camilo and the poor guy literally fainted in his seat. After the ride was over he gained consciousness, you softly grabbed his arm.

"Camilo? Are you doing okay?"

"Sí, estoy bien"

He replied and gave you a smile, but his face told you a different story. For Camilo's sake, you chose to bring him to one of the booths that offered games with prizes. Quickly, his cheery mood returns when he spots the games.

"Tell me what you want, I'll win it"

"I bet you can't even win, Camilo"

"See that cat plushie? I'm gonna win it, just watch"

You rolled your eyes and watched him walk towards the booth, if he throws a dart at the center, he wins. You crossed your arms as he goes to play, he misses four times until the last dart magically lands in the center. You watched with bewilderment as he does bring you the cat plushie, winning the bet with flying colors.

"See, told you I can win"

"That was sheer luck, Camilo"

You told him, and he laughs it off. Both of you go on a walk, talking and getting to know each other. The entire time you were mindlessly clutching the cat plushie close to you. It was getting dark when Camilo spotted the colorful Ferris wheel, he tugs on your hand and pointed at it.

"I bet you to go ride the Ferris wheel with me, [Name]"

"No"

"Pretty pleaseeee?"

He gives you a pair of puppy dog eyes as you finally give in. You both get on the ride, he takes the seat next to yours. A childish chime played as the Ferris wheel started moving, you steal a look at Camilo only to find him already staring at you. With a small blush on your cheeks, you steer your eyes away, quietly waiting for the ride to be over.

"Sooooo, did you enjoy today, [Name]?"

"It was okay"

You said with a deadpan expression. Camilo wasn't buying it after what he has witnessed the entire day, unbeknownst to you, he noticed all the tiny smiles that appeared on your face during the day. The sight really made him fall harder for you.

"I saw you smiling every once in a while, I know it wasn't just okay"

"Admittedly, it was fun at some parts"

You confess. The entire day observing Camilo, you find yourself interested in him. Something about his welcoming and warm aura pulled you towards him. Throughout the day, he always made sure you were having fun and it tugged on your heartstrings. Camilo chuckles.

"So, I win the bet"

"No you don't, I only said it was fun at some parts"

"But still! You enjoyed it!"

Camilo pointed out. You sighed, you began giving him excuses why he didn't win the bet and he'd disagree. Both of you bickered for a while until you decided to stop him.

"You know, you could've bet me to kiss you"

You watch him freeze, suddenly, you regretted saying that to him. Camilo's heart banged against his ribcage, and the thought of kissing you plagued his mind.

"Really? Can I change my bet?"

"No"

He pouts at your answer. You find the defeated expression on his face adorable, so you decided to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. Camilo goes rigid, he stares at you owlishly with glimmering eyes. There was a soft look on your face.

"Thanks...for today, I really enjoyed it, Camilo"

"...You're welcome"

Finally, a smile rises on your impassive face and it sends Camilo clutching his heart, silently thanking the gods above. You watch a devilish expression spawn on his face.

"How about another bet, [Name]?"

You scoffed, it was unbelievable that he decided to propose another bet. A small smirk makes its way to your lips.

"Let's see what you got"

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty , @nort0616 , @megs2world ...join here

masterlist

[cursedsunoo]

hello! can i request something with best friend jay but they act like lovers (no feelings tho, they started to do it ironically cos theyre the parents of the group but it kinda just stuck and now they call e/o yeobo unironically) reader gets a panic attack (triggers are signs of aggression, shouting throwing things etc) in the middle of class or something and jay helps her through it. (sorry if this was long, i just had a panic attack and this might comfort me)

🌐 ALWAYS BY YOUR SIDE

♡ pairing — jay x reader

♡ wordcount — 0.8k

♡ warnings — panic attacks, yelling

♡ pronouns — they/them (no pronouns used)

♡ a/n — ah i hope you’re feeling better anon! make sure you take a rest, get some food or water in your system, and just relax for a bit. sending my love <3

it was an unspoken rule between the two of you that you’d always look out for the other — letting each other use your notes, offering a shoulder to cry on, and taking care of each other’s health 24/7.

jay and you had always been this way — fussing over the other and your friends as if you were parents. then again with the group you were in, someone had to step up and take on the parental role since the group would’ve gotten into far more trouble had there not been someone taking on the role.

maybe that’s how jay had noticed so quickly that you were spiraling into a panic.

a boy, known for being a loudmouth, happened to be louder than usual — the argument between him and the fuming teacher stood at the head of the class only growing in volume and aggression as the seconds went by. even his movements could be heard — harsh, quick, and loud.

jay tried to get your attention from his space, a seat back and diagonal from you, stretching to the best of his ability to poke your shoulder with his pencil.

however, you hadn’t felt a thing — your eyes were blinking rapidly and fast, almost as fast as your heart was beating. your surroundings muddled together and the noise became increasingly louder as if someone had cranked the speakers in a car.

“y/n,” jay whispered, desperate to help out his friend without gaining the angry teacher's attention. “pst, y/n!”

his attempts were fruitless and only added to your panic — his noises added to the noise and only caused the room to feel incredibly stuffy.

jay thought iver his options — he could try and let you ride out your panic attack, yet if he did that, who knows how long it would take, and who knows how hard it would hit you during and after the fact. or, jay could say screw it and help you no matter the cost.

he had quickly gone with the ladder.

the screech of his chair had interrupted the argument going on only a few feet from him, the teacher turning his angry gaze into jay in a second who now stood at your side.

“jay, return to your seat now-“

“hey yeobo, can you hear me?” jay put a single finger up to his lips as he glanced at the teacher, silencing the man and the rest of the students in a second. “i need you to help me out with something right now.”

you tried to focus on his voice, offering a small, shaky nod.

“okay that’s good, i need you to breathe with me — can i touch you?” jay hovered his hand over your own that was stationed tightly over your ear. he waited for a nod before continuing, grasping your hand in his and bringing it to settle on his chest, pressing it tightly against the fabric of his uniform so you could feel the way his chest rose and fell. “when i breathe in, i need you to take a deep breath as well — and when i breathe out, breathe everything out,” he spoke softly and slowly so you understood what he was saying.

jay proceeded to take slow and deep breaths, exaggerating his breathing movements to show you better.

he didn’t worry about the whispers around the two of you, nor the way the teacher hovered over the two of you in case he was needed — all he paid mind to was the way your breathing calmed, hands stopped shaking, and body relaxed.

“you okay, yeobo?” jay lowered his head so he could connect eyes with you.

coming off from a panic attack was never fun — you felt drained and still shaky at parts, and it didn’t go away for a while, so maybe that’s why you had shaken your head lightly at jay.

“no?” jay looked to the teacher for permission, and once granted it he gathered your stuff, placed it in your bag, and wrapped both his own and your bag around his shoulders, offering a kind hand to you as an invitation with him. “let’s go home for the day, what do you say to that?”

it didn’t matter if he had to skip class, run to your house at two o’clock in the morning, or if he had to risk getting yelled at by teachers — jay would be at your side.

TAGLIST — open

@fiantomartell l // @atinyyylove // @who-is-kyuzu // @wonderwrench // @ddeonubaby // @minspalette // @bluesoobinnie // @msxflower // @gimmethatcoffee // @strqyverse // @hoonbrry // @squiishymeow // @bubblejunnies // @jakehugger // @sullysunshines // @blaqpinksthetic // @pirateswithfairytales // @minhyukmyluv // @enhacolor

© cursedsunoo — all rights reserved.

do not copy, translate, or repost my work without my explicit permission

[pippytmi]

Wildmoore Week Day 7: Future/Head canons (aka Baby/Pregnancy Fic)

“Ryan. Pst, Ryan, wake up.”

