#the hipster glasses are because i wear them but also because they hide the fact that she doesn't have the right eyes

[nyalisa-landale]

new birthday dragon! i named this one alisa, so she gets a rapier. and i don't think there are cat ears for dragons, so i gave her five cats, instead.

[physicalturian]

[18+] Goodbye Head - Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [No spoilers from the anime or the manga]

Words : 5162

Archive of our own

Tags : Cheating / Cunnilingus / Light bondage / NSFW / Power Play / Choking / Hair-Pulling / Vaginal sex

If you think I should add some tags, tell me!

Summary : Gojo is the worst boyfriend, after one too many time he forgets to come at one of your evening together: you've had enough. Nanami is here to help with what Gojo has been lacking your entire relationship : nice sex, maturity and not being a bitch.

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Putting my phone away, I rested my elbows on the counter and exhaled, frustrated, “He’s going to be late,” I said. As I took the glass of wine Nanami was handing me, he added, “Again,”. As much as I was disappointed that my boyfriend was missing on our time together, I laughed at Nanami’s remark. He was right, but what else could I do? Cry about it? Not for him, no.

There was no reason to make a big deal out of it, it wasn’t unusual for him to get delayed on our free nights together, a few other times he wouldn’t even come. At this point, I was more surprised to have him there at all, than to receive his messages filled with “sorry’s” and “it won’t happen again”, hours after he was supposed to pick me up or meet me. Even tonight, Nanami had to come pick me up since my boyfriend wasn’t there on time and had borrowed my car.

Raising my glass towards Nanami, he mirrored it a moment before taking a sip and focusing back on the pan in front of him as he cooked, “Well, it’s you and me once again,” I scoffed with a smile, that I tried hard to keep up and not let it get to me. Twirling the glass in my hand, I got lost in the dark red liquid, thinking of what to do next. The efforts I was putting into this relationship were not reciprocated at all, I was giving more than receiving, and I was past the point of getting disappointed.

“Something on your mind?” Nanami’s voice brought me back to earth and I straightened my back with a nervous laugh. I looked at him, then at my drink, then at him again, then chugged the wine down and said, in one breath, “You know what? Yeah, did you know that when he fucks me, he says ‘Get out, get out’? Like- what’s that about? The bitch just got in, it doesn’t make sense,” Nanami quirked a brow, the smallest of smiles on his face. Wiping his hands on his apron, he rolled up his sleeves a bit higher before putting the pastas in the water. “Are you sure that’s what he’s saying?” His tone made it seem like he had a suggestion.

Frowning, I asked him to go on. “Maybe he’s saying Geto, it’s a bit closer and I know they were close… I think they’re still friends,” He trailed off, walking around the kitchen to get some spices and adding them to the pan, all while talking. I had to give it a thought a moment, weighing his words. Could it be? He never really explained why he went out, I always thought it was sorcerer business and did not give it more mind. But now that Nanami mentioned it, it made sense. I waited for him to put the wine bottle on the counter then took it by the neck and chugged a few gulps before chuckling.

“You’re saying he’s cheating on me with the hipster dude?” I scoffed dryly, drinking some more, my grip on the bottle tightening. “We’re not sure though… Right?” I argued, more to myself than to Nanami, trying to convince myself. I don’t know why I was willing to give him a chance, I knew the moment I got together with him he wasn’t the settling type. Twirling the base of the bottle on the counter, I was thinking, should I break it off now or wait until we’re home, and until we’ve talked… “I don’t think he’s worth you getting sad over him, if that’s what’s going on,” I heard Nanami real close to me as he gently took the bottle from my hand and took a sip too. Less desperate than mine.

Smacking my lips together, I sucked in my teeth and turned around, looking at Nanami with a determined expression. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back, “You’re right, he’s shit. He doesn’t even fuck that well,” I huffed, hopping on the counter while Nanami stirred the pastas.

“Is that so? He prides himself in that, if he hears you say that he’ll probably break down,” “There is no pride in being the worst,” I spat. That’s when I felt like ruining this man, or at least his credibility in that department. Giving Nanami a look, I took a deep breath and started listing, raising a finger at each thing, “He only fucks me from behind, I’ve never seen this man’s face during sex. Oh! And he says the condom doesn’t feel good, well sorry you think your raw-fucking feels good?” I paused when Nanami handed me my glass, he had filled it up and was smiling, chuckling slightly too as he nodded for me to follow him so that we could talk on the couch.

Doing so, I got off the counter and followed him, making sure not to spill my drink when I jumped. I had to force myself not to look at the blonde man’s back, finding a sudden appeal to his entire person. Ignoring my train of thought, I slumped on the sofa and felt bad for blurting out those facts about him, so I apologized to Nanami with a short laugh, “It’s just, I was willing to let it slide because I think I loved him, or something? But the more I think of it, the more I realize I let too much shit slide, you know? Sure, I can let him and his weird texting habits, be. He would either text way too much, needy for attention or would completely disappear off the face of earth without a warning,” I huffed.

I couldn’t believe I was telling Nanami all that, it wasn’t his problem and yet he was listening, willingly, not making weird faces or mocking my situation. “You are talking about it in the past already,” He noticed.

Laughing breathlessly, I nodded, “I guess I am… Maybe I’ve already made a decision, but I won’t rush it…” I trailed off, silence setting between the sorcerer and me. I couldn’t keep it like that, so I took a sharp intake of breath and continued, “Can I still rant just a tiny bit more?” The man in front of me nodded, telling me to go on. “I don’t think the man has had sex education classes,” I stated, making Nanami laugh shortly in his drink before having him ask what I meant by that.

“Except for the fact that he didn’t want to wear a condom, ever, he also didn’t seem versed in foreplay… he would just… Fuck and groan loudly, finishing super quickly,” I said, still not believing I was telling him that. Extending my hand in front of me, I gestured for him to pause as I had seen he was going to talk, “No, you know what? I’ll say it, it’s the truth so I’ll say it,” Nanami frowned at first before quirking a brow, intrigued.

“I was his personal fleshlight, that’s it, that’s what it was,” I gestured that I was done, giving him the floor so to speak. The man in front of me had to put his drink down before opening his mouth, a slight frown on his forehead, “It couldn’t be all that bad, he helped you finish, right?” He asked, probably to give Gojo at least some credits. Although from the look in his eyes, he was expecting the answer I gave him, albeit less loudly.

A loud cackle left my mouth, “Him? No, no, I don’t remember him doing that, ever. It’s alright though, I probably took too long for him,” I shrugged, tending to my drink, once again starting to get lost in it. The more I thought of it, the more it made sense. He was probably imagining someone else the entire time, I was played for a fool. “Shouldn’t have sucked him off either, since he never returned the favor,” I grumbled, suddenly feeling bitter as I drank some more.

“So, he’s garbage,” Nanami said, bringing the glass to his lips. I watched his every move, finding the man had some charm, some grace, he was poised and mature. Everything Gojo wasn’t. A strand of hair was falling from his perfectly slicked back hair, but it didn’t make it disheveled, no, it was a controlled mess. When he swallowed, it brought my attention to his throat, free from the tie that minutes ago was restraining it. It was still around the collar of his shirt, only now it was loose, along with two buttons undone.

I was ripped out of my daydream when I heard my name being called. Blinking, I looked up and stared at Nanami, confused. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“Right, uh… Sorry, I got lost in… my thoughts,” I gestured at nothing, “Sadness and all that jazz, you know?” I joked, gulping down more wine and made a rewinding gesture, this time, “Could you repeat?”

The blonde hummed. A sound that sent something coursing through my body, something I didn’t think I would get from him. “I asked what you were going to do about him,”

“Break up. Even if he isn’t cheating, I’ve come to the realization he ain’t the shit, you know?” He nodded, a pensive expression on his face. The man seemed deep in thought, and since he wasn’t talking, it gave me time to enjoy the view a bit more. He leaned forward once more to set his glass down, which gave me the most exquisite view of his back muscles and his ass, but I didn’t comment.

“He never made you cum, then.” Nanami stated, more than asked. I stammered, my cheeks heating up quickly. He wasn’t wrong, and we had been on the topic for a moment… But he said it so crudely, I was caught off guard, yet I found myself nodding at first, before replying, “Which isn’t like, a big deal or anything, he’d leave the room to get cleaned up, shower, I’d finish with anything. Or not, depending on how lazy I would be. I don’t get my hopes up anymore, really,” “And how long have you been together?”

“Don’t know, a few months?” I replied quickly but confused.

Nanami looked me up and down, asking another question, “And before that, how long had you been single?” I don’t know why I laughed timidly, so I brought the glass to my lips to hide it before finishing my drink and putting the glass down next to Nanami’s. It felt like an interview with all the questions he was shooting at me, yet I replied, “A while, I don’t remember- why all the questions?”

“It’s been a while then, since you’ve been properly eaten out,” He ignored my question and continued, making me smile in surprise, my eyes wide. I was silent for a moment, considering my answer, or if I should even answer, it all happened quickly, and my first words were, “Kento!” I exclaimed under my breath in an overdramatic tone. He did not budge, and said in what could have been described for playful, at least for him, “Is that a yes?”

“I mean… yeah, yes it’s been a while, but I don’t see why that’s any of your concern,” I said lightly, suddenly aware of the distance between us that was close to none. His knee was brushing against mine, and slowly as he spoke, his hand brushed over my knee, “I want to get those hopes up again, along with those legs,” There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, but it was mostly a serious suggestion that did not displease me, if anything I was feeling excited. He had a way with words that left me speechless, unlike my boyfriend who I tried to tune out most of the time.

Fuck it says a lot about our relationship, doesn’t it? Coming to that realization, I held Nanami’s gaze with mine, looking down at his lips a few times before locking my eyes on his once more. “If you want to, then yes, I’d definitely take you up on that… offer… But don’t feel like you need to do it-“ I was thrown off balance when Nanami brought my legs on his and made me fall on my back. I was quick to support my weight on my elbows to look at him, flustered. “I don’t feel obligated, I want to do this. I’ve been picturing you naked for so long, forgive me for the eagerness,” He breathed as he moved to position himself properly between my legs.

I matched his eagerness in unbuttoning my pants, letting him pull them down, “Don’t apologize, I like the fervor, it’s flattering,” I told him with a bit of shyness in my voice. The blonde got rid of my pants, throwing them behind him before focusing back on me. He paused a moment, taking a good look, making me slightly self-conscious but I didn’t voice it. It quickly dissipated when his hands gripped my thighs semi-tightly, rubbing them affectionately. “I’ll give you all the flattery you deserve,” He whispered, leaning in for a kiss but stopping just before our lips could meet. “Do you want to make him jealous?”

I was holding my breath in expectation when I said, “I’m not really the type…” he chuckled and kissed me softly, shortly, pulling back after a moment. “Are you sure?” He slowly moved lower, raising my shirt to press a kiss on my stomach, I let out a shaky breath and tried to pull him back up by his tie, “Maybe I do,” It earned me a grunt from the man, but he let me guide him up. He kissed me once more, this time while removing his tie, “Let’s keep those wandering hands off for now,” With a smile he took hold of my hands and wrapped his tie around it, not too tightly but enough to immobilize them for now.

Reaching for my pants, he took my phone and slid it in my hands, making sure I was holding it when he let go and said, “Send him a picture of us whenever you’d like, if he’s not too stupid he’ll understand,” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips, but quickly my cheeks heat up when Nanami paused and looked at me longer than necessary, a genuine smile on his lips this time. “Alright, get at it now, stop staring at me,” I huffed, unlocking my phone with my thumb which was the best I could do right now.

Nanami pushed my phone down, while I was still holding it, and made me look at him as he crawled up once more, “Ask politely,” he breathed against my lips before kissing them. I returned the kiss with a lot more passion, gasping in the kiss when his fingers slid inside my underwear and pressed between my legs, curling his fingers ever so lightly. He didn’t have to ask twice, I was the one to break the kiss breathlessly, already too impatient from just his promise, “Please, Kento,” I tried to grab the buckle of his belt with the tip of my fingers, he was faster to pull back with a dark laugh.

“And to think Gojo hasn’t been giving you all his attention, what a grave mistake,” He trailed off, I hooked one of my legs on his shoulder while he took my underwear off, throwing it on the ground with my pants. When I was fully open for him, he helped me hook my other leg on his shoulder and leaned in, his mouth closer to my fold, “Kento, stop wasting time, just…” I held back from asking him to fuck me, because he was not going to, not tonight, or at least not right now, “Please…” I pleaded.

“Fuck you look so good like this, legs spread wide, begging for my tongue,” Before he latched his lips on my sex, he said, “Be good and show me how good you’re feeling,” then dragged his tongue slowly, from my entrance where I felt his muscle prod, to my clit, with more pressure he flicked his tongue a few times, making me swear under my breath in surprise. I took the opportunity to take a photo of him from that very angle, his gaze locked on mine and not on the camera. Nanami stopped and pressed a kiss on my inner thigh. “Go ahead, send him, you won’t be able to focus much once I’ve started,” His words made me hurry in my writing.

I was quick to send the picture to my boyfriend, along with a message reading “Slumber party 😊” then I locked the screen and let my phone fall on the pile of clothes on the ground. “Don’t worry, I made you look good with the angle,” I joked. I don’t know why I did that, but I felt the need to lighten the mood. Nanami did not care, “Of course I’d look good, your legs around my neck are quite the accessory,” I could feel my core pulsing simply by his words, he hadn’t said much but the charisma rolling off him turned me on more than I was ready to admit.

Without losing more time, Nanami dived once again between my legs. This time, he wasn’t holding my legs anymore, one hand was grabbing my ass while the other spread my lower lips as he dragged his tongue through my fold. It was slow and delicate at first, I was arching my back at the pleasure it was giving me, but I was not nearly as close as I wanted to be. After a few minutes, the pace increased, his lips around my clit were doing more than licking, they were sucking, blowing, biting, the latter having brought a deep grunt as I moaned “More,” before covering my mouth with my tied hands.

He was playing me like an instrument. Upon hearing my plea, Nanami looked up with a smirk, he was enjoying the way my cheeks burned up from begging, the humiliation, the submission, he was relishing in it. Seeing me writhing under him seemed to make him go wild, and yet he did not seem content yet, he wanted to make me beg more. He returned to his task, his tongue lapping at my sex while groaning in pleasure too, it was a lot more stimulating, and when I felt his hand let go of my leg, I held my breath, letting out a controlled whine when he slid two fingers inside me.

When he started thrusting them in and out, I moaned in my hands, covering the lascivious sounds that were escaping my mouth. I was very much aware of how loud I was being, and I was trying to keep it down as much as possible, I had been told many times to keep it down by my boyfriend and had taken the habits of doing just that. That’s when Nanami surprised me and paused everything, his free hand gripping my thigh with force to keep them from closing on him. “Breathe, move your hand from your mouth and let me hear you,”

When I took too long to obey him, he gently moved my bound hands from my mouth, I let out a shallow breath, “There,” He breathed, smiling down at me for letting him do as he pleased, “A lot better already, let’s see how good you sound now,” My eyes darted to his lips, it made him smile knowingly. He let me grab his shirt with my tied hands, but did not comply when I pulled him closer, instead he curled his fingers inside me, elating a weak gasp, “Oh that does sound better, I think you can do even more,” “Kento…” I whispered, wanting more of his touch, more than just his fingers but also the closeness of his body against mine, his lips…

Humming, he thrusted his fingers deeper all the while looking at me with a satisfied smile, “My name rolls of your tongue so beautifully, but if you want something you have to ask for it, I’m not a mind reader,” I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that he knew what I wanted, but he cut my attitude down to the root when he rubbed his thumb over my clit along with thrusting his fingers inside me. I moaned his name in surprise but didn’t stop as he kept his thrusts at a fast pace. “That’s it, you’re being so loud for me, you’re being so good,” He showered me with praise at each sound that left my throat in pleasure.

Hearing him say those things had an effect on me, it was almost electrifying how good it felt, the feeling went straight to my core. He must have felt my walls clench around his fingers since he leaned closer, his free hand traveling the length of my body to gently settle on my chin, “God, look at you-“ “Please kiss me, please- fuck,” Arching my back, I felt his fingers hit the perfect spot and it made me cry in pleasure, my eyes closing in pure bliss. That cry was muffled when Nanami’s lips crashed hungrily against mine, his fingers thrusting faster and faster inside my aching sex.

I was getting closer to relief when suddenly everything stopped and Nanami leaned back, out of breath and grinning while I let out a humiliating whine. “You’re such a good girl for me, just from my fingers…” He said as he pulled his fingers out of me, and moved down once more, both of his hands holding my thighs with a painful hold… A painfully pleasurable hold. I was fully aware of each of his touch, of his stroke on my body, on my burning skin, and yet, I felt like his touches were hotter than my skin, it sent shivers down my spine at each graze, each grasp.

Giving a tentative lick in the length of my sex, he said smugly, “I’ll have you cum on my face or not at all, now be good and be loud for me, we have a spectator,” He showed me his phone where Gojo’s name was displayed, Nanami mouthed ‘voicemail’ then started fucking me his tongue, I quickly called out his name in despair, making him look up, my slick running down his chin. “Can I?” I motioned my hands to his hair, “Don’t be shy, give it a push,” He cooed me, and I did exactly that.

I pushed his face between my legs and felt the vibration of his groan against my clit, pressure started building inside me once again. My mouth fell open, sounds of pleasure pouring out of my mouth as I gripped the blonde’s hair with more force, our moans were basking the room, definitely giving a show to the asshole who was going to hear it soon enough. Sucking my swollen nub, Nanami made the most sinful sounds, getting me so high on pleasure with his ministrations that I heard a sob escape my lips. Lust was clouding my senses, my head rolled back as a shiver ran through my whole body, my heels digging inside Nanami’s back while I arched my back.

His name escaped my mouth over and over again, at each press of his tongue against my clit, each time he’d drag his tongue along my fold, I was rocking my hips against his mouth for more. It only took his hands around my hips, pulling them towards his mouth for a better access, for me to let out another high-pitched cry of pleasure. The knot inside me snapped, utter bliss flooded my body as I felt the tension leave my body and my muscles relaxed, legs going limp around Nanami’s shoulders. I felt him give one last lick before gently removing my hands from his hair and lifting his head to hang up the phone.

When his eyes set on mine, he frowned, “Are you alright?” with care, he untied my wrists. It wasn’t as tight as it could have been, which meant it did not leave a mark, nor did it leave pain, something I was grateful for. “I’m more than fine, thank you for this…” With a short laugh, I tried to sit up, but Nanami held me down just a bit longer as he used his tie to get me cleaned up. I went to stop him, in vain when the man just looked at me while slithering his hand between my legs once more. “It’s gross, I could have gotten a towel or something…” I trailed off as I finally sat up, my thighs already a bit sore.

“Gross? You gave me the most enjoyable display that led to this, gross wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe it. A treat, perhaps, a gift even, but not gross.” Flattered by his words I felt bad when I pointed at his dirty tie, “I meant… to use your tie for it,” Looking down at his hand, he did not react as he added, “It was going to go to the washing machine anyway,” He shrugged as he dropped it on the low table while leaning over to hand me my clothes. Thanking him, I saw his chin was still glistening with my cum, I quite enjoyed the sight but pointed at my own chin, for him to mirror, “You got something right there,”

Quirking a brow, he gave me a mischievous smile, “Is that so?” He asked, tilting his head to get closer to me, he looked down at me, the smile never leaving his face, “It’s your mess, clean it,”

Surprised, I stared at him a moment then let my eyes travel down to his chin, my breath hitched. If it had been anyone else, I would have stood up and told him to do it himself, but there was something with Nanami Kento that made my knees weak. So weak I could let them drop to the ground and take care of him in ways he’s never been taken care of. Instead, my mouth opened barely, my hand reached for his chin and placed itself under it. I approached my lips and stuck my tongue out then licked him tentatively, he wrapped his hand around my neck, holding it lightly. “Give me more enthusiasm,”

“Be grateful I’m doing it at all,” I breathed against his skin, tracing my tongue over his jaw. He chuckled in response, the side of his fingers digging in the side of my neck barely. “With how thorough you’re being, I’d say you’re enjoying it a lot more than you’re admitting it,” He grunted against my ear, stopping my actions. I pushed against his hand and pressed kisses down his jaw, when I tried to push him down, he tutted me, “Let’s eat first-“ he got interrupted by his phone’s constant ‘dings’, making him sigh as we both look at it and saw Gojo’s spam.

“Seems like he listened to our little message,” Nanami said, a little too happily. I let out the loudest annoyed groan when the blonde opened the conversation, he tilted the phone for me to see too. It made me laugh how he had left him on read the last message he sent, before the spam.

Satoru Gojo: ???

Satoru Gojo: what??

Satoru Gojo: what’s going on??

Satoru Gojo: Hello????

Satoru Gojo: Nanamin??

Satoru Gojo: Hi? :))

Satoru Gojo: don’t be like that, answer me

He was still typing when Nanami slowly typed back,

You: I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.

Satoru Gojo: I GET THAT

Satoru Gojo: but like

Satoru Gojo: can I see??

Satoru Gojo: was she crying?

Satoru Gojo: why was she crying?

You: Because I made her cum. She was very polite about it, the way she asked to grip my hair…

I face Nanami quickly, my face flushed. “Don’t- there is no need to share that? He doesn’t deserve it” I breathed in panic. “Let’s say, it’s a goodbye gift, for him. To see what he lost,” Nanami said calmly.

Satoru Gojo: deadass?

Satoru Gojo: i did too

“He never did, but it’s fun he thinks he did. That means I fake well,” I said mockingly. Nanami placed his hand on my thigh and rubbed it gently, casually going higher and higher as he waited for Gojo’s texts. “What you gave me was not fake, I know what to expect now. You better not fake with me or you’ll pay the price, understood?”

My eyes widened, I scoffed jokingly but felt my arousal was very present from his words. “As long as you’re good, I won’t feel the need to fake,” I shrugged. He laughed genuinely, his hand sliding to my hip then to my lower back, “This is going to be fun,”

Satoru Gojo: she never cried tho

Satoru Gojo: do it again

Satoru Gojo: nanamin?

Satoru Gojo: hey, make her cum again

Satoru Gojo: Nams? Nanamin??

Nanami locked his phone, leaving the sorcerer on read, and turned to look at me, “That’s enough Gojo Satoru for one day, let’s see if the penny drops when he’s alone with his thoughts,”

“Right, I don’t think he realizes I’m breaking up with him, it sounds promising…” I mumbled, looking up at the blond man next to me when I felt him press gently my side, “Let’s eat first, then clear things up with him, but I have a few things to do before we talk to him once more,” the man said as he stood up, extending his hand to help me stand up. Taking his hand in mine, I let him guide me to the kitchen where he turned the stove on once more.

“As I said, first we eat, then…” He let go of my hand and stepped very close to me, leaning in, his lips grazed the shell of my ear, “Then I’ll fuck you senseless. Maybe I’ll start by fucking you in front of that glass over there,” he turned my head delicately, making me look at the bay window behind us, his open mouth trailed down my neck, barely touching my skin, “I want to show everyone how good you look when you take my cock-“ Before he finished his sentence, I hurried my hands to the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not waiting until we eat-“

Laughing, he gripped my hands tight and made me let go, “Oh, you are. You’re going to be a good girl and take it when I give it, understood? Or… you can beg, see if I care,” He trailed off, walking off to the fridge.

Looking at him, I already knew the evening was going to be long. But fuck, it sounded promising. I was not against begging, not if it was him.

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | Part 1 | William Nylander

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 1, let me know what you think about the idea of this series!

--

“I have a plan to fix this,” your best friend says, and there’s absolutely nothing worse than when Zach says that.

To be fair, when you called him in complete, blind panic, you weren’t really thinking straight. If you were, you would’ve started your tirade with a I don’t need you to fix this, but…

As it is, you forgot to say that, and so Zach is trying to fix it. That’s how your best friend works.

