#they also failed to order beer and bar and kitchen were in mess

[ig-quince-works]

my coworkers be like "you don't do your job" and then the café fucking collapses whenever i don't work more than two days in a row

[coffeedrgn87]

December 20th Drarry Drabble: "Hot Cocoa"

Read Parts 1 through 4 here.

Tags: Breaking Up With Someone, Coming Out, True Friends, Insomnia, Flashback, Grouchy Owl, Grouchy Malfoy, Supportive Ron, Emotional Harry, mention of a crush Harry may have had

Two days after Harry had confided in Ron, seeking his counsel in the back of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, he still hadn’t extracted a suitable memory. The unbreakable memory phial was on the kitchen table, but Harry had temporarily given up after seventeen failed attempts. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to extract a memory—he did it often enough during investigations and when submitting his testimonial to the Wizengamot—but rather that he struggled to focus on isolating a single memory.

Each time he tried, no sooner had he grasped the strands of a single memory; everything simply blended together, creating an indecipherable mess. It was frustrating at best and beyond infuriating at worst. Each time he took a crack at trying to banish the cursed mistletoe with the help of an offensive spell, he failed spectacularly.

While the stinging hex had singed the edges of a single leaf, it had also left him with a gigantic bruise on his behind, and a rather ferocious fire spell had nearly burnt his entire office to the ground. Since that catastrophe, Kingsley had ordered him to take a leave of absence. Harry was less than pleased about having been ordered to take time off a job he loved doing, but since there was absolutely nothing he could do to change Kingsley’s mind (he’d tried enthusiastically), he had no choice but to sit at home.

After a whole day of fruitlessly trying to extract a suitable memory for Malfoy to use, sleep was something Harry wanted more than anything but couldn’t get. Sapped, with heavy eyelids that insisted on involuntarily drifting shut, Harry heaved himself out of bed and padded into the kitchen. His pyjamas were rumpled, and loath to fumble for the light switch, he’d wandlessly conjured a sphere of warm golden light. 

He wasted a few minutes trying to work out what to do with himself before searching the pantry for cocoa powder, honey, vanilla extract, and a fresh carton of long-life oat milk. Despite feeling drained, Harry managed not to burn the milk as he gradually heated it over a small flame on the stove. Once it had the right temperature, he stirred in a paste of cocoa powder, honey, a pinch of salt, and a few drops of vanilla extract and poured himself a large mug of steaming hot cocoa.

Wrapping his hands around the mug, Harry sat at the kitchen table and slumped forward. With weighted eyelids and a heaviness in his limbs, he laid his head on his arms and quietly observed the small puffs of steam rising from his hot cocoa. A long yawn made his eyes tear up. Blinking to try to clear his vision, Harry struggled to determine why everything was blurred. Eventually, it dawned on him that he hadn’t bothered with his glasses and grumbling into his five o’clock stubble, Harry dragged his mug of cocoa closer and took a few careful sips. A swoop of comforting warmth surged through, and letting his eyes flutter closed again, Harry decided to rest his eyes.

Within seconds, his mind whisked him away to another time and place; to a conversation, he’d almost forgotten about.

“Ron?” Harry slurred his words as he sluggishly dragged his fourth pint of the night closer. The beverage sloshed over the rim of the glass and ran through the water droplets clinging to the outside of the beer mug. A puddle formed on the bar. Harry absentmindedly reached for a bunch of napkins to wipe up the mess but paused when Ron fixed him with a slightly concerned expression. He slowly tilted his head and, offering Ron a toothy grin, leant close.

“You know I love you, right? Like, we’re best mates, always have been.”

Ron frowned.

“Mate, I think you’ve had enough. I’m cutting you off,” he said, attempting to take the beer from Harry.

Harry blocked Ron’s hand, though instead of pushing it away, he took it and sandwiched it between his palms.

“Let me have this one. I need some Dutch courage, alright.”

Ron’s forehead creased further.

“Why?” he asked, making no move to extract his hand.

Harry grumbled, unwilling to answer his friend’s question. Instead, he admired Ron’s fingernails, looking at them with enough interest to convince his alcohol-soaked brain that he’d never seen anything more exciting.

Sure, he’d asked Ron to go for drinks because he wanted to talk to him, but it was all easier said than done. Looking anywhere but at Ron, Harry deliberately stalled for time. He had enough common sense to know that Ron wouldn’t let this go even if he wasn’t pressing him for an answer. Part of Harry desperately wanted to pass out, but he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for the night to end with him vomiting the contents of his stomach into the closest bin. Harry felt a twinge of sadness over that, then promptly reprimanded himself for his stupidity. Staring at his lager, he chewed on his bottom lip, then abruptly turned his head to face Ron.

“Please don’t hate me,” he mumbled.

Now Ron looked downright concerned.

“Mate, why would I hate you?”

Harry felt a flush creep across his cheeks. His armpits felt wet, and grimacing, he swallowed several times. Chest caved, and chin dipped down, Harry squeezed Ron’s hand, holding on to it as though it was his lifeline. He cleared his throat and glanced at Ron, whose friendly, expectant expression only made him squirm even more.

“I— err— Gin and I— we— I— err— we— we sorta— I— erm— calleditquitsforgood.”

Curling his toes in his boots, Harry pulled his knees together and hunched over to make himself as small as possible. He looked down at the bar and dug his nail into a tiny gap in the wood while gnawing at his bottom lip to stop his chin from trembling. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the verbal bollocking of a lifetime and even accepted the possibility of Ron hexing him on the spot. After all, Gin was his little sister, and Ron was highly protective of her, even if she didn’t always appreciate his big-brother-concern. However, Harry wasn’t prepared for Ron throwing an arm around him and drawing him into a fierce hug.

“I know. She was worried you’d avoid me, so she gave me the heads up.”

Whirling his head around, Harry stared at Ron.

“You— You’re— You’re—”

“I’m not mad, Harry, no. Sure, Gin’s my sister, and you’re my best mate, but I’d rather not force two people who aren’t meant to be together to stay in a relationship that’ll make them both miserable.”

Harry heaved a dry sob, then blinked furiously as his eyes started to burn.

“Hey, shush, it’s OK; I’ve got you.”

Like a big brother, Ron’s reaction was instinctive, soft, caring, and protective. It did nothing to prevent Harry’s floodgates from opening, and clawing at Ron’s shirt, he buried his face in Ron’s neck and bawled his eyes out. Even while sobbing, a part of Harry feared Ron’s rejection, worried Ron might want him to pull himself together, but each time he tried to pull away, to flee from the situation, Ron simply tightened his hold on him.

After a few failed attempts, Harry eventually surrendered and relaxed in Ron’s arms. Ron soothingly rubbed his back, and although Harry couldn’t stop crying, he didn’t think he’d ever felt safer or more protected. There was so much he still wanted to say, but Ron made it obvious that there was no rush and that he was allowed to have an emotional breakdown. The knowledge that Ron wasn’t judging him and wasn’t mad at him for breaking up with Gin was like a balm to Harry. It soothed his bruised heart, calmed his frayed nerves, and when he finally looked up and met Ron’s gaze, he felt a million times better.

“Uhm,” he said but broke off when Ron handed him a bunch of napkins.

“Blow your nose first,” he said. “You’ve got snot pouring down your face.”

Harry huffed a laugh and did as told.

Afterwards, he fidgeted with the used napkins and gave Ron a sheepish look.

“There’s more,” he said.

Ron smiled.

“Are you planning to give up on becoming an Auror and shack up with my dragon-wrangling brother instead?” Ron teased affectionately and bumped his shoulder.

Harry pulled a face.

“I mean, Charlie’s hot, but erm, no,” he said.

Ron laughed.

“Not Charlie, then. I am poking the right bear, though, yeah? I mean, you two were quite flirty over Christmas. Don’t think I didn’t notice those love eyes you two were making at each other.”

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you noticed that. It was just a harmless bit of flirting; nothing happened, I swear. I mean, it’s not that I’m completely opposed to what Gin— err, I mean what women have to offer, it’s just, I think I prefer—” Harry trailed off there, unsure how to continue.

“Men?” Ron offered helpfully.

Harry shrugged.

“I guess. I’m not sure. I think so.”

Ron smiled.

“You don’t need a label, mate. Whatever makes you happy.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck.

“So, uhm, you’re not— mad?”

Ron’s warm chuckle made Harry’s stomach flip.

“I’m not, Harry, I would never, I couldn’t. Anyone who gets upset at that can fuck off. They don’t deserve to be a part of your life. You’ve given the Wizarding World so much and sacrificed so much; you’re entitled to your happiness. How it presents doesn’t matter; it just needs to work for you.”

“What if I was just an ordinary bloke from down the road.”

Ron guffawed.

“Mate, you deserve to be you no matter who you are.”

Harry’s eyes started to burn again, and blinking, he offered Ron a sheepish smile.

“Thanks, mate, this means the world, you know.”

Ron shrugged.

“That’s what friends are for. I’m glad you decided to tell me, though. Means a great deal that you trust me like that.”

Harry grinned.

“You kinda wrangled it from me.”

Ron laughed. He picked up his pint and proposed a toast. They clinked their glasses together, and each took a large sip. Harry delighted in the coolness of his lager, and his throat thanked him for the hydration.

“Sorry, still, you wanted to share, and that’s all that counts.”

Jerking awake, Harry bumped into his mug of hot cocoa and clumsily spilt half of it onto the table. In his confusion and feeling his neck protest over his choice of pillow, he felt for the memory phial and without thinking, he extracted a silvery strand and guided it into the phial. It took a moment for it all to sink to the bottom, and once the last thread had slipped inside, Harry secured the phial with a cork that automatically sealed the whole thing with a spell. Shoving his chair back, Harry stumbled out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into the living room, searching for Odette, his barn owl.

He found her dozing on her branch by the open window, and when he approached, she pecked at him.

“Oi, I’m sorry, OK? I really need you to deliver this, please. I’ll buy you those treats you love tomorrow, I promise, yeah?”

Odette tilted her head sideways and regarded him with an expression Harry could not interpret. She looked displeased, exasperated, bewildered, and highly judgemental but made no move to extend her leg.

Harry stuck out his bottom lip.

“Please, come on, you love me, right?”

Odette hooted, then pecked at him again.

“Ouch, honestly, aren’t you meant to be a creature of the night?”

The look Odette gave him had Harry shrink back to steps.

“Come on, please, I want to get rid of this blasted mistletoe. Help me, yes?”

Odette let out a quiet hoot and finally extended her leg. Harry quickly tied the phial to it and opened the window a little farther. Odette flapped her wings a few times before disappearing into the night. Harry stared after her for a while, then turned around and slowly made his way upstairs and back to bed.

He woke up the following morning to find that Odette had delivered a note, which she’d kindly dropped off on his nightstand:

Potter,

There was no need for your owl to deliver your memory to me at sodding two-thirty in the morning. Have you no manners? Please, for Merlin’s sake, don’t answer that question.

D.M.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

You messed with my heart too long

A/N: I posted this anonymously on ao3, but I’m really proud of writing this so decided to post it on here as well. Please, please let me know what you think, it would mean the world to me. 

Summary: When Richie accidentally burns his food right at the same time as Eddie arrives home, he fears he's in for a verbal beat down. He's used to that thank to his ex-boyfriend, who mentally and emotionally abused him before Richie realized what he was doing to him. Once Eddie works out what is happening, he is quick to assure Richie he would never treat him in the same manner.

Warnings!: mental abuse, mentions of physical abuse and Bev’s abusive ex, Richie thinks Eddie going to react badly (he doesn’t but he still thinks about it) 

read on AO3

Richie, in all fairness, has never had any confidence in any way, shape or form. He’s not sure why that is. His mom and dad were good, loving parents that indulged into his secret little hobby’s, and when Richie at age 24, a fresh college drop-out, told his parents he was going to take a gamble and try to make it as a comedian, they supported him wholeheartedly. Of course, they were a little disappointed that he never got a degree in case things in the comedy field didn’t work out, but they were convinced of Richie’s talent. They were truly the best parents anyone could ever wish for, at least in Richie’s mind.

The losers were also nothing if not supportive towards him, though they had been long gone before Richie turned 24. They made fun of him sometimes, on the occasions where a joke ran too far or failed miserably, but they also made sure that Richie knew how much they adored him in reality.

Beside from getting scolded at every now and again by Eddie or Stan, about his hygiene or lack of self-awareness, they also never tried to change him to fit their wants. For some unknown, nonsensical reason, they liked Richie with his flaws and all.

Truly, Richie has no inkling as to where his insecurities came from, but he does know that he never let them stop him from doing anything when he was still friends with the losers. Quite the opposite even, if he got nervous about performing in front of his class, he would loudly ask to go first, laughing boisterously and slouching against the teachers desks, pretending like the activity wasn’t even a blip on his radar. When Henry’s taunt would hit a particular soft spot, and Richie felt the urge to sulk or mope, he’d double down on the thing Henry found annoying, and get a bloody nose for his troubles.

He fought hard to be ready to perform in front of people that weren’t the losers or his parents, and the losers departing from Derry just made that worse. With the losers, he felt confident enough to try and be himself, without them, he saw himself as useless in every sense. His very first live performance sucked, and in retrospect he’s really glad none of the losers were present because within five minutes of walking on the stage, he had forgotten his lines and threw up in full sight of the audience.

If his mother hadn’t persuaded him into trying again a few months later, and that one actually working out, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier would have been buried before it began.

But that was before all the progress Richie made in all the years he’s been doing comedy. Despite having the occasional setback, he mostly outgrew throwing up before an act, and he could objectively look at himself in the mirror and conclude that he wasn’t the most hideous person the world had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

In fact, according to people on his twitter page, he was being described as hot and possessing a form of appeal that drew people in. He didn’t find himself good looking by any means, but there was a huge difference between hating everything about himself, and accepting that he was not as hideous as the beast from the Disney fairy tales he was a big fan of as a kid.

And then, in the prime of his mental health, he had met David, and every ounce of self-worth faltered like snow under the burning scorch of the sun. It only took five weeks for David to absolutely destroy the very thing Richie had toiled at for over twenty years.

David was his first boyfriend, who he met just shortly before his thirtieth birthday, and he took more than advantage of that. The first night they first laid eyes on each other, after one of Richie’s shows, David had walked up to him at a bar and promptly declared his show was absolute shit.

Normally Richie would feel hurt by these comments and would pretend to brush them off as if they were never uttered, but something about the way he said it caused Richie to laugh so hard he snorted part of his beer through his nose. It wasn’t until he saw Eddie with Bill and Mike at Jade the Orient ten years later, that his quarter fell. In the beginning, David had reminded him of Eddie. It wasn’t until much later that it became clear David’s intentions were not as innocents as Eddie’s.

Richie assumed the guy was pulling his pants, because who would dedicate their time to flat out insult someone they had never met, and so he had greeted him and bought him another beer. David wasn’t particularly funny, and he never laughed at Richie’s jokes throughout the night either, but he was very eloquent and could keep up with Richie’s conversation topics, though he always seemed to be able to turn and twist the subject so that it gave away another one of his qualities.

By the end of the night Richie never expected to hear from him again, and he was okay with that. His conversation partner had been interesting, but not to the point where Richie wanted to know everything about him or see him again.

David felt otherwise, as thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, he’d found Richie’s number, and when he texted him to ask him on a date, Richie had been too thrilled that someone was interested in him to containplat if he even wanted to go.

That same day the date took place, David had granted himself the title of boyfriend, and Richie went right along with him. They never officially verbally agreed to date, but they held hands and David slept over most nights then not, and his mother got so happy that she saw him with someone that things progressed naturally.

At first, Richie didn’t notice that David was influencing him in a negative way. He only had one close friend, Steve, who was simultaneously also his manager, and he constantly praised David for making Richie a changed man. Because Steve saw it as something positive, so did Richie.

His voice got progressively stiller, as David would ream at him multiple times a day that he was annoying everyone around them with his booming voice, and that he was an attention-seeker who would do anything to get the limelight on him. Richie practiced his voices less and less when David started to critic every aspect of them every time he would overhear him. It got worse once they started living together full time.

‘Hey Rich, no voices? Come on I want to know if you’ve improved over the years, let us hear it.’

He cut off all fatty foods when David glanced at his plate and grimaced, asking if he was really going to eat everything on the plate. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Richie could connect the dots that led him to believe David found him too fat. Lying became a sort of second nature to Richie, as he dared to eat a small pack of chips when David was away, and deluded him the next day by stating he hadn’t eaten any. Sometimes, at times where David thought Richie was away, he would observe him going through their trash to catch Richie in the lie. He’d fight tooth and nail to deny the accusation, and never admitted to it.

David complained just about everything Richie did, including the way he held his towel whilst drying the dishes, ‘For god sake Richie don’t rumple up, hold it in your palm and open it up so you can get to the surface more.’ When Richie tried to joke that David’s way didn’t necessarily mean the best way, he’d yelled that Richie was an ungrateful bastard and that if he had to do it his way because the way he was doing it was useless.

Useless, that was a word Richie learned to associate with himself as whatever he did would get dragged down by David, until there was barely any Richie left. Once again Richie began getting stage fright, worse than when he was a child, and on one evening David witnessed his total bomb of a show, and told Richie he had pretended he didn’t know him to the people watching. That hit so hard, the fact that someone was disgusted to be linked to him, that he stopped writing his own comedy and hired someone to do it for him.

There was so much negativity surrounding him and David, but when Richie tried to address his problems, David would make him seem like he was the one that was crazy. Like he was seeing things that were not there. David rolled his eyes and waved off any of Richie’s attempts to defend himself, but then denied doing it after the fact.

‘You’re a loser Richie, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid to take my ribs seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘comedian’? You’d think you’d know what’s a joke and what isn’t.’

A can of coke being set down too hard on their dinner table was enough to get David off of the couch, where he’d been watching football and ordering him around, and into the kitchen, striking a tirade that Richie was ruining their furniture with his fumbling. Richie was constantly on edge that he was doing something wrong - and he was according to David -. He avoided David as much as he could, but the latter would find something to fault him on regardless. Life had transformed into a prison cell.

Later Richie would scold himself for not leaving, but how could he? David manipulated him to the point Richie truly believed he was doing all of those things wrong, to the point where he was the one crying and begging for David’s forgiveness. He was gaslighted, manipulated and blackmailed at the same time, with gifts that weren’t a one-off after Dacid crossed a line too far, and they often contained a very expensive item that Richie had eagerly awaited for a long time. Richie felt like he owed it to David to stay, if only for all the money he had spent on him.

There were days Richie would get so furious he was prepared to scream back at David, to let his anger be set free and unleashed upon the one person who deserved it, but then David would show up with a gift out of the blue, or would grant him a loving caress, and Richie was gone for him again.

Not to mention that Richie’s self-esteem had sunk so low, he wasn’t ready to face a world without having David there to guide him along with things.

Barely five months before Mike’s earth shattering phone call, Richie ran out of all mental capacity to deal with the torment a moment longer, and packed his things, disappearing on a cold blistering night. David called him, of course, but Richie was a coward, and never answered the phone.

He only sent David one text to tell him it was over, and then promptly blocked his number without waiting for a response. He heard from gossip that David spread lies about him, and told other people about how much of a terrible boyfriend he had been, but Richie never objected to the claims. He agreed with him anyway.

Mike’s call had been, for a large proportion anyway, a saving grace. Reconnecting with his best friends and destroying the thing that loomed over him for so long was liberating, and Richie viciously wished that Pennywise had come back sooner, so that his tortures road would have been that much shorter.

There was no lingering bitterness inside of Richie because of this though, not when his life was finally in the best possible place it could be. Eddie and him got their heads out of their asses, or more like Eddie got out of his and decided to yet again be the brave one out of the two of them, and they started dating almost immediately after defeating Pennywise. In only a week's time, Eddie made the move from New York to Los Angeles, and with him he had brought the happiness Richie had long forgotten he could ever possess.

His marriage with Myra had been just as much a scam as the relationship between Richie and David, and his divorce was swift - no surprise there with the way Eddie always prepared for every possible scenario-, but Eddie almost always avoided talking about it. In a way, Richie was disheartened by that.

It was no secret Eddie married a woman that was basically a mirror image of his mom, and at times Richie caught himself wondering if Eddie had realized how smothering she was or if he had been so hunkering for the normality of life as a straight, married man that he never paid her enough attention too. He wonders if he was the only one stupid enough to not realize the gravity of what was happening to him.

Richie has debated on flat out asking Eddie about it, but, and there’s always a but, that would mean he would have to tell Eddie about David, and he is overcome with a rare form of anxiety, something deeply ashamed nestling in the place where his trust is supposed to be at the mere idea.

Swearing on the holy turtle god that managed to save them from Pennywise’s claws, Richie was originally planning on confessing the whole thing to Eddie on day one of their relationship. He truly was, and he had even conjured up humorous escape alternatives to duck his way under a fire load of questions Eddie was surely about to ask him after.

He even prepared himself to tell Eddie in Derry, right after overhearing Eddie’s phone call to his wife, feeling empowered that Eddie would come to understand. Bev interrupted before he could, perhaps a blessing in disguise. Before Eddie fully put down his phone, Bev had sweeped in the room, requesting a meeting downstairs to talk. Richie had been helpless to follow and listen intently, and if he was being honest with himself – he wasn’t – he felt a tiny bit of relief that he wouldn’t be subjected to any negative attention. Until Bev started to confess how her life had been before Mike called them.

All at once, a sickening hatred from himself overwhelmed Richie. He was so angry that he had dared to feel sorry about himself, and here Bev was, with a situation that was incomparably worse. The more details Bev entrusted them with – Richie may have promised to never kill anyone again, but he an exception could be made - the more Richie’s food from a few hours before threatened to choke him, and not even Eddie’s cream smoothed hand holding his distracted him.

Near the end, after they’d progressed from such an melancholically topic and began drinking away the booze in their hotel, Richie had drawn Bev’s attention with a call of her name, to either make her smile or to assure her that she wasn’t alone, Stan send him a withering look, as if to warn him not to open his mouth. Stan’s assumption was fair, it was in Richie’s nature to find humor in places there shouldn’t be, and he had no idea about Richie’s past to think otherwise. Still, every time Richie considered telling Eddie, the look flashed in his mind and sewed his mouth shut.

Not telling Eddie hasn’t impacted things the way Richie had predicted it would. Really, Richie was doing fine. Eddie chastised Richie on certain things, but Richie didn’t freak out or experience any sort of flashback. He would be given a peck on his forehead, or a hand running through his hair, and he’d know that Eddie was never mad at him. It was the littlest details that had Richie out of his mind with love, that highlighted just how different Eddie and David were.

By now, Richie had decided he was fine with not telling Eddie anything about David, and the extra weight of keeping something a secret was his boyfriend was just another fee to carry around with him. But life always throws a curveball Richie Tozier’s way when he has finally made plans.

This curve ball comes in the form of soup. A horrendous chicken soup that Eddie cooked up two days in advance, an experiment of different herbs that clashed into a symphony of flavors all competing to be the primary flavor. There are two things to know about Eddie as a cook. Number one is that he is not an impressive cook – and it’s not for the lack of trying - but Richie doesn’t mind. Eating food that doesn’t please his taste buds but getting Eddie in return for it is a fair deal in Richie’s books.

The second thing to note is that Eddie is a lazy cook. He turns the kitchen into a battlefield of different sauces, with jars a million different pots and pans skewed across the stove and no more room to place anything else left. It’s gotten to the point that whenever Eddie is in charge of cooking, they will not even put their dinner on a plate anymore, but instead leave it in whatever it’s made in, because it eliminates dishes to wash. That’s what starts the mess that day in first place.

Richie isn’t an idiot. Yes, he can be dense at times, and when it comes to loving Eddie he’s more than a bit moronic, but he’s not stupid. He’s had to survive on his own – and with someone who didn’t lift a finger - for a long time, thus there was no other way. He’s aware of the danger of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, and how it can cause the metal to heat up and start a fire, and therefor has never been stupid enough to try it. But today, Richie is stressed.

Steve has been calling him all day to try and persuade him into doing an interview for a magazine, and no matter how many times, how loud or agitated Richie says no, Steve still insists. Richie paces annoyed towards his fridge phone locked between his shoulder and ear, so he can take out the metal bowl of soup with his hands, and place it in their microwave without a second thought.

‘Steve I don’t care how much publicity you think it will get me, I don’t want to do it,’ Richie mutters, turning around with his back towards the warming soup. The consistent arguing with Steve has his teeth grinding, his shoulders tense and his anxiety sparked.

Eddie is still out for work, but it’s closing at five pm, the time he ensures he’s at home, and Richie thinks he can hear his car driving up into the gravel parking lot. The absence of his boyfriend is about to be filled, and Steve is yapping away in his ear, not content to admit defeat just yet, it’s maddening.

‘Steve… Steve listen to me, don’t get your panties up in a twist, I have to go. Don’t book the interview. I won’t take any part in it.’ His denial doesn’t put a stop to Steve’s yapping, but at that point Richie is over his nagging. He pinches the bridge of his nose and utters; ’Okay nice chat’, and hangs up without waiting for a response back.

He lets the phone clatter on top of their kitchen surface and says that Steve got the message, if only for the rest of the day. His phone doesn’t vibrate again, leading Richie to assume he has won this round. He can’t help but lean forward so far his head rests against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter, just sighing for one long, extended breath. A night in on the couch with Eddie spooning him has never allured him so much. His back cracks with a satisfying pop as he readjusts his body, and he groans in gratifications.

Their alarm dings loudly in the open concept kitchen, a warning that someone has just entered their driveway. Richie doesn’t need to go look to know that it’s Eddie and his large, black suv, but he wants to anyway. He’s about to walk towards the front door to greet Eddie like he’s a pet that has been waiting anxiously for its owners return – and some would describe him in the same manner - when the air fills with smoke and a rancid smell. It’s barely detectable at first, nothing more but an insentient odor that is unpleasant but not resolute and easy to ignore. But then actual smoke begins to wash it’s way around Richie, and he has a split second of blissful unknowingness left, until the problem dawns on him.

Richie follows the smoke trail, and is shocked to find their microwave steaming and actually crackling, like it’s on the verge of exploding. It probably is. Still, it’s nothing compared to the cluster bomb of fumes that spread throughout the room when Richie actually opens the microwave door and gets slapped in the face with the enormity. It’s a surprise that their smoke detector has yet to erupt.

Instantly, his airways fill up smoke, prickling his cough reflection so tremendously he doubles over in extortion. The coughs rattle his body in a painful manner, his chest and back start to hurt from the brutal movements and the fact that he can’t grasp fresh air no matter how wide he opens his mouth. Objectively, Richie should understand it can get a lot worse - their smoke detector hasn’t gone off, and there are no flames to accompany the smoke and therefore turn their house into a major safety hazard - but a panic he hasn’t felt since David has shut down his logical thinking skills.

A key is slotted into their keyhole, and it turns a first time to leave. Eddie is about to open the door, in give or take in about a minute – it always drags out because despite living here for give or take two years, Eddie still can’t remember this lock unlatches via the left side and not the right – and walk in on an absolute shit show that Richie’s engendered.

So far there was indication, no sign that hinted to Richie he still had leftover, undealt trauma left from his time hanging around David, but now, his only thought revolving around how mad Eddie is going to be, how much trouble he’ll be in once Eddie sees everything, he starting to realize he might not be as over things as he originally believed.

He ignores the way his lung burn, and reaches forward to grab the pot – with fogged over glasses rendering him blind - protection less, not even grabbing the oven mitts to provide some shelter for the warmth. He can’t comprehend how dangerous that is, can only focus on the red lights blaring in his mind, telling him he needs to get rid of the evidence before Eddie gets here and unleashes hell upon him.

Unfortunately, he’s too late. A door unlocks and Eddie enters the house. His feet pad on their wooden floor, brazen and fast, like he’s been waiting for a shot at grilling Richie and he can sense his opportunity to do so has arrived – the motion is so un-Eddie Richie dismissed it as absurd then and there, but a seed of doubt remains -.

With time, Richie comes to learn how to listen to the different footsteps, and he can now recognize who’s walking towards him and in what kind of mood they find themselves in, without taking one look at the person's face.

