#somebody please give me a fucking decent full-time job. give me some fucking reason to believe things will get better

[marzipanandminutiae]

I didn't get the sewing job

I just.

why do I even keep going. nothing's ever going to change and nothing's ever going to work out and nobody's ever going to fucking want me

I'm going to get old working part-time jobs with no house and no family and no fucking future

and the economy's about to tank with Tr*mp so if I don't get something before that happens it's never going to

what's even the point honestly. when nothing ever-

[bigfootwrites]

{escort fic}

This idea has been in my head for a while. People on the server seem to like it. I’ve gone back and forth on whether this is ooc or not but nobody has mentioned that it is so I’m gonna roll with it. It’s just a concept idea but if people are interested I’m happy to turn it into a full fic so please do let me know. Can also be read on ao3.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface  @improlificinsarcasm  @baronessblixen @foxscully @gillywitch @arboreta @agirlcallednarelle @starbuckthirteen @clarke-oswald

- - - 

He should go out and meet somebody. Get to know them, fall in love with them, build a relationship with them. Yet, relationships took time, he had been down this road multiple times and each one had ended just as badly as badly as the other, this recent relationship taking it to the next level.

He was divorced from somebody he once worshipped and the custody of their child on the line.

He wasn’t going to make a habit out of this. His hand and porn usually did the job but it didn’t always fill the void, fill that sense of loneliness that has been there since he was twelve. Sometimes he just wanted physical human companionship, sometimes he just wanted that too much.

Yet still even after swiping a leaflet that fell out of a magazine at the Lone Gunmen’s for an escort agency it took him a week to build up the courage to call them.

He chooses something called “A Girlfriend Experience”, picks someone somewhere within his age-range and tries not to feel guilty about the whole thing.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was running late.

Tardiness never felt like an option with her yet Emily had refused to go to bed even after Dana told her she had to go to work. It had ended with Dana a few minutes behind and Emily asleep in her bed.

But it was time to push that life aside for now, to enter this restaurant as Danielle and Danielle doesn’t have a child named Emily or a pile of textbooks to study through.

The restaurant her client had chosen was nice enough; one of those business-y type places that not many wealthy people touched but it was still classy enough to be considered decent to use.

It was rare that she would be fed- food wasn’t often part of the price, after all, it was an extra expense. Besides, most of the men she had encountered just wanted a suck and a fuck and maybe the odd therapy session. Maybe around three of her requests were for this Girlfriend Experience and it wasn’t like she was rolling in requests that much anyway.

Dana had realised quickly the types of women men went for: blonde, tall, boobs. Short redheads who just about fitted into a B-cup never made the cut that often.

Yet, for whatever reason, she had be chosen. From the emails sent this man seemed nice enough of course from the stories she would hear that wasn’t something concrete to go off. People could carefully choose the words they typed, could portray themselves in a certain way online. The same could be said for in person interactions too but people were more likely to slip up during those.

For now, Dana is tucked away, she dons Danielle and approaches able 25 where her companion for the night waits for her.

When she gets there, it’s a gentle tap on the arm, a smile, and a simple “Hi, Mulder.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Mulder’s heart stops in his chest as he stares at her, struck with the thought of how breath-taking she is.

He wouldn’t say little redheads was his ‘type’ but as he was going through the countless lists of girls he hadn’t wanted somebody his type, he wanted no reminder of Diana and so he had chosen her; Danielle, 5’3, 26 years old and the complete opposite to Diana.

He hadn’t seen her face before, for whatever reason she had kept it off the page, Mulder hadn’t been expecting much in terms of looks because of it yet he can’t keep his eyes off her.

He realises she’s said his name and almost comically stumbles his way to standing up, bashing a leg against the table making the cutlery jump and a brief amount of pain to ripple length ways across his right tigh.

“Danielle,” he says wincing through the pain. Her professional name knowing full well it wasn’t her real name. He might be new to this escort world but 1-800 numbers and taught him enough about fake names, maybe he should have considered using one.

She looks to be smiling at his clumsiness, fighting it back, trying to hide it.

A shaky start Mulder thinks, as he pulls out her chair yet she’s sitting down before he gets a chance to show how much of a gentleman he is.

He’s looking through the drinks menu when he realises she’s staring at him, drinking him in. It makes him feel self-conscious.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Danielle seems to have realised what she was doing, she quickly looks away from him.

“You’re just…different to who I usually meet with,” she says.

Mulder smiles wryly and cocks his head.

“Is that good or bad?” he asks unsure himself.

“That’s good,” she tells him. “Usually I get the…older men and they definitely don’t go out of their way to buy me food.” She lifts her head up and smiles waiting for his reply.

He has none other than how strange he must seem to her right now, how sad. He also tries not to feel jealous at the thought of her with other men. It’s a thought that comes out of nowhere, a thought he has no right in occupying.

“So do you come here often?” she’s asking.

The answer to was that no. It was a drive away from his apartment, away from any potential sightings of colleagues or people he sees on a daily basis.

“Never,” he says realising this could be chaotic.

But she’s laughing and it’s one of the nicest sounds his eyes have ever heard.

“I hope you didn’t come here just to try and impress me.”

“Try?” he counters. “So I take it you’re not so easily impressed?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been told as much.”

Mulder leans in, surprised at how comfortable he feels around her, how at ease he is.

“Well tell me,” he says. “Are you impressed?”

She looks around the establishment, pretending to think.

“Hmm…I think you could have done better.”

“Okay,” Mulder says leaning back and giving the room a once around himself. He would say he’s done pretty well but she’s laughing again, giggling actually, and the restaurant doesn’t matter.

They order food, not that he’s particularly hungry anymore, but for some reason he doesn’t want this to end. Spending $300 a night to talk seems better than spending $300 on an apology.

“So,” Mulder begins. “What do you do aside from…this.”

He wonders about the answer he will receive. She’s lied about her name, will she lie about this or will to follow the truth as much as she can, altering things here and there. He wonders how much of her true name is in her fake name.

“Well…through the day I study mostly,” she says and this perks his interest.

“What do you study?”

“Uh…” He sees she’s searching for an answer and it breaks his heart to know that he isn’t getting the truth though he had expected her to be a bit more prepared for these questions.

“Chemistry,” she finally says. “I wanted to be a scientist.” She says it almost shyly, tucking her head in and refusing to look at him. He amends his previous thought, perhaps there is a truth after all.

“Wanted?” Mulder asks. “Is that still not possible?”

“Well…I guess so. I’m just worried about somebody hiding out about…this.” She purses her lips and shrugs.

Mulder wonder if he’ll get to ask why she does this but then wonders if that’ll be rude to ask anyway even if did get the chance.

“Well, let me pose you a question,” he says just as their food arrives. “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

He watches as she processes his question, her eyebrows knitting together as she attempts to formulate an answer and Mulder is curious as to what that answer is.

“Logically, I would have to say no,” she says slowly. “Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed the spacecraft’s capabilities.”

Mulder finds himself impressed with her, the certainty in her answer, he wonders if he’s getting a glimpse of a real person beneath the professionalism, other character.

“Okay, conventional wisdom,” he says, he expected it. “But when convention and science fail us, should we not start looking to the fantastic as answers?”

He thinks he’s caught her, she takes a while to answer, thinking it over through mouthfuls of salads. Mulder is too preoccupied with her mind to worry about the food that goes cold beneath him.

She swallows her food, sitting back in her seat and Mulder waits for the mental foreplay.

“That’s only if convention and science actually fail us.”

He thinks he’s in love.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There’s an easiness Dana feels around Mulder. He’s nothing like her previous clients who see nothing beyond her sexual capabilities. Mulder seems to be interested in her mind, in her and she worries she might have revealed too much of herself to him but it’s rare she finds somebody to match her intellect, her classmates can’t keep up with her, her professors shut her down in order to give other members of the class a chance. She feels intellectually frustrated at times.

“Why do you ask all this?” she inquires.

Mulder shrugs. “Oh, it’s just a hobby.”

“Talking about extraterrestrials is a hobby?”

He looks away and mumbles something she doesn’t quite catch.

“What was what?” she asks.

“I look for them.”

It’s endearing, how different he is from anyone else she’s ever met.

“Do you think you’ll ever find them?” It’s not to jest or to make fun of him.

“I’d like to,” Mulder says with an essence of hopefulness in his voice.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He makes the decision that he won’t fuck her.

He’ll pay $300 as a fee to access her amazing mind if he must.

They go away from the talk of aliens, something for which Mulder was glad. He has his own secrets locked away and if they continued on the subject anymore, he was worried they would tumble out of his mouth and he’d reveal how spooky he really was. They talk of other stuff, he throws conspiracy theories at her that he barely believes in himself just to hear her debunk them with finesse. She was the one who was right and he was wrong and Mulder is completely okay with that.

He stops when he reaches her hotel, this is the end of one of the best nights of his life. He’ll go home, think of her, perhaps rub one off to the thought of her, and that will be that. He’ll bin that leaflet and they’ll never talk again.

But she’s stopping when she realises he isn’t beside her anymore and turns with a puzzled look on her face.

“Tonight was great, Danielle,” he tells her. “I really enjoyed it.”

Her face almost seems to fall when she realises what he’s doing but she picks herself back up again, nodding.

“Well,” she says walking back towards him. “If we’re not doing that anymore at least let me give you this.”

Her lips touch his and fireworks go off behind him. Mulder feels as though he’s experiencing his first kiss all over again, new and exciting, and a fear that he’s doing something he’s not meant to do.

It doesn’t take long before he’s kissing her back, his tongue trying to gain access to her mouth and to her own tongue. She grants him permission, thank god, and he almost melts inside her mouth.

They fall against a wall, his head collides with the brick but he doesn’t care, there is nothing else on his mind other than the want to pick her up. He’s bent at an awkward angle because even in heels her forehead just about reaches his chin. He’s unsure what to do with his hands, on her hips, on her waist. She seems to become annoyed at his indecisiveness and takes his hands in her own, placing them against her ass all the while not breaking the kiss.

He grows impossibly hard as his senses go into overdrive. He wants her so bad when he said he wouldn’t.

“Danielle…” he moans coming up for air.

“Dana,” he hears her say and at first he’s confused wondering what she’s talking about. “Call me Dana.”

The penny drops. Her name!

“Dana.”

She’s back on him, kissing him harder this time and Mulder was kidding himself before; he’s going to make love to her.

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 2]

Birds Of a Feather

(In the previous chapters: Layla and some of the guys are trying to prepare a decent New Year’s Eve party, while Eddie and Sara went to watch the final installment of The Godfather saga; an attempt of Ed to become closer to Sara failed miserably)

“Ok, so, I have a ball”  Sara was still shaken when she got home and it took her awhile to steady her hand and insert her key correctly into the lock. But what she heard Layla say from the living room, as soon as she pushed the door open, managed to break the bubble of numbness she fell into after the movie.  “Alright, go on” Mike prompted Layla to continue as he was sitting right in front of her on the couch, together with the other friends who were forming a sort of semicircle around the girl. “I’ll give it to you, then I’ll give it to you, then to you, and you…” she went on with the game Sara knew too well, addressing the guys one by one “Then I’ll give it to you, Sara, hi!” Everybody in the room turned to greet Sara briefly, only to focus back on Layla a moment later.  “Then I’ll pass it to Mike again, then to Stone. Who’s got the ball?” the girl concluded and asked. “SARA!” Mike shouted animatedly. “Hi to you too, Cready. I see you’re already in overdrive despite the early hour” Sara smirked as she hung her jacket and approached the group. “I’m very happy you’re here Miss Fancini but… I wasn’t talking to you, that was my answer to Layla’s game. And I bet I’m right, am I not?” Mike talked gently to her, then turned to question Layla with almost crazy eyes. “No, it’s actually Chris who has the ball” the girl shrugged. “CHRIS?! How can it be Chris? You didn’t even look at him!” Jeff complained from his seat. “It’s Chris, sorry guys. Wanna try again?” “No, thanks, I’m already tired of this and I guess I’m not the only one, am I right guys?” Stone tried to stop the game, not because he was actually bored, but more to prevent the mess his bandmates were gonna make until they’d find the solution. “OVER MY DEAD BODY!” Mike blurted out. “Nobody’s leaving until we guess the right answer” Jeff added. “You mean until I guess the answer” the guitarist pointed out. “Yeah that’s exactly what I meant: until I guess the correct answer, ha!” Ament retorted. <Fuck, this is gonna be rich…> Stone thought as he sipped his beer and enjoyed the show. “Shall I do it again then or not?” Layla chimed in during the verbal fight and everybody nodded yes. “Right. Now… as y’all know by now, I have a ball” she added with a devilish smile. “Oh Jesus”  “Shut up Stone! Go on, babe” Jeff yelled and the girl was almost surprised the bass player was using an endearment term to call her instead of the usual Four Eyes or other funny nicknames. <He’s probably being kind only to get some hints> she soon realized.  “I pass the ball to Matt, then I give it to you” Layla pointed at Sara and then at different guys in the room and in the end she asked again who had the ball. “Is it Jeff?” Chris tried to guess out of the blue. “Yes, Chris, it’s Jeff! Good job! But why?” the girl pointed at Cornell who suddenly had all eyes on him. “YOU! HOW DID YOU DO IT?!” Mike yelled at the singer who wasn’t really aware of being at the center of the attention in that moment. “I don’t know, I thought… maybe alf… alp… you know the letters, as they go…” Chris hardly mumbled something. “ALPHABETICAL ORDER! IS IT? I KNOW IT IS! AM I RIGHT?” Jeff basically stole Cornell’s answer since he wasn’t in his own mind. “No, that’s not the right answer” Layla shook her head no but Jeff insisted. “What? Of course it’s the alphabet! You said it was Chris, then me” “Did you forget I was the one who had the ball on the first round?” Stone added with an annoyed voice “Then it was Matt, then me again. What kind of alphabet do they teach in Montana?” “Oh right…” Jeff sulked then squinted as if he was trying to concentrate more on the possible solution. “You’re following an order anyway, are you?” Matt asks. <The first question of the evening with some sense, thank God> Layla sighed internally. “No, that’s the point, I’m not following any specific order” she replied but someone misunderstood the answer. “ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU’VE BEEN MAKING FUN OF US FOR AN HOUR AND YOU’RE JUST CALLING PEOPLE RANDOMLY?!” Mike stood up but Sara pulled him down on the couch. “Hey, just relax! That’s not what she meant” she admonished him. “I only meant I’m not following an order but THERE IS a reason why I’m calling people. The reason is that… they’ve got the ball” Layla explained calmly and Mike’s face finally turned back to its natural color. “So it’s because of something we got…” the guitarist nodded but ignored something that someone else was ready to point out. “… And how did you know what she really meant, Sara?” Stone asked right when someone rang the doorbell. “Right! How did you fucking know?” Ament growled and all of a sudden Sara was the focus of the whole attention. “Well, that’s because I was the one who taught her this game” she candidly replied, reaching into a bowl of chips. “WHAT?” Mike gasped and the doorbell rang again. “Err, isn’t anybody going to answer the door?” Layla said, timidly standing up. “Lemme do this, so I can put an end to this stupid cross-examination” her best friend was quicker than her, and went to the front door munching. “Oh, it’s you” she dead-panned, taking a step to the right to let Eddie enter the apartment. “Yeah, I-I just took a walk” he said, stepping inside “Where’s everybody?” “In the living room, wasting time without getting anything done” she shrugged and made her way to the other room, with the guy right behind her. “Hey, it’s Eddie!” Mike enthusiastically greeted him, then patted the space beside him “C’mere, buddy, our dear Layla has been entertaining us with the most mind-blowing game that mankind could ever experience!” “Is that so?” the singer smiled at the girl, then plopped himself where his bandmate had pointed. “It is, indeed!” Cornell chimed in, then looked in Sara’s direction “And her friend, here – what was your name again, darling?” “I can’t believe this… you’re so full of shit, Chris” she snorted, stuffing again her face with other chips “Audrey Hepburn, that’s how people call me” “I can see why, the two of you could practically be sisters!” he retorted, sipping some beer for the umpteenth time “Anyway, as I was saying, miss Hepburn here has confessed to be the one who taught miss Layla this trick of the mind, so we’re gonna extort the solution from her!” “... Over my dead body”       “Nobody’s gonna reveal anything to anyone, you’re all gonna play honestly and ask questions and find the solution using reasoning and deduction” Layla tried to have the guys focus on the game. “In that case I think you’d better go and buy an inflatable number 2 balloon because we’ll most likely be still here one year from now without knowing the solution” Stone said, making Layla laugh. <Why is she laughing? Does she think I’m joking?> “Haha, come on! It’s easy! Ok, Eddie you probably don’t know but… I have a ball!”  “Alright” Eddie tried to concentrate, especially because he didn’t want to make a poor figure with the girl. “I give it to you first” “Ok” “Then I’ll give it to Mike, then back to you, then back to Mike once again. Then I’ll pass it to Sara, then back to you. Who’s got the ball?”  “Uhm… I got the ball”  “Yes! Why?” “WHAT?” Jeff yelled. “Beginner’s luck” Mike mumbled between gritted teeth. “Because..  I was the last one to get it?” Eddie tried to guess. “Pfffft! As if it was that easy!” the bass player snorted and had a sudden revelation “Wait, it’s because he arrived last! You’re following the order in which we arrived, right?”  “Nuh-uh, I’m following no specific order, I told you! And Eddie’s answer was only 50% correct anyway” Layla went on and dropped another hint. “What do you mean?” this time it was Stone that asked, taking it personally: he pretended he didn’t care but he felt he HAD to find the solution. “Somebody else has got the ball too” El shrugged and the guys went nuts. “WHAT THE HELL??” Mike cried. “... Two balls?” Jeff followed.  “Balls usually come in pairs anyway” Chris joked and the room went silent for a couple of seconds before everyone burst out laughing. “Hahaha, you idiot! By the way, Eddie and Chris both have the ball” “Sara, please, put an end to this. Can’t you see we’re suffering?” Matt chimed in, still in stitches. <Weeeell, if YOU ask me, I can’t say no> Sara pondered and it was like her roommate could read her mind.  “… NO FUCKING WAY” she hissed and in that instant Sara knew that, since the F word was pronounced, hell could start any minute now.  “I don’t wanna know the answer, I wanna play! Try me again” Eddie clapped his hands and winked at Layla. <If I had an actual ball, by now I’d have squeezed it until it exploded…> the girl thought as she went back to being her usual smiley self, trying to act nonchalant. “That's because you’ve just arrived! We’ve been racking our brains over this fucking ball for an hour!” Ament complained, then turned around and, unexpectedly, offered his best puppy eyes to someone else “Ok, Sara, what do you want to spill the beans?” “Cough, cough! I have a ball!” Layla ignored the comments and started it all over, while the other girl gestured zipping up her own lips. “Please!” the bass player pleaded once more, and Sara turned her face just in time – apparently, the puppy eyes were working better than her expectations suggested. “I’ll give it to Mike, then to Matt, then I’ll give it to you, Sara, then I’ll keep it to myself.” the other girl continued, adding another new element “Now, who’s got the ball?”  “Now I can see: balls are brain cells going lost during this game” Stone joked but was immediately shushed by everyone. “Is it… Mike?” Eddie tried. “No! It’s Matt and Stone”  “... Jesus Christ” Mike face-palmed, letting himself fall on the floor. “And nooow, Sara and I are gonna give you all a moment to ponder” Layla stood up and literally pulled up her friend from the couch and dragged her away from the living room. “El, I don’t know what’s happening to me but I’m starting to pity them. The caveman even begged me! Maybe I should give them the solution…” Sara remarked, still surprised by how low Jeff could stoop to have the solution. <Pity, sure… and Matt’s charming smile has got nothing to do with it, right?> Layla thought as she pushed her friend even more away from the gang’s protests. “C’mon, you don’t have to stay here and tell ‘em the answer!” she exclaimed, while the other girl rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not partaking in this madn-” “Run along, you have to get changed and ready for the party! There’s no time to waste by dawdling here!” she took Sara by the shoulders and dragged her until they were in front of Jeff’s ex-room “I’m sorry but for the hair and make-up this time you’re kinda on your own, I have to supervise the preparations” “Great loss, now I’m actually offended” the younger girl dead-panned and then faked a noble, detached voice “You’re free to go, servant” “Your Grace is so full of understanding, I shall never thank you enough!” Layla laughed and quickly went back to the living room, afraid of how many different kinds of damage could be awaiting for her, while Sara finally opened the door in front of her.  “Nice try, El” she smirked, eyeing the jumpsuit that was lying on her bed “It would be a real shame if somebody were to completely ignore your innocent suggestion…” The girl caressed the velvety texture of the clothing and simultaneously went for one of the dresser’s drawer handles, pulling it towards her without looking at it, but it was apparently stuck. “Oh, fuckin’ great… That asshole obviously couldn’t check if the room was falling to pieces before chivalrously lending it to me” she muttered, trying again with more strength; once again, the drawer didn’t budge.  “This is ridiculous – whatever, just lemme grab something quick from the closet so El won’t feel the urge to bug m-” While she was pulling, Sara heard a faint metallic sound, so she looked better and finally found the bitter truth: the closet and every single drawer inside her room had been sealed up with a plethora of lockets. “What in tHE FLYING FUCK IS GOING ON HERE??? EEEEEEEEEL!” she roared, running away from that living nightmare and demanding immediate explanations from her so-called best friend.     

