#these are the things I think about while scribbling down fic ideas

[radiantlyrey]

Thinking TRON thoughts (when am I not these days, lbr) and thinking about what if Flynn had told Alan and Lora about the Grid, but ESPECIALLY thinking about Lora’s reaction.

The digitizing laser was “her life’s work” according to what she says in TRON. So what would be her reaction to finding out that 1. Flynn has a mini(ish) version of her laser in the basement of his arcade and 2. he has been using it to digitize HIMSELF?!?

I think her first reaction would be something akin to “you’re doing What.” followed by “wait that can’t be possible” followed by “wait. what are you experiencing when you digitize yourself” and then pure scientific interest takes over and she starts taking notes as Flynn explains. And then asks to be digitized herself for the sake of getting a larger sample size.

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which two twin gangsters return home after years in Chicago, to 2003 Jackson, Mississippi. Only to find that the chubby, brace-faced tomboy from across the street has grown into a woman they can’t ignore.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - drug use, swearing

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - something short because I literally have five other Smoke and Stack fics cooking in my drafts

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2,178+

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

It always started with noise. Summer in Mississippi wasn’t just heat and humidity—it was loud. Between the swatting screen doors, the bugs flying, kids playing double dutch with mismatched ropes, and the rickety hum of box fans, it was hard to hear yourself think. But for young Juicy, the noise was a comfort… until it wasn’t.

Back in ‘95, Juicy was about eleven, braces still fresh, glasses sliding down her nose every five minutes, and dressed in a floral pattered dress that matches her sisters, though hers fit her more boxier than it did on the older girl. But she didn’t care much about appearances, and it didn’t help that her mama always compared her to her older sister, Sinclair, thin and pretty like the girls in those Jet beauty ads or the ones on the perm boxes. “If only you laid off them pork chops,” was her mama’s idea of encouragement. Her daddy didn’t say much at all.

Juicy found her peace elsewhere—mainly across the street.

The Moore twins, Elias and Elijah—known as Smoke and Stack to others—were about six years older, fast-mouthed, sharp-eyed boys sly grins and problems they never spoke too loudly about. Their father was known around the neighborhood for being the kind of man who left bruises instead of blessings, and their mother was long gone. But the Hall’s took to them like family. Martin, Juicy’s older brother, clicked with them right away over cassette tapes and corner store hustles. Sinclair even crushed on Stack for a while, though he never acted on it.

But it was Juicy—a little awkward, big-bodied, and always scribbling in her notebook—who lingered in the background. She wasn’t really friends with the boys, not like her siblings were. But some days, when things were too loud at her house and Mary, her only friend, couldn’t come out, Smoke would let her sit on the porch with them, passing her a freeze cup and tossing her lazy jokes that made her laugh until her gums showed. Or when Stack would let her old onto him as she rode on back of his bike as he made stops around the neighborhood.

Those little moments were enough. They made her feel seen.

And then, they were gone. Moved up to Chicago when she was fifteen, chasing something bigger—money, maybe, or just a way out. Life moved on. And the city was still as loud as ever.

But in 2003, the block got loud again in their return.

They came back in a long black Lincoln, rolling slow like they owned the pavement. Elias drove, toothpick between his teeth, silver chains glinting in the sun as she rubbed down his waves. Elijah was in the passenger seat, shades low on his nose, hair in tight cornrows. They’d filled out—solid, broad-shouldered men now, still dressed in dark clothes with just enough shine to show they had money. Word spread fast.

Smoke and Stack were home.

First stop was the gas station—for fuel and the liquor store next to it, then the old park where half the benches were gone and the other half were tagged up in Sharpie and knife scratches, looking for their homeboy in his usual spot. A few heads turned, so they dapped up old friends, nodded at familiar faces.

But the real reunion happened on Vernon Street.

Martin Hall was leaned up against his Impala, blunt behind his ear, gold ring glinting. He caught sight of the car before it even parked at the house across the street, and when he caught sight of the men in the car, he instantly grinned.

“Nahhh, I know this ain’t who I think it is.” He shouted, arms already wide open.

Stack stepped out first, grinning, and then Smoke followed. The three embraced like no time had passed at all, Martin falling the men up. Loud laughs, back slaps, the kind of reunion that made neighbors peek through blinds.

“Man, what the hell are yall doing back? And ain’t told a nigga?” Marin asked as he leaned backed against his hood, taking the blunt his girlfriend passed him from her place in his serving seat.

“It was quick to us too, man.” Smoke said, shaking his head a bit. “Them Chiraq niggas different, too much shit going on up there.” He said, placing his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, his baggy white tee hanging from underneath a bit.

“Money was good, though.” Stack smirked, moving his gaze away from the woman in the car that was eyeing him with a lustful glint in her, to look at the against the hood.

“I bet.” Martin smirked. “I could only imagine what you niggas got up to up there. Especially to come back as fly as that.” He said, nodding over to the cars in front of the boys old home as he blew away the smoke from the blunt.

“Shit, us?” Stack questioned. “Look at you. The jewelry, new whip. Seems money down here moving smooth.”

“Mmm…it’s aight.” Martin shrugged, causing the twins to chuckle with a shake of their heads.

“You know we gotta celebrate.”Martin said, standing from the car a bit as he handed the blunt to his shorty in the car. “Whole block been a bit dry without y’all. Let me throw something together for tonight.” He suggested. “Plus, I gotta clean some paper anyway.” He shrugged, trying to ease the blow of an unexpected gathering upon the men.

Smoke and Stack exchanged a glance before both men looked back at their old friend and shrugged Martin clapped his hands with a smirk. “Aight.” He nodded. “Tracy, go call yo homegirls and shit, tell ‘em to come through while I get shit situated.” He said to the girl in his drivers seat. Tracy didn’t even say anything, she simply got out the car and made her at into the house, bit before making a bit of a show of pulling down her booty shorts. Stack and Smoke exchanged another look at that, but nothing was said further.

Plans were made fast. A block party. Speakers, coolers, grills were pulled out faster than the men could think. Now they just had to get everything jumpin’.

The men sat around Martin’s car catching up, reminiscing on old scams, and laughing at things they never got caught for. Smoke lit a cigarette while Stack leaned back, tapping his fingers on the dashboard.

That’s when they saw her.

Juicy.

She came walking up the sidewalk with Mary next to her, both of them laughing at something too far to hear. Juicy was still thick, but this time, she wore it like armor. Curves hugged up in a baby pink Juicy Couture set, midriff peeking under the hoodie. Her wedged flip flops clicked against the concrete with purpose. Her acrylics—French tips—glinted when she lifted her lollipop to her lips. Lips lined and glossy, brown skin smooth and glowing, gold hoops in her ears catching sun. Her sunglasses were perched on her head, the blonde highlighted tresses in a bun, looking like it just came out of a fresh roller set. It was only when she got closer that they could see that she still had the tiniest gap when she smiled, but now it looked like part of the charm.

Mary had her own vibe—low-rise jeans, rhinestone tank and a high pony—but no one was looking at her. Not the twins at least.

It was Juicy who had the street paused.

Smoke sat up a little straighter. Stack cocked his head. “Lil’ Juicy?” He mumbled.

And just like that, the heat of Mississippi summer wasn’t the loudest thing on the block anymore.

The heat clung to the air, and the bass from someone’s backyard radio pulsed low in the distance. Juicy walked like she owned the sidewalk, hips swaying in perfect rhythm with the click of her heels. She was curvy in all the right places—thicker than the girls on TV, but built with softness and strength that couldn’t be ignored.

Smoke and Stack hadn’t said a word yet. They’d gone still the second they saw her. Not obviously—nothing as sloppy as ogling—but they noticed everything. The gloss, the tips, the squinting, whenever from the sun or her needing her prescription. They both could remember how they used to slide down her nose every few seconds.

She no longer looked like the quiet girl who used to sit on the porch with a notebook. She looked like a woman now. A whole one.

Martin lifted a hand. “Juice! Come say what’s up.” He called out, waving the girl over.

Juicy raised a brow as she stopped at the curb, Mary lingering just behind her. “You actin’ like I don’t live here.”he caused, causing Martin to smack his lips. “You know what I mean.”

Juicy clocked the twins as soon as she approached. But her eyes didn’t widen, she didn’t blink. She just popped that lollipop out her mouth slow, head tilted, and said—

“Well, well. Look who finally came home.” All soft like.

Smoke stepped forward, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly. “Ain’t seen you in years, Juicy.” He said, voice a little lower than usual.

Stack nodded. “You done grown all up now.” He said, his eyes subconsciously giving the girl before him a quick once over, one that had him wanting to trace his eyes over her body again.

Juicy didn’t blush—she never did. She just looked between them, slow and deliberate, then popped the lollipop from her mouth and smiled, tiny gap and all. “Y’all look the same.” She said, though they really didn’t. “Maybe taller. Maybe.” She shrugged, not hiding the way she analyzed the men from head to toe, taking in their otherwise plain street wear, which she knew had to still be a decent penny for.

Martin chuckled. “They back for good. Figured I’d throw a little somethin’ tonight. Let the block know.”

Juicy nodded, barely glancing back at the twins. “That’s cute. I’ll see what’s up.” Then to Mary, “Come on.”

She turned without another word, strutting toward the house, and the two men made it their mission to not look at the rhinestones bedazzled on her booty, reading ‘Juicy’ across the span of the area. Mary, however, lingered just a second longer. Her eyes locked on Stack like she was sizing him up for dessert. No shame at all. She flashed a grin that was all teeth and trouble before jogging up the steps behind Juicy.

When they were gone, Martin lit his blunt, shaking his head. “Y’all look like you saw a ghost.” He said as he blew the smoke out. “Was it Mary? Yeah, I know, still freaks me out a bit to see her down here.” He added, not even waiting for an explanation from them.

Smoke leaned against the hood, eyes still on the porch. “Nah.” He muttered, voice tight. “Yeah, you right. Just didn’t expect that.” He said, though he was simply agreeing to save face.

A few minutes later, it seemed as though this party was about to take off as people began to show up, their drinks of chose and blunts in their clutches. This made Martin head inside to grab more beers while the twins stayed posted at the car, quiet now that the noise of the street settled down.

It was silent between them for a bit before Stack spoke up, not even looking at his brother. “Juicy is far from the girl we left them heard back.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck, internally questioning himself over the quick flashes of ‘not so pure’ thoughts he had about the girl he grew up with.

“Yeah.” Smoke replied. “She is.”

They didn’t say anything else for a moment, both thinking the same thing—how time had a funny way of flipping the script. How the girl who used to scribble doodles on everything and watch them from the corner of the porch now walked like she didn’t owe anybody her attention.

Smoke remembered the way she used to listen when he talked—really listen—without judgment or noise. How he used to feel stupid for sharing some of his serpent moments with someone so young. How at first he just needed her for an ear, and she levered that, and when he needed some answers, she was quick to help as well. And she had those same eyes. Soft but knowing. That hadn’t changed.

Stack was still thinking about her walk. The way she didn’t give them a second glance, like she’d seen men like them a thousand times. It didn’t bruise his ego—it just made him curious.

“And I peep she’s got a smart mouth on her now.” He finally said, half a smile on his lips.

Smoke nodded, but his gaze didn’t leave the front door. “Yeah.” He muttered, and that’s all he seemed to be able to say, as if she had rendered him speechless.

Stack’s smirked widen, longing his lips as a thought crossed his mind.

“Wonder who she’s lettin’ have it.”

[prythiansprincess]

agora hills.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: agora hills by doja cat.

author's note: as always, this unhinged fic idea started in chlo and i's endless chats about these pesky men. enzo has a special place in my heart because he's so golden retriever sunshine (don't be fooled by that face though he's filthy).

Enzo Berkshire was your best friend. 

Despite what your friends seemed to think, the relationship between you two had always been strictly platonic. Perhaps it was easy to misinterpret your actions as romantic. After all, you and Enzo were very touchy and affectionate people. It was typical of you two to hold hands in the halls, cuddle in the common room, and even share the occasional cheek or forehead kiss, which you deemed completely normal. This type of behavior has been the standard since you were eleven years old. 

Still, you weren’t blind. You knew your best friend was attractive. Enzo had always been handsome in your eyes, but then fourth year rolled around and everyone else started to notice it too. To be fair, he had grown at least a foot over the summer and quidditch definitely helped him pack on lean muscle. Needless to say, girls flocked to him like a swarm of bees to honey, but he never really seemed interested in any of them. Not that you were paying attention. It was a natural thing to notice when you spent every waking moment with someone. 

The point of the matter was that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for Enzo whatsoever. Or so you thought. Until the bloody dream that flipped your friendship on its head. 

It was a normal day. You and Enzo were studying in your dorm like you usually did after class. Enzo was sprawled out on the rug scribbling away for his assignment on Ancient Runes. You were on your bed reading up on History of Magic. You knew you should be focusing since there would be a test tomorrow, but the chapter was boring and you were absolutely knackered from attending classes all day. 

Before you knew it, you were fully knocked out. A part of you was aware that you were dreaming, but the surreality of it blurred the lines of reality. 

In your dreams, you were still in your room studying with Enzo. Except your best friend was no longer hunched over his homework on your rug. Now Enzo was standing at the edge of your bed, blocking out the afternoon sun. You stared up in confusion as he took the book from your hands. 

“Enz? What are you doing?” 

Enzo stared intently at you, his soft hazel eyes flickering down to your lips. It was a little like being hit with a beam of sunshine. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“I want to try something.”

You held your breath as Enzo leaned over. The bed dipped from his weight as you sat frozen in place. He rubbed soothing circles along your wrist, causing you to melt into his touch. It was a familiar sensation, one that always calmed you down but right at that moment, you felt anything but. The beat of your heart echoed so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. 

Enzo leaned in close, his face mere inches away from yours. He stroked your cheek gently. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured, the low whisper of his voice conjuring goosebumps along your arms. “Can I?”