Eddie’s footsteps, after every work day, drag across their floor, as if a thousand pound weight has been added to his back. The bottom of his shoes wear out a lot faster than Richie’s do, and it drives Eddie nuts because out of the two of them, he’s the one that treats his material objects neater than Richie.

Richie’s always delighted to notice how light his footsteps get after just a few minutes spent with him or the losers.

Now, he is too scared to pick up on such little details. His palms tingle unpleasantly, the boiling liquid burning them more with each second he hangs on. He stands in the middle of their kitchen like a fool, turning his body every which way and letting his eyes dart out an escape plan. The smoke is nowhere near gone, and there’s too much of it for Richie to open a window and it to be blown away. Eddie’s going to notice, there’s no way he can’t.

‘Richie, you won’t believe what this imbecile Josh did at work today. I swear, I don’t understand how some people can get fucking hired sometimes.’

Eddie trudges into the kitchen, his suit wrinkled from a long day of frantically working on a report that should have been finished by some other incompetent coworker. The groves in his face are more prominent today, acquired by the years of unhappiness he experienced with Myra, the ages of his life cut off by the shock of Pennywise's return and the occasional busy work day his job supplies him with.

A nausea craters in Richie's stomach, filled with guilt for turning Eddie’s night off into a stressful event that requires a ton of clean up. Eddie stops dead in his tracks when he notices the mess, his mouth slips shut, the word dying on his tongue.

He’s waiting for Eddie’s frown to deepen, for his lips to cresting into a fury. He’s waiting for the waterfall of insults that will be hurled at his head, each one meaner than the last, honing in on his deepest insecurities and having them exploited because Eddie’s so angry he’ll do anything to strike a verbal blow. And it’ll be worse now, because it’s Eddie. It’s the love of his life doing it now, the one’s approval he seeks most.

Eddie’s the person that knows him inside and out and knows exactly what boundaries to push and prod out to crack Richie open from head to toe. He waits for all that, with his hand still clamped around the bowl of burning hot soup, scorching his palms – by this point, Richie is sure there will be blisters by the time he finally unclasps his grip.

Eddie’s frown does deepen, but it’s not out of anger. ‘Rich, be careful you’ll hurt yourself.’ Richie doesn’t let go, but holds onto the sides of the bowl tighter. Part of him wants him to experience the pain, to let what he did sink in like David’s words always did.

‘Richie’, Eddie says startlingly firm. He’s not trying to approach Richie or the bowl, but he’s capturing Richie’s attention just by his firm voice. ‘Put it down.’

Richie drops the bowl of soup, watching helplessly as it splatters all over their freshly painted walls and the ground. Out of the corner of his eye a flat glob of liquid drips down the wall, dirtying a whole line down to the floor. Richie cringes, his heart beating so fast he could swear it’s about to jump out of his chest, and his mind a mantra of ‘look what you did, look what you did, look what you did.’

‘Fuck Richie, did you burn it?’

And Richie knows he’s caught. He was, up to two seconds ago, holding the evidence right in his hands, but he’s so petrified logic is not operating in his brain at the moment. The only thing he can focus on with great clarity, is that he’s willing to try anything to get him out of a verbal tear down.

‘No..’, he tapers off at the end, leaving his statement much more alike a question than he would have preferred. Eddie raises one eyebrow suspiciously, pointily averting his gaze towards the smoke floating around them.

‘No?’ He asks back equally confused, head tilted to the side. Richie can feel his throat closing up in panic, bracing himself for an onslaught. He doesn’t foresee Eddie’s nurturing and concerned approach. ‘Let me take a look at your hands’, Eddie murmurs tenderly.

It’s technically nothing new, the way Eddie treats him. After Neibolt and Richie’s big coming out, Eddie commenced all his vacation days and flew Richie all the way to Hawaii, for the pure intention of getting him away from any and all consequences. He’d allowed Richie to eat what he desired - within reason of course, there was no way Eddie was allowing Richie to eat pizza at 8 am-, waisted their days sitting by the pool and indulged in Richie unchancy pranks - one of which ended up with Eddie scrubbing out blue glitter out of his hair. Eddie had been kind then, so it shouldn’t be surprising he is in this situation.

It doesn’t take away the fear Richie is left with. David had good days too, days that he was the perfect boyfriend, but that would never last long, and Richie is left to speculate if it’ll be the same thing with Eddie.

Maybe it’ll be hidden in a secret message, maybe Eddie is busy hatching a plan that will utterly deploy Richie from the inside out. Eddie’s hands are gently skimming over Richie’s palms, inspecting the damage without irritating the skin even more. ‘It doesn’t seem like it’s bad. It hurts right?’

‘Yeah’, Richie croaks when he figures out the question isn’t rhetorical. He isn’t sure at the moment why that’s supposed to be good.

Eddie tips forward, stretching up higher so he can kiss Richie’s forehead tenderly. Against his skin he explains. ‘That means the burn isn’t too deep, but hold it under the water still.’

‘No but you know what does go deep?’

‘Nothing if you don’t treat your burns,’ Eddie teases with a smirk. He gently ushers Richie closer to their faucet, and holds his own palm under the stream of water, twiddling with the different temperature taps until he finds one that he deems just lukewarm enough to allow Richie’s hand under it.

The smoke in the air remains unspoken about. It’s almost as if Richie is more important than a potential house fire to Eddie, but that’s absurd. Not only because this is the house that both of them felt was the right one, and subsequently paid a lot of money for, but also because Richie isn’t that special. He’s not even trying to be condensing towards himself, because he truly believes that.

‘How did you manage to do this huh? Idiot.’ Eddie jokes while guiding his hand under the water at the correct angle, his salutation gets smoothed over by a hand ruffling his hair. Coincidentally, or perhaps the exact opposite, a part of the stress Richie accumulated falls away when Eddie calls him an idiot. It helps to underline why exactly Eddie will never be like David, why the two aren’t in the same league of each other even.

When Eddie says idiot, it’s a nickname, it’s a middle school jab when Richie runs too fast and trips over his own feet, it’s the symbolic soothing pat on the back he receives after he can get all of the losers to laugh at his humor. It’s their love langue no one understands, It’s Eddie’s way of hiding how deep his adoration goes with a job that’s unusual to others.

David’s condescending tone alone tipped Richie into the deep end, into a cave that echoed his deepest flaws and slammed it into the cavity in his chest every time something didn’t go according to plan. Idiot for David did not mean the same things. For David, idiot was shoving aside Richie’s concerns, it was disinterested in all his quirks and his passive attitude. He meant what he said without sarcasm.

A first tear tracks down Richie’s cheek. ‘Rich?’ Eddie inquires startled. His hand previously stroking Richie’s curls slides towards his elbow in a smooth motion.

Richie tries to tell him it’s okay, that he needs a minute to regroup but that he’s fine, but instead of that he sobs, more tears spilling over with no regards to him uneasy Richie is to cry in front of someone.

‘Richie shit I’m sorry. Does it hurt that bad? Do we need to go to a hospital? We’ll go right now.’

‘No, no hospital,’ Richie waves him off with his injured hands. Eddie leads his hand back without response, tracking his face to see if he gives away anything. Richie had forgotten his hand hurted in the first place, so he definitely didn’t require any treatment beyond what he was doing already. His tears are the result of being overwhelmed by his emotions, and his default response to that is to cry.

‘If you don’t want me to do that, that’s okay you know?’

Because his hand is incapacitated, he wipes his nose on the corner of his shirt, watching as Eddie’s wrinkles his nose at that. Still, even with the disgusting move on Richie’s part, Eddie leans in closer, molding Richie so he fits in the fold between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. There, he resumes his path of caressing Richie’s hair, and kissing his temple. Richie fists one of his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, pressing them as intimate as he can.

‘Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. What’s wrong?’

Richie sobs harder, not particularly keen on telling Eddie why he’s this upset. It’s a difficult topic to talk to anyone about, Eddie and the losers included. There were days that Richie twisted his mind to convince himself that it was all in his head. That David was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and that the tirades he had to endure was just the cost of that. He was afraid he added things in his mind that hadn’t actually taken place and he created his own narrative.

Apprehension held Richie back, dreading what Eddie’s response might be. He could exclaim Richie to be a complainer that should have praised himself lucky to get the abuse he got, or he could say that Richie was a sourpuss, turning a fly into an elephant.

‘Shouldn’t we get rid of the smoke first?’, Richie questions to stall.

‘Later’, Eddie soothes with another kiss to his temple. ‘Talk to me. Please Rich.’

‘There was this guy I used to date, David.’

Eddie’s head shoots up in bewilderment, his brow furrowed. ‘You never told me about him.’

‘Yeah well we never talk about your wife either and I thought that would mean we wouldn’t disclose our previous hang ups.’

‘Ex-wife. Remember Rich? She’s my ex-wife. There’s nobody in the world I would rather be with then with you.’

‘Stop it you bastard,’ Richie sniffles pathetically. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything when you sweet talk me.’

‘That’s the plan.’

Eddie thumbs underneath Richie’s eye socket, brushing in a hypnotic rhythm that ankers him to reality. If Richie nuzzles into Eddie’s palm, then no one else but then needs to know.

Talking about something that brings forth a lot of anxiety goes smoother with closed eyes, Richie’s come to find, so he does that before revealing what he should have revealed a long time ago.

‘He was.. not so kind’, he chuckles humorless. ‘He really thrived when he pointed out everything I did wrong, liked yelling too.’

‘Rich?’

‘Wait let me finish. If I don’t say it now I’ll never get the courage to again.’ He opens his eyes only to see Eddie nod in agreement, and his face starting to tang a bit red.

‘Sometimes I couldn’t even walk right without him being all up in my ass about it. At parties he would gladly tell everyone embarrassing things I did, or he would pretend like he did all the work at home while really he was the one that did nothing. And the way he spoke to me.. like I was a child and he was a teacher or something. And he had this way of saying things so I’d know I was a breath away from being yelled at, but so that he could still claim he never once raised his voice at me. I guess I was scared you were going to do the same thing after seeing what a major fuck up I am. . He kept insisting I didn’t do things good enough, but I was really trying my best. I fucking swear Eds. I can’t help that my best isn’t good enough.’

The repetitive motion that Eddie kept up during his long monologue abruptly ends, and Eddie instead balls his hands up into two fist, pulling away from Richie to lean on the counter. He bounces on his heels, unable to stand still any longer as he is now the one to squeeze his eyes shut.

‘Eddie?’ Richie implores, the panic from before quickly flooding through his bloodstream and entering every part of his body.

Eddie opens his eyes, and something on Richie’s face must give away what he’s experiencing, because he’s quick to assure Richie did nothing wrong. ‘No, shit Richie it’s not you sweetheart. I love you, you did nothing, nothing wrong.’

He pecks Richie on the lips twice, very softly and barely noticeable, almost a goad to get Richie to cram their lips together tighter. For a long moment, they don’t move. Their lips stay hovering just out of reach, and one of Eddie’s palms slide down Richie’s chest down to his belly and up again. It’s an effort for Eddie to try and generate as much love towards Richie as he possibly can, before his resolve breaks and he has to let his resentment for David out in some way.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Eddie turns away from Richie, but his hand remains on Richie’s stomach, a connection so they don’t separate. His chest puffs up, almost like he’s gearing up to go fight David right now. He would if he got the chance.

‘Spagheddie you don’t have to do that for me. I don’t even own his number anymore.’

‘I don’t care Rich,’ Eddie’s voice trembles but is laced with a deadly amount of venom. ‘He should have never done those things to you. If I ever see him I’ll fucking strangle him with my bare hands.’

‘It’s fine Eds, it wasn’t that bad.’ The denial burns in his chest. He wondered for a long time if he could qualify what he went through as abuse, not because he was actively hoping to label himself as an abuse victim, but because he questioned if what happened to him was worth being this upset over. In conclusion, Richie decreed it wasn’t. Eddie's eyes snap up, burning behind a sheen layer of glass.

‘He never hit me like Bev’s husband did to her.’

‘That doesn’t fucking matter. What happened to Bev is terrible, but that doesn’t make what happened to you any less dire. Both of you were victims of abuse, save for a different kind.’

Are they comparable? If they were talking about another person Richie would say yes, that both leave lasting scars, but because he’s the subject of the question, he can’t say for sure. He’s not lenient enough with himself to allow such a statement to be made. Bev can suffer from the consequences of her abuse, but from Richie’s perspective, he should be over it by now.

‘Oh fuck,’ Eddie curses explicitly, ‘and I called you an idiot. Richie I’m so sorry.’

Eddie’s little crease that only appears when he’s discontent about something appears again, and he avoids eye contact with Richie. There’s no need for any of that. Richie hadn’t even taken that big of a notice about the word. He was reassured Eddie would never use it as a true insult, and even if he wasn’t convinced of that, the tender way Eddie reacts towards him otherwise would be enough to convince him.

‘No Eddie. I don’t mind, really. I don’t want things to change between us because I told you this. I like our banter.’

He finally takes his hand from under the lukewarm water stream, and dries it on his pants -the water, come Eddie’s prediction, has eased the aflame skin -. With both hands now free, Richie cuddles up closer to Eddie, using his arms to tug him closer. Eddie is still dressed in his suit from work - and it might deem handsome, but it is not very comfortable - but has not mentioned getting changed once, too enraptured with taking care of Richie.

‘They won’t if you don’t want to, but we’re making a deal. If I do something that hurts you, you need to tell me, so I can apologize and tell you I didn’t mean any of it. Are we clear?’

‘Aye aye captain. Shall we pinky promise on it?’

‘No, I’d rather kiss on it.’

They do, and this time the kiss progresses further than just a simple peck. Eddie cups Richie’s face in between his palms, a soft, sentimental smile ruining it a little. It doesn’t matter, Richie still greedily savors the moment as it comes.

‘All those times that you went on stage and rocked that whole performance I was already infinitely proud, but shit Richie, now that you’ve told me I’m even prouder. He tore you down but you spit in his face and said fuck no, I’m still going to be my own person. I’ll never let him treat you badly again. More importantly, you’ll never let him do it again. You’re so strong sweetheart.’

Richie sniffs, ‘why the hell are you still being so sappy? I told you everything already, there’s no need to spawn me further.’ He giggles, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sight too, then he turns serious again.

‘Okay, now let me take care of you. I’m going to clean up, hush I am and you’re not going to lift a single finger, and then we’ll order in, watch tv from the bed and cuddle. That sounds good? We can talk about the heavy things in the morning.’ Richie has been through enough for one day.

‘That sounds perfect Eds.’

They let go of each other, but not before Eddie sneaks in a kiss on his forehead, cheek and jaw.

While dating David, Richie never used the word love. He knew, with manipulated affection and all, that he did not love David. Love isn’t supposed to change us, it’s supposed to accept us, makes us laugh and cry at appropriate times, and cocoon us in her warmth. Love doesn’t change us, but it adds something more to the previous person we were yesterday. Eddie adds something more to Richie every single day, be it by teaching him or standing by his side when he messes up. Richie loves Eddie, and he gets loved back equally as fierce.

[capsironunderoos]

The Four Times Buck Asks to Help and the One Time She Lets Him

Evan Buckley X Reader

Summary: Buck gets new neighbors, and he’s not used to having someone refuse his help.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: ABUSE!!! Physical abuse!!! Also death. If these things bother you please don’t read this!

Author’s Note: I got this idea after watching season two and seeing Maddie’s story. The reader is involved in a very physically abusive relationship, so again, if that bothers you please don’t read this. I plan on writing many more Buck stories soon, so don’t worry about missing out on content for our sweet boy. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me or those around you if you need help!

Masterlist

The First Time

Buck hasn’t really left his apartment since the tsunami. 

He can’t bring himself to do anything besides move from his couch to the bar in his kitchen. 

To him, life without fighting fires, saving lives, isn’t a life at all. 

Everything seems empty to him, a shell that holds him down and reminds him of everything he is not. His apartment may as well have come straight from an open house showing. There is nothing of him here, he hasn’t had time to make it his and so it sits empty, hollow, mocking the spot in the middle of his chest that has been vacant for awhile now. 

There was a time when it was full, and it was when he was seated at the table in Station 118, eating whatever Bobby had cooked up, joking with Hen and Chimney about whatever mess was going on in their lives. 

He had even gotten so lucky as to have met Eddie, who brought Christopher into his life, and their presence filled him so that he was sure to overflow with the love he had for them. 

He shakes his head at the thought, sitting quietly on a stool at the bar in his kitchen. 

The sun lets itself in, seeping into his apartment without warrant and landing on his skin. 

He hears a siren in the background and laughs, but it’s bitter and laced with hate, both for himself and for the world going on outside without him. 

He takes another swig of the beer in his hands and starts to begin his journey back to the couch when he hears a knock at the door. He’s hesitant to answer, not wanting to see Maddie today, or any of his friends. He loves them, but he doesn’t want their pity, not today, not right now. 

He walks over and slowly opens the door, surprised to see Eddie waltzing past him with Christopher in tow. 

“I’ve got a morning snack, an afternoon snack, and twenty bucks for pizza for lunch,” Eddie chirps as he sits Christopher’s bag down on the counter. 

Christopher has already found his spot on the coffee table in front of the tv. Buck stands in disbelief. 

“Eddie… what…” 

Eddie smiles at him before walking over and resting his hand on his shoulder. 

“Look brother I know you’ve got it rough right now, but you not being able to work is probably the best thing that could be happening to me. You’re really helping me out.” 

“Eddie I lost him. How am I gonna take care of him?” Buck asks, tears pricking his eyes as he thinks back to the tsunami. 

“What? You think because you failed him one time you aren’t capable? Buck, I fail him everyday and I’m his father. You know there’s no one I trust more than you to leave him with right now.” 

Buck searches Eddie’s eyes as he stands across from him in his kitchen, soul bared and heart open. Buck sees no sign of lying, or anger. 

A smile works it’s way onto his face and he pulls Eddie into a tight hug. Eddie squeezes him just as hard and pulls away, glancing over at Christopher before making his way to the door. 

“Oh hey, before I go, I think you’re getting a new neighbor.” 

And with that, Eddie is gone, running off to his shift at the station. Buck wants to chase after him, go running into danger with his family again, but Eddie takes that dream out of the door with him. 

Buck pauses for a minute and decides to see if Eddie was just fooling him into stepping out of his apartment or if he’s really getting neighbors. 

He clears his throat and opens the door, hand holding the handle as he leans into the hallway, feet still lingering in his apartment. 

Eddie wasn’t joking, boxes marked with sharpie are sitting in the hallway, and the door is propped open to allow warm light to seep into the flourescent-lit hallway. He hears footsteps and starts to retreat back into his comfort zone, but he stops when he sees you. 

Your hair frames your face just right, and the sun does wonders for the soft smile lacing your lips. A white sweater rests against your skin, and it makes you glow. Buck thinks to himself that he’s seeing an angel, here in Los Angeles, living next door to him, existing in order to remind him that not all things are terrible all the time. 

You feel him staring and look his way, a polite smile of acknowledgement is sent his way and before ehe can stop himself he’s walking over to you. 

“New here?” He asks and wants to slap himself across the face. 

How did you figure that one out, he thinks to himself, the millions of moving boxes in the hallway? 

You laugh at his question and nod. 

“Sort of. Just relocating, looking for a fresh start.” 

He nods, understanding the feeling of needing something new. 

He watches you struggle to lift a box labeled “work things” and he jumps into action. 

“Here, let me help you with that.” 

You glance at the door to your apartment and back to him, grasping onto the box with white knuckles. 

“I-“ 

“She’s got it covered, bud.” 

Buck shoots up straight at the sudden voice. 

A man has stepped out of your apartment and the mood in the hallway has shifted. You won’t look in his direction, nor in the direction of the man standing beside you now, arm draped across your waist. 

Buck’s blood boils at the sight, this man not even offering to help you move into your shared apartment. 

“You could offer to help and I wouldn’t have to.” Buck snaps in retaliation. 

Your head shoots up then, your eyes wide as they stare at Buck. It catches him off guard. 

“No, please baby I’ve got this. You go back to your work call. I told you I’d get us all moved in.” 

You speak quickly, hoping to smooth Buck’s words before they can reach your significant other’s ears. Your response does nothing for Buck, in fact it makes him more upset, but he watches it hit the man standing beside you as if it were a stack of bricks. 

He slowly nods, lips pursed as he sizes up Buck. 

“Listen man, if she needs help, that’s what I’m here for. We don’t need any help from the likes of you.” 

Buck glances at you, but he’s met with your eyes fixed on your shoelaces. 

He nods slowly and watches your boyfriend retreat into your apartment. You let out a shaky breath and look back up at Buck, offering a sad smile. 

“It was nice to meet you.” You say, and Buck nods. 

“Name’s Buck, and I’m right here if you need anything.” He says quietly and gestures over his shoulder. 

You nod and mouth thank you before disappearing into your apartment. 

The Second Time

It’s been a week since Buck has seen you and that hasn’t stopped him from thinking about you. 

It also hasn’t stopped him from leaving his apartment like clockwork, hoping to at least pass you in the hallway. 

He heard screaming and yelling the night he first met you, but he’s still unsure if it came from your apartment or the crazy neighbors upstairs. He thinks of Maddie when he thinks of you, but he quickly pushes that aside. He would not assume the worst, not yet. 

He’s tying his sneakers, getting ready to go for a run and clear his mind, get him out of his apartment, and hopefully out of his head. He’s cueing up his playlist as he makes his way outside, and as soon as he places his earbuds in his ears and looks up, he sees you. 

You’re unloading a small SUV, arms full of papers and a bag slung over your shoulder. You’re dressed up, professional clothes that sport colors he never thought a human being could pull off. Although here you are, beautiful. 

The thought makes him recoil for a second. 

You were not his and he couldn’t allow himself to think such things about you. Although, that doesn’t stop him from jogging over to where you struggle with another bag in the back of your car. 

You don’t hear him come up behind you, and when he says hey you jump, almost dropping everything you hold. 

“Oh my god I am so sorry. I should have approached that a lot differently. I should have approached you a lot differently. I’m so sorry.” 

You turn back away from him, shaking your head. 

“It’s fine.” You say softly, grabbing the bag you were reaching for and throwing it over your free shoulder, closing your car door and walking past him. 

Before you can get too far, and before he can register what a terrible idea it is, he grabs your shoulder, softly, but enough to stop you. You wince and shrug away from him, causing his eyebrows to furrow. 

“Will you please let go of me.” You whisper, eyes downcast and watery. 

The tremble in your voice snaps him into focus, and he feels like an idiot for thinking he could just grab you like that. 

“Listen I’m sorry. About that, about the other day. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble-“ Your head shoots up at that. 

“Trouble? You didn’t cause any trouble.” He nods and smiles softly. 

“Okay… Well the least I can do is help you carry this stuff up.” He glances to the stuff in your arms and sees your badge hanging on your shirt. 

“You’re a teacher?” He asks, and you nod. 

“I am, which means that I’ve handled thirty second graders today and I can handle carrying my bags up to my apartment.” Your cold tone catches him off guard, and he finds himself nodding as he watches you recede and enter the building. 

The Third Time

Buck finds himself at the 118 today. 

Not for work, he still hasn’t gotten his job back yet, but to see his friends, his family. Bobby invited him over for lunch with the promise of cooking whatever Buck picked out, and who could say no to that? 

So he finds himself now standing beside one of the trucks, talking to Chimney when he sees you entering the house. He’s surprised, and he can tell you are too when your eyes land on him and widen. 

You smile politely and he and Chimney walk over to you. 

“Hi, um, I’m (Y/N),” finally, a name. It suits you, pretty and soft. 

Chimney smiles and introduces himself. 

“Hey Buck,” you add after Chimney is done, and he glances between the two of you before quickly leaving. This is the first time you’ve said his name, and he can’t help the change in pace his heart makes at the sound of it rolling off your tongue. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

He notices the slightest trace of purple on the right side of your face, beside your eye, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’d done a pretty good job of covering up a split lip with cherry red lipstick. It matches the long sleeve you wear, which is coincidentally covered with small cherries and is tucked into jeans. 

“Yeah everything is fine. I’m here to respond to a want ad?” Buck is confused now. 

“I thought you were a teacher?” This elicits a small laugh from you and his heart is beating so fast he knows you can see it through his button up shirt. 

“I am. Someone here is looking for after school help.” 

“That would be me,” Buck hears over his shoulder and looks to see Eddie walking towards the both of you. His smile is huge, genuine. He’s excited to see you, and Buck can’t blame him, he is too. 

“Buck here told me about you being a teacher and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to reach out.” He starts and you blush, cueing a wide smile to take over Buck’s face. 

“Oh, thank you. I love to teach, and I can’t wait to meet your son. Plus, I can really use an extra distraction right now.” 

“Tell me about it.” Eddie laughs your comment off, but Buck hangs on to every word leaving your lips. 

“Well, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t see a need for an interview and if you’ve passed the Buck-ground check then you’re good enough for me.” 

“Oh ha ha very funny,” Buck retaliates and you and Eddie laugh. Eddie shakes your hand and gives you details for your first meeting with Christopher before retreating back upstairs. 

“You good to get home? I can help you get a ride?” Buck asks after a beat of silence and you open your mouth to answer but someone else’s voice comes out. 

“Hey what’s taking so long?” 

Buck looks over your shoulder to see your boyfriend waltzing into the station, hands in his pockets and shoulders rolled back as if he owns the place. He sees you standing with Buck and a grimace etches itself onto his lips. 

“Buck. Thought I’d made myself clear, we don’t need your help.” He’s beside you now, hand wrapped around your arm at the crook of your elbow. Buck spares a glance there and he can tell you’re uncomfortable. His blood starts to boil and he starts to mouth of at him when he’s interrupted. 

“Actually I’m hiring her to tutor my son.” 

The three of you look up to see Eddie, Chim, Hen, and Bobby watching from upstairs. Your boyfriend nods, grip still tight on your arm. 

“Well thank you. We’ll be in touch.” At that, he turns around, pulling you with him. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder at Buck and your boyfriend quickly pulls you into his side, whispering in your ear as you leave the same way you came.

The Fourth Time

The sound of shattering glass wakes Buck up so suddenly that he has to catch himself in order to not fall off the couch. 

He’s disoriented for a minute, not remembering falling asleep there, but when he catches his bearings he hears screaming. He sits in the dark, listening to try and see where the sound is coming from. When another unidentified object hits the wall near his bed his heart sinks. 

The sound is coming from your apartment. 

He glances over at his clock and notes that it’s five in the morning. Another minute passes and everything has gone quiet again. 

Buck is conflicted, he doesn’t know if he should intervene and risk making things worse, or leave you to suffer in the hopes that he won’t make anything worse than it already is. He sits on his thoughts for a moment, collecting them, before he reaches a consensus. He thinks of Maddie, and how upset he would have been if her neighbors had known what Doug was doing to her and had done nothing to help. 

He jumps from his bed then, not even bothering to put on a shirt or shoes, walking down the stairs when he hears your door slam shut. He picks up his pace, but stops when he gets to his door. He listens, making sure that when he leaves he isn’t going to come face to face with your monster of a boyfriend. 

When he is at least relatively positive the coast is clear, he opens his door, slowly and as quietly as possible. He looks up and down the hallway before walking out of his apartment and closing the door behind him. 

When he reaches your door, he grows quiet again, listening. All he can hear is the sound of you crying. His heart breaks and he knocks quietly on the door. 

Your crying stops, and he hears shuffling and objects moving before your footsteps make their way to the door. 

When you fall silent on the other side of the door he isn’t sure if you’ll open the door. Honestly, he isn’t sure what he’ll do if you do open the door to him. 

Another moment passes by and he begins to retreat back to his bed when he hears the handle turning. He anxiously rocks on the balls of his feet as you crack open the door just enough for him to see the gash on your forehead and your tear-stained cheeks. 

“Buck please, now is not the time. I messed up and didn’t make breakfast right. Now please, go back to bed. I need to have this cleaned up before he gets back.” You whisper quickly, harshly and you move to close the door but he stops it, putting his hand in-between it and the door frame. 

“Please,” he aims to plead with you now, “let me help you. I can help get you out of this.” 

You shake your head as he talks and he sees that you’ve started crying again. 

“You can’t, you can’t possibly help me. I created this, this is my fault.” You whisper as you look up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. 