“In a second, babe,” Ryan mumbles in response, blindly reaching with one arm to tug her wife closer—except her hand hits an empty space, and then the insistent whispering above her turns into poking, and there’s really only one person with no boundaries who would do that. “Alice,” she snaps, swatting away the hand prodding her forehead. “What the hell? Where’s Sophie?”

When she opens her eyes, she notes it’s still dark outside; the barest hint of sun has yet to filter through the blinds, and yet Sophie is gone. Instead there’s a blond psychopath at her bedside, and Alice does not seem particularly apologetic about the fact.

“Don’t worry, Luke and Kate have promised to bring her back in one piece. Something about nesting, or pillows.” Alice shrugs. “I wasn’t listening. Now get up, will you? Mary’s waiting.”

“For what?” Ryan blearily squints at her phone, which flashes 5:37 A.M. “Why the fuck are you in our house?”

“Well, because I lost the coin toss,” Alice sighs. “I was hoping to be on Sophie’s side of the festivities, so I’m stuck.”

“Side of—?”

The room is illuminated in light all at once, and an all-too-chipper Mary Hamilton comes sashaying in. “Happy pre-baby-party!” she says, holding up two Starbucks cups. “Like a baby shower, only for the parents. There’s no catchy name to call it, so we’re stuck with pre-baby party until someone thinks of something better.”

“You forget that my suggestion of ‘Eve of the apocalypse’ was vetoed,” Alice reminds her, and Mary gives her a pointed stare, which makes Alice sigh again, only huffier.

“Okay, ignoring the part where this is not a thing,” Ryan says, accepting a coffee cup when it’s pressed in her hand, “why is it happening at five in the morning?”

“Sophie mentioned she hasn’t been sleeping well, so Luke suggested their group could go for an early morning drive to the mountains,” Mary explains. “You know, since she misses the hike up there, they wanted to watch the sunset.”

“She’s never asked me to take her,” Ryan says, concerned. “We should go too. Let me just—”

“Oh no no no,” Alice says. “We’re not joining the lame party. Mary promised me mimosas without a judge-y pregnant lady staring at me.”

“I never called her that,” Mary is quick to correct. “And also, I never mentioned mimosas?”

“They were implied.”

Ryan takes a sip of her coffee and doesn’t attempt to mask her confusion. “Okay, when was this planned? I don’t remember anyone discussing this, ever. Or asking if I also wanted to leave the house at five in the morning. Have I mentioned that yet, Mary? Do I need to say it again?”

“Maybe we got a little too excited,” Mary admits, and she smiles apologetically, while Alice shakes her head beside her. “But we’re just so happy for you guys! My best friends,” she’s about two seconds from tears now as she drops everything to yank Ryan into a hug, “having a baby any day now!”

It’s way too early for this, but Ryan allows it—if only because Mary has supplied her with at least two extra shots of espresso in her drink. She can even forgive Alice fake-retching above their heads, if she closes her eyes and blissfully imagines Alice being hit by a passing train; Ryan’s been actively trying to be the bigger person (because Sophie asked her to).

And then a thought occurs. “So am I not allowed to go back to sleep?” Ryan wonders aloud, and Mary’s sheepish ensuing laughter is her disappointing reply.

Ryan supposes it could be worse than this. After her coffee is drained they watch the sunset themselves, only on the back porch that Ryan painstakingly painted the week earlier to match Sophie’s “vision.” The yard, too, has been decorated and re-decorated a million ways per Sophie’s request. Truth be told, Ryan doesn’t even care that Sophie changes her mind every other week. She’d do just about anything to make her wife happy.

Which is why this sunset thing is weighing heavily on her mind. Why hasn’t Sophie said anything? How has Ryan not even noticed? She always assumed having a baby together would’ve brought them closer, but what if they’re drifting apart? What if—

“You know, your liquor cabinet is Scotch-taped shut,” Alice’s voice breaks through Ryan’s thoughts annoyingly quickly. “I had to fight to get some vodka. Is Sophie holding your drinking hostage?”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “No, she’s…baby-proofing,” she says. “She’s done it so well I can’t operate the damn toaster anymore.”

“Uh, does she think the baby’s going to climb on the walls?” Mary asks. “That seems a little obsessive.” 

“Once a Crow, always a Crow,” Alice says without an ounce of sympathy. In fact, she seems rather gleeful about Ryan’s predicament, and takes a swig of vodka straight from the bottle. “You know she loves you when she gives you a baseball bat to sleep with.”

“Okay shut up, Alice, because if you bring up sleeping with my wife again—”

“Platonic sleeping,” Alice assures a now horrified-looking Mary. “When we were roomies, sometimes I would sneak into her room just to keep Sophie alert. She likes to be spooned, for the record.”

“Wait, hold on,” Mary says. “Should Sophie still be baby-proofing this late? She’s eight months pregnant.”

“You try saying no to her,” Ryan says. “Don’t worry, she makes me do most of it. Yesterday she insisted I de-stock the higher shelves of the pantry just in case anything might fall.”

“On a ladder, I presume,” Alice chimes in, and Ryan grits her teeth.

“Alice I swear to God—”

Mary coughs conspicuously into her hand. “Well, the house looks great,” she says, brightly changing the subject. “And to think, you guys thought it used to be haunted.”

“Sophie thought it was haunted,” Ryan corrects, but she smiles at the memory all the same, feels her body warm from head to toe as the first sun rays glint off the early morning dew on the lawn. This is the life she never imagined she’d have; a house in the suburbs, a yard with a baby playset just waiting for an occupant, the family surrounding her. (Even if it has to involve Alice, sometimes). “She made me sleep on the couch when I told her the ghosts were just our welcoming party.”

“Aw,” Mary says dreamily. “So domestic even when you fight.”

Beside her, Alice gives a long-suffering groan. “This is boring,” she says. “Why are we the boring party? Mary, come on. Mimosas. We’re supposed to be having a wild, drunk party before Ryan is stuck home for the next eighteen years.”

“That wording feels a little dramatic, but she does have a point,” Mary says. “How do you feel about mimosas?”

“I don’t exactly have the ingredients on me,” Ryan admits, thinking of the empty fridge she’d promised Sophie she would stock this afternoon. “I mean…I have that.” She points at the vodka still clutched in Alice’s hand, and Alice gives her an unimpressed glare.

“You’re the worst bartender in existence, Wilder.”

“Well I’m not exactly a bartender anymore,” Ryan defends herself, but it’s a moot point; they have screwdrivers instead of mimosas anyway, and it gets them tipsy enough all the same.

“So now we need to find some fun, no-responsibilities-involved activities to do,” Mary says. “I guess around your house…” This she says while swaying, looking greener than she should, and Ryan lowers her glass before she can follow suit. 

“No way, we need to go somewhere,” Alice says. “Like a strip club! I can drive.” Of course she’s saying all of this while laying down on the floor, so, she also does not inspire much confidence.

“Actually,” and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but Ryan has a genius idea. “I do have a fun activity we can do until Sophie comes home.”

.

.

.

