#took me a whole month to finish but hot damn was it worth the effort

[scarlettroubles]

Commission for the lovely @oseathepebble of their oc, Tsukiko with Jack Howl from Twisted Wonderland!

like my art? Then consider commissioning me! 

[cherrybracelets]

I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton 

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely. 

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic. 

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job. 

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence. 

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it. 

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect. 

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you. 

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls. 

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation? 

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do. 

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job. 

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth. 

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in. 

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention. 

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you. 

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”. 

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you. 

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…” 

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks. 

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.” 

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement. 

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily. 

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky. 

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin. 

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat. 

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work. 

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. 

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had. 

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful  mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him. 

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost. 

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job. 

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

 They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you. 

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd. 

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him. 

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky. 

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance. 

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze. 

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke. 

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter… 

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office. 

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card. 

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand. 

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day. 

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here. 

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect. 

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him. 

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls. 

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy. 

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s. 

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice. 

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would. 

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing. 

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you. 

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table. 

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky. 

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk. 

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you. 

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly. 

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta. 

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention. 

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right? 

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky. 

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did. 

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it. 

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table. 

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk. 

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down. 

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?” 

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment. 

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush. 

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair. 

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently. 

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter. 

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.” 

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away. 

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?” 

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch. 

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught. 

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…” 

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win. 

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin. 

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say. 

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from. 

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted. 

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger. 

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house. 

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice. 

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean? 

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge. 

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine. 

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth. 

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth. 

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way. 

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever. 

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in. 

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you. 

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions. 

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck. 

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw. 

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance. 

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly. 

“Water.” 

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him. 

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate. 

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement. 

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway. 

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate. 

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump. 

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth. 

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.” 

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address. 

Who the hell was James Barnes? 

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

[willow-tree-writes]

✾Arcade✾

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Your relationship to King Steve Harrington was just a game for him. Now that he’s learned to play fair, can he win you back, or lose everything?

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: I think I like making song fics a little too much. There’s just so much inspiration that comes from them! Also, I’m still more than open for requests, so feel free to message me or anything. (Can we just talk about this gif? I’m not a smoker, I don’t condone smoking, but hot damn...)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Jerk Steve, Cursing

!I don’t own this gif!

A broken heart is all that’s left I’m still fixing all the cracks

Nancy tapped your shoulder for what seemed like the tenth time in five minutes. “Sorry, one last thing.” She paused, glancing around the classroom. “You sure you still want to come over tonight? Steve’s going to be there…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

It was kind of her to ask, and her tone was soft enough as she tried to beat around the bush, but it still stung a little.

“It’s been a couple years, Nanc. I’m sure.” You weren’t sure. Not completely.

I spent all the love I’ve saved We were always a losing game

You knocked on the door, almost immediately pulled inside by Nancy.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it!” She led you downstairs into her basement, where everyone else was.

You laughed a little. “Like I’d miss a Halloween Movie Night.”

You didn’t even make it to the last step when you felt yourself come to a halt. Everyone was here - the Party was laying on the floor, candy and popcorn all around them. Jonathan was on the couch, a spot open for Nancy beside him. And Steve was here. Just like she said he would be.

Small-town boy in a big arcade I got addicted to a losing game

“Come on, Steve! One more game!” You begged, tugging at his arm a little.

Steve sighed as you pulled him back inside the Arcade. “Y/N, this is the seventh time you’ve played it tonight. We both know you always lose.”

You laughed a little as you pulled a quarter from your pocket. “Okay, but it’s so worth it!”

He stood back with crossed arms as he watched you play the game for the eighth time now. It went like every other round - you made it so, so close to the end, only to lose. 

“See?” He uncrossed his arms and started back outside.

With a smile, you quickly followed after him. “Practice makes perfect, my King. Isn’t that how you got good at basketball?”

The playful chatter between you two was just so effortless. Ninth grade had been the best year of your life.

I saw the end before it began Still I carried, I carried, I carried on

“Tommy, give that to me.” Steve took the basketball from his ‘friends’ hands.

Tommy laughed and rolled his eyes. “What? Don’t want someone to take your b-ball title from ya?”