He wants nothing more in the world than to throw open your door and pull you into his chest, shielding you from the world and protecting you from everything. 

“Please, (Y/N), I can help. I know people and-“ 

“No, no Buck, no one can know. He would lose his job and everything would be worse. Please, just leave me alone.” 

The fear and panic written across your face, or at least the parts of it he can see, cue him to drop his hands by his side. 

He stands in the hallway long after you’ve clicked the door to your apartment shut, the past minutes replaying in his head over and over. 

When he finally makes it back into his bed, sleep has eluded him. All he can see is the fear in your eyes and the only thing he can think about is the blinding rage that has overcome him. 

The Fifth Time

Buck had heard your boyfriend storm into your apartment just a few moments ago, knocking his train of thought completely off the rails. 

He’d been trying to figure out a way to tell the 118 that he was the new fire marshal, but he’d been sitting on his couch all afternoon, TV mumbling in the background, and he still had nothing. 

When he hears a loud thump from your apartment he shifts uncomfortably on his couch. 

He had talked to Chimney and Maddie a few days ago about you, not sure what else he could do and knowing that he couldn’t keep it to himself. 

Maddie had cried for you, begging Buck to introduce the two of you so she could try and be of some assistance, could maybe be the person she needed all those months ago. 

Buck tells her that you wouldn’t accept her help even if she got down on her knees and begged, and Maddie shakes her head. She understands, she’s been there. 

Chimney tells Buck he had felt uneasy when your boyfriend had walked into the station. 

“Yeah, try living next to him,” Buck responds to that and Chimney sighs. 

“That’s not helping right now Buck.” 

Buck asks Chimney if he noticed anything about you the day you came into the station, and he nods. 

“Yeah, she did a real good job of covering up that split lip but forgot about the purple bruise.” 

Buck nods this time, his suspicions having been confirmed. 

Maddie tells him he can’t call the cops and report their fighting, because it’ll only make things worse for you. As much as it pains him, Buck agrees. The last thing he wants to do is make things worse for you. 

“But, you could ask Athena to look into him, maybe he has something in his past that will make things easier for her to end it.” 

“Yeah but I don’t know his name. Neither of them have ever given it to me.” 

“Give Athena her name then, and see what she can dig up.” 

“Yeah, okay, that’s a good idea Maddie.” 

And he had given Athena your name, which had enabled her to find your boyfriend, and had also revealed a dead end. 

He didn’t have so much as a misdemeanor tainting his record, and neither did you. 

Another thump against the wall brings Buck out of his head and back into his apartment. 

There was truly nothing he could do, and even if, by some miracle, there was, he had a feeling you wouldn’t let him anyways. 

He turns up the TV, trying to focus on the news, deciding it’s best for the both of you if he just tunes you out. 

His heart pounds heavy against his chest, it’s not used to turning in the opposite direction when someone is in trouble. He has to ignore it, for now at least, until he can find another way to help before it’s too late. 

He stands then, shaking his head and making his way over to the fridge, grabbing a drink and opening it, starting to take a swig when he hears a scream. It’s blood curdling, and he wonders if any of his other neighbors hear it too. 

He sets his opened drink on the bar, moving to his door, opening it, and looking into the hallway. 

He doesn’t see anything, and he starts to think that his mind is just playing tricks on him now, replaying the past few times he’d heard you scream, mocking him. 

He goes to move and retrieve his drink, almost closing the door when he hears a loud sob and muffled scream. 

That’s it, he thinks. He doesn’t care that he might be making things worse, he’s getting you out of there. 

He storms over to your apartment, surprised that the door is unlocked. He opens it slowly and as quietly as possible, nervous as to what he may discover. 

Once he’s in, he sees an apartment that mirrors his. No personal touches, no decorations. The only thing he sees that even tells him someone lives there is your stack of papers, waiting to be graded, sitting on the kitchen table. 

He walks further into the apartment, over to the couch and still hasn’t found neither you nor your boyfriend. 

He hears shuffling upstairs and turns, making his way to the first step but stops when he hears labored breathing and soft crying. He looks up and his heart stops. 

You’re leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs, and you look like you’ve walked out of a horror movie. 

Your hands are covered in blood, and the right one holding you up is leaving angry red handprints on the white paint there. Your hair is loose and frizzy around your shoulders, and he sees the gash from last week has opened back up. 

You’re still in your work clothes, the honey yellow sweater and striped pants you wear ruined. You haven’t even taken your name tag off yet, and the picture of the smiling woman he sees there splits his heart in two. 

You’re still crying, taking shallow breaths and wobbling slightly on uneasy feet. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Are you covered in your blood? Your boyfriend’s? Should he run to you, or wait for you to move? 

His head is racing, each thought passing by him in a blur. 

“Buck?” You ask, looking at him in disbelief. He nods. 

“I’m- I’m sorry I had to. I had to.” You break down again and Buck throws caution to the wind, taking the steps two at a time to reach you. 

You won’t look at him, eyes overflowing with tears and staring at your red hands. 

He gently grabs your face, both of his large hands resting on either side of it and moving you to look up at him. 

“Hey listen, you have to tell me what happened. I can help you, if you want, but only if you tell me everything.” 

Your eyes are so clear as they search his face, and he can tell you’re trying to decide whether you should trust him or not. He thinks back then.\, to Maddie, finding her in the forest in a similar state. 

“I- I killed him, Buck.” You whisper finally, and Buck’s heart constricts. 

“Oh, oh god Buck I killed him!” You yell in realization and your knees give way, almost bringing you to the floor but Buck stops you before that happens. 

He sits down then, pulling you into his lap as you cling onto his shirt, red hands staining it. He holds your head to his chest and rests his chin on top of it. 

“Hey, I need to call 9-1-1 okay?” You nod, still sniffling into his chest. 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and types in the numbers, glancing over his shoulder to where you stepped out from. He sees him then, face first in the carpet, still bleeding out. A large kitchen knife has been thrown beside him and a trail of blood leads to where he now sits with you. 

He almost smiles at his luck when Maddie is the dispatcher on the other end of the phone, and he describes the situation to her. She dispatches Athena and the 118 to Buck’s location and they arrive on record time, Hen and Chimney making their way to you and your boyfriend. 

“Yeah he’s dead,” he hears Hen whisper to Chimney, who’s knelt beside where you and Buck sit. Buck moves you to sit up, and Chimney smiles warmly at you. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he starts, “I need to get a good look at you, okay?” 

You nod and try to stand up, but fall back into Buck’s lap, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Buck starts yelling your name and Chimney finds that you’d been stabbed in the leg and had been slowly bleeding. Buck curses at himself for not noticing it, and he hands you over to Hen and Chimney without hesitation. They work diligently to stop the bleeding until they can get you to the hospital. When they roll you out on the gurney Buck turns to Athena and Bobby, who watch him warily. 

“He was like that when I came in,” Buck states and Athena nods, making her way over to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“This hits a little too close to home, doesn’t it?” Buck is hesitant when he nods. Athena pats his shoulder. 

“Take care of yourself.” She warns and he can’t help but smile in agreement. 

“Buck.” Bobby calls his name and he makes his way over to the Captain. 

“Go change your clothes and head to the hospital. It’ll be good for her to see a familiar face when she wakes up.” 

Buck nods and thanks Bobby, who shakes his head and ushers him out of the door.

--- 

Buck is sat in a chair beside your bed when you come to, and you frantically scramble as you try to sit up, panic stricken. Buck leans over and grabs your hand, making you look in his direction. 

“You’re okay. You lost a lot of blood back there but you’re gonna be okay.” 

You search his eyes, probably to determine if he’s lying or telling you the truth, and when you slowly sink back into the pillows on the hospital bed Buck knows you’ve decided he was telling the truth. 

You look up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking for a moment before speaking. 

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” You ask in a whisper and Buck notes you squeezing his hand as you wait for his answer. 

“Yeah, he is.” He responds and he watches as you begin to cry. 

“Hey, hey,” Buck coos, moving his chair closer to you and leaning over the hospital bed. His right hand moves to cup your face as his left hand still grasps yours. 

You look at him, eyes bloodshot and face red from crying. 

“He can’t hurt you anymore, got that? You did what you had to do.” 

You nod, slowly, accepting his words.

“I know, I know it’s just-“ 

Buck nods. You don’t have to finish that sentence for him to know what you’re feeling. Even if he had been your abuser, you’d just ended someone’s life. 

“Hey,” he says, and you look at him again. 

“Thank you for letting me help.” 

You smile softly, this time your left hand moves to run your fingers across his cheek and he can’t help himself from leaning into your touch. 

“Thank you for asking. Thank you for asking more than once. I wish I had let you help sooner.” You add, and Buck shakes his head. 

“You were protecting yourself. All that matters now is that he’s gone, and you have my help for as long as you need it.”

[chromatic-lamina]

seaside and floaties one piece fanfic excerpt

Just feeling a bit anxious at the moment with real-life obligations, and posting some of my AO3 stuff relieves it a little. This is Marco/Law not swimming, but doing their best to stay in the water. Light humour. They’ve got a one-eyed, short-haired, stumpy, barrel-chested dog called Misery, and a bunch of thieves who steal wallets buried in the sand. 

Post-canon AU, but powers retained, and canon elements. SFW. 

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

You wouldn't think a one-eyed creature could swim so well."

"Anything swims better than us."

Marco wrapped an arm around Law's waist and drew him near. Law, arms crossed, turned his head Marco’s way for a beat. Steadied his footing. Looked back as Misery paddled out into the sea, picked up a stick thrown for her and swam back in. The salt water had to taste bad.

She loved the ocean. So did they of course, and they could stay afloat on top of it, in a vessel, or under it in a submarine, but they couldn't physically submerge themselves and let go and trust the water and currents to carry them from one point to the next. They'd drown.

She ran up to them, shaking droplets all over their hairy legs—board shorts were the order of the day, even if they only went in as far as their knees. Franky tried to convince them of the benefits of Speedos, but the two pirates were strangely modest. Plus, Robin might be lurking nearby and she had no mercy. Board shorts hid the fishing tackle a whole lot better.

They'd tether a floatie ring to the shore, or wear them themselves, tough guys be damned. The floaties looked particularly cute around Law's badassmotherfucker bicep tatts, and Marco never failed to snort as his lover inflated them and slid them along his muscled arms.

They were like city kids—fluent in the ways of back-alley streets, but pale and jelly-legged on sand or sea. Even if they'd spent their lives on it. On it. Under it. Not in it.

Law's gruff wheeze of a laugh joined Marco's. It didn't stop them.

Once, Law had chased down some bozos who'd taken off with their wallets, his wet boardies stuck to his thighs, yellow floaties (with Hearts' symbols) pumping up and down as he ran after them. Then he remembered his power and those kids never knew what hit them. Smoker had taken their statements and visited Law and Marco at home.

"Said a bunch of putzes..."

"Us?" Marco asked.

Smoker chomped on his cigar. That meant yes.

"Only two of us," the Phoenix added.

"Anyway, a galoot of galahs."

"Two, just two of us," Law corrected, "And the dog."

"I think they're using that word incorrectly," Marco murmured, turned his teacup. "Galoot. I think a galoot is a galah."

"Galoshes of galahs?" Law suggested.

"They're wellies. Wellington boots."

Marco looked at the window, all innocence, to avoid the devilment in Law's quick grin. He knew the Heart was imagining galoshes-wearing-galahs galooting in a downpour, like umbrella-twirling tap dancers.

Smoker glowered at them. "Some floatie-wearing hard-arse greenhorns dismembered them and dropped them on the foreshore."

"They lived to tell the tale?" Law asked, a tumbler mug of green tea in his hands disguising the curve of his lips. "They sound ghastly."

"Especially the floatie part." Marco bent under the table and scratched Misery's fur. She thumped her tail.

"The kids admitted they'd been trying to lift wallets."

"Do tell." Law and Marco had taken precautions and buried them in the sand while they paddled. Their possessions should have been safe. Who'd they think they were messing with?

"And so they're not pressing charges."

"Huh."

"But just be careful, Law, about separating people from their bodies."

"Is it illegal?" He thought stealing wallets also wasn't high on the list of judiciary approval.

Smoker knew if Law used his power, subjects wouldn't be hurt. "No, but it scares the fuck out of everyone."

There should be a law against it. Sent ripples of fear through the community. "If you two still wanna play pirates, do it on the wide open unchartered seas."

Recidivists. Not reformed in the slightest.

"Scares them even if we've got floaties on?" Law and Marco sent each other a glance, and had to look down at the table to stop a fit of unmanly giggles.

"We look pretty suburban." It pained Marco to say it, but it was true.

Smoker cracked a smile, quickly hidden by bitter coffee. One of the "victims" had taken a snap. Smoker almost expected the irate man bearing down upon them, yellow floaties prominent, to be wearing an Edwardian one-piece swimsuit, and to have a little jiggly beer belly.

"Well done," he growled, and ran his foot over Misery's hide, "Just how do you manage to threaten and protect while wearing floaties, of all the goddamned things?"

Marco looked at their tea-towel collection, at Law's tea-towel collection. Smoker really had to ask? "One of Trafalgar's many skills."

"We've got a rubber ring, Smo-ya. It's cute. Got daisies on it. Nami gave it to us."

Marco stood and walked to the kitchen. "Charged us, Law. We had to pay her for the pleasure." He brought back a mandarin each for all. Sat and peeled his, looked over to Smoker. "Sure, big guy. Next time you want to join us, just ask. You don't have to arrest a bunch of losers to impress us."

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

Law, earnestly leant forward on a Bepo-shaped pool float. Marco mixed the drinks at the poolside bar and Smoker rolled his cigars on the edge of an ashtray set up on his daisy-patterned float. Both fruit-users' stacked arms were encased in floaties. Smoker's bore the Marines' symbol.

Misery ran up and down the side of the pool, and it was Tashigi's job to fetch either one of them out of the water when they tumbled in. All it took was one point needing emphasis, one grown man leaning too far. There went the cigars, Law's do. Thank goodness for the floaties. And Tashigi.

Turning circles, Misery barked, and Marco for the life of him was sure she was laughing.

🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️🐶⛱🏊🏿‍♀️

This is again from a dark fic (most of the excerpts are), and is actually from a dark chapter, so I’ll just post what’s above, but a link to my AO3 is in the header of the blog. Hope it can be enjoyed without the full context of the story or verse. 

[romanceismycallingcard]

50 questions tag!

I got tagged by @bl-crossingtheline​! Hello darling! Sorry I’m so late on this. Needed a good block of time and then I just kept forgetting. 😜😂

Questions:

what color is your hairbrush? Aqua/Teal

name a food you never eat: Brussel sprouts. And fish.

are you typically too warm or too cold? Um... in winter I’m just perpetually cold. I prefer to be on the warmer side. But as I’ve gotten older that’s changed a little bit. But I don’t know if I’m like always cold or whatever.

what were you doing 45 minutes ago? lol eating fresh home made sour dough bread with my family.

what’s your favorite candy bar? 100 grand bars

have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes. a hockey game with my family and brothers’ hockey teams. 

what’s the last thing you said out loud?: My brother was leaving so I yelled BYEEEEE HAVE A NICE DAY from my room and he said NO~! YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! so then I said FINE IF YOU’RE FORCING ME TO. lol. That was one of our nicer interactions 😂

what’s your favorite ice cream?: anything with caramel or maybe moosetracks. Or just plain vanilla cuz it’s classic, yummy, and underappreciated.

what was the last thing you had to drink? milk

do you like your wallet?: Yes! I do! I found it years ago at a thrift store and it was just perfect for me. It’s black with a pretty metal thing with engraved flowers on it. It zips closed AND there’s a coin pouch inside. And it’s the kind that folds in half rather than the kind that looks like a clutch purse which I’m really glad about because the clutch purse shaped ones seem to almost never be quite the right size - either too big or too small and sometimes the latch breaks so then it just flops open. :P

what’s the last thing you ate? sour dough bread

did you buy any new clothes last weekend? um.... no. But i did this last Friday cuz I had to pick up some things from Walmart and I impulse bought a $10 dress that looked comfy and light weight and casual and I can wear it on days when I don’t want to wear pants. I didn’t have a good dress for days like that before.

what’s the last sporting event you watched? uh...... i don’t. Unless my friend showing me a two minute compilation clip of the danish (i think?) sport of jumping over rivers with a pole counts. or unless watching super junior perform counts. 

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? butter + salt or white cheddar

who’s the last person you sent a text to? real texting it was a mom I babysit for. But more recently than that I was messaging blue (musicdramalove) on tumblr.

ever go camping? my family used to go camping a lot - like at least once a year. But we haven’t for several years now since all my siblings and I are adults now. I think I might’ve gone with friends a couple years ago though. idk.

do you take vitamins? nope. If I get sick, I drink a looooooot of orange juice.

do you go to church every sunday? yeah

do you have a tan? not right now. hopefully I will by the end of summer (if not June)

do you prefer chinese or pizza? chinese (but pizza’s good too)

do you drink soda through a straw? not unless I order it at a restaurant and it’s in a glass. But that’s rare. I usually order water or sometimes a cocktail.

what color socks do you usually wear? I have a set that’s cream, a couple greys, and white, and I have a set that’s cream, grey and light pink.

do you ever drive above the speed limit? heck yeah. Usually I keep it to about 5-10 above. But it also depends on what streets I’m on.

what terrifies you? Failing at working a career job or living a miserable life or being alone forever with no one to take care of me when I’m sick.

look to your left, what do you see? my purse on the floor next to my dresser

what chore do you hate the most? scrubbing my shower/bathtub.

what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? steve the animal guy or liam and chris hemsworth or KJ Apa or Rebel Wilson. Or the other day when I was talking to my nanny kiddos about accents and the girl and I could do decent-ish british accents but absolutely failed at an Aussie accent

what’s your favorite soda? root beer

do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru? depends on the day or sometimes the line of cars in the drive thru

what’s your favorite number? 4. idky but I’ve always thought of it as my lucky number. Plus I just like it. It’s even. It’s small. 2 + 2 = 4 and 2 x 2 = 4.

who’s the last person you talked to? my brother when I was yelling bye to him.

favorite cut of beef? yeah i really don’t know or care

last song you listened to? We by Yesung

last book you read? honestly can’t even tell you.

can you say the alphabet backwards? YES I CAN AND I’M VERY PROUD ABOUT THIS

favorite day of the week? mmm..... saturday because I usually see my friends on saturday and also refuse to do homework on saturdays.

how do you like your coffee? with a big scoop of hot chocolate powder and quite a bit of half and half. sometimes I forego the chocolate powder but my preference is to have it. 

favorite pair of shoes? oooh..... I love my shoes. I have so many that I like. um... okay I’m gonna say it’s this one pair of brown heels I have. They look kinda like leather, orangey-brown, 4in tall heel, and they’re almost like ankle boots because the material goes to just below my ankle. They look amazing with skinny jeans.

time you normally get up? mm..... somewhere between 8 and 9 I guess if I wake up naturally. But I have to get up at 6:15 for work and 7am on days when I have church bc I’m head of nursery (but church is at 10am and online cuz quarantine)

sunrise or sunsets? hm.... I guess sunset bc it sets behind the mountains and it’s gorgeous.

how many blankets on your bed? rn 1 really light one cuz summer’s basically here.

describe your kitchen plates? white with a red and grey design on them with a red border on the edge

describe your kitchen at the moment? currently a mess bc things are being moved around and sorted and everything is everywhere. Other than that, it’s got a sink, fridge, oven, dishwasher, you know, the uszh. 

do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? mm.... right now I guess my go to is a moscato wine. I think that’s my favorite thing right now. You can call me a wimp but hey it’s a step up from Mike’s hard mango punch. I also really like mules.

do you play cards? yes.

what color is your car? silver. and it annoys me bc it looks like every other unimpressionable unremarkable unmemorable car out there :p

can you change a tire? .............................................no.

your favorite state/province/county/etc.? MINE

favorite job you’ve had? my babysitting job for a neighborhood family. I’ve been babysitting them for about 7 years now and I have been with them for two of their kids’ births and I’ve gotten to watch them grow up and develop personalities and learn about life and it has been such a fun experience and blessing to me.

how did you get your biggest scar? okay so I don’t know about biggest, but the one that I’ve probably had the longest and is still clearly visible is one that’s on my foot. It’s about a cm long and is about an inch or so in from the base of my second toe on my right foot. I got it when I was... I think a sophomore in high school when my family visited my bro and sis-in-law out of state for Thanksgiving. I went to grab a bottle of sparkling apple cider out of the fridge but, in the process of grabbing it or moving something aside or something, the bottle of sparkling cider fell out of the fridge onto the tile floor right next to my foot and SHATTERED. I was frozen in shock. Didn’t know what to do. Felt embarrassed and felt bad about the broken bottle and mess. I didn’t even realize until my mom and sis-in-law were cleaning up the floor around me that there was a small shard of glass somewhat embedded in my foot. I don’t remember feeling any pain from it. I think I was probably still in shock. But I still have the scar. 

Tagging: I don’t really know and I’m tired so ANYONE WHO WANTS TO 😊

[gimmeyoon]

Drink About [1]

       ↳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Jin

       ↳ Setting: College AU

       ↳ Word Count: 4.3k

       ↳ Warnings: mentions of binge drinking, language

       ↳ Songs: Waste It One Me by Steve Aoki ft. BTS and Hands by the Vamps

       ❝you just wanted to get drunk and dance and now he’s all you think about❞

| Next

    There’s nothing quite as humbling as vomiting in a fraternity bathroom with two people getting it on in the stall next to you.

    Sana hits at the stall wall as if that will stop the wild animals from doing exactly what they came here to do. Joy tries to sooth you as she pulls your hair out of your face, but she’s so drunk and it’s clear she wishes she was anywhere else at this point. You have to agree with her on that.

    If your life was a cheesy teen romantic comedy, a record would scratch and an older, wiser version of yourself would say, ‘I’m sure you’re wondering how I wound up in this mess.” Though, you figure no one would stay to watch a movie that starts this utterly disgusting. The prop department could have at least mopped the floor before letting your bare ass sit on tiles hopefully made sticky by spilt alcohol, though the moment of sobriety that comes as one is barfing up their brains tells you that’s only one of the residues at best. You suppose the fashion department wouldn’t have let you walk on set without underwear under your dress the way that Joy and Sana had.

    “Honestly, _____, fuck him,” Sana says, abandoning her attempt to stop the actual fucking happening right next to you. “If he’s already with Chaeyoung, then he’s an even bigger fuckboy than any of us thought, and we do not cry over fuckboys.”

    You wonder if you’re supposed to respond as you dry heave next to your friend, but figure Sana will understand. She does have a point though, your makeup is absolutely ruined at this point, which is more than he deserves.

    It’s a process. Sitting in front of your mirror on a Friday night, you carefully beat your face to the gods in preparation for your favorite part of the week. It’s the same every time, the plans slightly different, but the process the same. Your shift at the gym’s reception desk ends at 5:00 and you head back to your apartment where you become slightly jealous at the sight of Joy napping on the couch and head back to your room. You stare at your closest until you figure out which of your outfits sparks joy, Marie Kondo style, and then you grab your tools. You turn on one of your favorite beauty guru’s videos and then the craft begins.

    Joy never misses a chance to tease you about the pure time commitment this process is, but you haven’t been late to a pregame yet.

    Now in your second year of college, you can say without a doubt that this process is the highlight of your week. Sure, occasionally something happens that outshines it, but it’s a constant. You have three hours secured to yourself where it’s just you and tasks that at the end of the day mean very little, but when finished, you have something to show for yourself. It’s about the only productive thing you allow on Friday night.

    You surprise your friends back home with how often you go out, but you promised yourself after a failing your first class Freshmen year due to the sheer amount of time you spent with your friends that you would focus completely on school work during the week and that on the weekend you would let yourself be free and unstructured. Joy and Sana knew better than anyone how hard it was to get you to deviate from your color-coded planner for even the tiniest thing. They liked to joke that if they didn’t schedule getting fries at McDonald’s with you three weeks in advance, there wouldn’t be an opening. They weren’t that far off.

    The weekend was different. It was the only time you let yourself give into the part of your soul that screamed to live life on the edge.

    That was how you had ended up at Beta Tau Sigma months ago with Joy and Sana by your side. You were standing in the kitchen talking to the one member of the fraternity that Joy knew when you saw him for the first time.  

    Well, for the first time in person. You had followed Jungkook on Instagram after one of your friends had tagged him in their photo. He had followed back, and you could always count on a like from him on your posts.

    You grabbed Joy’s arm when you saw him, drawing everyone’s attention towards yourself and the deer in headlights look you could only imagine was on your face.

    “What,” Hoseok asked as he followed your gaze. “You look like you saw a ghost. Do I need to kick some asshole out?”

    “No, sorry. I-I thought I saw someone, but I was wrong.”

    “You sure? Taehyung’s too nice, he’ll just let anyone in.”

    You smiled as you released your grip on Joy’s arm. “Seriously, it was nothing. I think I just need a drink.”

    Hoseok nodded and motioned upstairs. “We keep the good stuff upstairs, and since Joy is the only reason I’m going to pass the human machine, you guys are welcome to it. Consider it my penance.”

    “Oh, so you know penance, but an introductory biology class is too much?” Joy teased as you followed Hoseok.

    “My dad’s a literature professor so he used big words at dinner and made us figure them out. I learned penance when I hid my sister’s laptop in the attic.” Hoseok leads you into the first room on the right and pulls back a curtain to reveal a fully stocked bar. “Jimin’s really into mixology and also showing off his money. So, help yourself,” he said with a dramatic bow.

    “Hoseok, when I say you’re my hero, I want you to really hear me,” you said. “You are my hero and two shots from now, I will tell you that repeatedly.”

    “She’s a very nice drunk,” Sana confirms as she pulls a bottle of tequila from the bar. She pours four shots from the bottle and after those have been forced down, she pours another four.

     That’s how you find the courage to move onto the dance floor, an act that normally doesn’t require much liquid confidence. It’s also an act that doesn’t usually include being as close to Jungkook as it currently has you.

     “Joy,” you start with a giggle. “How many times do I have to look at Jeon Jungkook for him to get the message that I want to put my ass on his dick and pose on that shit?”

     “Firstly, if you ever quote a New Boyz song in presence again, you will be excommunicated from our apartment. Secondly, I think it’s going to take more than a look to communicate all of that.”

    “Not if I have very expressive eyes,” you say with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

    “If you do that, he’ll file a restraining order with the college,” Joy laughs.

    “Joy,” you whine.

    “_____,��� she teases. “Seriously, you are a 21st century woman, just tell that boy that you want to dance.”

    “If he says no, I can never show my face here again, you know that, right?”

    “We’ll throw the whole fraternity away if we have to, babe.”

    You decide that a sensible person would at least wait for the song to change before making their move, so three songs later you turn to acquire your target. He’s standing with one of his friends, Jimin you think, and you hate how good he looks. He’s in all black, like he usually is, but the dance room is so hot that his normally straight hair now frames his face in waves. You push back the thought that this is what his hair would look like after sex and make your way across the floor. He’s just a boy, you remind yourself the closer you get. Then you’re there, and you realize you probably should have practiced what you were going to say to him during the previous three songs. And now as Usher guides your movements, it’s too late.

    He looks over as you approach and he offers you a smile, which you know is meant to be inviting, but he looks so damn good that it makes your arms break out in goosebumps.

    “Hi,” you manage with a smile.

    “Hi.”

    You think you might let the silence fall for a beat too long, because Jungkook’s friend that may or may not be named Jimin has the time to look between the two of you before you continue.

    “I follow you on Instagram,” is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and you can feel your ears visibly redden once you realize how stupid that sounds.

     He laughs and you pray to whatever god might be listening that he wasn’t laughing at you.

     “I follow you too,” he says.

     “Thanks for that,” you cringe. It’s silent again for a beat too long, but then you think some god must have been listening, because his friend becomes your second hero of the night.

     “He’d love to dance with you,” Maybe Jimin says as he pushes Jungkook in your direction, and that’s exactly the intervention you need to reach out for his hand.

      You pull Jungkook through the crowd of people and begin to dance with him as soon as you find a spot that doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic. You think for a second how ironic it is to find an open space when you place your hips flush with his and begin to dance to whatever overplayed song the fraternity brother playing DJ has chosen.