“I can’t see why you’re making a fuss about this? You love that jumpsuit, don’t you?” Layla was rubbing her temples as she tried to stay calm and talk to her friend through the door, which had been locked by Sara from the inside. <I should have made the room keys disappear, how could I forget?>  “Yeah, I love it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to wear it!” “It’s lovely and looks great on you and I didn’t buy it for you to keep it in your closet forever! I wanna see my present finally put into good use”  That seemed to shut Sara up, leaving her with her mouth open but no words coming out of it. “And I bet everybody’s gonna love it, especially the guys!” Layla added, making the worst mistake. “... OH YEAH, THAT WILL SURELY BE THE MAIN REASON FOR ME TO WEAR IT” her best friend regained consciousness “PLEASING GUYS IS MY MISSION IN LIFE” she roared back, while Layla tried to convince her to lower her voice. “Shhhhhh fuck, I was almost there!” the girl cursed at herself for talking too much and went back grasping at straws “Who said anything about pleasing anyone? I just meant that they’ll appreciate your party outfit and won’t make any unpleasant remarks about it. Plus they’re mostly drunk, what they say makes no sense anyway, so who cares? And since when do you care about men’s opinion? A bunch of guys now stop you from doing what you like or wearing what you want?”  “THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY GODD-wait a minute, it actually makes sense” “Of course it does! Come on, get out of that room, please” Layla insisted, pleased with herself for pushing Sara’s right buttons. “... I don’t know, it seems like a stupid thing to do; after all, it’s you who wants me to wear the jumpsuit, not me” “Jesus…” Sara’s friend rolled her eyes “Right, since you don’t wanna wear it, don’t do it. But remember I’ve got all the keys so I’m really curious about what your alternative choice of clothes will be in the end” “My pajamas would work too, you know?” Layla wanted to smash her own head against the wall or against the door so she could open it and put an end to this, when she finally came up with something. “Alright, put your pjs on… Wait, that’s not a bad idea at all! Let’s all put pajamas and turn this into a slumber New Year’s Eve party! Sara, you’re a genius” “... I didn’t think you would have agreed with my idea, but-” “I’m gonna go and tell the others! I heard Jeff sleeps in the nude, did you know that?” “YOU HEARD WHAT?!”

************************************************************************************************ 

“There she is! Where have you been? We were talking about you!” Matt waved to a girl who was slowly pushing her way through the crowd, and the whole group of people near him turned around to see who was coming. “All good things, I hope”  “If you’re dressed like that? Always, Sara” the drummer winked at her, then threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him; needless to say, the girl blushed to the roots of her hair. “Is that a jumpsuit with the zodiac?!” she heard a loud gasp and turned in the direction of another girl, shorter than her and clinging to her boyfriend’s arm, whose eyes were literally shining. “Yep, it is” “That is so gorgeous! Can I come closer to better see it?” “Yeah, no problem” “Oh my God, you’re an angel! Thank you!” the other girl almost squealed in excitement, then jumped in front of her and began to study her garment “This is real velvet, I can’t believe it! Where did you find this gem?!” “I think it’s that shop in Pike Place… Vintage Clothing?” “... the place where Xana used to work” the girl had turned to face again her boyfriend and share a knowing look with him, then refocused on her “I doubt I’ll ever find something as cool as this, but thanks for the tip”  She offered her a genuine smile and her hand to shake: “I’m Demri, by the way, and this is my boyfriend Layne” “I was the one who told ‘em to come, hope it’s alright!” Chris chimed in, giving a nudge to the Alice In Chains singer. “You did the right thing, Cornell; they’re cool enough to hang with us losers” Sara grinned, then waved back at Layne “Hiya to you as well, stranger; how are your bandmates doing?”  “Oh, Jerry is with a girlfriend of his and Sean and Mike went to do a tour of some of the hundreds of parties that this city has to offer – but I wonder how Mike will react when I tell him that I went to the same party that you attended” the guy smirked at her “Did he come to visit you at your workplace?” “Nope, thank God” “Fear not: he will… soon” “He’s gonna get me fired! Please, can’t you come with him so you can keep him at bay? Pretty please” “Hey, it’s not my fault if he doesn’t understand a single thing when you’re nearby… his brain short-circuits” “So you’re the one who has poor Mike wrapped around her finger! I can see why” Demri joined them again, giving the girl a little nudge “If it helps any, he seems pretty serious about it – I, for once, have never seen him acting like that before” “I don’t know, I’m not that keen on trusting men… seems like a waste of time” Sara shrugged, then followed Layla with her gaze: she was talking with Stone and Ed and seemed really invested in drinking what was inside her glass. 

“Can I get one more try?” Eddie pleaded Layla, who was chatting and drinking with him and Stone in the middle of the living room among the party guests. “No, you can’t” Gossard answered in her place, officially because he was fed up with the game, but actually because he wanted to be the one to guess the solution right. “Sure you can! But, as I said, I’ll tell the solution after midnight” the girl replied sipping her sangria through a straw. “Alright, alright eheh, no pressure, I swear” Eddie put his hands out laughing and his guitarist friend rolled his eyes so hard for a moment he thought his retinas detached. <No pressure? Tsk, that’s your problem, man. What about putting a little pressure on this girl for a change?> “Ok so I have a ball, then I-” Layla started but was soon interrupted by a stranger’s voice behind her back. “Who’s got a bong?” Stone didn’t need to look up to the person who spoke to know who it was and a smile appeared on his face. “Hey Lukin! I thought you’d never come” Gossard patted his friend on his back. “Uhm, now that’s not something I hear that often... too bad you’re not a girl, Stoney.” Matt replied and finally noticed the other two people looking at him with the same perplexed expression on their face “Hi, so where’s this bong of yours? I’m ready”  Layla laughed as the guy clapped his hands once and then rubbed them together. “She said ball, not bong, you asshole!” Stone explained barely holding his laughter. “Yeah, right, hehe, it’s a game, you know? Anyway, I’m Layla, nice to meet you” she stretched her hand out and he looked at it suspiciously before shaking it. “Nice to meet you too. But you shouldn’t play with people’s feeling and promise bongs that are not actually there. That’s not nice at all” “Oh, sorry… well, I’m sure somebody brought something to smoke, don’t worry” Layla was almost apologizing for doing nothing and that made both Eddie and Stone laugh. “Who needs bongs? We can always make a pipe out of a can, do you remember?” Stone said referring to older times. “Yeah, and that’s when we came up with the motto Who needs a bong when you have coke?” Lukin explained, suddenly serious, as he was a teacher talking to his students. “Smoking through a coke can? Isn’t it dangerous, with the chemicals and everything?” the girl retorted. “Chemicals are not as dangerous as Matt Lukin” Stone remarked while Eddie introduced himself too. “Nothing’s as dangerous as Matt Lukin!” another guy came up from out of nowhere and put his hands on Stone and Matt’s shoulders, then his attention focused on the girl in the small circle “Layla?? Hiiiiii!” The color drained from the girl’s face once she recognized the guy’s face. “Steve! Hi!” she faked an excessively big smile and both Eddie and Stone, although for different reasons, noticed something was off. “Wait, do you know each other?” Stone asked confused. “Well, either they do or they’re champs at Guess my name” Lukin pointed out. “Huh… well, yeah, I know her, she’s the girl who works at Scarecrow Video”  “THAT ONE?? OUCH!” Matt almost yelled, only until Steve squeezed his shoulder very hard. “Yeah, and I know him as a customer, ehehehe” Layla went on. <... And as the guy who asked me out and I had to turn down> Layla told herself as she thought about Steve coming to the shop and striking up a conversation with an excuse to get to know her. She didn’t understand he was flirting with her  – not even the fact he used to come over to the shop ever so often opened her eyes. The fact he started to rent at least a couple of movies every day gave her a sneaky suspicion.  “And how do you know each other? I’m Eddie, by the way” Vedder tried to make his handshake as firm as he could. “Steve” “Yeah, I’m good at Guess My Name too” Eddie continued. “The new singer, huh? Well, Stone and I used to be in the same band. Did you tell them about Green River or is it a taboo topic?” Turner joked trying not to make it too obvious that he was drooling all over Layla. When he asked her out and she turned him down, he didn’t take it too well. He knew she had a boyfriend, she didn’t miss a chance to casually drop his name during their conversations.  <But he wasn’t in Seattle after all… I mean, he was in a different city, in a different state… he was in fuckin’ Massachusetts! Why waste your time and your youth with a long distance relationship?> “Oh yeah, you told me you were in a band! But I think it was a different band, or I didn’t get the name right maybe” Layla chewed on her lower lip trying to remember the band name he had told her. “I told you about Mudhoney, that is my current band” “MUDHONEY! That’s it, yeah, now I remember!” “Well, now I’m in Mudhoney with this guy over here and another couple of guys, who are not at the party” <Thank God!> Stone thought, picturing a fist fight between Mark Arm and Sara as very likely. “He said that guy over here because he doesn’t remember my name anymore” Lukin said shrugging. “He remembered hers though… and she remembered his, he must be a regular customer, right?” Vedder realized his comment was out of place the moment he said it but it was too late. “Yeah, sort of… not now though, I mean, not as much as I used to” Steve answered. “Oh, and why?” “Well-” Turner started to speak but Layla interrupted him out of the blue. “I’ve never tried with a coke can but once I smoked pot through a carrot” the girl gave her statement and Matt’s attention focused on her right away. “What?” “And once I got high with a snorkeling mask too” “WHAT??” Stone and Eddie yelled at the same time, as they probably found the second option weirder than the first one for some reason. “I like your attitude. Can I become a regular too?” Lukin suggested, then turned towards Steve “Ehm, can I? I’ve got no bad intentions, I swear” This exchange didn’t go unnoticed to Stone and most of all to Eddie, so Layla had to come up with another diversion. She started jumping and waving around her arms like the wings of an eagle, apparently wanting to get everybody’s attention. “HEY GUYS! WHO WANTS TO PLAY A GAME?”  

“Another one?” Jeff walked up to Layla and then acknowledged the rest of the group “Hey, hi guys!” “Yeah, we haven’t even finished the first one yet!” Stone complained. “Oh but I wasn’t thinking about a riddle, I meant something different, like a group game” the girl explained trying to ignore both Steve staring at her and Eddie staring at Steve. <Is this some kind of weird Mexican stand-off or something?> Layla asked herself in disbelief. “Make it a drinking game and I’m in” Lukin gladly accepted. “I had no doubt about it” Steve laughed. “MAKE IT STRIP POKER AND I’M IN TOO!” Mike yelled as he appeared out of thin air, coming back from one of his frequent trips to the bathroom. “Cready, I swear to fuckin’ God, if I hear you babblin’ one more time about this heckin’ strip poker, you can bet your sweet ass I’m gonna tie you up to a chair and force you to listen to Barry Manilow non-stop until your brain oozes out of your nose like fuckin’ pudding, understood?!” Sara had just stomped in their direction, making her opinion about the guitarist’s suggestion crystal clear. “... you’re no fun, Sara” McCready gave her his signature puppy eyes, along with a big pout, but the girl replied with a punch on his arm. “Yeah, in fact I’m not joking at all: you know I can do it and I will, so don’t tempt me” “Sara Fancini? Is that you? I can’t believe it” Steve chimed in and finally Sara turned around and registered his face. “... Well, I’ll be damned! Steve Turner!” she replied surprised. “If we were playing the drinking version of Guess the Name as I’ve been suggesting for hours, I’d be already drunk now” Lukin mirrored Mike’s pouting face while a bunch of guests had stopped to see what was happening. “You know her too. Wow. Are you a regular at Easy Street Records too?” Eddie narrowed his eyes at Turner as he addressed him. “I’ve known this guy for longer than six years, what do you mean ‘a regular’? A regular loser? A regular pain in the ass? Oh wait, you’re not in Jeff’s band anymore, so you might stand a chance in life, after all” Sara smirked and couldn’t help catching a glimpse of Ament’s angry face when she said that.  “I haven’t seen you for a while though, I didn’t remember you being so harsh” Steve pointed out with a smile. “... You tell me” Jeff remarked through fake coughing. “Oh right, you were in their band and Sara knew you back then” Eddie finally joined the dots. “Earth calls Eddie, Earth calls Eddie. Good morning Eddie, glad you’re finally back with us” Stone joked prompting an awkward and embarrassed look from the singer. “And where does this bullying against Jeff come from? I honestly remember you were getting along so we-” Steve insisted, dredging up the past, but he was promptly interrupted by Sara. “DID I HEAR SOMEONE SUGGESTING ‘NEVER HAVE I EVER’?? LET’S DO IT” “Someone who? I didn’t hear anything” Mike pointed out as he looked around. “Also because we’re not at a sixth grade party?” Gossard added but Layla immediately loved the idea and ignored him. “Yeah! That’s exactly what I was thinking about: a nice group game. I’m in!” “My idea of group games is a tad different but… ok, as long as it’s about people drinking and falling down on the floor I’m in” Lukin shrugged and joined in as other guests did.  “It can involve drinking?! COUNT ME IN” McCready chimed in again, going near Lukin and sharing a high five with him.

[ferallymine]

Someone You Loved

A/N:: Y’all BakuLin has me by the BALLS and I just LOVE these fucking dorks okay so let’s go ((also slight lyric change at the end ehehe~))

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

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy 

Katsuki Bakugo was going to be the Number One hero. There was no way he wouldn’t beat everyone in his class. All these losers and damn nerds were just stepping stones to his victory.

Push past the bullshit. Cut through the dramatics. There would be no contest- Katuski would be the best.

…

So why did this blue haired bitch keep knocking him on his ass?

I need somebody to heal Somebody to know

Lin’s quirk was… versatile. More useful than his own, but he’d never admit that aloud. As much as he enjoyed trying to fight against her in each training match, there were days that she was better as an ally.

“Wanna team up for this round?” Lin asked, stretching out her arms.

“Tch, why would I wanna be with a nerd like you?” Bakugo huffed, crossing his arms.

She shrugged, “Alright then, I’ll just go ask Midoriya. He’s not afraid of teaming up with me-”

“GET BACK HERE I’M NOT AFRAID WE’LL BEAT ALL THESE OTHER TEAMS INTO THE GROUND!”