You were hesitant to approach the car, but you had to - Steve was giving you a ride home. “Hey, guys…”

You didn’t look at her, but you could feel the roll of Carol’s eyes. 

“Y/N…” Steve sounded a little awkward for a moment, like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to. He cleared his throat a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey.”

Biting your lip, you try to ignore the fact Tommy and Carol were ignoring you. “So, my mom isn’t going to be home in time, so we’ll probably have to look after Jenna for a couple of hours.”

The awkwardness in Steve’s stance seemed to upgrade. 

He opened his mouth to say something but Tommy put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Have fun with that kid-killing duty.” He said to you before looking at Steve. “That party starts in about an hour, and this girl needs to change. Let’s get a move on.”

Tommy walked around and got into the passenger's seat of Steve’s car and Carol got in the back.

“Sorry, Y/N, but I got to go.” With his key in hand, Steve moved up and kissed you quickly on the cheek. 

Forcing a smile, you shake your head a little. “It’s fine, Steve. Have fun.”

He smiled back, thanking you before getting into his car.

You stepped back and watched as Steve pulled out of the parking. Pulled away from you.

You let the smile drop to a frown as you started your walk home. Alone.

All I know, all I know Loving you is a losing game

“I love you, Steve-” The phone hung up before you could finish what you were going to say. Before he could say anything back.

“I love you-” The front door closed before you could finish what you were going to say. Before he could say anything back.

“I love-” The car door closed before you could finish what you were going to say. Before he could say anything back.

“I-” He walked away before you could finish what you were going to say. Before he could say anything back.

Summer had started a month ago, and Steve didn’t make one effort to hang out with you. He didn’t even call you.

You knew exactly why that was - he was hoping that if he ignored you enough, you’d get the hint and not try to get close to him. He was hoping he didn’t have to break up with you face to face.

But you chose to block away that knowledge. He was still Steve, right? Under all that high school fame, he was still Steve Harrington, your boyfriend…

That’s what you thought as you knocked on the front door of the house you visited so many times. That house that was currently full of people and booming with music. A house you hadn’t been invited to in a while.

Steve opened the door with a smile on his face a beer in hand. He had just finished laughing at what someone told him as he made it through the crowd.

His face and drink fell when his eyes landed on you. “Y/N…”

“We need to talk.” This was the first time in a while you felt like you could solidly say something.

He nodded a little and walked out of his house, closing the door behind him.

You wanted to ease into it. To ask him how he’s been. Ask if he’s been actually, genuinely having fun.

But pleasantries go out the window when you’re in front of the person who’s been chipping away at your heart. “Are we breaking up?”

There might have been no emotion in your voice, but you had to stop yourself from breaking down at even the thought of asking.

He sighed and you knew the answer. “Y/N, this just isn’t working for me anymore.”

“It would have been nice to be told that instead of figuring it out myself.” You couldn’t discern the tone of your own voice. You wanted to cry, but you wanted to slap him across the face with your words.

“Y/N, don’t be like that.” He reached out to grab your arm.

But you pulled away as fast as you could. “Have fun with your new life, King Steve.”

You don’t listen to him saying your name as you turn on your heels and walk down the driveway to go home.

I don’t need you games, game over

You tried to pretend as if you didn’t see him. Hell, you wanted to pretend he didn’t even exist. But that was asking too much.

Nancy handed you a bag of candy her mom put together and you sat down on the floor with the Party.

You opened it up as you sense Dustin peak over your shoulder. “You can have my nougat if you get your cat to stop chewing my socks whenever I babysit.”

“Deal!” Dustin spoke and grabbed the candy before you could even finish.

You laughed and shook your head. You could have sworn you saw Steve smile out of the corner of your eye.

Get me of this rollercoaster

“Y/N, wait!” Steve rushed out behind you as you started down the Wheeler’s driveway.

You closed your eyes and sighed. You had succeeded with ignoring him for the whole night. Now, when you were taking your victory home, he had to ruin it.

You stopped walking, but didn’t say anything or turn around.

You heard him jog up to you, stopping a couple of feet away. “Can we talk? I feel like you’ve been ignoring me all evening.”

“That’s because I have been…” You shrug a little.