You blinked, swallowing thickly. He was so close that you could smell the woodsy smell of his cologne, combined with a hint of fresh laundry and citrus. 

“Yes,” you responded breathily. 

Before you could think better of it, Enzo was kissing you. It was soft and sweet, his kisses gentle while he tested the waters. The quick little pecks soon evolved into deeper kisses as your body responded to his touch. Your hands moved outside of your own volition, fingers tangling in Enzo’s hair as you pulled him closer. He groaned and tilted your head back for a better angle, your bodies pressed close together and radiating heat underneath your clothes. 

Enzo scooted back on the headboard and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss. You gasped when his hands roamed underneath your skirt, gripping your thighs so that you were fully settled over his length. What started as a sweet innocent kiss escalated into a full on heated makeout session. Kissing till your lips were swollen. Moaning into each other’s mouths. Grasping at every inch of skin the two of you could reach. 

When you felt him grind his hardness against your backside, you gasped. Enzo took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, swirling and sucking until you were panting above him. 

“Y/N,” he grunted huskily. “I need you.”

The desperation in Enzo’s voice made you shudder. You didn’t even think twice before unbuckling his belt and tugging his boxers down. Enzo groaned as he stroked himself, pulling your panties to the side. You whimpered as he teased his tip at your entrance. 

“I want you so fucking bad.”

“I want you too, Enzo.”

Friendship be damned, Enzo gripped your hips and watched as you sank into him. His eyes rolled back when he felt your warmth and wetness hug around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Gods, you feel so fucking good. Better than I imagined.”

You clenched at his words and he inhaled sharply before rolling your hips to set the pace. Once you established a steady rhythm, Enzo pinned you with his lust blown gaze and watched as you rode him. He lavished you with sloppy kisses, stopping every now and then to moan into your mouth while you continued rolling your hips against him. 

“That’s it, princess. Feels good, yeah? Keep rolling your hips just like that,” Enzo said, thrusting upwards to fuck into you. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Just as Enzo hit that perfect spot, your eyes flew open. 

You were startled to find yourself back in your dorm, warm, sweaty, and alone in bed. You nearly fell off altogether when you found Enzo still sitting on the rug below you. While you were dreaming about doing filthy things with him, Enzo was completely oblivious and focused on studying. Like you should’ve been. 

Enzo perked up, concern written all over his face when he saw how flushed you were. He immediately rushed over to your side. Your cheeks were so red that he thinks you might be running a fever. Enzo pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

“You’re burning up, Y/N.” Enzo sounded genuinely worried. If only he knew the reason why you currently shared the same temperature as the common room fireplace. “Maybe I should walk you over to the infirmary?” 

“No!” Your voice echoed shrilly in your dorm, causing you to wince. “I’m fine. I just…I just need fresh air.”

“Oh good, I’ll come walk with you.”

“No,” you said rather harshly. Enzo frowned. “I, uh, I think I should go alone.”

Now Enzo was truly perturbed. He pouted at your refusal. Why didn’t you want him to come? You always walked around the Black Lake together. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” 

He squinted at you, hoping to catch your gaze. You completely avoided looking him in the eyes before scrambling out of bed. 

“I’m fine, really. I’ll see you later, Enz.”

You were out the door before Enzo even had a chance to respond. 

You were acting like a bloody idiot. 

After that unfortunate afternoon, you spent the next few days avoiding Enzo. The dream had completely flustered you. It was impossible to be in the same room as your best friend. You couldn’t even look Enzo in the eyes without thinking of him being inside of you.  

More than that, it was making you rethink your entire friendship. You adored Enzo. He had been a constant in your life since first year. The two of you were inseparable and he was pretty much the most important person in your life. You had never once thought about him in a sexual manner, but obviously you were attracted to him given the filthy thoughts that flooded your mind like a plague. 

You were praying to Merlin that this stupid little lapse of yours would pass and take all the hormone addled aftereffects with it. Perhaps it was just lack of physical affection that was causing you to think this way. After all, you had broken up with your last boyfriend months ago. There was the casual hookup every now and then, but those never really satisfied you in the way that you wanted. It certainly wasn’t anything like how Enzo had been in your dream. 

As you cataloged and compared your most recent stints, the intrusive thought slipped in without warning. There were no secrets between you and Enzo, so you knew that it had been awhile since he hooked up with anyone else too. Come to think of it, except for a couple flings here and there, Enzo has never really had a serious relationship. 

You never really thought much about it. It wasn’t like you were running headfirst into commitment either, but now you couldn’t help but wonder why Enzo had never had a girlfriend. Were relationships just not his cup of tea? If so, why the bloody hell not?

By the time you had unraveled that string, Pansy was snapping her fingers in front of your face. You shook your head and rejoined the present. Before your little spiral, you and Pansy had been discussing the homework for Charms. 

Your friend narrowed her eyes on you. “Alright, spill,” Pansy said. “There’s clearly something on your mind.”

You peered around the common room. For the most part, it was empty. Only a few of the other Slytherins lingered in your midst, but one could never be too careful in the viper’s nest. 

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you leaned closer to Pansy and spoke in a low voice. “Have you ever had a dream about one of the guys?”

Pansy leaned back on the velvet emerald couch with an expression of intrigue. “What kind of dream?”

“You know,” you urged, picking at the cushion in your lap. “The sexual kind.”

She shook her head, her glossy bob shimmering in the faint light. “No, I can’t say that I have.” 

“I have!” Theo said cheerfully as he plopped down between you. His presence startled you, but he looked utterly unperturbed as he butted into the conversation. “About both of you, actually.”

You wrinkled your nose and smacked him on the arm. “Gross, Theo.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Pansy said with a look of disgust.

Theo was deeply offended by it all. “What? I’ll have you know that I was very loving and gentle,” you groaned and made a gagging sound. “I also had one about Reg and that one wasn’t as gentle, if you know what I mean.”

He grinned cheekily, which only made you lament further. Pansy shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Regulus? He’s the human equivalent of a grumpy black cat. All the first years are terrified of him.”

Theo shrugged. “What can I say? I’m into that. All that surliness and those curls, y’know…”

It was Pansy’s turn to smack him. “For Salazar’s fucking sake, shut it, Theodore. I want to know who Y/N had a dream about.”

“Was it Riddle?” Theo prompted.

“Which one?”

“Mattheo, obviously. Tom looks like he hasn’t had a woman’s touch in years.”

“That’s mean!” you cut in. “I’m telling Tom you said that.”

“Please don’t. I value my life, thank you very much.”

Pansy scoffed. “It’s not either one of the Riddles then.”

“Was it me?” asked Theo. 

“Gods, no.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “It can’t be Blaise because him and Pans are shagging on the daily.” Theo’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me it’s Malfoy.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“But he’s close, right?” Pansy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. You nodded weakly. She gasped. “Oh my god, Berkshire? Really?”

You buried your face in your hands. You were truly going to die of embarrassment. Pansy continued with her assessment. “Well, you two are practically attached at the hip, so it makes sense. Still, I truly didn’t expect it to be Enzo. He’s so sweet, I just can’t see him that way.”

The shit-eating grin on Theo’s face made you cringe. “Was it good? It had to be, right? Is that why you’ve been avoiding him all week?” 

“What? I haven’t been avoiding him.”

“Sure you have,” declared Theo. “Berkshire’s all broken up about it. Thinks he’s done something to upset you. The whole time you’ve been nursing filthy little fantasies about sweet baby boy Enzo. Oh, I can’t wait to tell the guys about this.”

Panic seized you and Theo yelped as you held his arm in a death grip. “You can’t say a fucking word, Theo. Do you hear me? It’s already humiliating enough to have a sex dream about my best friend. I will literally murder you if you tell any of the boys.”

Theo sighed. “Fine, I won’t tell. Now let go of me, woman.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Pansy. “You can’t keep avoiding Enzo forever.”

You sighed. You were completely and utterly at a loss. Pansy was right. Enzo was already starting to suspect something and you felt bad that he thought he’d done something to upset you when you were the one in the wrong. How could you possibly act normal after all of this?

“Maybe you should ask him if he’s ever thought about you that way,” Theo suggested. “That way the ball’s in his court.” 

You scoffed. “I’m supposed to just come up to him and casually ask, Hey Enz, have you ever had a sex dream about me that was so filthy that you couldn’t make eye contact for days after?” 

“I guarantee you the answer will be yes.”

As you chided Theo for being his usual ridiculous self, Pansy discretely nudged you. Enzo rounded the corner and waved at the three of you. Theo and Pansy shared a look before leaving you to your own devices. Bloody traitors. 

Enzo was unbothered by their sudden departure. “Hi, love. I haven’t seen you all week. You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?” 

His tone was light and playful, but it still made you nervous as all hell. “No, not at all,” you internally cringed at the forced cheeriness in your voice. “I’ve just been…busy. Yeah, that’s it. No other reason.”

For Salazar’s fucking sake. You were horrible at this. Lying to Enzo wasn’t something you were used to. 

Enzo nodded. “Okay, well we’re still on for movie night, right?” 

“Oh, yeah, about that—“

“It shouldn't be a problem,” he added thoughtfully, shooting you a cheeky grin. “Unless you’re actually avoiding me.”

Fuck. Your mind was screaming at you to say no. To make up some lame excuse. To do something other than gape at Enzo. 

Unfortunately, your brain decided to stop working as soon as those dimples of his made an appearance. Merlin’s bloody beard, you truly needed to get a grip. 

You forced yourself to smile back so he wouldn’t think anything was amiss. “”I was just going to ask what snacks you wanted.”

“Just you,” Enzo said, his grin growing wider. Did his voice suddenly sound deeper than it had a few seconds ago? No, it was likely just your delusion. “That’s all I need.”

Later that night, Enzo arrived with the projector and a handful of movie choices. You spent the entire afternoon pacing and working yourself into a fit. He was entirely unaware of the cloud of anxiety hanging over you as he loaded up your favorite movie. 

Your dorm had never felt as cramped as it did at this moment. Enzo plopped down on your bed. The scene of the crime. You climbed in on the other end and resigned yourself to sitting perfectly upright and rigid while he made himself comfortable. Enzo looked at you strangely. Usually, the two of you would be cuddling. 

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Enzo asked, spreading his arms out. “Come cuddle.”

You sighed internally. This felt like tempting fate, but what could you do? If you refused, Enzo would definitely know that something was up. As slow as a snail, you scooted closer to his side. He took one look at you and shook his head before hauling you over to him. Besides being manhandled, the position was quite familiar. You tucked against his side, head resting on his shoulder while he nuzzled his cheek against your hair. 

Enzo pressed play and you started to relax while the movie unfolded. The peace didn’t last for long. As the opening scene played, Enzo absentmindedly tugged at the hem of your shirt. Again, his affectionate nature wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Yet you couldn’t help but hold your breath as he rubbed soothing circles against your hip. While the gesture usually comforted you, it had the opposite effect now. 

“You’re so tense, love,” Enzo murmured. His voice sounded so deep and delicious.

“It’s been a stressful week.”

“I bet.” 

You shuddered as he trailed his fingers over your spine, drawing patterns along your skin. Temptation wasn’t knocking at your door. It was kicking it down altogether. Enzo shifted, brushing his knuckles just below the hook of your bra. 

“This can’t be comfortable,” he said, hooking a finger around the band. “Maybe you’ll feel more relaxed with it off. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” 

There was no time to analyze what the fuck was going on. All of your efforts were spent solely on fighting the urge to moan. Enzo toyed with the band, waiting for your answer. 

“Yeah,” you said breathily. “I think—I think you’re right.”

“Course I am. Let me take it off for you then, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

Enzo unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers. Almost like he had long mastered the art and this was merely just child’s play. He helped you shrug out of your bra and carelessly tossed it to the side. You sighed softly as Enzo switched to long, purposeful strokes. He started at your hips, then your stomach, gradually moving up until he was barely an inch away from the underside of your breasts. Your eyes fluttered close, completely lost to his touch. They opened again when Enzo nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Hi,” he said with a smile. 

“Hi,” you whispered. “What are we doing, Enzo?” 

“Nothing that I haven’t thought about a million times over.”

“You’ve thought about me like this?” 

“I’m always thinking about you,” Enzo admitted. “Sometimes it’s just cuddling or holding hands. Just sweet stuff cause I love touching you like this, but other times…other times I dream about you like you dreamt about me.”

Your breath hitched. “You know about my dream?” 

“I heard you in the common room earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t know what came over me. That’s why I haven’t talked to you much this week. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Enzo took your hand and slid it down the front of his gray sweatpants. You gasped when you felt how hard he was against your palm. “Do I feel uncomfortable to you, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t trust yourself with words at the moment. Enzo nuzzled against you, littering soft little kisses in his wake. He pecked and nipped at your neck, your collarbone, your jaw. 

“You drive me fucking mad, you know that? I want you so badly I’d literally get on my knees and beg if you asked.”

The tension was too much for you to bear. You pulled him in by the front of his shirt and pressed your lips against his. Enzo groaned into your mouth. The hand underneath your shirt crawled up until he was cupping your tits, rubbing his thumb over your nipples. Enzo tried to keep the kisses soft. He intended to savor it, but every ounce of self control went out the window the second he heard you moan. 

Enzo flipped you over so that you were straddling his lap. He looked down and realized that you were wearing one of his old shirts and the sight of it made him even harder. The tiny shorts you were wearing was a pesky little barrier, but it didn’t stop him from grinding his hardness against your ass. He tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

“Take this off, right now. I need to feel you, pretty girl.”

He watched as you peeled off the shirt. Enzo did the same, tossing both articles of clothing over the side of your bed. He groaned at the skin to skin contact. Enzo smiled as he drank it all in. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re not bad to look at either, Enz.”

Enzo chuckled. “Cheeky girl. Come on, then. Shorts off too.”