“I have a plan, too,” you say. You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs pulled up to your chest, and your phone is on speaker on the floor next to you. It’s quite a dramatic scene, with it being dark outside, the Toronto city lights twinkling below you; if you weren’t having a mental breakdown, you’d laugh about the high romantic comedy feeling this has.

“I’m going to throw myself off the roof and fake death.”

“If you throw yourself off the roof, it won’t be faking anymore.” Zach sounds undeterred by your possible impending death, which. Rude. Maybe you need a new best friend.

Outside, you can see the rain falling. Spring has arrived, but spring is really hit and miss in Toronto, and this week the weather has been dreadful. It kinda feels serendipitous, now.

“Zach,” you whine into the phone, “I can’t go to my ex’s wedding alone. You have to come with me.”

Zach sighs, but doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s already explained to you why he can’t do that – he has plans, and a wife, so - but…

“It’s so unfair.” You let your head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a thump, and wonder idly whether you still have a bottle of wine stashed in one of those cabinets. If there was ever a time to pull it out, it’s probably now.

“I told you, I have a plan. We can fix this.” Zach sounds smug, which doesn’t do anything to help your worry.

He always means well, and he’s a smart guy, yet somehow his plans never work out too well for you.

“The plan that I have,” your best friend says slowly, cutting himself off to interject: “And don’t say no right away!”

That probably means you’re gonna say no right away.

“My plan is that you’re gonna take Willy.”

You laugh.

“Fuck no.”

--

So, it’s not like you hate William.

It’s just. You also don’t like him.

He’s always so chipper and happy, and there’s no way anyone can be that chipper and happy all the time. And he’s always confident, sometimes borderline cocky, and you never know whether he’s being nice to you or taking the piss, whether to take what he says at face value or with a grain of salt. You don’t know what to make of him, which makes you feel uncomfortable in his presence.

And then there’s the fact that he’s William Nylander.

Obviously, being friends with Zach, who loves William, there’s gonna be times when you’re around him. And whenever you are, it seems like the entire city is around him, too.

Clubs, restaurants, cinemas, even stores: you can’t go anywhere without people whispering, without a crowd forming. Sometimes people even follow you.

And you know it’s William, because it never happens when it’s just you and Zach. Even though Zach is, in your opinion anyway, just as big a deal in Toronto as Willy. So. It must be something about William as a person.

However.

The idea of having to go to this wedding alone makes you wanna vomit, or cry, or maybe both. You feel your skin crawl and your heartbeat speed up, and you haven’t had a proper panic attack in years but it feels like it’s just below the surface, when you think about having to see Noah getting married, while everyone around you is just feeling sorry for you because you’re still lonely and pathetic.

It was such a bad idea to get your entire family so involved in Noah’s life, because now they’re all gonna be at his wedding, and even your own family will look at you with quiet disappointment.

It’s too much, literally, for you to even process, and you blame that lack of mental capacity for the fact that you end up telling Zach he can arrange a meeting with William for you.

--

Toronto is still hiding underneath an everlasting raincloud, and everything about you is soaked by the time you hurry through the coffee shop door.

So far for your jacket being waterproof, then.

The coffee shop, luckily, is warm and cozy, and you wonder why Zach has never taken you there before. There’s something hipster about it, sure, with mismatched furniture and indie music playing, but it has the kinda relaxed vibe you’re always looking for.

That’s when you spot him.

He’s wearing a hoodie and a snapback, and his glasses, which somehow make him fit right in with the aesthetic of the place, as if they hired him to sit there and be pretty – shut up, you don’t like him, but you’re not blind - and drink coffee, to fit the decor.

He looks up when he sees you coming, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N,” he says, almost amused, “this was unexpected.”

“Hey, William,” you mutter, shrugging off your wet jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite him. “I’ll just go get a coffee and then I’ll explain.”

“No need.” William motions towards one of the two mugs that are on the table. “Ordered you a hazelnut latte with oat milk.” He sounds proud, and you assume Zach told him your favorite coffee order but you’re a little impressed anyway.

From anyone else, maybe you’d seen it as common courtesy, but for William, to think about that? You’ve noticed he has a habit of thinking about himself, first, so, that’s a thing for him.

“Thanks,” you say, and you must look as baffled as you feel because William rolls his eyes a little.

“It’s just a coffee. And call me Will or Willy, please. William is what my grandmother says.” His eyes twinkle when he adds: “Oh, and angry old white dudes on hockey Twitter.”

If you didn’t kinda need him, you would’ve probably kept calling him William just to annoy him a little: you’ve never really seen William – Will – annoyed, not if not jokingly. You’ve seen him happy, dejected, upset, but never annoyed.

It’s a mood he regularly instills in you, so you wonder if you could return the favor.

However.

“Okay, Will, so here’s the thing.”

You do need something from him.

“One year ago, I had a boyfriend.”

Will raises an eyebrow, takes a sip of his coffee in the most pretentious way. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to hear the story?” you snap, forgetting for a second that you’re supposed to be nice to him. Old habits die hard.

Will holds up his hands and stills.

“So, my ex, his name is Noah. We got together when we were 16 and I thought he was the one for me. He was over at my house so much, my parents used to joke that we’d already gotten married and just hadn’t told them. He was as much part of my family as I was, and I thought we’d be together forever.”

Will takes another drink. His leg is bouncing up and down slightly; another habit of his that you really wish you could kick out of him.

“Long story short,” you decide to settle, “next month he’s getting married to the woman he cheated on me with.”

Now Will’s eyes widen, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that. You bet he’s really not expecting your next sentence.

“So I need you to go to the wedding with me.”

It’s quiet. You take the chance to take a sip of your drink; it’s delicious, maybe the best you’ve ever had, and now you wonder whether Will spends a lot of time here cause if not, you’d like to make this your regular coffee place.

“You wanna go to this douchebag’s wedding?” Will asks, sounding incredulous. And, okay, maybe you can’t blame him for sounding like that. 

“Want is a big word,” you hum. You link your fingers together, think of your mom when she spoke to you last.

“You have to come, Y/N. I promised him he’d always be a part of our family, and if you don’t go he won’t feel welcome. Surely you’re over him, by now?”

“My whole family is going and I think my mom will disown me if I don’t go. I told you, he’s as much part of the family as I am. If I didn’t go, it’d be like… Me not going to my brother’s wedding.”

“But he’s not your brother.” Will still looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He’s a cheating ex!”

You sigh. “They don’t know about the cheating part, actually.”

When you and Noah broke up, you hadn’t been in a good place. You felt embarrassed, but most of all, worthless. Like it had been your fault he cheated: if only you had been prettier, skinnier, smarter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have had to. He wouldn’t have fallen for Betty – his soon to be wife – if you’d been enough.

So, ashamed as you were, and knowing how much your family loved Noah, you didn’t tell them the truth. You simply told them you’d broken up because you’d grown apart, become different people.

In a way, you still think you made the right choice. You don’t think they would’ve chosen Noah’s side if you’d told them the truth, but it would’ve hurt them to cut him out of their lives, and still to this day he comes over all the time to fix stuff at their house or make them dinner.

You’re thankful for the way he cares about your parents, even if he never cared about you.

You try to explain this all to Will, but no matter what you say, the deep edged frown in his forehead doesn’t leave.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he declares, a little too loudly, when you’re done. “But at least I get why Zach wants me to go with you, now. As a barrier.” 

He’s puffing his chest a little and it would be cute if it wasn’t so typically William-Nylander-out-there, and now you’re wondering if he’s making fun of you or if he’s being genuine.

“You don’t need to be a barrier,” you say, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I just didn’t want to show up alone and have everyone think I’m still all kinds of messed up about this. I want people to know I’m doing great in life.”

When you see Will’s questioning gaze, you frown at him. “Don’t be sexist. I am doing great in life, even if I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need a boyfriend for that. It’s just that my family seems to disagree with that.”

“That’s not just a female thing,” Will says, and he seems to genuinely get it. “My mom asks me about twenty times every week if I’ve found a girlfriend yet. She wants grandbabies and she wants them now.”

“Even with your hockey career?” you ask him. It seems silly to you, for Will’s family to focus on grandkids when Willy is still so young, living his dream in the NHL.

Will laughs. “She doesn’t care about that. She says she’s had enough of that with dad. She’s proud of me for my career, but she wants me to have the family life, too, and she worries it’s gonna be too late really soon.”

“You’re 24, not 55,” you huff. Will shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Either way,” he says. “I can go with you to that guy’s wedding, and I can be your handsome, succesful, charming pretend-boyfriend.”

“And so humble,” you scoff, but there’s a weight lifting from your shoulders at his words.

“However,” Will continues, and the weight is back instantly. Damn it, you shouldn’t celebrate so soon. “My cousin, who lives in Calgary, has this baby shower, gender reveal party situation going on next week, and I don’t wanna listen to my entire family ask me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend for my babies every six minutes. So you have to come with me to that.”

You quickly do the thinking; one gender reveal party can’t last very long, you’ll just have to eat colored cakes and smile at people’s baby stories and chug some champagne, and then your wedding fears will be over.

However…

“Okay,” you say, “but my boss is getting married this weekend and I told him I had a plus one because I did, but Zach canceled because he’s a loser.”

Or, because his knee is bothering him and he’s doing some extra physical therapy to rehab it more. Whatever.

“So you’ll come with me to that, too, and we can practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing?” Will’s eyes twinkle and there’s an amused tilt to the corners of his mouth, and you realize you made it sounds as if you and him are gonna get married.

You glare at him and kick his feet under the table, and Will laughs a loud, obnoxious laugh that has always irked you but now that his full attention is on you, suddenly something like warm pride glows in your chest.

Maybe, this won’t be so bad after all.

Famous last words. 

[minimitchell]

callumhighwayweek day 4 - “you’re not jealous, are you?” (ao3 link)

.

Callum likes working at ‘Roasted’. It’s a nice enough job, the pay is better than with most student jobs around here and he meets lots of interesting people. Granted, a lot of them are kind of snobby and definitely a lot more of the hipster variety than what he’s used to, coming from the East End and all, but it is a fun job.

And it’s not like he’s going to be here forever.

He started working at the coffee shop in his second year of Uni, having seen their job listing for a barista on Instagram of all places. It’s pretty on par for the shop though. The owners, an older, alternative couple he’s only met a handful of times, are living in Bali for the better part of the year and the coffee shop is mostly being managed by their daughter. She’s laid back and funny and a really great boss.

And Callum has learned a lot in the last year and a half he’s been working here. He’d only done bar work in the past, pulling pints and washing dirty glasses, but he genuinely likes being a barista. He feels good whenever he remembers an order from someone who comes in regularly, he likes seeing their faces when they discover some new latte art he practiced and he doesn’t even mind serving teen girls for the sole purpose of them taking a picture with their names on their cups afterwards.

He likes it because he likes making people feel good, even if it’s just with a coffee, and he likes putting a little smile on their faces - and it also doesn’t hurt that he gets free drinks and free cake samples all day long.

“And a wonderful day to my favorite colleague as well.”

Oh yeah, there’s also Ben.

Ben had started two months before Callum even got the job here but by the time Callum had completed his training, Ben was already working like a seasoned pro.

He’s also in his last year at Uni, but he’s in a completely different department than Callum is. He’s a business major, spending most of his time across campus from Callum, who’s studying social work. On paper, they shouldn’t really get along considering their wildly different interests and plans for their future jobs, but they immediately clicked.

At one point during a quiet shift they got talking about their aspirations and Ben had told him he’s planning to take over his dad’s businesses when he’s done with Uni and maybe even expand them further. Callum thinks Ben can easily do that; he’s dead smart.

He’s also devastatingly handsome, as Callum noticed the very first time they met. Ben has these captivating blue eyes and an easy, welcoming smirk on his face at all times. He’s definitely a people person, able to make easy chit chat with just about anyone that comes in. He has this aura of confidence and assurance around him but it doesn’t make him come across as arrogant, not at all.

They spend most of their shifts together talking or teasing one another when they aren’t swamped with work. Ben likes to try almost every cake they’re offering that day, feeding little bites to Callum when he deems it ‘worthy enough for him’ and Callum likes to use Ben as a guinea pig for his latte art, trying out new designs or perfecting his existing one’s.

And when business is slow or when they’re about ready to close up in the evening, they get to talk with one another. What started with them talking about their degrees and course work quickly moved onto deeper and more substantial topics. 

Callum talks about being the first person in his family to go to Uni and the pressure he feels on himself because of that. He tells Ben about his desire to make a difference in the world, to help children who come from the same rough parts as himself. Ben on the other hand talks about his family a lot, about the need to prove himself in a big family you otherwise get lost in, about the feeling that he needs to compensate for his dad’s disapproval.

Disapproval stemming from the fact that he’s gay.

Yeah, he told Callum about that as well. It was a small revelation to him and Callum couldn’t help but tell him it’s the same for him. It feels like a new, deeper, level to their friendship.

It’s also the full source of Callum’s misery.

Because before this revelation, Callum could accept that the little infatuation he’s developed for Ben was entirely for nought. He was under no impression that this crush was ever going to be reciprocated because, to be completely honest, Callum had just assumed that Ben’s straight.

But since he knows that this isn’t the case at all, it almost feels like his crush has doubled or tripled in size; like maybe it has grown even more because there’s now this tiny, traitorous voice whispering that there might be a chance for them. Assuming he’d ever actually have the courage to ask Ben out.

He hasn’t so far; every time he even thinks about asking Ben to go out with him he chickens out in the end, afraid that Ben will laugh at him. Or even worse, that he’ll never want to work with him ever again. Because while he does like working here, he likes it even better when he’s working alongside Ben.

“How did your exam go?”

Ben joins him behind the counter, going to wash his hands before he starts taking over for Callum behind the till. He’s wearing a black polo underneath his burgundy apron and his hair is nicely tousled; Callum is itching to run his hands through it.

“Aced it. Hopefully.”

He pulls a face, trying to play it cool even though they both know Ben understands Advanced Marketing better than most people in his course. Callum didn’t expect anything less than an ace from Ben.

“‘Course you did.”

Ben sends him a wink, strolling over to the display counter and observing what they have on offer today. There’s a fresh carrot cake there Callum’s dying to share with Ben later. He steps next to Callum behind the till, logging in with his cashier number once Callum signs off and the way he rests his hand on Callum’s lower back while doing so, makes his heart throb in his chest, hammering all the way up into his throat.

Maybe today is the day he finally has the guts to ask Ben out on a date.

The shop gets busy shortly after Ben gets here and they don’t even really have time to get a breath in-between all the coffee and cake orders they have to prepare. It’s a fairly small shop and only two people are always scheduled to work on weekdays so they’re busy until the midday and after-work rushes are over.

Callum saves the last piece of carrot cake for Ben - even though their manager always yells at them for not giving everything to the paying customers - and Callum is just about to get it from the stock room to surprise Ben with it when this guy leans on the counter in front of the till.

He’s seen him before a couple times - tall caramel latte, Callum thinks. He doesn’t look much older than him and Ben, probably a fellow student, and Callum doesn’t like him for the sole reason that he always flirts with Ben when he comes in, trying to make him laugh or smile bashfully at the ground.

Callum hates even more that it works most of the time.

It’s no different this time. The guy says something that makes Ben laugh, making a show of dropping a five pound note into their tip jar after he’s paid just so Ben can see him do it and leers after him when Ben goes to make the drink for him.

He leaves with a wink in Ben’s direction afterwards and Callum eats the whole piece of carrot cake by himself in the stock room as some weird form of silent protest.

.

They don’t always work together.

Ben has a lot of afternoon classes and works late or mornings, whereas Callum is almost exclusively at Uni in the mornings and comes into work afterwards. So yeah, sometimes their shifts don’t line up. And then some other times, it’s just bad luck.

Callum tries not to sulk when he hears that Ben called in sick today. He knows it’s probably nothing too bad but they’re advised to stay home at any possible sign of illness regardless, for hygienic reasons and all that.

He likes working with Keegan, who came in for Ben today, as well but he was really looking forward to seeing Ben.

It sounds dramatic but the day drags on and on without Ben here, cracking jokes and making Callum weird drink combinations to try. Callum thinks it can’t get any worse but at close to five a very familiar face walks through the door.

It’s the guy who always flirts with Ben and Callum watches from behind the counter as he scans the area, looking around to see if he can spot Ben presumably. Callum almost feels bad for the devilish glee coursing through him at the knowledge that he won’t be successful today.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

Callum is trying hard to stay composed and give at least the impression that he’s being friendly. The guy gives him a barely-there smile, obviously not very interested in making a good impression on anyone other than Ben.

“I was wondering if Ben is working today?”

“Sorry, I can’t give out that kind of information.”

He tries not to revel in the eye roll the guy gives him but it’s hard not to. Yes, it’s incredibly petty but Callum can’t help it, he’d rather work the morning shift every day for a whole month than see Ben go out with this cocky prick.

The guy heaves a sigh and gives his order - one tall caramel latte just like Callum thought it was - and Callum punches it in for Keegan to prepare. Callum tells the guy his total and waits until he presses his card against the reader, nodding when the transaction goes through.

Callum thinks he’s about to put money in the tip jar but instead, the guy fishes a white business card out of his trouser pocket and slides it across the counter towards Callum.

“Can you give this to Ben? My number is on the back.”

He doesn’t wait for Callum to take it or even agree, moving along the counter to get his drink from Keegan. Callum tries not to openly show his annoyance at the bloke, grabbing the card and stuffing it into the pocket of his apron.

Over the next few hours he forgets all about the little piece of paper still hiding in the fabric of his apron. He’s cleaning the appliances, waiting for Keegan to be done with mopping the floor so they can close up for the day, when he realizes the business card is still in his possession.

He pulls it out of his pocket, looking at the bland text written across it in bold letters. Which student even carries a business card around with them? Even his name is obnoxious - Tristan, ugh. He doesn’t even feel bad when he, completely accidentally of course, lets the card fall, watching it sink to the bottom of the trash bag and getting covered by the old coffee grounds a moment later.

Oops.

.

Callum forgets all about Tristan and his stupid little business card, mostly because his next two shifts are spend with Ben again. To be completely honest, Callum could probably forget anything else around him exists whenever he’s in a room with Ben; it’s gotten that bad for him.

He’s completely determined to ask Ben out today, spurred on by the all of a sudden very real chance that someone else might get there before he can, and he doesn’t want to risk that. He’s been in love with the guy for close to a year now, he won’t waste another day.

Callum is in the back room, restocking the cups and lids before the evening rush begins when he hears Ben laughing at something behind the counter. He pokes his head through the door to see what’s so funny, but he doesn’t feel like laughing at all when he sees bloody Tristan standing there, arrogantly smiling at Ben.

He’s too busy seething at the fact he probably missed his chance with Ben now, can already see Ben accepting the number and going on dates and probably falling head over heels for this stupid guy, to remember he chucked the guy’s number in the bin. The one, he’s apparently asking about judging by Ben’s confused face and slight head tilt.

The distance between the stock room and the till is too great to make out any coherent words so he doesn’t know what Ben is saying in return, but it’s pretty clear this Tristan guy will throw him under the bus any moment now. God, how is he going to explain this to Ben when he inevitably asks why Callum didn’t forward the guy’s number? This is so not how he wanted this to go today; he could cry at the thought alone.

Ben turns his head to look in his direction and Callum has to duck back into the room in a flash, praying that Ben didn’t see him spying on his conversation just now.

He isn’t exactly proud of hiding in here afterwards, waiting for Tristan to leave and just staring at the different sized lids and brown paper cups with their logo emblazoned on the side. It’s definitely the most cowardly thing to do but Callum honestly feels like crying right now. He can’t bear to hear the guy he’s so stupidly in love with talk about going out with someone else; he just can’t do it.

It hurts knowing he’s never going to get the chance to make Ben see how perfect they could be for each other. Because he just knows he could make him so, so happy; Callum’s sure of that. He feels it deep in his chest, right where his heart is slowly twisting and turning.

“So, uh, you got something you wanna give me?”

The sudden shock at hearing Ben’s voice right behind him makes Callum flail his arms around, knocking over a whole stack of lids and sending them cluttering to the ground right in front of Ben’s shoes. He doesn’t really know what to say, whether he should admit he’s thrown the number away in a fit of pure jealousy or not, and the conflict must show on his face because Ben immediately takes pity on him.

“I told him we hadn’t seen each other since then so you didn’t have the chance to give it to me.”

“Thanks.”

The ground seems much more interesting to him than Ben’s expectant face right now and he’s scuffing his shoe along one of the many stains littering the light grey linoleum. Ben tries to catch his eyes, leaning down to enter Callum’s eyesight.

“Are you gonna tell me why you didn’t?”

Callum remains silent, only giving Ben a slight shrug in response to his question. Ben waits him out though, leaning against the doorframe until Callum finally sighs and meets Ben’s eyes. Time to get it out, he reckons.

He’s about to confess, to lay his feelings bare, when Ben preempts him.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

His voice is light and joking but there’s an undertone to it. Something that sounds almost daring and hopeful; like the prospect of Callum being jealous of someone wanting to ask him out doesn’t annoy Ben but that he’s actually maybe hoping it’s true.

The thought makes Callum pause, taking in the slight smile on Ben’s face and the bright sparkle in his eyes. It makes him brave enough to finally admit his feelings, to finally take that plunge into the unknown, uncertain.

“I was working up the courage to ask you out for weeks now, months even.”

Ben’s smile stretches out across his face, transforming his face into something even more beautiful than normal. He takes a step towards Callum, tangling his hands around the straps of Callum’s apron, pulling him further into his own body.

“So ask me.”

Ben is smiling up at him, his fingers running up and down the skin underneath the straps and he feels the touch burn through his shirt. He looks loved up for lack of a better term and Callum has the brief thought that they could’ve spent so much time being with each other already, but it doesn’t really matter now. They got there anyway.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Ben pulls him down against him, sealing their lips together in a careful kiss. It’s the most perfect thing Callum’s ever tasted, ever felt in his entire life. His hands settle on both sides of Ben’s face, guiding him back onto his lips again and again and again. Until their lips are red and puffy and customers are yelling to be served.

They get fired two weeks later for spending a little too much time in the stock room. 

It’s worth it.

[moon-stars01]

~Sugar Rush~

Hoshi x Reader

Author:pseudomint

Summary: Kwon soonyoung finds himself becoming a regular customer in a local ice cream shop after meeting mingyu’s cute co-worker. Sounds normal—unless you leave out the fact that he dislikes sweets.

Pairing:Hoshi(Svt) x reader

Gene:Collage/University,Ice Cream polar,attempt at humor,flirting,Smitten Hoshi,Mingyu third wheeling,Jun and his pick up lines

Rating:Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count:6100

———————-

~SUGAR RUSH~

Hoshi stares at the cute, pastel building, decorated with stickers of ice cream illustrations on the big, glass windows and door. He checks his phone screen once again, only to see the exact picture of the building he found on the internet glaring back at him mockingly.

This is the place. He finally knows where Mingyu’s secret workplace is. Don’t ask him where he got the address from (he might have.. owed a certain pink haired devil named Jeonghan). All he has to do now is to storm inside the ice cream shop and make fun of Mingyu for all it’s worth.

Being friends with that guy for a long time, Hoshi has a vague idea of why would Mingyu hide his workplace. The guy has always been vocal about his worship for anything hip-related, evident by his love for classic Pop, several ear piercings, and fashion style. He’s studying art so that he can become a tattoo artist. Moreover, he has a history as a delinquent back in middle school.

So, working in a local, cute ice cream shop near their campus might not be included in Mingyu’s list of Top 10 Dream Jobs, even as a part-timer.