It was strange at first, pairing up with her instead of fighting her. She was still working out how to apply different aspects of her quirk, which gave her fuel for small talk in the City Ruin Arena.

“Did you know everyone radiates a unique frequency?” Lin placed a magenta glowing hand to the ground, “This’ll be an easy rescue job.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow at her, “You can locate people?”

“Kinda. I’m still tweaking out different applications of my quirk.” She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your energy frequency. It’s 420.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ENERGY DRINK WHY’D YOU GIVE ME THAT DUMB NUMBER!!”

“I don’t assign frequencies, Baku!”

“FUCKING HELL, LIN! WHERE’S THE RESCUE PEOPLE?!”

She rolled her eyes, hand still glowing, “Midoriya is southwest of our location. I can’t detect Jirou, so she must be farther than my range.”

Making their way south, Lin kept up the idle chatter, “Why UA?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, c’mon Bakugo. Is it because All Might went here?”

“Stop talking.”

“The Shiketsu high school has a nice uniform. You’d look sharp in their hat.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lin.”

She stopped walking, “Is there something wrong with me wanting to get to know you?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, “Stop talking as if we’re friends. I’m not your fucking friend.”

He realized the effect of his words when he saw the light in her eyes go out. Lin didn’t speak the rest of the session.

Somebody to have Somebody to hold

“I WIN!” Ashido threw her hands up, left hand still clutching the controller, “Eat your heart out, Calamari!”

“BUT I HATE SQUID!” Kaminari sunk to his knees, defeated.

Kirishima pat the electric boy’s head, “We’ll get ‘em next round. Not like Asui did anything anyway. Mina CARRIED THE TEAM!”

“HAH! ONE GIRL BEAT TWO BOYS’ ASSES!” Ashido pointed, reveling in her victory.

“I’ll wipe that grin right off your face,” Lin snatched the controller from Kaminari’s limp hand.

Ashido’s smile widened, “Alright, Dea!!! Come at me with all you got!”

“Ribbit, you need two players for this game. Who’s your partner?” Asui put a finger to her chin.

Lin scanned the room, “Baku! You’re my partner!”

“EH?!” The blond boy’s face flushed with confusion.

She grabbed his wrist, “No refusals. We’re pummeling their asses tonight. I wanna see the joy of winning crumble within them as we smash their fictional bodies into the floor.”

Lin’s scary vibe got Bakugo to join, “Fine, but only because we’re guaranteed victory.”

Four pairs of eyes were glued to the screen. The rest of class 1-A watched intensely at both the screen and the players.

“NO!!!”

“YEAH!!!”

“HAH TAKE THAT!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“ribbit…”

Ashido sank to the floor, soul crushed, “If you hadn’t taken my sword…”

“We won!” Lin suddenly leaned over, crushing Bakugo in a hug, “Thank you, teammate!!” She let go just as quickly, returning her attention to lighthearted jests with the class.

…

Bakugo didn’t know what kind of warmth he felt in that spontaneous hug… but he wanted another.

It's easy to say, but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

 Something was off and Lin could just…feel it. They way Bakugo walked. How hunched over he was. How…more reactionary he was, even for his known dramatic flare-ups.

She waited until everyone was about to head out for hero training before cornering him in the hallway.

“Lin what the fu-”

“Don’t play coy,” Her eyes were crimson, “Something’s wrong.”

Anger flared back, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” He struggled against her grip on his shoulders, but a glow of energy kept him pinned.

His jacket loosened around his collar, thanks to not wearing a tie. Lin noticed a…

Bakugo followed her eyes, “No it’s not-”

Before he could finish, she pulled him back into the dark empty classroom. In a flurry of motion and glowing energy, Bakugo couldn’t react until he stood shirtless before her.

“BITCH THAT’S NOT FAIR GIVE THEM BACK!” Pink on his cheeks, he lunged for her.

She stepped aside, unintentionally causing him to crash to the floor. No words could fall from her mouth.

His torso…was covered in disgusting bruises.

Bakugo kept his face hidden, screaming at her, “STOP STARING AT ME YOU FUCKING PERVERT. I GOT THESE AT TRAINING.”

“We…haven’t had combat for 2 weeks.”

“I DID SOLO WORK!!” He got up, still not looking at her, “GIMME BACK MY SHIT!”

“Bakugo,” A gentle hand rested on his cheek. Lin slowly raised his face to hers, kind green eyes gazing into angry red ones. His body trembled, fueled by anger and hurt. Knowing he wouldn’t dare whisper about it, Lin resigned her current tactic. She laid the shirt on the nearby desk and simply hugged him. It wasn’t tight. It was gentle, soft. Without saying a word, her arms slid under his own and came to a rest in the center of his back.  

Foreign. It felt so foreign to have this warmth swell in his chest; to have anyone hold him like this. Bakugo froze, not knowing how to process this sensation.

Should he push away?

Should he hug her back?

“…you don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” Lin mumbled into the crook of his neck, “Just…just know I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

 The armor around his heart cracked. Suddenly the sting of his wounds didn’t hurt anymore.

 Now the day bleeds into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all

 The Villains…they found them…

Blue fire threatened Bakugo’s neck. He couldn’t move, making the situation even more terrifying.

Where is she… where’s Lin… Bakugo’s eyes scanned for her. The Villains said they wanted her, too. So if she wasn’t here, she was safe, right?

Screaming from the left.

Bakugo almost gave himself whiplash, turning to see a Nomu split in half with red energy.

No…

Lin landed in the clearing, crimson firing up.

No please run get away from here gET AWAY

“YOU BASTARDS!” She charged, bolts in each hand.

The man in the top hat cackled, “Finally, we have both packages.”

Bakugo noticed the blonde girl behind her. “MARDEA NO-”

I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

 The shift from crimson to lilac was instantaneous. The blood flow even more so.

Lin collapsed to her knees, shaking. Eyes wide with horror at the metal speared through her body.

“He he he!” The blonde girl with twin buns giggled delightedly, “Fresh blood for Toga!!!”

The scream caught in Bakugo’s throat as she smashed a rock into Lin’s head. Her body crumpled, unconscious.

Everything faded to purple as they were dragged away into the portals.

…

Bakugo heard nothing of what this flaky skinned bitch had to say. His focus was on Lin, who was tied to the wall opposite him. She was still unconscious, but the villains did manage to bandage her up decently. At least she wouldn’t die from blood loss.

“HEY!” The flaky skinned bitch knelt down, forcing Bakugo to look at him. The rest of the villains moved positions to block his view of Lin, “I’m talking to you!”

“And I’m not listening. Get the fuck away from me,” He pulled against his restraints. Smoke from failed explosions seeped through the cracks.

That blonde bitch who stabbed Lin chipped in, “Oh! Oh oh oh Shiggy! If he’s gonna be one of us shouldn’t we, ya know, take off his restraints? If he gets hectic, I can always stab him, ehehehe~” The…obvious blushing taking over her body was disturbing.

“You have a point, Toga.” Shigaraki took out some keys, “Let’s formally welcome our new member.”

He didn’t wait a second more than being release. Bakugo set off well-timed explosions; crossing the room to kneel by Lin’s side.

“Dea…” He shook her shoulder, attempting to wake her up. Bakugo kept his eyes on the group before him, one hand ready to fire off unwanted advances.

The burnt fucker eyed him, “Of course, you run to the helpless one. How noble of you.”

She stirred, green energy wisping off her body. The bonds around her arms and legs began to glow. “Baku…go…” The bindings turned into pure energy, dissolving into her body. The new surge gave her just enough of a boost to wake up. She leaned on Bakugo for support to sit up properly. Blood seeped through her bandages, yet she ignored it and summoned a green shield around herself and him.

The lizard stepped back, “Shigaraki… yeah you said your sister had a cool quirk but that’s… that’s nuts and it’s not even her full potential.”

Sister?! Bakugo’s thoughts went wild.

“More of a reason for her to be here. Right, sis?”

Lin stayed silent; for fear or stubbornness, Bakugo couldn’t tell.

Everyone tensed when a knock came to the door.

Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say, but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

 They were in this…ruined warehouse. The night sky was eerily clear, casting bright moonlight onto their situation.

Bakugo held tight to Lin, keeping her from slipping back into unconsciousness. His spare hand put small rocks and debris into hers- easy way to force energy into her body.

Now stable enough to stand, Lin leaned into him for some support. They kept their eyes on the group of villains around them.

“Miss Mardea Lin,” A booming voice from above, “I’ve been looking forward to this interaction for years.” A large man floated high in the air.

“Thinking you can brainwash me like Tenko?” Lin cocked her head, “Bold of you to assume you can control me.”

Laughter, “Of course I can’t control you. I want your power.”

“Over my dead body.” Lin’s stance wavered, forcing Bakugo to hold her tighter to himself.

“That’s the idea.” Red and Black lines jagged out from his fingers.

He moved without thinking. Bakugo pulled Lin into himself, turning so his back faced the flying man. Shielding her from the attack.

Nothing happened.

Bakugo opened his eyes and saw white.

The shield was white. So was her hair. The look on her face was vacant, yet dangerous. Turning around, the lines were broken into uneven shards, unable to penetrate the white surrounding the duo.

“What?!” A furious tone from the flier.

“This isn’t yours to take.” Her voice was a deadpan echo.

More lines shot out, each one shattering upon impact. Again, again, again. The Man visibly became upset with the antics. “STOP RESISTING ME, CHILD!”

Distracted by her, the Man didn’t see someone honing in until a punch connected to his jaw.

Heroes swarmed the scene. The one responsible for the punch was All Might, himself.

“LEAVE THE CHILDREN ALONE!” His commanding voice put shock into the villains’ bodies. Other heroes began fighting against the remaining villains.

An unimaginable mass of ice pierced the night. A shadow jumped it, like a ramp. Everyone was too distracted by the fighting to notice, save for Bakugo and Lin.

“COME ON!” Kirishima held out a hand, screaming as loud as he could.

Tightening his grip on Lin’s body, Bakugo let loose an explosion and flew off towards his friend.

 And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

 Bakugo sat in the hospital room, forcing back tears as medical staff went in and out of Lin’s room.

Keep it together, Katsuki… not here not now not ever you’re better than this you’re STRONGER than this you’re not a fucking weak-ass nerd she needs you don’t fucking cry it’s just a little longer-

I fall into your arms

 Bakugo waited until everyone left before going into that room. Lin had woken up the next day, memory slightly foggy and pain only a 7/10.

“Hey, you…” She smiled at him as he walked in, “I was wondering when you’d NGH-” A quick hug cut off her sentence. Something wet streamed onto her shoulder.

Bakugo didn’t dare say a word. It was bad enough his god damn tears broke through; he didn’t need a voice crack ruining his image.

“Thank you, Katsuki…” Mardea placed her gentle arms around his body, “You saved me…”

He pulled away just enough to press his forehead to hers, “I… I was…I couldn’t lose you, Mardea.”

“I’m right here,” Her smile was so reassuring, “I’ll always be here, Katsuki.”

I'll be safe in your sound till I come back around

 When the dorms were built, Katsuki made sure his was near Mardea’s. The class knew something about their dynamic changed, but couldn’t quite place it.

The duo knew they were safe in each other’s presence. After the kidnapping, it was rare to catch one without the other. They liked their unspoken relationship.

 For now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you're right here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And you built me back up

I’m so happy being someone you love

[saidbyes-blog]

( FRIEND OF GRANT'S ) ebony harrison ( 24 / she/they ): demigirl & friends who seemingly clicked despite emotional distance, and acquaintance of mallory's. ( nina nesbitt ) ( PACE / 20+ / SHE/HER )

hello ! so, i’m typing this up straight after acceptance ( lmao, talk about eager ) so hopefully anything i inevitably forget, i can add between now and when this’ll actually be posted, so you actually have some decent info to work with ! but i’m pace ( which is obviously an alias but,,,, pls just call me pace ! ) and my pronouns are she/her ! and moving on to the one you actually wanna know about... 

—– ❀ okay, so !! as you can see above, ebony is a friend of grant’s ! on the surface, they seem to just ‘get’ eachother, but of course ebony is completely oblivious to who he really is and what he’s capable of. however, because ebony isn’t the most open and uhh,,, Not-Closed-Off as people, it kind of works ? in a,,,, neither of them ask too many questions kind of way ? it’s mutual, y’know ?she kind of sees him as a guy who’s Not Like The Other Guys ( while lowkey a voice in the back of her head is like ALL GUYS ARE LIKE THE OTHER GUYS ) and they just seem to Understand eachother. but ebony can be a sceptical little fuck, and she’s generally just Wary in general sometimes, but she also wants to believe that some people are good and their intentions are as they seem and it’s Pure. even if she EVER got creepy vibes from grant, she’d either be like CREEP EVIL NASTY BYE SEE YA or convince herself she’s making it up because of relationships with people in the past. but ofc, the worst part is that he’s never given her any reason to think grant is anything but just a nice, charming guy who’s maybe a little pretentious and quiet but that’s basically the worst thing about him, and if it were to happen now, she’s in too deep for it to be a red flag. yoikes. but we all know that to everyone else he just looks like a,,, Nice Guy. either way, he’s a friend, and their lack of actually being as close as they may seem isn’t that weird for her ( which i shall explain in a different bullet point bc this is long ! )

—– ❀ she isn’t a complete plum, and won’t turn a blind eye forever, but in the recent months/so far, she’s come to grant’s defence, thinking that anybody who’s pointed the finger at him is a) unoriginal and b) has clearly never met him. she thinks it’s cruel and unnecessary. like, her pov is that he lost his girlfriend, who told the story of what happened/was going to happen to her, and it’s as simple as that, in a ‘why would mallory write about that otherwise’ kind of way. she’s applying logic to it and i’m like oh,,, honey,,, you sweet summer child,,, plus, grant’s manipulative ass is looking all kinds of charming and innocent and whatever. HOWEVER, things slowly unfolding and eventually ebony beginning to question things ! yes pls ! internal conflict !

—– ❀ however, ebony also briefly vaguely knew mallory ! she attended a few of her yoga classes ages ago, and it’s a complete coincidence that ebony knew the both of them. if/when grant ever mentioned mallory to ebony, the name wouldn’t have clicked, and since she never met her outside of the classes, it took her a while to click why mallory looked so familiar when everything blew up after her death. it kind of weirds her out that someone she knew was murdered, and that it never clicked that Grant’s Girlfriend was the one who taught those yoga classes, but it’s just a complete coincidence ! 

—– ❀ TW FOR ABUSE MENTION: ebony hasn’t read the book, and doesn’t plan on it. she might one day if she’s feeling impulsive and self destructive, but because of the subject matter, she’s avoiding it. it had nothing to do with being grant’s friend ( even though most people would probably question if it’s the Moral and Ethical thing to do, that doesn’t even cross her mind -- she’s not the most moral of people tbh ) and has more to do with the fact that she’s been in an abusive relationship in the past, herself, and she’s just like............nope. ( / end of tw ! )

—– ❀ she didn’t grow up in new york, and has only called it home for for a few years. but she also travels a lot, and is very flaky, and can disappear for periods of time just to show up announced a few weeks later. it’s not weird for her to drop off the grid for a bit ( sounds safe, ebs ) and it’s not weird for her to ditch social circles and local hangouts in general and just ghost, and she’s also lived in several different states across the country. she cannot commit to anything ever, including places. it’s actually odd that she’s been in new york for so long, but she loves the energy and the spirit of the city. and it’s massive so if she tires of a certain spot, she can drift elsewhere ! plus.........plot convenience. 

—– ❀ sometimes she might feel a little out of place tbh ! she’s not an academic and she definitely didn’t come from money, and doesn’t have an abundance of it now, either. she’s a bartender, as that’s always her job when i play her lmao, but i might give her another too but i’m still flipping back and forth so..... tbd !

—– ❀ TW FOR DEATH: a bit of background: she was born in california to amelia robinson & david harrison, a young couple who hadn’t been together all that long when they found out they were expecting, but were madly in love nonetheless. david was completely devoted to his daughter, but he sadly died when she was seven. after his death, some hard truths to swallow came out about him, and her already distraught mother was even more heartbroken. life was pretty rough after his death and her mother couldn’t really cope anymore and became someone that ebs ended up not really recognising, and she became kind of cruel. she’s since forgiven her mother for who she became and therefore how she then treated her daughter, but they’re not close. ebony left cali for a few years after turning seventeen, and when she returned at twenty, she found her father’s broken watch, which she sometimes still wears now. it looks out of place on her thin wrist, especially since the damn thing doesn’t work, but she likes it nonetheless and refuses to get it fixed. in ways like that, she can be,,, a little pretentious ( again, why her friendship with grant works ) and while we’re on the subject of that..... ( / tw ends ! )

—– ❀ her personality is a little messy. she can be very........difficult ? especially as a friend ? though she’s kind-hearted and forgiving and can be very gentle, she’s also temperamental and vague and selfish. she doesn’t mean to be selfish, but she just is. it’s,,, probably infuriating to some people ? as well as the fact that she’s very easily misunderstood due to being hard to understand. yet she also doesn’t like people making the effort to try and understand. yet also wants someone in her life who does understand her. like.........she wants something, but won’t let anybody make the steps to get the thing she wants ? like.............jfc, ebs. she also cannot deal with anything, and it’s not uncommon for somebody to think that everything is going fine and they’re getting on with her great, but then shit hits the fan and the real things happen and she’s like !!! bye !!! so, again, she’s a bit of a flight risk right now. bc like...... well, a murder’s a pretty big thing, my dudes. but also, in her mind, one of her friends is going through some Big Stuff what with his girlfriend being “murdered by her ex” so although most people would be like “gosh golly i should be there for him” there’s a part of ebony that’s like “cannot............deal...............want.......................to yeet.........” but because it’s his Trauma to deal with, it’s easier for her to stay. for example, if something happened between herself and grant that was mutual ( no matter what it was ) that caused angst, that’d be more of a reason for her to Yeet because it directly effects her ? if that at all makes sense ?