You took off your shorts as Enzo slipped out of his sweatpants and boxers. He kissed you again, sloppy, filthy, and downright obscene. There was plenty of panting and groping as the two of you explored each other’s bodies. Enzo practically purred into your ear as you rubbed over his shaft. He felt like velvet in your hands. When you flicked your thumb to spread the bead of precum over his tip, Enzo released an animalistic growl. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered. “Gods, I need to be inside of you right fucking now or I’ll die.”

There was no time to slide off your panties. Enzo merely yanked it to the side and guided you over him. He kept his eyes on you as you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch. Enzo groaned, digging his fingers into your hips while you adjusted to his size.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet and so fucking tight.” 

You had no idea that such filthy words could sound like music in your ears. Enzo may have been sweet as sugar, but you knew that he wasn’t innocent. He was far too cheeky to be anything but downright dirty in bed. 

Enzo was also extremely responsive. He made sure to praise and worship like your body was an altar and he was the most pious believer. 

“Enz, gods,” you moaned as he flicked his tongue over your nipple. “You’re really good at that.” 

“Yeah?” He asked cheekily. “You think so?” 

You chuckled. It was such an Enzo comment. If you weren’t actively losing your mind, you might’ve rolled your eyes at him. Whatever fantasy your mind has conjured paled in comparison to reality. Sex with Enzo was easy. You knew him and you trusted him. It was like breathing air. 

Every moan and whimper only helped you grow more and more attuned with each other’s bodies. The sounds you made were a special language of its own, one that only you and Enzo understood.

“That’s it, princess. You’re taking me so well.” 

“Like that?” you asked, rolling your hips. 

Enzo groaned in response, which made you smirk in satisfaction. He chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Ride me harder, sweetheart. Fuck…yeah just like that.” 

He moaned into your mouth, meeting the roll of your hips with thrusts of his own. Enzo pressed his forehead against your, his long lashes kissing the tops of your cheekbones while he pressed you closer. The deep angle in which he drove into you had you clawing at his back. 

“Oh gods, oh fuck. I can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl. You’re gonna cum for me like a good girl, yeah?”

“I’m so close.” Enzo flipped you onto your back and fucked you into the mattress. The tension uncoiled in your core until you were panting, chasing after that sweet release. “Oh—oh gods, Enzo.”

The orgasm knocked the very breath from your lungs. It was a total out of body experience. Your back arched, your toes curled, and you screamed his name, but none of it registered past the pleasure of coming. As soon as Enzo felt you creaming him from base to tip, he came too. 

It was strangely beautiful to watch. Enzo was mesmerizing. With his sweat slicked skin and swollen lips, strands of his dark hair clinging onto his flushed cheeks. You’ve never seen such a pretty sight. 

The two of you stayed curled up into each other. Enzo slowly pulled out and placed a tender kiss on your temple. This time, there wasn’t a single hint of hesitation as you cuddled up against his side. He was warm and comfortable, lulling you into sleep as he tangled his long legs with yours. 

You didn’t know how long you drifted off. It only felt like a few seconds later when you found yourself on your stomach, blinking sleepily up at Enzo. He smiled, kissing along your spine as he pried your legs apart. You groaned into the pillow as he thrusted lazily from behind. 

It was dark as night outside when you were finally done. You couldn’t even remember how many times he made you cum. All you knew was that you were in complete bliss as you and Enzo sprawled out on your sheets. 

You looked up at Enzo. He looked down at you. The two of you burst into a nervous fit of giggles.

“Shit. Did we just—“

He nodded, curling a strand of your hair through his fingers. “Yeah, we definitely did. Two. Three. Four times? I honestly lost count.” 

You chuckled softly. There was a moment of silence as you collected yourself. Enzo lowered himself down so that you were facing each other. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty girl.” 

Despite your steamy activities, you had never felt more shy than when he brushed his lips across your knuckles. 

“I care about you, Enzo and I know you care about me too. Tonight was….fuck. Tonight was great. I just want to make sure this doesn’t change our friendship.”

“Of course it’s going to change things,” Enzo said matter-of-factly. “You think I can stay just friends with you after that?” 

You swallowed thickly. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. I know you don’t really date. I mean, half the school’s asked you out and you’ve turned them all down, so I’m not expecting to be the exception. It’s alright if you just want this to be casual.”

“I don’t. I’ve said no to everyone because I’ve been waiting for you. You are the exception, Y/N. It’s always been you.” 

“Really?” you whispered, biting back a smile. “You mean that?” 

Enzo nodded and kissed your fingertips. “Sweetheart, you’ve had me in the palm of your hands since we were eleven. Of course I mean it.” 

You didn’t try to hide your smile. You were absolutely beaming. “So you don’t want things to be casual?”

“There’s nothing casual about what I feel for you.” 

“Okay,” you said, processing his revelation. “I don’t want things to be casual either. It might be selfish, but I think I want you all to myself, Enzo.” 

He released a sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking Merlin. I want you all to myself too, Y/N.”

[mejaemin]

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you’re cute! - lee seokmin

wc: 1.3k summary: seokmin’s a little too obvious about his thing for you, but it’s okay! it’s cute! warnings: music major!seok n reader, they’re both a little immature but in a cute way?, loser!seokmin, seungkwan feature an: i’m so sorry this is late.. i wanted it to be perfect because it’s seokmin’s bday fic !!! he’s so special to me and i couldn’t let it suck yk?? (i still think it does..) n e way tysm to cutie @cxffecoupx for giving me this idea !!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ✦　

lee seokmin’s really cute.

you see him sitting in the row beside you, and you hide in your books so he can’t see that you’re watching him. he’s talking to his friends, and you can hear his melodic voice ramble about god knows what. when he starts laughing, everyone else starts side eyeing him while you can’t help but bite your lip to avoid smiling with him.

all of a sudden, his friends turn serious. they’re all staring at seokmin with this accusatory look, and you turn your listening ears on when seungkwan leans in,

“so, are you gonna stop being a loser and do something about..” he uses your first initial to refer to whoever they’re talking about, and your heart nearly beats out of your chest. maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop…? you put your notebook down and start scribbling in it.

you hear said loser sigh heavily, and from your peripheral you can see his head fall into his arms. it’s muffled, but you think you hear him say, “i can’t… she’s too pretty! i’m scared!”

seungkwan sighs. “a girl writing notes in a hello kitty notebook with a glitter gel pen is scary? seok, she even has the same texting habits as you. what’s scary about that?”

he pops his head up. “it’s scary cute, okay?! and- wait, you text her?! this is so unfair..” he whines, resting his cheek in his palm to watch you with a pout.

taking a quick glance around the classroom, you’re able to confirm that you’re definitely the only one in here with a hello kitty notebook and collection of glitter gel pens. you think it’s safe enough to assume that he’s definitely talking about you, and it makes you feel like kicking your feet and twirling your hair.

you said it once, and you’ll say it again, but this whole ordeal is really the cutest thing. even before you knew about this little crush, he’s always had your attention. his smile is contagious, and it’s never really been directed at you, but just seeing him happy makes you happy. he truly has a skill at making people smile. not only that, but his laugh? goodness, he really knows how to make a girl swoon even with his lack of skills in said department. he’s got blonde hair, and it’s quite new, but it really opens up his features and he looks even brighter than you thought was possible. and now, over the past couple of weeks, you haven’t been able to stop overhearing his overshares in public to his friends.

his voice is so loud, however it’s not in a suffocating way. his laugh is contagious, his singing is amazing, and, god, when you got paired up that one time during your piano class, it was quite private, and he was attempting to sightread. it sounded like.. music, you guess, but it’s just the way his pretty fingers stumble over the keys, his laugh ringing through the studio at his own mess-ups (if only you knew that he actually wasn’t so bad, it was just knowing that you’re one of two other people in the studio right now). you weren’t much better, and you tried to offer that as words of comfort, which ended up in his red face as he stumbled over his words.

since then, you’ve overheard him during all your music classes. he’s not the best at keeping his volume down, and you know that very well. you’ve overheard plenty of things from his mouth, things that were a little too strange for your liking, but there’s good parts to it. like.. hearing him ramble on and on about this girl who’s too pretty for his own good! she’s so gorgeous he could die, she looks so pretty when she’s focused, and ugh she’s just so cute when she struggles with music theory! if only you’d actually talk to her, his friends would tease, and that’s the only time he’ll keep his mouth shut. it’s always the same excuse, that you’re too pretty and he’s scared, your looks too intimidating. lost in thought, you pout, thinking you really can’t be that scary…

all of a sudden you’re ripped from your thoughts, your seatmates and everyone else beginning to pack up. although a little frazzled, you follow suit, stuffing your things away in your little tote bag. you sneak another peek at seokmin and his friends, and seungkwan pats his shoulder.

“listen. there’s no way she doesn’t know at this point. if you don’t do something in a week, i’ll do it for you.” he says, leaving him behind in the classroom.

you slow yourself down, matching his pace as he begrudgingly packs his belongings away in his little shoulder bag. he’s got a pout of his own, probably tired of getting playfully (?) bullied by his friends. finally, he’s done, and he walks out of the classroom with his fluffy hair, striped shirt and thick-rimmed glasses. before he goes too far, you chase after him. it can’t hurt to say something.. right?

shuffling on tip toes to catch up to him, you finally do, and tap on his shoulder. he turns his head, a smile on his face, and he can’t help the shocked expression that pops up on his face once he sees it’s you.

“oh- um, hi! do you- uh, did you need.. something?” he asks, his face a little too expressive when he grimaces at himself.

you nod, bouncing on your toes with a smile. “seokmin, right?” that was a dumb question… you already know his name! regardless, he nods. you give your own, even though you know he knows it too, “you know, seokmin… you don’t really have an inside voice, do you?” it comes out a little sassier than you meant it to, but how are you supposed to start a conversation?! you’re not built for this either…

“i’m so sorry! if it’s a bother, i’ll be more quiet, if it uh- it- yeah..” he gives up at the end of his silence, sighing heavily, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

you smile, looking up at him with innocent, yet teasing eyes. on the inside you’re just as nervous as him, but something about knowing he’s the exact same puts you at ease a little. “i can hear what you’re talking about, y’know… about me.”

his jaw drops. you watch him, waiting for a response, but he just stands there. you actually stand there for a few seconds watching it, and he’s literally frozen for that entire duration.

after gaping like a fish for a few moments words finally come out, “i’m sorry if you’re uncomfy because of it.. i can be quiet, if that’ll be any better?” he looks super sad right now, and you’d feel evil to let him think the worst any longer.

“no, silly!” you giggle, putting a hand on his shoulder, his face only gets redder, and he’s stuttering in protest. “i don’t mind it. you’re super cute too, you know!”

“oh- oh? seriously?” he asks, and you nod.

“i like you too, y’know!” your giggles become even more frequent, and a little louder at him. it’s so charming the way he stumbles over his words and blushes so intensely, in his own cute little loser way.

he’s still in shock, mouth hanging open, and it’s a little bold but you use a finger to push it closed. with a sigh, made of giggles and amusement, you take out one of your sanrio sticky notes. seokmin’s got a pen sticking out from his bag, and you pull it out to write your phone number on it. pulling it off the stack, you stick it to his chest, making your way to walk past him, not without a smile. you’re sure that once you’re further away you hear a little yesss! and it makes you smile even bigger, knowing that something could come of you and the cute loser in all your music classes.

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perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[thelov3lybookworm]

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

•○●⛦●○•

Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[angeliteeyes]

I have an idea for astral express reader x kafka

Like, most of the fics ive seen with that dinamic the thing is that the relationship is a secret but i think it would be funny af if it was otherwise and everyone on the express knew and they werent mad but just tired.

Like, imagine that scene from the start of the luofo mission, everything is kinda tense but everyone sighs in exasperation.

Thanks in advance if you end up taking this request :D

Anon this idea is HILARIOUS lmao, thanks for sending this. I'm imagining the Welt/Himeko disappointed stare they'd give you as you all find Kafka and they realize the chaos that's about to ensue. They try to get back to business and interrogate Kafka, and you're just. Behind them blowing air kisses at her. She isn't even looking at them anymore, too busy winking back at you. It's a whole mess

Kafka x Astral Express Reader

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Within the Xianzhou Luofu, countless sounds could be heard echoing against the multi-colored walls. Children playing, merchants desperately trying to pawn off their goods to passersby, and your loud voice, easily piercing through it all.

"I'm telling you, they've got the wrong idea! There's no way Kafka would do something like that while I'm involved." You huffed as you trailed behind Welt and Himeko, stomping with each step in frustration. Welt turned to look at you with tired, droopy eyes.

"You may be right. Regardless, we have to understand that the Xianzhou Alliance can't trust the Stellaron Hunters as easily as you do."

March popped up by your side, the remains of a cake roll on her cheek. "Well yeah, even I don't understand what they're thinking!" You opted not to point out her messiness or the fact that you were the one dating Kafka, not her.

You knew fully well when you and Kafka got together about her... unique definition of fun and her penchant for mysterious troublestirring. In fact, that's what drew you to her in the first place. You never really bought the notion that you Astral Express crew were all that different from the Stellaron Hunters. Apparently, neither did she.

So to think you'd end up strolling around a world filled with so many naysayers! Honestly, if they just gave her a chance, perhaps they could see her the way you do. Then again, being the only one this close to her made your heart pound with pride.

"Ughhh, I miss Kafka! All this talking about her's just reminding me that she isn't here." You whined.

"I'm not?"

You gasped. Could it really be...

"Kafka!" You rushed over at the sight of her, colliding harder than you intended. The two of you entangled with each other into a tight, warm hug. Her hands snaked around each side of your waist, and you heard her heavenly voice hum a pleased tone at the affection. Before you heard a forced cough from behind you. Right, guess the others wouldn't be as excited as you are. Lame.