“I hate Luke so much for picking heads. If I had gotten heads, I could be sipping an actual mimosa in the countryside. Pregnant women can have champagne, right? That doesn’t count as alcohol. I bet Sophie is enjoying a mimosa right now.”

“Can you shut up about your mimosas? You’re in my way,” Mary says, elbowing Alice until she shifts, and then resumes taping up the doorway. “Okay, where’s the tarp? Alice. You need to lay a tarp on the sinks in case anything drips.”

“Oh, that,” Alice says. “You know, I would get it, but I just…don’t want to.”

“Alice!”

“I will get the tarps,” Ryan chimes in. “Alice, new assignment, you can make yourself useful and go entertain the ghosts while we paint the bathroom.”

“Fine, but do you have a Ouija board? It won’t be any fun otherwise.”

Before Ryan can even turn away so as to not dignify that with a response, she hears an all-too-familiar: “I’m sorry, what is going on here?”

“Paint fumes are not good for a baby!” Mary shouts, and starts shoving Ryan smack between her shoulder blades in an effort to get her moving. “Quick, stop Sophie from coming inside.”

“What? Mary, we haven’t even opened the paint yet.” But Ryan still moves, if only to intercept her heavily-pregnant wife at the door. “Heeey, babe. How was your…pre-baby party?” 

“My what?” Sophie allows Ryan to lead her towards the couch, but she still cranes her neck looking back in confusion. “Ryan, I like our guest bathroom. It still works. If you let Alice in there—”

“Don’t worry about Alice, we have her contained.” Ryan gently hugs her wife from behind, and can’t resist placing a kiss on the back of her neck; her skin is cold from the mountain air and there’s even the lingering scent of pine sticking to her clothes. “Where are Luke and Kate?”

“There was a Batwing emergency, they had to drop me off,” Sophie explains, and she allows Ryan to fuss over her a second more before she stresses, “I’m fine, I don’t need to sit. I was sitting for a long car ride, I’m just going to stretch.”

“Okay, but let me take care of breakfast. I know our little bloodsucker takes up too much energy this early in the morning.”

“Don’t call our child that.” But even as Sophie arches a warning eyebrow, her voice is unmistakably fond; Ryan crouches and whispers a quiet apology to her belly, and Sophie is smiling when Ryan rises again. “You three have been busy, huh? I see wine glasses.”

“It was a moment of weakness, and Alice is entirely to blame.” Ryan cracks open their fridge and winces at its meager contents. “Maybe I’ll go pick up breakfast.”

“It’s fine, we’ll ask Luke to bring back donuts when he takes care of whoever is terrorizing the bank this early,” Sophie says, and when Ryan uneasily starts to clear the wine glasses on the counter, gestures her to leave them be. “Just come here and hold me, I missed you.”

“Oh you did?” Ryan feigns confusion. “Is that why you allowed Alice in our house at five in the morning? Because anyone who loves me wouldn’t put me through that cruel and unusual punishment.” But she lets herself be looped in by her T-shirt collar, her hands naturally gravitating to rest on Sophie’s hips.

“I did tell them to let you sleep in,” Sophie points out. “I knew you wouldn’t be up for a drive.”

Ryan’s burgeoning smile abruptly fades. “I could have, if you told me,” she says. “I would have taken you up by your hiking trail every day. I didn’t even know you missed it.”

Sophie sighs. “I know. It just seemed silly. Like, a silly thing to miss,” she says. “I talked to my doctor about it and he said hiking was okay, but with the drive…it didn’t seem worth it.”

“Hey. Anything for you is worth it,” Ryan promises. “No matter how small, or how big.”

“Even if I were to drag you out of bed before dawn?”

“Um, yeah! I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re about to have a baby. They are generally very bad about letting their parents sleep,” Ryan says, and her joke is worth it even when Sophie pinches her arm, because Sophie is smiling and Ryan will never, ever get tired of that smile. Even when slightly tipsier than she’d care to admit (and definitely sleep-deprived), Ryan would forsake anything just to be able to see Sophie Moore happy.

“God that’s true, isn’t it?” Sophie bemoans. “At this rate I won’t be able to go hiking for at least another year.”

“Everything I’ve read says more about six months,” Ryan offers, and Sophie gives her the patented glare™️ which usually translates to don’t be a smartass, Ryan. “Wow, tough crowd.”

“I changed my mind, I want to sit,” Sophie says, abruptly letting go of Ryan and wincing. “Oh, ow. Even our son is ready to disagree with you.”

“You say that every time he happens to kick you when we’re talking,” Ryan counters, but she hurriedly takes Sophie’s hand and ensuing iron-clad grip without complaint. “Do you need water? A pillow?”

“No, I just.” Sophie inhales deeply. “I just need a minute.”

“Right.” Ryan soothingly places one hand on her back, the other on her stomach. “Hey, little guy. Be careful with your mommy, okay? We're very excited to meet you, but not yet. We were promised at least another three weeks.”

Sophie smiles when Ryan looks at her, but it's a sad smile, just verging on the edge of worry. “You know, everything I've read points to one,” she says, and Ryan's eyes widen.

“But we haven't finished repainting the guest bathroom yet. Maybe I should go supervise Mary before she tries to let Alice help.”

“That can wait,” Sophie says, stroking her fingertips against the inside of Ryan's wrist, and Ryan stays put. “Ryan, do you ever feel…I don't know, afraid? Sometimes I think I'm not ready. Every time I feel him moving I'm so in love, but it's going to be so different when he's here.”

And Ryan smiles, memorizes the way Sophie worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the way her brown eyes gaze so fretfully. “You know something that I used to hate about you?”

“…what?”

“Something that used to drive me crazy about you,” Ryan reiterates, “is that you're so damn good at everything, Sophie. Seriously, it's like you don't even try.” She takes both of Sophie’s hands in hers now, reassuringly, and goes on: “You’re going to be an amazing mother. And it's not even because you're good at everything—it's because even though you are, you still worry about whether or not you're going to be good enough.”

“Did you seriously try to cheer me up by insulting me?” Sophie narrows her eyes, and Ryan blinks, mouth opening but no words forming, until Sophie slowly begins to smile. “You're cute when you think you're in trouble.”

“Wow, so you were just going to mess with me like that? Right in front of the baby?” Ryan places her hands on both sides of Sophie's stomach. “Baby boy, I'm so sorry you had to hear that.” A kick against her fingers makes her gasp. “Shit, Soph, he agrees with me! Oh fuck, not shit. I mean not fuck—”

Sophie halts her with a gentle touch to her chin. “Maybe stop while you're ahead,” she suggests, and when she leans in for a kiss, Ryan is more than happy to oblige. “Thank you. In your way, you know, you actually said everything right.”

“In my way? Now this kind of feels insulting,” Ryan says. “You're setting a bad example for our kid.”

“Will it be better if I mention that I love you?”

“That could be a start,” Ryan agrees, and she's the one who kisses Sophie next, sweet and slow and entirely unhurried. “So…I have something to ask you, but first I want you to remember when Alice threw your bachelorette party.”

Sophie visibly restrains a full-body shudder. “Okay, you need to stop doing that every time you’re about to make me mad,” she says. “One of these days it won't work.”

“But it makes you so receptive to anything,” Ryan says, and Sophie is undeniably fond when she rolls her eyes this time.

“What do you need to ask me?”

“Can you  promise that next time you want to go see a sunrise, we can go together? Even if it's until after the little guy is born,” Ryan says. “I’d love for us to make that our thing. I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s silly.”