      He’s a better dancer than you would have guessed, his hips moving heavenly with the music, and the way he hardens beneath you helps heighten the confidence the alcohol gave you. His body is strong behind yours, and for a moment you wish you hadn’t had so much to drink because then you might have invited him back to your place to see what his body felt like on top of yours.

    It’s four songs later when the sound of his name breaks your heart.

    “Jeon!” Someone yells, from across the room, causing Jungkook to pull away from you and search for his friend. He must find him when he grabs your hand and pulls you with him. The culprit is smiling as you meet him and motions for you to follow him. “We need two more for beer pong and it’s time for you to put your money where your mouth is.”

    Jungkook looks back at you, “Do you want to play?”

    Considering your options appear to be leaving Jungkook to writhe around in the dance room with some other people that you are absolutely no longer interested in or play a drinking game with Jungkook and potentially speak to him about something other than the fact that you follow him on Instagram, you do not hesitate to say yes.

    You find out two things about Jungkook very quickly. Firstly, he is very good at beer pong and secondly, he is very competitive, which the first thing helps.

    “Taehyung is going to regret asking us to play,” Jungkook smiles as he hands you a ping pong ball.

    “Less trash talking, and more playing, yeah?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow.

     “Don’t rush my partner, yeah?” Jungkook copies Taehyung’s stature, and you can’t help but laugh at how theatrical he is.

     “Patience is a virtue, young Taehyung,” you say as you aim for a red solo cup.

     The ball lands in the drink with a satisfying slosh and Jungkook high-fives your success. It’s five more games of this and then your stomach betrays you. No longer are you focused on winning. No, now you are focused on feeding whatever beast entered your system with the alcohol.

     “Jungkook,” you start. “How do you feel about shenanigans?”

     His head tilts to the side as he looks at you. “Shenanigans?”

     “Do you trust me?”

     He smiles and nods his head. “Lead the way, Captain,” he says with a salute.

     Your fingers intertwine with his as you lead him out of the fraternity house and onto the streets.

     “Shenanigans,” you say turning around to look at him, continuing to walk backwards, “are what happens after the party. Anything can be a shenanigan if you really set your mind to it.”

     “And what does tonight have in store for us,” he asks.

     “Well, Jungkook, I hope you’re hungry. Because it’s waffle time.”

     “Lucky for you,” he laughs. “I’m always hungry.”

     You laugh as well as you turn in a circle. When you stop your whirling, you find Jungkook’s arms braced, clearly ready to catch you.

     “You’re going to fall, drunkie.”

     “Please call me by my government name, Drunkard Joseph Montgomery Alabama the third.”

     “Wow, that is a name.”

     “Thank you, it was my father’s and his father’s before him.”

     “Thus, the third.”

     “Thus, the third,” You laugh.

     The fluorescent lights of your local Waffle House should make Jungkook look slightly worse for wear as you know they are doing to you and as they do to most humans, but clearly Jungkook is not like the rest of the mere mortals that roam this Earth, because you swear to god his eyes sparkle as he looks at the plastic menu before him. He keeps switching between the breakfast and the lunch/dinner side of the menu, mumbling under his breath that his not sure which he’s in the mood for at the moment.

    You do not face the same problem, as you order the All-Star breakfast every time. There has never been a moment where you have sat in these yellow booths and not wanted waffles. You figure if the establishment is named after a specific food, you should probably order that food, and you’re just about to tell Jungkook as much when he sets his menu down and looks up at you.

    “I have decided,” he said, his tone serious.

    “Do tell.”

    “Burger,” he smiled.

    “Wrong.”

    His face falls at this. “Wrong?”

    “We’re at Waffle House, the only right answer is waffles.”

    “Wrong,” he responds, copying your tone from before. “They sell more than just waffles; therefore, you are meant to order things other than waffles as well.”

     “Okay, IHOB.”

     “What did you just call me?” he asks, his face breaking into a large smile.

     “IHOB, as in the International House of Burgers,” you stick your tongue out, which earns a laugh from your companion. “When in Rome, order waffles.”

     “I don’t think that’s the saying,”

     “I don’t think this is a burger establishment.”

     The waitress approaches your booth at this moment, and Jungkook quickly places his burger order, sticking his tongue out at you as she writes his burger on the ticket.

     “And since I’m a responsible adult, I’ll be having the All-Star breakfast,” you said when it was your turn to order.

    The waitress nods as she writes down your order, “Bacon, sausage, or ham.”

    “Sausage, please.”

    “Wrong,” Jungkook responds as the waitress walks away. “The only valid choice when bacon is an option is bacon.”

    “Oh, grow up,” you roll your eyes. “Sausage is a valid option.”

    He shakes his head, “Only when bacon isn’t available.”

    “Pretty bold talk from a guy who might be asking me to choose his sausage later.”

     He reddens at this, his eyes widening, but never leaving your face. The words were out of your mouth before you could think better, and you’re pretty sure the only reason you don’t get up and leave is because you’re still pretty drunk.

     Jungkook shakes his head, as a smile spreads across his face. “I don’t think any bacon will be present at that moment, so sausage would be a valid choice.”

     You can’t help but laugh at this, and Jungkook joins you. You talk about school after you calm down, and you’ve started to talk about your hometowns by the time the waitress brings your meals. You both shake your heads at the other’s order, causing the laughter to return, and it takes a few moments before you can actually begin to eat.

     You’re almost finished with your waffle, when you realize everyone else in the restaurant is focused on the staff behind the counter. Jungkook is telling you a story about his older brother, but you can’t focus as you try and figure out what has everyone’s attention. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’re drunk, or the fact that talking to Jungkook comes so naturally, but you’ve completely missed the altercation brewing between the staff. Their voices get louder with each word, and before it can get any worse, you take money out of your wallet, quickly making sure that it is enough to cover both meals plus the tip and stand up. You reach for Jungkook’s hand, while he stares up at you dumbfounded, and you make your way for the door. You’re just about to make it out, when one of the employees finally makes contact with the other. You freeze at the action, and stand stunned, not sure if you’re waiting to see if he’s okay or if anyone will do anything to stop it. The next thing you know, the punched employee, is grabbing the other by the shirt and throwing him against the counter.

    Jungkook takes action at this, pulling you out the door with him and through the parking lot. You turn to look at Jungkook with wide eyes, not sure how your shenanigan ended up quite like this.

    “Holy shit,” he breathes, as he rakes a hand through his hair. “I guess that’s Waffle House at 2:00 a.m. for you.”

    You can’t help but laugh at this, though you feel a bit of guilt considering how awful the situation is. Jungkook smiles at this and for that alone you’re glad that you laughed.

    “Come on,” you say, as you look at your surroundings. “There’s a river around here, I want to show you.”

    Jungkook follows, not having dropped your hand yet, and you walk like this in the direction of the park you like to go to sometimes. It’s pitch-black as you near the location, which causes you to grip Jungkook’s hand a bit tighter than before. If he’s as nervous as you, he doesn’t let on, but he does pull his phone from his pocket and turn his flashlight on, which you are thankful for. Your pace quickens after this, the excitement of showing Jungkook the river driving you forward, and when you arrive, you drop his hand before skipping towards the bank.

    You turn around to face him, positively beaming as you stretch your arms as if to say here it is, the grand finale, and Jungkook matches your wide smile. He walks towards you, as you bend down to take your shoes off. When you look back up, he’s looking at you with confusion on his face.

    “Well, I’m not going to wear my shoes into the water,” you answered.

    “We’re going in the water?”

    “Shenanigans, Jungkook. They’re not done yet,” you said, as you turned around and made your way into the river. The silence of the night is inviting, and you find yourself closing your eyes and leaning your head back in relaxation. You hear Jungkook wade in behind you, and you only open your eyes when his movement stops.

    He’s looking at you and he smiles when your eyes meet his. “How did you find this place?”

    “I used to babysit these kids freshmen year, and their mom took them to this park.”

    “I haven’t really left campus that much,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’d be nice to run here though.”

    You nod in agreement, turning to look up at the few stars above. Jungkook reaches for your hand in the dark, and you reach back, feeling comforted by his presence here. You think for a moment that it’s nice that you two can just stand here in the silence like this, and you’re about to say something to that effect, when suddenly Jungkook sends a wave of water hurtling towards you. You’re shocked when you look down to see him crouched, ready to splash you again.

    “Shenanigans,” he says, simply, as he launches another attack on you.

    This time you’re prepared, and you block your face, though it does very little to help. Quickly, you’re crouching as well, not one to go down without a fight, and soon both of you are soaking wet and breathless. Jungkook’s hair hangs heavy around his face, water dripping from his black locks onto his cheeks, and you hate to even think about the state that your makeup is in now.

    The smirk on Jungkook’s face, tells you all you need to know, and you shake your head in response. “I look like a monster, right?”

    “You could convincingly be cast in a horror movie.”

     You give him the middle finger at this, before trudging back to land. You’re about halfway back, when you hear Jungkook running after you, and as you turn around to see what he is doing, he’s wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up.

     “Jeon Jungkook!” you scream, as you pound at his back. “Put me down.”

     He only laughs in response, carrying you the rest of the way to the shore. He finally complies with your demand, placing you underneath a tree. He sits down, and when you don’t immediately follow, he pats the space beside him, looking up at you with big eyes.

    You chuckle as you join him at the base of the tree, and he smiles triumphantly.

    “Maybe it’s too soon to call, but I think I might be better at shenanigans than you.”

    You scoff. “You made me look like the grudge. That is foul play and not allowed during a night of shenanigans.”

    “Oh, excuse me. I was under the impression that there was only one rule and that was to have fun.”

    “I am not having fun.”

    “You’re not?” he frowns. “I don’t know, seemed like you were having fun.”

    “Nope, not anymore. I spent too much time and money on this makeup to consider this fun.”

    “What a shame,” he smiles. “I kind of like this look.”

    “Really?” you deadpan.

    “Yeah, it says ‘just know that if you ever break up with me, I will murder your ass.’”

    “Oh, good. That’s the energy I want to be putting out into the world.”

    Jungkook laughs. “You’re very welcome for helping you achieve your truest form.”

    You’re silent for a beat after this, both of you smiling widely at each other, and you think that you are in no rush to get home. You think that he may lean in and kiss you, because he keeps looking down at your lips, and he moves slightly forward, but his eyes completely leave yours, and he’s reaching for something on the ground instead.

    You’re about to stand up and leave, your new found sobriety horrified that you might have just embarrassed yourself, but then Jungkook is looking at you again and smiling.

   “A geode,” he said, bring a rock between the two of you. “My dad and I used to collect this when I was little.”

   You nod your head, not sure what to say because your brain just keeps screaming about how much of an idiot you are but also how cute he is, and it’s too much for you to come up with a reasonable response.

    “For you,” he smiles widely, as he reaches for your hand and places the rock into it. “Never forget our shenanigans.”

     “Never,” you agree, bringing the hand holding the rock to your heart.

      He beams at this and then stands up. “We should probably try and get home before the sun rises.”

     You nod your head, though you don’t agree. You would stay out here until the sun set again if you got to keep talking to Jungkook.  You begin the walk back to campus, showing Jungkook a shortcut you had found a few months ago, and when Jungkook should veer off to head back to his fraternity house, he keeps going straight with you. You try to fight the blush that creeps up your neck as you realize this.

    He’s talking animatedly about something Taehyung did a few weekends ago when you finally make it to your apartment. He seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he’s smiling and staying firmly on his side of the hallway.

   “Thanks for walking me back,” you said finally.

   “Of course,” he nods. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

    You nod your head as well, a bit disappointed that yet again he isn’t attempting to kiss you, and you think for a moment that maybe this meant way more to you than it did to him.

   “Tight,” he said. “Then I better get going. Goodnight, _____.”

   “Goodnight, Jungkook.” You watched as he walked down the hallway towards the exit, and once he was out of sight you unlock the front door and make you way inside.

     You sigh as you kick off your shoes and make your way further into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re taking your first sip when there’s a knock at the door. You check quickly to see who it is, and your heart races as familiar doe eyes stare back at you. Goosebumps cover your arms as you open the door.

   “Sorry, I just-” he nervously rubs at the back of his neck. “I forgot something,” he said, as he closed the distance between the two of you and pulled you into a kiss. Your damp clothes rub awkwardly against your body, and Jungkook’s burger breath catches you more off guard than the kiss itself, yet still you melt in his arms, and you think this is the kind of thing people write songs about.

    And when he’s pulling away, you think you want to capture the way he looks at you in a photo and look at it all day long.

    “Goodnight again, _____.”

© gimmeyoon — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or translation onto other sites even with proper credit given is not permitted.

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 12

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7 ; Chap 8 ; Chap 9 ; Chap 10 ; Chap 11

Masterlist : here

AN : Hello ! In this (longer) chapter, you get to sketch and paint Jake, but both fail to really focus on your work... and things get messy. Also features awkward moments, silliness, unspoken words, and a slight bit of angst. As always, I hope you like it, feel free to share your thoughts and/or criticism, thanks for reading me ! (Also, another AN at the end)

Chapter 12 : Would you model for me ?

Around 1 pm Mandy took off, saying she had to go downtown to buy some fabric, taking a reluctant Josh with her with the excuse that he'll help her carry everything. Everything froze when she winked at me before closing the door, letting me alone with Jake. Just sitting together at the table felt awkward, but I was afraid my heart was gonna leap from my lips if I opened my mouth to say something. Jake got rid of his ponytail, helping me putting the dishes in the sink before clapping his hands together.

- Should we start ?

Nervousness began slowly fading away as minutes passed. Quietly, he sat on the chair, legs crossed and hands resting on his lap, intently watching my every move as I was preparing my easel, turning the vises to adjust it to my height. Definitely curious about the whole thing, Jake popped from behind it, handling me my worn out pencils.

- Isn't one enough ?

I couldn't help but smile at this.

- They don't all have the same lead.

Jake frowned ever so slightly and I instinctively took his hand in mine while he let me.

- Look, I said as I traced a noticeable line on his skin. This pencil has a B lead, which means it's kinda greasy contrary to the H leads, that's why it left a mark. See, I explained while tracing another line on his hand with another pencil, this is a 6B, the higher the number, the greasier the lead. For H leads it's the other way around, feel how this one is hard and dry ? We use H leads to sketch and B leads to draw details.

It suddenly came to me that I was rambling and a rush of embarrassment came over me as I let go of his hand, apologizing.

- Don't be sorry, I learned something. And it's really cool seeing you so passionate.

Jake smiled and our eyes met, making me aware of how close he was. Reporting my attention to the pencils and faking being busy, I circled him to open my laptop.

- Since you won't be able to move I'll at least let you choose the music.

I heard his laugh behind my back and let him tap something into the search bar. Soon, the sound of a guitar blared through the speakers as he bopped his head playfully, enjoying his pick. Jake took his seat, placing his hair behind his shoulders and ears and looking straight in front of him, in my direction, dead serious like I was about to take his mugshot. He didn't seem awkward nor stressed at all, taking this way more seriously than his brother did. Standing up from my spot, I came to him in order to place him the way I needed him to be.

- I already have this angle, I mumbled as he let me put my hands on his jaw to lightly turn his face to the left. Let's try this one, please raise your chin and look in my direction.

He didn't answer nor moved, just kept his pose as I started quickly sketching, trying not to think of how powerful he looked. Face halfway turned to the side, chin raised proudly, head lightly titled backwards, a rebel strand of hair resting on his cheek while he looked down at me, unimpressed. He was a really good model, standing still with patience and understanding fast what I wanted and how he needed to pose. I let him took breaks between every portraits, telling him earlier that he could move while I kept drawing the small details on his face that I had left unpolished, so he could rest longer. Jake was feeling at home, and doing so. By the time I finished the last pencil portrait, he found his way to the kitchen, bringing us two beers that he took from the fridge, opening mine for me and placing it at my feet where it wasn't risky to stain any piece of work. Sipping his, he stayed behind me, incredibly stressing me out just by staring at my hand put some more shading on the paper version of himself.

- Damn you're talented, he exclaimed next to my shoulder. Do I really look this good ?

His face got just next to mine, between the portrait and me, and I rolled my eyes playfully to hide my bashfulness. He was too close, too close and too pretty, and too in a relationship.

- Fishing for compliments, Kiszka ? Aren't your ego fed enough with these ?

Ignoring him to report my attention to the canvas didn't cut it because Jake faked having a heart attack and let himself fall on Mandy's bed. Finishing the last details, I took a look at my work, pleased with myself. This day had be great, work wise. Some days your hand just refuse to obey, and others it's the exact oppositive, you feel like you have the power to draw anything that crosses your mind. Jake being the model might have helped with that, because it was fairly obvious (at least to me) that his portraits were the best of the series. There was something to them, they seemed to stand out, to glow while the others looked dull in comparision. And I feared my classmates were going to notice it. Clueless as he was, there was no chance Jake will, though.

- Come on, we still have one to do and I'll set you free.

The December sun had already declined a while ago but even if the day was still young I wanted us both to have a free evening, I couldn't monopolize all of his spare time. Behind me, the brunette still lied unmoving on the bed, playing dead. I couldn't help a smile from tugging at the corners of my lips while I rolled my eyes at the sight, gently pushing his foot with mine.

- C'mon Jake, let's go.

He didn't move, body lying on his side, face buried in the covers.

- Jake ?, I called softly.

Did he fell asleep ? I took a step forward to see but could only notice his chest rising peacefully. Was he that tired ? Should I wake him up or let him nap for an hour ? My hand slithered to his knee, pushing it gingerly, but he kept still. He couldn't sleep here, I didn't know when Mandy would come back, and his sleep schedule might get messed up if he slept too much at once. So I knelt on the mattress slowly, sinking on it as it took in my weight. My fingers wrapped around his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze.

- Jake.

Out of the blue, the boy jumped, grabbing my hand and screaming at me, making my heart pang with panic. That jerk burst into laughter, proud of his joke while my brain was barely figuring out what just happened. When it did, Jake was rolling on his back with a hand holding his belly, letting me slap his arms repeatedly while I showered him with insults for scaring me, completely unabashed and unbothered. When he finally had calmed down, he grabbed my wrist, starting a battle between us where I tried to make him let go of me, struggling to get my arm back, but it wasn’t difficult for him to handle me. Swiftly, he took my other wrist in his free arm and sat on the bed, capturing my waist and lifting me like I was as light as a feather. Ignoring my complaints and yelling in his ear, he placed me on his shoulder before dropping me unceremoniously on the mattress, making it dangerously bend under both of our weights. Both giggling like madmen, I continued trying to escape his hold but it was all too easy for him to block my legs with his when I kicked, and secure both of my wrists in his hand, making it impossible for me to move.

- Okay, I forfeit ! How can you even do that ?

- I did some wrestling in highschool.

Jake's proud smile nearly reached his ears, cheeks flushed and hair completely disheleved. It instantly calmed me down, replacing my laugh by the infamous fast tempo of my heart beating hard against my chest. My smile slowly began to fade away, nervousness taking its place, a tension I didn't know was there making itself way too present now, filling the heavy and warm air between the two of us. Jake seemed to have noticed too, because he lost his smile. For several seconds we just looked at each other in the eye, exchanging out of breath pants and unsure stares. My legs were still locked around his, and my wrists deeply burried in the pillow above my head where his hand kept them in place. The intimate proximity of his wrestling hold kept us close, connecting his pelvis to mine, the realization sending a pleasant wave of heat through my loins, butterflies fluttering their way in my stomach, making me shiver. It seemed to last forever, and yet it was over in an instant. I felt my hands being released slowly and the next thing I knew he was on his feet, back turned to me, straightening his locks. What the fuck had just happened, my brain kept repeating while I imitated him, mouth suddenly dry.

- Should we do the last one ?, Jake offered.

He was back at his seat, and his bright tone, whether it was forced or not, made me feel less awkward for a moment. It didn't last, though. As I stood behind the canvas with my brushes in hand, the intense staring was unavoidable. He had to look my way, so I had no choice but to endure it, trying to be as quick as possible while painting his eyes to avert being more awkward than I already was. I didn't know what he was thinking about, but his eyes were glaring holes through me, making my fingers shake as I tried to concentrate on the purple lines I was tracing, gulping down my beer to give me some confidence. These hours were probably the longest of my life, as painting Jake's face let plenty of time to my mind to run wild and ask a hundred of questions. The music didn't help at all either, the playlist Jake had chosen reaching its end in the middle of our session, abandonning us to the unwelcoming arms of silence. I was growing more uncomfortable as time passed, and Jake whose job was just to motionlessly look at me must without a doubt have noticed the way my face fell.

- Can I ask you a question ?

- Yeah, of course, you can talk I finished your mouth, I replied without looking up.

- Are you and Josh an item or something ?

His voice seemed to echo in the deafening silence of the room. It actually made me put down my brushes, body stiffening, standing still. Did I hear that well ? My head raised up from behind the easle, studying Jake's features for any sign of a joke. What really put me in a panic state was that he was dead serious.

- I'm sorry ?, was all I managed to say.

Boy oh boy did I needed another beer. Jake looked downright awkward now, shifting uncomfortably on his chair and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jean's.

- Are you like, y'know... dating ? Maybe it's not my place to ask, he added quickly, but I always see you guys together these days and you barely answer my texts anymore so I figured-

- We're not.

Me cutting him abruptly took him aback but he closed his mouth and nodded, taking that as his clue to not pursue this conversation. Jake looked apologetic now and I sighed through my nose, putting down my brushes once again.

- I like Josh, I said sincerely. Like a brother. And I know he feels the same.

There was absolutely no doubt about it, I could feel it. And even if I was wrong, if Josh was interested he would've made his move a long time ago, the boy had plenty of occasions, starting with the first time he crashed in our dorm when we were drunk. Now that I was thinking about it, I was relieved he didn't see Mandy and I as more than friends, and even so thankful that he was this kind and safe boy because inviting someone to sleep over after drinking had not been my smartest idea. Josh may have looked soft and cute, but he was still a man, not a child.

- Sorry I was being nosy.

- It's alright, I see where you're coming from.

And I meant it. In retrospect, Jake had reasons to misunderstand. With the whole « he's taken » situation I started spending more time with Josh and less with him, without him knowing why and just seeing the visible tip of the iceberg. It was no wonder he jumped to that conclusion, Josh was a very touchy-feely boy and it was so easy to give in and mimic his behavior, showing our affection towards each other with gestures on a daily basis. And his flirty self didn't seem to be that popular with the ladies with the exception of Mandy and I who found him and his pickup lines hilarious. Add to the mix the whole situation with Jake's girlfriend and Josh's protective attitude and you'll had the perfect misunderstanding. Briefly, I wondered if any other people saw us like that. Sam and Danny for example, or just students we passed by on the halls while being obnoxiously loud.

- It's cool you two get along so much.

I didn't know what to respond to that except a confused affirmative sound. Now was it just me or was Jake beating around the bush ?

- Okay, we're done, you can come take a look at yourself.

The brunette jumped to his feet, taking a few long steps to stand by my side, admiring my work with a shocked yet delighted expression on his face. And while he studied the painting, I studied him, his happy expression making me smile from ear to ear, eyes unable to look away from his face, like they didn't have enough doing so for the whole afternoon. Jake was excitedly pointing to small details, amazed by the fact that I had caught them, noticing in the process things he never witnessed himself on his own head. His fingers hovered dangerously over the fresh paint so I took his hand away as a reflex to prevent him from messing up.

- Easy boy, let it dry first. Hold on, I said before giving him his hand back, what happened to your middle finger ?

- It's silly, I dropped my amp on it. What's funny is that Josh wasn't even the one worrying about it, it was Sam. He was running everywhere saying we had to call a doctor over, he thought my nail was gonna fall off it made him freak out.

The memory of it made him chuckle, and his cheerful expression warmed my heart.

- You really have a beautiful smile.

Jake's laughter came to an abrupt stop and it was his time to observe me now, probably noticing how fast my face changed color to a darker shade while I realized I just complimented him out loud.

- Oh yeah ?, he replied with a smirk. You really have a beautiful stain.

Oh no, I thought I had been extra careful this time, acrylic painting was a pain to get rid off. My clothes would be possibly ruined now and it was starting to be difficult to find an unstained outfit to wear, as I refused to put on an apron. While I was squirming to find paint on me, Jake took a step closer.

- Here.

The moment I raised my head he booped my nose, making me blink a few times before I realized something wasn't right. The tip of my nose felt strangely cold and if I crossed my eyes I could see a purple stain on it. Fucker just put some paint on my face.

- Oh you wanna play that game with me ?

Next thing he knew, a purple line was crossing his cheek and the glare he gave me at that moment while I could barely contain my laughter made me run for my life. Jake was quick to chase me, wooden palette in one hand, the other dodging the different items I threw his way in an attempt to slow him down. We looked positively crazy, running around the kitchen table shouting and screaming with a mix of fear and excitment. It was exhilirating and some memories of our race in the hallways a few weeks ago flashed through my mind. Jake caught me between the sink and the table, blocking the way out with his body, holding the palette full of several nuances of purple in the air like a weapon of mass destruction.

- You thought you were gonna get away with it ?

- Pleasepleaseplease, I laughed out of breath, not my clothes !

- You're lucky I'm feeling merciful today.

Two of his fingers dug deeply in the paint before spreading themselves on my forehead, other hand keeping my face in place while I slipped to the floor in order to escape. When my butt hit the ground Jake's did the same, smudging the paint on my forehead and even wipping his fingers on my cheeks. Quick to reach the palette, my tainted fingers caughed his jaw area, leaving four distinct lines of paint on his mouth and chin, shaking with laughter as his eyes widen as big as they could. In a desperate attempt to run away, I climbed over his leg, crawling my way back to the bedroom before I felt myself being pulled backwards, crying for help.

He went as far as lifting my sweater' sleeves to mark my arms too, and we laid on the kitched floor completely spent, giggling stupidly and playfully elbowing each other in the ribs.

- I missed it, sighed Jake.

- Body painting ?

- Spending time together.

That made my heart constrict painfully, and my smile drop. Jake didn't see, as we were both staring at the ceiling, exhausted. I never expected that he would enjoy hanging out with me enough to miss it. Guilt invited itself to the party, causing me to shift awkwardly on the ground.

- Me too.

I replied with a low, shy voice, barely a whisper, but I knew he was close enough to hear it. It was sincere, I had missed it every single day. And I could only wish for us to spend moments like these for the rest of our lives. But it remained and will remain a dream. And as it all came with a price, sobs began coming down my throat as soon as Jake had left the dorms.

The week passed quietly, with me succeeding in handling all of my homework to my teachers and earning some praises in the process. We were Friday, after our last lecture together with the twins before Christmas Holidays came in. Lunch took place in the staircase because Josh thought it was an important date or something about returning to our roots before not seeing each other for two weeks or something. To be fair, we didn't care as long as we were together for our last meal of the year, having ordered fries and burgers to mark the occasion, chatting excitedly about our plans.

- Christmas Holidays are for stuffing your stomach and drinking to endure family gatherings, stated Mandy while stealing some fries from Jake before he handed them over.

- And here I thought Christmas was about sharing, to think I did it wrong all those years.

Jake's sass earned him a flying frie that he grabbed and ate while Josh took the opportunity to explain his long list of things he wanted to do, speaking with his hands and nearly slapping his brother multiple times in the process.

- First I'm going hiking, then I want us to play some music at home with our family, he added looking at Jake, then I'll decore the tree and put the star on top, and then bake some Christmas cookies, and OH we'll sing some songs in front of the fireplace, and exchange gifts, I already have Ronnie's one she's gonna love it, you stand no chance in being her favorite brother this year Jake.

Squinting my eyes, I kept listening as he rambled on about some gigantic Christmas market in their city that you have to be careful not to get lost in it, and wearing animal sweaters and drinking eggnog and I just... lost track. Some part of me really hoped Christmas was his favorite holiday and that he wasn't that enthusiastic about every single one because then I'd start sending « get well soon » cards to their family.

- What about you ?, I asked Jake, completely ignoring Josh's endless monologue now a background noise.

A sheepish smile played across his face while he idly played with his food.

- Mina's birthday is around the corner so I already made a reservation at a local restaurant. Then I want to bring her to a spot near the mountains I found one day when we were hiking. If the sky is clear enough we'll be able to see the stars. I'll give her her present there.