Hoshi stifles a grin as he pushes the door open, earning a chime from the bell above. The shop is quite vacant, save for three customers, minding their own businesses in three different seats, the ice cream on their plates or cups half-eaten. One of them is bobbing their head to the popular pop song that is heard through the wall speakers. As Hoshi continues to scan the pastel themed shop, his eyes finally land on the glass display, filled with various flavors and colors of ice cream.Hoshi can already feel a toothache—he’s never been a fan of sweets, after all.

Noticing the absence of the employees behind the counters, Hoshi spots a bell placed beside the cash register. His hand hovers above it, uncertain whether calling the shop clerk with a damn bell is even polite—obviously, this isn’t some kind of five-star gourmet restaurant. Not that Hoshi has ever been into one.

Thankfully, before Hoshi could dive further into his impromptu crisis, an employee emerges from the back door. He’s wearing a pastel blue uniform shirt and a pink apron with the shop’s logo on the left side of his chest. Such soft colors, contrast with the dark scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?” Mingyu snarls, clearly aggravated by the mere of Hoshi’s presence alone.

And Hoshi can’t hold it back anymore. He laughs, folding his body in half, one hand clutching his gut as the other supports himself by gripping the counter. Fuck, this is funnier than he initially thought. No matter how he imagined it, the image of Mingyu and a cute ice cream shop just can’t be merged. Yet, here he is—the reality presented right before Hoshi’s eyes.Hoshi wheezes again.

“Stop fucking laughing,” Mingyu hisses, hands clenching on both of his sides. His face is flushed from anger with a mixture of embarassment. “This is why I’d never fucking tell you about this place!”

“Oh, it’s never about the place, ‘Mingyu,”Hoshi replies, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “It’s always been about you.”

Mingyu growls. “I’m seriously gonna kick you out.”

“I’m a paying customer,” Hoshi smirks back. “Treat me like one.”

“Then act like one,” Mingyu snaps, folding his arms across his chest, frown deepening. “Though I bet you can’t even handle the sweetness.”“Gimme the menu.”

“There’s one behind me, written on the chalkboard, asshole.”

“Wow, brilliant customer service,” Hoshi deadpans. “Don’t you have the printed one or something?”

“Aren’t you spoiled?” the hipster grumbles as he magically pulls out a menu, printed on a laminated paper from behind the counter. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to slap it against Hoshi’s chest.The act, however, is caught by one of Mingyu’s co-worker who’s suddenly coming out of the back room.

“Mingyu-oppa! Why did you do that to a customer?!” She screeches, horrified at her oppa’s rude behavior. She’s way shorter than Mingyu, and shorter than Kazuya. She has a (h/s) (h/c) hair that somehow looks soft and fluffy as the strands bounce everytime she moves.When their eyes finally meet,Hoshi’s lost the ability to speak.

Now, Hoshi’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, albeit having heard the idea of it in many sappy romance films. Hoshi’s also met many girls he considers as good-looking, but that’s it. There were no imaginary flowers or love-shaped bubbles or sprinkles of glitters around them, like a typical page of shoujo mangas. He didn’t feel his heart pounding harshly against his ribcages. He’s positive that he had never blushed at someone without any good reason.But his cheeks have never felt warmer than this moment.

The girl in front of him is unbelievably cute; she has an air of innocence around her that makes Hoshi want to scoop her up (no ice cream puns intended) in his arms and pinch those slightly chubby, round cheeks. Her cute button nose is perfect for a nose boop, and oh, how Hoshi wishes to nip her pink, plump lips.The girl’s tongue darts out to lick the very same lips, before she opens her mouth.

“Um.. are you okay? Is my co-worker hurting you?” She asks, brows furrowing in worry. Hoshi forces himself to look at her in the eyes, which is apparently a bad decision, because for the love of baseball, he’s never seen someone having such beautiful, molten e/c eyes—

“He’s fine,” Mingyu answers, shooting Hoshi a knowing look. “Sadly, I gotta admit that he’s a friend of mine, so don’t worry about him, y/n.”

“Oh!” Y/n brightens up, giving Hoshi an impression of a cute dog perking up its ears and wagging its tail. “Finally this l/n y/n gets to meet one of Mingyu-oppa’s friends!” She says joyfully with a voice a bit too loud. “May I also have the honor of knowing your name?”

Hoshi briefly glances at Mingyu, as if asking whether he should be concerned of Y/n’s odd, archaic way of speaking, but Mingyu’s expression works as a wordless assurance that it’s nothing to be worried about.Then, after eyeing Y/n’s extended arm as an offer for a handshake, Hoshi takes it firmly with a smirk.

“The name’s Kwon Soonyoung but you can call me Hoshi,” he purrs, his thumb tracing a circle on the back of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”His smirk broadens when a blush blooms on the girl’s cheeks.

“Uh—likewise!” Y/n retracts her hand too quickly. “Um, I’ll let you proceed with your order with Mingyu-oppa—“

“The thing is,” Hoshi cuts her off, leaning on the counter, showing a feigned, saddest expression on his face. “Mingyu was bullying me,” he sighs. The said guy promptly sputters a series of denials. “And this is my first time here. I think I deserve a discount for the bad customer service, don’t you think?”

Y/n lets out a scandalized gasp, giving Mingyu a nasty, chiding glare for treating their customer poorly, even if they’re ‘friends.’ “Then you have my approval!” She declares, jabbing a proud thumb at her own chin. “Don’t worry! I’ll tell boss about the discount later! Now, please pick any flavors!”Hoshi’s mouth twitches as a bubble of laughter arises from his chest. This kid is so gullible, so genuine, so interesting. He almost feels bad for tricking him.Mingyu kicks Y/n’s legs, “Idiot! Can’t you see that he’s tricking you?!”

When y/n shoots a puzzled look at Hoshi, Hoshi’s laughter breaks free from his mouth. In return, he gets a bristling y/n who goes out of her way to be on the other side of the counter just to shake Hoshi’s collar and send him colorful insults. Not the most professional thing an employee should do to a customer, but it’s worth for Hoshi’s own entertainment.In the end, Hoshi’s the one who gets kicked out of the shop before he causes more commotions.

Hoshi comes back at Mingyu’s next shift, mentally convincing himself that he’s here to annoy the hell out of the hipster, not because Mingyu accidentally reveals the fact that y/n has the same schedule with him.Yeah, right.

He peeks over the big windows, and hesitates. The shop is more crowded than his last visit, as expected from weekends. It’s mostly filled with couples and giggling high school girls. Hoshi decides to sit on the unoccupied outdoor seats by the window, waiting for the beeline to lessen.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the patrons to decrease. By the time he enters the shop, the jingle of the doorbell earns him an automatic response from y/n who’s not even looking at the door. “Welcome to—“ she glances at Hoshi, then frowns. “—oh, it’s you.”

“Oh? Do I see another bad customer service?” Hoshi smirks, strutting closer the counter.

“I’ll show you customer service,” Mingyu threatens, glowering at him.

Hoshi holds up his hands in defense, grinning, “easy there, ‘Mingyu”

“So, are you going to order, Kwon Soonyoung?” Y/n squints at him in suspicion. Pushing aside his inner glee of noticing a mundane detail such as Y/n remembering his full name, Hoshi ponders of giving her an honest reply or not. Will they kick him out once again if he admits that he can barely handle sweet things?

“Hoshi?” Y/n’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his previous scorn is replaced with an owlish blinking. It makes Kazuya more aware of how y/n’s long eyelashes brush her cheeks whenever she closes her eyelids for a brief second.Pretty.“Hoshi!”Hoshi coughs and answers distractedly. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll order something.”

Mingyu stares at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, but it’s more like that he can’t seem to grasp that Hoshi, of all people, agrees to order something sweet.

“You sound uncertain, but worry not! The ice cream here will change your mind,” Y/n chirps with an eye smile. Hoshi can feel a thousand of cupid arrows piercing through his fragile, gay heart.

“Right, because Hoshi absolutely loves ice cream,” Mingyu mutters under his breath beside his co-worker with a blatant sarcastic tone.Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it, much to Hoshi’s relief.

“So...” Hoshi drawls, scrutinizing the menu near the cash register. “Do you have a flavor that isn’t too...” he grimaces at the next word, “sweet?”

“That’s impossible, go home.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mingyu.”

“I can recommend you some,” Y/n replies, ignoring Mingyu and Hoshi’s glaring contest. “We have wasabi flavor, bitter melon flavor—“

“Some extreme recommendations you have there,” Hoshi sweatdrops.

“Hey! They taste fine, I guess,” Y/n looks hesitant herself. Hoshi wonders if the girl even understands basic marketing strategies—she could’ve at least pretended to be confident with her promotion. “I mean, I’m sure they’re better than natto flavored ice cream or anything.”

“You hate natto?” Hoshi smiles in amusement, inwardly happy to know one fact about Y/n.

“I despise it!” Y/n huffs, not even bothering to conceal her disgust. “Anyway! If you’re not interested with our out-of-the-world flavors, maybe you’d love our triple shot espresso ice cream! If you’re still not convinced, we still have a variety of diet frozen yogurts that are guaranteed to be low-sugar!”Hoshi hums at the mention of anything caffeine-related, “triple shot espresso ice cream doesn’t sound bad. Get me the smallest cup, y/n.”

“Roger!” Y/n beams, giving a military salute before she busies herself with Hoshi’s order. Her moves behind the counter are swift, practiced, and surprisingly not clumsy. Her hips sway a little to the beat of the music—whose great idea it is to play a suggestive jazz music at a fucking ice cream shop in Saturday afternoon?—but Hoshi’s not really complaining. In fact, he enjoys the show a bit too much; he doesn’t even realize that he’s been propping one arm on the counter to support his chin while watching y/n with a mushy smile.“Wipe that disgusting expression off your face,” Mingyu comments, unimpressed.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? As if I could overlook someone who looks like they’re seconds away from jumping my co-worker in public!” Mingyu hisses this time, still considerate enough to lower his volume.“Don’t worry, I’ll do that in private,” Hoshi winks.

“That’s not what I—“

“Do you want any additional toppings, Hoshi?” Y/n unintentionally interrupts their bickering. She’s now holding a small paper cup of a coffee-colored ice cream, head slightly to the side in an adorable manner, waiting for Hoshi’s response.

Although Hoshi’s brain is already short-circuited due to the amount of metaphorical sweetness that Y/n radiates, he still manages to croak out a reply of “almonds are fine”, in hoping that if the ice cream is still too sweet for his liking, the almonds would be able to balance the sugar.

Mingyu handles the payment without initiating any arguments with Hoshi for once, probably wanting to speed up the process of Hoshi leaving the shop. Either way, Hoshi has to leave indeed. He has other things to do, too.

“Thank you for purchasing, please come again~” come a chorus of synchronized phrase from Mingyu and Y/n; the former sounding bored and forced, while the latter sounding more cheerful.“I will,” Hoshi retorts jocosely, then flicks his gaze over Y/n, “if Y/n calls me her oppa, too.”

“Okay, Hoshi-oppa,” y/n breathes out without missing a beat. Her face instantly bursts into a myriad shades of red, complemented by a small, shy smile etched on her lips, and-Hoshi suddenly thinks he has a severe case of heart palpitations.

He inhales sharply, and turns his heels towards the door. “It’s decided, then,” he chuckles over his shoulder, giving his last smirk towards y/n, and exits the shop.

(He eats his ice cream on the way to his apartment and is genuinely surprised at the rich taste of coffee instead of sugar.It adds one more reason to visit the shop again.)

 Hoshi’s next visit includes an unwanted guest, much to Hoshi’s distaste.

For a better term, he was following Hoshi in secret. Usually, Hoshi would easily sense something behind his back, but the particular street that the ice cream shop is located at is always busy. It’s to be expected from a street that connects commercial, academic and several residential buildings. That being said, the crowd of people makes it hard for Hoshi to notice whether someone is following him or not.In the end, Jun makes his presence known loudly by the time he enters the shop.

“Oi, Hoshi! You refused to hang out with me just to buy some ice cream?!” he stomps his foot on the ground. “Wait, I thought you don’t like ice—“

Hoshi, who’s currently leaning on the counter right in front of Y/n, automatically massages the bridge of his nose and quickly interjects the purple haired before he spouts something unnecessary. “Jun, did you really follow me all the way here?”

“Does it matter?” the purple haired shrugs, sticking his nose up in the air. “I’m here now. That’s what you get from ditching me.”

Hoshi sighs in exasperation, “I did not ditch you. I told you to reschedule our hang out.”

“Same thing,” Jun scoffs stubbornly.

Mingyu bashes his forehead on the counter, emitting a depressed aura all over the shop. “Great. There goes all of my peace at work.”

“Oh, Mingyu! Fancy meeting you here!” Jun greets with a grin. “So you’re the reason why Hoshi’s here?”

“No,” both Mingyu and Hoshi say flatly.

“Um, are you going to order?” Y/n, who’s been observing the situation, speaks up, attracting a pair of black orbs towards him. Then, Jun regards Hoshi and Y/n, back and forth, in a thoughtful manner.

“Oh ho? I see now,” he grins wickedly, elbowing Hoshi to the side and takes over his place, resulting in the dancer stumbling and hitting the glass display of ice cream. Paying no attention to Hoshi’s heated glare, Jun leans over the counter and brings his face closer to Y/n. “You’re pretty cute, I guess. Hoshi has a good taste.”Y/n makes a choking noise from her throat, and Hoshi’s left eye twitches.

“Who the heck are you?” Y/n scrunches her nose, taking one step backwards defensively.

“Wen Junhui, but you can call me darling,” Jun smiles flirtatiously. Y/n only stares back with a palpable discomfort on her face.

“...Then, are you going to order?” She repeats hesitantly.

“Sure. As long as you’re included as the bonus.”

“Uh,” y/n frowns deeper. “May I know the flavor of your choice?”

“Anything would do,” Jun answers, “but if you were an ice cream, you’d be my favorite flavor.”

“What?”

“And I know you’d like me too,” jun then lowers his voice into a whisper, like he’s going to tell the world’s deepest secret, “because I have an 8” popsicle down there.”

Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, finding the whole situation amusing and ridiculous. Any other day, Hoshi would, too, but right now, he only feels a second-hand embarassment from Jun’s abhorrent pick-up lines. Even y/n looks utterly unimpressed by Jun’s flirting.

“Alright, Jun, that’s enough,” Hoshi interjects impatiently. “No one wants to know about your nonexistent 8” popsicle dick.”Mingyu laughs louder.

“Tch, you’re no fun, Hoshi,” Jun glares at him childishly, then whirls his body towards Y/n crossing his arms in his usual bossy manner. “Fine, I’ll order something. Get me a big cup of butterscotch and vanilla ice cream with marshmallows and oreos on top.”

“...Coming right up,” slightly taken aback by the change of attitude, y/n mutters and wordlessly scoops the ice cream into the cup, while Hoshi is inwardly cringing from the amount of sugar Jun’s order has.

The purple haired pays and finally leaves the shop, not before gesturing a V-sign to his eyes and then to Hoshi’s—indicating that their conversation isn’t over.

Hoshi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be discussed in the first place,” he mumbles under his breath. Jun dragged himself into this situation. Then again, Hoshi’s known Jun long enough to tell that the purple haired wasn’t seriously flirting with Y/n. The dancer could properly make his fangirls swoon if he wanted to.

Looking back to his prior act, however... it’s almost as if he was testing Hoshi, because his eyes were holding a familiar knowing gleam—the exact glint in Mingyu ’s eyes when Hoshi first met y/n.

“But seriously, who is he?!” Y/n fumes. “I can’t believe he made a dick joke straight to my face!”

“He’s Hoshi’s ex,” Mingyu grins, nudging

y/n with his elbow. The younger blanches, mouth gaping upon hearing the information.

“Yup, and I’m totally dating you, Mingyu,” Hoshi rolls his eyes.

“R-really?!” Y/n’s eyes grow as wide as a saucer. Hoshi bites back a grin, almost forgetting how gullible Y/n is.

“Relax, we’re lying,” he snorts. “Can I take my order now?”

“Oh, right!” Y/n straightens her back, although she doesn’t seem to be convinced by Hoshi’s reassurance.

Hoshi selects the exact menu he ordered on his last visit, although this time he chooses a cone rather than a paper cup. He also makes a mental note to try another variety of topping next time.

“You two looks close,” y/n comments all of a sudden as she works behind the counter. It doesn’t take a genius to know who Y/n is talking about.“Jun’s my childhood friend,” Hoshi

smiles, quirking an eyebrow at Y/n’s pout. She’s sulking, for some unknown reason, albeit Hoshi has a silly, vague (and hopeful) idea of it. “Rest assured, there’s nothing between us,” Hoshi continues, watching how Y/n subtly relaxes her shoulders. “That goes for me and Mingyu, too,” she adds as an afterthought. Mingyu has never nodded so aggresively.

“That explains why you guys are on a first name basis,” Y/n says abashedly, avoiding Hoshi’s gaze. “B-but! Your relationship is none of my business, of course! This

l/n y/n was just curious, please forgive me for prying!”

Still blushing, she shoves the cone under Hoshi’s nose. Hoshi chuckles and takes it, purposely brushing their fingers together, deepening y/n’s blush. Satisfaction sprouts inside his chest—even without any cheesy pick-up lines, y/n’s naturally a blushing mess around him.Adorable.

“This is sickening to watch,” Mingyu groans, “now pay up, bastard.”

Out of reflex, Hoshi gives him another snide remarks about bad customer service (again), to which Mingyu retaliates with another empty threats.

The doorbell jingles as two chatting customers enter the shop, and at the same time, it’s Hoshi’s cue to leave. He looks back at Y/n, who’s unexpectedly staring at him in silence, and grins cheekily when Y/n flinches due to being caught.“See you next time,” Hoshi says in soft tone, before he playfully boops y/n’s on the nose.

Y/n doesn’t—can’t—reply because she has to serve the next customers, but she manages to send a meek smile towards Hoshi’s direction.