“You don't need to preface that with the bachelorette fiasco,” Sophie says softly. “I'd love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that can be our first family outing,” Ryan swears, and Sophie rests her head against her shoulder, and they stay in their little bubble for a total of ten blissful seconds. 

“Hold on. What were you and Mary doing in the bathroom when I got here?”

“Oh, we were repainting the bathroom with that new color you mentioned,” Ryan says. “The seafoam blue, the one you kept as a bookmark? I bought the paint yesterday, but with a set of extra hands I wanted to get started today.”

Sophie’s eyes widen; she turns to face Ryan all at once with a rather surprising sense of urgency. “Really? The way I told you I wanted it done last week?”

“Yeah, we wanted to surprise you.” Ryan rubs comforting circles into Sophie’s thigh as a silent apology. “I should go, come to think of it. Mary is probably already painting without me.”

Sophie bites her lip. “God, I love you,” she says, and her voice is notably hesitant. “How much would you hate me if I told you that color is actually really ugly when I think about it?”

Ryan shakes her head, but she knows she’s smiling even before it happens. “I'll tell Mary to stop production.” As if on cue, the sound of an electric drill begins to buzz, and Ryan immediately rockets to her feet. “What the—Alice!”

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 5 ✨🚀

[6.3k words, 20 min. read - Jisung x Fem. Reader - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - NSFW/Smut - Semi-Public Sex, Developing FWB, Forming Alliances, Learning Motives, Touring the Ship (Again), Solving Mysteries, Cybernetically Enhanced Anatomy, Scifi Smoking, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

You wanted answers. Less than a day on board and you were already being messed with like this? Tension weighed on your chest. Minho was far too obvious of a suspect. He was immediately out. But Chan.

Chan!

Chan wanted to know if there was a warrant or bounty out for you before he even learned your name.

That dick.

It easily could’ve been him…

If Jisung weren’t so damn suspicious. The pilot had been on you from the moment you got on board, and suddenly he just decided to sneak your bag into your cabin for you?

That was too obvious, but in a wholly different way. Jisung had to be dealt with.

At this moment you noticed your hand was balled up, and you had to wind yourself back down for a second. You had to think this through. Jisung was the pilot. Those positions weren’t casual in crews like Chan’s, they were coveted. You couldn’t just accuse Jisung out in the open or make a big deal out of it. This would have to be carried out on the down low… at least a little. But how?

A soft knock at your door got your attention before Changbin poked his head in, taking a second before actually looking at you like he was worried he caught you getting dressed or something. 

“Hey,” he casually greeted. You stifled down a giggle at his disembodied head floating in your door. “Felix cooked up some supper. You should come grab some.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded in confirmation, still barely containing your giggle. “Dress code?”

“I’ll be real with you,” Changbin finally chuckled himself, “the guys might be wearing more clothes than usual with you here. It usually looks like a locker room here half the time. Just be comfortable.”  

You grinned and nodded in understanding. “Cool. I’ll be up in a minute.”

The contents of your bag were still spread on your bed and you made yourself do a quick inventory. You’d been taking this bag to the gym, so it contained basic toiletries, along with the wimpiest pair of shower shoes known to man, but you’d also managed to throw some extra clothes and personal items in here before heading out on the run. The ship felt warmer now that you were at speed, and it was nearing the night cycle, so it only made sense to change into something fit to settle down in. Your shirt swapped out for a tank top under your cozy hoodie, and you substituted your leggings for a soft pair of shorts. Thankfully, you did find one pair of sneakers hidden under your gym clothes, so you weren’t stuck with the boots or the shower shoes. The magnets in these soles also left a lot to be desired, but it was far better than nothing.

You weren’t the only who’d changed, you realized when you came out to the large booth in the corner of the galley. Almost everyone looked far more relaxed despite the chaos. It was already a madhouse out here, with the crew all openly squabbling over and picking at the spread Felix had prepared as they assembled. Changbin was batting Jisung away from his plate before Seungmin came in from upstairs, setting a chart he was working on in between the two. Jeongin came in behind him, tossing his book down on the table but also clearly on a call with someone, judging by the way he was seemingly talking to himself until you spied his earpiece. 

“Yeah,” Jeongin babbled while he attempted to swat Seungmin away from a roll he had his eye on, “I think I’ll actually be able to pick some up since we’ll be going out that way and – dude!”

“Try focusing,” Seungmin chided him, satisfied with his prize.

Hyunjin casually waltzed in, his already cozy ensemble from earlier traded out for a simple t-shirt and shorts under a robe. The tablet tucked under his arm led your eyes down to notice something curious, though.

Hyunjin also only had one leg. However, unlike Chan’s, Hyunjin didn’t have the Synth Skin liner, instead opting to keep the soft glow of the electronics inside of the semi-opaque casing unfettered. Then you caught the sweet smell of the smoke wafting from the charger clip perched on his lip.

You never really understood the appeal of these. The whole apparatus was pretty simple. A cartridge held multiple disposable clips, and you could slip them off and click them on for a decent smoke. You’d dabbled in it when you were younger but the habit was simply too costly for your liking.

Chan entered from the kitchen with his own assembled plate and easily plucked the clip from Hyunjin’s mouth. “Quit fucking smoking on my ship,” the captain pestered, taking his own puff before tossing the clip into the bin recessed into the galley wall, one surprisingly swift move. Hyunjin was unfazed, but graciously accepted when Jisung surreptitiously passed him a spare from his own pocket when Chan wasn’t looking.

The pilot took notice of you now, and it was at this second that you realized you were just lingering. 

“Nova,” he brightly called you over, “you better come get some before it all gets inhaled.”

“I appreciate it,” you gratefully accepted. “I’m starving, actually.”

It was true. The day had been so long you pretty much forgot the whole morning by now, and your stomach was an empty pit. You helped yourself to a seat between him and Seungmin before digging in.

“Hey,” you directed towards Jisung. He instantly perked up at attention despite you already shoveling food in your mouth. “How about that tour you were dying to give me?”

Jisung’s eye widened in recollection before nodding enthusiastically. He was just swallowing down a mouthful of food when Chan boredly interjected from across the table.

“Jisung should really be watching the bridge,” he stonewalled, not even looking at you. He simply browsed through his own tablet. “Just in case we get any updates from Fed Patrol. Relay pings will only get our attention so much. Besides, I thought Changbin already showed you around.”

The pilot almost looked bruised before he reluctantly nodded again. “I – we – yeah... That's right. I should probably get back to it.”

Jisung picked up his half-eaten dinner without another word before exiting the galley, heading up the stairs to the bridge.

You eyed Chan while you slowed down to a steady nibble on your food. What a dick.

“Felix, eat,” Changbin nagged.

“In a sec,” Felix replied as he rushed past, a tray in his hands that apparently wasn’t his. “Taking this down to the hold.”

Minho? 

A bulb of opportunity burst in your mind and you took a chance, turning to face Felix. “Seriously, you should eat. I can take it!”

Chan balked. “No, there’s really no need–”

“You know what? Thank you,” Felix tiredly lauded, offering you a hand out of the booth and then passing you the tray.

You caught the captain rolling his eyes before he got up. “Fine, whatever, Felix deserves a hot meal anyway. I’ll be in my cabin if anyone needs me.”

Felix settled into the seat you’d been occupying while Chan stalked up the stairs back to the bridge before you ventured down into the hold.