It was silent, and you could tell Steve was trying to figure out how to respond to that.

You sigh again and turn around, looking at Steve for the first time. He had definitely grown since ninth grade. 

“I don’t want to hear some bullshit about you being sorry.” You say, catching him off guard. “You made your priorities clear enough I’d say.”

Steve stepped forward towards you, reaching to grab your arm. You take a step back, shaking off a flashback.

“I was a dick, I know.”

“I don’t care if you’ve changed.”

“But I have, and I want to explain-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” You snap. Every emotion you pushed down for years flashed in your eyes, making Steve stare.

You bite your lip, crossing your arms. “All I know, all I care to know, is that loving you is a losing game.”

All I know, all I know Loving you Is a losing Game

---- ----

Tag List -  @cheshirecat107 ♛ @killj0y2019 ♛ @Ashleyleblancx ♛ @andrewdrea99 ♛

[shebeafancyflapjack]

King Takes Knight (Part 5)

Shawn gets just what he hoped for.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

(TW: Torture, captivity, ‘nails’)

This was a glorious day. Victory Day. Maybe he’ll make it a national holiday to commemorate the occasion. Every employee will have a microsecond less work to do than usual. He can be generous like that.

Shawn watches from the stage as a Bad Janet enters, bending the arm of that pesky mutated Good Janet in front of her as she marches her down the steps. Behind them are some generic demon guards who he will have to learn the names of, if only so he can reward them for grabbing a human each between them. The four irritating losers who are behind this whole mess. 

He can’t help but laugh! How stupid can they be to have all come at once? Now there’s no one left to run their ridiculous experiment.

“Good evening, dickweeds!” He greets them cheerily, amused by the defeated looks on all of their faces - though Mendoza looks as gormless as ever; “So glad you could attend the show.”

“Oooh, what show? Is it Shrek the Musical?” Jason asks, lifting his chin up.

The large guard holding him gives his arm a painful tug, making the dumbass yelp like a cat with its tail caught in the door.

“I’m afraid not. But I’ll definitely be keen on making you sing soprano when I have them saw your balls off.” He gloats.

With a wave of his hand, he instructs the guards to walk the four of them forward, up the steps, and then force them to their knees at the front of the stage. The Bad Janet struts to stand next to him and Shawn allows her to give him a low five at his side in celebration.

Not that it took much effort.

“I applaud you for trying. But that really was a pathetic attempt to save Michael. You really thought we wouldn’t have Molotov-proofed the doors after last time?” 

Tahani turns to tut at Jason; “Told you!”

“Well I told you guys it was a trap but none of you listened!” Eleanor hisses.

Oh, this is wonderful. He would be happy to simply lock them in a room and watch them blame and scrap with each other, just as Michael originally intended, rather than all this wholesome chummy crap that ended up happening. How ironic.

“Such a shame that Chidi couldn’t be here to join you all. I guess he’s busy getting all loved up with his fellow nerd Simone, right Eleanor?”

He grins as that hits a nerve and Shellstrop darts forward, looking to go for him, before the guard grabs her hair and yanks her back down.

“Don’t worry. I have to keep my word to the Judge, after all. So I’ll be happy to let the experiment carry on, with Chidi and the others under the ‘safe’ guardianship of my employees wearing your skin suits.” He taunts them, “They won’t even notice you’re gone...especially as they will, literally, be the same skin torn from your bodies!”

“You twisted wanker.” Tahani glares at him, the British brat suddenly baring fangs; “Where is Michael?!”

“Y’know, she’s so right...Michael should be here to watch us slowly slice that fat skin off of them, shouldn’t he.” Bad Janet sways her hips, looking knowingly to Shawn with that glint in her eye; “Want me to go fetch him and give him the front row seat?”

This Bad Janet must not have got the memo.

“Oh I wasn’t foolish enough to have Michael be here. I just needed these filthy rats to think that’s where he was by the video.” He brags, watching the shock quickly drain the anger on their faces into hopelessness; “I had Michael moved a nice, cosy location far, far away. You weren’t even close to getting to him, idiots!”

“FUCK!” Eleanor swears, not even looking as though she can enjoy the opportunity to curse; “I told you all, it was too easy!!”