Your lover chuckled at the scene in front of her. "Sorry, dear, but it looks like we have a game of cat and mouse to play." With that, she leaned in and pressed her lips onto your cheek. Her voice softened until it was so quiet, it hardly even registered. "Although... I'd prefer being the one to hunt you. Maybe later we can switch roles?"

You'd begun to giggle and blush at her remark before quickly realizing what she meant; within a blink of an eye, she had already left your side. Double lame.

And so, you and the rest of the crew were forced to maneuver around the various traps and puzzles riddled nearby. Most were native to the area, yet you also picked up a handful of magenta-colored scribbles pasted onto the cities' walls along the way.

"Is that supposed to be me?!"

Curious, you looked over to where March angrily pointed. Looking closer...

"Pfft." You could barely hold in your giggles at the, well, artistic rendition of March left on display. It was shockingly similar to the wanted poster rendition of her, now that you think about it. Probably why she's been staring it down so viciously.

The rest of the drawings you came across were of similar artistic integrity. At least the one of you had a big heart over it and a lipstick stain. How sweet of her.

By the time you all spotted her figure in the distance and caught up, the only ones left with any energy were you and Kafka. Not that you even appeared to notice much, with how occupied you were blatantly flirting with each other from afar.

Himeko and Welt, being the most responsible of the crew, moved closer to her with serious expressions. Although, even from a distance, you could spot their shoulders hunching inward, as if collapsing from exhaustion. Himeko sighed.

"Let's just get to the chase, alright?" She shifted her body weight to one side. "And enough of the winking. At least pretend to pay attention to me while I'm talking for once."

For a moment, Kafka appeared to give her words some thought, moving her hand closer to her lips. "Sorry, but no can do. After all, we don't have much time. Why not spend it looking at the beautiful scenery?" Her gaze transitioned back to you, flirtatious look and all. Everyone else groaned.

Suddenly, the air felt off. Different, and almost... foreboding? You locked eyes with Kafka, silently questioning her. As she gazed back at you, she let out a sigh.

"Give me a second, darling. Looks like we have company."

Before you could respond or even process her words, a flurry of gunshots filled the once-vacant space above you all. Your ears rang in pain, but only for a moment. For a short while after that, a strange sense of stillness passed through you, a calm that by no means should've belonged there and then.

"Rudimentary. Your every move has been foreseen by the omniscia."

In front of you, a short yet elegant woman appeared to float downwards slowly, all the way until her shoes gently pressed into the hard floor. How the... how did she manage to do that? Your face tensed inward a little, but her next words snapped you back into paying full attention.

"I'll be taking the criminal from here."

You were about to argue with her and defend Kafka, when—

"And you over there, be quiet. This is not my first time meeting you, so I already know what you intend to say. I cannot abide by your request no matter how much you argue."

Well, shoot. In that case...

"And no, I will not arrest you and let you stay with the other criminal."

Ugh. Every excuse you wanted to use in order to stay by your sweetheart's side was swiftly cut down by Fu Xuan one by one, much to your dismay. You got the feeling that despite having not said anything in the present, she'd already grown tired of your voice. Kafka, apparently noticing your dejection, stepped in to reassure you.

"Aw, don't you worry your cute little head. We may be out of time to talk for now, but rest assured. I'll be right back by your side in no time."

Gosh, you could never get over just so charismatic she was and how easily she made you swoon. Even as she was being escorted away from you, she still had it in her to remain thoughtful of your feelings and concerns. With a reluctant smile, you waved her goodbye and called out to her.

"You better not forget to call me tonight, okay? I know you're busy, but I'll get too lonely without at least hearing you talk." She responded back, at this point far enough that she needed to raise her voice just for you to hear.

"Of course. Not even fate can keep us apart, dear."

[dedeinthewild]

pepe martì x reader, intrusive thoughts

~ from hand scribbles series (tell me an oddly specific situation/state of mind and I'll rec/write a fic about it)

"Oh—uh—sorry. Intrusive thoughts."

situation : do you ever think about how sweet and gentle the other person is when trying to match your height? and how much their neck just seems so kissable?

-Dos polos, por favor.-

The sun had been scorching all day, and although the beach wasn't noisy, there were a few kids playing with a ball, slapping the waves with bright, beautiful smiles. It was a special time in Barcelona, when most of the young people had gone on vacation elsewhere, and many families had decided to go to the mountains, leaving the beach almost empty, except for a few groups who kept the music low and spent the day enjoying each other's company.

She and Pepe had spread out a towel, dropping their things on the sand, quickly removing their shirts and shorts like people who had no other worries and diving into the water, holding their breath against the cooler September ocean.

The driver had come up with the idea to go to the beach when he brought her to Barcelona for one of the last Red Bull events he had to attend. She pretended not to love it, just to see the look on his face when he realized that she had actually enjoyed it—almost like it wasn’t clear under the sun how happy she was to watch him do his thing.

-Gracias,- he looked up from his popsicle wrapper, a half-step behind her, lingering on the warm smile the man behind the counter gave her as she tried speaking in their language—with those cheeks full of lightness Pepe dreamed of and those special eyes, tickled by the rebellious, salt-sprayed hair that fell over her shoulders.

-I may be envying your accent,- he teased with a gentle smile as they walked outside, the only sounds in the air, besides the distant music and the waves, being the crinkle of plastic as they tossed their wrappers into a trash bin, squinting at the sun that was starting to set, reminding them it was time for a snack.

-It’s the worst,- she laughed, standing beside him, the breeze from the ocean tugging her hair back, revealing her soft features.

-I think it’s cute, actually,- Pepe bit into his popsicle, careful not to let the sticky tropical flavor drip down onto his chin. It was his favorite flavor, one he’d loved since he was a child.

Pepe didn’t need to look at her. He had every detail of her memorized in his brown irises, and he knew exactly what was going through her mind at that moment. She had always been one of those people who cared deeply for the people around her, who felt most fulfilled when she could spend a simple, carefree day with them—talking about a childhood she could never get back and a future so close she could almost touch it. She was one of those people who craved moments, yet missed them while they were still happening. And there she was, standing, wrapped in a sarong around her waist—something she’d been insecure about many times, but with him, it was the last thing on her mind. She stood there, breathing softly, the breeze making the light fabric of her sarong dance, while the sunlight tinted her skin just a bit too much, making her think of how much she disliked the sun, but the smell of sunscreen made her feel at home.

He’d learned to appreciate that expression on her face, and it would always be magical to him. It was like the look on your mom’s face when you tell her about something amazing you’ve done, and she’s so proud of you it shows in every line of her face. Or the expression on your older sister’s face when you tell her you helped someone, and her pride radiates from her. It was like hearing a song too many times, but it always had the same effect on him.

-Say something in Spanish,- he told her, taking another bite of his popsicle.

-Why?- she asked, eating her popsicle slowly, trying not to make a mess with it.

-Because I like it,- he smiled, looking down at the little seashells at their feet, washed up by the ocean but left unbroken.

-Eres muy molesto, Pepe,- she laughed, looking up at him from the bottom of their significant height difference, making her already sweet face even cuter.

And she couldn’t say something like that to him, expecting him not to laugh at the obvious misunderstanding of the phrase in Spanish, which could easily be interpreted in a negative way.

-Pero te encanta, ¿a que sí?- he looked at her, with one of those laughs that made you want to laugh along, fixing his gaze on hers as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She had a little popsicle drip on her lips, looking so young.

-Tal vez,- she didn’t look away, biting the inside of her cheek to hide the smirk that was creeping up from her chest as she heard how Pepe’s voice dropped when he said that.

The air smelled like salt, and seafood from the nearby restaurants started to drift through the breeze, preparing for the evening’s service, while a group of boys a little farther down from them had grabbed a guitar and were strumming it, chewing on their popsicle sticks, improvising lyrics to a song they didn’t know by heart. And at that moment, she understood why the Spaniard felt at home there, why he loved coming here when he visited Barcelona. Because this place felt like youth. Like having too many worries, yet none at all. Like knowing what the future would bring, yet having no idea at the same time.

-Dilo otra vez,- he said.

-What, ‘maybe’?- she asked, as they continued walking, playfully nudging each other with their hands and feet, stumbling a little but laughing loudly in the middle of Barcelona.

-No. Anything. Just—keep talking,- he suggested, looking at the horizon, trying to let her know that he didn’t just like hearing her try to speak in his language. He loved hearing the way she finished her sentences with a slight question in her tone, almost as if asking for his approval, and the fact that it was her speaking made it even better.

She started saying something, looking down as she tied her hair with the elastic she’d kept in the crook of her elbow, her skin still warm from the sun, her voice growing more confident. But the ocean had other plans, and with the sound of a wave crashing against the pier, accompanied by the voices of the boys nearby, it stole her voice.

Pepe lowered himself slightly, bringing his face closer to hers so he could hear her better, with such a soft, disarming sweetness that it made her stop in her tracks for a moment, stealing her breath away with the minty scent of his skin. His slightly olive-toned skin highlighted his squared jaw, which wasn’t too prominent, and framed his face in harmony, along with his smooth, black hair that fell gently onto his pilot’s neck. The way he had crossed his arms behind his back, completely focused on her, letting go of the distance between them like there was nothing else but them at that moment.

And in that moment, it happened. Yes, it happened.

Her cold lips pressed just below his jaw, leaving a gentle, almost shy kiss on his skin. Without her thinking about it, dictated by the moment, and desired deeply.

-Did you just—?- Pepe froze, like a computer malfunctioning at the most crucial moment, the almost-finished popsicle stick in his hand, the sensation of cold still on his neck, making him lick his lips as he realized what had just happened.

-Oh—uh—sorry. Intrusive thoughts.-

She laughed, brushing away that tiny hint of shyness caused by the insecurity she’d always had.

Her eyes were happy, her body light, as though she wasn’t even touching the ground, while the breeze played with her sarong and the sunlight made her figure seem almost ethereal. She hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t spent the last hour calculating the pros and cons, letting the fear of missing an opportunity hold her back. She had done it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like walking. Like breathing. Like laughing.

-…Intrusive thoughts?- Pepe was failing to hold back his smile, still with a piece of his cheek between his teeth.

-Yeah! You know, like, sometimes your brain just—just tells you to do something, and you—- she gestured with her hands—and you do it before you can stop yourself? That. That’s what happened.-

-So just to clarify… your brain told you to kiss me and you just listened?- he asked, letting himself smile fully, not touching her as he wanted to, because everything he wanted to say to her was in his eyes, and the way they were looking at each other with such ease.

-Technically, I kissed your jaw,- she smiled, leaving a hint of her dimples on her expression, as she smiled genuinely, without worrying about having the right expression or holding back.

The driver shook his head, the guitar in the background strumming their soundtrack, as it captured both of them and wouldn’t let go so easily.

-I’m onto you,- he teased, while his mind replayed the image of her cool minty lips just under his jaw, so naturally that neither of them had realized what had happened.

-Oh yeah?-

-That’s so you,- he said, looking at her, trying to imprint on his mind the image of her on the shore, the sarong low on her waist, the black swimsuit hugging her in a way her usual clothes never did, and a few strands of hair tickling her forehead.

-So… do you get a lot of intrusive thoughts about kissing me?-

I do, actually. I mean, not with pepe, obviously, but he suited the situation I had in mind so well I could not let it go. I'm desperately longing to be loved, is that reflecting in my fics?

[littledovesnow]

a snow wedding | young!corioulanus x fem!reader

a/n: you'll never guess who officiates their wedding lmao

word count: 1.8k (i could have gone on for like 10k honestly weddings are so fun to writ)

content warnings: ooc!coriolanus, coryo is nicer in my fics than the book/movie (more of the coriolanus at the start of the movie tbh), some hinting at bedroom festivites

You know,” you looked in the mirror at your maid of honor. “I always thought you and Coryo would be the two at the end of the aisle reciting vows.”

Clemensia choked on her mimosa, laughter bubbling over the glass. “The way he’s always looked at you? Absolutely no doubt in my mind you two would end up together.” She replied, setting the flute over and walking over to you.

You peered over at the pristine white gown hanging up, still just as beautiful as when you picked it out two months ago.

Coriolanus had proposed almost a year ago, wanting nothing more than to finally call you Mrs. Snow. “It would make me the happiest man in the Capitol, the country.”

You nodded furiously, watching as he slid the exquisite gold band adorned with a halo of small diamonds around a larger stone. It was a lavish ring, one you assumed he had ruminated over after securing a permanent position in the Citadel alongside Dr. Gaul.

A knock on the door broke up the conversation between the two women, Tigris popping her head into the makeshift bridal suite. “Just checking to see if you need anything before I go down to meet Grandma’am.”

“Tigris, this gown is to die for!” Clemensia praised the tailor, whose cheeks flushed like she had spent weeks in the sun.

“It’s just something I threw together.”

“Oh, don’t be modest, Tigris. It’s one of the most beautiful designs I’ve seen some out of your studio.” You smiled, pulling Tigris into the room more. “But I do have one thing you might have to help me with.”

“What might that be?”

You gestured to the gown, spinning to look at the two most important women in your life. “Can you ladies help me get into this dress? The corset looks like a game Coryo would make up in the Games.”

Clemensia laughed, and Tigris clapped enthusiastically, setting her purse on the pristine couch in the corner.

-----

Coriolanus messed with the cuff links he had purchased for the day exclusively, looking at the small photograph of his mother he kept in his wallet. It was new for him, carrying a wallet around.

He had only a few things in there, his Citadel ID card, a few hundred dollars­—pocket change for him nowadays—and the crumbled notebook paper he had written his vows on one day in the lab while Dr. Gaul met with President Ravenstill and Dean Highbottom.

They were messy, lines crossed out and words in the margins, and Coriolanus was fairly certain his sweaty palm had rubbed a few lines into illegible scribbles. He wouldn’t need them, though, he’s stared at this paper for weeks, the words engrained into his mind for the rest of his days.

He looked up when he heard a knock on his door, his best man stepping into the room.