Fuck, Hoshi thinks later, as he ambles back to his place. He can’t believe he finally had the balls to nose boop y/n. He can’t erase y/n’s blushing face from his mind. He can’t stop smiling giddily right now—passersby are probably whispering about him, but he couldn’t care less.All he cares is that he’s honestly in some deep shit.

~~~~~~

 Hoshi spends the next few weeks coming to the ice cream shop. He sometimes misses a day or two, partially due to being exhausted by dancing practice or just college in general. Another reason is because he’s fed up with eating ice cream (no matter how much he’s come to tolerate it a little ever since coming to the shop) and his diet as an athlete doesn’t allow him to overeat anything sweet. Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t have other excuses to see Y/n; visiting the shop frequently without buying anything would be weird. Though, as days go by, he becomes more creative with his orders, like switching to low-sugar frozen yogurts or an iced Americano float (with the float being removed, much to Y/n’s confusion). Soon, he also finds out the existence of food—such as toasts and grilled sausages—in the shop’s menu.(“You need to stop ogling at Y/n and pay attention to our menu instead,” Mingyu once chastised wryly.)

Regardless, Hoshi enjoys most of his visits. Y/n is a fun person to talk to; Hoshi is often swayed by her personality and ends up being more talkative than he actually is, earning a frown from Mingyu. Later, Y/n reveals that she’s a dancer at Hoshi and Mingyu’s rival college, and she has jokingly asked Hoshi several times to dance against her.Hoshi’s never given an outright answer, however. As much as he wants to meet up with Y/n outside of the shop, he wants it as a date.

And that’s where the problem lies. He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up. He could ask Y/n in the shop, right beside Mingyu, but getting rejected in public would be awkward. In the end, that thought is always buried to the back of his mind.

Today is no different. Hoshi visits the the shop again—after being absent for a week prior—with no intentions of bringing up the date. As usual, he only wants to see the dancer. Even before stepping his feet inside, his heart thumps in anticipation to Y/n’s welcoming smile. So, as soon as he pushes the door open only to notice the absence of one of the workers behind the counters, his face falls.

“Asshole, I should’ve gotten offended of how disappointed your face is when you saw me instead of Y/n,” Mingyu scowls, to which Hoshi grins sheepishly. “She’s gonna be late today. I know what you’re thinking—she’s fine. There aren’t any dangerous emergencies or something like that, calm down.”

“I am calm,” Hoshi replies, burying his hands into his pockets. “I know she’s gonna be fine. She has such a caring co-worker after all,” he smirks at Kuramochi, who huffs in slight embarassment.

“Shut up. Who knows what stupid thing she’s gonna do,” the hipster’s lips curl downwards, an attempt to hold back his smile. “Anyway, since she’s not here yet, I can finally interrogate you.”

“What is there to interrogate?”

“What is y/n to you?” Mingyu ignores his words, giving him a pointed look instead. “If you’re only playing with her, Hoshi, I swear – “

“Oi, can’t you trust me a little?” Hoshi sweatdrops. “Do I look like some kind of heartthrob? You know me better than that, ‘Mingyu.”

“With your face, it’s easy to become one.”

“Very flattering.”

“Anyway, I’m being fucking serious right now,” Mingyu glowers at the dancer solemnly. “Tell me what you want from her.”

Hoshi eventually sighs, and briefly scans the whole shop. Luckily, it’s one of the weekdays, so there aren’t many customers inside. Besides, they’re too engrossed in their conversations or electronical devices to eavesdrop on Hoshi and Mingyu.

“Look, I don’t want anything from her,” Hoshi begins slowly, but he’s only rewarded with a skeptical look from Mingyu. “Okay, maybe I’ve been meaning to ask her on a date, but—“ he narrows his eyes at the hipster. “Wait, she’s single, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be asking that?” Mingyu purses his lips into a thin line.

“Oh, Hoshi, you’re here!”

Both the hipster and the dancer whip their head alarmingly to the familiar voice. There stands y/n with her trademark grin, her bag slung around her shoulder. Panic blossoms inside of Hoshi’s chest—he didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell, and judging from Mingyu’s startled response, he didn’t, too. They don’t know how long has the dancer been standing there. It’d be bad if Y/n managed to hear their conversation.

So, Hoshi studies y/n’s facial expression, searching for something, but the dancer only looks perplexed—probably due to Hoshi’s sudden stillness.

“Hoshi?” Y/n blinks up at him, making Hoshi more conscious of their height difference. Eyes trailing down to her neck, the pastel-colored collar of the shop’s uniform peeks out of her oversized sweater that falls until her mid-thigh, with the sleeves covering up her whole hands.

Sweater paws, Hoshi’s mind shuts down as tiny Hoshi’s inside his brain run in circles, screaming “ABORT! ABORT!” with high-pitched voices. She’s fucking wearing sweater paws.

“Hoshi-oppa!” Y/n frowns, successfully drawing Hoshi’s attention. “Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me.”

“Right, sorry,” the dancer mutters as he watches Y/n disappearing into the back room, before she shows up again without her sweater while tying the apron on her lower back.

“I see that you haven’t ordered something!” Y/n grins brightly, this time placing both of her hands on her hips. “So, what are you here for today, Hoshi?”

Hoshi, still distracted, racks his brain to all of the menu he’s ordered in the past. Triple shots espresso ice cream with almonds. Iced americano float, but without the float. Wasabi ice cream because he was feeling adventurous. Hazelnut spread and sliced banana on toast—

No, that’s not What hoshi wants all of this time. He wants—

“You,” he blurts out, mumbling, unaware of Mingyu choking in the background. However, when he notices the lack of response from the dancer, the haze in his brain suddenly dissipates, and everything becomes crystal clear again. “Shit, I mean—“

“Okay,” Y/n says, e/c orbs shyly peeking from underneath her lashes towards Hoshi.

“I was—huh, what?” Hoshi pauses, dumbfounded.

“I said okay,” Y/n averts her eyes, playing with the hem of her apron. “You can have me.”

Hoshi stares and stares, trying to process Y/n’s affirmation. That sounds too suggestive—too good to be true. Maybe his brain is tricking him. Maybe this is only a scene that he unconsciously creates inside his mind which is brought to life in a form of hallucination.

But when Y/n starts to fidget under his gaze, Hoshi lets his brain register the fact that this is, indeed, a reality.

As the gears inside him begin to work again, Hoshi doesn’t pass the chance to poke some fun at Y/n’s answer which basically serves as a free teasing material for Hoshi to use.

“Oh? How bold,” he then comments, smirking in satisfaction as he observes how realization gradually dawns on Y/n’s face.

“I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!” the dancer exclaims defensively, her cheeks now tainted with red. “Y-you were the one who blurted out weird things in the first place!”

“Sorry, sorry~” Hoshi grins unapologetically, to which Y/n pouts at. “But, as tempting as it sounds, you should let me take you on a date first, y’know,” he continues, his playful grin faltering a little due to slight nervousness.

To his relief, Y/n utters a timid “okay” and nods, a tint of pink still decorating her cheeks. At that, Hoshi doesn’t bother to hide the ever-growing smile on his lips and an excited glance to Mingyu who’s pretending to read a magazine and acting all disinterested, albeit the small curl on the corner of his mouth tells otherwise.

The next thing Hoshi knows is him exchanging phone numbers with the dancer and discussing their date in a short stretch of time due to the arrival of a group of customers.

Hoshi doesn’t get any ice cream that day, but he does get something—someone—sweeter in return.

 ~Three months later~

 Hoshi sips on his hot, black coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his glasses. He steps aside when a patron comes out of the shop hurriedly, but he manages to halt the door from closing with his right knee. Hoshi then opens the door big enough for his body to get inside as the familiar chime of the doorbell greets his ears. The shop is silent, empty without customers, highly caused by the “CLOSED” sign on the door with a red, thick font.“I’m sorry, we’re already closed—“ Y/n says from Hoshi’s left side while stacking some brochures. When she finally turns her head towards the door, a beatific smile appears on her face. “Oh! Hoshi.”

Hoshi smiles back, placing his coffee on the counter and leans towards Y/n, to which the latter eagerly closes the gap between their mouths. They share a quick kiss as a greeting, before Hoshi withdraws slightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing over

y/n’s. He steals one or two more kisses, just because he can’t help himself.

“Hi to you too,” Y/n whispers, giggling. Hoshi cradles his lover’s cheeks with one of his palms, prompting Y/n to nuzzle against it. From here, he can also make out Y/n’s e/c eyes twinkling in delight—so captivating and blinding that it stupefies him.

“For someone who’s on her last day of work, you sure look happy,” Hoshi comments, arching an amused brow.

“I am happy!” Y/n replies, pulling away fully to finish her tidying duty. She moves swiftly behind the counters, the sole of her shoes creating noisy sounds against the tiled floor. “But not in a way you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Hoshi says, bringing the paper cup of his half-drunk coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I like this job,” Y/n confesses, finishing her work and untying her apron. “My co-workers are nice, and my boss is generous to give me discounted ice cream.”

“I think the latter plays a bigger part,” Hoshi teases, knowing Y/n’s sweet tooth.

“Shut up,” the dancer juts her tongue out. “Meeting you here is what makes this job more special,” Y/n casually states, offering a smug smirk at Hoshi’s flabbergasted expression.

“Wow, Y/n,” he breathes out, before whistling with a shake of head. “You sure become bolder with your words nowadays.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”Y/n questions, pupils turning cat-like.Hoshi hums. “Well, you used to blush so much around me—“

“That’s – “ as if on cue, red creeps up to y/n’s cheek. “That’s because you always gave me those kind of eyes and used that kind of voice—!”

“What about now?”hoshi smirks, revelling in the way Y/n gets all worked up because of him. A nasty personality he has, indeed.

“Ugh, I’m not gonna talk about it!” the dancer scrunches her nose, a habit that Hoshi’s taken to notice whenever Y/n is frustrated. “Anyway! I was talking why I feel happy to quit work! It’s because I can spend more time with you now!”If Hoshi’s heart pulsates rapidly due to the abrupt swarm of affections in his veins, he does a great job of hiding it. “The real reason why you quit is because of the upcoming dancer season. We’d still be busy, either way,” he points out instead.

“Must you be so pessimistic, Hoshi?” Y/n pouts, looking a little dejected. Hoshi exhales guiltily.

“My bad,” he chuckles, ruffling the crown of Y/n’s head. “You know that I’d always try to make time for you, right, Y/n?”

“Of course you do, you whipped asshole. Only you would come to a shop that sells something you dislike.”

“Mingyu-oppa!” Y/n jumps due to

Mingyu’s unannounced appearance from the back room, before gawking at his revelation. “Wait, what? Does Hoshi not like ice cream?”

“Ask him yourself,” Mingyu shrugs.

Y/n immediately whirls towards Hoshi, displaying her best puppy face to lure the truth out of her boyfriend. And concede Hoshi does, not before shooting daggers at a snickering Mingyu.

“Yes, y/n, I don’t eat much sweets. You happy now?” he admits reluctantly, tugging the collar of his jacket in embarassment.

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” Sawamura bounces on her feet. “After all of this time, you didn’t come here for the ice cream?!”

Hoshi sighs, not before downing the remnant of his coffee and throwing it in the nearest trash bin. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s not like I exactly loathe ice cream, I just can’t handle it if it’s too sweet—“Y/n, however, wastes no time to approach Hoshi on the other side of the counter, circling her arms around Hoshi’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.

The hipster groans in agony, covering his face with his right palm. “This isn’t the outcome that I wanted,” he bemoans, lamenting in his misery.

Hoshi laughs nasally, eyes closing in pure mirth as Y/n continues to pepper kisses on his face. It eggs Mingyu even more as he seethes in irritation.“Okay, stop it, Y/n! Why the fuck are you so pleased at the idea of Hoshi trying to get himself diabetes for you?”

“Oi, that’s too exaggerating, don’t you think?” Hoshi sweatdrops.

Y/n ends her ministration and frowns at Mingyu. “But Mingyu-oppa! If I were in Hoshi’s shoes, I’d do the same! But currently he’s not working in a natto-based restaurant or something, so I shall reward his bravery in some other way!”

“Don’t do it here,” Mingyu snaps, “I’ve cleaned and locked all shit in the back room while you were busy with that idiot. Grab your bag and sweater and just go home.”Teary-eyed, Y/n beams brightly, “I express my sincerest gratitude for you,

Mingyu-oppa!” She exclaims, before dashing to the back room to collect her belongings.“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu waves her off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s my last day too, figures I’d do more than usual.”

“Aw, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you care for her, ‘Mingyu,” Hoshi coos.

“And you!” Mingyu then throws the dancer a resentful look. “You owe me for all of the time you’ve made me into a fucking thirdwheel, bastard!”

At that moment, Y/n has come back, already clad in her warm, oversized sweater, and proceeds to stand next to Hoshi. That’s when an idea strikes him.

“Thirdwheel?” Hoshi asks, tilting his head at Mingyu in a faux innocuousness. He pulls his unsuspecting girlfriend closer by the waist, to which Y/n lets out a soft gasp. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Mingyu croaks out, widening his eyes when Hoshi lowers his head to Y/n’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you – shit, don’t you two dare making out again – give me a damn break, I’m trying to close the shop here! If you two don’t stop right now, I’m gonna kick out both of you with a fucking broom – oi, did you hear me?! Alright, for fuck’s sake, Y/n, save the moan for later and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE—“

[mermaidcashton]

if i knew you were comin’

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: ashton irwin/reader, baker AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 3344 warnings: swearing a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘if i knew you were comin' i'd've baked a cake’ by eileen barton  if i knew you were comin’ ***

It would have been a real cliché had it been pouring with rain, the first time you saw him. If an unexpected thunderstorm in June had sent you into the little hipster bakery by necessity, a beacon of shelter in the form of a black & white sign that said ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. As it was, you were simply hungry in the rich sunshine, miles from home, and a sucker for bagels. That wasn’t very rom-com, really. 

The cliché came in when you saw him for the first time; laugh bright on his face, flour in his pillar box red hair. You felt every love-at-first-sight trope possible in that moment; brass band playing, lightning striking, arrows piercing. 

But it was raining now - slowly but with determination from the grey September sky - and you felt it, still.

***

The old fashioned bell above the heavy door rang out as you pushed your way into the bakery, immediately feeling enveloped in warmth. You shook off the excess water pooling on your umbrella out of the open door before you let it close as gently as possible behind you, spinning back around to assess the scene before you.

The shop was an assault on the senses every time you visited; the smell of 50 different baked goods intermingling and somehow achieving a harmony in your nose, the sound of the eclectic playlist they kept adding to filling the shop, and the assault on the eyes came in the form of bright hanging lights, extensive art on the walls, and the staff themselves.  

“Hello, you! Get in here; it’s horrible out there!”

You smiled widely, genuinely, at the greeting. “Hey, Calum! How are you?” You replied, stepping up to the counter. Calum ran his hand over his very short blonde hair with a smile that you were sure accounted for at least 25% of their sales. Not that you’d know; only one of the co-owners kept you spending more than you could really afford on focaccia bread, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Can’t complain, real-well, actually, I can,” Calum changed his mind mid-sentence, face growing indignant. “Ash went to drop the banking off at Natwest 30 minutes ago, and Luke was due 5 minutes before you walked in, and I’m dying for a piss, and I-” The bell above the door shook like a hurricane had just come through the door, and in the form of a 6’2” blonde streak of limbs, it kind of had. “Sorry, sorry, I’m he-woah!” Luke skidded across the shiny white floor on his damp black Converse, windmilling his long arms until he caught one of only three tables in the place, and brought himself to a jolting stop. 

Calum rolled his eyes. “This fucken’ guy.” He muttered, but you could see the fondness painted all over his golden brown face. “Luke, I need to pee; look after our best customer for me!” Calum bolted out from behind the counter, showing off his black tank top and pinstriped trousers as he pulled his black branded apron off on his way to the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ across the shop. You could hear his Doc Martens squeaking on the tiles as he disappeared through the door and Luke took his place behind the counter, chucking his backpack through the archway that attached the shop to the bakery’s kitchen.  “Ooh, Ashton won’t like finding your backpack in his kitchen when he gets back!” You tease, leaning onto the ledge that separates you from Luke. The absent baker was very particular about his immaculate commercial kitchen and everything in it, and you knew something would definitely be said about the fact that Luke’s wet backpack was now lying on the floor by the ovens. Calum had once told you about a time he had simply moved Ashton’s sourdough starter across the kitchen, and the incident that had followed (and lasted for three days). “Ooh, won’t he!” Luke cooed, tying his own D&S Bakehouse apron with a messy bow on his stomach. “You’d know, being our resident Ashton expert and all.” You felt the flush begin to bloom on your cheeks before you saw it reflected in Luke’s stupid stainless steel coffee machine. You stuck your chin out as defiantly as possible. “I don’t know what that means, and I also don’t care. I’d like a Flat White, please, barista!”  Luke clutched his chest with a large hand, gasping dramatically. “So harsh! My own job title! You missed ‘Retail Assistant’ and ‘Shop Hunk’, but I’ll forgive you because I know you’re having Ashton withdrawals right now. Haven’t seen you since last week, kiddo!” Opting to ignore his needling about the Ashton situation, you set your own backpack on the floor as you let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a bit chaotic this week. But I said I’d try and come by today, and I can’t live without Calum’s doughnuts much longer, so here I am.” “Yeah, that’s definitely what you can’t live without.” Luke snorted, filling the portafilter with coffee grounds. The staff door swung open before you could respond, Calum sailing back into the bakery. “Does he come with an off switch?” You groaned, shaking your head at the bottle blonde as he laughed and groaned with you. “God, if he did, I’d use it so often he’d never be ‘on’.” “You love me, they love me, everybody loves me!” Luke sang at volume as the coffee machine began to grind and whir. Calum rolled his eyes as he shut the door to the counter. “The girls from the high school down the street love you, I’ll give you that, but that’s about it.”   “The boys, too.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, tapping the used coffee grounds into the bin with a flourish. You couldn’t help but giggle; you’d grown so fond of Luke and Calum in the three months you’d been visiting the bakery that you considered them friends. And as you started examining the case in front of you, filled with the most delicious looking cakes, pastries and doughnuts you’d ever seen, you thought that surely friends with access to coffee and baked goods were the best friends to have. “What are you thinking, love?” Calum asked, watching your eyes flick between peanut butter brownies and cinnamon rolls.  “I don’t know; everything always looks so good!” You whined. “I think I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet, though.” “I’m right here, baby!” Luke trilled as he placed a steaming cup on the counter, looking very pleased with himself. “Do I need to tell Michael about this flirty behaviour, Luke?” Calum teased. Luke shrugged, completely nonplussed. “If you want. He’s so hot when he gets jealous.” Calum rolled his eyes again as he made his way into the kitchen. “Luke, move your backpack before Ash gets back unless you want to get bollocked!” He called over his shoulder. “Uh oh, too late.” Luke groaned, looking past you through the glass of the shop front, moments before the shop bell sounded out for a third time. You would definitely play it cool and not turn around if it was anyone but Ashton; you swear, this man is actually magnetic. The Hall & Oates’ song coming from the speakers seems to slow down as he comes into your line of sight, like in every movie you’ve ever seen with a leading man half as gorgeous as this one. Ashton was wearing his signature black boots and ripped jeans, with a white tank top and the leather jacket that you were sure would smell just like him; flour, grapefruit, sandalwood and whatever he used to put his hair into any of the styles that drove you so crazy. Today he had that one styled curl falling onto his face, and right now it was soaked and sending a trail of water down to drop from his chiseled jaw.  “You took your time, bread boy.” Calum called from the kitchen, doing Luke a solid of hiding his backpack underneath the furthermost kitchen counter as he did. Ashton huffed out half a laugh, running both hands through his wet hair and bending forward to shake it off as much as he could. “I don’t even only bake bread! Why do you insist on calling me that? Especially in front of my favourite customer.”  Despite knowing that you were currently the only customer in the bakery, your brain immediately began questioning whether or not he was referring to you. Then, he straightened up with his arms high, hands slicking his red hair back, and looked straight at you with unwavering eye contact. “Hey.”  That one word, combined with those eyes and him looking like he was in 2020’s answer to a Whitesnake video dragged your heart straight into your throat.  “Hey.” You echoed, hoping you were imagining the slightly breathless quality to your voice. Ashton’s serious-supermodel face broke into his brightest smile - seemingly just for you - before he began to stride past you to head behind the counter, shrugging his wet jacket off as he went. “I see you’re sorted with a drink; what have you chosen to eat? Or is this a flying visit?” “I was just doing my usual, actually.” You replied, dragging your eyes away from the tattoos on his arms to glance back down at the many glass cases of treats. “Struggling to decide?” Ashton teased lightly, tying his apron strings into a bow at his waist. You giggled, feeling inordinately pleased that he knew exactly what you meant. “Well, my lattices should be cool by now. Cal?” Ashton called into the kitchen, where the sound of stand mixers could now be heard. You hadn’t even noticed Calum leaving the shop to bake in the back. As you realised Luke was also nowhere to be seen, the assistants’ head appeared from the side of the archway. “Calum says he is a very busy man and he thought you had things under control out here.” You frowned slightly, not understanding the inflection the blonde had put on ‘under control’. Must be a private joke; one that made Ashton steadily flush down his neck. “Shut up, Luke! I just want the top tray on the cooling rack by the main pantry, please.” Luke tapped his head with two fingers in an ‘aye aye, Captain’ gesture and momentarily vanished from view. Ashton cleared his throat, directing his words back to you. “I thought you said you were going to try and come by today. I made Cherry & Custard Lattices earlier; you love cherry, right?” You didn’t know what to say, so opted to just stare back at Ashton in surprise until you saw doubt in his eyes. “Yes! I did, say that, and I do - love cherry. You remembered that?” The smile on your face felt like it was spread impossibly wide, over your cheeks and beyond.  “Of course! I’m glad you’re here, actually…” “Here you go!” Luke said, sounding almost gleeful as he put the tray of pastries on the worktop behind Ashton. Normally, you would expect Luke to arrange them in a space in one of the cabinets and carefully handwrite a little sign for them, but not today, apparently. He was already taking strides back to the kitchen to help Calum, throwing you both a look over his shoulder that was definitely cheeky. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Ashton went so unbelievably red that it made his flush from before look like his natural skin tone. For lack of something to do with yourself in a confusing, slightly awkward situation that you didn’t fully understand, you picked up the coffee Luke had made for you and took a small sip. Ashton took a breath and seemed to steel himself for something. “I’ve got something to ask you.” He cocked his head slightly to one side before taking a slightly wistful tone. “Do you remember the day we met?” *** You looked up at the stark sign above the world’s most appetising window display. ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. It was a little after your usual lunchtime and you were starving. You’d never been to this place before, but you could see slices of puff pastry topped with everything you could imagine; asparagus, pesto, goats cheese, tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms - all topped with melted cheese, so that was that. You made your way through the glossy black door into the bakery, and were struck by how cool it looked inside. The main walls were exposed brick painted white, covered with a broad range of paintings, posters, sketches, photographs and signs. Black boards covered in white chalk writing detailing baked goods and hot drinks, opening hours and little doodles. Shelves with all manner of trinkets and decorations adorned any parts of the walls that there wasn’t something else. Sleek white tiles covered the floor, counters and the walls leading off to the restrooms and a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. There were ferns and succulents dotted around the place, and recycled glass bottles on a few black cafe tables with a single red rose in each. There were cases and displays of every kind of baked good you could imagine at the counter, running along the windows, and high above the worktops behind the counter. Stevie Wonder segued into Fleetwood Mac over the speakers in the corners,audible above the babble of noise of the customers already in the bakery.  A couple at the farthest table were tucking into big slices of two of the most incredible looking cakes you had ever seen in your life. At the till, a girl with a high ponytail and tiny denim shorts was taking a branded pastry box from a tall, skinny-but-somehow-broad guy. Another man with a black hat pulled low on his head brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his eyes where he sat at one of the tables opposite the counter. He shot the staff member a beaming smile and a thumbs up, then returned his attention to the laptop open on his table. You eagerly made your way forward as the girl with the ponytail began to exit the shop. “Hi! I’m Luke, welcome to Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. What can I get for you?” The worker - Luke - greeted you enthusiastically with a toothy smile. His smile faltered slightly when you asked for an iced coffee to go with your lunch, but before you could think about it, he sprang into action as a second man appeared from an archway beside him, mid laugh. You divert your attention to the newcomer and your heart skips way more than a beat. He was, without question, the most beautiful human you had ever seen in your life. He was tall - though not as tall as Luke, but twice as broad. The muscles in his arms bulged through his t-shirt, and you could see tattoos on his arms and wrists. His hair was in a perfect quiff, and the brightest shade of red you could imagine. You noticed what appeared to be flour speckled across the top of it, and melted slightly more. His face was a set of perfect, sharp angles contrasting with the soft dimples in his cheeks as he laughed. You had never been so aware of every molecule of your own body. You felt tingly and numb and on high alert all at once. The urge to lick your lips was suddenly overwhelming. “How are you getting on, Luke? Did I hear an iced coffee order over Calum’s shenanigans back there?” His voice was like hearing a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in ages but always loved. Luke shook his head and played it cool, whilst the love of your life turned to you with a warm smile. “It’s Luke’s first day! Go easy on him. How is he doing?”  “Ashton! I know exactly what I am doing!” Luke sniffed, opening a cabinet door that turns out to be a freezer drawer and scooping ice with confidence. Ashton giggled again and held his hands up in surrender, shooting you another smile before heading around Luke and out onto the bakery floor. You unconsciously followed him with your eyes, across the room to the window cabinets where he began making adjustments to the display. He had to bend and lean to reach the very front, and after allowing yourself a few seconds to stare at his ass in tight, black jeans, you came to your senses and reluctantly diverted your eyes back to the counter. Luke leant conspiratorially towards the counter and you unconsciously mirrored his movement before he began to whisper to you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He laughed as he straightened back up and steadied the coffee cup in his hand before continuing in an airy, cheerful voice. “I almost never do!” “I’m sure it’ll be great, don’t worry!” You reassured, casting an eye over the blender Luke was working with now. You were sure it would be. Probably. Your eyes traced the white printed branding that adorned the apron on Luke’s chest; a traditional tattoo style dagger and snake.  “Why Dagger & Snake?” “Oh, that’s a question for one of the bossmen! Ashton!” Luke called across the shop. “Yeah?” You jumped at the voice that came from right behind you, spinning around and coming face to face with Ashton wiping his hands on his apron. “Sorry!” Ashton apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as you took in just how hazel his eyes were. You felt like you’d just walked up a flight of 200 stairs. “The lady would like to know why you and Cal named this place Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. Oh, balls.” Something hit the floor behind you, but you paid it no mind as Ashton’s face lit up. “They go together, to mean a bunch of stuff, right? Kept seeing them at tattoo shops, together. They can symbolise healing, the Roman god of luck, good vs evil; loads of cool stuff. But always together; that’s me and Cal - Calum, my best friend, we own this place, 50/50. He got the dagger, I got the snake. Brothers, forever.” Ashton talked with such conviction, and pulled his t-shirt sleeve with enthusiasm as he held his arm out to you, showing you a stark black tattoo of a snake. “That’s so sweet.” You breathed out, without really thinking about it. He looked at you like he hadn’t expected that adjective, but like he was turning it over in his mind. “And cool!” you added, nodding slightly. “You think so?” Ashton smiled, pulling his sleeve back down, looking quietly pleased. You let a few seconds tick by in silence, looking into his eyes to see what you could see. It looked like the whole world. “Yeah, I do.”