- It's the perfect plan !, encouraged Mandy.

- Right ? Last time we spoke on the phone she said she had something to tell me so I can't wait to go home.

I could see we were all uncomfortable and that she was faking cheerfulness for his sake, because none of us were excited about it, not even Josh who took a bite of one of his fries only to immediately put it down with the others. Contrary to him, I forced a smile, not wanting to spoil Jake's enthusiasm. To be fair it was a fantastic date idea, and somehow it made me feel worse. I just genuinely hoped that girl knew how lucky she was.

AN² : Next chapter will be in a week or more because I have some stuff to do work-wise, also to give me time to write more, but mainly so that you really experience that Christmas Holiday without Jake. Now am I a bitch ? Maaaaybe, but I thought it’d be interesting to do! See you!

[berlinaura]

Me getting a flu during Christmas came to the best possible time. First of all, all of the fun plans were on a pause since everybody was on a holiday. I didn’t miss anything by just staying indoors. Second of all, I could easily use this time sending job applications. I had been resistant to start doing that because I felt like it was away from the fun time but now that the other option would be scrolling insta or studying, it wasn’t so bad after all!

On New Year’s eve I went with friends and their friends to Houdini again. We reserved a table beforehand which was smart since it was fully booked by NYE. Houdini never fails, we had drinks and delicious food before leaving to Warschauer. Already at 18, firework went off frequently and the whole city seemed to be on a party mood. 

At Warschauer we went to a gay bar called Himmelreich. I really liked the atmosphere there. It felt almost like a living room. They also played Britney Spears and Lady Gaga which was a big plus, obviously. On midnight we toasted with Prosecco and went to the street to watch firework. We were on a side street, yet the fireworks went off like crazy. Firework was literally set off in the middle of a street, towards buildings, on tram tracks and so on. Talk about a celebration! I almost got emotional because I started thinking how much progress I have made in basically every area of my life since last New Year’s. I hope 2020 will be at least as good as 2019.

After a while we decided to go get döner and then we went to hang out at the area near Warschauer Strasse S-Bahn. Some men came up to us and asked if we could go into a club with them because they weren’t let in without women. Apparently the place was regulated so that it wouldn’t end up being a total sausage fest. We went in to the club which had multiple dance floors of different genres. I drank a disgusting tabasco shot and a beer and then we went dancing to the hiphop area. Unfortunately, after a while we got so tired that we decided to leave. 

The way back was... an adventure. First off I took a wrong tram AND fell asleep in it. When I woke up, I had to take the same tram back a few stops but to the direction I just came from. Then I waited the ringbahn for a few minutes and FELL ASLEEP AGAIN. I can’t describe how tired I was, it was impossible for me to keep my eyes open. So on the other side of the ring, I woke up to some stranger stroking my thigh. I immediately pushed his hands away and probably looked extremely grumpy. “SCHAUMAL ICH HABE GELD, ICH BRAUCHE DEIN GELD NICHT!” (”look look look, I have money, I don’t need your money!”) he said while showing off money from his pockets. I had no idea what was going on, but good thing that he wasn’t stealing from me. After leaving the club, I just put my coat from the wardrobe on my bag which meant he didn’t have easy access anyways. 

He still put his hand on my leg again and I had to push him away again. “HAST DU GESCHLAFEN? BIST DU BESOFFEN? BRAUCHST DU GELD?” (”were you asleep? are you drunk? do you need money?”) he said. I couldn’t get a word out of my mouth so I just stared at him angrily and opened google maps to see where the fuck I was. Unfortunately I was on the opposite side of the ring, in west. I could have waited until it drives back to the station I was supposed to get off but I wanted to get off because of the dude. Then I put every last bit of energy I had to keep my eyes open on the ringbahn to another direction. I got home at around 6.30 and just fell on my bed. I slept until 15.00 and now my sleep schedule is completely ruined but at least I am safe and had a memorable NYE.

After a few days of sending job applications in complete isolation after New Year’s, we decided to go to Körperwelten with friends. Körperwelten is a museum full of real human corpses. It is designed to teach about human biology with the help of actual body donors. I would absolutely recommend Körperwelten to anybody visiting Berlin. Even photos are allowed here! Some American tourists were totally disrespectful though, actually touching a corpse of an antilope... After a short bit of hesitation we decided to get some pizza, right after being taught what fast food does to our bodies. Somehow we didn’t feel like ordering alcohol afterwards, though. 

The Christmas break destroyed my school motivation completely. Right now I feel like I don’t want to leave Berlin but I am so done with studying. Unfortunately, I am slowly starting to lose hope with the job hunt as well. Might as well just enjoy the ride as long as I can, right?

The first school week after the vacation I tried my best to study as well as I could. I bullshitted an English presentation and kept on sending work applications. Exams are scaring me because I don’t know what to expect from them. At the same time I am in this “who cares” mentality when it comes to getting good grades, I just don’t have the energy to worry about that. 

On Thursday I went out with my roommates. We went to get the “best pizza of Berlin”. I hope we had done this earlier because it was nice to learn to know everybody a bit better. I also heard that two of them are moving out this January. Most likely I won’t be getting a job in Berlin which means that I don’t need to deal with the new roommates for a long. For some reason I have a bad feeling about the new ones...

On Friday I went to my hang out in my friend’s dorm. The whole building looked like a hotel! They have a goddamn reception dude there like in Gossip Girl! Talk about apartment goals. We went to their clubhouse and hung out with the active tenants of that building. People had brought alcohol and snacks from their home countries such as Austria, Romania, Spain and Serbia. I enjoyed this evening very much :) I even got a “Happy Birthday” sung to me at midnight! 

The next day was my birthday. Gotta say that after enjoying those east European boozes the next night did not make me feel well in the morning. Me and my friend went to have a brunch near Alexanderplatz. I would like to go out for breakfast more often. It is so enjoyable to eat well in the morning instead of just having a low effort toast. Afterwards, we went to get some decorations from Tiger and of course alcohol. We went SO overboard with the alcohol. We actually had the ingredients for 32 liters of punch, 1 bottle of peach Schnaps, Sourz liqueur, Absolut vodka, a bottle of gin and tonic to make GTs, around 10 beers, 2 bottles of wine... FOR 5 PEOPLE. 

Later in the evening my other friends joined and we played beer pong and other social games. I also got Exploding Kittens as a gift! I feel sorry for my neighbors because not only did we have a gathering for 6 hours, we yelled stuff like “Finland is the best!” out of the window, twerked to Anaconda etc. But against all odds, we actually made it to the club at around 1. The time literally flew by! 

The club had a 80s, 90s, 00s theme with various dance floors. I wanted to play the table football so we basically hoarded the game for an hour or so. One good thing with basically marinating our livers in alcohol before going to the club was that all I needed to buy at the club was 1 beer. After enough of playing and dancing, we decided to leave the club around 5. 

Me and my date sat in the tram stop for 10 minutes, waiting for my tram. When my tram arrived I didn’t wanna let go of his hand so I decided I’m not going home, lol. We got some Döner and went to his place. On the S-Bahn I felt the need to socialize with people so I asked the dude in front of me what his life dreams are and he said he liked to be a footballer but he broke his leg so now he’s a club bouncer. I hope I didn’t ruin that guys morning because he looked so sad for the rest of the ride :(

The next day was nothing but sleeping and eating mini salamis. In the evening I came home, cleaned the horrible mess from the kitchen (which looked like there was a tornado), watched a movie and slept some more. 

Usually after being lazy for a couple of days, I feel guilty and want to actually study. Now it is not the case. I really should be sending more work applications OR do school work but currently I have no motivation towards anything. It is Monday, the time is 14.34 and I am laying on my bed because I skipped school. I am also thinking if it is socially acceptable to open a beer. It is, right? Right?

[suckstobescotty]

It all started in a bar "Episode 1"

There might be a part 2 on this depending how it's received. It was much more detailed but then my writing app deleted the entire thing snd I had to restart. Also 100 paragraph thing sucks. Hope you guys like it.

TW: date-rape drug use, alcohol, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, implied murder scene, death threat, police, and gun mention.

"Let me smash" the guy at the bar slurred next to you, his breath smelt like hot sauce, old chicken, and whiskey. Not pleasant.

"No. Now leave me alone" You said sternly. Sipping your drink before putting it down for a second and looking away to see if your friend was still here. She had a habit of leaving with some guy almost immediately. When you looked back, the guy was gone and you sighed in relief and took another sip and the chugged the rest of your Guinness before ordering water. You had only drank one beer but you didn't feel like drinking any more than that tonight. As the water was placed in front of you everything bag to spin  and you felt yourself falling even though you weren't moving. You stood up to leave and find your friend but almost toppled over.

"Whoa there sweetie. Let's go home" a man said as you stumbled next to him. You looked up and saw the guy from earlier. And wanted to fight but you were too far gone to the feeling of whatever was wrong with you that you were practically limp.

"Colby does that look right to you?" Sam asks, Colby looks up and notices a guy dragging some androgynous person out of the bar but the person seemed out of it. Not drunk, not high, just limp and unresponsive other than weak shoves on his chest as if they were trying to get away but had no strength.

"No, no it does not" Colby says and places his drink with Sam before getting up from the table. He walked through the dance area that only had a few people on it, cutting off the slurring man carrying his limp victim. "Sorry sir, but where are you taking them?" Colby asked holding his ground and looking as intimidating as the guy could look.

"I'm taking her home, she is way to drunk to be here" He slurs and tries to shove past. The limp person in his arm keeps slapping at his face with a limp hand, a 'they/them pronouns please!' Pin was on the victims arm of their black Jean jacket.

"I'm sorry but who are you to them?" Colby asks with a blank stare to the guy.

"Boyfriend." He slurs back after a hesitation.

"Can I see a picture of you two together then?" Colby asked. The man grumbled for a second before answering.

"I don't have my phone and I don't need to show you shit!" A bouncer comes from behind Colby who already had his phone out to call 911 and seperates the man and the, now passed out, drugged character in his arm. The guy fought against it but his ID was taken from him and a picture taken of it for the police before he was kicked out.

"911 what's your emergency?" The response agent asked as Colby's phone call was answered, the drugged victim going in and out of consciousness in the booth that he had taken them too.

"My friend was drugged at Murphy's Pub. Can I get an ambulance?" Colby says as he keeps fingers on the others wrist to keep track of their pulse "yes they are breathing. Their pulse is a little quick and they don't smell like they drank much at all." Colby tried to give more information. The paramedics entered the bar a few minutes later. Everyone moved out of the way for them.

"Can I come with to make sure they are okay?" Colby asked and they allowed him to ride with.

_ _ _

The room was bright and your head hurt as you looked around. You didn't remember anything beyond seeing that man's face and him saying he would bring you home, and then sitting in a booth with a handsome brunette as he was on his phone.

"Wow. You're awake" a voice said from beside you and you looked to the door where the same handsome brunette was and your Friend that had abandoned you.

"Bitch" You spat at her making her laugh but then frown and walk to your bedside.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you." She said as she petted her hand through your hair.

"No you shouldn't. Please leave. I'll call you when I feel like talking this over" You mumbled and she nodded.

"Okay. I'm sorry" she then left the room. The handsome brunette wandered over and sat next to you.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his amazing blue eyes were filled with concern. You stared at him and looked over his frame for a moment.

"Fine. Tired." You responded. He nodded and then looked over as a nurse came in.

"Oh hello. We ran some blood tests and found that you were given a date rape drug known as GHB. Your friend here called just in time. You had highly toxic levels of it in your system. We were able to get you on some fluids and pump your stomach. You'll br fine now but you'll need to stay here a few days" The professional spoke and you simply nodded as she spoke before she left again.

The man got a phone call and left the room to answer it, you looked around tried to remember anything between when the man first grabbed you and when you were in the booth to now. Nothing would click and your brain just wouldn't allow you to remember anything.

"Sorry, business call" The brunette said as he sat back down next to you ten minutes later. "Sorry I haven't told you my name, I'm Colby Brock." He introduces and you smile gently and tell him your name before thinking of a question.

"What happened last night? All I can remember is I went out drinking with my friend and I only had one beer before ordering water, I had tried to tell a man to leave me alone. When I finished my beer I started to feel ill and heavy and when I tried to leave the man grabbed me and tried to take me. That's it" You decided to end your memory recall there, it would be easier for the man to explain that way.

"My friend Sam noticed you and the man, who is arrested now, and pointed out that it didn't look right. I approached the man and asked him who he was and where he was taking you. He told me he was your boyfriend and he was taking you home. However he couldn't prove your relation. So the bouncer kicked him out. You were very limp and we're falling in and out of consciousness which explains your memory. I brought you to a booth to sit down and called 911. I rode in the ambulance with you and haven't left since." Colby explained and you followed along the best you could.

"Well thank you. How long have I been out?" You asked concerned about your job.

"About, 9 hours. It's 10 a.M. right now" He explained. You swore gently under your breath.

"Well, I'm fired." You laughed and rubbed your face. You were lucky to still be on a family health insurance plan. "I had no more lates left this month so I'm fired" You clarified when Colby asked what you meant.

"Oh.." He said to himself. He looked out the window now, the beautiful L.A. sky was all that was visible for you though. You and Colby talked for a few hours. He left around 3 p.M. to go home and get changed. He promised to be your ride when you were released. You slept a lot, you ate only ad much ads you had to as your stomach couldn't handle much and the next morning they let you leave. You put on your clothes from last night. Your Jean jacket, black Jean shorts, and your TieDye shirt.

Then waited for Colby outside the hospital. He pulled up a few minutes late but you didn't mind. You sat in the back seat, the Sam guy that Colby had mentioned earlier was up front, and gave Colby instructions to where you lived. A little embarrassed about it. It was one of the shades parts of L.A. you passed 5 cop cars while on your street. There was broken windows and police tape all over your building.

"This is where you live?" Colby asked seeming worried. You nodded.

"It's all I could afford on a tendergreens salary" You responded as you went to leave the car.

"Can I walk you to your apartment please? In case you collapse or sonething" Colby tried to recover himself but failed. You nodded though, it was a kind offer. He turned off the car and locked it with Sam inside before walking you to your little apartment. Police were just exiting your neighbour's door as you left, her 19-year-old son in cuffs with them.

"Hey moodring" You called out and he gave a peace sign through handcuffs. Comb gave you a look as you laughed. "He is called moodring ring because he changes his hair color bi-weekly." You explained and Colby nodded. Your apartment was small, and practically empty. You had milk crate seats and a ripped to shreds futon.

"Um" Colby felt bad for you. He didn't think that this was a way to live, he felt sad.

"Sorry for the mess" you apologized but Colby saw nothing to make a mess with. The walls were bare, the floor was almost empty, and it looked like the kitchen hadn't been touched in a year.

"I'm sorry but I really don't like you living here. It's dangerous and it's not a nice place for such a nice person to live. Can I bring you to my place instead? I have an extra room in my house and that way you can find a new job while not worrying about rent" Colby justifies his every word. You stared at Colby for a few minutes, he seemed like a genuine guy. He seemed like he was actually worried about you. 

"I don't want to be in the way Colby. You're a really nice guy but I don't want to  invade your space." You responded and Colby looked worried but he nodded.

"If you change your mind. You have my number okay?" Colby offered and you nodded before he left back to his car. You called your body to confirm if you were fired or not.

"Yes. I'm sorry but no matter what you missed a day of work and didn't call in about it. You don't have a job here anymore. I will put in a good recommendation for your next job and won't mention your lates" He responded and then hung up on you. You sighed and decided to just clean up and then sleep.

There was gun shots by 8pm and then men slamming their hands on your door screaming they were going to kill you. "Wrong apartment!" You called out just to receive a 'we will kill you anyways' they never made it in though. The next morning you had a rent warning under your door, rent had been raised from 400 a month to 600. "Fuck"

_-_-_

"Colby?" You asked as he answered the phone. You were under your bed covers in your room. The sound of a slightly distant gunshot rang through the phone into Colby's ear.

"Oh hey. What do you need? I'm here for you" Colby answered. Already grabbing his car keys.

"Can I take you up on that moving offer? I can't afford my rent because they upped it, I did get fired, and I was almost murdered last night for the tenth time this month" You answered and heard a car start.

 "I'm on my way. Pack up your valuables and we will just move you today okay," Colby said and you agreed before ending the call. You filled the milk crates with pictures of your family, your laptop that was 13 years old, and your phone and charger. That was all you owned other than some clothing.

"Hi" You greeted as you let Colby into your apartment. You picked up a crate and Colby took the other. You brought them to his car and then got in. Colby looked you over and noticed how tired you looked.

He lead you into his apartment where you slept on the couch for the next six hours. He filmed a video while you were asleep and began editing shortly before you woke up.

That was how this all started...

[atc74]

Grandma’s Kitchen Chapter 1

Square Filled: Wrong Place Wrong Time

Warnings: Flangst

Summary:  You’re a chef with a brand new idea and Chuck is a food critic that cost you your job. You should hate him, but with biology, is it ever that cut and dried?

Pairing: Chuck x Reader AU

Word Count:

Written for: @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: the amazingly biased @hannahindie, the amazing supportive @pinknerdpanda and my smutty soul sister @evansrogerskitten. Thank you all!

Want Chuck’s Scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker.

“Okay team! We are two hours from opening. I want to tell you all how happy I am that you are here and I know with all the prep we have done in the last month we are going to kick ass! And know in advance that I am not doing this alone; each and every one of you is vital to our success,” you finished rallying up your troops before double and triple checking every last detail.

You flew through the quaint corner restaurant making sure the linens were hanging just right. You polished a smudge on the large mirror outside the restrooms then popped inside to make sure supplies were stocked there too. You were nervous, excited, and exhausted but knew the next four hours would fly by in a snap. Invitations had been mailed weeks ago and as you stared at the list of everyone who had responded, you became seething mad.

“Hey, Y/N! Uh oh, what’s wrong?” Hannah, your restaurant manager, had snuck up on you, noticing the furrow in your brow.

“Chuck Shurley? You have got to be kidding me!” you shouted.

“He is the top food critic in the city, Y/N/N. You left me in charge of the invite list and introducing the city’s newest chef to the best food critic is a great idea,” she hummed next to you.

“We already met, sorta,” you sighed and sank into the nearest chair.

“What do you mean, you already sorta met?” she asked, her face a mix of concern and amusement.

“Remember my last job? The one I got fired from? Well, Chuck wrote a horrific review and it wasn’t even my food he hated. It was the service, the drinks...but he liked the food. The owner was so mortified that she fired the entire staff and started over,” you recalled bitterly “Tonight better go off without a hitch or I am going to wring his neck!”

“Oh honey. I am sorry that happened to you, but this is new and perfect and it is going to be great. You have worked so hard with all of us to design a brilliant menu and a cozy, homey atmosphere. People are going to be blown away,” she proclaimed, running a hand reassuringly down your back.

“I just really want a place where they can be comforted by simple cuisine and the feel of family,” you looked up at her, your eyes welling with tears.

“Grandma’s will be that place, Y/N/N,” she vowed, then turned to leave you alone with your thoughts.  

Hannah took off into the back to give last minute instructions. You knew your staff was great and the food was phenomenal.

It was an hour into your opening that you started to feel uneasy and slightly flushed. You peeked out of the kitchen to see Hannah seating Chuck Shurley and a male companion at the table nearest the kitchen. The one spot with the best view of the restaurant, but also the busiest in the house. You quickly snagged Manda, your nicest and most experienced server, and asked her to take good care of them while they were here.

You meandered through the restaurant, accepting well wishes and checking on your patrons, many of whom you had known for many years, having grown up in town. You casually strolled by Chuck’s table a time or two, asking if they needed anything else. Each time they politely declined and you walked away, your nose filled with the comforting scent of pipe tobacco and the beach, reminding you of your grandfather.

You quietly observed Chuck and his friend, silently pleased that he had ordered the cheese and onion pierogi and sausage balls for an appetizer. It appeared as though Manda was taking good care of them, as they both seemed happy with their choices and the service.

Standing by the front door, you were greeting newcomers and wishing others a good night when Manda brought out their main dishes.  Chuck had chosen the lasagna, the recipe straight from your great-grandmother’s Italian kitchen, while his friend had opted for the chicken cordon bleu, your own mother’s recipe. A smile crept across your face as you watched them take the first few bites. You slipped behind the bar when you saw Chuck nodding at the plate and gesturing wildly to his friend.

The night was passing so quickly and as you rang out a few customers, you knew it had been a great night. You heard whispered comments each time you walked through the tables.

This tastes just like Noni used to make…

This is exactly what I needed tonight…

Did she steal Aunt Carol’s recipe? I have Aunt Carol’s recipe and mine is never this good!

A loud crash broke through your reverie and you cursed under your breath, bolting for the kitchen door when you saw it. Chuck Shurley was wearing Nana Novak’s apple squares on his shirt. Manda and another server were both on the floor, having slipped on a glass of water a child had knocked over.

“Mr. Shurley, I am so sorry,” you hovered making sure no one was injured. As soon as your servers were up, you turned your attention back to the table. “Can I get you another dessert? On the house.”

Chuck looked up at you as you fussed over the mess and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. You heard the sharp inhale of his breath and froze, thinking the worst. “No, I think I have had enough tonight.” They both rose from the table and walked toward the front where Hannah rang them out.

Two hours later you were sitting alone in a corner booth, a beer in front of you and tears in your eyes. The entire night had been a success, but one simple slip up had put a blemish on the entire night. You couldn’t help but think that you were going to fail because of one food critic, again.

Taglist: @sis-tafics  @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @evansrogerskitten @percussiongirl2017 @blacktithe7 @theoriginalvicki @mrswhozeewhatsis @hobby27  @bethbabybaby @anspgene @cyrilconnelly @just-another-busy-fangirl @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @roxyspearing @heyitscam99 @iwantthedean @mogaruke @smoothdogsgirl @x-waywardaf-x @myoutletforfanfiction @growningupgeek @spnbaby-67 @emoryhemsworth @impalaimagining @feelmyroarrrr @docharleythegeekqueen @katymacsupernatural @hennessy0274-blog @rockhoochie  @charliebradbury1104 @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wingedcatninja @highfunctioning-sociopath @speakinvain @sweetpeamoose @sandlee44 @mottergirl99 @meeshw777 @squirrel-moose-winchester @meganwinchester1999 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @grace-for-sale @andkatiethings @nanie5 @monkeymcpoopoo @drakelover78 @thisismysecrethappyplace @linki-locks11 @roseblue373​

Chuck’s Chosen: @natasha-cole @a-queen-and-her-throne @shanghai88 @wilde-abandon

[another-writer]

It’s (Not) Rocket Science

So I haven’t uploaded anything in a while; I’ve been in a bit of a creative slump so I’m not sure how this has turned out but I took the opportunity to write in honour of @bionic-buckyb‘s 5k celebration. Congratulations love xx

Hope you guys enjoy and, hey, feedback’s always welcome xx

Word count: 3.1k (it’s a long’un, my friends)

Prompt/category: Blind date

Having given your two weeks’ resignation, you already felt a sense of detachment from your surroundings. There wasn’t much to miss: the coworkers you had gotten close with weren’t working the same shift so in times when your energy was running low, you couldn’t even look across at the bar in hopes that Natasha was there to pull a face that would make you laugh. Sam had quit almost two months ago for some job in New York; his Instagram posts made his life look like a dream outside of this stuffy restaurant. 

Still, you were almost at the finish line. You had a couple more hours and then you were done. And what better way to finish your job than a Saturday night rush.

You hadn’t worked a Saturday night in a long time but the familiarity hit you like a train. It meant you couldn’t sneak glances at your book behind the bar counter because you were busy constantly waiting tables. It meant cleaning glasses behind the bar while the bartenders were overworked with orders from the growing crowd. It also meant people-watching - families, couples, the regular diners who could somehow afford this place, and, perhaps your favourite: first dates. Even better - blind dates.

You were a skeptical person with a sardonic sense of humour who could barely handle second-hand embarrassment. So, yeah, blind dates were painful to watch but sometimes incredibly hilarious or satisfying. You had seen a lot in your short time here.

So, as tiring as Saturday night shifts were, you were hoping for some entertainment.

While you stood by the kitchen waiting for an order to come by, your eyes gazing over the pages of the book you had hidden with the chefs’ help behind the window, you found yourself catching a man’s eye in the reflective window frame who stood by the service desk, your heart stopping for a millisecond.

Christ.

Your palms started to sweat, your face heating up instantly as your stomach dropped to the ground and six feet under. 

‘Hey,’ you prompted sharply, catching your coworker by the arm as he reached over to collect an order. 

‘What?’ he half-whispered back.

‘Go help him,’ you muttered. 

‘I’ve got a -’

‘I’ll do it,’ you pleaded. ‘Just - would you - come on?’

He groaned and then subsided. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘Table twelve,’ he added.

You strictly kept your back to the front of the restaurant as you balanced a large tray of appetizers on your arm and maneuvered around the room to your target table, snaking through the most inconvenient route to avoid eye contact because it just had to be your luck that James Barnes - the guy you stood up - was being shown his table at the restaurant you worked at.

He was shy and seemed nervous; smartly dressed in a black suit but without a tie and hair neatly combed, beard trimmed. All the symptoms of a blind date. That, or he was going to propose. But you were pretty sure it was the former. In your experience, people tended to sweat more when they were proposing.

He was as handsome as you remember from six months ago and despite your animosity towards the memory, it was endearing to see him so nervous. By the way he was dressed and kept himself, you could tell that nerves probably weren’t a usual occurrence for him. Not to mention his cerulean blue eyes kept drifting like a calm ocean into steely grey in the most mesmerising way which completely contrasted the sharp angles of his jawline. You barely knew the man and you already envied the woman currently sitting opposite him.

In the infrequent lull of busing tables and serving patrons, you were beckoned over to the bar to help wash and dry glasses. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest as you stood by Matt, the bartender, in almost clear view from his date’s seat. Luckily, Bucky’s - James’ (you didn’t think you were able to call him Bucky anymore) - back was to you. The conversation between himself and his date seemed a little awkward - like all that of a blind date - but not desperately so.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Matt smirking as he poured a bottle of whiskey into several tumblers. 

‘That’s the guy you ran out on, huh?’ he murmured without looking at you. ‘You’re certainly picky.’

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Sam, who knew practically everything there was to know about you, must have told him. ‘It’s not like I wanted to.’

‘You’d be insane to want to,’ Matt replied, practically eyeing James up. ‘What happened again?’

You pushed aside several freshly dried glasses and reached for another. 

‘It was way back when I was a volunteer paramedic,’ you replied. ‘There was an emergency and I was already running late and when I got here I was a total mess and … I saw him through the window and …’ You dried your hands almost angrily. ‘Imagine turning up still smelling like blood and sterilizer to a guy who looks like … that.’

‘You could have called.’

‘I was embarrassed.’

‘Was he really that terrible?’

You smirked sardonically. Regrettably. ‘No,’ you admitted. ‘He was far from it. His friends were trying to get him to hit on practically every girl at the bar and the poor thing was ready to bury himself by the time I ran into him.’

‘And how was he?’

‘A mess,’ you laughed. ‘Could barely hear him over the music. But he was sweet.’

Matt dropped an empty beer bottle sloppily into the crate below the counter. ‘And you left the stumbling, sweet businessman because you were embarrassed.’

 You squared your shoulders. ‘Well ... I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.’

‘Imagine if it was you wh-’ Matt quickly cut himself off when the tall brunette - James’ date - appeared at the bar. You blinked harshly. In the brief reminiscence of the time you became the biggest jackass, you hadn’t realised she had moved.

She ignored Matt and instead looked at you. Your mind raced. Had James seen you? Had he recognised you, and told her who you were? It was ridiculous, why would she care? Why would he care?

‘I’m sorry to disturb,’ she began, her polite tone completely throwing you off, ‘but could you call a cab for me?’

Your brow furrowed slightly. James was still seated at his table. Their meals were barely half-eaten. And he wasn’t even looking in this direction.

Son of a bitch, she was ditching him. She had been here just shy of an hour and a half.

‘Oh,’ you blinked. ‘I … sure, sure.’ You reached for the landline behind a row of empty beer bottles. ‘Are … I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?’ You held the phone to your ear.