—– ❀ quick thing about gender and pronouns !! gender is messy and complicated ( to her ) and she accepted that long ago, but she identifies as a demigirl. her pronouns are she/her, HOWEVER she really appreciates when people use they/them when she hasn’t explicitly stated her pronouns to somebody. she just ,,, thinks it’s the respectful thing to do, but it also makes her feel Valid. she mostly identifies with the gender she was assigned at birth, and tends to present very femininely, but that doesn’t make her any less nb, y’know ? and she doesn’t like people,,, forgetting that she’s Not A Woman ? a lot of the time she’s worried people won’t see her as being nb and even her nb friends she’s sometimes convinced will just forget she’s Not A Woman ?? however, she’s okay with sometimes being referred to as a girl, but always on her own terms. like.......her mobile header literally says ‘sad girls club’ but like..... on her own terms, y’know ? so tldr: if we could pls refrain from referring to her as like ‘the woman’ or ‘the girl’ in threads, that’d be greatly appreciated !

—– ❀ some extras if you want to see/read more about the goblin: stats, playlist, pinterest, aesthetic, old drabbles*, old about/drabble. she doesn’t have a full bio, as the last one i wrote ended up being over 7k words and honestly.........who has the time

* if you click this one, please be aware that trigger warnings apply for abuse, as well as vague/tiny mentions of pregnancy.

extra connections !!! if u want !!!! idk !!!

—– ❀ friends from out of town ! if anybody is from anywhere else in the u.s outside of ny, or they spent a lot of time somewhere else, they totally could’ve known eachother a few years ago. bc ebony has lived in several different places, i can probably wiggle things around and make it work no matter what state they’ve lived in !

—– ❀ friends ! as you might’ve gathered from the rest of the intro, ebony can be a little Difficult, but she’s still kind at heart, and can be soft, and thoughtful ! so, friends that have no problem with her, friends who call her out on her bullshit, friends who she’s ditched in the past, friends she parties with, friends who have tried to Fix her, friends she trusts more than most, etc etc ! as the great sutton foster once said, anything goes !

—– ❀ fwb/hook-ups/flings/exes ! whether they’re things of the past or kind of ongoing, it’s pretty open ! ebony likes people of any and all genders, and ( not dissimilar to mallory, actually ! ) has no problems spreading her love around. which is basically the beating-around-the-bush way of saying she has a lot of sex with a lot of people, and i support her ( ... eh, when it’s healthy ) but one night stands, friends that have no problem keeping things causal, people she dated for a while, something that started casual but Feelings happened and it’s messy, all kinds of stuff is good to go !

—– ❀ people who were also in the yoga classes mallory taught at the time ! it would’ve been a while ago but if the Yoga Peoples would’ve been there back in the day too then perfect !

—– ❀ grant’s other friends ! people who met through grant ! we all have that friend we met through a mutual murderer, right ? or someone who eb met through grant and they can’t fucking stand eachother ? someone she met through grant but then shagged and now it’s awkward ? people who were actually friends with eachother first and one of them introduced grant to the other ? people who she only met at mallory’s funeral bc they were both there to support their murderous pal ? having the two of ‘em meet unrelated and then find out casually like oh shit u know my good bitch grant ? wild ! all kinds of shit !

—– ❀ roommates ! what are the realistic chances of a group of roomies all knowing either the gal who got murdered or her boyfriend ? slim as fuck but plot convenience !! maybe two or three roomies ? ny’s expensive and ebony isn’t a rich gal !

—– ❀ tbh though i also really love just.......... throwing the characters into a situation and seeing how things go, and having people meet for the first time and stuff, but i also love pre-plotted and intenser stuff, and messy/complicated plots work really well with eb ! i love all kinds of things, i’m down for w/e. while we’re on connections though, i tend to suck with plotting and i’m sometimes a little slow with ims, but i just want to make that Known so it’s not taken personally or anybody thinks i’m not interested anymore or anything ! i’m definitely replying, i promise !

okay so if you read all of this, you’re a saint and greatly appreciated ! apologies for the rambling ! feel free to drop by if you’d like to plot or anything like that ! ps. pls enjoy the fact that i scheduled this while watching the ted bundy thing on netflix, bc it tickled me. bit too fitting huh lads. 

[joonbird]

Breakfast in Bed

➭ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: ikea employee!au, smut, fluff, semi crack/humour

wordcount: 12k

❀ 2 / 8 of my oneshot requests ❀

**Warnings: Breathplay & cumplay. Heavy usage of Ikea puns. OT7 are in this as very AU Ikea!employee versions of themselves. Also, this fic is definitely not an accurate depiction of what working at Ikea is like. I’m sure irl they work very hard and don’t have wild sex on the beds.

This is, without a doubt, one of the worst days of Yoongi’s life. 

It’s not so much that this day is particularly terrible in itself, but rather, it’s that this one day is unbearably boring. Yoongi’s entire life has been utterly imbued in mediocrity for the last year. If fresh out of high-school, bright eyed, bushy tailed Min Yoongi could see him now, working full time in an Ikea... Words would certainly be exchanged. 

“…Well?” A voice draws him out of his thoughts, and he glances up from under heavy lids. He tries to keep his face calm and free of contempt. Needless to say, it’s a struggle. His store manager Kim Seokjin stares back at him with an unimpressed frown.

“Do you have an answer for us, Yoongi?”

Shit, what was the question? Yoongi glances furtively at his co-worker Jungkook, who as always is being completely useless, throwing him a shit eating grin and an overexaggerated thumbs up. Yoongi fights the urge to roll his eyes and flips through his memory, attempting to dredge back whatever it was that Seokjin wants an answer to.

Ikea staff meeting, store targets, new collection of Swedish kitchenware… oh right.

“My long term goals in this company are…” Yoongi begins, and he has to fight al of his instincts to not let out a derisive snort, because he definitely doesn’t have any long term goals in this God-forsaken hellhole, “… To memorize all the product names.” He tries to deliver his words with as much conviction as humanly possible, but his attempt falls flat. He knows full well that he would rather wrestle a grizzly bear naked, than memorize over 500 obscure Ikea product names.

Despite his flat intonation, his answer seems to please Seokjin somewhat. He nods in affirmation and settles back on his chair, folding his hands together and giving Yoongi a pleased smile.

“An admirable goal,” Seokjin says placidly. “Much better than ‘beat my record of eating 50 Swedish meatballs in one sitting’.” He shoots a pointed glare at Jungkook. Jungkook pretends not to notice. 

“Sir,” Yoongi’s other coworker, Kim Taehyung, pipes up. “Just letting you know that I personally have memorized 487 out of the 500 product names.” Taehyung shoots Seokjin an angelic smile and this time, Yoongi physically cannot stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

Taehyung is one of those rare workers who genuinely sets himself long term Ikea employee goals. He uses his Staff Discount to full capacity every single month, and he is studying Swedish at some obscure weekend academy out in the countryside. Needless to say, Taehyung has been Employee of the Month for the last fourteen months straight, and he won’t shut up about it. 

“See,” Seokjin says, clapping his hands together. “That is what I call initiative. Well done Taehyung! A gallant effort.”

Taehyung’s beam widens. “You could say sir... that it’s a gälant effort.” He points at the catalogue on Seokjin’s desk, glossy pages featuring the new in store gälant shelving system. Seokjin bursts into laughter, he sounds like a donkey breaching before childbirth and Yoongi wonders how his life has gotten to this.

Yoongi has been working at Ikea for the last two years, Mondays to Fridays, 9AM-5PM. It’s not the world’s worst job in itself, in fact, he’s been here long enough to have a decent amount of authority amongst the team. Ikea is a stepping stone for him to squirrel away his money, waiting for the day he has enough to buy some recording equipment and put in proper effort into establishing a music career. Ikea actually pays pretty well and he gets a great superannuation. All bonuses surrounding the otherwise mildly depressing blue and yellow cesspool he finds himself in five out of seven days a week. I’m here for the pay, he tells himself, and the free meatballs.

Yoongi is so tired that it feels like he may collapse at any given moment. 

He really should go to bed earlier, it’s just that by the time it’s a decent hour to catch up on sleep, he’s distracted by all the various social media networking sites on his phone (he has an ironic Instagram account and a Reddit account, of course. And an AO3 account because he may or may not be totally hooked on this one particular series.) 

Yoongi stifles a yawn and looks around the shop floor. Seokjin has put him in the Bedframes and Bedding department this week, and looking around his empty surroundings, Yoongi decides today is a day of shuffling around and looking a lot busier than he actually is. That is an art that Yoongi has perfected.

As he strolls around the shop floor, he stops in place. Yoongi frowns to himself, squinting. His Ikea is always completely dead at 10AM in the morning, a peaceful retail ghost town before the mania that is the after school rush. It’s rare that there is even one browsing shopper at this time of the day, let alone... that.

Right there, sprawled out in the middle of the most expensive display bed in the store, is a person. 

Yoongi realizes as he investigates closer, said person is asleep. Asleep and burrowed under the covers no less. This blatant disregard for store property, as well as the complete and utter shameless method of napping probably should have caused a negative reaction from him. Annoyance, or irritation. Professional responsibility, perhaps. But instead, Yoongi just feels impressed. And envious.

He strolls up to the bed with his head tilted to once side, surveying your cocooned body. Your hands are tucked neatly underneath your cheek, your hair fanned out on the pillow. Your mouth is slightly parted, and there is drool on the $50.00 display pillow.

“Hey.” Yoongi mutters gruffly. You don’t react. He reaches out and tentatively pokes your cheek, as he does so, your eyes flutter open. They’re bleary with sleep but still disarmingly expressive, and you shoot him a look that reminds Yoongi of an injured kitten.

“What d’you want?”

You frown, a tiny, pouty expression, before you close your eyes again. Yoongi blinks, wondering how it’s possible for somebody to fall back asleep so damn fast. You look so innocent, Yoongi muses, bending down to see your eyelashes fluttering slightly with each breath, face peaceful. He hesitates, and then reaches forward and gently prods your cheek.

“...You’re sleeping on the bed.”

“No fucking shit, Agent Benson.” You mutter irritably, and Yoongi’s mouth goes slackjawed, okay, not so innocent.

Yoongi watches you warily. “Are you homeless?” He asks flatly. “I can take you to a shelter, if you want.”

“No,” You sit up now, stretching out, your mouth opening impossibly wide into a large yawn. Your hair is mussed up, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “I’m not homeless. But I am awake. And tired. Thanks a lot.” You huff out the last few words and for a moment, Yoongi has no idea how to react.

“I’m… sorry?”

You sniff, and your shoulders drop up and down in a stubborn shrug.

“S’okay.”

You’re still sitting on the bed and the two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

“So why are you er… sleeping on the oppland here?”

You wrinkle your nose ever so slightly. “Oppland?”

Yoongi nods, pointing to the tiny display sign hanging beside your head. “It’s what you’re lying on.”

“Oh.” You blink owlishly at that information and shrug. “I live just down the road. My next door neighbour is doing renovations,” You explain, “And I work in hospitality so I pretty much only work evenings. It’s so fucking loud all morning … and I need at least eight hours sleep. I need eight hours to survive. It’s a scientific fact.”

You’re saying all of this earnestly, and Yoongi suddenly has the stray thought that you are cute, voice thickened with drowsiness. You spring out of the bed and start to make it, tucking in the covers and fluffing the pillow, all while chatting away. 

“Anyway, I had a pretty good nap. The oppland is comfy! So thanks.”

Yoongi just stares at you and clears his throat.

“Uh... you have...” He wipes inconspicuously at the corner of his right eye, and unbothered, you swipe at your eyes.

“Oh, sleep seeds?”

He blinks. “Did you just call eye crust... sleep seeds?”

“Uh huh.”

Yoongi is completely lost for words. Your hair is like a birds nest at the back, you’re still blinking slowly, letting out intermittent yawns. He doesn’t know anything about you except that you work evenings, there is construction next door to your house, and you call eye crust sleep seeds. Yet somehow that’s enough information to warrant the next words that come tumbling out of his mouth.

“If you want,” He begins, and you look up at him curiously. “You can uh, sleep here. Before 12pm. We don’t usually get customers and it’s just me and another guy on this floor. You can sleep. If you want.”

Yoongi has no idea why he’s saying this, why he’s offering to rent out the fucking display bed like he’s some kind of furniture pimp. This is very out of character for him. He is the kind of employee who doesn’t even like going out the back to grab an item for a customer, let alone offer to let customers have nap time during his shifts. 

You stare at him, a surprised look on your face.

“Seriously? You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything?”

Yoongi avoids that question because the answer is a hard yes and his suggestion breaks at least fifteen rules in the Ikea Employee handbook. 

He reasons to himself that hey, he’s already broken most of the rules in that damn Handbook anyway (including no public nudity at the workplace. That was the result of a lost bet with Jungkook and a very embarrassing nudie run.)

Yoongi shrugs. 

You narrow your eyes, staring closely at him as if to try and work out if he’s serious. Yoongi must pass whatever test you’re giving him because your face relaxes into a smile and you shrug back, a cute little shrug of your shoulders that introduces a small wriggling itch in Yoongi’s belly.

“That would be really nice,” You admit. “If you’re sure it’s okay.” You punctuate your words with a smile.

“Yeah I’m sure,” Yoongi babbles out, and your smile gets even bigger and Yoongi is transfixed. You have a very expressive face, and he can’t help but wonder what else it would be expressive in… Yoongi shakes his head and tries to get that thought out of his head. He’s merely a professional trying to help a fellow sleep deprived citizen. No other reason. Nothing to do with the fact that you have doe eyes and a face that gives every single emotion away. Nothing to do with the fact that he, a man who finds nothing cute, finds you cute. You, standing in front of him, still rubbing your eyes and trying to stifle a yawn and causing Yoongi’s stomach to do an entire Olympics gymnastics routine. That has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. 

“Okay,” You singsong, stretching out your hand. Yoongi doesn’t have the biggest hands in the world, but you however have hands that slot into his nicely. He tries his hardest not to think about your body parts and his and slotting. He fails.

“I really appreciate it. I’m Y/N by the way.” 

“Min Yoongi.”

Monday through to Friday that week, at precisely 9AM on the dot, you arrive at the Bedframes and Bedding floor in Ikea and you nap.

Yoongi has worked out a system. He’s told the new staff member Park Jimin to stay in the pillows and manchester section, and that he, the senior staff member, will man bedframes. 

The entire week has seen to smooth sailing, bar for a few confused customers who stroll past your sleeping figure, nestled in the oppland. Yoongi tells them when they enquire that you are a paid model giving a live demonstration of ‘how to use the oppland. He’s bullshitting out of his ass, but somehow it works and the oppland sales spike by 30% that week. 

You sleep from 9AM-12PM, and then you linger while Yoongi works. The two of you chat about lighthearted things, bickering back and forth. On Wednesday you exchange phone numbers and carry on your conversations late at night when he’s up flicking through Youtube and AO3 and you’re wrapping up a shift at work. 

During the second week, Yoongi learns more about you. You talk to him about your chlldhood best friend, chattering on and on with tidbits about her and about your life, and Yoongi laps them all up like he’s reading the most exciting novella in the world. In return, he tells you stories that he’s gathered from two years of working at Ikea, from the time that Jungkook tried to slide down the Kiddie slide in the Children’s Play Area and got stuck so badly the fire squad had to come and cut him out, to the time that Taehyung dressed up as an actual Ikea blue plastic shopping bag on Halloween.

Your naps run shorter because you start well, just talking to him. You talk about your family, and he talks about his parents and his brother’s dog Holly, even digging in his pocket to show you a photo. You lean in close as you squint at the screen and coo, and Yoongi’s heart starts ricocheting in his ribcage when you step closer to him. 

On the Friday of the second week, right before you leave, you look at him with a playful smile and a quirk of eyebrows, and you tell him that you think he’s cute. Yoongi feels ten thousand emotions all at once, he’s frozen in place and opening and closing his mouth uncertainly. Before he can muster up a response, you leave. And with that Yoongi realizes that he has formed the world’s biggest crush on you, and he has no idea what to do about it.

“What does it mean if a girl calls you cute?”

Yoongi asks the question as innocently as possible, and immediately regrets it as soon as Jungkook’s head snaps up.

“It means she wants to give you the suc-”

Yoongi kicks Jungkook’s shin from under the table and Jungkook grins, unfazed.

“Forget it,” Yoongi grumbles, glowering at the younger man. Jungkook just leans forward, putting his chin in his hands eagerly.

“Seriously though? A girl called you cute? Bitch where?” He is unable to hide the disbelief straining his voice as he looks Yoongi up and down critically. Yoongi scowls.

“When did you meet a girl anyway? You’re always here.” Jungkook continues on, ignoring the dark look on Yoongi’s face. “And don’t try and pretend that you have a social life because I know for a fact that all you do on your days off is read that Namjoon’s guy’s fanfics.” 

Yoongi frowns. “I take offence to the fact that you’re insinuating I have no life other than this hellhole and the world of fanfiction.”

Jungkook looks up from his plate of meatballs with an innocent smile.

“Am I wrong though?”

Yoongi grumbles to himself in response.

Jungkook grins, picking up a meatball with his bare fingers and practically inhaling it in one gulp. “So,” He begins, “How did you meet her then?”

Yoongi hesitates, debating in his mind what exactly to tell his friend.

“I may or may not have met her here.”

Jungkook’s eyes practically bulge out of his head and he claps his hands down on the table, his words spilling out in succession.

“What? How? Is it a milf? is she hot? Dude, tell me everyth-”

“No, she’s not a milf, Jesus fucking Christ Jungkook-”

“So how did you meet her? Is she a customer?”