“You just about ready?” Festus asked, looking around at the mostly bare room. “I think your grandmother is about ready to charge into the bridal suite and wed the two of you.”

If asked who he would think would be his best man at his wedding, Coriolanus Snow would never have said Festus Creed, but after the 10th Hunger Games and his short Peacekeeping stint, the two grew close, something akin to friendship.

“It was Grandma’am’s idea to have an evening ceremony.” Coriolanus muttered mostly to himself, but he tucked his wallet and vows back into his pocket, nodding at the curly-haired man.

“I am ready.”

-----

Delicately rubbing your sweaty palm on your dress, you peered through the small opening between two columns, trying to get a peek at your soon-to-be husband.

“Oh, you’ll see him soon enough!” Lysistrata Vickers smiled at you, bringing you into a hug.

You, Clemensia, and Lysistrata had all grown closer after your mentorship in the Games, going so far as to become friends and spend weekend trips in Districts One and Two on occasion.

“I haven’t seen him all weekend, Lyssie! He wouldn’t even tell me what color his suit is. All I know is that it complements his eyes, and I got that from Tigris!”

Clemensia and Lysistrata shared a knowing look, having seen Coriolanus’ tuxedo as they wished him a good morning in passing.

“He looks exquisite, I hope that makeup is waterproof because I know you’ll be a puddle as soon as you see him!”

Your grin nearly split your face in two, preparing to seal your fate as a Snow.

Clemensia took your hand and gave it a squeeze, stepping up to walk down the aisle with you since neither of your parents were able to.

Lysistrata marched down the split of chairs first, grinning ear-to-ear as she met up with her own husband, Festus downright devouring her with his eyes.

You took a deep breath as you turned around the corner, eyes dancing from one side of the room to the other.

You and Coriolanus wanted to have a smaller audience in person, with a majority of the Capitol and Districts tuning into the wedding live on TV.

Dr. Gaul, who you and Coriolanus had asked to officiate the wedding, had a positively radiant smile on her face, a rarity for the woman. But how could she not, her two star pupils were getting married today.

You finally locked eyes with your fiancé, you Coriolanus, your Coryo. Most would take the look on his face for a smirk, but you knew the man you were about to marry, you knew he was holding back a million-watt smile.

Before you knew it, you were at the end of the aisle, Clemensia squeezing your hand and taking the bouquet of red and white roses, giving you the chance to smooth the skirt of your gown.

“Hi.” You whispered, cheeks beginning to ache from your smile.

Coriolanus chuckled softly, taking both of your hands in his own, giving them a squeeze. “Hi, gorgeous.”

Dr. Gaul, who was perhaps the only one close enough to hear the small greetings, looked at you both to make sure it was okay for her to begin.

“Today, we are here to celebrate the union of two of Panem’s most important people, two people who I have gotten to know throughout their time at the Academy, University, and mentorship.”

The ceremony was shorter than some other weddings you had been to, with you and Coriolanus wanting to share vows in private, not wanting the nation to listen in, wanting to keep some things between the two of you.

Before you knew it, Dr. Gaul was announcing you two as the Snows, the crowd erupting into cheers as you and Coriolanus shared your first kiss as a married couple.

-----

With the ceremony over, you and Coriolanus had a short period of time before the reception, taking place in one of the grandest ballrooms in the Capitol. There would be more people at the reception than there were at the ceremony, with Coriolanus getting ready to run for election in the coming months, so you knew you had to be on your best behavior and help pull the votes in for your husband.

“What’re you thinking about, wife?” Coriolanus asked, lovesick smile on his face as he referred to you as his wife for the first time.

“Hmm?” You asked, shaking your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. “Nothing, just how lucky I am that you’re my husband.”

“Oh? I thought I was the lucky one.” Coriolanus replied, leaning in to kiss you in the back of the luxury car, which was taking you to the reception hall.

You couldn’t help the blush that tinted your cheeks. “Coryo,” you murmured, slipping off the bright red heels you had picked out to wear to the reception, Coriolanus grinning up at you from between your legs as you had brought the idea up one night a few weeks ago.

“How does it feel, to be a Snow?” Coriolanus asked, knowing glint in his eyes.

“Feels like I’m worth a million bucks.”

Coriolanus laughed, fixing his bowtie as the car pulled up to the entrance, groaning when he saw Lucky Flickerman and his parade of cameras.

You knew better than to say anything to the weatherman-turned-host, leaving it all up to Coriolanus, who greeted the cameras with a stiff smile and a “it feels wonderful, something I’ve always dreamt of” when asked how it felt being married.

Entering the reception, you and Coriolanus were greeted with cheers, clapping, and a few wolf whistles.

You two did first rounds greeting the more important people in the room, people you two had known since you were both children.

Tigris squealed so loud you and Coriolanus both winced at the pitch, but laughed as she clapped and hugged you two. “Officially part of the family! I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“Tigris, we aren’t even siblings.” Coriolanus chuckled, hand around your waist and thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

You lightly slapped the man’s chest. “Oh, hush. She’s been a sister to me since we first started dating.”

Tigris took your hand, admiring the new addition to your left ring finger. Next to the engagement ring now sat a white gold wedding band, matching the one that now adorned Coriolanus’ left hand.

You promised to have a girl’s night with Tigris as Coriolanus dragged you away, knowing you two would be talking all night if he didn’t break up the conversation while there was a lull.

The two of you ended up in front of Casca Highbottom, who was unusually well-groomed, beard tame and hair gelled. “Well, I guess you can thank me for this.”

“Pardon?” You asked, feeling Coriolanus tense at the elder’s words.

“If it wasn’t for my thinking of the Hunger Games, you two would never have spoken a word to each other.”

Coriolanus did nothing more than give a short smile to the man, thanking him for his wedding gift before you two left him to his morphling and posca.

“Why did you invite him, Coryo?” You asked, finally being able to sit for a moment.

“It would have looked bad to not have my father’s best friend here. The man technically did is the reason we’re where we are now.”

You shrugged, agreeing with Coriolanus. “Come on, I want some cake.”

Coriolanus laughed, following you towards the four-tiered red-velvet cake.

------

Collapsing onto the bed, you sighed contently as you toed off the red heels you had been dancing in all night.

“What do you think, shall we spend our first night married as we did the last night as an unmarried couple?” Coriolanus asked, already shedding his clothing.

“Oh, I like the way you think.” You smiled, sitting up. “But you have to help me undo this corset before anything.”

a/n: maybe some good angst next? what do you think my little snakes my little rainbow fiends

[creeksandsocks]

The Diner

Pairing Eddie Munson x f!reader

Tags: Fluffy, Mature (just to be safe), bad writing, writer has no knowledge of Dnd, Mentions of food/eating

Authors note: okay, this is my first EVER fic, so please bear with me 😪 as the writing and pacing will probably be janky. This is really a conglomeration of a bunch of little ideas that come into my head about the man of the hour, please feel free to leave me constrictive criticism or any asks! Thank you so much for reading my fic *mwah

[3.8k words]

It's freezing, early winter’s 9 PM wind gives you goosebumps down your legs. You wrangle the flowing pleats of your skirt in your left hand, hoping to both provide yourself any semblance of insulation and protect yourself from flashing your panties to the empty Hawkins High Parking lot. Your right hand clutches the pay phone to you, it stays nestled in the crook of your shoulder as you desperately try to call Steve. 

Your eyes reread the graffiti that was hastily scratched into the weathered plastic of the booth. Before you can reread the entirety of the angsty scribbles on the wall, you're put through to voicemail. For the umpteeth time,  you hear his outgoing message repeat “You’ve reached Steve, I can’t answer your-”. You slam your finger onto the “2” symbol of the key pad, effectively skipping through the rest of his message so you can beg into the receiver.

“Hey, man!” you grit “I get your probably tired, but, like, im freezing out here. Please come pick me up- us up!”

You're stranded in the parking lot of your own high school. Dustin had somehow convinced you that it was in fact a good use of your Friday night to drive him to his hellfire club meeting. Because you loved him (and because your BFF Robin was forced into an awkward and inescapable dinner with her estranged grandparents) and your Friday night was rendered free you gave the kid a ride. After dropping him off and sending a lighthearted wave his way (which he decided he isn’t yet too cool to reciprocate). You tried pulling out of your spot. The thing is, you’re close enough to downtown and already out of the comfort of your bed that you decided to make your time at least a little bit useful, maybe exchange the sweater that's been sitting in your trunk for two months or windowshop downtown? But, your plans were ruined the second you place your foot on the gas.

While contorted in the front seat, trying to stretch and see behind yourself as you peel out of your spot, the car's steering wheel pulled against you and and the entire vehicle veered left. Slamming your foot on the break your heart sunk. Fuck, you think im screwed. You hop out of the drivers chair and the cold bites at you as you timidly make your way around your car, investigating what the problem could be. You make a semicircle around the hood of your car before you are met with the culprit. A cartoonishly large nail was stabbed into the side of your tire, leaving the entire thing deflated. 

Though it felt like your joints had been frozen and locked into place by the nipping cold, you remarkably made it back into the driver's seat of your car, relishing the heated air that swirled around you. Running through ideas you decided your best bet was Steve. You didn’t have a spare tire, your parents would probably make a whole fuss out of your flat tire, robin was busy, too. Though he had made a big point on how “fucking awesomeeee” his before-dinner nap would be, you couldn’t fathom it lasting longer than the four hours it had been - let alone a phone call blaring from his nightstand. 

You scavenged around your car and ended up with a decent ball of random change from the floor mats of your car. Reaching into the backseat you grabbed the sweater you had stashed back there before leaving. You threw it over your head, and pulled your hair from being trapped under the neckline. You braced yourself and did a mad dash to the phone booth. You called Steve three times before you decided your attempts to rouse the, apparently still, sleeping bear were futile and trudged back to your car. After turning your keys in the ignition and warming your stiff fingers in the vents you devised a plan. You'll wait here for the duration of Dustin’s campaign When the meeting is scheduled to end, you return to the phone booth. Given that the meeting goes its usual fifteen minutes overtime, you'll have enough time to call and convince Steve to come and be a hero to both you and Dustin. In the absolute worst, most embarrassing, hoping-you-get-hit-by-lightning case you could ask Gareth for a ride. Out of all the driving-age Hellfire members, he’d probably be most keen on doing you a favor like this. In fact, he said he owed you his “entire life and academic career” when you corrected his French homework for him. But, you've never hung out with, colloquially known to Dustin, “the boys”. Let alone any boy ever. It just felt too intimate to ask him for a ride, besides you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle standing in the vicinity of the leading member of Hellfire who’s been the apple of your eye for the past few months, Eddie.

To set the record straight, Eddie is known as gumdrop to you and Robin (because it is in fact best friend law to have nicknames for your guys’ crushes). Robin, you and Steve have all basked in the shared misery of lovesickness together from behind the counter of your job at Family Video. Besides silently judging customers and their movie choices, you spent your shifts reveling in moments throughout the day when you had brief and blushing eye contact with your respective crushes. 

For now, you were entirely content with adoringly staring at the side of Eddie’s big, boyish head from the last row of your history class. Besides gentle urging from both your closest friends, you’ve never really made a move on him. Other than asking him the day’s date or sharing shocked eye contact whenever your teacher said something especially out of pocket. In the cafeteria, Robin often stared at you knowingly every time you started gumdrop’s direction, giggling when he made a stupid or obscene gesture from the head of his own table. She was frankly disgusted when you blushed at him halfway-choking on a pretzel. You thought, hahaha hes sooo funny and silly he coughed omgg lol his friends didnt notice when the pretzel went downthe wrong pipe ahahha omg hes so cute i didnt even get the ick from that he's like a baby ani-.

That leads you to now, freezing and hopeless. From far away you hear the auditorium doors slam “damn it!” You curse. The hollering of pubescent boys is a telltale sign Hellfire has let out. You decide that it's the lesser of two evils to just ask Gareth for a ride rather than be discovered by a pack of teenage boys as you curl yourself around a pay phone. You put your last 10¢ into the pay phone and add to the avalanche of messages Steve will be bombarded with when he wakes up. “Okay, so! Change of plans, I'm getting a ride you don't need to do anything, goodnight love you bye!” You quickly gush out before you slam the phone back into its holder. Resulting in a  reverberating, metallic chime from the man-handled tech. You lean your back on the wall of the school, pitching both your feet out in front of you and using the push of them to keep you balanced. You take a deep breath, it's refreshing even though stunted by the pinching cold. Moments after you’ve made yourself comfortable against the brick wall, Jeff swings around the corner followed by Freak and Gareth. 

They do look shocked to see you, but certainly not disappointed. In fact, they're probably in heaven. You're a pretty girl stationed just outside of a seemingly successful club meeting. They form a line facing you, and Gareth speaks up first. “Hi, what’re you doin’ here? Like, we don’t mind or anything but Dustin said you were just dropping him off?” You inhale to reply before Jeff blurts out “We’re actually gonna grab some burgers down the road, if you wanted to come?” The sweet boy tries to dull his own enthusiasm by (not)cooly adding “Cause you're with Dustin anyways”. I mean, you are hungry and Dustin loves these guys, why deprive him of a prime Friday night just because you are nervous? You shock yourself with how confidently you reply “Yeah, actually! I would love to, I mean as long as it's not a burden at all!”. 

“Oh shit!” freak interjects and whips his head towards his left, “Jeff I left my backpack in your car”. Jeff deadpans the man before gesturing for him to follow out into the parking lot. Now alone there's a comfortable silence between you and Gareth.

He breaks the silence asking you how your night went. You start, “Uh… my car actually-”.