Maybe James was an ass and you got lucky all those months ago, you thought as you spoke to the operator. 

She shrugged so subtly that the movement almost escaped you and smiled awkwardly. ‘Just … Things don’t seem to be working out. He’s already gotten four phone calls. Seems like a busy guy.’

Your grip tightened around the phone, irritation swelling in your gut. You were so close to going off on her, about how James hadn’t even answered those calls (you should know, you had been watching them the entire time), how he had clearly tried to clear some time for her if he was so busy. how she should at least have the decency to finish the date altogether instead of running out. 

As if able to sense your swelling anger, Matt took the phone from you and said, ‘How about you wait outside, the car’ll be here soon.’

She smiled thankfully and … and just left. 

Your eyes burned through the restaurant doors, your fingers tapping furiously on the counter top. And James was just sitting there, waiting for her to come back. Robotically, you continued helping Matt in silence until -

‘The poor bastard’s working,’ Matt hissed, grabbing your attention.

You looked up and saw that James was furiously typing away on a small Macbook, eyes scanning a million words a second, sometimes pausing to jot something down in a black notebook.

You knew this ploy, you did it all the time where you pretended to look busy to avoid looking lost - you weren’t sure if answering emails and actually doing work was better or worse.

‘You should go talk to him,’ Matt said.

‘I think that would make his evening worse,’ you mumbled deprecatingly.

Still, you hated to see him alone. You didn’t want to wait until he would start scanning the restaurant looking for his date, seeming even more lost. You could at least tell him and allow him to leave without looking too dejected. Maybe. 

You set the drying rag down and Matt nudged you gently in some kind of solidarity move, before you slowly approached James’ table wringing your hands. 

He didn’t notice you at first. 

‘Hey,’ you said gently. Your voice was almost hoarse. 

James looked up for a second, quickly doing a double take. Yep, he certainly recognised you.

You both looked at each other silently, trying to gather your thoughts. Matt was either trying to stifle his laughter, was failing to do so, or was cringing so hard his neck was close to breaking.

God, why couldn’t your shift have ended an hour ago?

You almost jumped when James spoke.

‘I did not expect to see you in a place like this.’

The bastard was smirking.

‘Oh, hilarious,’ you grumbled, your confidence surprising you.

He didn’t really sound malicious when he spoke but having done something objectively wrong, you still felt an overwhelming sense of shame.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked. ‘I’m on a date - if, y’know, you know what that is.’

‘James, look, I’m not here to pick a fight with you,’ you huffed. ‘I’m actually doing you a favour.’

‘A favour?’ He raised a brow, almost humoured.

‘Your date’s gone, James!’ you snapped and then paused when you realised how loud you had said it. Luckily, other customers were perfectly engaged in their own evenings. 

He paused in his reverie, blue eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie. You were someone capable of standing him up, so for all he knew, this could have been something else just as harsh.

‘She asked me to call a cab,’ you continued a little softer.

He pursed his lips and looked down, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. It was a sign of defeat but it looked as though he had anticipated it. Like he had expected it. How low was his self-esteem to allow himself to think that?

‘You … You don’t seem surprised,’ you mumbled, unsure if you would be overstepping your boundaries by venturing into the issue. 

‘I was getting a few calls,’ he mumbled offhandedly, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘No one would appreciate it, but I didn’t think it was that bad.’

‘Work?’ 

‘Yeah, work.’

You sat down in her vacant seat, slow enough in case you were told to leave. ‘She mentioned you seemed like a busy guy. Crappy reasoning, to be honest.’

‘And what was yours?’ 

The question threw you off. Despite his slight taunting, you had hoped you could avoid the topic. Or at least wait a lot longer before you got to it.

‘Do you still think about that?’

‘Seeing the girl who stood me up suddenly just revoked one of my only memories of her.’

You looked at him, only momentarily, not being able to maintain eye contact. His eyes were so low but heavily guarded. You wondered whether he had been able to get over you as quickly as you thought (or hoped) he did.

You sighed. ‘You met me back when I was a paramedic. My schedule was so hectic,’ you mumbled ashamedly. ‘I was called to a fire in Bladensburg, they needed more people than they had, and by the time I was done …’ Your fingers were fiddling with the cuff of your sleeve as you spoke. You didn’t want to sound like you were making excuses for your behaviour. ‘I was so late and I was driving past the restaurant covered in soot and I smelled like sterilizer and it was one of the worst things I had ever seen …’

‘You were late because of work, how could I be so rational as to understand that?’ he said sardonically.

It was quiet for too long, neither of you able to say a word. There were too many cases where guys hadn’t believed your reasons for turning up late or missing dates at all that by the time James had come into your life, you had just given up trying to explain. It wasn’t just the hours of work, it was the aftermath - the images of people hurt or dying, or burned. You two weren’t close, had only met in a bar when he asked you out. Your crossed your arms over your stomach, eyes boring into the lapel of James’ blazer. 

‘Why didn’t you ever call?’ he asked quietly, voice almost drowned out by your surroundings.

You looked up into his eyes hesitantly.

‘Was embarrassed,’ you murmured, cheeks heating up. ‘I’ve had plenty of guys dismiss what I do … I didn’t think you would care if you never saw me again.’

James scoffed softly and shook his head. ‘I really liked you, you know that?’

Your cheeks stayed warm. ‘I liked you too. It wasn’t easy just to leave … I think about it a lot; it was a terrible move.’ You bit the inside of your cheek. ‘I’m really sorry.’ 

He shrugged. ‘It was a while ago,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really hold a grudge but it - it hurt.’

‘I’m sorry for your two shitty dates,’ you replied. 

‘This one wasn’t your fault.’

‘Well you’re still owed an apology.’

There was another bout of silence, weighted with unspoken words ready to be said, rather than nothing at all. Then James spoke again. You were surprised and a little honoured he was still talking to you. Yet, it was parallel to the night you both had met, when neither of you could stop talking, speaking as though you had known each other for months rather than minutes. The proximity was scary at first but made you feel warm. And it had seemed like you had lost it by your own fault.

‘There wasn’t anyone to really get attached to,’ Bucky - James - explained. ‘It was a blind date my friends set up,’ he said. ‘Work keeps me busy, I don’t have much time.’

‘You’re still at Stark Industries?’

‘I like it there,’ he shrugged. ‘Got promoted so … busier than ever.’   

‘Still get to travel?’ 

‘Not anymore. Two years in Bucharest was enough, though.’

‘Oh, you think? you joked, the tension easing from your shoulders when you realised James didn’t hold any animosity towards you. 

Bucky - James, goddammit - chuckled and drained the rest of his drink. ‘Okay, so I have to ask ... What are you doing working here?’ 

You smirked. ‘I was a volunteer paramedic and I got a job here while looking for something else, save some more money up for a new place.’

‘You’re moving?’ he asked, sounding almost … you couldn’t put your finger on the tone of his voice. 

‘Not out of the city, James.’

Your use of his first name seemed to throw him a little, having broken the ice by now, but he didn’t question it. ‘So where - … what do you start?’

‘NASA, actually, I’ll be monitoring astronaut health, all that stuff.’

James stared at you wide-eyed, both skeptical and slightly humoured. As if to say, Well that came out of nowhere.

‘I’m serious,’ you promised, smirking at his expression.

He scoffed, almost laughing in shock. ‘Okay but you gotta tell me more than just that,’ he cried. ‘What - NASA? Seriously?’

You grinned, eyes crinkling. ‘The job’s new, I only started a week ago and it’s … intellectually challenging.’

‘It’s ... rocket science,’ he replied.

‘It’s sort of rocket science. Or as close as I can get.’ You breathed out a short laugh and nodded graciously.  ‘As for here, I’m finishing off my final two weeks; tonight’s my last shift.’

Bucky regarded you with a welcoming kind of warmth in his eyes. ‘Y’know, this weekend was the only one I’ve had free for the past two months.’

‘I usually don’t work Saturdays; ‘m covering a for a friend.’

‘So if I came here tomorrow -’

‘You would have missed me,’ you murmured as though hypnotised.

Bucky’s eyes searched yours. ‘Funny how that works.’

As you sensed the mood shift, your phone buzzed in your apron pocket; the only alarm you had ever set was for your final day at this job. You reached into your pocket, silencing the alarm without even looking.

‘My shift’s over.’

You hadn’t planned to stay until the restaurant closed; technically you had had your last shift yesterday and had had your goodbyes. Now, you felt inclined to stay.

‘If it’s any consolation, your date missed out,’ you offered, feeling slightly nervous to say so. 

He smiled almost bashfully in response. ‘You think so?’ For some reason, his question made you blush.

By now, you would have been untying your apron and going to your locker to collect your things and go home.

You nodded. ‘And … I know I did too.’ Your voice was nonchalant, but shy, and you still felt brave for saying it out loud. Keeping this man’s attention, even for a short amount of time, felt like something to be proud of.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes ended up walking you to your car, side by side, his hands in his pockets.

‘This place sucks anyway,’ you chuckled. ‘The portions are obnoxiously small.’

Bucky laughed at your comment. ‘Well, maybe you can show me some place better?’

You smirked; there was a slight tone of humour in his final comment which almost washed over the question he was actually asking. It took a moment for you to realise what he was saying because there couldn’t be any possibility that someone who looked like that and whom you stood up wanted to spend time with you without being forced to. But after talking to him, albeit not for long, part of you felt like it was genuine want, not obligation by which he was asking you.

‘Wait, really?’ 

Bucky hunched his shoulders; the wind rifled through the ends of his hair almost hypnotically. ‘I mean I really wanna hear more about,’ he shook his head a little and smiled, ‘about not-rocket science. And if you promise to call me if anything should happen …

You scuffed your foot against the gravel, smiled at him and nodded. ‘Sounds good to me.’

‘I-I’ll call you then.’

‘Clear a Saturday next month for me, will you, James?’ Bucky?

He chuckled at your joke. ‘Hopefully much sooner, [Y/N].’

[inyournightmares97]

MY REACTION

In which Choi Youngjae finds out that the cold, sexy popular girls aren’t always what they seem. 

Warnings:Strong language, angst

Word Count: 4.9k+

Every single cell in my body reacts,

From my head to my toes,

everything reacts

“Your posture is wrong,” Jieun said coldly. “How long are you going to dance with your legs? I told you, swing your hips. Your hips are up here, for your information! You look like a grandmother, what’s even sexy about you?”

The other girl stiffened but kept her mouth shut. Jieun was one of the best dancers around. She could curse at the other girls and they would all take it silently, because they needed her. The university’s annual cultural festival was coming up. Dance performances were a huge part of it, and it was a fact that Jieun’s team always went home with the prize.  Not to mention her performance attracted all the male attention.

“Sorry, unnie-“

“Let’s do it again, from the top. Watch my hips. It’s not sexy if you’re stiff as hell.”

Jieun played the music and stood at the front of the dance studio, facing the mirror. She could feel the eyes of the other girls on her, watching as she re-did the dance move perfectly. They had chosen AOA’s Miniskirt to cover for the performance. It was one of the sexiest choreographies of the year and most of the male students were already anticipating watching their female classmates dance to it. Jieun pushed her long hair out of her face coolly and then went back over to the speaker.

“I’m playing it from the beginning, one last time. Forget all the other motions, let’s focus on hip movement, that’s the highlight of the whole song,” Jieun ordered firmly. She knew the girls would obey. They didn’t want to embarrass themselves by messing up such a sexy dance in front of the whole university. “Then we’ll call it a day. Last one, girls.”

All the girls looked relieved. Jieun led them through the last song coolly. She could tell that the other girls were staring at her in envy; she knew that she looked unbelievably sexy when she danced. Jieun had been an idol trainee at an entertainment company in high school. She’d quit training, for reasons that many speculated about but nobody knew. There was a rumour that she’d gotten kicked out of the company for sleeping with a male trainee. There was another which said she’d beaten up another girl in school.

None of the rumors dared claim she was kicked out because she lacked talent.

“Are you coming to the party later today?” one of the girls asked Jieun once practice was over. They were all grabbing water and wiping off sweat with their towels. She sounded excited. “It’s at Jackson Wang’s house; you know him, that guy who keeps winning all the athletic champion-“

“I know Jackson Wang.”

“Right. Of course. So are you going?” she asked eagerly. “His parties are usually awesome, and there’s usually a lot of hot guys there. He’s friends with almost all the guys on the football team. Do you know that guy called Jaebum? He’s so sexy, I swear it’s like he-“

Jieun cut her off. She was tired of the girl’s rambling. “I’ll think about it,” she replied simply. Then she picked up her bag and headed out, so that she wouldn’t have to talk to her anymore. Jieun knew about Jackson Wang’s parties. They were wild, in every sense of the word. She had been to a couple of them before. Jieun wasn’t certain if she wanted to get drunk so close to the dance performance. Then again, maybe she just needed a break. There would be plenty of alcohol, and plenty of hot guys. What more did one need?

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

I know that the sweeter it is, the more dangerous

The more dangerous it is, the sweeter

But I didn’t want to lose you

“Whoaaa! Score!” Bambam whisper-yelled as he ran into the living room where the older boys were playing and failing at a game of beer pong. He grabbed Jackson’s arm and tugged excitedly; his cheeks were drunkenly flushed. “Hyung, you’ll never believe it, but about half of the girls from the dance club just walked into the party!”

Jackson grinned. “Sweet! I invited them earlier.”

“How do I look? Is my hair okay?” Bambam demanded, smoothing down his hair that was slightly sticking up in the front. He was bouncing on his feet nervously. Youngjae chuckled and turned Bambam so he could press down the offending hair. Poor Bambam had been trying to score with a girl from the dance club since forever.

“There. You look great,” Youngjae reassured him.

“Thanks, hyung! Waah, I feel good today!” Bambam pumped his fist in the air. “In fact, I’m feeling so good, I think I’m going to over and talk to Jieun-sunbaenim.”

Jinyoung, standing nearby, scoffed into his drink. “Don’t be stupid. Kang Jieun? Go for one of the freshman, Bambam, they’re more your level. You’ll humiliate yourself if you try to hit on Jieun. You didn’t hear how she turned down Suho-sunbaenim? The Student Body President?”

Bambam pouted. “Maybe she likes younger guys.”

“Yes, Bambam. One of the sexiest women in college prefers hormonal, freshman frat boys to the handsome Student Body President who has top international companies battling to recruit him once he graduates,” Jinyoung replied. He turned to Youngjae and nudged him. “Yah, will you please say something? This idiot is going to make us all look bad.”

“Jinyoung-hyung is kind of right,” Youngjae admitted. He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Jieun was extremely talented and attractive, but she also had a certain coldness about her that made her unapproachable. “In high school, she dated our Class President for over a year. He ended up going to Seoul University, he was that smart.”  

“I forgot that Youngjae-hyung went to high school with Kang Jieun,” Bambam mused. He grinned. “Is it true she used to be an idol trainee? With one of the big companies?”

Youngjae blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

“Why did she quit?”

“I don’t know. It not like we were close or anything,” Youngjae muttered. That was an understatement. Youngjae had been an extremely quiet and invisible person in high school and Jieun had been among the most popular girls. He had probably spoken to her a total of three or four times throughout high school. ‘She was popular back then, too. Although she was kind of different.”

“Different, how?” Bambam asked curiously.

Youngjae shrugged. “She was… nicer, I guess? Everyone liked her. This one time she got a modelling job, and she bought chocolates for the whole class with some of the money she earned. She seems colder now. I don’t know why she quit being an idol trainee. There were way too many contrasting rumours.”

Jinyoung smiled and nudged him. “You seem to remember a lot about her. Is there something you're not letting on?”

Youngjae flushed and laughed nervously. “What are you saying? She was just really popular. Don’t you remember the popular kids from your high school? Everyone does!”

Bambam pouted. “I think it’s a pity, hyung. If I had gone to high school with Kang Jieun-sunbaenim then I definitely would have used that as an excuse to talk to her in college. She might have remembered you, you could have actually gotten close to her! What a waste of an opportunity.”

“Yah. Weren’t you going to go hit on the dance club girls?”

Bambam’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s right! Okay, wish me luck, I’m going over to those freshman girls there. Phew.” He smoothed down his hair again and took a deep breath, before squaring his shoulders and walking off. Jinyoung and Youngjae watched him leave, amused. He was probably going to embarrass himself but they decided to leave him be.

“Yah, we’re out of plastic cups!” Jackson called out loudly, as the guys finished their round of beer pong. “Can someone get some more? I’m going to decimate you, Mark Tuan, just wait and see. We just need new cups.”

Youngjae volunteered to get them. He pushed his way through the crowded living room, past sweaty bodies dancing wildly to the loud music, and reached the kitchen. It was relatively empty in here. Most of the food was set out in the living room, anyway. Youngjae reached up to open a few cupboards. He could have sworn that there were extra stacks of plastic cups here. He’d bought them himself and put them in Jackson’s kitchen earlier. He was rummaging through Jackson’s boxes of muesli and protein bars, when he heard footsteps.

“Uh, excuse me?” a soft female voice asked.

Youngjae jumped, knocking over a few boxes of muesli. They fell to the floor and he turned around quickly, hurrying to pick them up as he looked at the figure standing in the doorway. It was Kang Jieun. His eyes widened at the sight of her. Jieun was standing quietly in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame.

“Uh-sorry- hi-“ Youngjae mumbled, nervously. He wondered why he was turning to complete mush in front of her, the way he used to in high school. Youngjae had gotten a lot more confident and relaxed since he started college, but the sight of Jieun made him feel like the invisible class nerd again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jieun said calmly, reaching down to help pick up a box and setting it on the counter. As she moved closer to him, Youngjae could smell fruity shampoo and a faint whiff of alcohol coming off her. His cheeks burned as he stared at her dark hair brushing her shoulders.  

“Uh-thanks-“

“I was just wondering if you knew where the bathroom was?” she asked, once they had picked up all the boxes. “It’s my first time in this apartment and I can’t seem to find it…”

“Oh. Uh, it’s down there, to the left. It’s in a corner so you wouldn’t notice it at first,” Youngjae explained, trying to cool down his beating heart. Stop it! She’s literally just asking you for directions, what are you so excited about? As Youngjae looked at her more closely, he noticed that her eyes were slightly unfocused. She was drunk.

“Thanks,” Jieun mumbled. She stumbled slightly as she walked out of the kitchen. Youngjae reached out to help her, but Jieun had already caught herself on the doorframe and managed to make her way out unsteadily. Youngjae stared after her for a few seconds, before shaking himself out of it.

Plastic cups, he reminded himself, hitting himself lightly on the side of the head. Jackson wants plastic cups. Find them, you idiot. Youngjae hurried to put the boxes of muesli back into the cupboard, silently wondering how Jackson could eat so much of it, as he hunted for the plastic cups again. He finally found a large stack tucked into a corner and pulled them out triumphantly. He was unwrapping the plastic wrapper around them, when someone entered the kitchen again.

“Um… sorry,” Jieun said as she leaned against the doorway again. One hand was clutching it tightly to keep herself upright. Youngjae nearly dropped the stack of cups, but managed to catch it again quickly. “Is there maybe another bathroom? There’s a couple having sex in that one and they’ve locked the door. I don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon.”

Youngjae made a face. “Jackson’s going to kill them. Uh… there’s actually just one bathroom in this apartment.”  

Jieun closed her eyes and leaned her head against the doorframe lightly. “Great,” she mumbled.

Youngjae cleared his throat as he looked at her nervously. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she seemed to be having trouble standing upright. He fumbled with the plastic cups in his hands. “But, um… if you really need to go… I live just down the hall, you could use the one in my apartment.”

Jieun opened her eyes to look at him slowly. “Really? It’s not a problem?”

“Of course not. I’ll come unlock my apartment for you.” he clutched the plastic cups tightly in his hands as he slowly walked out of the kitchen, gesturing for Jieun to follow him. She did, but she ended up tripping over her own two feet and clutching onto the wall to support herself again. “Are you okay?” Youngjae wondered, eyes widening as she straightened up slowly.

“Fine,” Jieun mumbled. “My legs turn to jelly when I get drunk. I’m fine.”

Youngjae nodded, but paused as they reached the crowd of people in the living room. Was she going to be able to weave through all these people when she could barely walk? He turned and looked at her doubtfully. “Uh- if you need help walking through here…”

Jieun silently grabbed hold of Youngjae’s shoulder to support herself as he pushed through the crowd of dancing people. He was extremely aware of her touch. Her slender fingers were gripping onto his shoulder and when someone pushed her, Jieun’s other hand came up and grabbed Youngjae’s t-shirt. By the time they had made it to the front door of the apartment, his face was flushed red. Jieun slowly let go of him.

“Are you okay?” Youngjae asked once they stepped out into the hallway. It was surprisingly cooler out here and much emptier. The smell of sweat and alcohol and the loud music was gone. He turned to look at her face, checking if she was fine.

Jieun nodded. “I’m not as drunk as I look,” she reassured him calmly. It was true. Her speech wasn’t even remotely slurred and her eyes seemed fine. “I only drank a little, but it just goes straight to my legs somehow. My brain is fine, but my body just loses balance.”

“Surprising for a dancer,” Youngjae said quietly, as he led the way down the empty hallway. Jieun followed him slowly, one hand against the wall to balance her shaky footsteps. Part of Youngjae wished she would grab onto him again, but he knew it was a too much to hope for.

“You're Choi Youngjae, right?” Jieun asked suddenly.

Youngjae whirled around, eyes wide. She knew him? “Uh-“

“Why do you look so surprised? We went to high school together,” Jieun replied. She pushed her hair out of her face lightly, looking down at her own shaky steps to balance herself. “We were even in the same class. You played piano once during the school play.”

Youngjae’s heartbeat was thudding. “Yeah, I just… didn’t think you would remember. I was kind of invisible back then. We didn’t really hang out with the same crowd.”

Jieun smiled bitterly. “Some crowd. Half of them stopped talking to me once I quit being a trainee. They probably just hung around because they thought I would be famous one day. Must have been a disappointment to them; they wasted all their time with me.” She turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you would at least come say hi, since we joined the same university.”

Youngjae cleared his throat. “I… I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“Hmm. People must think I’m a real bitch, huh?” she mumbled.

“What? No, not at all-“

“It’s fine. Forget it.”

Youngjae found himself feeling flustered as they reached his apartment door and he fumbled with his keys to unlock it. He had never even thought of approaching Jieun because he was confident she wouldn’t care about him. Yet, somehow, there was something in her eyes that looked almost hurt. He fumbled with the lock a few times before finally managing to open the door. He grabbed for the light switch and clicked it on.

“Uh- come on inside…”

Jieun followed him quietly. His apartment was slightly messy, and Youngjae flushed as he quickly pointed her towards the bathroom. “It’s right through there.”

“Thanks,” Jieun mumbled.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

“Youngjae-ssi! Can you get us some extra paper from the storeroom?”

Youngjae bit his lip as he hurried down the school corridor to fetch whatever they needed from the storeroom. Their class was preparing for the school festival and he was often stuck doing mundane tasks like these. It was a result of his lack of any particular talent, as well as his inability to say no to people.

He reached the storeroom, but noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. There was smooching noises coming from inside and Youngjae’s ears turned red as he heard a female voice let out a slight whimper. Was a couple making out inside? What had he just walked into? He took a step back.

“Oppa- oppa, stop. I told you, we need to talk,” the girl whispered faintly. Youngjae's eyes widened. There was no mistaking that voice, it was Kang Jieun. She sounded a little strained and there was more smooching sounds. “Oppa, please.”

“We can talk later,” the male voice whispered. There was no mistaking that either; it was the Class President and Jieun’s boyfriend. Jieun and Min-jun had been dating for over a year; everyone knew about them. It was hardly a secret, they were one of the most popular couples in school. “I haven’t seen you in so long, you’re always practicing at your company-“

“I know,” Jieun mumbled. “But I need to talk to you about this.”

Min-jun sounded slightly annoyed. “Okay, hurry up then. The teacher’s going to start looking for us soon.”

Jieun took a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know how to tell you this,” she whispered quietly. “But the company’s been putting a lot of pressure on me lately. This one freshman girl told my trainer that I’m dating someone from school. They want me to break up with you. The trainer says I won’t be considered for the debut team unless I end my relationship.” Her voice was cracking. “Oppa, I don’t know what to do, it’s been driving me insane-“

Min-jun was silent for a moment. “You must have known this was going to happen.”

“I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” Jieun admitted. “I thought I could hide it from them for a bit longer. Oppa, if we manage to convince people we’ve broken up and stay away from each other for a couple of weeks then maybe we can start seeing each other again-“

“Forget it,” Min-jun said with a dry chuckle. “Let’s just take this as a sign and stop it here. I need to start focusing on my college entrance  exams too, so it’s for the best.”

Jieun sounded unsure. “Exams… but those are months away. You want to take a break for that long?”

“No, I’m saying let’s end it here.”

“End…” she trailed off. “But until when?”

Min-jun laughed. “Yah, are you stupid? End as in, end. We would have broken up after graduation anyway. It’s not like we would have lasted. I’m going to Seoul University and you’re either going to debut as an idol or model or whatever you want. It wasn’t as if this was serious, we were just fooling around.”

“Fooling around?” Jieun repeated.

“Don’t tell me you thought we would last beyond high school!” Min-jun exclaimed.

“I did,” she said firmly. “We’ve been dating for a whole year-“

“So, what? It was fun, I like you. But there was never any future here, Jieun. It’s not my fault. You’re the one that wants to debut as an idol, expose your body on tv for horny men to lust after. Things like that are only cool in high school, Jieun-ah. People at Seoul University will laugh at me if I tell them my girlfriend is an air-headed idol that uses her sex appeal to get famous.”

Jieun sounded angry. “I thought you supported my career choices.”

“I do. You’re talented.”

“Then how dare you-“

“At least develop some self-awareness, Jieun,” Min-jun said sharply. “Half the guys here might want to sleep with you. But find me a single one that would be willing to introduce you to their mothers. You did this to yourself, don’t blame me.”

There was a long silence.

“Sorry, Jieun-ah. Good luck with your career.”

There was a noise from inside the storeroom and Youngjae froze. He quickly ducked around the corner and hid himself as the door opened and Min-jun walked out. His footsteps disappeared down the corridor and faded away. Youngjae came out from behind his hiding place and paused in front of the storeroom door.

He could hear quiet sobs from inside. Youngjae peeked in through the gap in the door and spotted Jieun sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest and hair covering her face as she sobbed silently. He stared at her for a few minutes, fingers frozen on the door handle, before silently deciding to walk away. It was none of his business.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

My entire body reacts, it reacts first,

When I see you, when I hear your voice.

It keeps reacting, it reacts again

I really don’t want to, but what do I do?

I can’t control myself.

Jieun splashed water on her face in the bathroom sink and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were slightly red from the alcohol, but she looked fine otherwise. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She hated thinking about high school. Why did this Youngjae person have to show up in front of her today? He was only bringing up unpleasant memories.

Youngjae seemed to have changed too, though. Jieun remembered him as a quiet, shy guy that sat in the back of class and somehow got taken advantage of by all the other boys. He’d really hit the jackpot in college. He was friends with people like Jackson Wang and Im Jaebum. Not to mention, Youngjae seemed to have attained some sort of late puberty and become surprisingly more handsome after high school.  

Jieun shook her head and wiped her face dry before stepping out of the bathroom. The cold water had sobered her up a little and she felt confident enough to walk home.

She found Youngjae sitting in the living room. He was cross-legged on the couch, making kissy faces at a tiny little white dog that was yapping at his feet. It was adorable and Jieun couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of it. She approached the couch quietly and the little dog broke out of Youngjae’s grip to come over and sniff at Jieun’s feet suspiciously.

“Ah-sorry-“ Youngjae apologized.

“It’s fine, he’s adorable,” Jieun replied, reaching down to pick up the dog in her arms. Deciding that she was still a little unsteady on her feet, she quickly sat down on the couch and placed the sniffing dog on her lap. “What’s his name?”

“Coco,” Youngjae replied. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You like dogs?”

“To be honest, only the small ones. Big ones scare me,” she admitted with a shrug. Jieun smiled as Coco pushed his nose into her hand. “So it’s a little presumptuous of me to claim to be a dog lover. This guy’s cute, though.”