***

“Um...I think so, yes.” You thought you were just about straddling the line between casual and so-nervous-you-could-honestly-throw-up-a-little. “I wanted to ask you this that day, but I thought I’d sound so creepy, and unprofessional, and I didn’t want you to think I was a freak, or that I did this all the time, but-” Unless you were projecting, Ashton looked as nervous as you felt. “Ashton, point! Get there!” Luke yelled gleefully from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sound that you were fairly certain was Calum smacking him upside the head. The yelp of ‘Ow!’ that followed it seemed to confirm your suspicions.  Ashton faltered slightly, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘idiot’ and ‘fired’. “Ashton.” You reached out your hand and placed it on his where he was nervously drumming on the counter again before you even thought about it. You weren’t sure which of you was more surprised at your involuntary action.  Ashton raised his eyes back to you, peering at you with hope in his hazel eyes.“You think I could get your number? Take you out sometime?” You allowed yourself to smile, widely, genuinely, as you knew just how to answer. “Yeah, I do.” *** masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[anna12o]

The best analogy I can think of when describing asexuality is with glasses.

Do you remember that fad a few years back where everyone wanted to be a hipster and wear 'nerd' glasses? Like, my older sister and her friends all had fake glasses that they would wear like an accessory.

think the people who say asexuals just want to be snowflakes are seeing it like that, but don't realize there are people who actually need glasses.

Some people who need glasses hide the fact for one reason or another with contacts, but this can be gross or painful for them, the same is true for asexuals when they feel they have to hide their sexuality and some will even force themselves into what is considered a 'normal' relationship having sex, even if they don't really want/like it.

Personally, I never realized there was anything wrong with my seeing. I usually sat near the front of class so I could see the board, and if not the teachers always said we could get closer to read it and there were plenty of others who moved closer just like me. It wasn't until I was asked to read something out loud and had to move closer that I realized others could read it from where I sat.

My asexuality was the exact same. I had absolutely no idea others felt sexual attraction, I was raised religious so I thought sex was just something you were supposed to do when you got married and that was it, it wasn't until I hit highschool and people started actually talking about sex and the adults were telling us that though we might feel tempted we should wait until marriage, and I realized everyone around me actually WAS tempted.

At first, I just thought I was a late bloomer, that's what everyone said when I wasn't interested in dating or boys. My period used to be all out of wack, and it wasn't until I started birth control to regulate it that I realized puberty was supposed to come with those feelings. I ended up staying on the pills way longer than it took to regulate my cycle, thinking they would fix me, that I was broken.

Learning about asexuality was just like putting on my glasses for the first time, I was amazed at everything I could see, that this was what my world looked like, and it was beautiful. It's the best analogy I can think of because anyone who has ever needed glasses knows what that's like. And also what it's like when you run into the people who think you're just trying to be a snowflake.

My Mom has always wanted me to get contacts, and I know she means well, but she just doesn't understand how uncomfortable they make me, and she's the same with asexuality. She's the type to say I haven't found the right person, who still thinks I'll grow out of it, but that's the same as thinking someone just needs to find a brand that's good for them, or use the contacts often enough to get use to them, but getting used to something, tolerating something, it doesn't make it any more enjoyable, it doesn't make it something you want, it's just something you have to do, and no one should ever feel that way about something as intimate as sex.

But then the glasses comparison carries over to the way some members of the LGBT community try to exclude asexuals, except it's less about trying to fix us, or say we're faking it for attention, it's more like when you're with people who also wear glasses, but they don't think your prescription is all that bad, that you shouldn't be wearing glasses because you can see just fine without them. That maybe you should wear contacts and go with the people who can see, because you shouldn't be grouped in with them.

Then you start to wonder if they're right, maybe you do just wear contacts, or maybe you stop wearing glasses all together, and then you're right back to where you started.

[dweetwise]

yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Gimme Sympathy

A/N  One more fic in the Metric universe, and then I have to knuckle down and finish the second arc of Saorsa.   This story takes place just after Lost Kitten, so after The Beginning and Breathing Underwater, but long before Lazy Dancer and Calculation Theme.  Previous fics are available on my AO3 page.

Oh, and mild warning for foul language, if that’s not your thing.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

December 10, 2016, Bistrotheque, Bethnal Green, London

“Bloody feckin hell, this place is a madhouse!” Geillis yelled as she elbowed her way back to Claire’s side in the vestibule of the latest trendy East London eatery.

“Yes, well, this was all your idea.  I was happy going out for pad thai and warm beer,” Claire retorted over the din.  Truth be told, she was excited to be out past 8pm wearing something other than her scrubs and someone else’s bodily fluids.  It had been a tough slog of a year.

“Are ye mad, woman?  Bad enough ye wouldna let me throw ye a party fer gettin’ inta medical school.  I wasna goin’ to settle for anything less than the hippest hipster joint in all o’ Bethnal Green tae celebrate yer success.”

They were eventually ushered into the cavernous main dining room, bedecked like a virginal bride with a long row of liquor bottles atop the massive central bar reflecting the pendant lights like gemstones.  Claire felt conspicuous in her slim black skirt and tallest heels, the pressure of assessing eyes on her exposed back.

Ordering a bottle of ridiculously overpriced champagne, Geillis raised her flute in salute.

“Tae my hard-working, brilliant, an’ annoyingly beautiful friend, who will be the most kick-ass doctor the Royal London ‘as e’er seen.  Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

“Thank you, Geil.  Though, I’m a long way from a doctor yet,” she demurred, letting the crisp liquid bite her tongue before swallowing.

“Ach, ‘tis no’ but a formality.  Ye could pick up a scalpel now and still be a right sight better than most o’ those auld wankers we work wi’!”

“You’re a true friend, Geil.  And you have excellent taste in hipster joints.  This menu is amazing.”

The two women drank and ate and laughed and drank some more.  Geillis was a bottomless well of off-colour stories, most involving her constantly changing stable of male companions.

“So you’re saying he, err, handcuffed you to the bed frame and then... passed out cold?” Claire asked, eyes alight with mischief.

“Aye.  An’ before he could serve me, the bugger.  Anyway, tha’ was why I couldna reply tae yer texts when ye lost yer keys.”

“I thought you were speaking metaphorically, when you said you’d been tied up!”  Claire dissolved into giggles, the empty champagne bottle having been replaced by some top flight Scottish whisky.   This meal was going to cost Geillis a fortune.

“Nah.  Ye ken I would come tae yer rescue, nae matter how well I was bein’ rogered, Claire.  Thas’ wha’ friends are for,” Geillis Scots grew more broad as she plumbed the depths of intoxication, a fact that Claire had always found endearing.  “Come tae think o’ it, where did ye bed down tha’ night?  The on-call room?”

Claire blushed and stared into her half-empty glass.  She’d been hoping to avoid this particular conversation, but now she’d stumbled straight into it.

“No, I ran into an... acquaintance, when I was bumbling about in the rain.  And they offered to let me stay in their spare room.  So, will you be seeing this Norwegian personal trainer again?  It’s hardly his fault he passed out.   Knowing you, he probably drank enough liquor to pickle an elephant.”

Geillis might have been drunk, but she was still canny, and she could tell when her friend was hiding something.

“What acquaintance of yours has a spare room?  Tha’ Hawkins girl, from Pediatrics?”

“No.  No, it was... um, well, it was James Fraser,” she mumbled, hoping Geillis had forgotten his family name, or had never known it in the first place.  Either was a distinct possibility, but luck was not with her.

“Jamie Fraser!   The big ginger firefighter?!   Ye slept at Jamie Fraser’s, an’ ye failed tae inform me immediately?  Feckin hell, Claire!”

Claire glanced nervously at the tables close by either side of their own, hoping the general clamour prevented them from overhearing their conversation.

“It’s precisely because I knew you’d react like this that I didn’t tell you, Geil.  It’s not a big deal.  He happened upon me, I told him about my keys, and he offered for me to sleep in his spare room.  His flatmate had just moved out,” she explained rationally.

“Nae big deal, she says.   Alright, then.  If it twas nae big deal, tell me everythin’.   Seein’ as we’re no’ keepin’ secrets.”

Knowing there was no way to pull Geillis off the scent a juicy tale, Claire matter-of-factly described meeting Jamie in Brick Lane, the inside of his flat, and the quiet breakfast they’d shared the next morning before they’d gone their separate ways.  Something kept her from sharing the story of their middle-of-the-night encounter and Jamie’s PTSD episode.  She told herself she was merely maintaining the privacy of an informal patient, but there was something more possessive lying beneath her motivation.   Jamie had revealed himself to her in a way she knew, instinctively, he’d never shared with Geillis.  The secret was his, and now it was hers as well.

“Interesting,” her friend opined, nodding her head as though a theory had been confirmed.  “So, the wee fox cub likes his damsels in distress, does he?”

“It wasn’t like that at all, Geil.  Don’t make this about sex.”

“Hen, everythin’ is about sex.  Jus’ because ye’ve sworn off men doesna make it untrue.”

“You would say that,” Claire retorted.  “Especially since you and he...” she gestured with her hand.

“Aye.   Aye, we did.   Twas the night before ye left fer Afghanistan, if I recall,” Geillis confirmed, unrepentant.

“Just the once?” Claire asked, curious despite herself.

“Aye.  Well, twice, if ye count the time in the shower after ye puked on me.”

“Oh my god.  Geillis!   You fucked him in our shower while I lay intoxicated in my bed?  I can’t believe you!”

“We made certain ye were alright, first,” Geillis defended herself, batting her eyelashes innocently.

“Bloody hell.  Well, and?  Don’t hold back now.  How was he?”

Geillis looked abstracted and Claire knew she was reliving the night in question, four years past.  A lump formed in her throat, and she regretted asking for details.  Now the two streams had crossed in her mind, and she’d never again be able to think of Jamie without also remembering the look Geil had on her face in that moment.

Reading her friend’s glass face with ease, Geillis took pity on her.

“Ye dinna really want tae know, love.  I will say this.  He’s a good lad.   Far too lovely for the likes o’ me.”

“That’s it?  I have to listen to the minutae of every other sexual adventure you have, but Jamie Fraser is ‘lovely’?”

“Aye.  Ye do, and he is.   Come, le’s get out o’ here a’fore I canna walk.”

Stumbling out into the cloudy night, the two leaned against each other and started the long trek back to their flat.  Claire was silent, trying to muddle through her conflicted feelings through the haze of drink.  It really shouldn’t matter that Geillis and Jamie had a history, albeit a very short-lived one.  And yet somehow, it did.

“I will tell ye one thing,” Geillis began as though their earlier conversation hadn’t ended twenty minutes previous.   “The lad has the trapezius of an Olympic deity.  Ye could do far worse.”

“I could... Geil, I told you, it isn’t like that.  You more than anyone should know I’m not in the market for a man, Olympian musculature or not.   Especially now, with medical school looming.”

Geillis stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing a couple to step around them, muttering angrily.

“Claire,” she said, trying to school her features into something approximating solemnity, “yer a brilliant lass, but ye’re also a damn fool.   Just cause one man treated ye poorly doesna mean they all will.   Ye’re gonna make mistakes, ye’re young.  But dinna live in the dark because ye got too close tae the flame and got burned.”

Lecture over, Geillis steered them westward.

“Where are we going?”

“Tae the chippie.  Hipster food is well an’ good, but it doesna soak up all the yummy alcohol like tatties an’ grease.”

[softsweetsuffering]

OC LIST (New)

Trey:

Has an ability to mimic or amplify abilities/powers of others, as well as telekinesis

Was previously part of a group of people who also had abilities, however after mistreatment and other issues within the group, he left.

He's got a good wealth behind him.

Extremely gentle

Handsome ;)

Loves photography

Has lavender hair

Respects all

'Secretly' Plays violin

Lowkey a sugardaddy

Hamrish Benat:

Has four eyes!

Pink and blonde hair

He loves parkour (as in climbing buildings and leaping around in gyms)

Has PTSD (There are two AUS of which I default as to how he obtained it)

Ready to deck a bitch

Trained nurse

Loves teddy bears and fuzzy pink socks.

Also goes by Hami/Hayden

Andy peters:

Strong, kind.

The quiet Big Type, doesn't always talk, but his heart is in good places.

Wishes he could do more

Buff + Tall

Wears a pair of dogtags.

Has red streaks in his hair for the fun of it

Is extremely brotherly to Adrian

is friends with Hami

Adrian Géarán:

Nervous Malnutritioned anxiety filled tired mess

Has emotionally linked fire abilities (does not like having them)

likes to make little robots!

Easily bullied

Missing an arm

Struggles with normal life

Blames himself for Andys death

Looks unintentionally vaguely like Fry from Futurama

Chris:

Leader of a summer camp for kiddos

Huge fan of the outdoors

Loves to garden

Red head with freckles

Healthy!

Good build, a little on the below-average male height

Likes to hike

Loves kids

Strong but pacifistic

Great smile

Surprisingly a little shy around other adults

Bisexual

Himbo energy

Douglas Connelly:

Just a regular chubby guy

His chub is only important because this man gives some of the best hugs, he's like a marshmallow

He is outwardly confident about his size, even if it sometimes worries him internally

He loves music, loves to groove in the kitchen while making snacks

Always open for roommates and new friends (one of his roommates is a hot bartender called Donovan)

A bit awkward but he tries his best.

Tucker:

Badass

Bunny hybrid (ears :3)

White hair

Likes to wear denim jackets

Fast runner

Has had experience working in the force

Izekiel Iris:

Bruised and abused in a facility

Was turned from human into A being of made of Paint (Useful? no. Fun? yes. Rainbow blood anyone?)

Loves painting

Wallflower

Easily anxious

Loves to draw on his own arms

Matthew Libelle:

Aka Matty Very delayed development wise as well as Autistic

Very much a texture lad, soft blankets are his thing.

Doesn't like loud sounds ( who does honestly).

Tries his hardest to function normally but it's hard.

Watermelon colours are his fav. Green hoodie is his fav.

Has watermelon pink hair.

Gale:

Eldritch bab

Was cursed by a group of guys who were messing with magics they didn't understand

Did in fact murder said group of guys and is traumatised by the idea he has become a monster

hears voices

Has Tendrils that have burst out of his back

Has the ability to move from this realm to the Eldritch planes and back. (is terrified of said planes)

Doesn't have a home

Black curly hair- frizzy- shimmers like Slick oil

Shy type kinda, tall Pale. cold.

Kinda wishes he could just go back to normal.

Would really like to eat some fresh warm bread.

Rowan maverick

Was abandoned as a teen

Also known as Rogue/Red.

Lost some of their tongues making them mute

Trained Assassin.

Previously part of a cult

Addict to painkillers (Caused by the mental issues from the cult and the loss of tongue.)

Bad with Physical affection

Could use a friend

Jace

Cop/Ex Cop.

Laid off after an incident

Has a pubby called Otis

Likes the occasional beer

Dad energy

Issac Merewen

Was previously a Teacher - grade 11/12s

Kidnapped and kept Drugged the hell up.

Was given the new name: Jess/Jack. AKA The Jester

Now has Amnesia problems .(Anomic aphasia)

Was stored Cramped in box.

Needs glasses. (Long sighted. Cant see Infront of him for shit without glasses. He specifically likes round ones :3)

Natrually Blonde

He was very inspired by the Chitty Chitty bang bang scene, “Doll on a music box”.

- He naturally has two different coloured eyes :D

-He likes podcast n occasionally audiobooks. Its good for learning/remembering words, and way easier than straining his eyes. Although it is upsetting occasionally when he can remember more of a book/podcast he’s into more than real words or real-life things.

Tyrone Li

Incubus.

Wise, Patient, caring.

Brown tattoos wind up his hips and torso, curling around his chest around his heart, and around his back, flaring at his neck.

Glasses.

Loves plants and flora

Sex lost meaning when he was younger. He wants true intimacy again but he wants to find the right person..

Glamors hide the following features:

Tail, brown that gradients into Green, Leaf like tip.

Horns, curled. (green tipped :0)

Glamors break usually after a certain period of time regardless of feeding, however, during bad situations/fight the body may unglamour to reserve the last of its energy.

Caspian:

Basically immortal but can die (Reincarnations)

Not a pacifist, but not instantly into violence

He was blessed by the Heart of the Ocean (Shes wonderful <3)

Can control water, can do minor healing with water

Can make water bubble/ boil when angry

Glowy veins when powers are active

He has had many many lives

Soft..caring..Doesnt remember alot of his past..

Doesn't know how many times hes died

Doesn't have alot of family or friends

Goes on many adventures

Elio Solren.

Nickname: Sunshine

Good lad.

Is a shapeshifter Dealt with being told he was happy and always upbeat. People leaving or ignoring him whenever he wasn't started building this sense of need to be happy all the time for others.

Lots of struggles with self image. Being perfect. Appeasing everyone. Poor self body love/self body image.

Is scared about The hate from humans about shifters. The jealousy and fear about them being able to hide behind other faces.

Smiles to hide the pain

Punk/hipster vibes

Intricate golden tattoos

Doesn't open up easily

Doesn't like to admit to being in pain

Kotori

AKA Corey

Owl lad!

Bright yellow piercing eyes. But is totally blind. (Face scars)

Loves music.

Plays the uke.. hums..sings sometimes.

Big wings- like barn owl.

Likes to perch in trees

Jeremey Caulfield

Winter baby

Was left bleeding in the snow at some point

Father Lovely old man (John)

Mother died (Ellie)

Birthday December 23h

Blue eyes

Black hair

Russel

Box boy

Glasses

Red hair

Real sweetheart

Really needs more dev ; ;

Jules

Loves tofu n chicken

Touchstarved

Stubborn af

Kicks ass!

Has Sass

Wears binders/sports bras for Lotsa running n such

Black hair big messy pigtails

Dark brown eyes.

Has a navy bear sleeps with it ‘doesn't care’ about it but does

Gymnast/kickboxing. Bandages around hands

Loved swinging bars since being a kiddo

Trampolines!!

Participates in Underground fight ring to make easy money

Sleeps on just a mattress

Has a laptop for study work but she's slowly giving up on bothering.

(She's not one originally but Werewolf Jules is one of my fav things)

Miles

Part mole, part orphan

Lives underground

Very light-sensitive

Is colourblind

Absolute nerd

loves tinkering with things

is scared of humans

very foggy memories of his parents.

Leilah/ Lei

Can make/control shadows.

Owns a Magic skull(Speaks to it)

Lives in the woods

Wears a skull to spook off people from her woods

Has Tattoos that are shadow/absorb shadows

Kinda bad at maintaining friendships

Emotionally Distant

Wears a cloak.

Bao Ketsuyki

Blood magic bab

Short

East Asian.

Pink/red medium length hair

Big pretty red flower scar from blood magic use on her shoulder/ back.

Little bit foolish, little bit reckless.

Has almost died a few times from her magic use.

Oran Audun

Pale

Punk

Irish

Plays Guitar

Writes in journal, occasionally song lyrics, occasionally little messy ink drawings.

Easy to aggravate (On edge) however is trying to learn how to meditate and be calmer

Covered head to toe in scars but still tries to find confidence in himself. He doesn't find it unattractive, but he feels like others have no need to witness his scars.

loves wearing leather/fabric wrist bracelets

Unwelcome hands have used his body as a research object

Very very against physical contact, needs to break into it.

Ray

Social worker works mainly with kids.

Has a Shy guy tattoo.

His family consists of a Good ma, younger sister, and super baby brother

Dad died but dad was good.

Dirty blonde hair, kinda messy

Short, 5’

Socks the pupper is his helpful lil buddy (hes so round and white and fluffy)

Super dad vibes.

Owen

a hockey player n gymnast.

His mother died when he was about 9.

has an older brother who is a bit of a big jock type

quite protective and caring of his two much younger siblings.

ended up in a nasty scuffle though at some point during his more competitive years in Hockey

This leads to following his passion for Gym

Pole vault, the rings, trampoline.

Still plays hockey among mates or strangers on the weekends in the cold months tho

Ends up taking a position as a gym teacher for kids after taking a childhood course since he was so good at it.

actually a really sweet guy

Soft but likes his sport and jokes.

He can hold his own somewhat more than he appears.

has blue tips/stripes in his blonde hair.

He often wears varsity jackets or baseball tees. As well as a couple other sport wear shirts. (A. Good few are from his bro ofc. Free merch)

He's short but he's got a fairly decent build on him.

He's got a surprisingly good tackle if you aren't careful. And a good grip strength.

Nohea

but everyone calls him Noah.

Works at a Boba tea cafe..

likes to surf.

has an Epic board.

Back and shoulders all littered with lines and tic tac toe-like scars.

he's the type to brush off any questions and change topic while smiling. But not super bubbly. Just. Go lucky.

has a few friends who like to hang out at the cafe

Was in a surfing accident that involved a lot of rocks.

Ila

4’8 Soft. Short.

Ready to protect.

Loves to bake!!!

Smells like a vanilla cupcake most of the time

Isn't afraid to fight although isn't trained

likes Yoga ( and yoga pants)

Needs glasses but doesn't wear them (tsk tsk, unless tryign to read recipes)

Dyes hair silver/white

Jake

Homeless

Snake hybrid can transform his lower half from human legs to tail

Also has fangs, and therefore venom

He's got a lot of sass

Can be a bit of an asshole but soft around the right people

Isn't used to kindness

doesn't cry easily

Steals food

Mac Hiato

Also known as Caf

5’6

Very Grumpy.

Very often has bags under his eyes.

Hoodie is life

Insomnia has serious trouble sleeping.

Has nightmares of strangulation

Occasionally sufferers sleep paralysis

Scared of dark- night lights

Owns a mouse called Bean

Does freelancing webdesgisn/coding as job.

Sits like a gay.

Lives on coffee

Minorly Lactose intolerant

Has One bad eye

Neema

Egyptian

Mechanic

Her dad's a mechanic and used to bring her to work all the time

dead mum: which affected her ability to emote.

Works part time at the garage

Dad likes to bring gifts on their small catch-ups that happen every once in a while.

Sheeee. Suffers a bit of resting bitch face.

she's kinda stunted emotionally because she was raised by her dad, who, isn't great with emotions himself being a man's man and all.

She's very much a tomboy gal. Doesn't exactly get dressed up. because she finds it tiresome and not "her".

Also if she did/does have friends the nickname Nemo 100% crops up because it's sadly alll too fitting but also kinda sweet.

She's actually really into cars and mechanics. Which is one of the few good reasons her dad and her are close.

She's hard to get to know, very quiet. And if you're someone who dominates the conversation she won't speak up much, but you'll be surprised to how much she's listened.

Just because she looks tired and done doesn't actually mean she feels that way.

Samson (Lemonade boi)

His name is Samson, but he prefers Sun/Sunny. (Other more affectionate nicknames include Lemondrop and Sunflower.)

He really likes going out to markets and stuff like that, little stalls or knick knack shops to find the odd kinda items.

He also really likes wandering big forests. (Hes got some o that fae energy) He collects various cool stones/rocks/plants from some of them. He also has some small vials from waterfalls and ponds he’s encountered)

He wants to practice magic to become a witch! He loves the candles and rocks and other cool things that come with the craft. (He inherited things from his father)

He really likes loose fitting shirts too, like flowy things, ones with sleeves that drape past your fingers, or has extra fabric on the bottom that dangle down past hips. (Sometimes they come from the ladies section just because they’re softer and have more variety. Others from op shops and other niche little stores.)

He bought a cologne from a witch that looks cursed but the only curse is that it makes the one who puts it on smell like citrus..so not much of curse. (The bottle looks fuckin neato tho)

He looves fizzy drinks. Doesn’t mind his alcohol either, however it takes a surprising amount to get him on his ass despite looking like a serious lightweight.

He’s pretty average in build, bit of muscle in his arms, some fat on his thighs. Slight pouch of a tum (cause no ones flat and thats unrealistic :<)

He’s about 5′4. So not tall, but not the shortest of the short.

He kinda likes to backpack about. Not staying in places long if they get boring. Which means he is kinda jack of all trades when it comes to work, offering to fix things for pay, lots of casual work doing various things.(One of his favorites was helping a little old lady run a paint shop.)