For reasons you couldn’t quite place, your short dinner with the men seemed weird. Maybe they were just like that, this ragtag team of rogues, but it didn’t sit right with you. Something was off.

You descended the stairs, checking back over your shoulder to see if Jeongin or Hyunjin were also coming down this way. The lights flipped on as you hit the bottom step. From this fresh perspective, you spied the hatch up to the service access beside the brig. 

“Awh, you shouldn’t have,” Minho grinned. You jumped when his uncuffed hands rested on the bars. “My little birdy just got out of the cage and she’s already back?”

“How’d you do that?” you smirked, nodding towards his free wrists before passing the tray through a slim slot in the door. Minho immediately dug in.

“God, that Felix can cook,” Minho groaned into the plate. “Anyway, you showed me how to do it, remember?”

“Without help?” you gawked. You'd never figured out how to do it by yourself.

“Sure,” the bounty shrugged, like it was nothing, “took a couple tries but I got it. Now did you just want to show me your pretty face? Or did you need something?”

You pulled over a crate to sit on, still glancing at the doorway every minute or so. Minho was doing the same, sitting back on the bench at the wall while he finished scarfing down his food.

“Why would I come down here if I didn't need something?” you teased. “Maybe I just missed you.”

Minho shot you a knowing sneer and you volleyed it right back at him.

“What’s your read on this crew?” you asked, your voice a touch lower now.

The bounty’s eyebrows raised in interest. He set the tray down beside him on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. His shoulders settled back against the wall. “Harmless. Fairly harmless,” he ruled, stroking his chin now. “Seungmin, the navvy, he’s good. I’m betting he does good business, too. I’m surprised to find him here, honestly, he’d probably do great in a proper desk job, like, even as a diplomat.”

“Space chasers,” you shrugged.

Minho nodded in agreement with the generalization. “You know it. He probably just prefers to roam. Hyunjin… He'd probably make a good diplomat, too, but for the opposite reason. He's as slick as they come. I'd watch out for him.”

“Already was,” you assured him. “What about Felix? Or the mechanic? Anything shady there?”

“Changbin’s cool,” Minho shook his head. “No more shady than your average guy. Felix is an angel so far; the only one that’s seemed to treat me like a person and not a piece of meat. Jeongin is good, too. He’s familiar? I think? But not in a meaningful way.”

“Like a boy next door?” you prompted. 

Minho concurred with a snap of his fingers. “That’s gotta be it.”

“Okay, so if it’s all peaches here,” you sighed, “do I even need to actually worry?”

The fact that this was all surrounding your stolen ring was driving you insane, but Minho’s serious expression brought you some comfort that you weren't being outlandish. 

“That pilot… Him and the captain. They’re both hiding something. No idea what, though.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the crate. “Something like a team job?”

“Not even,” Minho sighed. “But it’s something. It may not even be related, they might both have their own secrets. Things have just been weird the whole time I've been here.”

You digested this for a second before you stood back up, resolute. “Good to know,” you ruled. 

“What’s gotten you all curious?” Minho asked, his Cheshire grin returning. He smirked at your wink. 

“Maybe I have my own secrets,” you joked. 

“Hey,” he added, more serious now as he got up to meet you at the bars. “Do me a favor. Keep your wits about you, okay?”

You scoffed. “What happened to ‘fairly harmless’?”

Minho rolled his eyes while he snapped his cuffs back on. Appearances were important, after all. “Fairly harmless for a group of mercenaries, Nova. Not one of these guys hasn’t served time, and that’s only for what they've been caught doing. A crew like this? They’re pirates with permits.”

Minho rested his hands on the bars again. Just to keep things light, you playfully tightened the cuffs on his wrist a little more. He was cute when he winced, his nose scrunching before he tried to loosen them again. Something about your short time together and your brief repartee when you shared the brig with him earlier sort of made you a little endeared to the rogue.

“Hey,” you teased, “you almost sound like you care.”

“Who says I don’t?” Minho shot back. “Just meet these guys on their level, yeah? If they don’t play fair, neither do you.”

You had to think about that. You liked the sound of it. Minho’s ears reddened when you reached through the bars, seemingly to cup his face before you pinched his cheek instead. “You scoundrel. I appreciate that. I'll see you later.”

If they don't play fair, neither do you. 

Yeah, you liked that. 

Because Jisung really didn't seem to have played fair, if you suspected right. 

You eyed the stairs again, but quickly thought better of it. Instead, you headed over to the service access hatch. Minho watched, curious, before you gave him a short wave and popped into the small door. Unlike the upper service access connected to your cabin, the one that led to Chan’s quarters, you could fully stand here and the closed hatch to the top of the cargo hold sat at your feet. At chest height, the next hatch you passed was for the workshop, and then there was your room, the empty room besides yours, and further down the slim hallway… Jisung’s room. 

You leaned against the metal surface, trying to hear anything inside before you decided to go ahead and open the door an inch. In the dark and with no Jisung in sight, the plan was to leave the hatch open while you waited. Theatrical, yes, but maybe it was a little fun as well. Jisung seemed like a friendly enough guy. If you were going to find out that he was an asshole, you'd rather have a good time doing it. 

Minutes passed in Jisung’s cabin, and you were starting to doubt if this was dumb. What was your backup plan? Did you even have one? You propped your elbows up on the bottom of the hatch opening like it was a windowsill and kept waiting–

When the soft exhale of Jisung’s cabin door startled you. You stayed in place, holding your breath while you laid in wait. 

Jisung closed the door behind him and let out an exhausted sigh before you heard the distinct click of a charger clip. A small glow signaled the pilot raising the clip to his lips and inhaling. Amidst the dark, a small exhaust fan was flipped on. Jisung exhaled, a softer sigh this time carrying the sweet smoke of his clip. The next click was the light switch flipping. 

Jisung probably wasn't expecting you hanging out in the service access door in his room, judging by his simultaneous jump and scream. 

“Fuck-!” he wheezed, doubling over and coughing out his next puff of smoke. “What the hell are you doing in there?!”

“I see why you like lurking,” you laughed. “It’s pretty fun.”

“I do not lurk,” Jisung jokingly argued, almost relieved now that this surprise seemed friendly. “I sneak. Now do you want to get me killed? Chan forbids having girls in our quarters.”

“Ugh,” you retched, wrinkling your nose. “Sounds right. I was just going to suggest we actually go on that tour you wanted to give me so badly, like I was trying to say at dinner.”

Jisung looked over his shoulder, almost like he was checking for Chan, as if there wasn’t a shut door there. “You know what?” he scoffed. “You convinced me. He’s in his cabin for the rest of the night; the rest of the guys won’t care. Let’s go.”

You gladly accepted when Jisung leaned down to offer you a hand out of the service access. With the lights on, you could actually make out the modest living space. Jisung had one cactus on the windowsill, along with some miniature models of other space crafts. A jacket sporting a courier company logo on the sleeve was slung across the back of his desk chair. It wasn’t so much disorganized as it was comfortable… Although it was definitely a bit disorganized as well. You almost tripped on an errant sock when you followed him out the door. 

Jisung led you back through the galley. Off in the kitchen, Felix was perched on the counter while Changbin scrubbed dishes. Still at the booth table was Jeongin, cozied up into the corner with his book. Jisung pointed at the booth. “It’s a great piece, right? Found it sitting in a bay back at Sentury.”