You’re abruptly cut off by being body slammed into the brick wall behind you. Your senses are overwhelmed by a throb at the back of your head and shoulders paired with the strong scent of a boy. You groan and slowly open your eyes. Standing in front of you Is Eddie Munson in all of his glory - he tightly rounded the corner thinking he would be met with emptiness, but instead slammed you a step back into the school's wall. As he steps back from you he apologizes profusely, “Oh my god, i'm so sorry, seriously! I really didn’t expect to see you there, are you okay?”. You give him a gentle smile and reassure him “no, don’t worry! It’s really okay, like actually it doesn’ even hurt”. He continues to apologize and confirm you haven’t been damaged by his foolery. You continue to tell him that, really, you’re okay. You forget about the cold air, Gareth (who is bent over laughing at his best friend) and the slight pain in your skull. When you realize that: Eddie is still standing very close to you and he is still very cute from that distance. It seems you both realize at the same time that you're standing intimately close,  but he only steps back seconds later when he’s snapped back into reality by Dustin and Mike rounding the corner. 

“HEY GUYS”, Gareth wheezes as he angles himself towards two youngest arrivals. Now fully upright, but still suffering the aftershocks of what is probably the hardest he’s laughed all week. “Eddie just-” he cuts himself off again with guffawing. 

Eddie whips around, “C’mon man it wasn't even that funny” he grits. Though it’s impossible to tell, it sounds like his eyes are wide and pleading as he commands his friend. Eventually, Gareth is able to share the scenario with both the freshman and the boys returning from their car errand. By the time he's gotten it out, even you and Eddie, though blushing, are able to laugh at yourselves, too.

Youv’e all organized yourself into a huddle. Everyone is delighted to confirm that “operation burger” is indeed still a go; mostly unchanged by you, the newest addition to the escapade. You hadn’t found an appropriate time to share the unfortunate predicament that your car could be found in just yet. You decide that it's better to drop the bomb on Gareth after your group diner-date. Hoping to avoid baskining the in the humiliation for the entirely of your time if he so happens to say no. Eddie, being the only owner of a vehicle large enough to transport the entire group of teenagrs, was forced into being the driver. Thankfully though, he doesn’t seem to mind; assuming the role similarly to how he did with becoming the leader of Hellfire club.

Walking to his van, which is parked in the back corner of the parking lot, Eddie and you lag behind the rest of the group. Walking near him, you watch as both of your guys’ breath is visible in the night air. Though Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will often gushed about their weekend-long campaigns to you, you didn’t really know much about DnD. Much to the dismay of the kids, you never joined them in a game no matter how eager they seemed to teach you. “So, how was your, uh, game” you question, “is it, like, finished or successful, or did you win or something?”. Though you cringe at yourself for sounding so amateur in your questioning, you’re proud of yourself for talking unprompted.

His furrowed brows raise as he processes the question. He removes his hands from deep inside his leather jacket pockets so that he can gesture with them. “Well it actually was pretty cool!” he enthuses, and you're immediately relieved that he understood you, “They made a lot of progress in it- but it's still far from being done, like a couple hours at least. They usually take a couple meetings before we can wrap them up. But so far, im totally kicking their asses”. He smirks when he notices that you stared kindly at him with big eyes without his entire spiel. Besides softly reassuring him “nice, that's good..” an awkward silence fell between the two of you.

You're close enough to his van that the freshman who were leading the pack are waiting expectantly at the side of the van. From your peripheral vision, you can see him eyeing you. You probably look pathetic right now, goosebumped legs, and clutching your thin sweater around yourself, in a futile warming hug. “Umm” he breaks the silence, “are you cold? I can give you my jacket, it's no problem really-”. You blush and angle your head to the right, hoping to shield your smirk from him. You whip your head around to respond to him, but he's already it shrugging off. Though you’re delighted to wear his jacket. His jacket! You're scared that he's simply offering because he’s a gentleman. It’s not out of character for him to act so gallantly towards you; he opens the classroom door for you every time he's given the opportunity. One time he even pried your stuck locker open for you while you fawned at his biceps flexing under his Slayer band tee. You grab it from him and enjoy the fact that it’s still warm from his body heat. You also enjoy the look of his outfit, a Dio shirt layered over a white long sleeve. You earnestly thank him before you bundle up in it and overlap the front zippered panels on your stomach, wrapping yourself in it. His jacket smells just like him, perfect and manly without the suffocating amounts of cologne.

The entire group reaches the van and piles in. It seemed Eddie wanted to offer you the passenger seat, but Freak was already buckling himself in before he could ask. You’re all squeezed in the back two rows. You, specifically, are squashed between Mike and Dustin. The ride to the diner is filled with boys recounting the events of the campaign, congratulating and criticizing each other. You reach your destination before you’re even able to entirely settle in, it’s maybe four minutes from your school. He parks in the back of the parking lot. He doesn’t want to clog up prime parking with his massive mode of transport. You all rush into the diner and head to one of the booths that lines the walls of the decrepit diner. He gestures, kindly, for you to take the first spot, nearest to the window. You slide in and he quickly follows suit, he wants to make sure he secures the prime spot next to you. Everyone piles in freak next to Eddie and you end up facing Dustin, and you kick his shins under the table like your siblings. Jeff and Gareth are sitting on the backrest of the booth that both younger boys occupy, leaning in. Weirdly, the diner is barren for a Friday night. Some sleazy party is probably booming in one of the estates in a neighbourhood nearby. Though out of the ordinary, none of the group condemns the empty diner. You are subsequently free from prying eyes of jocks and now have even more reason to be rowdy, though still respectful enough to avoid annoying the entire restaurant, diners and waitstaff, alike.

Mel’s diner is nice enough, it’s had a boost in business since Benny’s went out of business a while back. The seats are bright vinyl leather and the two legged table top is infinitely sticky. Some of the overhead lights flicker occasionally, but overall its a nice place with a gumball machine exactly to the left of the front entrance. 

You keep Eddie’s jacket on, not wanting to lose the conforming weight of it wrapped around your shoulders, it also shields you from the night’s cold seeping in through the front windows just next to you. An older waitress comes and collects your orders. You only want a chocolate shake despite the cold, chocolate milkshakes always hit the spot. Dustin orders one too, only switching it for vanilla. Most of the boys order burgers, fries and drinks. They're probably starving - they've unlikely had any sustenance since school ended other than Mountain Dew and Pringles that they feast on during their campaigns. While waiting for the food to come, the boys continue to recap their campaign and Eddie makes sure to tilt his head towards you to fill in any information he thinks that a non-participant would need to follow along.

It feels awfully intimate to have him so close to you, almost cageling you in every time he verbally annotates the conversation. The old leather seats pucker under his manly frame and his radiating body heat makes your mouth water as he's splayed out next to you. Sometime  after placing your orders, he stretched both his arms around the back of the seat rest. Leaving his arms wide and chest opened. It almost feels like his arm is around your shoulders - being squished three people deep into a two-seater has forced your shoulder near to his armpit. From there, his body heat radiates even stronger.

The waitress eventually brings your guys’ food, she splits it into two runs in order to prevent spilling any. Everyone’s quieted now, fully focused on eating their meal. Eddie keeps his left arm, the one behind you, perched on the back of the seats. His right arm was relieved of its station and holds his burger.

He’s a cute eater, you think. He closes his mouth politely as he chews but still stays engaged in the conversation by furrowing his brows or a strained closed-mouthed smile. As he takes a challengingly large bite of the burger ketchup squeezes from the burger onto his lip and pants, his tongue darts out to lick the small drip from his lips. The drip on his jeans is just above the line that connects his thigh to hip. The ketchup doesn’t immediately absorb into the black denim and almost hovers above it, nestled in the folds of his pants. Now, it is not your fault that the ketchup is a mere four inches from his… manly convexity and it is not your fault that you're entranced by the projection in the crotch of his pants. Your head snaps up when he peers over at you with blushing cheeks, embarrassed to have spilled on himself in front of you, even in such a minor amount. You keep eye contact and barely contain snorting laughs  as he gingerly slides a napkin from the table and wipes the glob off his pants. He still has an unchewed mouthful of burger, bulging his cheeks out like a hamster when he slowly places his pointer finger against his mouth. At that, you both chuckle. He balls his previously pointing hand into a fist to cover his mouth as it opens to laugh.

He smirks the left side of his mouth and side eyes you, in an attempt to keep his head straight as he sneaks one of his fries into your shake. Grinning mischievously as he brings the dipped fry to his mouth. You return the favor, keeping your head straight ahead as you strain your eyes looking to the right to steal one of his fries and eat it bite-by-bite. He doesn’t even mind that you chose one of his perfectly soggy long ones instead of a sub-par fry. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten to the diner. You don't want to leave, you've fallen into comfortable conversation with all the guys at the table. You even basked in moments when all pairs of eyes were on you as you shared juicy bits about school drama that was previously entirely unknown to them.

When your waitress finally arrives you all silently agree to pay for your own meals, it's common knowledge among broke high school kids like yourselves that it's everyman for himself when it comes to paying. Everyone pools their money in the middle of the table. As someone who has easy access to the bills and change that clutter the table, Eddie takes to bundling it up and handing it to the waitress, he tells her to keep the change with an unsubtle wink that she’s unamused with. Eddie doesn’t even look at you as he slides the five dollar bill you placed down to pay, back to you. You assume he thought you laid it out on the table as you rifled through your wallet for exact change. Before you can correct him, though, he's already sliding out of the diner booth. You follow him out and hold your flaccid bill out to him.

 “To pay” to tell him, hoping your assumption had been correct, that he just didn’t notice your bill sitting on the table.

“No uh, I did you! I’m happy to do you!” He says as he stretches his arm up to nervously scratch his neck. 

“What?!” you say as you are laughing at his unintentionally implied dirty talk.

“No- wait, I mean I paid for you! Sorry, like I did it for you…” he becomes shy as he corrects himself and his cheeks grow pink.

You spare the poor guy any more embarrassment and thank him before you all trudge out of the diner. Eddie’s just thankful that Gareth wasn’t within earshot of that one, he was unsure he'd ever live it down.

Everyone reassumes their spots as you crowd yourself in the back of his van, and you're disappointed at how short the drive is. You hoped this moment would last forever, if not a little longer. You enjoy the familial feeling that shines in the van. The cold air that greets you as you step out the van pulls you out of the moment. 

You're sure at this point Gareth will give you a ride home, but that's at the back of your mind as you try to catch Eddie's eye so you can wave him off into the night.

[leashybebes]

@trombonechurchill, @firefighterkinard and @powersuitup, beloved star trek enablers, here are my ex-borg tommy thoughts.

fair warning, i have done very little actual thinking about this beyond vibes, so this is very much off the top of my head but here we go

the 118 are something maquis-adjacent (not necessarily the actual maquis, but ykwim) like first responders in space, providing care and occasional firepower to the resistance

buck finds tommy on a moon where they're hiding out, his link to the collective has been severed and he's desperate to get it back

eddie stumbles across their standoff and it goes south, tommy tries to take their ship, the energy weapon activity attracts the attention of the bad guys

medic marvels hen and chim have no choice but to knock tommy out inside the ship while they make their escape

tommy in injured in the escape, his borg implants are failing, they make the decision that he either 100% dies as a borg or they can operate to remove some of the implants and there's a very slim chance of survival as an ex-borg (possibly with no idea what that entails at this point, depending on time period)

so, they have a borg now, but he's an individual for the first time in years and he gets to (has to) make choices and think about morality and it hurts, it's awful

(something something tommy as a man who has Done Things that he regrets and Seen Things that he can never stop seeing. something about the dread of agency, how awful to have to made decisions)

they find out who he was - decorated starfleet pilot who was presumed dead after the battle of wolf 359, this probably introduces some kind of conflict, maybe starfleet will want him back for debriefing or something

buck, obviously, is fascinated by and enamoured with and weirdly protective over tommy, who is so visibly learning to be a person

(if i'm feeling goofy his borg name is 2 of 17)

and that is the grand total of thoughts i have had about this beyond my usual first step in writing a fic - scribbling down some dialogue

[hee0soo]

Left me waiting - A S[e]oul Story -2-

Pairing — Kim Hongjoong x Foreigner!Reader

Summary — 2 phones and 2 people staring at them for days... neither of them knowing what to do or think...

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Idol!Au, SliceofLifeAu

Wordcount — 1.1k

Warnings — none

Rating — sfw

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Unsure what to do, you stared at the piece of paper Hongjoong had given you 3 days ago during your visit at KQ. The writing on it seemed to glare at you as you contemplated on what to do with it.

Should you really text him like he had asked?

So far you had not had the guts to actually open a new chat for him, hadn’t even saved his number yet as you didn’t know if it was a smart idea.

All the things that could go wrong were racing through your head. What if he thought you were boring, or if he would get in trouble for handing out his privat number just like that! Or even worse, what if a sasaeng somehow caught wind of what had transpired inside the company 3 days ago?!

It just didn’t seem like a good idea in your mind.

And yet here you were. Late at night, bundled in your hotel room blanket with the little note in one hand and your phone in the other.

It would only take one press of your finger and his number would have been saved, or you could just go back, not save it and throw the paper into the trash. The matter would have been solved either way.

You wondered if he waited for you to text him. Wondered if he was waiting or if he had already forgotten about the encounter. A part of you wished he had while the other part, the part that was selfishly hoping he remembered you, did not.

You looked back down at the note. The scribble looked a bit messy in your opinion, but it fit him.

Hesitant you typed in the number to save it for now. The text icon seemingly teasing you as it sat there innocently like it was not causing a raging storm of anxiety inside your head.

Groaning in frustration you flopped back into the pillows on the bed.

So what if you texted him, huh? What was the worst thing that could happen? After all, it was him who had willingly given his number to you, not the other way around and if Hongjoong had truly changed his mind about this, then the worst thing happening was just not getting an answer at all.

That, you could actually live with.

And so you quickly typed something into the message bar.

Uhm hi - Send 11:43 pm

I don’t know if you remember me but you kinda gave me your number a few days ago - Send 11:43 pm

It’s y/n btw - Send 11:44 pm

---------

Tired and ready to drop dead where he was standing, Hongjoong followed his members inside their dorm.