“No biggie.” Bad Janet rolls her eyes; “I can still stream him the footage to wherever that dingus is, can’t I? I sooo want him to see us cut Tahani’s hair into an uneven bob.”

“No! No! NOOOO!” The wannabe princess screams until the guard gives her a slap.

The Bad Janet has a point though. It wouldn’t be worth torturing Michael’s precious humans unless he was there to watch it, even if the plan with the Michael-suit fell through. Damn Vicky and Glenn both being blown up meant he had no duplicate to use, especially as he forgot to share the design with other skinsuit manufacturers (shut up, Glenn!). 

He’s certain there is very little of Michael’s awareness left after how much they’ve inflicted on him over the past few...well, it was only a handful of months but, thanks to Jeremy Bearimy, he’s endured a lifetimes worth of restraints, freezing, impalement, whipping, electrocuting, bad Adam Sandler movies, and soo much worse. There had been a time when he’d looked into those blue eyes and seen so much raw hatred. Now, whenever he took a glance at his wretch of a former employee, the light was flickering out, as if he’s conscious of nothing except the constant pain and loneliness. 

Just like the humans he adores so much that end up here, where they belong. Because they’re terrible and that’s all that needs to be known. He should have left well enough alone. 

At least now, finally, Shawn gets to have some entertainment.

“You’re right, Bad Janet. Set up a connection to the Tenth Circle, Sector B. I left one Bad Janet on duty there with Nicole who’s currently ‘taking care’ of Michael. And by that I mean making him very miserable.” Just in case the humans are too dumb to get the expression.

Bad Janet texts on her phone, popping another piece of gum.

“Tenth Circle...Sector B....Got it.” She raises her head, an oddly pleasant smile spreading across it, eyes suddenly bright and pleasant; “Thanks for that!”

“What-?”

The not-so-Bad Janet karate chops him in the side of the head and knocks him to the floor. He hears her make a shout, the theatre spinning around him, unable to find his feet quick enough before the humans get to their feet and surround him.

Shawn blinks, rapidly, as they proceed to take out some rope and tie his wrists and ankles together.

“What is the meaning of this?! GUARDS! DON’T JUST STAND THERE! GET THESE STINKING HUMANS OFF OF ME!” He rages, trying his best to break out of their puny hold but they’re, for some reason, freakishly strong.

The Bad Janet continues to smile at him.

“Oh they’re not your guards...and these aren’t the humans. You were being so smug that you didn’t see what’s right in front of you, did you?” She says.

Shawn frowns. What is she talking about?!

He glances up at Tahani leaning over his head, trying to spot the....Oh. Farts.

They’ve fooled him again. That’s no Bad Janet. And these humans have no auras. They don’t even smell! They’re the same as her. They’re...

“Meet my Janet Babies. I produced a bunch more to come with me. We just needed to know where Michael was really being kept and now we do. And I’ve forwarded that to our Team Two so, thanks!”

She gives Shawn a kick in the teeth before her group stand back at her command.

He spits, wriggling, bound and prone on the wooden floor.

The fake Jason stuffs a green stress ball into his mouth to gag him before all of them leave him there, muffled curses being hurled at them, before they lock the door and leave him in the empty theatre. He fucking hates Good Janets!

*

*

*

She likes to use the metal hooks to dig into his flesh and give them a tug, eager to get a reaction out of him despite his near frozen state. Every now and then she’ll manage to hit somewhere extra tender and a whimper will break out of his lips. 

She has a schoolgirl's giggle.

“This is like ice fishing. And you’re my big piece of frozen shrimp.” She teases him as they sit in the inside of a giant glacier. 

She doesn’t seem to be affected by the code, only wearing a pink slip dress. There’s not even any goosebumps on the arms of her suit.. 

The new one they’ve left with him is one he hasn’t seen before. She seems new to torture, possibly even new to the slim skinsuit she’s been given, still fascinated by the way her own fingers move. The way she caresses his face and sticks her tongue out makes him suspect she’s some kind of giant leech monster. The kind they used to let suck humans brains out with straws. Or cut their skulls open and lick them out like a kid with a bowl of cake mix.

Definitely not a fire squid, whatever she was.