You ventured back up the stairs to the bridge.  Hyunjin was casually sat in Jisung's chair at the console, using an eyepiece to inspect a bracelet against the abyss outside. His slippered feet were propped up on the console while he scribbled down some notes, never pausing to put down the bracelet or eyepiece squinted in place under his brow. 

“Hyunjin doesn't know it,” Jisung quietly snickered to you, “but there's a spare bunk compartment under the chair. Just gotta slide it back and there’s a button under the console. Great for catching a quick nap while on watch.”

“Doesn’t sound like you're watching, then,” you giggled. 

“You think Hyunjin is?” he shot back. He let you poke your head into the nav office that also served as Hyunjin’s research space at the back of the bridge. Charts and books and ledgers lined the shelves all the way up to the ceiling. Back on the bridge proper, you curiously pointed at a closed door. 

Jisung shrugged. “Old medical bay. We do keep the medical supplies in there if you need, but it’s mostly storage. Wanna see that view I was telling you about?”

You nodded and followed along, pausing when Jisung did to wave at Seungmin in his open cabin. Even more charts and books were in his room, but also a guitar and a few framed photos. Apparently, the navigator had turned his windowsill into a nest of a bed and was able to fit an extra desk in there. 

You tapped Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Aren’t the beds welded in?”

“Think that stopped him?” Jisung laughed. He took a moment at the top of the stairs to run his finger over the recessed seam of a door you hadn't noticed before. “No idea why you’d need to know, but this is the access to Chan's cabin. He’s been keeping to himself a lot lately so if you're ever wondering where he is, it’s probably here.”

Jisung led you back down and through the galley. By now, Felix was shadow boxing with Jeongin in the kitchen while Changbin serenely enjoyed a beer by the counter. You thumbed behind you towards the stairs down to the hold. 

“Gonna skip a whole floor of the ship?” you teased. 

“What, and subject you to Lee more than you already have been?” Jisung sputtered. “Anyway, it’s just Jeongin’s and Hyunjin’s rooms down there. Didn’t you wanna see these views? Quit getting distracted.”

He opened the door to the workshop and let you in before leading you to the back wall. Up here was a slim ladder to the catwalk overhead. Following the pilot up, you stopped for a second and tugged on the leg of his joggers. Jisung looked down to see you pointing at an opaque window up here. 

“Chan’s room still?” you asked. 

Jisung nodded. “He never has the window open. He says there's nothing to see and it’d freak him out if anyone working up here could see in.”

You shrugged. Fair enough, you supposed. You reached the landing behind Jisung and found yourself in a small loft at the back of the catwalk. Jisung motioned for you to wait and stepped over to the back wall to flip a switch there. Turns out, most of the top half of the back wall was a bay window, giving you a panoramic view of the twin trails highlighting the stardust in the Ambler’s wake when the shade was turned down. 

Jisung was sitting behind you on a short couch, fiddling with his eye patch. “Another great find. Grabbed this one as a freebie when we were bartering some surplus,” he explained, lovingly patting the piece of furniture. 

“I have a weird question,” you began, finding it hard to switch subjects from the view outside despite how much you were actually wondering. “How recently did you get work done?” you asked, pointing at your eye to clarify that you were asking about his own. “Did it hurt? Why just the one?”

“I thought I had questions,” Jisung giggled. “Wanna come see?”

You paused, shifting back from the foot you’d immediately put forward. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Jisung enthusiastically beckoned you over. “All the guys took turns looking at it already.”

The low couch squeaked when you leaned down to sit beside him. Jisung turned his knees to face you more and sat forward, just enough to not be invading your space. Your fingers brushed his fringe away from his brow before you gingerly pulled up the eye patch. Jisung’s eyes reminded you of the rich color of stained wood that you would find on imported furniture back home, the difference being the stars currently reflected at you. You gently tugged at the pilot’s eye socket to get a better look, first his eyebrow and then his bottom eyelid. 

“To answer your questions,” Jisung continued. “It didn’t hurt, the stupid thing is just light sensitive still. And that’s pretty much why I decided to do one at a time. I don’t have the cash to speed up recovery so I knew I’d be working while it got better.”

“Huh,” you acknowledged, still engrossed. If you looked closely, you could see the intricate wirework incorporated into the eye. 

“Hey… Nova?” Jisung asked, his voice softer now. “We’re friends, right?”

Not anymore once I prove you stole my shit, you silently answered. 

“Sure, love,” you wanly assured him, “what’s on your mind?”

“Does the ship feel like Chan’s?”

What a bizarre question. You considered this, now pretty much only cupping Jisung’s face and no longer inspecting him. 

“You know what?” you thought out loud. “No it doesn't. It feels like he works here. Why?”

“Well…” Jisung began. “Because it’s not. Chan’s, I mean.”

“Wait, what?” you asked. You tipped his chin up so he’d look at you again. “What?” you repeated. 

“I mean, it’s his now, I guess,” Jisung babbled. “It was mine. I've just never told anyone.”

“Jisung, please explain,” you urged him, settling down into the couch beside him.

The pilot sighed, settling more into the couch himself. “It’s not that special. My family has been working off a debt that they inherited from my grandparents for as long as I can remember. We never got close to breaking even until I started working with Chan. But he needed a ship and a crew and I needed a chance.”

“Jisung!” you gasped. “Do your folks know?”

He rubbed his face into his hands, shifting his eye patch back into place. “No, fuck no, they think I'm still a cargo runner.”

“And none of the guys know? Do you have a deal to get the ship back?”

“Of course,” Jisung immediately nodded. “Chan’s a good captain and a good guy. He ‘bought’ it for a portion of my debt and I'm ‘buying’ it back with half of all my shares.”

“But it feels weird,” you prompted him.

“Well sure!” Jisung reeled. “The Ambler’s my ship and Chan's in my cabin in my bed. Of course it’s weird! You ever been cucked by your own ship? Fuck, like she’s not even really mine anymore, is she?”

You tried not to be distracted by a glaring detail. If the Clessorian ring was really worth as much as Minho was alluding to, Jisung could easily resolve a chunk of his debt, if not at least buy the Ambler back outright. But you needed to play this even more carefully now. Jisung and Chan weren’t just captain and pilot, they were tangled in a whole arrangement. 

You decided you needed to get Jisung back in a more social mood, first of all. With a small push with your palm, you were able to pry the pilot’s head out of his hands and back into your own. 

“Jisung,” you softly soothed him. He still refused to meet your gaze. Getting a little more bold, you tipped your lips down and gently kissed him. Now Jisung was looking right at you, albeit gobsmacked. “The Ambler is still yours,” you continued, “even if you're not the sitting captain right now. You know more about her than he ever will.” 

You kissed Jisung again to seal your sentiment, this time his hand coming up and closing over your own. However, you weren't expecting him to ease you off of him, let alone with an amused laugh. 

“Minho warned me about you,” he chuckled. 

You sat up straight. “Lee? I thought you hate him! When did he have time to ‘warn’ you about me?”

Jisung shook his head. He still hadn’t relinquished your hand. “Hey, I never said I hate him, I'm just scared to leave you alone with him. You already spent a solid couple hours with him; who knows what charms he’s worked on you by now.”

“Charms?!” you repeated with a cackle. “You know this guy is a bit of a dick, right?”

“Look, you know what he did to even get this warrant, so–”

Jisung paused, noticing you looking confused. “You… You do know what he did? Right?"

You blithely shrugged. 