He occasionally snorts when he laughs and tries not to.

He has his ears pierced, and he has a little yellow gemed stud in his nose.

The ring around his neck he found in the middle of a patch of mushrooms.

He has a couple other tattoos. One of them is of bubbles up his wrist :3 He also has some stars on his ankle, and a sunflower on one of his fingers on his left hand.

He’s not super in to gardening but he does have his lemon tree. He also wants to grow some mandarins

His eyes look silver in a lot of lights, but occasionally there’s some strange hints of yellow, and other times blue.

He has freckles!!!! that look alot like bubbles ;)

He has a twin brother called Fraser.

Scrunches his nose

Hides his laughter behind his hand

[meta-squash]

A ramble on Dallas Theater Center Les Miserables

So, 5 years late, I jumped back on the bandwagon and finally watched a bootleg of Dallas Theater Center’s 2014 production of Les Miserables.

And wow. I can’t believe I waited 5 damn years to watch it. So here’s a long rambling write up on it based on the live-tweeting I was doing as I watched (and a little bit on me skipping through the bootleg video right now). It’s partly just me summarizing scenes so I can nerd out about the little details I loved and towards the end me talking about the show as a whole and why it was so fucking important.

First of all I wanna say that I'm surprised it took this long for a professional theater company to do a "modern day" Les Mis. I know all the fans fucking love their Modern AUs fics, I've been reading them since like 2012 and I love them. But also I'm SO glad someone finally did it because Les Miserables' themes are universal and they are amazing but they're also really relevant to what's going on today, or 5 years ago (since it's only gotten fucking worse tbh).

My first big impression was how great the costuming was. You can tell the socioeconomic class of the characters just from what they’re wearing, from how they posture and interact with others. Which is easy when it’s period costuming, you just make everyone look dirty and ripped up vs not dirty, but this (aside from the Thenardiers) is a little more subtle.

Also re: the costuming, I absolutely LOVE that they modernized Javert’s costume into a cop’s uniform but managed to retain the classic Javert Silhouette by giving him that trenchcoat, so we still get the expected Inspector Javert Silhouette despite the fact that he’s a modern day cop. Also all of the other cops/soldiers being straight up SWAT was an excellent decision, not only because it shows the sheer violence of a police that isn’t supposed to necessarily be SWAT, but also because the helmets completely cover their heads, so when the soldiers sing lines, they don’t even sound human. Yet another layer.

Nehal Joshi as Valjean was great. Honestly the moment I keep thinking about is actually from the very beginning, just after Valjean is released. Joshi looks so happy, delighted, like his heart is light again. He smiles as he sings “ Drink from the pool / How clean the taste” while looking up into the sky like he’s amazed at being in the open air. Then suddenly his posture changes completely, becomes guarded and hard, his expression gets closed off, and he sings “Never forget the years, the waste” before thumbing at his nose in that tough way and grabbing his bag off the ground. It was an emphasis on a pair of lines that I’ve never seen properly emphasized before. Usually the emphasis is on the next lines, when Valjean is saying “Now let’s see / what this new world has in store for me”. But here they emphasize that despite being free, he has traumas he has to deal with, and experiences that mean he’s wary of the world. It makes his theft of the silver make a lot more sense; it’s not just opportunistic, it’s also that he straight up doesn’t trust anybody.

(Another note on costumes: Valjean’s post-prison costume is his orange jumpsuit with this weird ratty, torn up sweater thing over it. I do very much wish they’d given him a hoodie that was equally as ratty instead of a sweater because I feel like that would’ve been another interesting layer of commentary.)

Two notes I made specifically about this production’s Soliloquy: This production had Valjean rip his prison papers accidentally, while he’s in the middle of an emotional gesture, then he stares at the rip in disbelief, and comes to the realization that he could just rip it up, and so he does. I thought that was a very cool mechanic. The audience literally watches him get the idea of changing who he is. Also, when he sings “I am reaching, but I fall / And the night is closing in” he actually wraps the rope of his bag around his own neck, like he’s considering death, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I thought it was really interesting considering those are the lines that directly mirror/parallel Javert’s Suicide.

This production also has all the Bad People roles played by white people, which is just fantastic. The foreman, Javert, all the cops, etc etc. I thought it was an excellent decision, since all of the main characters (minus the revolutionaries) are POC.

Fantine was amazing, has an incredible voice, and her I Dreamed A Dream sounded genuinely miserable, almost frantic with the fact that not only is she a single mother struggling to pay for her child who’s living with some other family, she now has nowhere to turn for money at all, and she’s completely alone. I think she’s my favorite Fantine of any of the ones I saw.

And Lovely Ladies absolutely blew me away. This was the first Lovely Ladies I’ve ever seen that felt Real. Not just that there was sex going on (because there was, there’s people fucking and getting blowjobs etc in the background the entire time), but it doesn’t feel like something silly or shallow. The entire thing feels desperate and exploitative and miserable and painful. Most of the other characters are dressed in provocative, revealing clothes. But there are a few in just jeans and t-shirts, looking desperate and kind of bedraggled. And then you have Fantine, who is literally just in a slip and long socks, looking out of place and terrified.

The usual Lovely Ladies shenanigans do ensue, but there’s a tinge of horribleness to it that is sharper than in the traditional show. In the traditional show, the moment where the music suddenly slows, and all the women sing “Lovely ladies / Going for a song / Got a lot of callers / But they never stay for long”, it usually feels like kind of a weird and unprompted moment of introspection after so much ruckus, but in this version the reason everyone slows down is because the pimp plucks their cash out of each of their hands one by one. And then the horribleness is increased tenfold because all of the women are in a line with men behind them simulating sex, and Fantine is in the center, bent double, the Captain behind her, staring down the audience. With each thrust she grits her words out like she’s in pain in every way imaginable. And the Captain ‘finishes’ just as she hits the line “dead!” Which is just. A lot. But so good. It packs so much more of a punch than Fantine leading the Captain offstage, or to one side of the stage.

The way that Confrontation was staged was also so cool to me. In the shows I’ve seen the first part of Confrontation is Javert and Valjean facing off with Javert stage left and Valjean kind of up beside Fantine’s bed, but they’re on the same “level,” in that Valjean walks a few paces forward a few lines later and they grapple. In this version, they stood quite literally on either side of Fantine’s hospital bed, so that they’re arguing across her dead body.

Madame Thenardier made me think of a bizarre cross between Miss Hannigan, the mom from Matilda, and Patsy Stone from Absolutely Fabulous. She did a great job. M Thenardier is a douchey hipster pirate type guy with white guy dreads. Also they made him an ex-con as well, but he displays the numbers tattooed on his chest with pride compared to Valjean who hides them, which was yet another interesting decision.

This version of Les Mis has taught me that “My mom doesn’t let me drink” is the absolute BEST piece of spoken dialogue you could throw in before Master Of The House kicks the fuck off. 

Also this version has Eponine participating in the scams during Master Of The House: she takes peoples’ orders, carries plates, dances, etc. She’s cleaner and more pampered than Cosette, but she’s still being used.

Look Down was really interesting to me. Now, I think what I’m about to say is partly informed by costuming. That is, I think with period costuming an audience has a harder time distinguishing more subtle roles between (non-main) characters. What I mean is, in traditional Look Down, it just seems like three characters having an argument with each other, but with a modernized version the costuming makes it clear that it’s an old beggar woman, a prostitute, and her pimp. While that’s obvious from the actual dialogue, the period costuming makes it a little harder to glean the separate character types other than “beggar type”. Anyway, the roles being clearer via costuming makes all the interactions seem a lot more Real. It’s not just people all dressed alike singing lines at each other, it’s actual separate people having actual conflicts.

Also, I really really liked Mark Hancock as Gavroche. He’s older, or at least bigger, than most kids who end up playing Gavroche, and he’s not the most beautiful singer, but I think that works all the better for a production like this one. He’s not a cutesy Oliver Twist-type character. He’s a kid living rough on the streets, and he’s got a sense of humor but he is a badass.

This version also had a LOT more flirtatious behavior between Marius and Cosette. Like it’s not just one glance on the street. During The Robbery, Marius and Cosette are giving little glances and flirty waves the whole time, all shy and cute, little hand signals like “I want to talk to you oh my god” etc. Also this Cosette has glasses! She’s so cute!

Stars as a song feels very weird when it’s a Modern Day Cop singing about such a philosophical topic, and at first I was kinda ??? about it. Because you know, in a period piece, you kind of expect more elaborate language, you expect certain types of morality, etc. It sounds weird coming out of someone dressed like a pig you’d see on the street in real life. But then at the end of the song Javert takes a rosary out of his breast pocket to sing “Lord let me find him...” etc, and suddenly it actually made a lot of sense. It finally connected the religious references and morality displayed in the lyrics. Because a lot of shitty cops in real life are masquerading as Christians, so again, a good decision.

Ah, the ABC Cafe. Always lovely to hear those horns. John Campione was AMAZING as Enjolras. At first I was a little disappointed they made him a white guy, but then I thought about it and it actually makes a lot of sense. Despite his passion about justice etc, Brick Enjolras is a wealthy student; what better way to show his privilege in a modern setting than to have him be white? Anyway, I think Campione did a great job of portraying a leader who is so passionate, and so dedicated, and so intent on his cause but also kind of stressed out as the day draws nearer. (More on that later.)

Similarly, this Grantaire is a little shit. He does this hilarious like “call on me!” hand raise before “I am agog, I am aghast” which I thought was quite funny and cute. Also after “It’s better than an opera,” the Amis all laugh and clap, and Enjolras does this extremely sarcastic slow clapping before admonishing Marius with “It is time for us all to decide who we are” etc. Also Grantaire and Enjolras are actually standing beside each other for Marius lines, so that when he says “struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight,” Grantaire looks directly at Enjolras and stays staring at him, so that when he moves downstage to stand across from Marius and sing “Red!” and “Black!” at him, it feels more like solidarity than mocking.

But then Enjolras pulls Marius further downstage for his “Marius you are no longer a child” etc lines. His body language is great here. When he sings “Who cares about your lonely soul,�� he doesn’t just look like some charismatic leader man. He looks like someone who’s stressed out and a little annoyed/exasperated that this person is causing a distraction right when things are started to get important. He runs his hands through his hair, his gestures are clipped and fast, like he’s got too much energy and isn’t quite sure where to put it. It’s so good. He sings “Our little lives don’t count at all.” And then there’s a long, long moment of silence. A long one, where Marius looks around at his friends and realization that what they’re undertaking is much bigger than his emotional outburst, that Enjolras is right and he has to be with them instead of off in the clouds. And he raises his hand tentatively and then more surely towards Enjolras and sings that next “Red! The blood of angry men!” all on his own before the rest of the Amis join in. GREAT decisions there. SO COOL. (Also this is the moment when an Amis Hand Sign is established, which is important later on.)

This show uses silence in a way that I’ve never really seen another version do it. After Gavroche yells “General Lamarque is dead!” there’s usually a beat of silence before Enjolras begins to sing. In this version there is a long, long moment of silence when everyone looks around at each other, a moment where Joly tosses his pamphlet angrily onto the table and sits down with his head in his hands, a moment where Marius and Grantaire are the only two who turn away and face upstage at the news, a moment where they all process that this is fucking Real, and everything that they’ve been planning is suddenly Actually Happening. And then Enjolras begins, and his voice is so soft, and so sad, and it’s like he’s delivering a eulogy, but it’s only when he gets to “Is the sign we await!” and we get those trumpets that it changes into Enjolras The Leader, and it’s go time, and everything is Intense. Campione is fantastic as Enjolras because I think often people play Enjolras as this solid, charismatic leader who is stoney-faced and sure of himself etc. Which works for the period style (and is fairly Brick-accurate), but I think would seem a little odd in a modern day setting. This Enjolras is in it, he’s into it, he’s fucking intense and ablaze with energy. He sings Do You Hear The People Sing like he’s giving a speech, like he’s trying to convince (And “the real glory is to convince” so y’know).

And Do You Hear The People Sing as a campaigning song is brilliant. It starts out not with march, but with handing out fliers made of red paper, passing them out and getting out the word. Only then do they pull out signs and put on red caps and start marching.

In My Life/A Heart Full Of Love was so fucking hilariously cute. Marius and Cosette are both excellent levels of awkward, and there’s a lot of nonverbal flirting going on, and I just thought it was really well done.

I was told while I was live-tweeting that during One Day More the sort of dancing march they do (because it’s like a dance, instead of the in-place marching of the traditional version) is actually the Toyi-Toyi, a South African dance that was used as a form of protest during Apartheid and during other times as well. So that was a very cool addition. I’m sure there are other callbacks in this show to other protests or protest traditions like that that I didn’t even catch. The dance also reminded me of the body percussion used in A Quoi Tu Danses from 1789: Les Amants De La Bastille, so that was cool as well. We also get face paint and signs and red berets and button pins and a lot of stuff that has been seen in a lot of modern protests/movements lately.

Side note: Javert’s disguise is amazing because he retains his cop boots and trousers and crisp white shirt; he just puts a brown jacket and a red scarf over it and wears a red beret.

OKay SO. This is possibly the BEST On My Own I’ve ever seen. Now, I’m highly partial to Briana Carlson-Goodman as Eponine because the emotion in her voice is just mind-blowing. But this On My Own was so amazing. First of all, I’m amazed I’ve never seen any other production do this: when Eponine sings “pretending he’s beside me”, she puts out her hand like she’s holding some imaginary lover’s hand, like she’s genuinely imagining him walking with her, and it made her self-deception that much sadder. And this version was so good, I think because it was this perfect combination of angry and disappointed and yearning and self-deceiving. You can tell this Eponine KNOWS she’s deluding herself that Marius will ever love her, that she’s hugely disappointed and almost angry at that fact, but she still loves him and wants him and wants that love, and it just makes that self-deception all the stronger.

This version of Les Mis brings the barricade in as a flown set piece, which I think is an interesting decision. I definitely prefer the US Tour version, where the downstage scrim is backlit/lifted and both the audience and Eponine are suddenly confronted with the fully-built barricade. However, the barricade being flown in does give the Barricade Boys a moment to stand and admire their handiwork, so that’s kind of also cool.

(Somewhat unrelated, but throughout the show this Grantaire is a lot more still than other actors’ versions of R, but also more still than the other Amis in this show, so it’s clearly a choice. Other version of R are slumped over a table or slumped on the ground a lot, or they’re wobbly, or just generally restless and upset. This R is so still and just standing unmoved and blank it’s definitely a choice. Very much taking the “he seemed to be waiting there for a bullet which should spare him the trouble of waking” quote from the Brick and translating it to the stage version, in that he does move to shoot his gun but aside from that he’s so stock still it’s like he’s given up. Anyway. Back to the actual show instead of me just waxing lyrical about my favorite character.

When Eponine climbs over the barricade, Marius waves down all the guns just as Joly yells “There’s a boy climbing the barricade!” This kind of happens in other versions, but it seems like most of the traditional Les Mis versions all the Barricade Boys just kind of accept someone’s climbing the barricade and let Eponine over? In this one Marius like actually is waving down their guns, blatantly being like “don’t shoot, I know this person.”

And when Eponine is revealed to be shot, they don’t just let her die in Marius’ arms. The first half of A Little Fall Of Rain is sung with Eponine in Marius’ arms, but there’s also Feuilly there as a medic, pressing handkerchiefs to her wound, his hand on her with Marius’ hand on top of his and Eponine’s on top of them both. When Marius is saying “and you will live ‘Ponine,” medic/Feuilly shakes his head at him as if to say, ‘don’t tell her that, she’s not going to make it, I’m so sorry,’ but he still has his hand on her wound. It’s only when she sings “Just hold me now, and let it be” that Eponine pushes the medic/Feuilly away so she can die just with Marius. I really, really, really loved that because it seems so Right. Like, they’re fighting for a better world, they’re not just going to let an injured person die, they’re going to try their best to help her even if she’s dying and there’s nothing they can do. And I really liked that there was a medic there, but he was faced upstage, away from the audience, as if he was trying to help but also not intrude on this private moment. But when Eponine does push him away, he goes fairly easily, like he’s realized that she’s realized that she’s going to die. Also, instead of carrying Eponine offstage like a ragdoll, Grantaire and Feuilly bring over a stretcher and she’s carried off in it by Marius and Feuilly while Grantaire collects the handkerchiefs that were bloodied by her wound.

Valjean’s soldier disguise is the SWAT gear, even the helmet, although he mostly carries it in his hand rather than wearing it. It’s interesting because the difference between the SWAT gear and the suits he wears as Fauchelevent are a hugely stark difference, whereas the difference between his nice period clothes and the soldier’s period uniform isn’t quite so intense.

I noticed that during Drink With Me, Joly put his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder during “Let the wine of friendship never run dry,” which is sweet. I also noticed that aside from the moments where he was shooting his gun and the few moments he was being helpful re: Eponine’s death, Grantaire spends most of his time very very still, staring down at the floor with his shoulders slumped. He judges moments with just a shake of the head and turning away while others watch. His part in Drink With Me is sung with a bitterness that is more final than it is angry, like he can’t understand why they’ve all chosen to sacrifice themselves like this and he hates it and he’s bitter that all his friends are going to die but he’s realized there’s nothing he can do about it.

Bring Him Home is SUCH a hard song to sing and it’s actually really interesting in this version, I think. Because in traditional shows I think Valjean is played as a fairly calm person who is just always calm. Joshi plays his Valjean like he has taught himself to be calm, but inside he’s still kind of angry and traumatized and still has those instincts and still doesn’t quite know whether to believe in god or not, or something like that. So Bring Him Home is a moment where it seems like at first he’s just hoping, and then by the end of the song he’s genuinely imploring god to save Marius. Like it’s the first time he’s ever really begged a higher power to do something instead of just acting of his own power to make the good happen. I have no idea if I’m articulating myself well.

Again, Campione is a FANTASTIC Enjolras who plays him like a stressed out passionate leader who is constantly stuck between This Is Finally Real Hooray and Holy Shit This Is Too Fucking Real Oh God. In The Second Attack he portrays it really well, looking around at all the people he suddenly feels responsible for, body language like he’s trying to make too many split-second decisions. It’s just really good.

Death Of Gavroche is also great because even though this Gavroche is not the best singer, he gets shot once and keeps reaching for the bullets, and only stops when they riddle him with bullets. Also, I didn’t realize this until skipping around in the video to write this, but I think they kind of tried to retain some of the Gavroche-Grantaire relationship that the US Tour established? Grantaire goes from being kinda listless stage left to bolting over to the barricade once Gavroche starts climbing, reaching for him desperately; he gets shot in the leg and goes down and spends the rest of Gavroche’s lines up to his death with his head in his hands. Once Gavroche dies, Enjolras actually checks on Grantaire and wraps a tourniquet around his leg while Feuilly and Marius tend to Gavroche’s body.

Marius gets a thigh injury during The Final Battle (we know this because this production shows Actual Blood! Gavroche is actually bleeding! Eponine, too! And Marius! And Enjolras! Like there’s actual red and it makes it so much more intense! Anyway, Marius gets a bullet to the thigh, which frankly I think makes a lot more sense than the shoulder injury he gets in canon at least in terms of him being unconscious for so long (although I guess in canon he also has at least one head injury so meh). Anyway, Valjean sees it and immediately tourniquets him as one by one all the revolutionaries are picked off by bullets.

This Enjolras death is my favorite I’ve ever seen. We don’t get a permets-tu scene, but that’s okay because this is fantastic in another way. Enjolras doesn’t die on the barricade.

Enjolras is standing center stage, the bodies of his friends around him. He’s shot once, in the stomach, and goes down on all fours. As he’s on the floor, SWAT cops surround him, pointing machine guns straight at him. Enjolras struggles up, standing, and faces the cops and the audience. He raises his hand in a defiant fist to the air and is shot in the head.

Then there is a long, long stretch of silence. Quite literally an entire minute (I just counted) of silence, where there is no music, no speaking, nothing. Just the sounds of SWAT walking around, checking the bodies on the floor, and the indistinct sound of walky-talky chatter. Only after a whole minute of silence has passed and the SWAT leave the stage do the little plucked notes and the clarinet playing the Bring Him Home instrumental begin as Valjean stands up.

Valjean actually goes over and checks Enjolras’ pulse to see if he could possibly be alive, which I think hurts A Lot. And then there’s a moment where he looks around at all the bodies on the floor and kind of doubles over in shock, but only for a moment, and then he’s bolting back over to Marius to make sure he’s still breathing and then heaving him up into his arms.

(By the way, the bodies of the revolutionaries remain onstage through all of the proceeding songs.)

Dog Eat Dog is a boring, crap song in every production, and this one is no exception. The guy playing Thenardier is quite good but there’s really no way to redeem how boring a song Dog Eat Dog is. Also, this version cuts out the long instrumental part of Valjean walking with Marius through the sewer due to the fact that they don’t have that crazy projection thing. Instead it’s just a few seconds of him dragging Marius before encountering Thenardier and then also a few seconds before encountering Javert. Also, Valjean straight up puts his chest against Javert’s gun while he’s asking to save Marius’ life. Brave as fuck.

Okay this Javert’s Suicide was mostly really really good. Edward Watts gives Javert this sort of frantic emotion that Valjean spared him on the barricade and then is only asking to save this stranger. He looks genuinely freaked out and distressed. It’s not just confusion, it’s like actual Freaking Out. The only part I didn’t like was the actual throwing himself off the bridge part, but honestly I feel like there really is no way to do that part in a way that isn’t a little ridiculous-seeming. It’s hard to have a show where they never had any sort of fly rigs or any special types of practical effects at all and then suddenly there’s a guy flying through the air? and take that seriously. I dunno. But in any case, the rest of it is really good because the frantic confusion and questioning and anger and sadness and everything is so well done. Also, he takes his cross out of his pocket and drops it on the ground before he jumps, like he believes even god has failed him.

And then the lights return and the bodies of the revolutionaries are still onstage, with police tape cordoning them off. Turning begins with women in black mourning clothes coming onstage: at first they stand behind the tape with candles and flowers and teddy bears, then someone breaks the tape and they move to sit beside the bodies and set flowers down beside them. As Turning is going on, as the women move to sit beside the bodies, Marius also enters and sits in a chair upstage.

So Empty Chairs At Empty Tables happens with the bodies of the revolutionaries lying on the floor right in front of Marius, and women in black kneeling beside the bodies, facing upstage. But as Marius sings “Phantom faces at the window, phantom shadows on the floor,” the revolutionaries rise and move downstage, looking at him. They all make their little group hand sign before exiting, until it’s just Enjolras looking at him, then he makes the sign as well and exits and Marius is left alone with the mourning women in front of him and his hand raised in farewell. It’s just SO GOOD because I think it makes it all the more real. It feels like he’s actually singing to the bodies of his friends as well as their memories, like he’s full of survivor’s guilt and he’s watching them walk away from him and doesn’t know what to do. Combining the Turning Women’s mourning with Marius’ mourning is really cool, because it shows it’s really not just Marius that’s affected by this, and essentially he’s singing Empty Chairs for himself as well as the women in mourning kneeling on the stage before him.

Side note: Dorcas Leung, who plays Cosette, is a True Fucking Soprano. Her voice is SO high. It’s wild. Like, really wild. Like, glass-breaking high but in a good way. Also she’s really cute.

Anyway, the next thing I took note of was Valjean telling Marius why he was leaving without telling Cosette goodbye. He sings “Promise me, Monsieur, Cosette will never know” and puts his hand out in a way that’s partially imploring, and partially asking for a handshake on the promise. Marius says “For the sake of Cosette, it must be so,” but pointedly does not shake his hand. He’s going to honor the promise but he’s not gonna fucking like it.

Wedding Chorale/Beggars At The Feast is mostly unremarkable except that Mme Thenardier is dressed like Cruella de Ville. Oh, and Thenardier gets a kick in the balls instead of a punch to the face from Marius. Also the actor who played Combeferre and the actor who played Bossuet are dancing together so during Beggars At The Feast when Thenardier sings “This one’s a queer, but what can you do?”, the Combeferre actor does a little wave.

I’ve always hated in the musical that Valjean goes from being perfectly healthy to straight up dying in a matter of minutes but I also understand that montages of like a year are hard to do in musical format, so I forgive it but it’s still annoying.

Anyway, this Epilogue is FUCKING FANTASTIC. Valjean does this beautiful laugh of relief and amazement when Fantine tells him “And you will be with god” like he’s still amazed after all these years that he’s a Good Person Who Deserves Heaven.

Also, Fantine sits down on the bench beside Valjean, and then when Marius and Cosette enters, Cosette runs and sits down between Valjean and Fantine, facing Valjean, and there’s a moment where Fantine smiles in disbelief and strokes Cosette’s hair like “oh my god this is my daughter!”