“I bet Shawn’s almost finished making your buddies feel at home here. If you’re really good to me, Mikey...I might ask him to bring you their heads as a treat.” Nicole, as she said was her name, informs him.

He’s beyond attempting to beg for them to be left alone anymore. He’s beyond expecting any sort of mercy.

Everything he had tried for so long....everything he had hoped to avoid.

All of his efforts for the past few years were for nothing.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... He thinks as more tiny crystallised tears sting from the corners of his eyes.

A loud bang outside makes him start.

Nicole turns to the Bad Janet at the door; “What was that? Go check on it, will you!” she orders like a spoiled brat to her butler.

The Bad Janet rolls her eyes, flipping the bird and then doing as she’s told.

Nicole turns back to kneel in front of Michael.

He tries to escape into his hallucinations but she wants his focus on her. Her hand grips his cheek and squeezes tight.

“I dunno what you did to get the Boss to hate you so much, I don’t really give a toss about current affairs...But m’just glad I get this as my first job! Punishing a dirty traitor...” She runs the tip of an ice pick up his face, towards his nostril; “...And all the other dirty things I hear about you...My mate Kath said you had the hots for one of them humans...You creeps should keep that fetish on the internet where it belongs! Look where it’s got you now...”

She takes a small hammer out from her pocket and puts it to the bottom of the ice pick, shoving it up Michael’s nose.

“I wish you had a brain in there so this could get the same effect it does with those creatures...But the simulation is good enough.”

He wishes he could laugh through the binding in his lips. He wishes that her wish could come true. Give him a lobotomy? Take away his memories of constant failure? Make him oblivious to how he’d loved for nothing and lost everything? She would be doing him the greatest favour.

As it is, he’ll just sit there and take the pain of a nail through his fake skull. He’ll let her have her fix until she gets her reprieve and he’s left alone to his own personal inner torment. His guilt. His regrets.

Just let go, Michael. Just...forget.

Nicole leans in close, ready to fiercely tap; “Hold still. This will only hurt a-.”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her taunting before her skin suit explodes, sending a wave of pink goo across Michael’s face. 

He blinks. Something happened.

The ice pick and the hammer clatter to the floor.

Wha...

Eleanor Shellstrop stands at the door, clutching a Bad Janet marble in one hand, pointing Janet’s demon exploder in the other. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #371

“some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses”