For once, he had actually managed to part ways with his studio without having the others drag him out by the hair. Preparations for the upcoming comeback were always exhausting, but this time he seemed to struggle more then usual.

“You good, hyung?” Mingi asked in passing with his eyebrow raised almost into his hairline. The smaller rapper, waved his concern off with a nod.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just could use some sleep.”

Mingi took it. They all knew what the leader meant as it was a common thing to be felt in the group and especially for their second oldest it was almost like he was just dragging himself through those days.

“The bathroom is free right now if you want,” Seonghwa suggested from his place on the couch. He had gotten home a bit earlier with Wooyoung and Yeosang and had both of them pressed to his sides. Yeosang was snoring gently against his shoulder, not at all catching what was happening on the TV while their second youngest was playing dome game on his phone.

Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa hadn’t meant his words as a suggestion but more like a silent demand for him to hurry up and go to bed already and while the rapper would have fought him on any other day, today he just accepted it.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, quickly getting rid of his clothes to step into the shower.

The hot water running down his body let his tense shoulders relax, warming his hurting muscles from dance practice and soothing the pain as best as it could.

Hongjoong let his thoughts run wild, his mind going back to his phone where he was still hoping to get a message from the cute woman that had brought his airpods back to him.

But now, 3 days later, there was still nothing. His hope was slowly dyeing with every passing hour and he wondered if he had come on to strong.

Maybe you had gotten rid of the paper he had given you or even worse, sold it so someone! Or maybe he had let the managers gotten into his head with their possible horror stories about what could have happened.

Was it stupid to just hand his private number to you, an atiny who had obviously known who he was just based on the fact that you knew where to find him on a random Tuesday? Possibly.

But if you had really wanted to sell him out, then why did you bring his belongings back to him in the first place? So no, Hongjoong did not think that you sold it to anyone. The missing spam texts from random people was another clue to that.

Sighing he washed up.

Maybe he should just give up waiting. If you hadn’t texted now, it was highly unlikely that you were going to at this point. However he did feel his ego get a little hit in the process.

Hongjoong shut off the water just as someone knocked on the door.

“Hyung can you hurry? I still need to shower too!” San whined through the wooden door as he dried himself off with the towel waiting on their toilet.

“I’ll be out soon, San-ah!” he yelled a muttered a loving “Brat..” to himself.

San sauntered away and while the leader finished his skin care, he didn’t notice his phone on the counter lighting up with new messages.

Only when he was out and in his room already did he almost drop his phone when he saw it.

Grinning happily into his pillow he typed back…

Taglist: @lelaleleb @roronoas-wife

[secretleeme]

Phantom Thief (sfw tickle fic)

Part 2 of ‘Makeup’

After finding out that Gigi stole their items, Glisten and Vee swear to get revenge on the gachapon…

——————————————

Ler(s): Glisten, Vee

Lee: Gigi

——————————————

Gigi fled through Gardenview, not daring to look back.

She knew a certain couple of toons were hot on her trail after she “borrowed” some items. But she really needed them!

And Gigi refused to give anything back.

She darted past Sprout and Cosmo, who were baking, and Dandy and Astro, who were just sitting together peacefully.

They all watched as Gigi sped past, with Glisten and Vee following close behind her.

“I wonder what’s up with them?”

Astro commented.

“Gigi probably stole Vee’s microphone again.”

Dandy sighed.

“Ah…”

Gigi was quickly running out of stamina, and she was no where near her room, her one safe place, where no one could get in.

She had somehow got herself into the projector room, which was far away from anyone’s room.

She heard Glisten and Vee’s footsteps behind her, they were getting closer by the second.

Gigi had to think, fast.

Suddenly, she saw a few bean bags nearby and Gigi had an idea.

She quickly and quietly buried herself underneath one of the beanbags, which covered her entirely.

After a while, Gigi could finally hear Glisten and Vee’s loud footsteps arrive, and come to a halt

“W-where did she go?!”

Glisten cried.

“She can’t have gotten far..”

Vee sighed. 

“I know her, she can’t run for long, but she is verrry sneaky…”

Listening to their conversation, Gigi felt sweat form on her forehead.

Vee was smart, probably the smartest toon she knew.

She was going to get found. 

Gigi breathed slowly, trying to cause as little movement as possible, as she listened in more to the conversation.

“Shes hiding somewhere.”

Oh no.

Gigi’s heart sunk.

Now there was nowhere she could run, not that she had enough energy to do so anyway.

“I’m going to check around this area, you go to that area.”

Vee ordered.

“Sorry darling, I don’t take orders, I do want I want, and what I want to do is search THIS area.

Glisten huffed.

“…Glisten.” 

“Ugh fine! I’ll search that area!”

And with that, the two split up.

Gigi could hear both of their footsteps getting quieter and quieter. Maybe this was her chance to escape through the elevator nearby?

Counting to three in her head, Gigi mentally prepared herself to sneak away.

Gigi quickly and quietly lifted off the beanbag and-

“GAH?!”

Gigi was shocked to find both Glisten and Vee staring right at her, looming above, with smirks on their faces.

“W-WHAT? H-HOW?!”

Gigi gasped.

“We saw the beanbag move, Gigi.”

Vee smirked.

“What did you think of my acting skills? Perfect i’m sure!”

Glisten winked.

Before another word, Gigi tried to run away, but Vee grabbed her arm.

“Nuh-uh you’re NOT going anywhere this time!”

“Are you going to give our stuff back?” 

Glisten questioned.

“N-no! They’re mine now!

“Well then.”

Vee held Gigi’s arms firmly behind her back.

Glisten slowly walked towards Gigi.

“You sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

He wiggled his fingers at Gigi.

Gigi gulped.

“I-I need those items!”

“Suit yourself, darling!”

With that, Glisten darted straight to her stomach.

Gigi wiggled around frantically, putting her head down as she laughed.

“GEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NOHOHOHO.”

“This will teach you to stop stealing.”

Vee smirked, keeping a tight grip on her arms.

“LEHEHEHEHET GO OF MEHEHEHEHEHE”

Gigi tried to use her legs to push Glisten away.

“Ow! Darling that isn’t nice…” 

“WHAT YOU’REHEHE DOHOHOING RIGHT NOHOHOW ISN’T NICEHEHE.” 

“Well, theres not much you can do about it!”

Glisten started scribbling and squeezing Gigi’s sides.

And to make things worse, Vee started using her tail to prod at Gigi’s stomach.

“GUHUHUHUYSS I’M SORREHEHEHEY I WOHOHON’T STEAHAHAL AGAIN”

Gigi couldn’t take much more of this, every prod, every poke, tickled so bad.

Vee and Glisten looked at each other, before giving mischievous glances.

The tickling stopped, letting Gigi catch her breath, but Vee kept hold of her arms.

“Can I get back my Veemote?

“And my bows?”

“…Never!”

Gigi was still reluctant to give the items back.

It was one thing to never steal, but to give everything back…it was never going to happen.

“Okayyy you asked for this…”

Vee suddenly lifted Gigi’s arms up.

Oh no.

“W-WAIT GUYS I’LL GIVE EVERYTHING BACK I PROMISE!”

Gigi cried.

“What a shame, I don’t believe you.”

Vee smirked.

“Why the sudden change of attitude?”

Glisten wondered aloud.

“I think I know..”

Vee whipped her tail around and poked Gigi’s underarm with her mic.

“PFFT-HAHAHA”

Gigi screeched with laughter as she squirmed frantically. 

Vee and Glisten stared blankly at her.

The fact that a single poke in her worst spot could send her into hysterics…

At that moment,  Gigi knew she was cooked.

Gigi glanced at Glisten, who now had a sweet, yet sinister smile plastered on his face. 

“Oh my goodness that’s so funny! Gigi darling you’re so silly!” 

With little warning, Glisten scribbled his fingers all over Gigi’s underarms.

“AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANOHOHOHOHOPLEHEHEHEHSEHEHAHAHAHAHA”

Gigi had tears streaming down her face.

No matter how much she wiggled and squirmed, she couldn’t escape the extremely ticklish sensation.

“Aww, she’s dancing! Look at her! She’s almost better at dancing than me….almost.”

Glisten giggled.

“OKAYAHAHAHAOKAYAHAHA I’LL GIVEHEHE EVERYTHING BAHAHAHCK”

“Proooomise?” Vee slowly taunted.

“YEHEHEHEHES I PROHOHOHOMISE”

With that, Glisten stopped the torment and Vee let go of her arms. Gigi flopped down onto the floor and curled up into a ball of giggles.

“Was it really that bad?”

Vee chuckled, observing the gachapon.

“Y-yes!”

Gigi covered her face with the arms of her sweater, muffling her giggling.

“Sorry if I went a little overboard..I just wanted my bows back!”

Glisten knelt down and rubbed Gigi’s back.

“Heheh..its fine…”

Gigi slowly got up, wiping the remaining tears off her face.

“Here.”

Gigi got out her room key and tossed it to Vee. 

“Your stuff should be somewhere under my bed.”

Gigi then pointed to Glisten.

“And YOUR things should be in a biiiig cardboard box labelled ‘stuff’!”

“I…I’m not even going to ask.”

Glisten sighed.

“Let’s go, before Gigi steals the key off me.”

Vee chuckled as her and Glisten walked away to the elevator.

Gigi waved at the two as the elevator door closed.

“…Mwehehehe”

Gigi smirked to herself as she revealed her REAL room key, which was hidden away in her sleeve.

Of course the one Vee had was a dupe.

“Gigi wins…”

Gigi giggled to herself.

——————————————-

I finally did a part two for this YAYAYAYAYA

Hope you enjoyed!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

Hey inez! So i have a request about hallway!Chris. So i don't know if you fw this idea, but maybe one of chris's friends wanting to date/ask y/n to prom and asking chris to help him by getting closer to reader and find out what she likes (flowers, colours etc). This leads to reader feeling false hopes bc she thinks chris is actually interested in her and when she finds out she feels bad and sad.

Im a sucker for angsty fics, sorry if you dont like the idea :)

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ʜᴏᴘᴇꜱ

It starts the way most crushes do... so quietly you almost don’t notice it at first.

You just happen to share two classes with Chris. He sits a few rows ahead in English, always slouched in his seat, hoodie bunched at the back of his neck, scribbling half-finished notes in the margins of his worksheet. Sometimes he drums his fingers against the desk without meaning to. A small, mindless rhythm you find yourself memorising.

You time your walks between periods just a little too carefully. You slow down by the vending machines, pretending you’re still deciding between pretzels or chocolate, but really you’re just hoping he’ll show up.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he catches you looking and smiles. This shy, lopsided thing, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, and it leaves you dazed for the rest of the day.

You tell your friends it’s not serious. "It’s just a dumb crush. He probably doesn’t even know my name," you say, laughing it off, even though you can feel the way your heart kicks up whenever you catch a glimpse of him in the hallway.

Chris doesn’t notice you really. Not like you notice him. But you’re kind to him. You always are. And you laugh at his jokes even when he doesn’t think they’re funny, and maybe that’s what makes him assume you're just being nice.

Maybe that’s why, when one of his friends nudges him at lunch and says, "Hey, you have English with her, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Chris says, half-distracted.

"She’s cute. Think you could help me out? Find out what flowers she likes, her favorite colour, that kinda thing?"

Chris agrees without really thinking about it. It’s simple. Just a favor. And it gives him an excuse to talk to you more, which he tells himself isn't the worst thing in the world. You're cool.

It’s harmless. Sweet. Chris likes harmless things.

The first time he tries, it’s awkward. He leans against the lockers after class, pretending like it’s nothing, like he just happens to be there.

"Hey, random question — what's your favorite colour?"

He says it so casually you almost believe it’s innocent. You laugh, a little flustered, and tell him. He grins, that bright, easy grin you’re already starting to adore, and you can’t help but ask him the same thing back. He tells you it’s orange. You file it away like it’s something sacred.

After that, it gets easier. He starts walking with you to your next class sometimes, joking about the terrible cafeteria food or complaining about your math teacher’s impossible pop quizzes.

You find yourself telling him things you didn’t mean to. How your favourite flowers are your favourites because they remind you of your mum’s garden, how you hate slow walkers more than anything, how you once broke your arm falling off a bike because you were too scared to use the brakes.

Chris listens to you. Looks at you while you talk, making you think he's really listening, paying attention like every word is important. It makes you feel like maybe you’re someone worth paying attention to. Like, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a dumb crush after all.

So you let yourself believe it's not stupid, and you pay attentiont to him in return. You tell yourself, if nothing else, that maybe you've found a good friend in Chris.

Sometimes you notice the little things without asking. How he always chews the end of his pen when he's thinking. How he hums quietly under his breath when he's happy. What his dog's name is. How he sneezes, what his lockscreen is, how much he loves his friends.

And so you start to believe. Maybe he’s not just asking about your favourite flowers randomly. Maybe he’s asking because he wants to know. Because he cares. Because he likes you, the way you like him.

So you start imagining it. Hoping and wishing for it. The way he might ask you to prom, shy and smiling, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers behind his back. Eyes full of hope.

The way he might hold your hand when you say yes. The way it would feel to finally be chosen.

You don’t see it coming, the way hope sharpens into heartbreak.

It happens fast. You’re lingering by the gym doors after school, just close enough to overhear when Chris’s friend claps him on the back and says, laughing, "Thanks for doing recon, bro. Now I know exactly what to get her for prom."

You stop mid-step. Something inside you flickers and then goes out.

Chris looks up and sees you. And for a split second, something like regret crosses his face.

He opens his mouth, maybe to call after you, to explain, to say something, anything. But you’re already turning away, blinking fast and breathing hard and telling yourself not to cry in the middle of the stupid hallway.

You don’t hate him. You hate yourself, a little, for believing. For hoping. For thinking you could be the exception to the rule.