Finally, the fucking kicker for me: “Take my hand, I’ll lead you to salvation / Take my love, for love is everlasting.” That’s always the moment in the show when I start actually crying and this one made it even sadder: Eponine is not the only one to enter in that moment. Eponine enters singing the duet with Fantine like usual, but Enjolras and Gavroche also enter, standing behind her, not singing.

This was such a great, fascinating, unique decision, and I fucking loved it. Because with that group, you have all the types of love and belief that are Important in the Brick: Fantine, the love of a mother. Valjean, the love of a father and the faith and belief that comes from someone else suddenly believing in you and the goodness that is a result of that. Marius and Cosette, romantic love, but also love of children and chosen family. Eponine, unrequited love and sacrifice. Gavroche, not necessarily love but an innocent death, a death from the goodness that comes from wanting to help. And Enjolras, the love of the people, the belief in the people, love of patria and the belief in justice. Just all of these important symbols standing together.

Then Do You Hear The People Sing reprise starts up, and the rest of the cast enter and stand at the edges of the stage around the group at center before everyone scatters out and spreads across the stage.

So basically that was an incredible fucking show. Like, okay. Since joining the Les Mis fandom in late 2011-ish or something I've read A LOT of Les Mis fanfics, I've read the entire book, seen the show live half a dozen times plus a ton of filmed boots and movie adaptations and last year's BBC miniseries. I've got a Les Mis tattoo and I'm vaguely thinking of getting another one. I've read fanfic taking place in canon era, modern day, Mai 1968, the 90s, the 40s, and on and on. All of them are important because all of them interpret the themes differently. Basically what I'm saying is I've consumed A Lot of Les Miserables.

But this version of Les Mis is So Important. Like, it's important enough I'm really surprised they didn't give in to the call for a DVD recording back in 2014.

Because the difference between like, the traditional version of the show, and reading a modern day AU fanfiction, and this Dallas show is that this Dallas show is In Front Of You. It's important because you're used to seeing this show with 19th century clothes and 19th century mannerisms so you don't necessarily connect it to today, or you do on a surface level only.

And in fanfics you can imagine it, but it's not the same.

But this show takes the music we all know and the characters we all know and places it in front of us NOW. We get Valjean in an orange jumpsuit, posturing like we've seen people posture in real life. We get Enjolras in a denim vest and button pins. We get Fantine, a woman of color, being fired for having a child out of wedlock and being accused of prostitution, and having to actually turn to prostitution. And we get a depiction that shows so viscerally how horrible that is. We get white people as cops (SWAT, no less) while POC are abused.

Suddenly this is a show that connects on every level.

And not only that but the visuals of the actual rebellion can be connected to so many movements and protests and things that have happened in recent years. Like with the Toyi-Toyi. And all the signs and pins and face paint and weapons and clothes and even to some extent the barricade.

And the cops going from soldiers with bayonets (which, to be fair, back in the day were pretty daunting weapons with their triangular blades, but we don't see them that way) to SWAT with helmets that black out their faces and semi-automatics is a a hard-hitting message.

And I've always thought it was funny that people who see the show casually think it's about Marius & Cosette's romance. Because that’s not all it’s about, of course. But this version made me really, really realize how little that romance matters in the musical. How much the musical is about Valjean, and then in tandem about the rebellion. Because place the whole "I've known you a day and I'm in love" thing in a modern setting and you realize how ridiculous it is, and how much more important Valjean's growth is, and how much more important the movement and the rebellion is. I mean the entire book is just about the Power Of Love And Belief In All Its Forms etc etc. But I think this version pointed out better than any other how many other forms of love exist in this story, besides the romance of Marius and Cosette.

But truly I think the most important thing that this show did is what I mentioned earlier: it placed the story, its themes, its characters, its rebellion, it's Love and Belief, in the Here And Now, and made it really, truly connect with its audience and the present world. This is a show that people always say is so relevant, so important, and it is. It really is. But sometimes, for a casual viewer, it’s hard to see past the period costumes and sets. And then you transplant the show into modern dress and modern sets and suddenly it’s a story that is just as believable and hard-hitting and important now as it was then. Suddenly you can connect with these characters and you can see these things happening in real life, in present day, and you can believe that it would happen.

It just blows my mind that we have all these Modern AU fanfiction pieces, that we have multiple groups of people doing Modern Les Mis Youtube interpretations, that there’s a Spanish musical out there that’s purely about Grantaire (which, god I wish there was more info on!), that there’s a ton of music and TV adaptations and yet this is the first time I’ve seen a professional company do any sort of modern interpretation of the show. And it works SO incredibly well and is SO hard-hitting and just took my breath away.

Uh so yeah such massive praise to the Dallas Theater Center for having the courage and imagination and awesomeness to finally do a modern version of this story because they knocked it out of the damn park and made an already important story even more important.

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

-

“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn’t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

[vagrantblvrd]

Strange Luck (1/1)

Summary: The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Notes: This wasn't supposed to be a Thing, but I kept thinking about this post and it happened anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Read on AO3)

The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Always some vital component to it that no one’s seen or even heard of for at least a generation or two, or it’s so rare it’s only known to grown in a certain climate in certain conditions.

Half the time there’s a complicated riddle or bit of prose Michael has to untangle to even figure out what those conditions are.

Pretentious as fuck about it too like, “blooming under the light of the second full moon of the month as it fights against its celestial confines in a bid to join with the Earth, shining red as blood” or some bullshit like that he has to explain to someone to see if they have it in stock.

If he’s lucky one of his contacts for that kind of thing will know a place that might carry said ingredient or know how to get it for him.

Take this little shop hidden away between a used bookstore and a trendy hipster coffee shop in what used to be a bustling strip mall. Renovated after who knows many years and shuttered businesses thanks to a changing city and economic ups and downs. The whole thing’s been turned into one of those outside malls and that’s bouncing back.

Michael goes past it almost every on his way for one job or another. He’s sure it wasn’t here a yesterday afternoon taking up space in what used to be an ice cream place, but shops like this tend to have what he needs.

There’s a bell over the door that rings when he walks in, something off about them that has him glancing upwards -

“Oh, a customer, how lovely!” someone says, pulling Michael’s attention from the bell towards the guy behind the counter.

Tall, broad-shouldered and against what Michael's used to seeing in shops like these he’s wearing a graphic print t-shirt and a hoodie. What looks like a pair of jeans and while Michael can’t see his shoes from here, he’s betting on sneakers or something similar. (Maybe.)

The counter he’s standing behind is the same one Michael remembers when he used to stop by when it was still an ice cream shop. Refrigerated glass cases and everything else, which.

It gives him pause for a moment, wondering if he stepped into the coffee shop instead, but there’s no smell of coffee or a single hipster to be found. No poor beleaguered college student bemoaning their life choices in the middle of exams or soccer mom on her phone chattering to her friend about the latest neighborhood scandal.

There is, however, a cat.

An orange tabby curled up in a cat bed at the end of the counter watching Michael curiously, little purple collar with a bell around its neck.

Something just slightly off about it in the same way the bells over the door that tells Michael he is in the right place after all.

The shelves along the walls where the booths and tables used to be are full of little glass bottles and vials filled with dried plants and flowers and things Michael tries not to think to hard about sometimes.

A skull or two that seem to be decoration and not for sale. An actual skeleton in a corner that is for sale, and the shop itself smells like Geoff’s workshop.

Candle wax and incense. The lingering scent of the potions he and Jack brew to sell. Flowers and herbs and other things hanging up to dry.

When Michael looks back at the guy behind the counter he’s smiling at Michael in this deeply unsettling manner, which is another sign he’s in the right place.

All I’ve seen things your puny mortal mind cannot hope to comprehend and foolish mortal, dealing in things you don’t yet understand, with a side of step into my parlor which is on the rarer end of the spectrum and something he only sees in the creepier shopkeepers.

So.

It’s going to be one of those days.

“Hey, uh,” Michael says, fumbling for the piece of paper with the list of ingredients and other things he needs as he walks over to the counter.

Some of them are for Gavin, the lazy bastard, and Geoff asked him to pick up some stuff to restock his stores if he got the chance. He promised to pick up a new mortar and pestle for Jack to replace the one Gavin broke last week too.

It might be smarter to go to one of his regular shops for the rest of the things he needs, but he has a busy schedule filled with clients and other errands as it is. Doesn’t feel like driving to the other end of the city on top of everything else.

“I have a few things to get, and one of them is hard to find. I saw your shop and thought maybe you could help?”

He hands the guy the paper, watches him read it and sees the slight frown as he hits the part where Michael had to stop and do some research to figure out what the hell the spell was asking him to get.

In hindsight, he should have written his shopping list on a seperate piece of paper, but he was too fucking irritated at the time to bother. (Took him a goddamned week buried in Geoff and Jack’s extensive library of spellbooks and other bullshit before he found his answer.

“Oh, wow,” the guy says, looking up at him. “That’s an incredibly rare ingredient.”

Yeah, Michael kind of figured, what with the very specific circumstances it needs to grow.

“It’s for a spell,” Michael says, decides it’s really none of the guy’s business what the spell is for, because hey.

Not to be rude?

But yeah, none of his business.

The guy hums, giving Michael this look Michael's also familiar with in places like this.

The last time situations were right for that ingredient to grow was about a year ago, and the time before that was over a hundred and fifty years. The chances of finding someone who has it or knows where Michael could find someone who does are – no pun intended – astronomical.

If this guy doesn’t have it and Michael can’t find it anywhere else, he’d have to wait at least that long before it grows again, maybe longer. (At which point Michael will be super dead and it won’t matter, so there’s that.)

“Yes, I will warn you...every item comes with a price,” he says, like all the other assholes before him Michael’s run into in shops like this.

Michael stares at him.

“...Yes,” he mimics, because he’s not in the mood for this bullshit. “I know how shops work.”

He’s not in the mood for this bullshit, but he’s also not an idiot. Knows better than to piss someone like him off, make an enemy of him or whatever. (Well, for the most part.)

The guy blinks at him like he’s not sure what’s going on, or just thinks Michael's an idiot.

He rallies quickly though, clearing his throat and looking around like there’s anyone else in the shop watching them. (Besides the cat, that is.)

“No,” he says, putting more emphasis into his words. “The price may be more than you expect to pay.”

He gives Michael this look, raised eyebrows and please tell me you’re not that dense and dear God, please don’t be that dense and a little why are you doing this to me?

Michael doesn’t know why he does it, he really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s the fact the guy seems relatively normal for someone running a shop like this. Maybe it’s the fact he’s already getting riled up and Michael hasn’t done anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact that Michael’s that much of an asshole, who can say.

“Yes,” he says. “I know how US taxes work too.”

There’s a tiny sneeze, this little jingling chime that has Michael looking over at the tabby just in time to see it hide a smirk as it gives itself a little shake.

From the corner of his eye Michael catches the shopkeeper shooting it a scowl, but when he turns back to him the guy has a polite smile on his face.

Too polite, like he’s not thinking up curses and hexes to place on Michael and everyone he holds dear or whatever else creepy bastards like him do for fun.

Michael should be worried. Shouldn’t be fucking with him at all, but he just. Can’t not, for whatever reason. Is, in fact, enjoying himself watching the poor guy try to keep his cool while his stupid cat laughs at him.

The guy laughs, and it’s. It’s a nice sound. Weird, too, kind of croaky in a way?

But just.

Nice?

Like his voice, and those eyes of his, and okay, look.

Michael’s getting sidetracked, but it’s been a long week and bound to be a long day and he’s just.

Yeah.

The guy makes this noise in the back of his throat, and plants his hands on the counter in front of him, strained smile on his face.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m evil and offering these wares with no regard for the harm they will do!” he says, voice cracking on the end because apparently he’s never had to deal with something as exasperating as Michael's proving to be.

Probably used to people showing him the proper reverence and whatever the hell after his first warning. Rethinking their decision to set foot in a magically (literally) appearing shop with a creepy shopkeeper and a cat that is definitely not a normal cat and all that. Making the right choice (or not) when it came to their reason for walking in when they should have known better and just. All that.

Instead, he got Michael and his low tolerance for bullshit of any kind, but especially the shopkeeper’s after the week he’s had.

Michael crosses his arms and scowls at the shopkeeper.

Normally at this point he’d be sharing the guy’s exasperation, but he’s having too much fun fucking with him.

“I know what capitalism is too, goddammit,” he says. “Now do you have the stuff I need or not?”

The guy stares at him, quietly seething and for a moment Michael sees something moving around in the back of his eyes – dark, sinister – before it gives the fuck up and rolls over. Shoulders slumping as he lowers his head to stare at the faux granite counter with its scuffs and scratches, little nicks.

Mutters something that sounds less like a dread curse or something along those lines and more like for fuck’s sake.

Michael glances over at a light chiming noise to see the tabby walking over to the shopkeeper, trilling softly as it bumps its head against his face, makes these little noises that definitely isn’t laughter.

Really.

The shopkeeper leans into it at first, and then sputters as the tabby continues walking arching its back to shove its fur into his face before hopping down and wandering off.

“Thank you,” the guy says, wiping fur out of his mouth as he scowls at the cat. “Really, no. Thank you ever so much for that.”

The cat shakes itself again, and meows in smug satisfaction.

The guys sighs, and looks up at Michael.

Seems wary, almost.

“As a matter of fact, I do happen to have the things on your list. If you don’t mind waiting, I can get them out of the back.”

He looks like he’s expecting Michael to give him more grief about things, which is both hilarious and kind of sad.

“Sounds great!” Michael says with a smile, all nice and friendly and perfect customer who would never dream of being difficult.

The guy eyes him, like he thinks it’s a trap of some kind. But when Michael just stands there smiling at him and waiting patiently, he shakes his head and heads off to the back storeroom muttering to himself.

Michael waits until he’s out of sight before he laughs, tries to hide it because the tabby’s watching him, but come the fuck on.

He doesn’t know how long it will take the guy to gather all the supplies on Michael's list, so he explores the shop. Looks into the glass cases around the counter to see they’ve been altered. No tubs of ice cream now, just neatly labeled bin full of spell and potion ingredients.

One of the cases is humming quietly, stocked with ingredients that require refrigeration to keep them fresh, which goes a long way to explain why the guy decided to put his shop here instead of the other empty stores around it.

Michael goes over to the bookshelves, and almost trips over the cat who lets out a sad little noise that has Michael staring down at it.

Looks like a normal cat in all the right ways, but the way its been acting is a dead giveaway it’s most likely the shopkeeper’s familiar or assistant. Too much of an asshole to be anything else, given it’s allowed to roam the shop freely.

Another sad cry and Michael rolls his eyes as he crouches to give it pets and scritches. God knows Gavin and Lindsay would find out somehow if he didn’t, give him shit about a cruel and heartless monster.

There’s a little pet tag on its collar, and curious, Michael catches it in his fingers to see what it says. The tabby flicks its ears but allows it, and Michael frowns at the name engraved on the pet tag.

“The fuck kind of name is ‘Rimmy Tim’?” he asks, because fucking really.

The cat gives him this look, ears swiveling back as it steps out of his reach with this little sniff, tag slipping through Michael's fingers.

Walks away in clear dismissal and jumps back up on the counter to curl up in its bed and turning its back to Michael as it does.

Michael sighs, because the cat has to be the shopkeepers familiar with that kind of attitude.

He goes back to exploring the store, making a mental note to ask the others if they need some of the things he sees being sold here when he gets home. (Assuming he can find the shop again after this, that is.)

There’s a wide array of rare and hard to find ingredients and other components here. A shelf of books he knows for sure Geoff and Jack would give a lot to add to their own collection. Other bits and bobs, as Gavin would put it, any of them would give a lot to have.

It’s that thought that finally has the reality of the situation sink in for Michael, odd shopkeeper out of the picture where the atmosphere of the shop sets in.

Little tug at the core him drawing him towards a small table in a corner, gem stones and crystals and other things laid out.

A cool whisper in the back of his mind pulling his attention towards one of the skulls on the shelves by the windows.

A raven from the look of it.

Creeping unease from the corner where the skeleton stands on display, runes carved into its bones and a wreath of dried flowers resting on top of its skull.

A dozen other little things calling for his attention, quiet whispers and murmuring that builds, and builds, and builds -

“I think I have everything here,” the guy says, voice startlingly loud in the cloying silence of the shop. “Do you - “

Michael looks over at him, heart beating double-time in his chest. Feels a little wild-eyed and expects to see a smug look on the guy’s face, or cool satisfaction at the way his shop and its wares have affected Michael, but.

He seems...confused at first, and then concerned.

Sweeps a look around the shop and the chaos in Michael's mind quiets, retreats like morning fog when the sun appears to chase it away.

Michael sways towards him without conscious thought, crosses the few feet to stand across from him to escape the faint chill that set in without his realization.

“You know better,” the guy says, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s scolding him, but then he realizes the shopkeeper’s frowning at the tabby.

In response the tabby curls up tighter in its bed, ears flat against its skull and lets out a pathetic mew in apology or explanation, Michael can’t understand it. Just knows whatever it is has the guy letting out a heavy sigh.

“Yes, well,” he says, setting a box down on the counter. “What do you expect when you insist on using that ridiculous name?”

The tabby makes an annoyed noise, but it gets out of its bed and comes to the edge of the counter where Michael’s standing and looks up at him.

Guilty, remorseful, tail flicking as it meows at him in apology.

Michael stares down at it.

He could, maybe should, be annoyed at it for that slip.

There’s an understanding, when customers enter a shop like this things like that aren’t allowed to happen.

A gesture of trust, or something close enough to it for certain transactions to take place. For those who are inexperienced enough, unwary, to enter and leave without trouble. (In good faith.)

But.

Michael insulted it, and things like that allows things like it an amount of leeway. (Loopholes.)

And to be fair, nothing permanent, damaging, took place while the guy was out of the room.

Just...a reminder.

One that Michael clearly needed because he let his guard down in here. Got so caught up in things that he forgot the danger to places like this, or made the mistake of underestimating it because the guy seemed so normal.

Human.

Dramatic, maybe, but not like the usual sort Michael’s met in shops like this.

Michael looks at the guy, surprised that he seems to be on Michael’s side in this after all the shit he gave him earlier. The guy tips his head to the side, eyebrow raised and leaving things in Michael’s hands.

Which.

“It’s fine,” Michael says, because things could have gone worse.

He’s seen it before, less scrupulous shopkeepers than this one and his familiar and their deals with the unwise. Has had to clean up the mess afterward and inform the unfortunate victim’s family and friends who hired him to find out what happened to their loved one.

Michael should be the one who knew better in this case.

“Just a miscommunication.”

The guy hums, something thoughtful to it as he reaches out to the tabby and gives it a scritch under its chin. It leans in to his touch in relief, eyes closing briefly before it decides its had enough and hops off the counter to disappear into the storeroom.

Michael snorts, eyeing the box the guy brought out with him.

“Oh,” the guy says, almost sounding sheepish, “sorry about that.”

He holds Michael's list in one hand as he goes over the contents of the box.

Glass bottles with the ingredients Gavin and Geoff wanted and little paper parcels for the rest. The replacement mortar and pestle Jack wanted, and most importantly the stupidly rare ingredient he needs for his spell.

When he’s done he hands Michael his list and smiles at him.

A normal smile.

No creepy shopkeeper with his mysterious shop and even more mysterious wares. Cat familiar and all kinds of secrets waiting to be discovered, for a price.

“Were you looking for anything else today?”

He’s still smiling.

None of his dramatics or theatrics, just a guy in a t-shirt with the NASA logo behind the counter of his little shop and it’s.

It’s certainly something.

“Uh,” Michael says, clearing his throat and giving himself a mental shake to let everything settle back into place. “No. No, that should do it.”

The guy shrugs and starts ringing him up using the cash register, pauses before he hits the total and smiles again, this crooked little thing.

“We don’t take checks,” he says.

There’s.

He’s the one laughing at Michael now, gleam in his eye and very, very much an asshole.

Michael snorts as he pulls his wallet out.

“Credit card alright?” he asks.

The shops he regularly go to have started to accept them, though most still prefer cash Older ones will trade in favors, little ones that don’t cost much.

Places like this, though?

Hit or miss.

The guy laughs, and points at a sticker on the side the register with logos for the major credit card companies, so that’s one question answered.

Michael hands over his card and the guy finishes ringing him up, wishes him a nice day as he hands him back his card and a receipt and Michael picks up the box, ant turns to leave.

Gets a few feet away before he stops. Thinks about things in the kind of way where he really, really doesn't, and turns back to see the guy watching him with that crooked little smile on his face.

“Are,” Michael starts, not sure how to do this because wow, no. “Uh. Are you going to be here later?”

He glances around the shop and back to the guy, because it’s a valid question with places like this.

People like him.

They come and go and most times you never see them again. For the best, considering what they are, but sometimes...

The guy gives him an odd look, which is fair.

He probably doesn’t get questions like that all that often, and Michael doesn’t even know his name.

Has been referring to him as the guy and the shopkeeper in his head this whole time. (Maybe that asshole a time or two, he wouldn’t put it past himself.)

Michael watches as the guy – Jesus, there he goes again – takes in his shop before looking back at Michael.

“It’s possible,” he says slowly. “The location seems pleasant enough.”

Not a no, or even some frustratingly vague and cryptic answer about fleeting permanence or what the fuck ever Michael was expecting.

“Okay,” Michael says. “Great. Thank you.”

Jesus, he’s an idiot.

The guy must think so too, with the smile on his face, but thankfully he says nothing as Michael gets the hell out of there before he says or does anything else stupid.

Doesn’t risk glancing back to make sure the shop is still there once he’s outside, but he catches sight of the coffee shop sign next door to as he heads to his car.

Michael’s never been to it before, no time or reason to in between everything else going on in his life.

But…there’s this half-formed thought in the back of his mind maybe the guy wouldn’t be horrifically opposed to checking it out with him sometime if he and his shop do stick around a little longer.

...Or something, fuck if Michael knows.

Michael slams the trunk of his car harder than he means to, and stares at it for a long moment trying to untangle his thoughts.

Ridiculous, is what they are.

Stupid as hell.

Dangerous, too, considering what the guy is. (Might be? Michael doesn’t have a goddamned clue other than the usual.)

But.

He hadn’t reacted badly when Michael gave him shit, and.

He’s unfairly attractive. Has a nice smile, and an amazing voice and why not, really?

Can’t hurt to ask, right?

Later.

Michael sighs, laughing at himself as he goes around to the driver side of the car.

No need to get ahead himself right now anyway.

If the shop’s still here after he’s done with work, he can figure things out then.

Start by getting the guy’s name so he can stop calling him that in his head, and see where things go from there.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ Hello and welcome back to my second instalment of Fictober 2019; this time, one in which Stevie may or may not have a crush and David may or may not be intent on mocking her relentlessly. I will be writing for Fictober across a variety of fandoms, so make a request against a prompt or see what’s coming up for me, see this post. In the meantime, enjoy!

Prompt number: 2. “Just follow me, I know the area.”

Fandom: David & Stevie, Schitt’s Creek

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Original Male Character, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Coarse Language, Mild Sexual References.

-

There was a stranger in the office.

This was probably to be expected, given that it was a motel and there were strangers here all the time, but after spending so long – if mostly reluctantly - calling the Rosebud home, David found it strange to be out of the loop when it came to new visitors. He was on the lounge reading a magazine, waiting to go to dinner with Stevie, when the newcomer arrived, looking far too distinguished and well-travelled for this fine establishment. He had a matching set of cabin and hand luggage, both suitcases on wheels, rather than the haphazard jumble of backpacks and duffels which were a staple around here, and he had arrived in a tweed suit rather than a tracksuit and trucker boots. He had on thick-rimmed rectangular glasses that David would have called hipster except that he didn’t seem to be wearing them because they were cool; in fact, while he cut a neat figure, he stood as if he thought he was decidedly uncool and had given up on trying to pretend otherwise. Very cool of him, David thought, but he wondered what Stevie would make of the poor man.