Youngjae nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked nervous and he bit his lip. “Actually, I want to say something to you. Earlier… when you were saying that I didn’t come and greet you once we started college? I wanted to apologize for that. I honestly didn’t mean to offend you. I realize now that it was kind of rude of me not to greet a classmate.”

Jieun smiled bitterly as she patted the top of Coco’s head. “What are you apologizing for? It’s not as if I bothered to come up and talk to you.” she shook her head. “That’s not true. I probably avoided you on purpose. High school is just bad memories, I wanted a new start. I wanted to hang around with people who knew nothing about me.”

“Ah… well, it’s not as if I knew much about you to begin with.”

Jieun sighed and turned to look at him. There was something about Youngjae that instantly made her feel comfortable, like he was trustworthy. Youngjae seemed like the kind of guy who couldn’t hurt a fly. People like him made Jieun feel ashamed of her own selfishness.

“Well, as long as we’re being honest,” she said quietly, “I guess I should thank you for not spreading rumours about me. In high school, and in college. I’m sure a lot of people would have been interested in hearing about how Min-jun and I broke up.”

Youngjae blinked. “What?”

“You were the one listening outside the storeroom the day he dumped me, right? I saw you. You paced around outside for a bit while I was crying, and then you left.” Jieun sighed and stroked Coco softly. “Waah, it’s still humiliating no matter how much I think about it. Thanks for not telling anyone.”

“It’s not…” Youngjae flushed and cleared his throat. “It was none of my business.”

“If only everyone thought like you.”

There was a brief silence and the only sound was Coco yapping happily as he tried to climb further up Jieun’s chest. Youngjae sat frozen in his seat, fists clenched and palms sweaty. He turned and looked at Jieun firmly, a burst of confidence coming over him. “I don’t think you should have felt humiliated, though. Min-jun was the one who was wrong.”

Jieun laughed harshly. “He wasn’t wrong. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t wrong.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” she replied with a sharp glance towards Youngjae. “I’ve yet to find a guy to prove Min-jun wrong. Did you know that there’s a video of me performing Sunmi’s 24 Hours circulating among the freshmen frat boys? I’m told some of them use it to masturbate.” She laughed and shook her head. “And you know the worst part? I don’t even care anymore. I’ve gone beyond the point of shame. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

Youngjae was silent.

“I’m worse than you thought, aren’t I?” Jieun asked with a dry chuckle. She slowly set Coco down on the floor and stood up. “Anyway, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll head out now.”

“If they’re using it to masturbate, then they’re sick,” Youngjae replied firmly. “I don’t see how it reflects on you in any way. I don’t think your problem is how other people see you. I think your problem is how you see yourself.”

Jieun turned and glared at him. “And how do I see myself?”

“The same way guys like Min-jun see you,” Youngjae replied quietly. He stood up and stepped closer to her. Jieun’s eyes were sharp, but there was something that wavered in them as he moved nearer. “But I don’t think you should. I think you should see yourself the way I saw you,” he said quietly.

“And how did you see me?”

“I saw that you were willing to risk your career to be with him. I saw that you loved him a lot, and that no matter how much attention you got, you were always faithful to him. You weren’t as cold and bitter back then. Even now, I think it’s a front.” He took a deep breath. “Because when people are accusing you of something, it’s sometimes easier to give in and accept what they’re saying than take the efforts to prove them wrong.”

Jieun looked up at him silently. She could see Youngjae’s lips trembling. He was clearly nervous, he wasn’t used to speaking to people this way. Even now, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes as he wondered if he’d gone too far, crossed some sort of line. Jieun stepped closer to him and slid her hands up his chest slowly. Youngjae shuddered as one of her hands slid to the back of his neck, fingers grasping gently at his hair. His heartbeat was thudding.

“You say all that,” Jieun whispered softly. Her other hand fisted in his shirt near his collar. “But you’re just as physically attracted to me as any other frat boy here. I can feel your heartbeat thudding.”

Youngjae closed his eyes. “I never said you weren’t attractive.”

“Then?”

“You are attractive and sexy. But I think there’s more to you inside than you let yourself show. You’re nervous too. You’re not as cold as you look. My words are affecting you.”

Jieun moved closer until she could feel his nervous breath against her skin. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck consistently and she looked up at him. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“I-I’m sure.”

“Are you willing to risk it?” she asked again. “You might regret this.”

“I won’t.”

To prove it, he leaned forward and kissed her first. Jieun’s lips were soft and warm, and she let out a soft gasp as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Youngjae felt his head spinning. Part of him couldn’t believe this was happening, but he forced himself to stay calm. He kissed her softly, gently. Jieun felt her heartbeat thud. She had never been kissed that way before. I’m going to love you, his lips told her soundlessly. There was something pure about his embrace that made her feel warm inside.

“What if I change my mind tomorrow?” Jieun asked quietly, as she pulled away. Youngjae’s lips were pressing against her jawline softly, leaving butterfly kisses that made her skin tingle. “What if I leave in the morning and never look at you again?”

Youngjae looked down at her softly.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’m going to believe that you won’t.”

But, I still had a small belief that you will love me,

So even when I gave you my all,

It didn’t feel like a waste.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

[avidfanficwriter]

Cleansing the Awkward Air

 James McAvoy X OFC. 

Summary: James McAvoy is a gentleman. 

Authors Note: So, i had this idea and didn’t know who to put in it! then i was watching a few James McAvoy interviews mainly because I just watched Split and was going nose deep in interviews. (I’m weird, i don’t like watching interviews before i see the movie) and He can be hella dirty and funny, especially on Graham Norton (But come on who isn’t?) anyway that’s where this came from. 

The night before was a blur... more a lost memory, actually. 

There was one thing that was obvious due to the pounding in Natalia’s head and bloodshot color of her eyes, she had been drinking. Her surrounding are her own, thankfully. Her own bed, her home and still in her clothes... some of her clothes. It seems last night, she’d also tried to get out of her pants before falling asleep but only managed to get one leg out of her jeans. 

It’s the worst way she’s woken up, a few years ago, she woke up in another state with some guy she had apparently slept with. Alcohol and her were never a great combination, her inhibitions were low and her sex drive was high. The most surprising part however was that she’d actually made it home in one piece. It wasn’t like she was twenty-one again, she was nearing thirty-one but the minute her lips touched alcohol, it was down hill from there. 

Natalia pulls herself out of bed which took three tires before she was successfully on he standing upright. Slowly, she walks out of the room, not bothering to check her hair; she knows it’s a mess. Her dark curls would be a mess, sticking up in odd places, flat in the other; it’s the last thing on her mind. Her objective at the moment is to get aspirin and something to drink which are both unconventionally located down stairs in the hallway closet. If her head wasn’t on the verge of killing her she’d ignore it and go back to bed. Each step down the stairs was long and ridiculous, she mentally cursed herself for buying a two story home. 

Resting on the railing is a man’s jacket and suddenly she finds herself questioning if she did manage to get home alone. she takes a few steps closer and recognizes the jacket, It’s James’ thankfully. Little by little she remembers the events that took place last night. 

James’ was on vacation... or a break as he claimed but considered the growth of his beard, it was a vacation. James was in town and to celebrate they decided to have a night drinking, which didn’t work out much either. She worked late and they couldn’t get to the bar so instead they drank whatever was left in her house. She grabs a hold of his jacket, clutching it tightly into her hands as she walks down the stairs. At the bottom she can hear the television playing, some news channel and smell freshly brewed coffee. 

 “Well, look whose come to join the living?” A Scottish accent shouts from inside the kitchen. James is standing at the kitchen counter, a blue mug of coffee in his hand, steaming. He’s got a large smile on his face.

“You been here all night?” She asks, quietly. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” She groans and walks into the kitchen, slowly slumping into the chair at the counter. 

“Coffee? Aspirin?” James asks with a quiet tone. 

“Mm-hmm.” She responds nodding her head. James passes the pill bottle towards her and his mug of coffee. She opens the bottle, though it’d taken her longer than she would like to admit. “God, how much did we drink last night?”

“I didn’t drink nearly as much as you did.” James says with a chuckle. 

“I wasn’t that drunk.” She tries to argue. 

“You tried to sleep with me.” James draws out, purposely making his accent thicker. 

She jerks her head in his direction. “Bull shit.” 

James steps closer, leaning on the counter. “No shit.” 

She cocks her head, taking a small sip of James’ coffee. “No, I didn’t.” 

James chuckles. “You were on your knees, trying to undo my belt... you didn’t succeed but I give you an A for effort.” 

Slowly, her eyes grow in size until it looks like their going to fall out of her skull when the memories come flooding back. 

“Oh, come on, Jamesy! You’ve thought about it.” Natalia said in a sensual voice, trailing her fingers up his chest. “Just laying me down and plowing me.” 

“No. No, I haven’t.” He said gently pushing her towards the stairs. 

“Oh, don’t lie.” She toys with the hem of his t-shirt, inching her hand down to his jeans and suddenly, she drops to her knees and attempts to pull his belt off. 

“Nat...” he says with a laugh. He puts his hands on her shoulders trying to cease her actions she doesn’t give in.

“Jesus Christ.” Natalia mutters under her breath. They weren’t close by any means, they had night outs every now and then rare occurrences, usually when James found himself stuck in L.A. for the night with no flight to London available.   “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

James walks over to her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s okay.” 

“I tried to--” She stops mid sentence. “Did i take my pants off?” 

James bites his lower lip. “You tried too.”

Natalia looks up at him, her green eyes peering up at him. “Tried too?” 

“You almost fell down the stairs trying to get your pants off.” The entire time he speaks, he looks like he’s trying to not burst out laughing. “I wound up having to pick you up and basically toss you into your bed.” 

“Oh...” She says nodding her head, still shocked by her actions. 

“At least you kept everything else on.” He says trying to lighten the mod. 

“Yeah but i made a fool of myself.” She says putting her head into her hands. “What are you doing here still?” 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Well, you should go home before I try to jump you again.” 

James smiles, tapping her back and planting a small kiss on the top of her head. A few hours later, Natalia’s phone goes off with James’ ringtone and she sighs, slowly making her way to answer the phone. 

“Hello.” Natalia says holding the phone up to her hair. 

“Hey.” The Scottish man says over the phone. “What are you doing tonight?” 

“I’m going out to stop thinking about what i did last night.” 

“So you can do it with someone else?” He says loudly, hiding a chuckle. 

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” she interjects slightly annoyed. 

“No.”

After further deliberation, she looses her battle and James once again whines up accompanying her to bar. Where her intent to drink away  the memories of attempting to seduce failed as he was right next to her, reminding her of that very moment.  Which wasn’t helping. 

“You know, you’re very clumsy when you’re horny.” James says as they approach the counter. 

“I haven’t even had a drink yet.” She drops into the bar stool with James doing the same right next to her. They each order one beer to start only this time Natalia was positive that she would only have four beers minimum, more if James left but that option didn’t seem very likely. 

“When do you go back home?” She asks trying to change the subject. 

“Don’t know yet.”  Unfortunately, it didn’t work. There was still this silence in between the two. An overwhelming silence, the only thing on Natalia’s mind is that she made a move on James the night before. 

“What about your next movie? What are you doing?” She tries again. 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“Come on, James, try!” She argues, putting her head flatly on the counter in annoyance. 

“I apologize.” he says raising his hands. “Truly, darling. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, what about the girl you were seeing. What happened to her?” Natalia asks. 

“She doesn’t understand the life of an actor.” James sighs and takes a sip of his beer. “Didn’t understand my hours.”

“I’m sorry.” She says, quietly. 

“Me too.” 

“Is that the same girl that you did it with in the back of her car?” 

James nods, sucking in a breathe between his teeth. 

“Classy.” 

“Just about as classy as you wanting to have sex with me last night, love.” James says with a smile. 

“Hey, hey, hey, I was drunk. I would’ve asked to sleep with anyone.” 

“Yes, because every time you’re drunk you always beg me to fuck you.” 

“I do not.” She’s quick to say, proving his point. “How do you know that I was just really drunk and hadn’t gotten any lately? You being the only guy I saw well?” 

“Please?” James says, scrunching his face. “With this body?”

She rolls her eyes, “Let’s just say--hypothetically; that I wanted to have sex why the hell would i choose you just for...’ she rolls her eyes. ‘your body?” 

James’ jaw drop and he looks at her offended. “Why not? I’m sexy. I’m popular with the ladies, might even be packing some impressive equipment.” He gives her a smirk. 

Natalia stares at him blankly. “That’s why you let me try to get into your pants, huh?” 

“If you got it, show it.” James says, putting the beer bottle to his lips before quickly bringing it down. “But I didn’t do anything back.” 

“And why is that? A woman begging for you, doesn’t float your boat?” She asks, tapping her beer.

He shrugs his shoulders, smiling. “I prefer the women, I sleep with to be in the right state of mind.” 

“Ah, you’re one of those men huh? ‘are you sure?’ ‘are you positive you want this?’ every five minutes?”

“Of course, I’m a gentleman.” 

“Boring.” James shakes his head. “You should have just done it. Now it’s all awkward.” 

“How so?” 

“I basically tried to do you or have you do me and now it’s like all we can speak about when we see one another. I regret it, you are awkward. We should just do it to clear the damn air.” She jokes, by every account it’s a joke but her eyes give her away and her nearly chokes on his drink because of it. 

“You’re serious?” James asks. 

“Why not? We’re not that close. We hang out every now and then. It’d be simple. Plus...” She says, taking another swig of her beer. “it’d clear the air.” 

James ponders his answer for a while, watching her drink her beer slowly. “What are you trying to get me to agree too?”

“Nothing. She says smiling. “Ready to go?” 

They leave and James drives her home, it’s the proper thing to do rather than force her into a cab but they don’t say anything to one another. Natalia doesn’t even look at him or in his direction; she stares out the window or occasionally at her phone. When they arrive at her house, he shuts off the car and looks at her. 

“Thanks, James.” she says giving him a smile and opening the door. She walks out without another word but it’s what she said to him at the bar that repeat in his head. “ We should just do it to clear the damn air.” It baffles him, she wasn’t serious. There was no way she was but it looms over his head. He nibbles on his lower lip with frustration before he practically launches himself out of his truck. 

“Stalking me now, officer?” She asks without turning to face him. It’s a reference to his newest movie where he plays a police officer. She digs into her pocket presumable for her key. 

“Just making sure you get in safely.” James finally says. 

“Well...” She says, turning to face him her key sticking out of her hand. “I’m safe.” 

“That you are.’ He says stopping just a few feet in front of her. 

She smiles. “Night James.” 

“Night, Natalia.” If he had a hat, he would’ve tipped it but there was two problems with that, one: he’s Scottish they don’t wear the type of hats you tip and two: her eyes are stuck on his. It’s a problem. The desire is starting to grow and suddenly he can’t stop thinking about her lips. How bright and plump they are or to make matters worse, how much he’d like to kiss them, suck on them if given the chance. Not to mention how much he’d love to leave a trail of hickeys down her neck to her collar bone all while his hands roamed her body. 

She starts to turn most likely going to put the key in the lock but it's that finale movement that gets him. The sway of her hips that causes him to decide. "Fuck it." he says harshly through his teeth. He rushes towards her before she can properly turn around. He didn't waste any more time, he finds her mouth with his own and kisses her.

She's taken by shock but it's gone the second his hand starts to trail up her shirt, his rough palm kneading at her side puts her in play. She kisses him back just as rough. He forces her into the house, the shingles shaking with the impact and he inches closer to her, spreading her legs with his own so he lean into her comfortably. His arousal is pressed right into her and he does exactly what he wanted too, trailing his tongue down her neck emitting a moan from her smaller frame.

He hears the key clink with impact at the floor and feels her hands tightly wrap around his broad shoulders, the tips of her fingers digging into his back. He would take her right there if he could. If her house wasn’t surrounded by neighbors, if there wasn’t the tiniest chance one of them could peek out their window and spot them. He'd toss her clothes off and have his way with her but she deserves privacy. James parts, pulling himself away from her against all his primal urges, he rests his forehead on hers and curses.

"That fucking key." James groans, breathing deeply before giving her a quick kiss. "Don't move." he commands. Then he bends down and retrieves the key, pushing it into the key hole and unlocking the door with little effort. He opens the door quickly, pulling her inside and slamming the door behind him.

James was a quiet man, he could make a room fill with laughter and also manage to be the quietest person in the room.  It was how he operated but there was things he was letting out, unknowingly.  Like how he kissed, it was hard and demanding. Nothing about it was intimate from pulling her lower lip in between his teeth to bite then run his tongue over the slightly swollen spot. He kissed like he couldn't get enough, like she was a drug.

Inside is another story, there were no strangers or nosy neighbors to watch. There wasn't a possibility of being caught meaning there was no reason to wait. He pulled her into him roughly, lighting her shirt from her body while his hands trailed down her body. Then her pants, unbuttoning them quickly. He cursed the inventor of skinny jeans and openly detested the layer of clothes she wore.

They move to the couch, shedding clothes with each step they take until they're bare. Inches from the moment they--he was longing for. She's underneath him, his body hovering over hers.

Beyond the sharp inhale of air and the small grunts they're quiet. Her nails scratch along his forearm as he moves, slowly at first. He felt high. Like he was on cloud nine. The whimpers from her only edged him further, he repeated his movements faster this time. A thin layer of sweat gathered on his back and arms as he gave into the pleasure. He laid his hand flatly against the cushion beneath her head and the other on the back of the couch.

He'd be lying if he didn't think about this moment in the past, he wanted her; she invaded his dreams. He longed for her far more than he'd like to admit. The night before when she was begging for him, it took all his strength to not give in. Only now, was another story, she wasn’t sober but she wasn’t drunk either, she was perfectly aware of what they were doing. He felt her hand slide up his arm onto his back pulling him closer while she lifted her hips to match his thrusts. James could hear the sound of their skin slapping and feel the warmth and tightness pool in his stomach but he'd be damned to hell, if he came before her.

James slammed into her wrapping his arms around her body and lifting her from the couch to roll. He sits on the couch with her in his lap and forces himself inside of her once again. She sinks onto him with a loud moan and curses, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and moving. 

He leans back taking in the sight, snapping a mental picture of her.

"Jesus." She says breathlessly. He smiles and drives himself into her forcing her head to fall back and her mouth to drop open. Her moans grow louder and her grip around him tightens as she falls apart in his arms, her body trembles around him. James falls in love with the sight before him, her chest heaving and her mouth wide open with her body unable to contain the euphoria. He pumps himself in her a few more times, holding her body tightly. It's the last few words she says that make him fall overboard.

"Fuck.. James." She says and he's lost. the control he once had is gone and he falls. Driving himself into her one last time while he rests his head in the croak of her neck and groans as he cums. Her fingers lace in his hair as she breathes out deeply. 

“If we’d done this yesterday, you wouldn’t have remembered it.” James says quietly. 

“Who says that?” She says leaning back to face him. 

He glances up at her, smiling. “Because some of the things, you told me last would make a grown man cry.” 

“I was drunk.” 

“I’m noticing a theme with you.” 

She smiles, “What’s that?” 

“You’re much more open when you get alcohol in you.”

“You’re quick when you’re drunk.” Natalia says, grinding her hips to further her point. 

“How would you know that?” He asks, confused. 

"I’m guessing.” She smirks as James pulls her head down to capture her lips in a deep kiss. She lets out a small moan and rakes her nails down his chest once again igniting the flame between them. 

[def-initely-soul]

What A Small World Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N: heeeey everyone! I know some of you are going to kill me for not posting the next part of Blood Relations buuuut… this is a birthday gift to my homegirl @chessireneko . It was originally gonna be a one shot, buuuut…. I got caught up to the story a little to much so… I guess this is my next series!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE AND I WISH YOU ALL HAPPINESS AND LOVE (insert Mark Tuan here) 💓💓💓

Pictures in the moodboard aren’t mine, taken out of Pinterest.

Words: 5639

Pairing: Mark/Reader

Warnings: mature themes, mentions of alcohol/drugs, implication of attempted rape (okay, I know this seems bad but it’s your standard University AU)

In your high school days,  if someone told you, you would meet your childhood friend again in college, you would have been ecstatic.

But now… Now it is slightly different.

Mark Tuan turned out to be your worst nightmare.

When you first arrived at your college dorms, you felt overwhelmed. 

Being the first time you were away from your home for so long terrified you, but also brought a tingling sense of excitement. The thought of the unknown and experiences yet to be lived managed to overlap the longing you began to feel for your home the moment it was out of reach. You had spent all your life there, in the outskirts of your little town. It was there where you had your first friend, where you had gone to school, where you had shared your first kiss, where you learned that kissing wasn’t the only thing you could do with another person. You had experienced joys and heartbreaks, success and fails and now that you are more than half the country away, you missed it all. Even the bad stuff.

But these nostalgic thoughts came to an end when you attended your first day of classes.

Having a dorm room entirely to yourself would be considered by most a blessing,  but the first days of your stay here, it only managed to make you feel more lonely. You were used to living in a boisterous environment, as your parents were two of the loudest people you knew, so when you were met with the solitude of your empty room, it rested uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, resulting in a small case of homesickness. So when in your first day of classes you reunited with an old high school friend, you were beyond excited.

You remember Nora clearly through your high school years; besides she was one of the most popular girls in school. Always knew how to dress and act, with politeness and kindness towards everyone and not just her close friends, as people of her ‘status’ often seemed to do. 

In school you never were really close, only sharing the typical ‘hi-s’ and ‘goodbye-s’, at the start and end of school, respectively. You were from different statuses, so a friendship between the two of you was as normal as the sun coming out from the west. It was nothing personal, just the way things worked in high school. 

But in college, where such tactics and customs were nothing but childhood memories to most, a friendship bloomed between the two of you. At first, it was the need for something familiar inside a yet unknown life, for both of you and seeing a known face was like a lifeline. But as you both began to feel more comfortable in each other’s presence, you both realized you had more in common than what you had believed in high school. 

Both of you had a taste for bad horror movies and nights in. The sci-fi genre was your ‘go-to’ as long as it concerned books and you came to realize that 90’s pop was the guilty pleasure of you both. It occurred to you this was the first time you had clicked with another person, this well.  You had never felt this close to anyone before, not even your high school friends who lost contact the moment your roads parted. Maybe your parents, or a childhood friend you can barely remember.

And it wasn’t only because of your shared interests. You both understood one another in things no one did before. It was like you found your platonic soulmate.

But even platonic soulmates have their differences. One specific difference that came in the form of a party on a late Friday night.

“Come oooon, Y/N! It’s just a party!” Nora whines in front of your closet, as she goes through your clothes, brushing aside anything she deems unsuitable for a party. And that makes up more than half your wardrobe.

“It’s never just a party. I can assure you it will result in drugs, weed, regrettable drunk sex and eventually the police shutting it down. Besides Gamma Omicron Tau is the organizer…” you murmur bitterly from your bed, where you sit with your laptop in your lap, ready for binge-watching the latest episodes of your favorite show. 

The Gamma Omicron Tau is the college equivalent of your typical high school jocks. Only with more time, energy, money and sex drive, with not one brain in sight to compensate for their lack of morals.

Needless to say, you don’t like them.

Nora turns to look at you, incredulously. “That’s what a party is!” she announces, before returning once again to your clothes. “Come on, I promise you’ll have fun. That’s what college is supposed to be for!” she exclaims dramatically.

“I thought it was for achieving higher education and academic success…” you reply, uninterested as you click the first episode.

“Well, yeah, that too” Nora turns to look at you and as soon as she sees the opening of the episode, she rushes to you and lowers the laptop’s screen so it closes with a click. “You are coming to the party. I won’t take no for an answer!” she announces, her eyes serious on you, as she places the laptop on the bed away from you, and she drags you to your closet.

“I’ll only ruin your fun. Besides I have nothing to wear!” you screech in a last attempt to make her leave you be, but you realize your mistake as soon as Nora pulls that dress out of your mess of clothes.

She turns to look at you with arched eyebrows.

You scoff, nervously. “This… I would never wear this…” you stutter.

Nora tilts her head to the side unamused. “Then why did we buy it?” she inquires, her leg tapping on the floor, a motion you had come to recognize as a sign of impatience. You gulp.

“Because you insisted on me buying it after you practically forced me to wear it! Where I clearly told you it wasn’t my kind of thing�� you insist, trying to get away from her grip to return to your Netflix session. Unsuccessfully that is.

“Yeah, cause as I recall you looked like a man’s wet dream” Nora shoves the dress towards you and you catch it just in time before it falls to the floor.

“Put it on. Then I’ll apply makeup to you and we’re leaving” she declares strictly as she walks to your pack of cosmetics on your desk.

“B-b-but-”

“No buts! You’re coming, you’re gonna have fun and that’s final! Aaaand you’ll probably get laid too!”

At the last words, you laugh. “Yeah, sure, whatever…” you mumble as you reluctantly start to change.

Nora raises her head to respond, but as soon as she sees you changing she’s satisfied, so she says nothing.

God, you already feel like you’re gonna regret this.

Half an hour later, finds you and Nora walking towards the Gamma Omicron Tau house. The building is booming from the loud music, with an ocean of people that keeps entering it. You see guys with perfectly styled clothes and girls with minis and high heels. You’re glad you at least wore your army boots, instead of stilettos as Nora had originally suggested. It was the only thing you didn’t back down to for today’s occasion.

Although it may be a high contrast to the little red dress you’re wearing.

You still don’t know why you agreed on buying this. It is a short, satin, burgundy dress with a deep sweetheart neckline. Its off-shoulder straps are hanging loosely on your arms, as the dress hugs you tightly in all the places you wish it wouldn’t.

When you saw yourself in the mirror, with your hair tied in a loose knot at the base of your neck, you liked it. Admittedly very much. But from the moment you stepped out of the dorms, your insecurities began to bug you. What if you show too much skin? What if the dress doesn’t look good on you, after all? What if? What if? What if?

Nora, sensing your discomfort, links your arms together. “You’re gorgeous, ok? I would be surprised if no one tries to talk to you tonight” she says, more calmly than earlier with a soft smile on her features.

“Well, then… Prepare for the surprise of your life…” you half-joke as you begin to fix your dress in order to hide more skin.

Nora huffs in annoyance. “I swear to god, one day I’m gonna slap you…” she says as you move towards the entrance.

You smile. “As if you haven’t done that already….” you joke and Nora nudges you playfully on the ribs, as you enter the house.

The party is huge.

In every corner there are people dancing, drinking, smoking, making out or all four. From the moment you enter the building the distinct smell of alcohol and smoke fills your nostrils, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust. 

The only way you’re getting through this is with alcohol. 

So the both of you make your way towards the kitchen where the bar is, to grab two cans of beer and then you move to a more open space where the real party is taking place. The lights are dim and the music coming from the speakers engulfs the room, as everyone dances to the beat of the current song. The smells of sweat and smoke mix together, and as time passes by, with you downing one beer after the other, it bothers you less and less.

You and Nora remain through most of the party in that room, talking and scanning the place for anyone recognizable. 

It’s then when you feel as if someone’s eyes are on you. It’s that shivering feeling that travels up your spine and causes you to turn around to spot the source of that feeling.

At first, you don’t see him, due to the haziness that has taken over your senses. But as your vision starts to clear, you notice him. Notice him and wonder why haven’t you before.

You first observe the way he’s standing. He’s leaning against the wall, one leg pressed against it and his hands are crossed upon his chest in a leisured fashion but not quite. It resembles the calm before the storm. The eerie serenity before the hunter attacks his prey. Which, in this case, is you.

He’s wearing black faded jeans with rips and holes in them. Above them hangs loosely a black band T-shirt, but as it reaches his chest, it becomes tighter, and you gulp at the thought of what could be underneath the fabric. 

Then your eyes move to his hair. It is a perfect shade of ashy blonde, thoroughly disheveled that calls you to feel it underneath your fingertips. His ears are adorned with multiple loop earrings, a sight that honestly turns you on more than you’d like to admit. 

And when your eyes travel to his face you realize the boy is gorgeous. His lean figure expands to his face as well, with slim features and defined cheekbones. His pink lips are tight in an almost smirk as he stares at you.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes.