Yoongi lets out a defeated sigh.

“I found her sleeping on one of the beds on one of my shifts, and I dunno. We just started talking. She comes here and naps sometimes on one of the display beds.”

A disappointed frown crosses Jungkook’s face.

“… Okay, that was the anticlimax of the century, but whatever.... what bed?”

“What?”

“What bed does she sleep on?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Seriously dude, how is that remotely relevant-”

“The Ikea bedframe a woman chooses says a lot about their personality.” Jungkook says somberly and Yoongi decides that Jungkook has definitely been spending too much time with Taehyung lately.

“The oppland.”

Jungkook looks up at that, a sly grin on his face.

“So let me get this straight, she comes to this Ikea and you let her sleep on top of the oppland?” 

Yoongi does not like the grin on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll rip your balls out with this fork.” Yoongi picks up the fork and waves it threateningly in Jungkook’s face, but the younger man just bats it away lazily. The disrespect! Yoongi misses the good old days when Jungkook cowered at all of Yoongi’s half-assed threats. Although, Yoongi thinks, looking down at the brown plastic fork in his hand, it’s not like he’s actually ever gone through with his threats of enacting penis-related violence to Jeon. Yet, anyway.

“I’ll bet she wants to sleep on top of your oppaland if y’anno what I’m sayin-”

Yoongi stabs Jungkook’s hand with the fork and Jungkook lets out a yelp, the fork clattering on the table. Jungkook whines for five seconds before he grabs the fork and uses it to spear another meatball, cramming it into his mouth. 

Yoongi watches in mild disgust.

“So like,” Jungkook starts. “Do you like her?”

Yoongi’s face goes bright red and he mumbles something about taking the fork and shoving it down Jungkook’s esophagus. Jungkook just grins, completely unbothered as per usual.

“You are so whipped man.” Jungkook crows and Yoongi shoots him a menacing glare.

“Shut up. I swear to God I am going to murder you.”

Jungkook just laughs louder, and Yoongi groans, dropping his face into his hands because Jungkook is right. He is one hundred perecent, no doubts in mind, whipped.

On Monday, Yoongi walks onto the Bedding floor to find that the oppland is no longer there.

He stares at the empty space blankly for a few seconds before he whirls around, looking for Jimin. He finds Jimin actually assisting a customer, smiling sweetly and engaging in chit chat. He’s so new and hopeful, Yoongi thinks dismissively. He taps his foot impatiently as he watches Jimin hold up a pillow and pass it to the customer with an angelic smile.

“Hey. You. New kid.” He barks out, and Jimin glances up. “Where’s the oppland?”

Jimin frowns, his pert nose wrinkling. “Oh, the bed?” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “No, the fucking yellow unicorn. Obviously the bed, what else do you think I’m talking about?”

“Oh! Visual Merchandising team put it back in storage. Why?”

Yoongi is already walking away, and he hears Jimin pipe up a “Talk later hyung!” behind him. Yoongi spots you standing by the empty display, and he hurries over.

“Hey,” He murmurs, and you glance up, giving him a little smile. He feels a flutter in chest and tries his hardest to suppress it. “Oppland’s gone.” You comment, a frown marring your features as you turn to look speculatively at the nearest display bed. “Should I try the bittergurka instead?” 

Yoongi smiles. “I have a better idea.”

“Whoa,” You breathe out, gazing around. The storage warehouse is huge, large cardboard boxes stacked on chrome shelves. The warehouse is also empty on Tuesday mornings and at this current moment, locked. Thank God for staff privileges.

Yoongi spots the oppland tucked behind some of the taller shelving units, and you walk to it together. He watches as you immediately clamber onto the bed, lying on your back.

“Here,” You say, patting the mattress. “Lie down with me for a sec.”

Yoongi lets out a groan, but there is no hesitation on his face as he sprawls out beside you. You’re both lying side by side, staring up at the tall shuttered ceiling.

“It’s really comfortable,” He admits, and you turn to face him. The movement has something falling out of your pocket, landing with a clatter on to the floor. You let out a little squeak and hop off of the bed, bending down to grab the item that had fallen, your phone. 

“Got it,” You breathe, popping up from where you had been crouched beside the bed. 

Your head is at pretty much exactly at level with his dick. Yep, it’s right there. Now that he’s got his dick in his mind, he’s imagining various scenarios involving you and his dick. He is having all kinds of thoughts, varying in different degrees of filth, and he swallows thickly.

“What’s with you?” You giggle, before you lie back down beside him. The angle of which you lower yourself onto the bed is pornographic, Yoongi decides – the small of your waist curving as you settle in comfortably, the upwards tilt of your hips as you smooth the covers beneath your back. And God, oh God your shirt is lifting and Yoongi’s eyes fall greedily on the tiniest slip of bare skin. 

Yoongi has seen naked women countless times (moreso on a computer screen rather than in real life, but hey, naked bodies are naked bodies). But none have ever turned him on like this. 

He never thought the two centimeters of skin from a waistband to a shirt hem could make him semi-hard. 

Yoongi’s eyes are travelling over before he can quite stop himself and yep, there are your asscheeks, sinking into the mattress. His mouth goes dry.

You glance over at him with an amused quirk of your lips and Yoongi awkwardly drags his eyes upwards and they land on your collarbones and your chest... Bad idea, he internally barks to himself, tearing his eyes away as his eyes land on your face.

Game fucking over, because you’re staring at him with that look. Yoongi loves that look. Your eyes are warm and soft and creased in the corners, and you’re doing that thing where you bite down on your bottom lip to try and stop yourself from laughing. He loves this look, because it’s a look that you get when you think he’s being funny. And no one ever thinks he’s funny but for some reason you do, and he really God damn likes it.

“Are you okay? You look so weird right now,” You whisper softly, and Yoongi just swallows and stares. He has never been this close to you before, and it’s sensory overload. You smell good, for starters- like fresh laundry and perfume.

You look good this close too. He decides right then and there that he likes everything about your face. He likes your eyelashes, blinking rapidly and uncertainly at him, he likes the little pimple on your right cheek. He likes your eyes, and he likes your lips. He swallows. Yep, he definitely likes your lips.

Yoongi realizes then that he is one hundred percent hard. And before he can stop himself, his knee-jerk reaction kicks in, and he glances down at his dick. Yep, hard as expected.

The only problem is that your eyes follow his curiously, and they too, land on his cock.

The worst part of it all is that Yoongi’s cock, that betraying piece of shit, doesn’t even try to camoflauge itself to you. Like it’s finally receiving its moment of glory, it’s time to shine, his dick gets harder somehow. And then it fucking twitches. 

Yoongi decides immediately that if a freak accident occurs and one of the humongous boxes on the shelves surrounding them falls and crushes his body into oblivion, he’d be okay with that. Because you’re still staring straight at his erection and the little laugh you had playing on your lips is gone.

“Are you… is that …” You stammer out and Yoongi groans.

“Sorry. Sorry, I ah, yeah, sorry,” He mutters, and you look up and meet his embarrassed gaze, your eyes full of confusion.

“… Are you hard over me, or is there something else here that’s causing this?” You ask, your tone stunned.

He considers his options quickly. One: he can lie. That option is, in all honesty, the most immediately appealing one. Maybe he can say that he has a medical condition that causes him to get one raging boner at random every day. Or that he has a warehouse fetish. Or, that he has a prosthetic dick and it getting hard is something that happens when he lies down on foreign surfaces, with no connection to actual arousal whatsoever. 

But something stops him - he tells himself that it’s because he values honesty and truth, when it’s really the fact that he’s really fucking wishing, hoping and praying that being honest might result in an outcome that doesn’t involve his imminent death... and he decides fuck it. Honesty. He’s going to be honest. He’s going say something short and sweet, dripping with coolness. Something like, “Yeah, I want to fuck you, got a problem?”

“I’m hard because of you, you’re hot as fuck and you don’t understand how many uncomfortable boners I’ve had because of you in the last two weeks, and in all honesty I want to fuck you senseless against every piece of Ikea furniture imaginable.”

Oh God. That had absolutely zero cool, what the fuck. Yoongi braces himself for it, he’s sure you’re going to say something that will crush his soul. He’s convinced you’re going to let him down easy. Or maybe you’ll start laughing.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to wriggle forward and grab his face in your tiny palms. He lets out a shocked sound as you practically squeeze his face in between your hands, and before he has time to think or react, you kiss him.

His brain freezes. 

You’re kissing him, and you’re kissing him hard and fast, and it takes him a second to register that this is happening, before he lets out a noise of surprise and starts kissing you back. 

There is no elegance in your kissing, because you’re both frantic and desperate and practically clawing at each other like crazed teenagers. Yoongi rolls on top of you, letting out a soft moan as he deepens the kiss. You sink into the pillow and he can taste you, his tongue intermingled with yours. Your hands are roaming up Yoongi’s back and underneath his shirt, and he feels like he might implode because there’s so much going on. 

You’re making tiny, excited moans into his mouth, your kisses only broken by you nipping on his bottom lip. The feeling of your teeth gripping his bottom lip causes him to emit a guttural moan, as he attacks you with a deeper, hungrier kiss. You smell good, and everything about you feels good. 

His hands are on your waist and slipping up your shirt, and your skin feels like velvet. His hands glide over your lower stomach and you let out this unbelievable moan- low and throaty and choked, and Yoongi feels his abdomen tense because how the hell can every noise coming out of your mouth sound so damn sexy?

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Yoongi groans out, pulling away from your lips to glide his fingers up your stomach to your breast. You suck in your breath at that and your eyes widen, and you start blinking rapidly as Yoongi teases his fingers around the curve of your breast. 

“Oh my God Yoongi,” You moan out, and Yoongi feels a dark, wicked heat start to pool inside his belly at hearing you moan out his name, at the way you’re making his own name sound like the dirtiest word in the entire Dictionary. 

Nothing sounds better in the world, he decides, as he circles closer and closer around your nipple with his fingers. Nothing.

“Yoongi, please baby. Please.” 

Okay, something.

He wants to reach down and kiss your neck, down the slope of your skin, but he’s mesmerized in your face. Your lips are parted and your eyes are fevered, and you’re blinking rapidly as you stare at him. 

“Yoongi please, please touch me,” You pant out, and your voice is throaty and husky with lust. Yoongi can’t help but groan, a growling sound that rips out of him. You’re a mess, he realizes, a messy, dirty fucking mess and it’s all because of him. He decides that he likes this very much, furthermore, his dick likes this very much and his balls are so tense that they’re beginning to ache.

He finally relents, his fingers latching around your hard nipple and teasing it in long, lazy strokes. He dives in and peppers hard kisses that are more like bites along the canvas of your neck. He starts at that dip in your collarbones, enjoying the taste of your skin on his lips and the tiny whimper you give out when he works his way upwards. He stops right underneath your ear, where your skin is soft and sensitive and the mere sensation of his breath against your skin has your body trembling beneath him. 

With his free hand, he squeezes your thigh, his fingers strong and full of intent, before he allows his his fingers to brush at the edge of your pussy. You let out an urgent whimper and Yoongi begins to rub the tip of this thumb hard and fast against your nipple. He keeps his hand locked firmly on the top of your thigh, using the crook of his pinky to rub his knuckle along your slit.

You are soaking wet. Like, underwear ruined, sopping wet and Yoongi was not expecting that. He is painfully aware of just how hard he is, so hard that his erection hurts, straining against the fabric... but all he can concentrate on now is the dampness of your underwear. 

He moans against your neck and latches an expanse of your skin with his lips, sucking hard and eliciting yet another dirty fucking moan from you. 

“Yoongi,” You grit out between clenched teeth. He decides right then and there that he loves the sound of you moaning out his name. He would make it his ringtone if he could, fuck. 

His hand slows from where it’s been teasing your nipple, and he pulls away from your neck. There is a small inky splotch mottled on your skin and he sits up. You look thoroughly dazed, your hair messy and your eyes wide as you blink up at him. Your chest heaving with labored breaths, your cheeks flushed with arousal, and Yoongi feels his dick start to throb.

Yoongi sits up and pulls the shirt off of his head, moving with a kind of speed of only a truly horny man. He slides off his pants, lying there in his black jocks. You catch on quickly, and you’re ripping the blouse off of your head, wriggling your skirt off, your breaths coming out in little pants. 

Yoongi feels like his eyes are going to boggle out of his head because you’re in your underwear, doing that thing where you tilt your hips up and wriggle, and you’re moaning out his name in time to each sway of your hips.

“You look so good, fuck,” You murmur out breathlessly, and you reach up and run your hands down his chest. He’s not built by any means, but Yoongi feels his ego start to swell in his chest from your words and the touch of your palm right there on his lower abdomen- torturously close to his hard cock.

You hook your hand around the back of his neck and pull him down on top of you. He gladly obliges, kissing your lips with a messy kind of desperation, as he reaches down and runs two his fingers along your slit, unable to resist any longer.

Yep, your underwear are completely soaked through and he feels like he might actually cum on the spot- especially when your back arches upwards and you tilt your hips, pushing your slit against his fingers, letting out a soft cry of want.

Yoongi stops kissing you as he pulls off your underwear, and then he begins to tease at the hood of your pussy.

You’re writhing underneath him and he takes a moment to stare at your body, bare naked and all spread out for him. Now that your underwear are off he can smell you, smell your juices in the air. He reaches down with one finger and swipes up your pussy from bottom to top.

The moment his finger touches you, his breath hisses in. You are so wet, and his finger glides effortlessly against your heat. You bite your lip and let out a choked moan- three seconds of relief and release before you want more than before. It’s like you’re climbing up a rollercoaster and waiting to plummet, each second that passes taking you higher and higher. You’re rocking your hips against his hand, pressing your pussy against him with so much hunger and urgency that Yoongi can see your thighs tremble.

“You’re so wet,” Yoongi grunts, he finds your clit, it’s swollen to touch and judging by the way you hiss in your breath it feels good. He taps against your swollen bud, hard, fast strokes that has your jaw clenching and your nails digging into the small of his back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You swear out, your eyes are wide and desperate and Yoongi smirks to himself as he reaches down with his other hand, pushing the entire length of his index finger inside of you. It slides in effortlessly against your wetness, and you’re tight around his finger. You let out a delicious groan, one that fills Yoongi’s body from head to toe with an even darker deeper heat. 

He slides in another finger and you groan. “God, I want it, I just want you inside of me,” You pant out and you tilt your hips and rock. Yoongi realizes that you’re actually fucking yourself against his fingers, the two that are inside of you and the other two pressed against your clit. 

“Holy shit you’re amazing,” Yoongi moans out, and then you reach down and latch your fingers around his wrist and pull his fingers out of you.

Yoongi barely has time to ask if everything is okay, because you’re yanking his underwear down and you are wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Yoongi decides that this is it. This is the moment that he wants to remember, because this is the moment with the dream girl he had fantasized about as a horny asolescent, this is the moment twenty five year old him has been fantasizing about for the last three weeks. This is the moment that he will commission an artist to recreate on canvas when he is a rich famous musician. Your fingers, wrapping around the base of his cock, and you staring at him, blinking slowly like a kitten. 

He opens his mouth to tell you that you are without a doubt the hottest damn woman in the whole world. The words are there on the tip of his tongue. But then you start to glide your hand up and down his shaft.

“Fuuuuuuck.” 

His rock hard cock stands up straight and tall, the head glistening from the precum leaking from his tip. Both of your hands are wrapped around it, pumping up and down his length.

“You have a really nice dick,” You breathe out, and you lick your lips and Yoongi has dangerous images of you sucking on his cock, choking on all of him, blinking prettily and eyes full of tears.

Before he can indulge that thought too much, he tips his head back and lets out a choked groan. “I need…” Yoongi pants out, lifting his head to see you staring at him. “…To fuck you. Right now.”

He’s so uncomfortably hard and so full of tension, and he just wants to be balls deep inside of you. You smile to yourself and grab his cock again, twisting up with your hand and placing your palm flat against his tip. Yoongi hisses in for breath and before he can release it, along with a barrage of dirty swear words because he cannot think straight with the pressure of your palm down hard around his fucking frenulum… you lift up with your hips. 

The tip of his cock is brushing against your slit and his entire body starts humming with a want so intense that it feels like it’s a flame, licking at his insides from inside out.

“God I want to fuck you so badly.” Yoongi growls, his voice is raspy and his blood is racing through his veins, and finally, finally, you lower your body and he’s inside of you.

You are so wet that you ease down on top of him, and all of him is buried deep inside of you. You tip your head back and let out a long, breathy moan because he feels so damn good filling you up, stretching you out, and it’s like the most gratifying release ever to finally have him inside of you.

Yoongi on the other hand is pretty sure he can see stars and the moon because you are so wet and so tight, and when he opens his eyes you’re moaning and you’re naked, sitting down on his cock.

“Yoongi,” You pant out, “Holy shit.” 

It’s full, so full, just an intense and overwhelming fullness, and it takes a moment for the two of you to bask in it and adjust.

And then you start to rock your hips.

You arch your lower back so that with each sway of your body, Yoongi’s cock is there- buried so deep inside of you that it aches. 

“I can feel,” You moan out, “All of you inside of me and it feels so good…” Your voice pitches upwards in want, and you place a palm on Yoongi’s stomach to steady yourself. Yoongi just lets out a choked sound, because you are on top of him, riding him like a damn professional and he’s so riled up that he can feel the orgasm already starting to ebb in his toes.

“Come here,” He mutters, and he flips you over so that you’re on your back with a breathless gasp. He slams his hips hard against you, his hips rutting against yours, and you let out a sharp moan. He pumps into you again, enjoying the sounds of your cries catching in your throat and the way you wriggle your core under his cock.

He reaches up, about to run his hands in your hair, when you let in a sharp intake of breath.

He pauses, his fingers hovering near your neck. 