After an awkward glance around for assistance, the newcomer rang the service bell and leaned anxiously on the bench. David busied himself with a nearby magazine lest he be mistaken for staff, but there was no need for the flurry, as Stevie emerged from the back a moment later.

No greeting. Huh. David was sure his dad had been trying to get her to work on that.

“Good afternoon, madam,” greeted the customer. Ooh, a Brit. Don’t get many of those around here. David’s gossip senses tingled, and he surreptitiously folded a corner of the magazine down and watched as the stranger introduced himself as – “Richard. Richard Downing. I booked a room with your colleague, I believe, over the phone.”

“I- uh, yeah, okay- uh-,”

Like a deer in the headlights, Stevie stammered. David had to imagine she was playing cheesy music in her head, watching the lanky Brit shake out his afro of hair in slow motion. David bit his lip, praying that his snort of laughter wasn’t too loud as he watched Stevie silently curse herself and slam a fist onto the computer mouse to wake it up. She cleared her throat and forcibly dragged the conversation back on track.

“There you are, Richard Downing, Room Five. It’s just outside and to the right. I’d be happy to help you with your bags if you’d like..?”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” Richard assured her. “It’s a policy of mine that I never go anywhere with anything I can’t carry on my own. Bit of a point of pride, really.”

“Okay, well, if you need anything I’ll be right here, so...”

She was smiling like she couldn’t stop herself as she watched Richard ferry his bags back out the door with key in hand. She watched for a bit too long, in fact, and David couldn’t help but take the opportunity to sidle up to the desk, and remark in a manner even more camp than usual –

“He carries his own bags? Girl, marry him.”

Stevie baulked, and schooled her expression to glare at David instead. “Shut up.”

(That stupid smile crept back though. She couldn’t help it. There was a pleasant shiver at the back of her neck.)

“Also, if I may point out,” David continued, “you won’t be right here if he comes back because we’re going out for dinner. We are still going out, right? Because I’m starving, and I’m gonna be pissed if you ditch me for that hot piece of ass after making me sit here for the last twenty minutes.”

Stevie rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that said, it’s been two minutes, and you know it.

“You know what?” she said instead. “I think I’m gonna go change. D’you think your mom would help me with my hair?”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Stevie had just opened her mouth to unleash another jab, when David was saved the indignity by a knock at the door. Richard was back, and he cleared his throat and glanced between the two of them for a moment before continuing.

“I’m sorry, Ms Budd is it? I was wondering if I might trouble you for some towels?”

“Of course.”

Stevie rummaged below the counter, where they had learned to keep spare supplies for times like this. She emerged with a towel, bath mat, hand towel, and facecloth all folded one on top of the other, and passed the pile across the counter to Richard with a smile. There was nothing she could do but ignore the contortions of David’s face, which he was trying and failing to hide behind his magazine again.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

“I don’t suppose you’d have a map of the town, would you?”

“No, unfortunately we’re out,” Stevie said. “But don’t worry, I can get some in tomorrow. Or I guess I can just take you to Ray’s, since he’s the guy we get them from.”

“Oh. Thank you, but I was rather hoping to find a place for breakfast.”

“No problem, I know a place. I mean… I’ll take you to breakfast tomorrow morning if you like. I mean, not like take you take you, but like, I’ll be going to breakfast anyway. Just follow me, I know the area.”

Behind the magazine, David fake-coughed into his hand to stifle a laugh that contorted his whole body. Stevie started mentally digging a pit in the back of her mind – whether it was for David or for herself, she wasn’t sure yet. But Richard only seemed endeared by her blustering, and as much as the look on her face made a mortifyingly embarrassing heat creep up into her cheeks, she managed to keep it together as he thanked her, promised to meet her in the office at seven, and once again took his leave.

“- You know the area?!” David blurted as soon as the latch on the door had clicked shut. “It is literally one street.”

“It’s called customer service, asshole.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet it is.”

Stevie snatched the magazine from David’s hand, and David realised immediately that he’d made a mistake. For a split second, he thought about trying to cajole his way out of it, but before he could lose his entire advantage as Stevie made her way around the front desk, he changed his mind and ran for it, cackling with laughter the whole way down the street.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.6k

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: yikes i haven’t updated this in super long aaaaaaaaa also happy birthday to the nuttiest kid in all the land, jeon jungkook :-) 

“Hey have you read Witch Hazel yet?”

“Of course I have… Who hasn’t?”

“True, it really went viral after Snow made that tweet, huh.”

“I can’t believe how much power that bitch has…”

“Yeah but that jk.seagull boy is super talented regardless.”

“It’s just a shame he wastes his talent on Snow of all people.”

“Right? Like, can you imagine if he wrote something about Park Jimin?? It’d be even more popular than Witch Hazel will ever b-”

The gossip dissipates as you walk into the art room, as if your classmates know you’re the idol they’ve been shit talking. But of course, that isn’t the case. It’s simply your chilling aura that halts any conversation for a brief moment.

You set your guitar case down and take your usual seat at the same table as the only two people who don’t seem to mind your presence.

“Y/N, did you hear? Jungkook became an overnight sensation,” Taehyung whispers to you as he points at the black mass that’s slumped over the table.

“Are you trying to tell me he’s the one who wrote the infamous Witch Hazel?” you yawn, unamused. But out of curiosity you look over to the boy who’s all bundled up under his hood with his head resting against the table, trying to catch up on as much sleep as possible before class begins. There’s no way he could write a fanfic comic about you.

“What? No! No, no, no, no,” Taehyung laughs and pulls out his phone to show you the same tabloid you’d seen the other day—the one that claimed Snow and Jimin were secretly dating. He points to the ominous hooded figure in the background of the photos. “Someone pointed him out in the midst of the whole Snow-Jimin chaos and now he’s a Twitter meme.”

“What kind of meme…?” You only ask because Jungkook does give off major meme vibes. Maybe it’s the way he pairs his round Harry Potter glasses and baggy hoodie with the tiny silver gauges in his ear and the ripped jeans that hug his thighs. He’s like some weeby hipster fusion, and you aren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

You don’t know what you were actually expecting, but it does feel a little shitty when you find out the meme in question features Jungkook as a shocked grim reaper who accidentally kills Snow’s career. Suddenly, you remember why you had chosen to stay away from social media.

“Funny, right?” Taehyung pats his sleeping friend’s broad back to wake him up. “But what’s even funnier is the fact that the cold-hearted Y/N reads fanfic, too??” Jungkook’s head pops up and tilts when he spots you sitting at their table. Oh no. The weeb thinks you’re one of them.

“I don't really read fanfic, okay? It’s just that Witch Hazel happened to be all over the internet, so I was curious.” You wave your hands in defense, praying they don’t get the wrong idea.

“Did you like it?” It’s literally the first fucking time you recall Jungkook ever speaking to you. His voice is much softer towards you than when he chatters with Taehyung, and there’s a genuine curiosity and innocence in his eyes.

“It was fine.” It’s not like you can just say no to those big doe eyes. “I just can’t believe there are people out there who really see Snow as their muse…” And what a relief it is to know.

Jungkook nods, although it seems like he’d say more if he wasn’t so shy. You watch as he pulls out two pages from his sketchbook, one with a realistic sketch of Taehyung’s face, and the other a comic version of a nerdy Jungkook.

“Thanks, friend.” Taehyung slides the beautiful portrait of himself over to the desk space in front of him and angles it towards you. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, too bad you didn't draw it yourself, you snake,” you shake your head. Despite all the hardwork Jungkook put into the portrait, you can’t help but feel bothered by the fact that his friend almost fucked him over with their little deal.

“Aww, don’t be so bitter, Y/N. I’m sure Jungkook would be willing to draw you too if you gave him something in return~” Taehyung winks at you, and as much as you’d love to tell him off, you can’t.

“Shut up, Tae-”

“I don't need his help,” you cut Jungkook off, pulling out your own self-portrait. Somehow it looks a lot uglier now than when you had first finished it. But whatever. At least it’s your own work, your own art. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Both Taehyung and Jungkook stare at your art, not really knowing what to say. The more you look at it yourself, the more you see that it doesn’t resemble you.

“Hey it kind of looks like Sn-”

“Alright everyone, it’s time for class to begin.” You’re thankful that your professor cut Taehyung off before his loud mouth said too much. You can’t believe your idiot self accidentally drew your portrait as a glammed-up Snow with her beautiful blue eyes rather than as a bland college kid Y/N with no shits to give. “Let’s start by taking a look at all of our self-portraits.”

You watch as your classmates take out their drawings, some better than others, but none quite as terrible as your own. You suppose you shouldn’t feel bad, considering you didn’t enter a school of the arts with the intentions of becoming an artist with paints and a sketchbook like most of your drawing class did. You entered school with the intentions of becoming an artist with your guitar and notebook. And the only reason why you made the decision to include this unrelated class on your schedule was to escape your failures as the musician you wished to be.

“Taehyung, since you love to talk, why don’t you start us off by introducing your piece? And then we’ll just go around the classroom one-by-one.” Your professor gestures to Jungkook’s drawing of Taehyung’s face. Great. The last thing you want to do is show off your ugly Snow portrait to an entire room of people you don’t really feel close to. If any of them find out you’re an idol, you’ll have to quit school. That was the agreement you made with Seokjin after he encouraged you to give school a chance.

“Well, I’d like to think my portrait is pretty straightforward. My approach was to be as realistic as possible while accentuating my most defining features such as my long eyelashes and beauty marks. And I did this by…” Taehyung goes on and on in such detail about the portrait that he didn’t even draw. It’s actually quite impressive. You envy his ability to speak with such confidence and charisma in a way that makes everyone believe his shitty art skills could produce something so beautiful. He knows how to make everyone his friend.

“Can you believe Taehyung’s that talented at drawing despite being a photography major?” You hear two girls whispering amongst themselves. “He’s incredible.”

Next is Jungkook. You snicker a bit at his drawing because it’s not exactly what you’d expect from the art genius of the class. While he had made Taehyung’s portrait super realistic, his own portrait looks like a bespectacled nerd that came straight out of a manga. Weeb. The thing that stands out most is his big nose. But you find it kind of cute.

“I just drew myself in comic form because that’s what I was most comfortable with,” he says, staring down at his sketch. You can tell he kind of trolled by overemphasizing with some dynamic lines for a more dramatic effect on his meme face.

“Amazing job as always, Jungkook,” your professor gives the boy a thumbs up in approval and elaborates further on the refined techniques he incorporated into the assignment. Jungkook only nods in response to the nice feedback. You appreciate how humble he is despite the professional level of his art. In the corner of your eye, however, you swear you see the same pair of Taehyung fangirls roll their eyes.

Finally it’s your turn. It’s unfortunate that you have to show your shitty artwork right after Jungkook’s two masterpieces, but it could be worse. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time your artistic ability has been criticized and compared with others. As an idol, you deal with that all the time.

“My self-portrait doesn’t look like me because it’s like a mask that superheroes wear to conceal their identities. So people don’t know what’s really hiding beneath the surface.” You don’t mean to darken the mood, but that’s the best way to put it without explicitly saying you have another identity as Snow. No one in your class makes a comment, but you suppose that’s expected. They wouldn't understand.

“And the blue eyes?” You wish your professor wouldn’t prompt you with more questions. Why couldn't she just say you did a good job and move on like she did with everyone else? You feel singled-out.

“I think they’re prettier than my real eyes.” You don’t want to tell everyone you’re a cold-hearted ice queen, but you aren’t completely lying either. Back when you first entered Polar Entertainment, you remember thinking it’d be cute to wear those icy blue contacts for your audition. And you suppose it paid off because you were told you were beautiful with a beautiful voice, perfectly suited to be an idol. But an idol was never what you wanted to be. Beauty wasn’t what you wanted to be remembered by, but that seems to be the only thing people ever praise Snow for.

“So your portrait is more of a reflection of who you’d like to be?” Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

“Yeah,” you say, in hopes that your professor will move on to pestering the next person. Thankfully, she does.

After wasting the majority of class on showcasing everyone’s artwork, your professor announces that there’s a “phase two” in the portrait unit. The new assignment is basically to draw yourself again, “but with the interpretation and direction from two of your classmates.” Your professor also notes that this group project requires a lot of work and interaction outside of class, and that you should get to know your groupmates really well in order to succeed in this assignment. Fantastic. You hate group projects.

You remember the horror stories from high school of being that one kid who couldn’t find a group, or having incompetent groupmates who let you down. You’d much prefer to do the work all on your own. Especially when you know your class has some pretty incompetent students of its own, namely Kim Taehyung. You’d hate to be stuck with that guy.

“Psst, Jungkook, Y/N. Wanna be in a group together?” No, you do not want to be in a group with Taehyung. However, you’re in no position to turn down his offer. Because you’re sure everyone else in your class wouldn’t appreciate having you on their team. That's just the way things are.

“Sure,” you say. Jungkook nods after you. Perhaps working with Jungkook will outweigh being dragged down by a slacker like Taehyung.

“Great, should we hangout after class today? Today’s like the one time I don’t have a date planned.” Taehyung flips through the filled calendar on his phone before handing his phone over for you to give him your number. After doing so, you check your own phone for a text from the boy with his number, but instead you find a message from your boss.

2:46PM monster lady👹 “Snow-- Seokjin informed me that you’ve requested to take time off from work. In light of this and the current situation regarding Park Jimin, please drop by my office today so we can have an open discussion about the best option for you moving forward.”

“I can’t, I have somewhere to go after class. Sorry guys.” You only feel bad because you’re the one holding them back.

“Where do you have to go? Is it a date?” Taehyung asks. Why does this guy only ever think about dates?

“No…” you answer, praying he’ll stop being so nosy.

“Then what-”

“Actually, I’m busy today too,” Jungkook adds before the other boy can say anything else. “I have to do a bunch of drawings for my animation class.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Taehyung shakes his head at you and Jungkook, as if he’s the responsible one in the group. “How did I get stuck with the two most antisocial people in the class?”

“You’re the one who asked us,” is what you want to say, but Jungkook says it for you.

“Fine, fine,” the other boy gives in because he knows he’ll fail the class without his buddy. “I’ll go get laid tonight, I guess.”

You nod, packing your things into bag and picking up your guitar. Before you leave, you realize you forgot something.

“Can I get your number too?” You point your guitar case in Jungkook’s direction. Flustered, he feels around his entire hoodie for his phone, only to remember it’s in the ass pocket of those tight jeans. He looks a bit hesitant about swapping phones with you, and you think it’s probably because he’s never gotten a girl’s number before.

But of course, it’s actually because he’s embarrassed by his lockscreen, a bright photo of Snow with a soft yellow sundress and her guitar. You remember you’d been excited for that photoshoot because you didn’t have to do any of the usual pin-up modeling that your company loves to milk out of you. But it’ll forever leave a bitter taste in your mouth because of the guitar. It was merely a prop, and nothing more.

You don’t say anything as you input your number into his phone, but you’ll never understand his infatuation with an idol as one-dimensional as Snow. Especially when he hasn’t even met her.

-

As you walk down the halls of your company’s building, you try not to get your hopes up. Sure, your boss might’ve sent you a friendly little text about having an “open discussion” with you, but you know she probably already has her mind made up on whatever’ll be best for herself and her company.

Knock. “Come in,” an authoritative voice calls out from the other side of the door. A middle-aged lady with round reading glasses and an edgy A-line bob sits at her desk, hands clasped together, when you step into her office. Yang Sooyoung, CEO of Polar Entertainment, the woman you’ve despised for the majority of your idol career, gestures for you to take the seat in front of her. “How are you today, Snow?”

“Good,” you lie. She doesn’t really give a shit about your well-being anyway, so why bother humoring her.

“That’s good,” she nods. “Were you busy earlier?” You know she’s only asking you this because she’s ticked off that you didn’t come sooner.

“I was just running some errands on my day off.” She isn’t aware that you attend school, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“Oh, I see. But please do try to make this your priority, just as we make you ours.”

“Of course.”

“That being said, we believe it’s best for you to apologize for the recent incident with Park Jimin. After we release a statement, you’ll be able to enjoy your time away from idol work, free of stress.”

“What exactly do you want me to apologize for?” You try your best not to come off sounding too annoyed, but you were never good at acting. Or being fake.

“For being too friendly with the boy, and as a result, causing a misunderstanding.” For being too friendly with a boy? All you recall doing was talking to Jimin for five minutes max.

“I need to apologize for that?”

“Yes,” she nods, completely serious. “I know you shouldn’t have to apologize, but it’s the most efficient way of handling the situation. I spoke to a representative from Bloom Entertainment, and they’ve already dealt with Jimin’s side.”

“I’ll clarify what happened in order to clear up any misunderstanding,” you say. “But I’m still not going to say sorry when I did nothing wrong.”

Your boss raises her pointy eyebrows and shakes her head. “Snow, for the sake of damage control, please just apologize. It doesn’t matter if it’s genuine or not. We just need to handle things professionally here.”

It doesn’t matter if you’re genuine. Just hearing those words infuriates you. “I can’t pretend like I’m obligated to apologize all the time just because I’m an idol with flaws. I don’t owe society anything.”

“But you do owe me and my company something, don’t you think? Who gave you the opportunity to become an idol in the first place? Me. So if you can’t suck it up and apologize to preserve my company’s reputation, then don’t call yourself an idol.”

What you want to do is quit and let your shitty boss rot with her company. The only reason her company has prospered is because of you—not the other way around. Ever since becoming an idol, you’ve felt more dead than alive. Snow, the fabricated idol, may be prospering. But Y/N, the actual girl behind Snow’s mask, is fading.

At the same time, you know you can’t quit. Not for the sake of the company, nor for the sake of money and fame, but for the sake of becoming someone’s hero, anyone’s hero. If you could achieve that goal through other means, you would. But at this rate, being the idol you hate is all you can do to make people happy. At least for now.

So you make your apology and let PR handle the rest. In exchange, you’re given a maximum of half a year to get your shit together before your contract expires.

-

That night, you lay sprawled out on your bed in your pink penguin pajamas. Rather than filling your mind with the toxicity you’ve been dealing with for the past few days, you try to let it go for now. Despite the frustrating talk you had with your boss, reality is sinking in that you have a nice long break ahead. You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so relieved. Free.

You even made a promise to yourself that you’d steer far, far away from anything Snow or idol-related for the next few weeks. And there are only two exceptions you’ll make.

The first exception is your manager. As your one and only friend, you do rely on Seokjin more than you’d like to admit. Because not only does he keep you from doing irrational things as an idol, he also keeps you company on your days off from work and school. The two of you get along quite well, and he’s the only person you can be yourself around. He’s like your life boat—without him, you surely would’ve sunk long ago.

The second exception is Witch Hazel. And as soon as you curl up into your bed, you go to the jk.seagull blog, now bookmarked on your phone’s browser. He has several short posts added to his blog since the last time you checked.

“asdfghjkl;;;;”

“sHE!!!”

“i cant believe snow saw witch hazel?? and even tweeted about it??”

“guys this makes me so happy :((((”

“brb crying”

“ok im back but holy fuck wow”

“anyway thank you guys so much for showing this comic a lot of love and support :(((”

“ill try my best to make pt.2 even better! i might be a little busy with art school, but please anticipate another update soon!”

He’s an art student like you. He’s enthusiastic about sharing his art with others, like the way you feel when releasing a new album. He’s genuinely grateful for the support from his audience, like the way you feel at the end of every concert. But he does it all behind a mask, just like you.

Just as you’re about to close your browser and text Seokjin about spending the night, a new post pops up on jk.seagull’s blog.

“lmao heres a sneak peek of pt.2 that no one asked for~”

Beneath the caption is a sketch of little Snow trying to make friends with a bunny boy character, but she fails because she’s too much of a stubborn tsundere. You assume this new bunny character must be a fellow superhero of some sort, a possible ally or maybe even a romantic interest. Either way, you find it both cute and hilarious. Snow could never have a romantic interest in real life, but you suppose it’s nice to dream. At the same time, you laugh because it’s true that you struggle with being too stubborn and closed off to make friends. Somehow, this jk.seagull guy knows you too well.

With that, you close your browser and open the messaging app on your phone. But rather than texting Seokjin like you had originally planned, you start a new chat.

9:37PM Y/N “Taehyung, Jungkook, let’s meet up tomorrow morning if you guys are free to work on the project”

9:38PM Y/N “💃💃💃”

You aren’t sure why you felt the need to include a stream of dancing girl emojis, but maybe it’s the least you can do in an effort to be more friendly.

9:40PM Taehyung “Yeah I’m not free lol”

9:40PM Jungkook “im free💃💃💃”

You’re so distracted by the fact that Jungkook reciprocated the same dancing girl emojis that you skim right over Taehyung’s message.

9:41PM Y/N “Good. Let’s meet at the mall tomorrow at 10?”

A/N: next time on dragon ball z, y/n and jungkook will legit interact, i swear💋

[toushindai]

30 Day OC Challenge: Introductions

OK so what happened is, I came up with like, this whole collection of millennial OCs who all know each other. They are all my precious children and I want to tell you about them, so here goes!! This challenge recommends starting with “first impressions” but I’m gonna do that and how they came into existence in my brain.

Kendrick: male/experimenting with a genderqueer identity. White. Most of his hair is dark and cropped short except for a longer, bleached section at the top of his head. He has a neat, short beard and light blue eyes. He’s kinda tall, pretty jacked. Dresses like a hipster. Likes the way he looks in feminine or at least femme presentation, isn’t sure yet what that means. | He exists...... because I wanted someone I could consistently draw for Kinktober over on the other blog. He’s kinky as fuck, my friends and foes.

Lucy: cis female. Blonde, shoulder-length hair with sideswept bangs. Chubby. Has dimples when she smiles. Looks very glamorous, like she is very experienced in having a lot of money. (Because she is very experienced in having a lot of money.) Accessorizes very well. When dressing casually, she likes to wear dresses with loose skirts.There’s a (nsfw for nudity) picture of her here. | Her creation followed Kendrick’s; they’re married and they adore each other.

Jiang Wu: male, I haven’t decided whether he’s trans or cis yet; depends on where I wanna go with the scene I’m writing that includes him. Second-generation Chinese American. ...Honestly I’ve not drawn him yet to solidify exactly what he looks like but in the meantime I’m basically picturing Manny Jacinto aka Jason Mendoza from The Good Place. He dresses a bit hipster too, but a more casual hipster than Kendrick’s. | He’s appearing in a smutty scene I’m writing about Lucy and Kendrick. |D

Cat Ibarra: cis female. White-passing Latina. Petite with straight dark hair slightly longer than shoulder length. Freckles across her face and on her shoulders. She’s capable of rocking a femme professional look, but left to her own devices, she dresses for comfort and wears casual ungendered clothes but in a feminine way? If that makes sense. Tends to wear long sleeves to hide self-injury scars. | OK so maybe you know Cat already!! She’s the main character of my novella “The Loophole” Obligatory Amazon Link. Fun fact, the original source for her character is uhhh this smutty fanfic I wrote for Ace Attorney Investigations so she’s originally an expy of “““““Calisto Yew.”“““““” “Loophole” is... kinda her bad end. This continuity is going to be a better end for her. ...But life’s still gonna be hard for her for a while.

Jessica: trans female. Jewish. Haven’t figured out her appearance yet. Taller than Cat, but that’s not hard. I’ll get back to you on that one. | She came into existence when I wanted to write a one-shot about revised!Cat. Was initially a Tinder date for Cat, they hit it off in spite of Cat’s significant self-worth issues.

Ridley: agender. Stocky, a bit taller than Cat. White. Younger than most of these characters, might actually be Gen Z or on the cusp depending on when I want to set this in time. Buzzes their hair. Tends to wear very rough clothing. Ripped denim vests over graphic t-shirts and cargo jeans. Glasses. | They came into existence in the process of revising Cat’s story; the two of them meet at a church support group for “~those suffering from same-sex attraction~,” both ordered to attend by their respective parents. Cat wants to prove that it’s possible to be queer and happy so that they have hope for the future, but... she’s not well enough herself to be a mentor yet.

Giselle: cis female. Thin and a bit willowy but not tall. Likes to dye her hair in neon colors in the blue/purple range, at least during college; it’s wavy and sweeps her shoulders. Gray eyes. Pointed chin and a nose that’s a bit beakier than she likes. Goddamn stunning when she smiles. A bit of an edgy femme look. Wears simple jewelry. | ...Giselle came into existence entirely as a repository for headcanons I have about Red Transistor that are so far divorced from canon text that like there’s no point in calling them thoughts about Red but also I really like the characterization so creates a new OC here she is!!! But then she immediately became unlike Red. ...Mostly in the fact that she is nerdy as hell and not at all in cool ways.

Chichima: cis female. Very dark-skinned first generation Nigerian-American. Other than that I’ve got nothing on her so far in terms of looks, will work on this. | She was Giselle’s college girlfriend, although they broke up when Giselle’s mental health took a nosedive.