They are a very dark shade of brown, almost black. The intensity of his gaze keeps you still, like a deer caught in headlights, as you feel your body getting hot. His eyes travel your body, from your head to your toes and then back to your eyes, approvingly. And when your eyes meet again, he smirks darkly at you, as he bites his lower lip.

You feel your cheeks flush and a familiar feeling expanding in the pit of your stomach, as you quickly look away, embarrassed.

Nora doesn’t seem to notice, as she continues scanning the place for a potential partner for the night. And then she finds one.

“Hey, Y/N, look over there!” she almost yells in your ear, to be heard over the music as she discreetly points to a slightly buff man with white blonde hair, who just know walked into the room with two cans of beer. You look back at Nora questioningly.

She smiles a wicked grin. “We’ve been looking at each other for over half an hour…” she says, conspiringly. Your eyes widen with shock.

“Already? Well, what am I supposed to do now?” you reply. Nora nudges you.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone, stupid…” she whispers, as said man makes his way towards you. Nora, of course, isn’t gonna leave you alone. But as you look at the man approaching, you realize you’ll ruin the mood, so you make the decision to let them be, as you roll your eyes.

“You can thank me tomorrow with breakfast…” you say, as you begin to walk away, leaving her the chance to actually be alone with him. Nora stares at you wide-eyed before she opens her mouth to protest. But just as she’s about to talk she feels a hand resting on her waist, as said man stops beside her.

“Have fun!” you yell, trying to be heard over the music. You’re not sure if Nora heard, but she just throws you a grateful smile before she turns her attention to the man next to her.

As you walk away, you quickly pick up your phone to send a message.

[You, 1:34]: have fun take precautions and don’t hesitate to call me if something happens. I’m gonna take a stroll around the house so when you’re ready to go just hit me up :)

You hit send and wait for Nora’s reply.

After not even a minute later she replies.

[Norababe, 1:35]: you got it babe. Srsly thanks ;)

You smile at the screen and then you put your phone back in your purse. Since you have nothing to do now, you flirt with the idea of talking to that stranger from before. The one that seemed to eat you with his eyes.

You decide to risk your chances with him. Besides Nora said you might get laid tonight and that actually isn’t a bad idea. It’s been a long time since you had sex and well… you missed it. But as you turn around to find him, you see the spot empty and the boy is nowhere to be found.

Great, what are you gonna do for the rest of the party?

It turns out the house has a lot of unused rooms. And most of them host especially horny couples.

You stumbled upon a lot of them, trying to find an empty room, a number which you don’t want to remember.

After realizing the handsome stranger was nowhere to be found, you abandoned the large dancing area and decided to walk around the house to find anything interesting to kill time, while you wait for Nora’s departure message.

You thought you might find something worth your time inside one of those rooms, but as far as you went you only stumbled upon images you wish to forget.

As you walk down the hallway of the first floor, which is still filled with people dancing or making out, you spot a room at the corner of the corridor, where no one seems to be near it. You move towards it quickly, pushing through sweating bodies to see for yourself if this was the place you would rest quietly for the rest of the night. 

You knock once, twice waiting for anyone to halt you from opening the door. When that doesn’t happen you reluctantly open the door and you sigh in relief when you see the room is devoid of people.

You step inside quickly and close the door behind you as you enter yet another bedroom. Now that you’re here, the sounds of the party become muffled and blurry and you bask at the comfortable silence that falls around you. A nice change from the deafening music downstairs.

You walk around the room slowly as you start to take in its details. It’s a little bigger than the other rooms with dark shades of red, gray and black dominating the space. On your right, there is a balcony which stares directly at the front lawn of the house, with a wooden desk right next to the glass doors and on your left, you see a big canopy bed with graphite covers. But what catches your attention is the wall in front of you, with shelves of books covering it completely. There must be over a hundred books in here you realize and you step closer to read the titles in admiration.

And as you pull an unfamiliar book to inspect it, the door from behind you opens. You don’t immediately turn to see who it is, as you are far too lost in the book on your hands.

Only when the stranger speaks, you realize you’re not alone.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a deep voice says.

Your eyes stop upon the page as you repeat the words in your mind. Is it the man from before? You imagined his voice to be different, as you turn around to face him and-

It’s not him.

The man isn’t as handsome as the previous man was. He is handsome but not as much. He is more on the buff side and as you see his jacket with the gold letters ΓΟΤ you realize he’s on the baseball team.

You think this might be his room and you’re intruding but no such words left his lips. He said he was looking for you.

“Um, I’m sorry but I don’t think we’ve met before…” you say cautiously, gripping the book in your hands a little tighter.

The man has his hands in his jacket’s pockets as he shrugs and takes a step closer.

“You’re right, we haven’t. But that’s what I’m here for…” he says and only then do you notice the faint gleam in his eyes that informs you, you should get out of here as fast as you can.

“I’m sorry, I… I have to go…” you say quickly as you try to walk around him to reach the door. But his hand grabs your wrist and stops you from moving.

“You know, I’ve been watching you all night babydoll… That dress is a complete sin… You wouldn’t be walking around like that if you hadn’t the same thing in your mind as I do…” he whispers to you with a hideous grin, one that makes the bile in your throat rise. You feel sick as you try to push him away.

“Let go of me…” you struggle to break free from his grip, but his hands won’t move, you realize with fear.

“Oh, come on, don’t you want to get to know me? I swear you’re gonna be screaming my name by the end of the night…” his disgusting words reach your ears and his breath reeking of alcohol fills your nostrils as he moves his face to the crook of your neck. 

You shiver at the implication of his words and you prepare yourself to scream as loud as you can when the door opens again.

But you don’t hear it as a blood-curdling scream breaks free from your throat, right next to the man’s ear.

The man immediately hisses in pain, as he takes a step back, covering his ears. “You little bitch-” he begins as you turn around to run for your life; only to bump into the handsome stranger from before.

This stops you immediately as you look into his eyes. The stranger looks straight at you with his intense black eyes that look more serious and dangerous by the second. Is he with the other man? Is this a plan to trap you here?

But as soon as these horrific thoughts infiltrate your mind, you see the handsome stranger step aside and look menacingly towards the Gamma Omicron Tau member.

“Oh, Mark… Hi…” says the other man, nervously as he looks anywhere besides the stranger, his name you just learned. You look over to Mark as he approaches the other man with slow threatening steps and crosses his hands over his chest. He stares down the other man who fidgets uncomfortably in his spot.

“I think Michael is looking for you, Doug…” Mark says scaringly calm, as his eyes continue to pin down the other man. 

The other man looks as scared and uncomfortable as you were a few seconds ago. But that doesn’t make sense to you, since Mark is obviously less strong than the other man, and you’re sure he’s going to stand his ground-

“Ah, okay, sure…” he replies meekly, still looking at his feet. 

Your eyes widen with shock as you watch the previously oh-so-confident man, dissolve into a weak mess. The man steps around Mark quickly and goes straight for the door when-

“I know you aren’t the top in your classes, but I didn’t know you had no manners as well” Mark states mockingly as he stares at the now-motionless man by the door.

“Apologize” Mark’s voice booms through the room, even though calm. 

You look at him with a curious expression before returning your attention to the other man.

He looks at you and you see the humiliation in his eyes, as he struggles not to react. But aside the humiliation, you see the anger that resides in his eyes, at Mark’s order.

“I’m sorry…” he says through gritted teeth and he looks back at Mark, as you realize Mark must be some sort of authoritative figure around here.

Mark nods at him. “Okay. Now, get out” he says with a commanding tone and the man is gone within a matter of seconds.

You stare at the now closed door for a moment before you remember the other man in the room. Your eyes return to Mark. You find him staring at you with curiosity lacing his gaze, all anger from before, long gone.

And suddenly you remember how he looked at you before, all lust and yearning and it’s your turn to shift uncomfortably in your spot.

“Um… thanks for that…” you say to him as you look at your feet.

“I believe that’s mine” Mark brushes aside your comment. 

You bring up your gaze to see him with a half-teasing smile, pointing at your hands. You look down confused only to see the book you had picked up before, still in your grip.

“Oh…” you say, calmly. You completely forgot you were still holding it. “Sorry…” you reply as you put it on top of the desk, but then you frown in bafflement.

“Wait… this is your room?” you ask, almost accusingly.

Mark laughs. “I’m afraid so, yes” he replies, entertained by your lack of knowledge and your accusing tone behind it.

“Oh…” you repeat, timidly, as you struggle to look anywhere else than his intruding eyes. “Well, then… I… I should go…” you manage to say as you begin to make your way towards the door.

“But you haven’t told me your name…” he accuses with a slightly teasing tone.

You turn to look at him and your feet pin you to the floor, as you’re left unable to do anything but stare back in those eyes of his, that seem to want to swallow you up.

“Wh-…. why would you need that for?” you say quietly, as you feel the weight of those few beers in your judgment. Like they haze up everything.

Mark grins. 

“Nothing in particular…” he replies, but the look his eyes give you, says something different as his feet slowly bring him closer to you. 

Again you do nothing but stare.

Now that he’s closer you can detect a certain familiarity on his face, but you can’t put a finger to it. 

Not since there is a sinful spark in his eyes as if he’s anticipating your next move.

When you do nothing but gaze back, he blinks at you as a note of uncertainty crosses his features. And then it’s gone, as he falls to his familiar state of confidence, once more.

“Besides, it’s not fair for you to know my name, when I don’t know yours…” Mark smiles seductively before he eyes you up and down as if he’s staring at his favorite dessert.

His eyes make you cower, as you shift in your spot, wishing to at least be wearing something more… well, more covering.

You cross your hands on your chest defensively, but as soon as you see the smirk that takes over Mark’s lips, you realize you only managed to emphasize the way the dress clings to you and you drop them immediately, awkwardly glancing anywhere but him.

Mark steps even closer now as his piercing gaze travels up your body, sending pleasurable shivers up your spine. Now he stands right in front of you, your bodies almost touching, a feeling of anticipation slowly begins to wash over you.

You feel as if you’re trapped, like a moth to a flame. You don’t know if this is right or wrong, if you should be here or not.

But you know you definitely want this.

Your eyes land on his muscular torso, as you can clearly see it is as you suspected. The fabric of his shirt hugs his well-built frame tightly and you feel your mouth water. 

Your gaze travels to his neck, his beautiful and long neck and your eyes slowly widen, wishing to sink your teeth into the skin of his collarbone. Then you move to his face. The smirk is now long gone, with an unreadable expression taking over his features. 

And when your eyes meet his, your breath hitches in your throat. 

They stare at you with a hidden desire, a fire you both long to dwell on with each other, and a passion that seems to take over you both. His eyes are intense upon your features silently waiting. Anticipating that moment which will serve as a threshold between now and what is to come. 

The moment when not only your eyes meet, but your bodies as well, and upon the look in his eyes, you feel a familiar heat building between your legs.

“It’s Y/N…” you whisper, too lost in staring at his lips and wondering how they would feel capturing yours. 

Mark breathes heavily, before you, his hands falling limply to his sides, as he too finds himself captivated by your soft-looking lips. The moment is intense, both of you knowing what is to come next, no one wishing to stop it.

You see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he gulps, the only sign of his nervousness and that makes you want him even more.

“Y/N…” he repeats breathlessly as if the air in the room has vanished. You see him take another step closer, no more room between the two of you, and lust floods you for the impending, feeling your underwear getting damper by the second.

Then Mark’s hand raises in the air towards you. You long for the moment his skin will touch yours, yearning to feel his fingertips on you and then-

Your phone rings.

You jump slightly in your spot at the sound, simultaneously taking a step back, as Mark’s hand swiftly falls to his side, and he crosses them on his chest again.

“S-s-sorry, I have to take this…” you mumble, in the wake of the ruined moment, as you see Nora’s number on your screen. 

Mark nods uninterested which makes you look at him confused for a second before answering the phone.

“Yes?”

“Hey! It’s me! I’m at the front door, ready to go back to the dorms, where are you?!” her voice comes loud through the speaker and you flinch at the sound, earning a soft chuckle from Mark.

“I’m… I’m on the first floor but I-”

“Great! I’m coming over!” Nora yells into the phone before she hangs up. You blink in total confusion as you look at your phone.

Fucking amazing.

“Is everything okay?” Mark asks with a teasing grin. You turn to look at him, the confidence from before reappearing in his stance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… My friend wants to go home and I can’t let her go alone…” you say with a tone of disappointment in your voice. 

Why did Nora have to go and ruin every intimate moment? You wish you could stay more, but you aren’t gonna let your friend go home alone, especially after a party like this.

“Oh, it’s okay…” Mark’s uninterested tone makes you turn your gaze at him, baffled. But he stares at you like nothing has happened.

Well, nothing did but there was something there. Something that was going to happen if your phone didn’t ring and you can’t be the only one who noticed.

But Mark doesn’t seem at all bothered or disappointed by your imminent departure. He doesn’t even make an attempt to get your number or something. Instead, he picks the book you left and places it back to its original position, as he walks around his room and plops himself on his bed.

His room. In the Gamma Omicron Tau house. Of course.

He’s a Gamma Omicron Tau member. Douchebaggery runs in their blood. And suddenly all his confidence, or more properly cockiness, doesn’t seem at all attractive.

You frown at him, a mild anger slowly infiltrates your mind. “Right…” you murmur. “Well, this has been nice….” you say, sarcastically, wishing to coax a reaction out of him.

But Mark does nothing but smile, and it’s nothing sort of stunning as it was previously, only managing to infuriate you more, before he shrugs and looks at his door, meaningfully and then back at you.

As if he’s telling you to get out.

You scoff and you open your mouth for one last sarcastic remark, when you hear Nora’s loud voice, calling you by your full name from the corridor outside.

So you let it drop with a huff of annoyance as you make your way to the door.

But before you can reach it, you feel a grip closing around your hand and you turn to see Mark looking at you wide eyed.

“Your name is Y/N L/N???” he asks in urgency, surprise written all over his face, while Nora’s calls of your name repeat in a loop.

You stare at him, weirded out, not understanding where this is coming from. Does he know you?

“Yes…” you say, cautiously, shifting nervously under his gaze, as he lets out a breath. “Why?”

“We… I know you! We used to be friends!” he says with a spark residing in his eyes.

Now you frown at him, even more perplexed. Is this a trick? “What?”

“I know you” he repeats. “We were friends once! You even had a weird nickname for me! What was it…?” he says quickly, before struggling to remember something, while you continue to feel creeped out by the whole situation. 

But then Mark’s face lights up in recognition, and he turns to look at you with a wide smile on his lips, the only one that has been sincere till now, you notice.

“Markiepoo!” he exclaims loudly, his face resembling the one of a child during Christmas morning.

“Markie…” you say in confusion before it hits you. “Markiepoo?! You’re Markiepoo?!” you almost yell, unable to believe it at first.

‘Markiepoo’ was the nickname you had for your first friend. It was a boy, two years older than you, around 9 years old at that time and you had met him when his family moved in the house next to yours. You became friends when you discovered a wounded kitten in their backyard and rushed to help, only for it to scratch you and for the boy to come help you, after hearing your cries. After that, you became inseparable for the next two years, before his family disappeared. No one knew why they left or where they went and they left no means of communication for you to reach them. That’s how he disappeared from your life.

And now that is how he appears again.

The boy smiles, almost childlike as he nods. But in a second the innocence is replaced by the arrogance you became accustomed to, in this short amount of time.

“What a small world…”

As you and Nora walk side by side, reaching your dorms, you still can’t believe what happened today. Besides the fact that you nearly got assaulted, you almost had sex after a long time and the man turned out to be your long-lost childhood friend. Who happened to be one of the most notorious Gamma Omicron Tau members.

Mark fucking Tuan.

Nora explained to you on the way back, you had just walked out of the room of the most infamous playboy on campus. 

No one knew how many girls he had slept with. Not even Mark himself. And he was also known for not coming back for seconds. Once done and that was it. Mark was into the one-time thing, never getting into something more serious with any commitment that threatened to take away his freedom.

And you almost slept with him.

The thought keeps on plaguing your mind, as you lay your body on your bed and Nora sleeps on the other bed of the room, the image of his lustful eyes still burned on your brain.

Fuck why did you have to listen to Nora? Netflix and popcorn would have sufficed.

But suddenly the thought doesn’t seem as appealing as it did a few hours ago.

Not with a certain pair of eyes haunting your mind.

sooooooooooo, how was it? I expect feedback on this so don’t hesitate to ask me anything! Again happy birthday to the beautiful @chessireneko , I wish you all the happiness in the world, love!! 💓💓💓

[aliceinthewritingrepublic]

Axioms of Congruence

Title: Axioms of Congruence

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Pairing: Joey/Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2862

-

It's not only Joey's birthday, but also your first anniversary.

Once the last pancake was done you turned off the stove and added it to the pile already waiting on the plate next to you. There were at least eight pancakes and a half (your failed first attempt), the ones at the top significantly closer to the color pancakes were supposed to be than the ones at the bottom. You were not a talented or practiced chef by any means, but for him, you had decided to try.

You carried the plate over to your small kitchen table where you had already set up two more plates, cutlery and anything your refrigerator had offered that seemed to go at least semi-well with pancakes. Birthday breakfast, all nice and ready. Now all you were missing was the birthday boy – who incidentally also happened to be your boyfriend.

Tip-toeing into your bedroom you were not surprised to find that Joey had taken up the entire bed after you had snuck out, lying on his back with his arms and legs spread out. He was still sleeping soundly, unaffected by any care in the world. It was so precious you almost regretted the fact that you were going to disturb him. That was not going to keep you from doing so however.

You carefully knelt on the lower end of the mattress before slowly crawling ahead and straddling him, not quite resting you weight on him yet. Hovering over him, you leaned down until your face was almost touching his neck and breathed in his scent for a few moments. Only then did you kiss the side of his throat, once, twice, moving from one side to the other and then towards his jaw.

Soon, he was stirring, and only moments later, his eyes opened. You rose back up, properly sitting on his pelvis now.

“Good morning, lover,” you smiled at him, watching the sleepiness gradually abandoning his face.

He lifted his arms to stretch them and then folded them, resting his head – all a mess of dirty blond hair – on them. “Morning, cutie.”

You giggled. You had reminded him so often of the fact that you were very much not cute, but rather a dangerous and extremely sensual woman, thank you very much… Oh well. Perhaps that was where your self-perception and the perception others had of you diverged. Greatly. But that was not important now anyways.

“Happy birthday,” you said softly. You were really hoping he was going to like what you had prepared for him. But since it was food, you were probably on the safe side.

“Happy anniversary,” he answered, leaning up to kiss you only to find you meeting him in the middle.

He had remembered! But then again, if your anniversary was on the same day as your birthday, that was probably not such a difficult feat.

One year already. It felt like you had met him only days ago.

You were waiting at the streetcar station on your way to college. Like you had done yesterday, like you had done the day before that, and the one before that, and the one before that… but not the one before that. It was Friday, which you were beyond grateful for. You could do with a day of free time or two. Or maybe not really free time – you had to work tonight after all.

The car soon pulled into the station, and it turned out you had been standing in the ideal spot as the doors ended up right in front of you. A press of a button later they opened, and just as you were stepping inside you heard a voice yelling from a little while away.

“Hold the door!!!”

You did not have to think twice. You were a nice person after all; of course you held the doors open for the stranger barreling towards you and the streetcar.

He squeezed inside just before they closed again, and you realized – without any ulterior motives (yet, at this point in time) – that he happened to be a rather attractive stranger. Around your own age, give or take a year or two, and half a head taller than you. He had the kind of hair that made you wonder whether he had woken up like that or whether it had taken him way too long in front of the mirror to make it look like he had woken up like that.

“Thanks,” he grinned at you, and off he was to find a seat.

“No problem,” you answered, but he had probably already been too far away to hear you.

By the time you saw him again, you had pretty much already forgotten about him already. Not that he was not memorable, but you saw dozens of strangers while commuting every day and simply did not have enough excess mental capacity to spend on thinking about them.

Perhaps you never would have wasted another thought on him if he had not been back on the very same streetcar as you exactly one week later.

You were sitting in one of the single seats on the right side of the car when you overheard a group of people talking loudly from the four grouped seats diagonally across from you.

When you let your eyes stray over towards them, you recognized him instantly. You noticed he had brown eyes. Another fact you semi-consciously added to the description of him that was forming in your mind.

He was surrounded by three people, two guys and a girl. She looked the most normal out of the three with her brown bob cut. One of the guys was brunette as well – though his hair seemed weirdly pointy. The fourth guy in the group managed to make that look normal in comparison however: he had a total of three different hair colors, and not one of them looked very natural to you. What a weird ensemble.

“But you gotta do something! It’s your birthday after all!” one of them said, and although you were only listening with one ear, you noticed it was addressed to your not-quite-acquaintance from last week. That also explained the small box sitting on his knees. Apparently his friends had brought him a gift. That realization made you smile. Hoping none of them had noticed it, you turned your head to the window… and kept listening.

“I dunno. Maybe? I don’t even know what I’d wanna do though.”

“We should totally go to a bar! You don’t turn twenty every day!” the girl replied.

Twenty. So he was younger than you then, if only slightly. The list of facts kept growing.

This was ridiculous, you decided. What if they caught you listening? (You were not sure how that would work, but you were still afraid it might.) They would think you were being creepy, and that was the last thing you wanted. So you did your best to intentionally not hear anything more of their conversation for the rest of the ride.

You watched the buildings moving past, slow at first while approaching and then quickly once they were near. Same procedure as every day before that. Same old, same old.

Only today, when you shook off your trance and turned to look which station was next up, you suddenly made eye contact with the blond stranger who was just leaving the car. On the spur of the moment you smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Later that same day (well, night by now) you had only just started your work shift.

The bar you worked at on the weekends was downtown and you never quite knew what to expect from the evening when you arrived. Some weekends it seemed to be the party location du jour, and just the week after you might actually have a somewhat relaxing shift for once with only a few groups of people crowding the place.

Tonight seemed to be turning out to be one of the latter. Just enough for you to do to keep you from getting needlessly bored but no actual stress so far. The night was still young however and things could always change.

They did not.

It was around 11 pm and you were finishing a couple of cocktails for a group of guests when you heard the scratch of one of the bar stools being moved behind you.

“Be right there!” you promised, finishing up the order and putting the tray down on the edge of the bar for one of your colleagues to get and carry to the according table.

You put on your big bartender smile and turned towards your new patron. Lo and behold, it was the smiling stranger.

“Hey there,” he said, flashing you a knowing smile.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” You were nothing if not professional, even in the face of your commute almost-crush.

“Two normal beers and two nonalcoholic ones.”

“Coming right up!” You were grateful for the chance to turn away again to collect yourself for a moment and get your face to look normal again. You began to pour the beers.

“So, we keep running into each other, huh?” He had a nice voice, a slightly playful twist to it no matter what he said.

“And here I was going to pretend I was incredibly cool and didn’t remember you,” you joked, finishing the third one and starting on the fourth. Once that was done, you turned back to him, placing the first pair on the bar.

“Ouch, you’re mean.” But the look he gave you told you he did not mean it. He had the nicest brown eyes.

 “Not really. By the way, I promise I’m not stalking you,” you grinned, and he returned the favor.

“Well, I’m the one who walked into your workplace, so if anyone’s stalking anyone, it’d probably be me.”

“You never know!” You turned to get the remaining two beers and set them down in front of him. “Maybe I’m only pretending to work here. Maybe I’ve been following you all day!

“I… somehow seriously doubt that.”

“And you’d be right about that. By the way, this is not going to affirm my claim about not stalking you, but I kinda overheard it was your birthday this morning?” Your voice trailed off, waiting for a reply.

“It is!” Apparently he did not think you were acting creepy. Phew.

“Well then, happy birthday! Your drink’s on me. Only the one though. I’d love to make the rest on the house too, but I… don’t have the money for that.”

“That’s cool. You’re cool. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome! Do keep buying more drinks. And don’t forget to tip me well. Even if it’s your birthday!”

“I will, nameless bartender who is not my stalker.”

You blushed a little at the flirty tone in his voice, but nonetheless gave him a smirk as you told him your first name. “What’s yours?” you asked him – finally.

“It’s Joey.”

Over the course of the night, Joey kept returning to the bar to get drinks, and with every visit, he stuck around a little longer than the last time.

Within no time you had found out more and more details about him – and the same rang true the other way around. You enjoyed talking to him. He was nice, responded to your flirty ways in kind and managed to take your mind off work for a little while.

Midnight came and went and around one in the morning or so, he returned to your work sphere (read: the bar) once more.

“You’re back! Yay!” You were not even hiding your excitement anymore at this point. The both of you had gotten along so well all night you had grown confident enough to show your appreciation for his presence. “What can I get you this time?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid,” he admitted, leaning on the bar with one elbow, his other hand moving to the back of his neck in what seemed to be slight bashfulness.An unintended warm smile threatened to spread on your face any second. He had really grown on you, if something like that could be said after only a few conversations. “So you’re leaving?” you asked in return, putting down the glass you had just finished drying off.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s past midnight, so it’s not your birthday anymore, obviously.”

“Exactly. Anyways, I’m here because…” He paused.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish. He had not been this awkward all night, so why now?

“…because I wanted to ask for your number.” His hand was still scratching at the back of his neck.

You sighed in relief and smiled at him playfully. “Did you decide against it while walking over here or are you actually gonna do it?” Maybe if you dared him into it like this he would.

“I wanna, but I don’t wanna put you in a weird position, because you work here and all and I feel like I’d kinda be putting you on the spot.”

You beckoned him to lean over the bar with one finger. When he did, you leaned forwards so you could whisper into his ear. “Imma tell you a secret, Joey. I’m a nice person and all, but usually I don’t flirt with my patrons. Or pay for their drinks. Even if it’s their birthday. I’m nice, just not that nice. I guess what I’m saying is, you’re not only welcome to ask for my number, but I genuinely hoped you would.”

You took a step back while he straightened up again as well. Reaching into your industrial fanny pack, you pulled out a random scrap of paper and proceeded to write your phone number on it.

When you held it out towards him, he did not simply take the paper, but actually took your hand in his before pulling back and taking your number. His hand was warm, which was nice. Also significantly bigger than your own.

“Call me,” you requested, feeling rather confident in his intention to.

“I will!” He seemed no less confident in it.

“And then we can go somewhere where I’m not the one serving the drinks,” you added, giving him one last flirty smirk while he was already turning away. His friends, the same ones you had seen him on the streetcar with earlier today, were standing around near the exit, obviously waiting for him.

“Good idea. I think I ought to leave now, my friends are getting impatient. So, see you soon?”

“See you soon.” Hopefully very soon.

And now here you were, exactly one year later, kissing your boyfriend senseless on the morning of his birthday.

His arms were snaking around your torso, pulling you against him tightly before he flipped you over and climbed on top of you, his current intentions rather tangible in his eagerness.

You sighed into his mouth, wanting quite badly to lose yourself in the moment and go along with it, but thinking better of it. Taking his face in both hands you pulled away, gently but with certainty. “I made you breakfast. It’s probably getting cold right now.”

That caught his attention immediately. “Breakfast?” And he was off you in a split second.

You followed him into the kitchen and sat across from him before the both of you proceeded to have breakfast together.

It was not a rarity at all; all that was unusual was that today, you had made it yourself. And if the way Joey did not show any intention to stop even after his third plate was any indication, he did not mind the alternating quality of your cooking.

You liked these mornings. Waking up next to him, making idle conversation over breakfast. Leaving the house together and meeting back up in the evenings, either at his place or once more at your own. You liked how easy things were with him. You had never expected that relationships could even work that way until he had come along.

And all because of a series of coincidences. There were so many things that could have gone differently that would have caused the two of you to never even meet at all.

If you had been more adamant about your plans of saving money for a motorcycle, you would no longer have been forced to use public transit at that point in time.

If Joey and his friends had gotten lucky with the first or second bar they had tried to find seats in that night, he never would have come around to your workplace at all.

So many things had had to go just right to make sure the two of you met, and that you met again, and then again.

But they had gone right. And while you did not believe in fate or karma or anything like that, sitting across from him now, on your anniversary, and realizing once more – like you did with each passing day – how much your feelings for him had grown and yet continued to grow…

Perhaps sometimes, you did not have to work for it, you thought.

Perhaps sometimes, the right things would just come your way on their own accord.