“Yoongi…” You moan out his name, humming it out so intently, your eyes staring up at him. “I want you to...” Your voice trails off and he swallows hard, wrapping his fingers around the base of your throat.

You let out a thick sound of delight at feeling the heaviness of his hand gently around your throat. “Fuck,” You groan. “Fuck!” 

Yoongi is still fucking into you, each thrust is hard and he grinds his dick up inside against your walls, ensuring every single centimeter of him is buried deep in your pussy. 

“It feels good, oh my god it feels so good…” you cry out, and Yoongi looks down. Your eyes are wild with it, his hand around your throat, your hair messy and fanned over the pillow. 

“Harder,” You moan, and Yoongi squeezes your neck gently and you let out a choked cry as Yoongi thrusts hard into you, tilting his hips up. He is so full of arousal, seeing your parted lips and the pant of your breath, the squirm of your body under his, the expressive face of yours showing every single shade of pleasure imaginable. He tilts his hips, grinding into you from a different angle.

His cock hits your spot, Yoongi can tell from the vibrations of your moans under his palm and the way your eyes roll back into your head. "Yes!” You cry out, and Yoongi feels your walls tighten around him as you cum, waves of pleasure washing over your face. 

He relaxes his hold and flutters his palm up to cup your cheeks, watching the orgasm play out on your features. Your eyes flutter closed and strain as they roll under your closed eyelids, your mouth parted as mewls and moans and utterances of his name come forth, and your entire body is stiff and tense before it practically crumples beneath him, shivering with pleasure. 

He can see all of it written on your lips and your eyes – the release, the crescendo and wave of pleasure and relief and fullness, and Yoongi decides it’s a sight he wants to see over and over again.

“Oh my God, I came so hard,” You pant out, your voice is husky and blissed out, and your eyes flutter open. You look completely fucked out, and you smile and Yoongi feels a shiver of heat through his spine. 

I think I might be falling in love you, Yoongi thinks, a wild thought that slips through the cracks along with the realization that… “I’m gonna cum soon,” He pants out, his body stiffening.

“Cum on my face baby,” You murmur, and he glances at your face, you’re biting your lip and giving him that same smile. You still look blissed out from your high and he hesitates.

“Are you…”

“I want you all over me.”

He doesn’t question it, he pulls himself out of your pussy and his hands are wrapping around his own cock, as you wriggle down so that your pretty face is underneath him. He stares at you- your eyes staring straight up him, the hint of a smile dancing on your lips, your cheeks pink and flushed. You place your hands on his thighs and bite your bottom lip. “I want your cum all over my face, baby.” 

Holy shit. That is a mental image he is going to have on replay for the rest of his life.

With a few deft strokes he knows he’s going to cum, and he lets out a choked moan as he releases. Ropes of seed shot out of him and all over you. His hand continues to work on himself, but he can barely concentrate on what he’s doing, his voice stuttering and his body tightening. His orgasm is so intense, like sparks of white hot pleasure over every inch of his body. His eyes are focused on you- your cheeks and mouth painted in lashings of his milky white cum. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at him, reaching out with an index finger to swipe some of his cum off of your cheek, placing it in between your full lips and sucking it clean. He feels so damn full, full of a knotted, fierce, crimson red lust at the sight of you. He’s never been higher in his whole life. 

Yoongi reaches to the side of your head and grabs one of the pillows, hurriedly ripping out the inside. Using the pillow cover, he carefully wipes his cum off of your face, feeling something swell in his chest as he does so. 

He tosses the pillow cover to the floor – he’ll deal with that later – and focuses all of his attention on you. You smile up at him, a smile so radiant that he feels like he’s going to melt into the floor.

“Thank you,” You say, and you smirk faintly. “For you know. That.”

“Thank you,” He mumbles, collapsing beside you. The two of you lie there, your chests rising and falling with each heavy breath. 

Yoongi, before he can stop himself, snakes out and tucks his arm underneath your neck. You wriggle in and he pulls you into the crook of his arm. Your body is right there, tucked into his, and he suddenly feels full. His whole body is full, humming with the release of a great orgasm, and his chest is full- brimming with a warm, glowing kind of heat. 

He can feel your breaths coming out against his skin, your hair tickling his chin, your arm wrapped lazily around his waist. 

He’s pretty sure that this right here is the best feeling in the world.

“I feel like,” You whisper, and Yoongi cranes his head down to look at you. Your face has a light sheen of sweat, tiny smudges of mascara under your eyes and he’s giddy and his heart hurts.

“I feel like we should high five or something.” You shoot him a tiny grin and he smiles back, weakening around you.

“I’m comfy though.” He says instead, because he has you lying down on one of his arms and the other hand is rested comfortably on your hip.

“True,” You agree, and your eyes soften as you smile at him.

He leans over just a fraction and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. When he pulls back you’re looking at him with a surprised expression on your face.

“Nose high five,” He says simply, and he feels a flare of embarrassment that he really just did that. What exactly is it about you that turns him into the kind of guy who rubs noses with a girl? Let alone the kind of guy to cuddle after sex? Still, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because his chest is overflowing and he suddenly has the urge to talk.

“Hey,” He begins, but you’re not looking at him. You’re looking at something behind him, your nose wrinkled slightly.

“Er…” You interrupt. “Is that… a security camera?”

“Nah, there aren’t any in the warehouse-”

“Yoongi. Look. I swear to God that’s a security camera.”

Yoongi lets out a small sigh and turns his head lazily. “I don’t see-”

And then he spots it. It’s the same type of camera that they use throughout the entire store. 

Small black security cameras that run a 24 hour loop feed through to the store manager. 

Seokjin.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Min Yoongi. I must say. Initially, I was disappointed.” Seokjin is staring at Yoongi with a disapproving expression, his arms folded over his chest. 

“To think that you would indulge in pleasures of the flesh at your place of work.”

Yoongi cringes. This isn’t exactly how he wanted to end his career at Ikea, but hey, what happens happens. He begins to stand. “I’ll pack my things-”

“I’m not firing you.” Seokjin interrupts gravely. 

Yoongi freezes, halfway to getting up from his seat.

“I’m... not... fired?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “No. You are not. I see that you’re acting up. I understand why. We, your employers, didn’t value your hard work enough.”

Yoongi is shocked. Acting up? Hard work? 

He had burst into Seokjin’s office five minutes ago, clothes still haphazard, only to see Seokjin staring at the security screens with a bewildered look on his face, his neatly packed lunch sitting forgotten in front of him. 

Yoongi eyes had gone from the lunch to the screen, where his pixelated bare ass was, right there, in the centre of the oppland bed.

“My… hard work?” Yoongi repeats slowly, not quite sure he’s understanding what he’s hearing. 

Seokjin just nods. “I’ll have to file this to HR of course. It’ll go on your employee record. But as your manager, how we handle situations like these are at my discretion. And well, I can understand why what happened, happened.” 

Yoongi’s jaw drops.

“… And like I said. You are valued, Yoongi. In fact,” Seokjin stands up and walks over to the Employee of the Month pinboard. “I think it’s time we showed that appreciation officially.”

Yoongi’s eyes boggle out of his head as Seokjin takes down the photo of Taehyung beaming at the camera and replaces it with his deadpan staff photo.

“I…” Yoongi’s voice trails off in disbelief and Seokjin turns, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Yoongi. On behalf of myself and the rest of the team here at Ikea. I just want to say. We appreciate you.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin, then at the pin board with his stoic face under the Employee of the Month! sign.

“Plus, I have to say. You’re not the only one who has used that warehouse for… personal means. I may or may not be the reason why Head Office insisted on installing security cameras to stop such dalliances from occurring.” Seokjin says calmly, a serene smile on his face.

This, he thinks to himself as he accepts Seokjin’s outstretched hand dazedly, is probably the weirdest day of my life.

After filling out the necessary paperwork and sending them off to HR (all while trying to get the image of his boss entertaining his lady friends in the work warehouse out of his brain), Yoongi is finally out of Seokjin’s office. 

Despite somehow receiving the title of employee of the month, he’s still going to be facing some repercussions – the main one being that he now has to work the rest of this month in the Electrical department and not Bedding. (Electrical is the worst department to work in, because customers come back to complain all the time about missing the small print that says ‘batteries not included.’ Hello, it’s called fine print.) Any other day and Yoongi would be bitter about the department change, but every time his mind flashes back to you, tucked in his arms, it feels worth it.. 

Yoongi pulls his phone out of his pocket and fires off a message.

MYG: You still around?

Y/N: yeah… did everything go okay?

MYG: weirdly, yes. Meet me in electrical. bedding has been compromised

He makes his way to the third floor, electrical, and lets out a small sigh. 

Suddenly feeling nervous, he wonders what he’s going to say to you when you arrive. Ever since the mid-sex epiphany that he might just be madly falling in love with you, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

He frowns, leaning against a display table that is featuring a row of table lamps. He’s running through different ideas and scenarios in his head of what exactly to say, when he hears someone clear his throat behind him. It’s a customer, an older man holding two small lamps in each hand.

“Excuse me, I was wondering what-”

Yoongi spots you coming up from the escalator and stops paying attention to the other man entirely (something about needing ‘ambient lighting’). 

“No.” Yoongi barks out bluntly, turning and marching to you.

“Hey,” He says smoothly, once he reaches you and you stare at him. 

“..Was that a customer? He looks upset.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be fine. Lamp issues, you know. No big deal.”

Yoongi realizes that he’s nervous. So nervous that he has a lump in his throat and his palms are sweaty.

“Um… don’t you think you should help him-”

“No need. I’m employee of the month.”

“You’re employee of the month? You?! How?”

Yoongi just shrugs.

“Okay, I want to hear about how that happened later... I just have to get to work and I… wanted to talk to you about us, I guess.”

“Oh?” Yoongi asks, his voice sounding high pitched and strained even to his own ears. “Yeah that sounds good, my thoughts exactly.” 

You nod, relief crossing your features. “Good.”

Yoongi pauses. He narrows his eyes on you, wondering what you mean by good. Good as in, I have feelings for you and I want to sleep with you again good, or good as in, I hate you and that was the worst lay of my life?

Yoongi starts to panic. He has no idea what to say or what to do, and it occurs to him that he never, in his many years of being in the dating scene, and his even more many years of being alive, dealt with this level of nerves. He’s overthinking everything and his palms are sweaty.

Min Yoongi does not get sweaty palms. Min Yoongi does not overthink.

“Er… why are you looking at me like that?” 

You’re staring at him with a confused expression on your face and Yoongi panics.

“Ican’t talkrightnowIhavetogotoworksorry.” He blurts out hastily and your confusion is quickly replaced with suspicion.

“Work? You never work.”

“I’ll have you know that I do indeed-”

“Last week you told me you had a competition with your coworker to see who could eat the most meatballs in one minute.”

“Yeah well-” Yoongi sputters. “That was work. Occupational health and safety um, checks.”  

You’re frowning at him and Yoongi realizes he’s dug himself into a hole but it’s not like he can get himself out of it now.

“Are you sure it’s not just because you’re freaking out that I mentioned the word ‘us’?” You ask calmly and Yoongi lets out a weird noise that sounds like the mix of an of exaggerated ‘no’ and a gurgle. His face is bright red because one, you got the nail on the head, he is freaking out, and two, the sound he had just made was really freaking embarrassing.

“Yoongi? Can we talk about it without you being weird?” You sigh, your voice quietning, and Yoongi does the first thing that comes into his mind.

He reaches up, grabbing the first thing his fingers find on the shelf - the sensuëll pot, highly ironic given the situation. Your eyes widen in confusion when you see him clutching the giant pot, and before you can say anything, Yoongi turns and runs down the escalator. 

It isn’t until he’s on level 2, Appliances, that he realizes he is an idiot and races back up to the third floor only to find it devoid of anyone, spare for that one guy still deliberating between two table lamps. 

“I’m an idiot,” He moans, putting the sensuëll back in place and glaring at it. 

I definitely will not do that tomorrow. Definitely. Probably.

Except you don’t come into the store tomorrow. You don’t show up, Yoongi texts you four times in an attempt to be casual, cool and collected.

MYG: hey are you coming today?

MYG:  “**** COMING BY. not the other kind of coming

MYG: no biggie if you’re not. coming by that is

MYG: *sunglasses guy emoji*

Two hours later, no reply, and Yoongi can’t stop rereading his messages and cringing.

He’s still staring miserably at his phone when he drags his body into the cafeteria. He spots Jungkook and Jimin sitting at a table with a humongous platter of meatballs in front of them, and he lowers himself onto the table with a melodramatic sigh.

“HÅLLÖ Yoongi hyung!” Jimin chirps, holding up the Hällö mug with a huge smile. Yoongi gives him his most menacing glare but Jimin, just like Jungkook, is completely unaffected. 

Yoongi drops his head in his hands, lamenting the fact that he is not only completely uncool and has terrible emoji judgment, but he is losing his power and authority in his place of work. Also, that aforementioned place of work is Ikea. Ikea. Where he is Employee of the Month.

“I hate my life.” Yoongi groans aloud.

“What’s with you?” Jungkook glances up.

“My entire life fucking sucks.” Yoongi says flatly.

“Oh,” Jungkook nods in understanding. “The girl you’re into doesn’t wanna hop on the dick and give it a suck?” 

Yoongi doesn’t even have the energy to threaten Jungkook. However, Jimin does it for him, whacking him on the arm. 

“Gross. Yoongi hyung, ignore him. What happened?”

Yoongi wonders idly how Jimin knows who he and Jungkook are talking about, but he doesn’t have the energy to ream Jungkook for having the inability to keep a secret. To be honest, his boss has seen his bare ass. Yoongi doesn’t really care about privacy anymore.

“I think I messed things up yesterday.” Yoongi sighs. “And I dunno what to do. If anyone has any ideas for once, that would be great.”

The three men sit and stare at the table, deep in thought.

“I’ve got an idea,” Jungkook pipes up, and Yoongi focuses his attention on the younger man.

“Why don’t you tell her you wanna give her the suc-”

“I’m going to murder you with Jimin’s Hällö mug so help me God.” 

“Why don’t you just do something big? Like a big romantic gesture?” Jimin intervenes delicately. “In all the movies they always do stuff like that.”

Yoongi stops mid Hällö mug grabbing, a contemplative expression on his face.

“A big romantic gesture?” He repeats thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea actually.” He eyes Jimin, thinking that Jimin just might be alright, and that maybe, just maybe, Jimin can join his ‘We Hate Working At Ikea but we Need Money’ squad with Jungkook.

Jimin beams and holds up his plate, revealing the bottom where the product name is printed. “Täck you, Yoongi Hyung.”

On second thoughts, maybe not.

“Just so you know,” Jungkook huffs. “I actually hate you.”

Yoongi’s shoulders are so cramped and aching that they’re close to spasming with pain. 

“Don’t talk,” He manages to grit out. “Conserve your energy.”

His arms quiver under the weight that he’s carrying, his face shiny and bright red like a tomato. Jungkook just shoots him a look of mild disbelief.

“Hyung, it’s really not that heavy.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply, because he’s pretty sure that if he tries to speak, he might collapse. 

“I don’t get it,” Jungkook whines. “What has this got to do with a big romantic gesture? Why couldn’t you have just, I dunno, gotten her some flowers or some shit?” Yoongi drags his head up a fraction to shoot Jungkook a withering glare. However, it does not have it’s desired effect, likely due to the fact that Yoongi is bright red and sweaty.

“I really don’t see how this is romantic. If anything, it’s completely inconvenient.” Jungkook continues, hoisting upwards with his arms. Yoongi grits his teeth, they’re on your street now, shuffling closer and closer to your house. Jungkook is taking the lead, looking bored and unbothered by the weight he’s carrying.

“… Jimin said… it had to be… special,” Yoongi growls. He starts counting the steps towards your front door, thank God it’s close because he’s beginning to genuinely worry about his back. Every muscle hurts, including some muscles he didn’t even know he had.

“Yeah, Jimin said special, as in, fancy flowers or a nice piece of jewellery or something… not a fucking bed,” Jungkook snaps back. 

Yoongi ignores him, eyes trained on the house that’s about 20 or so metres away. Finally.

Buying the oppland had been a relatively easy process. He was able to use his staff discount, he had just enough savings to afford it. It had all seemed to be smooth sailing until delivery came into the equation.

Hypothetically yes, Yoongi could have paid $200 for their store delivery driver Hoseok to take it to your front door. But, he was reluctant. After all, you live right down the street and Hoseok is notoriously unpredictable with his deliveries, some taking weeks to arrive and garnering a bevvy of customer complaints, others arriving freakishly fast (within thirty minutes when the address was a fifty minute drive…. Everybody questioned the logistics of those deliveries but didn’t say anything because to be honest, their Ikea could use some glowing customer feedback emails for a change.) So, Yoongi decided, he would deliver it himself. It sounded like a great idea in theory… until Yoongi realized how damn heavy the oppland was.

They finally reach your doorstep, dragging the giant cardboard box and lowering it onto the ground with a soft thump. Yoongi takes the moment to lean against your front door, heaving for breath. He has never been more aware of his lungs in his entire life.

Jungkook is watching him with a frown, his arms crossed. 

“You really need to go to the gym, hyung-”

“Shut up,” Yoongi groans, clutching his chest and wincing. “I think I’m dying.”

Ten minutes later, Yoongi has recovered somewhat, and Jungkook has left the scene. Yoongi is still standing in front of the front door, sitting on the oppland box, trying to work up the nerve to ring the doorbell.

It is bizarre, the fact that he is so nervous. He doesn’t but get nervous, he just doesnt. It was something he always prided himself on, his inability to cry in movies (except for Marley and Me, because he’s not a monster), his uncanny skill to have a stone-cool face in even the most stressful of situations, and the fact that he is always in control of his emotions.