The pilot sighed. “The grand ambassador of the Daedalus system. His daughter, Momo, is kidnapped. And it’s Minho, leading this whole rebellion. Momo is saved, but she’s different. She’s changed. She’s constantly in the news, ranting and raving about Daedalus and one day she vanishes. Ergo, the bounty.”

“Somehow,” you denied, “I doubt Lee’s dick is worth treason.”

“What about mine?” Jisung brazenly joked. You shoved his shoulder but gave him one quick kiss for his effort. 

“You still never told me when Minho got a chance to warn you about me,” you chided. 

“What? Oh. When I grabbed your bag,” he simply answered. 

You eased a leg over to slide onto Jisung’s lap and hold him in place. If you could distract him long enough, who knew what he’d confess to? His hands rested on your bare thighs. 

You just kept pushing through. “And what was Minho doing when you got my bag?” 

He shrugged, caring about your questions less when you kissed his cheek and made your way down to his throat. “Nothing suspicious, if that’s what you're wondering.”

“That's not what I'm wondering,” you shook your head against the crook of his neck. You playfully wiggled in his lap, getting a teasing ass grab in return. “I’m more wondering if you did anything suspicious with my bag.”

Jisung’s hands stopped cold, and before you knew it he was shuffling you off of him and scrambling off the couch. He pointed at you accusingly. “You-! I can’t believe you’d – this was so – AUGH.”

“What��d I do?” you innocently asked.

Jisung was seemingly cursing his erection. “Don’t act oblivious!” he blustered, gesturing wildly at you still sitting on the couch. “You get me all alone and then get in my business and – oh you’re so evil – you're using your womanly wiles for – I don’t know – to hypnotize some info out of me?!”

You rolled your eyes.  “Jisung, if I wanted to ‘hypnotize’ some info out of you I'm pretty sure I would’ve been done by now–”

“Enough!” Jisung halted you with an exasperated sigh and his hand held aloft. “I… Am going back to the bridge. To work. And do my job. Fuck, Nova,” he groaned out an exhausted exhale, before turning heel and staunchly climbing back down the ladder to leave the workshop. 

“Jisung–” you tiredly called after him, getting up yourself to start running after him. 

The wheels in your head started turning, and didn’t stop when you noticed he left the workshop door open behind him. You crept closer to peek through and noticed Jisung. He was hovering by the door to his room while still facing the galley and stairs back to the bridge, like he was deciding which way to go. His hands were balled into fists, massaging his fingers into his palms. He tapped his foot, shifting his weight to alternate legs. You used this opportunity to see if your hunch was right. 

You slipped into your room and down into the service access hatch, ending up right back where you started. 

Leave it to Jisung to close his door and turn out the lights but not shut the hatch again. This was too easy, waiting right where you had been, and sure enough you called Jisung’s bluff. So much for the bridge. 

Jisung was cursing under his breath the whole way, one vitriolic, embarrassed stream of consciousness as he leaned back against the closed door in the dark. Your face heated up when you realized you were hearing him shimmy the waistband of his joggers under his hard-on. 

“Goddamn, little tease, what does she even want from me? Getting me all worked up with her – ahh, fuck – wet, hot – mmh, Nova–”

“Yes, dear?” you cheekily answered. 

Jisung screamed and flipped the lights on. He was shoving himself back into his pants. “You! Out!” he wheezed. “No girls in our cabins, remember?!”

“I'm not in your cabin,” you taunted. 

“Out!” he insisted, rushing over to push you back through the hatch door and jumping in after you to herd you further into the cramped hallway. 

You really should've brought a flashlight, now that you thought about it. You tried to back up into a more strategic position. Was the pilot going to charge you or run? There was no way to be sure. However, in the dark of the hall, you saw the faint red glow of Jisung’s eye when he apparently slipped his eye patch off. “Come on, Nova,” he invited you, surprisingly more serious now. “What do you even want?”

You took a cautious step back, luring him closer. Jisung froze when you boldly decided to come forward into his space. “Come on, Jisung,” you echoed him. “We’re friends, right? Use your critical thinking here. Someone on this ship – on your ship – stole something from me, and I'm betting you know something about it.”

“Fuck you, search me,” Jisung laughed spitefully. “You think I'll rat out the guys?”

“Thought there was no honor among thieves,” you retorted, taking him literally and backing him up into the railing, feeling out his pockets, under his shirt. Jisung jumped.

“Say what you want, but we’re a crew. I've done time for less, for Chan.”

“The same Chan who’s sleeping in your bed, in your cabin?” you sneered, knowing you were pushing his buttons by the way he grabbed onto your elbow but didn't push you off. You nuzzled your lips into the ticklish space under his ear, causing his knees to buckle. “Come on,” you taunted in a sweet murmur. “How long’s it been since you had a girl in your cabin?”

Jisung jumped back, tripping over his own feet and flying backwards onto his ass and bringing you down with him. You capitalized on the opportunity, sliding a hand up under his shirt and down, just barely under the waistband of his joggers. A full body shiver coursed through Jisung under your fingertips. Between your legs, where you were sitting on his hips, you felt him just as hard if not more than when you were back up in the loft. 

“Fine. Please, I'll do whatever you want, just can I please have a piece of you,” he pleaded, his hands traveling from your hips to your waist and under your thin tank top. 

You ground down against him, just a little bit. “You only have to tell me the truth, Ji,” you insisted. God, he was making you want it, too. 

“I am telling you the truth, you asshole,” Jisung rasped. “I have no clue what you're talking about. What do I gotta do to help you trust that I didn’t do whatever it is you think I did?” he babbled, fully panting. 

You nodded, giving in. “Let me search your room when I'm done with you.”

“When you're done? What do you mean when you’re– oh god,” he croaked. 

The pilot gasped and cursed when you got him in your grip and immediately spit on his length to help slick him up. His head thunked back on the floor the second he felt you tease your entrance on his tip, your fingers desperately pulling your shorts and panties to the side to let him rock into you. Jisung bucked up, needy for you and trying to savor you sinking down onto him. 

“How useful is that eye right now?” you smirked, a shiver running up your back once your soft walls squeezed tight around his full length. 

“Honestly, your tits look great even covered with a shirt,” he marveled. You rolled your eyes, picking up the hem of your tank. 

“How about now?”

Jisung groaned in response and automatically groped at your chest, the thumb of his other hand searching to figure out how to inch past your clothes and massage your clit. His hard cock thrust up into you, bouncing and grinding you on his hips while he couldn't stop whimpering and cursing under his breath. 

You balled a fist into Jisung's hoodie and yanked him up under you, manhandling him so he was slumped against the wall so you could start riding him again, this time kissing him deep as you fucked him. Your tongues mingled together, fighting for breath while you both climbed your peaks. Under his shirt, you could almost make him sob just by teasing your fingers over his nipples while you hungrily made out with him. 

“Fuck- Nova, I need to-I’m gonna–” he whined.

“Me too,” you assured him. “Kiss me and fill me up-”

“Yes baby,” Jisung helplessly nodded, rocking you on his cock even harder until he finally hit his climax, his bruising grip on your hips accompanying his gritted curse between his teeth while you came apart on top of him. You dazedly kept making out, feeling him throb inside you while you both came down. 

For once, the evening seemed to slow down. You kissed Jisung’s brow, right over his enhanced eye before you eased off of him, leaving him a crumpled mess while you hopped back up into his room. 