You walk away, pretending it doesn’t hurt, even though it feels like your heart is unraveling thread by thread.

hallwaycrush!au taglist: @courta13 @snoopychris @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @sheluvsthesturniolos @sturnslutz @chrislova @chrisslut04 @mi-co-uk

a/n: tysm for this request anon,, i hope u liked it!!!!! lmk if u want a part 2 or sumn :>> there is no canon with hallwaycrush!chris,, so you can request anything you'd like with him (pls request stuff jsdfbhsj) !!!

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

[ysabelyaps]

Since you're taking asks, I got an idea ^^

maybe Sae byeok (could be an au where the game never happened or just post game) x fem!photographer reader that loves taking pictures of her, just some fluff with Sae byeok not being used to people giving her positive attention.

Thanks for reading, bye!

Guys I’m on a road trip, I have something to do now 🙏

Also this is my first fic and English isn’t my first language so forgive me 😓 and this is also like hella short. Like really short. I can try and make like, a part 2 if you guys want (*^ω^*)

Smile

⇠✧❀✧⇢

You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm, a pencil in hand, your notebook on your desk. You have a project for your photography class where you need to take pictures of something, any living thing.

You were scribbling down ideas until you eventually you got frustrated and ripped the page. You threw your pencil onto your desk and laid your head down.

That’s when Sae-Byeok walked in. She’s been your roommate for a the past year and a half, while you guys aren’t necessarily super close or anything, you guys do talk every now and then.

“..I’m back..” she mumbled. That’s it, that’s what you’re going to photograph. She’s pretty, she’s perfect, and you’ve always wanted to take pictures of her anyway, you just know she would likely never allow you. Especially since you weren’t exactly friends, but now you had a reason.

Although, somehow, even with the excuse you were too nervous to actually ask. So here you were, outside her room, the door cracked, sneaking photos of her with your camera while she remained completely unaware.

Or that’s what you thought, “..uhm.. what’re you doing?” She turned her head, putting her pencil down and staring at you.

“Huh? Oh uh- nothing- I was just- I was doing homework that’s all” you probably should’ve just asked her.

“..by taking pictures of me?” “It’s for photography class”

You guys kind of just stare at each other awkwardly for a few minutes.

“You could’ve just asked,” she sighed. “Why are you taking pictures of me anyway?”

Oh shit. Now what? You can’t lie, you’re terrible at that, but you’re also definitely not telling her it’s because she’s pretty. You can’t say it’s because you think she’s absolutely divine and gorgeous and magical and-

“You’re thinking aloud.”

“Oh..” You laughed awkwardly

⇠✧❀✧⇢

It’s been a few months since that, and now you constantly take pictures of her. How did you escape that situation you may ask? You didn’t. That was terribly awkward for you. However, now you and Sae-Byeok are at least friends, for now. I mean, what?

“I know you don’t have no projects right now, why are you still taking pictures of me?”

“You’re pretty, that’s why. Smile?”

She just sighed, a small little smile appeared on her face for your picture. It was weird, pretty? The last person to call her pretty was her mom. All of this attention from you was new. But, she didn’t hate it. No, she actually kind of liked it. It was nice for someone to pay attention to her.

“Sae-Byeok, I’m going to order dinner, what do you want?”

“Huh? Oh uh, anything is fine. Thanks”

This was new for both of you actually. It was new for you that someone wasn’t planning to run away and avoid you at all costs. It was new to her that someone paid this much attention to her.

“You’re pretty, that’s why”

Oh she’ll be thinking about that for ages.

When she went to bed that night, it’s just repeated through her head.

And now, she’s here thinking, at 2 am, if she’s gay. If she’s gay for you specifically.

I mean, yeah, she liked you, you were a good friend. You were a nice person in general. But.. the thought of being with you.. she kind of liked it. It made her feel something new, you made her feel butterflies. You paid attention to her and genuinely cared about her, she really likes that. She really likes you.

No one has ever been as nice as you to her, or made her feel like this. You didn’t make her feel like a freak of nature. Sure, maybe other people in the past might’ve thought she was pretty, but no one ever said it. It’s different when someone actually says it. It’s different when you say it. It’s different when it comes from you.

2:37 AM

Knock knock

“..huh? Sae-Byeok?.. It’s like.. midnight.. what is it-”

“I like you.”

⇠✧❀✧⇢

[peachhcs]

something funny?

so high school au (emma grace x gabe perreault)

advanced french 2 and econ don’t mix. gabe has no idea what’s going on, but luckily emma does!

2.1k words

wooo first real fic of the au!! this was actually so cutie to write and if anyone has any requests/ideas for emma and gabe pls send them in! :))

au masterlist

emma's gaze slid towards the dark-haired boy sitting beside her furiously scribbling down work for a class that most definitely wasn't for advanced french 2. the graphs and tables for sure screamed economics or something similar because she remembered very well doing those a few months ago before she graduated.

the blonde tore her eyes away from his work and tried focusing on the lecture at hand, but for some reason she just could not pay attention no matter how hard she tried. all emma could think about was the amount of work she needed to do once class was over while praying that a table was open somewhere in the library.

god knows everyone's trying to get ahead before the semester quite literally devours them. the professor started leaving her desk to mill about the classroom while she spoke and the boy beside emma hadn't even looked up once—too focused on econ.

the other thing was that emma was feeling gracious today, so she nudged the boy's leg so he'd at least look like he was paying somewhat attention when their professor walked by. his gaze shot to hers and emma just motioned towards their professor about to breeze right past them. gabe's head snapped right and he immediately hid his econ papers as the lady walked by.

"if you're not paying attention next time she walks by, i'm not helping you out," emma whispered. gabe's eyebrows rose, amusement on his features.

"jeez, okay. didn't ask for help in the first place," the boy shrugged as he returned his focus to his other work. emma studied him for a few moments trying and failing on getting the graph right.

an uncontrollable giggle left her lips at the boy's poor, poor attempt. his head snapped back in her direction, another eyebrow raised, "something funny?"

emma immediately shook her head despite the smile still tugging on her lips, "not at all."

"something must be funny if you're laughing," gabe sneered back. he's had a long day—being up since 6am for morning skate—and the last thing he needed was some girl he didn't even know making fun of him.

"i just think it's funny watching you do econ in an advanced french 2 class," the blonde shrugged lightly.

"it's not like i need to pay attention away. already know french."

emma blinked while the boy turned back to his laptop. why on earth was this kid in advanced french if he already knew french? "you already know french?"

"mhm. fluent in it, actually," gabe's cocky smile almost made emma wanna slap it off him.

"then why are you taking french if you already know it?"

"because i can and i want to. i think it's funny. do you know french already?" there went that stupid eyebrow raise again when gabe looked at her.

"i do, yes," emma mumbled.

"so why are you taking french if you already know it?" his little head tilt and stupid smirk didn't sit well with the girl. she didn't have time to respond though because the professor walked past their section again, eyes probably trying to find the culprits who were talking in class.

"see? didn't have to help me that time," god, he was insufferable already. maybe emma shouldn't have started interacting with him. life 10 minutes ago was a lot better than life now.

"don't you have time to do all this work later?" she didn't know what possessed her to keep talking, but something about this boy intrigued her as much as he frustrated her.

"not really, no. early morning skate then actual practice right after class. by that time it's late and i'm lazy," gabe shrugged and it all finally clicked for emma.

he was a hockey player. made sense now. no wonder why he never paid attention in class.

"don't you like get banned from playing if you don't keep up with your work?" emma didn't know that much about how sports worked here, but she knew if her brother didn't keep up with his classes, he couldn't swim.

"i keep up with my work, don't worry," gabe snipped a bit. this time emma raised her own eyebrow while trying to keep in another pitiful laugh.

"mhm, sure. tell that to your econ class."

the professor walked past their section again, definitely trying to catch emma and gabe whispering. the two watched her stalk by before heading towards the front again. the blonde's eyes were on gabe's homework again, working through the problem in her mind. she immediately saw his issue—he had the wrong numbers on his graph which messed up his calculations. it was an easy fix.

"your numbers are wrong," again, despite the boy's annoying attitude, she was still feeling gracious. her curiosity about him was too high not to help.

"huh?"

"on your graph. it's supposed to be by .02. that's why you aren't getting the right answers," emma pointed out briefly.

gabe studied what she just said and looked back and forth between his numbers and graph, slowly realized she was in fact right. "oh," he mumbled.

"next time i won't help you," emma smirked.

"not like i asked for your help in the first place," the hockey player mumbled as he started redoing his entire graph with the right numbers.

the two didn't talk again until the last ten minutes of class. gabe was still furiously working away on his econ homework while emma took occasional glances in his direction. she thought he was stupid for waiting until last minute to finish it, especially in another class.

he nudged her leg first this time and her gaze snapped to his, "hey. what else you know about econ?"

he probably had about ten more problems left with no finish in sight anytime soon. emma stopped another pitiful laugh wanting to escape her lips.

"a decent amount. why?" the girl raised her eyebrow.

"probably a long shot, but any chance you could help me out later? i really gotta finish this assignment it's already two days late and if i don't, coach will pull me," gabe almost begged, but his pride and ego were too big for that.

the look on his face and big, puppy dog eyes were hard to say no to for emma despite everything in her telling her no. she'd feel bad if she didn't, especially when his mistakes were probably easy fixes. if only she wasn't so nice sometimes.

"i can give you my number and you can text me. i'll be in the library for a few hours after class," emma motioned for his phone.

"really? you'll actually help?" gabe seemed surprised she said yes.

"i feel like i don't have a choice, plus econ is easy for me. you probably have stupid mistakes that are easy fixes," she started punching her number into the boy's phone.

"how long will you be at the library for?"

"i don't know. until 6?" a good three hours seemed like enough time for emma to grind out her three page essay.

"shit, i have practice then. any chance we can meet at like..9? i know it's inconvenient, but i don't have any other time," he was such a hard no. even if emma didn't know him nor did she even really care for him, she felt bad not helping.

"9 works. just text me," the blonde nodded.

a genuine smile painted gabe's lips as well as a somewhat relieved look, "thanks so much. i really appreciate it. i'm gabe by the way."

"emma," the girl smiled back.

—

man, she should've said no. emma didn't think he was coming. it was 9:15—fifteen minutes late—and no text or anything. she left to her dorm two different times and there was still nothing from the the boy. the only people in the library at this hour were her and the few who just didn't have a social life and completely studied their asses off at any second they got.

in some ways, emma was that person just a bit more dialed down. at least she didn't spend hours in the library.

she checked her phone again and nothing. a sigh escaped her lips because she really thought gabe cared a little bit somewhere inside of him to not completely flake.

when all hope seemed lost quick footsteps came up behind emma's table and suddenly, gabe's frame was beside where she sat.

"i'm so, so sorry i'm late. practice ran over and then my friends had to talk to me for..i'm sorry," his apologize was unexpected, but appreciated. emma managed a small smile.

"really thought you'd flake on me," she laughed.

"i was gonna text, but then i forgot. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to waste your time," gabe rambled on as he sat down and dug his things back out.

his rambling actually made emma feel a little bad, especially because he looked so flustered like he ran all the way here from the rink. "it's fine. don't worry about it. i'm here all the time anyway," she shrugged him off to not make him feel as horrible.

"i respect the pjs," gabe commented on emma's flannel pj pants and boston college swimming sweatshirt that was definitely tyler's that she stole.

"oh, thanks. had to be comfortable, you know?" the blonde flushed some. gabe nodded in agreement.

"i did a few more problems, but i'm still kind of..lost, i guess. i dunno. i don't really know how what i'm doing wrong," he pushed his paper towards her feeling semi-embarrassed he couldn't do what should've been simple calculations and graphing.

"let me see," emma pulled the paper closer. she scanned her his work trying to find what the issue could be.

"hold on, i get it. you're not multiplying the right things which i think is giving you the wrong numbers. trying going row x row," emma instantly saw what was wrong.

gabe did as told and five minutes later, everything made a lot more sense than it did before.

"oh, i get it now. i was calculating wrong," he mumbled.

"see? easy fix. the other answers should make sense now," emma nodded, smiling.

"how are you so good at this? i feel like i'll never truly learn econ," gabe's gaze met hers again briefly before they both looked away.

"oh, i don't know. i've always been good at like math and stuff," doing math had always been emma's strong suit. growing up her friends always went to her when they were stuck on a problem.

"i wish i had that kind of talent. it's never made any sense to me," the boy mumbled, smiling successfully after completing all the other problems. "does this look right?"

emma glanced the page over, nodding, "yeah, looks good. the graphs are the hardest part i think because if you don't get those, everything's wrong."

"thanks, i appreciate the help. sorry again for being late," gabe met her gaze again—his eyes looked flushed and tired like he hardly ever slept. that feeling of pity returned in emma's stomach the longer she stared at him.

"it's no problem, really," her lips pushed together into a small smile.

"do you think i could text you again whenever i need more help in the class?" the boy wondered as he packed his things back up.

emma studied him again. those books about the athlete looking for help from the smart, quiet girl was seeming a little too real at the moment. the look on gabe's face though said otherwise like he wasn't trying to mess with her. he looked genuinely interested in the help she could provide him.

"why don't we like meet every other day or something and i can like tutor you. maybe help you understand the class a bit better?" the girl suggested which honestly sounded crazy coming out of her mouth because did she really have time to be tutoring this hockey player? apparently.

"like for real?"

"yeah like for real," emma laughed.

the smile on gabe's lips reappeared when he realized emma wasn't joking with him, "o-okay. yeah, thanks. i'd appreciate that. is it okay if we meet at 9 then? i would do earlier but i like don't have time."

"yeah, 9 works."

"i promise i'll try not to be late, but i can't promise it," the two shared a laugh.

"don't worry about it. see you in class then?"

"yeah, see you," her and gabe left the table together, giving slightly awkward waves to one another as they went in different directions to leave.

it was safe to say both of them didn't stop thinking about the other all night.