That is until you came into the picture,

He doesn’t know what it is about you that changes all of that about him. He has spent so much of his life stacking up the different aspects of his personality- perfecting his deadpan monotone delivery, imbuing sarcasm into 70% of his words, and in general being a quietly cynical asshole about most things. 

Yet when it comes to you, Yoongi becomes a mess. With you, he’s someone who blushes, he’s someone who makes strange noises at random. He’s someone who voluntarily buys expensive Ikea goods and instead of sticking it to the man, he’s supporting the man with money from his own pocket. 

“Oh my God,” Yoongi groans in realization. “I’m Taehyung.”

He’s working up to ringing your doorbell, bit by bit, and he tells himself that in exactly ten seconds he will stand up and he will press that button… when the door opens on its own accord.

You are standing there, your eyes widening like saucers when you see a still somewhat puffed out Yoongi sitting on a giant cardboard box, his head in his hands.

“…Yoongi?”

Yoongi scrambles to his feet, tripping over the box in the process.  Your eyes follow his movements and get even wider. 

“What are you… is that a bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that… is that an oppland in a box?”

“…Yeah.”

Yoongi watches as you stare at it, a baffled expression on your face, before you turn to meet his gaze. You’re dressed in pyjamas, flannel ones that have nearly all of the colour faded out of them, and an old concert tee. You have pillow creases in one cheek, and you’re mid-yawn. 

Yoongi decides that you have never looked better and yep it’s back, the flutteriness in his belly that he both loves and hates, and is terrified of, all at the same time.

“Why is there an oppland here?”

A slight pause hangs between the two of you as you both turn to look at the giant cardboard box, battered in one corner (thanks to Yoongi stumbling on the footpath and dropping his end of the bed onto his foot and then letting out a string of obscene swear words when Jungkook started to cackle with laughter). 

“Because…” Yoongi begins, and then he swallows. “Because apparently the right way to do this kind of thing is with a big gesture. So this is my big gesture.”

You blink.

“…This kind of thing?” You repeat, confusion colouring your voice.

Yoongi shrugs, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck.

“Er… yeah. You know. Apology … things.”

You fold your arms, tilting your head to the side. Your hair swings in the air and Yoongi is suddenly reminded of how good your hair smells. 

He has become the kind of person who thinks about how a girl’s hair smells and he wants to hate himself but he can’t, because he really wants to smell your hair and he doesn’t think that’s a crime.

“What are you apologizing for Yoongi?”

Yoongi hesitates. 

“Because yesterday I felt like I screwed things up with the whole running away from you thing, and you didn’t come by today. I dunno you usually do, and you didn’t reply to my messages and I was worried you were upset… ‘cos that’s kind of what I’m good at y’know, making people upset. And well, yeah. Gotanopplandforyou.” He prods the cardboard box with the toe of his sneaker, staring at it forlornly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you masking a laugh.

“I’m not upset. I just had an urgent work situation this morning. I was so tired after, I got home and crashed. That’s why I didn’t reply to your messages.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens. “Oh.”

The corners of your lips twitch. “I was actually on my way to go see you, actually.”

Yoongi raises his chin. “Dressed like that?” He nods at your flanellete pyjamas, accompanying his words with a tiny smirk to let you know that he’s joking. He thinks you look good, and also kind of weirdly hot. 

You smirk back. “Well, you’re dressed like that.” You point to his bright blue and yellow work Ikea polo tee and Yoongi frowns down at it.

“Touche.”

The two of you smile at one another. Yoongi clears his throat uncomfortably.

“I just thought you should know that um… I know I freaked out a bit yesterday but I can explain why.”

You cock your head at him, the smile growing on your lips.

“Oh?”

Yoongi nods. His heart is beating so hard in his chest that he can hear it, he can hear the blood drumming in his ears.

“So. Why?”

The question slips out of your lips and Yoongi stares. He swallows thickly.

“…I like you.” 

You smile, a big, radiant smile that has your eyes creasing in the corners and your nose scrunching up, and Yoongi feels his heart collapse in on itself and then swell three times larger than usual. 

“I know.”

His eyes widen. “You do?”

You laugh, a soft laugh that has Yoongi’s heart is dangerously close to falling down his ribcage and out of his ass. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

“Yeah, Yoongi. I know. You lugged a giant bed to my doorstep.”

You glance pointedly at the battered cardboard box sitting on your lawn. 

“…And just so you know. I like you too.”

Okay, now Yoongi’s heart is definitely going to plummet down out of his ass because those are the best four words he has ever heard in his entire fucking life. He stares at you and struggles to hide the smile on his face.

“You do?”

You blush, your cheeks tinging pink before you shrug. 

“Yeah. I mean, the next door renovations finished last week ago but I still keep coming to your Ikea to sleep. So yeah. I like you.”

This time, Yoongi can’t hide the smile and it melts over his face like butter. 

“…And just so you know, you’re kind of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, smiling at each other.

“You do know,” You begin, “That I have a bed already?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Don’t look a big romantic gesture in the mouth. Tell me, has a guy ever gotten you a bed before?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and giggle softly, shaking your head.

“Nope.”

Yoongi just closes his eyes and nods, emanating with the confidence of a man who has just heard the words ‘you are the best sex I’ve ever had’ from the girl who he’s crazy for. 

“So,” You begin. “Do you want to come in?”

You push on your front door and it swings open. Yoongi can see inside your house – the hallway, lined with a few haphazardly stacked bookshelves, potted plants hanging off of the walls. 

“Maybe we can build my new bed and test it out.” Your eyes are dancing and while that may very well be one of the best ideas Yoongi has ever heard, he hesitates.

“I want to, I really do but…” He turns and looks at the Oppland. “It was just really heavy…” 

He turns back to see you leaning in with a smirk on your face.

“We can do that later then. Like I said, I do already have a bed. We can test tht out…”

Yoongi swallows. “That may just be your best idea yet.”

A hum of want, and excitement rushes through his body, and he nods, following you inside your house. You shut the front door, and lean in, your body pressed up against his. Yoongi encircles his arms around the small of your waist, breathes you in and all thoughts that were previously going through his mind disappear the moment you press your lips against his. 

He kisses you softly, slowly- a lazy kiss because he’s tired and so are you, and your bodies fuse together. He breathes in, and he has never felt so comfortable in his entire life. 

When he pulls away, he leans in and brushes his nose against yours. You laugh quietly and Yoongi takes a moment to send a silent thank you to whatever deities are out there, and of course, the guy who invented Ikea. Whoever he is.

“I really like you,” He mumbles, pulling you in for another kiss because he still feels a bit petrified and vulnerable every time he says those words. Yet, he can’t seem to stop saying them and thinking them.

“You’re such a softie,” You giggle, kissing his lips and then his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “I really like you too. A lot.”

Yep, Yoongi thinks, watching as you lean back and laugh, before taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. I’m soft for you, I’m head over heels crazy for you. Sue me. 

He leans in and kisses you hard, your bodies entwined as you collapse on top of your bed. He kisses you, his fingers running through your hair and a tiny whimper slips out of your lips right before Yoongi chases that sound with a kiss.

And with that Yoongi decides that this is, without a doubt, one of the best days of his life.

→ Breakfast in Bed drabble

a/n: For once I wrote something without an inkling of angst! Just a whole bunch of ridiculousness & fluff instead! Note: all Ikea products referenced in this fic are real, including the oppland.  I had so much fun writing this. A huge thank you to the person who sent in the original request & to the people who voted for this request on the poll. I hope you enjoyed reading it! ♡

[jj-ktae]

Foreign

Title : Foreign

Pairing : Jinyoung x Foreigner Reader (no specific nationality/origins)

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Author : Myself

Summary : You’re supposed to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you’re a foreigner and you start freaking out, so your boyfriend comforts you.

Disclaimer : I described a reader that doesn’t stick to one type of person and I am by no mean implying that one type is better than the other. I’m merely evoking the issue regarding beauty in South Korea but it doesn’t reflect my own thinking. All words between quotation marks are not said by me but by a character. 

It’s a fictional scenario.

Red dress? Too fancy. Long skirt? Too Tacky. Jeans? Too casual.

You shook your hands in the air, throwing yet another piece of clothing and hating yourself for not being able to buy one single decent outfit for this important day. There was nothing worth being shown, and even less parade into in front of your boyfriend’s parents. You selected a pair of black pants and took a pale blue embroidered tunic, hoping it would have a girly effect on the people who were pictured as severe and merciless. You checked on your reflection in the mirror and sighed.

You looked like nothing they would love. Nothing at all.

Your big eyes showed more of your non-Korean side than the tiny bit of Asian blood your grandmother had injected into your genes. Your skin was what your friends back home called “pale” but here you were not and it was making you cringe, because you liked it usually, your boyfriend did, your friends did, but these people won’t, and you know it.

You were everything they didn’t wish for they son, or so you’ve heard.

You sat on the dressing table chair and looked at your makeup, quietly waiting for you to apply it on your face and you slapped it away, annoyed by your own looks.

“You’re not ready yet?” Your boyfriend’s voice was what made you finally let go, and the first tear fell, heavy and salted. He looked like he saw it because a minute later, he was behind you, and you looked at him through his reflection on the mirror.

“Look at me. Will I ever be ready?” You wiped a tear and he sighed.

“My parents will love you, stop worrying. And what if they don’t? Am I living with them?” He cooed, kissing the top of your head and you laughed, bitter.

“Please…don’t give me the ‘our love is stronger’ speech, Jinyoung.” You felt even more pathetic.

“I’m just trying to relax you, look at you, you’re so tensed.” His hands went to your shoulders and tried untying the painful knots, accumulated by a sleepless night and an incredible coffee intake.

“Of course I am tensed, I’m about to get bashed by your parents.” You wiped another tear, feeling yourself hyperventilating at the thought of being roasted alive by two old Korean traditional parents.

“First of all, my parents don’t bash. Second, there is no reason for them to hate you. They know me, and they would never disrespect somebody I love only because they don’t like them.” Jinyoung was being way too calm for the situation, you thought. He was usually relaxed, calm, logical.

Everything you weren’t. You were the definition of stress, in all its aspects.

“You know, they all say that in the movies, and they end up being dishonored and thrown to jail for non-respect of parents’ authority or I don’t know how you call this.” You said fast, the hint of a strong English accent suddenly reappearing because of stress.

Jinyoung laughed, wrinkles popping and teeth hidden behind a hand. “You should stop watching these weird dramas with the boys. Korean people don’t do this anymore, you know.”

“Well, they still need to approve of us or we’ll be in trouble.” You got up and paced around the room, trying to think of a way to avoid this meeting.

Your boyfriend was following you, amused by the situation “They will, of course they will. How can I be so laid back and you so stressed? Of anything, they are my parents, I should be worrying about the outcome.”

You laughed “You’re a fucking smart-ass, that’s why you’re always so laid back. Can you see me? Have you ever seen my face? It’s already a miracle that we’re dating.”

Jinyoung looked surprised “What do you mean, a miracle?” he was still walking behind you, even when you fastened your pace to wander the flat, stress boiling you from the inside.

“A miracle because nobody thought you’d date a non-Korean girl, let alone non-Asian at all. Everyone was shocked when you introduced me to them, don’t you remember? How is this going to be any different with your parents, the people who think about your future and all the bullshit about grandchildren and building a family? They might even think our kids will look like damn hybrids!” You stopped to look at him and found him laughing, like you were entertaining his ass.

“You’re panicking, take a deep breath and don’t call our non-existent kids hybrids.” He laughed again.

You shook your head “I’m serious, Jinyoung. This is not a joke. Please don’t laugh.” You took your bag on the table and sighed, hoping for the best “Since you don’t believe me, let’s go. The faster the better.” You said and he took your hand.

“I’m sorry, let’s talk. Come and sit down.” He sat on the couch and pulled on your hand, making you seat next to him.

“We’re going to be late.” You complained. This was too messy to handle, right now.

“I’d rather be late with you relaxed than on time with you tearing your hair off your head.” He stated and you rolled your eyes. Maybe you’d look better without hair.

“So, let me sum up. You’re stressed because you think my parents will hate you for being a foreigner. Why didn’t you tell me this was running through your mind?” He tried, both his hand over yours.

“Because I knew you’d tell me not to worry.” You whispered, feeling like a kid.

“Of course I would say that. My parents trust me, and they know I only do what I think is best for me.” Jinyoung put a hand on your chin, lifting your head to meet his watchful eyes.

“What if the best for them is a girl of the same origin?” You asked again, trying not to be hypnotised by the depth of his dark orbs.

“What does the best has to do with your country of origin?” He looked like he didn’t understand your point.

“You know what I mean! Please don’t act like I’m crazy.” It was frustrating, because you knew you were right. It was a common thing.

“I know you’re not crazy, I just want you to understand that I consider what’s best for me based on how it makes me feel. This has nothing to do with the way you look.” His hand cupped your face, slowly. “I am in love with you, in every way possible. You embody everything I need, in the good and worst moments. I am happy to share so many moments with you, and I want it to stay that way for as long as you’re willing to have me, because I’ll always have you. You don’t look like everyone else here, because you look like my girlfriend, and there is only one girl in my life. This is what makes you unique.”

You grimaced “unique, huh.”

“Yeah, are you judging my tastes now?” he teased and you shook your head.

“At least one of us thinks I’m not unfit in the picture.” You mumbled and he pinched your cheeks.

“Yeah whatever you say. In any case, stop thinking you’re not going to be accepted as my girlfriend for such a reason. I know it’s a stressful moment, but this is going to be okay. You’re a wonderful person, and I want you to start believing it. I’m far from being worth of your stress anyway.” He added.

Your shocked eyes met his “Stop it, you’re worth so much more! Most of the time, I don’t get your joke references. Once, I walked in with my shoes on, yesterday I spoke informally to my boss, I don’t like spicy food, and I can’t even act cute.” You listed, ashamed.

Jinyoung smiled “And I love you for it. There’s nothing wrong with adapting to a culture.”

“I’ve been here for 5 years!” You growled.

Jinyoung approached his body from yours “Listen to me. You’re doing a great job for someone who couldn’t speak a word of Korean. I fell in love with you because you were not like everyone else. I find it wonderful when you don’t understand what I say, it really makes me want to kiss your troubled face. You only walked in with your shoes on once, your boss is an old creepy man who looks at your butt so serves him right, I can eat the spicy stuff for you when you can’t handle it, and I don’t find cute stuff that attractive anyway.”

He continued when you only sighed in response. “My parents know I wouldn’t dare bringing a girl I’m not planning on staying with, so they will consider you as somebody I cherish, rather than some foreign girl. My mom knows a lot about you since I told her how amazing you were already, and my dad will honestly go with anything as long as you tell him he did a nice in renovating the house. They’re actually really soft, a loft softer than me so don’t worry. If you got me this easily, you’ll get them, too.” He brushed his nose with yours and wrapped his hands around you, like a shield.

“I really hope you’re right.” You lamented and he smiled against your face.

“I am always right, babe.” He breathed against your lips, before pecking them softly.

His kisses were always full of passion. They had this taste of sweetness and longing which he was always making sure you felt when he was close.

“Now, are you feeling better?” He asked and you shrugged, refusing to admit that he had succeeded in melting your heart once more, like every single time he was next to you.

“Kind of…promise you won’t leave me if they kick me out of the house.”

Jinyoung chuckled and acquiesced, getting up to grab his jacket after one last kiss on your perfectly shaped face.

“Even if the whole world was against you, I’d still hide you in my pocket to protect you.”

“You’re horribly corny, today.” You said, waiting for him to put on his jacket.

“And you better enjoy it. Now let’s go, my sweet panicked darling.” He tapped your butt gently and you squeaked, feeling like the luckiest foreign person on earth.

[maumeetsworld]

Welcome to your tape, bitch

Oh. My. God. This show is the perfect example of how I am actively ruining my life with the conscious decisions I make. I spent one week hate-watching it mainly because I wanted to understand the whole controversy around it contribute to all the shitposting happening on Tumblr. So there I was, sitting on my couch, ready for some Netflix & Chill - the real kind, not the Grindr-enabled one - and then I heard Hannah Baker's voice, which led me to the following point:

1. How conceited is this girl?

I knew this was shit the moment I heard her saying she wasn't going to send her victimizers a podcast because she wouldn't make it that easy for them, so instead she sent them plain old cassettes. Bitch, seriously? You're dead, whatever makes you think that people who dgaf about you when you were alive, will do it now just because you took the easy way out? Next time you want to guilt-trip your classmates from the grave, at least wait till after they've contacted you through a Ouija board.

And don't even get me started on her self-proclaimed moral superiority. She blames Jessica for her death because she slapped her, but then Hannah witnessed her being raped and that didn't ring a bell on how shitty a person she was too? Like, please, you would have gotten a million tapes yourself had anyone else come up with the same stupid idea.

This brings me to the second point.

2. She was not alone

This show would have been remotely less annoying if Hannah had actually been isolated. In fact, they tried to go there by having her say how lonely, unpopular, and disliked she was, and how everyone was just trying to get her. Except they were not. In fact she made a fuckload of friends throughout the series. She was dating the jocks, experimenting with the Queen Bee, being all deep and intellectual with the gay guy, going to parties at the cheerleader's house, friendzoning the hot geek, and even having her own little version of The Breakfast Club with an Eminem wannabe.

And yet you're telling me that she was unpopular and nobody liked her? Yeah, OK, next.

3. Her reasons to kill herself are ridiculous

Somebody stole the drawing that some anon left in your compliment box? Heartbreaking. Was that a reason to kill yourself? Of course not! Well, on a second thought, maybe the fact that she went to a school where they had compliment boxes was.

Seriously, what were the writers thinking when they were working on this script? Did nobody think that this was stupid af? Suicide is never justifiable, but fuck, if you're going to do it, at least come up with a decent reason. Don't slit your wrists open over someone reading your anonymous poem in class, which, by the way, nobody even knew was you. There's a fine line between crying for help and stirring up drama just for the sake of it. Hannah Baker mostly dwelt in the latter.