He took a minute to recover and found you stretching as you picked through his cabin. “So – I'm sorry – what’re you looking for again?”

“I got a payout from the last gig I worked in T’kaarm,” you impatiently explained, flipping through Jisung’s cluttered bookcase. “It was a ring made out of Clessorian Ore.”

“... A what?”

You sighed, looking back at Jisung resting on the frame of the service access hatch, just like you’d been earlier. “Clessorian Ore. From Clessoria. The mining planet destroyed a couple hundred years ago. It was, I dunno, dark blue but with, like, silver and green flakes in it? Is any of this ringing any bells?”

Jisung looked so blankly at you that you thought maybe you'd been speaking gibberish to him. You pointed at your own collarbone to signal to him that you'd left a small mark there. He clapped a hand to the crook of his neck. “So…" he began, finally catching up to speed. "The ring was in your bag…?”

“And it was gone when I opened the bag in my room, after you brought it up to me,” you nodded. 

“So why jump me?” Jisung wondered, almost bashful. “Why not Minho? He was down there with your bag the whole time.”

You huffed out a frustrated groan, still sifting through Jisung’s stuff to make yourself feel better. “Stealing from a bag you’re left alone with? It’s too obvious for a guy of his caliber! And he’s the one that recognized the ore! Far too risky and suspicious for him. What about Chan?”

“What about him?” Jisung asked, affronted. “Did he steal it? Hell no.”

“He’s right above my room!” you argued. “Hyunjin said he saw him right before I got to the workshop for the first time.”

“Hell no,” repeated Jisung. “He’s more of a wealth redistributor if anything.” A little more sweetly, Jisung softened when you flopped down onto his bed, defeated. He pulled a charge clip from his pocket and clicked it on. “I do see why you think so, though. He’s been a giant dick all day since you came on board. He's been a raging dick lately, but especially today. It took less time for him to warm up to Jeongin, and he was a stowaway, too.”

You flipped on the exhaust port for him. “Fine,” you sighed. “What about the rest of the crew?”

Jisung waved a wisp of smoke from his face. “Hard to say. Even Seungmin is more cavalier than he lets on. But you said Hyunjin was in the workshop when you got there? I don’t like how convenient that is.”

“Look,” you decided. “If you help me, I'll cut you in for half when I flip the ring.”

Jisung already had a hand out to shake when you turned to face him. He shot you a smooth grin when you shook on it, and used your grip to help pull him back into his room. “Why not? I don’t have anything to lose. But I need to know what the plan is. We only have so much time before the Hatchery, and you'll get the best price at Sentury Station… Which is also what whoever stole it is planning on.”

You thought it over, first settling to leave Jisung alone for the night. After all, girls weren't allowed in the crew's cabins. He met you by the door. 

“Got it. I appreciate this, by the way,” you told him.

It was his turn to wink at you. “We’re friends, aren't we? Now who’re we going after?”

You considered this. It really could be Minho, despite how obvious it was. But also, Jisung had to be wrong! It had to be Chan. He hated you from the moment you came on board and he has to have some agenda. You could prove it, too, but you just needed to make sure Jisung was distracted. Or... Jisung could've had a point. It was way too convenient that Hyunjin, the crew's appraiser and dealer, was in the workshop when you got there. He easily could've come up from below before you arrived.

[zuluc]

im excited for the update tomorrow ☺️ the first chapter of dywc will be up @ 11 pm pst ! in the meantime, we can have another streamer steal out hearts for a little bit 🥴

kazuha doesn’t like to stream too much into the night because it cuts into the time he should be sleeping. he acts like he’s too old to stay up but denies all allegations about his late night writing sessions or 2am stargazings. but his chat convinces him to stay later quite often because, ot be very honest, his streams put them to sleep especially if they start at night.

if you guessed that it’s because of his voice, you are correct. 

it’s a bit like zhongli’s, someone friends with another streamer you know, in the way that it’s soothing to listen to. he doesn’t yell or shout, just mutters under his breath if something goes wrong or he gets scared by something. his laughs are light and airy that you could miss them if he isn’t that close to his mic. his chat likes to joke that he speaks in lowercase and he only looked straight into his camera in the middle of a game and spoke “i’m aware.” 

“you guys are like chairs.”

his chat: “aww because we give support??” referring to his gaming chair

“no. because i can’t stand you”

he gives a little hehe as the messages of shock come in

this also goes to show that he prefers to play chill games that require just clicking and no keyboard movement. he talks a little during games that do have those mechanics because he likes to focus on quick decisions rather than speaking in the moment. this happens during first person shooters and he stops for a moment after getting a kill for his team to say that he doesn’t want to play anymore.

“xiao showed me neko atsume last night and i want to play that instead of this”

if there’s one person left he just clocks out and lays back in his chair to just watch from behind a wall. gorou’s character comes into view and he just watches him before leaving and finding the opponent himself. 

“sorry gorou, i’m done. i want to go outside, the skies are clear and i can find constellations i was talking about”

he’s so comfortable with his streams and his audience that he can just up and leave at random times. despite streaming being what he does, he hates staying in one place for too long. some company sent him a vr headset to test out and that was all he played for a week straight at one point.

in one stream he does randomly bring up that he can play a leaf. everyone didn’t believe him so he made them wait for twenty minutes as he was looking for the right one in your backyard. he comes back with a straight face as he stays in the doorway to blow on it

“i told you so”

now this is where you come in ☺️

if you’re in the room but staying off to the side away from the camera, during a break he’ll lean over and kiss your forehead before standing up and going to the bathroom. sometimes his streams go late into the night and he’s been walking/moving around in his room so he gets tired, as one does. you come in with water and snacks to which he swivels around and smiles when he first sees you. forget the game and whatever he was saying, he wants the food and for you to sit next to him. 

or to sit on his lap because hey why not. 

if you’re there too you just watch and nod as he directs conversation towards you and you have to remind him that he’s streaming with a bunch of people watching. he turns back like “huh? oh, right” this happens often and he doesn’t even notice the comments about you guys in his chat

let’s move onto aesthetic,

besides his voice, people like to watch him because of how he presents himself. it’s a chill and calm environment despite some comments he may have here and there (he does have a soothing voice but the comebacks and roasts directed at his chat and friends,, he has absolutely no chill) it’s like he sounds like he’s complimenting you but the words say otherwise yk

in the back is a large fishtank beidou gave him and he has many in there named after his friends. it has its own lighting because he’s a sucker for decor with all of this being on a custom concrete table. the tank takes up like half the counter space so he decorates the sides with hanging plants and fairy lights. don’t judge him, he downloaded pinterest for a day and that’s what stuck

there’s a collectable katana hung up on the wall above the tank because he noted that every other streamer had a large piece of artwork. so why not a katana?

he’s a comfortable gamer anyway. full on hoodies and sweats because he likes to keep his room at -50 degrees for absolutely no reason. it does give him an excuse to throw you one of his jackets when you walk in so it’s a win-win if you think about it. on occasion, if he reaches a milestone or something, he’ll wear a silky dress shirt that’s cozy and nice. maybe he’ll even keep his hair down

but his hair is usually up with that red streak visible. a high ponytail is common if it’s hot outside (but with his internal room temperature of antarctica smh) or a low bun if he’s tired. someone sent him a maple leaf hair clip because he was dubbed as from canada after a stream with aether, and he wears it quite often

does he have piercings? yes. not on his ears though. :p

how do you think he can blow that leaf ?

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

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