4. None of this would have happened if she had not been actively looking for drama

Hannah was upset because the high school jock shared a pic of her undies. He then told the whole school that she was an easy lay. Outrageous. Then one of his friends tried to pull a Donald Trump on her (and grab her by the pussy) because, you know, the high school jock said she was easy, remember? All of that I get.

What I don't get is why over the course of the series she continued interacting with him and everyone else who was mean to her - according to her delusional ass, anyway - and even getting in a hot tub with them. I'm sorry, but that's not the behavior of someone who's deeply hurt and desperate for things to improve. That's the behavior of someone asking for it. No, I don't mean rape. Rape is never justifiable. I mean drama. She was asking for drama and if she didn't t get  it, she would create it.

5. The rape aftermath

OK, fine, the whole rape situation was not cool. Yet her blaming the counselor is what really pissed me off. Hannah, being the dumb ass teen that she is was, wanted justice - which I totally get. What I don't get is why the fuck would she even bother to go and make a scene at the counselor's office and then throw a bitch fit at him when he told her that she needed to move on? Yes, that is a shitty answer, but what was she expecting? He was a fucking counselor for fuck's sake, not Professor Xavier. He couldn't read your mind, girl. If you she truly wanted him to help, then she should have spoken up and spilled the tea on Bryce. Oh, no. instead she went crazy and stormed out of the room ready to do the job, but not before standing outside of the counselor's office hoping he would run after her.

The hell you think you are, Hannah? Cinderella? Who'd want to run behind a crazy, borderline psychotic teen with an attitude problem?

6. The Latin classmate

I'm not done hating on Hannah, but this guy got me raging almost as much as she did. Everything from his crappy personality to his outfit was just terrible, but the real mystery is what he even had to do with Hannah, and why the fuck does he pretend to be all wise and mighty? First of all, if he was that wise, he would have stopped dressing like Danny Zuko.

Also, let me get this straight: Hannah kills herself because in the end she has no friends, yet she entrusted this guy to see her tapes through till they reached the 13th person? Ahem, is this a plothole or just plain stupid writing? I wanted to vomit every time Pedro - whatever, I'm Mexican - would show up just to act all shady and remind pretty much everyone around - mainly Clay, Clay, Clay, and Clay - that they had all killed Hannah.

Hoe, no. Someone friendly enough to give her a ride home when she was pissed drunk didn't kill her, she killed herself. Well, rather the razor blades that she stole from her bankrupt parents' pharmacy did, but those are just details. Also, if Carlos - whatever, I'm Mexican - was such a good friend and concerned about everything that had happened to her, he wouldn't be dropping cryptic af messages, he would have taken the tapes to the police and let them deal with the jock. But no, of course he didn't do that because that would have required a writer to stop mixing vodka and Xanax and realize the show they were producing. No, instead he took the least sporty-looking character rock climbing because that's just how he rolls.

7. Clay

So the guy went from being the wallflower to taking justice into his own hands? What's his name again? Batman? I still don't understand how he's supposed to be all smart and yet not once, not even for a single second, does he stop and think that maybe, just maybe it's better to tell his parents, or any other grown up in fact, about what's happening and about how every other person wants to axe him. Like, I get it, you're angry, you're hurting, but you know what hurts more? That gap on your forehead, you know, the one you got after a car hit you?

Like, didn't anyone notice it? Am I the only one who can see it? Cos, girl, it's so big it makes the gender gap in the workplace look narrower in comparison. Go get stitches, like, now.

8. Where the hell are all the parents?

Underage drinking, tattoos, drugs, reckless driving, guns, teens with huge af scars all over their faces, like, where the fuck are all the grown ups? Are you trying to tell me that not even one adult noticed any of this? For fuck's sake, Clay's scar is putrid and so is half his face now, he's dying of an untreated infection!

9. The fandom

I cannot even begin to explain how annoyed I am at the people who think this is an accurate reflection of the suffering that many of them have gone through. You're wrong, and I don't feel bad saying it. Hannah had multiple opportunities to save herself if she had not acted stupid, dared to speak, and or seek help. She had loving parents, a hot geek ready to jump her, and apparently she was the best of friends with Jorge - whatever, I'm Mexican. No, if she killed herself was because she was starving for attention. She wanted to guilt-trip everyone and make them feel as shitty as they had made her felt except, guess what? She's not there to witness it.

10. The message

That's my issue with this whole fucking series. It plays with the idea of suicide in an almost hedonistic way, it's almost as if they wanted us to picture Hannah Baker laughing in Heaven - or rather in Hell cos she killed herself, obvi - at the sight of all these people suffering over her death and feeling remorseful the actions that led to it. Let me tell you something: Unless you become Casper, you will not get to see this.

To everyone thinking that suicide is as glamorous as 13 Reasons Why made it seen, it's not. You die and that's it. Sure, there will be people devastated by it - your parents - but that's it. There will be no Juan - whatever, I'm Mexican - sending tapes on your behalf or Clay growing a vagina in the middle of his forehead during his quest to uncover the truth. You'll be gone and that will be it.

In conclusion, 13 Reasons Why is a steamy pile of trash from start to finish and was clearly targeting all the dumb af teens who also thought that The Fault in our Stars is the epitome of modern literature. It's pretentious, it's boring, it's full of plotholes, and it will make you rage from start to finish. Needless to say, this is my opinion and that's about it. If you don't like it, well... Welcome to your tape, bitch.

[tiny260]

31 Horrific Days: Day 1

Writing Prompt:  The character goes out on a date (or an outing with a friend) and comes home late that night to see all of their furniture moved/stacked oddly, rotten food in the fridge, but no signs of entry or security issues.

1984

“Sooooo?” Lisa looked over expectantly to her friend as the credits rolled on the theater screen before them.

“There’s no way in hell that’s a PG movie,” Michelle answered, shaking her head at the screen.

“Parental Guidance, emphasis on Guidance.” Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, and any smart parent would ‘guide’ their kid away from a movie where a Gremlin explodes inside of a microwave.” Michelle made a face. “Seriously, how did they even DO that effect?”

“What, and the ghost blowjob is totally fine for kids?” Lisa shook her head in bemusement. “They’re both bad for kids… and both totally bitch’n! We should do Double Features more often!”

“Oh my God, you actually said ‘bitch’n’ in public.” Michelle stood up. “We are no longer friends.”

“Good luck getting someone else to offer you a ride home then!” Lisa laughed as she walked out of the theater with her. “By the way, how’s the move-in coming along?”

Michelle snorted. “Oh yeah, it sure is coming. Had to hire a full team to move in all my ten pieces of furniture.”

“Hey.” Lisa put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “You’ve got a bed. You’ve got a phone. You’ve got food-”

“If you can call cheap canned beans food.”

“And,” Lisa forcefully continued, not allowing Michelle to deter her, “you’ve got a halfway decent apartment after living in that drafty piece of shit that’s somehow legally allowed to be called an apartment for five years!”

“And all it took was every penny I saved in college,” Michelle smirked.

“Can’t you at least pretend to enjoy a happy turn of events for once in your life?”

“And give you the satisfaction? Not likely.”

“Oh fuck you too!” Lisa laughed as she lightly shoved Michelle’s arm. The two of them climbed into Lisa’s well-loved Chevvy, the headlights shining against the darkness of the late night as she revved her car into action.

“-eel like, somebody’s watching me!” the radio sung out as it flickered to life.

“A lot of people would kill to be in your position, you know.” Lisa put her arm around Michelle’s seat as she turned herself around to back out of the parking spot.

“Still sleeping in a twin-sized bed at twenty-four?”

“Oh stop snarking for once in your life and let me give you a morale boost.” She kept a hand on the stick as she shifted gears, pulling out onto the streets. “You’ve already got six months of rent paid off ahead of time. You’ve got a nice place to live, you’ve got a GREAT job. Yeah you’re broke right now, but give it some time and you’ll be the one paying for lunch.”

Lisa looked at her smugly. “I expect only the highest quality gold plate lobster for how great of a friend I’ve been once you’re rich.”

“Altruistic to the end, I see.” Michelle rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face.

“Michy…”

“Alright, alright,” Michelle sighed. “You’re right. Happy?”

“As a clam!” Lisa beamed, smiling at the road in front of her. Michelle rested her elbow on the car door, pressing her palm into her cheek.

“It’s just… yeah. Things will pick up soon,” she said. “That’s the entire idea. I knew it would be like this since freshman year. I knew what I was getting into from day one.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming along…”

“It’s frustrating, and I’m being stupid,” Michelle assured. “But I feel like… I’ve been doing this since college. Living off as little as possible, saving every last penny I made all to get myself to a comfortable spot once I graduated. And now that I have, I just… like I said, I’m just being stupid. I’m impatient, I want to be living comfortably already after busting my ass for a Master’s. I mean, hell, I’m getting SICK of living off canned food. I’d love to be able to go home and have my kitchen stocked with real food, y’know?”

“Mhm,” Lisa nodded, keeping her eyes on the road as she slowed to a stop at a red light. “I’m honestly shocked you’ve managed to last this long, honestly. I’m not nearly as strong as you.”

“It’s not strength, it’s just being stubborn,” Michelle laughed.

“You turn being stubborn into a strength,” Lisa insisted. “Hell, it’s the foundation of your career, isn’t it?”

“No, I founded my career off spite,” Michelle corrected. “When you decide to graduate with a Master’s in Engineering and fight tooth-and-nail for a position in Silicon Valley for no other reason than a bunch of assholes told you girls can’t work with computers when you were twelve, that’s just being spiteful.”

Lisa, who had heard this story a hundred times before already, quietly nodded along. “And yet you turned that spite into drive. That’s admirable, no matter what anyone else tries to say.”

Michelle chuckled. “How would I ever get by without my own personal hype-woman?”

“Well for starters, you’d be taking the bus everywhere…”

A harsh buzzing noise interrupted the song as it closed out on the radio, catching both women’s attention.

“An apparition event is reported as occurring on Morse Avenue. If you are in the immediate vicinity of Morse Avenue, seek shelter immediately until deterrent forces have contained the situation.”

Lisa groaned as the announcement continued. “Shit. Looks like I’m not going home anytime soon. God, I hope my place isn’t wrecked when I get back…”

“Doesn’t your insurance cover Spook attacks?”

“Yeah, but the rates are going to skyrocket if one of ‘em caves in the front of my place!” Lisa leaned her head back against the headrest, glaring grumpily at the night before them. “I wish Gremlins were the Spooks we had to worry about. Hell, I think I’d take ghosts over these things, at least they could be contained without calling in the military.”

Michelle looked at her friend sympathetically. “…you wanna stay over at my place for the night? I can roll out the air mattress for you.”

“You.” Lisa reached a hand out, touching Michelle’s shoulder. “Are the absolute best. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You have,” Michelle rolled her eyes as Lisa lightly shook her. “Multiple times.”

“Then maybe it’ll eventually set into that stubborn brain of yours!”

Half an hour passed before the elevator doors opened onto the floor that held Michelle’s apartment. Lisa had a spring in her step as she followed behind, Michelle digging into her pocket to pull out a slim wallet with a single key affixed by a metal ring to a punched hole in the corner of the front flap of her wallet.

“Hey! Hey, Michy!”

Michelle turned around with mild bemusement as she watched Lisa jump on the spot a few times.

“The floor isn’t falling apart!” Lisa beamed at her. “And it doesn’t smell like mold’s in, like, every wall!”

“Okay, I get it.” Michelle rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face, stopping in front of her door. “I moved up in the world. I should be happy I’m not in a dump. You broke me, your optimism has infected me like a fungus.”

“Pfft, I wish,” Lisa scoffed as Michelle unlocked her door. “Honestly, you need more optimism in your life. If I actually could infect you with…”

The first thing Michelle noticed was that something was off. She wasn’t even consciously aware of what it was when the door swung open, one brief glance simply set off an alarm in her subconscious that there was something that wasn’t as it was supposed to be.

A second later, she was able to properly work out what it was. The small CRT she had in the corner was moved directly underneath the window, stand and all. The power plug was still plugged into the same outlet, stretched out to accommodate the new placement of the television and keeping it far too close to the edge of the stand for her own personal comfort.

The air mattress was also rolled out, but deflated and crumpled with the air pump sitting on top of it, half-covered by a pillowcase… with the pillow that originally went inside torn in half and stuffing spread across the living room floor, trailing back to her bedroom.

Two seconds after Michelle began visually taking in the room, she and Lisa were both hit with a powerful, rancid oder that made the both of them recoil and physically gag.

“What the shit…?” Michelle grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifting it so the fabric was covering her mouth and nose. It was just barely enough to keep her from outright losing her popcorn. While Lisa remained in the hallway, pressing her hand against the far wall as her other hand went to her throat in an effort to keep her own gagging to a minimum, Michelle stepped into her apartment and turned to the kitchenette.

To say it was a mess was an understatement. Every drawer was pulled open, her cabinet door was practically torn off its hinges, the fridge was pulled away from the wall, and every conceivable surface was covered in rotten, in some cases half-eaten food. Mashed potatoes with the fat of a steak spread out over the sink, a roast that looked and smelled like it went bad days ago sat in the pantry between cans of beans, old caved-in onions that had bugs nesting in them littered her floor… Seeing everything right there, she almost threw up on the spot.

Michelle staggered out of her apartment, slamming the door closed behind her as she gasped for fresh air.

“What the actual fuck?” she asked the air.

“Yeah, uh, I was going to ask the same thing!” Lisa shook her head. “Did-did you kill someone and stuff their body in your apartment? Because all you’d have to do is ask and I would’ve found a much better place to…”

“Please, if I wanted to kill someone I’d be public about it and go down with style,” Michelle cut her off. “No, some asshole ransacked my place and dumped a dumpster full of shit in my kitchen.”

Lisa blinked. “Uh… okay, who and why?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Michelle threw her arms into the air. “All I know is that my place is a mess and I am pissed and I want some fucking answers!”

Half an hour later, the two women were standing with the superintendent and a member of security in the complex’s monitoring station. Security had that evening’s tape on a small black-and-white CRT, running through the timestamps of the footage.

“And you’re sure nobody strange entered through the front?” Michelle asked the superintendent again. The elderly man shook his head.

“I think I would’ve noticed someone dragging a bag of rotten food in, little lady,” he insisted. Michelle’s fist clenched for a second underneath her crossed arms. “Tonight’s been quiet.”

“What about the fire escape?” Lisa offered. “Maybe someone climbed up that way and…”

“My windows were locked,” Michelle shook her head. “And nothing was broken. Someone must’ve picked the lock of my door, or… or stole a spare key or something.”

“You’re sure your windows were locked?” security asked, confusion in his voice.

“Positive,” Michelle insisted. “Why?”

Security moved his chair aside, gesturing to the footage on the CRT that stared down the hallway Michelle’s apartment was on. People moved around at super-speed in the footage, entering and exiting their rooms. None of the figures exactly carried around a trash bag, and no figure except Michelle approached her door.

“Nobody came in through the door…?” Lisa asked in confusion. “Then… how?”

Security and the superintendent looked between each other, shrugging.

“Well someone didn’t just teleport into my place!” Michelle snapped.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the superintendent said simply. “It doesn’t make sense, but there’s the facts for you.”

“Oh!” Lisa’s eyes widened. “What if it was a manifestation event? A Spook appeared in here and…”

“Those don’t happen inside of buildings!” the superintendent said quickly. “And they sure as sunshine don’t happen that high up, I run a safe establishment here!”

“Right,” Michelle said bitterly. “Safe from Spooks, just not from crazy motherfuckers who can teleport inside of homes and mess the place up. The hell am I paying for?”

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” the superintendent insisted. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to deal with that stench,” Michelle said bitterly. “Look, just… I just want to make sure this isn’t coming out of my fuckin’ deposit.”

“Nothing’s broken, so… no,” the superintendent shrugged. “You’ll have to cover your own cleaning costs, though.”

“Are you shitting me?!” Michelle demanded. “Of all the…!”

“Thank you, sir!” Lisa said quickly, putting a hand on Michelle’s shoulder to shut her up. “I’m sure she appreciates the help, don’t you?”

“If this happens again, it’ll be your ass,” Michelle growled.

“Michy let’s not make enemies with your own superintendent,” Lisa said quickly.

Michelle scoffed. “What-the-fuck-ever.” She stormed out of the room, Lisa flashing an apologetic smile as she followed. Security and the superintendent looked at each other.

“Women, right?” the superintendent asked.

“I’d rather not get involved,” security said quickly, ejecting the security tape.

Outside the complex, Michelle sat on the ground with her back to a wall, covering her face with her hands. Lisa approached her quietly, sitting down next to her and placing a gentle hand between he shoulders.

“You okay?” Lisa asked.

“No,” Michelle said honestly. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

Lisa nodded in understanding. “We could rent a motel room for the night. Then tomorrow, I can get some trash bags and spray cleaner from my place and we can fix your place up.”

Michelle looked at her. “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“It’s a good thing I’m offering so you don’t have to ask then,” Lisa smiled. “C’mon. I’m sure there’s somewhere cheap nearby.”

“Yeah, the two of us renting a cheap motel room for the night,” Michelle smirked. “That’s not going to raise any eyebrows at all.”

Lisa laughed. “Yeah, you wish you could get a piece of this!”

“…no comment.”

“Hey!”

As the two women returned to Lisa’s car, Michelle’s apartment sat untouched in the dark, the rancid, rotting food fermenting in the darkness.

From the warm space behind the moved fridge, a single eye stared out into the dark.

And a long, pitch-black arm with only four misshapen fingers and teeth for nails reached out, clumsily grabbing one of the rotted onions and pulling it back into the dark space behind the fridge. The eye and the onion both vanished.