What is one song you feel as though you sing particularly well, if any? Probably none, lol. What was the last lengthy task you completed? I love these unique questions I've had lately, but damn, are a lot of my answers "I don't know," lol. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? I love floral and wildlife photography. Landscapes, too, and I have a great fondness for boudoir for reasons I've mentioned in previous surveys. I like taking nature pictures, mainly. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Hell no, that's a hard pass. I'm sure the busiest shopping experience I've had was like at the mall or something around Christmas, idk. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? NO. I DON'T. BECAUSE I CRINGE INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION. I keep a lot of it for memory's sake, but goddamn, is it always embarrassing. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Um... the first thing I really remember is video games. I played Spyro like, a LOT, along with other childhood games. I was just really into gaming at a young age. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc., and when was the last time you felt especially cranky? THE HEAT. I become so irritable. I was needlessly cranky a few days ago for whatever reason. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? My legs hurting, more than anything. Also being hot. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? Ha, no. It's not gonna look fancy in my stomach, so whatever. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? No, and I very much doubt I ever would. Are there any candles in the room with you? No. Does the last person you kissed have tattoos? No, but I tell her all the time that dainty nature tattoos would be THE most beautiful on her. When was the last time someone called you pretty? I think when I last updated my Facebook profile picture. Do you like the color pink? It's my favorite! Does your cell phone have a case on it? What color? It came with this thin purple one. What was the last song you had on repeat? "Moon Baby" by Godsmack. Ever kissed someone your parents hated? No. Your most recent ex says he/she hates you, you say? I wouldn't *say* anything, I'd break down sobbing. Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? No. Have you ever had to choose between two people? Yes: Jason and Juan. Juan and I dated for less than a day not all that long before Jason and I got together, and Juan was pretty upset. He was nooot a fan of Jason due to a shared ex-girlfriend. Jason, meanwhile, just didn't care. What is the saddest thing that has happened to you? What about the happiest? I think the saddest thing has to be my breakup, especially when you know just how madly in love I was with him and had endless trust that he would never leave, and then he was gone in a flash one night. The happiest is, in turn, my recovery from said split. I found strength in myself and felt hope for once as I learned coping mechanics and got a psychiatrist that was worth a shit in my partial hospitalization program. What was the last new drink you discovered that was delicious? *shrug* Do you have a YouTube channel? Yes. I don't make videos anymore, though. Were you happy as a teenager? God no, my depression was awful. What do you do for your mom on Mother’s Day? Sigh. Not enough. I just tell her happy Mother's Day, give her a hug, and try to be an extra good daughter. Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? No. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I can do it alone (but only have once), but I like to bring my mom with me still. Would you have sex with someone of the same gender as you? I'm bi, so. Have you ever had a concussion? One or two, I can't remember. How many dresses do you own? Zero. Do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? Yeah, my friend Summer has a darling leopard gecko. I want oneeeeee. They look so damn derpy and adorable, and their chill demeanor is something I really like in pets. Would you ever go bear hunting? No. Absolutely never. Do you prefer drawing or painting? Any particular reason why? Drawing, for sure. At least you can erase stuff, and paint is just so messy. Do you like raisins? NO THANKS MAN. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? Nope. Do you forget to flip the page of your calendar at the start of each month? I don't have a calendar. Are you racist to any race? Nope. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? I've given cats and dogs a small pop on the rear, but nothing more than that. I hate doing even that, but with the language barrier and all, sometimes it's the only way to get your point across. Do you own any autographed memorabilia? No. Have you ever dated a twin? No. Oreos or Chips Ahoy? Oreos. Have you ever considered being a cop? Yeah, no thank you. What’s your favorite superhero movie? Maybe Logan. I thought it was very emotional and just overall a good movie. Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: MY MOM. Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: uhhhhhhhh Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: Dancing, maybe. Which is worse: Stale chips or flat soda? Stale chips, for sure. It's certainly not my preference, but I can drink flat soda. Who’s the hottest guy and hottest girl out there? M-Mark Fischbach. :') Girl... let's seeeeee... maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy. GodDAMN what a WOMAN. ❤_❤ Do you ever trip over your pets? Yes, because he just looooves to follow me at my feet. What’s your relationship like with your exes? Aaron, Juan, Jason, and Tyler: nonexistent. Sara and Girt: great. What was the last thing you turned down doing? Going to my nephew's t-ball game. I always feel bad when I say no when Mom asks if I wanna go... but at least the kids know I just don't handle the heat well. Are you a party animal? Faaaaar from it, my friend. Who are you the biggest fan of? m-m-m-mMARKIPLIER You’re DJ for the night - first track to get everyone going? Uhhhh maybe "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.? Have you ever been hit on by a pushy person? I think Juan was kinda pushy, but not to an uncomfortable degree. He respected what I felt. What accent do you find attractive? Most attractive, British. But I also really like Scottish and Irish. Also French accents in women I tend to find very beautiful-sounding. Have you ever had feelings for a friend's partner? Yes. What’s your favorite thing to do that doesn’t cost much? Drive around take pictures, maybe? Let's, uh, ignore the whole gas crisis in this answer. When in danger are you more fight or flight? Flight. Do you feel self conscious about a certain body part? *gestures to entire body* Have you been accused of being manipulative? Yes. Have you ever considered violence to solve your problem? No. Are you romantic? I personally think so. If you are a smoker, how long does a pack typically last you? If you aren’t a smoker, does anybody you are close to smoke, & if so, are you against the fact that they’re a smoker? I don't smoke. To answer the next part, yes, like my dad and stepmom. I wish they would stop so badly, like it's literally going to kill them both. Do you have more subscribers or more people that you are subscribed to? On YouTube? I'm definitely subscribed to waaay more people. Is there anything that has been drilled into your brain since you were young & you finally decided to stop listening to? How did it feel once you decided to listen to yourself over what you were told? Yes: "finish your plate." Teaching your kid to eat beyond their comfort can be very destructive, and I'm glad I never stuck to that once Mom stopped enforcing it. If you are currently in a relationship, what is one thing that seems to be unique or different about your relationship with this person, compared to other relationships in general? If you are currently single, is this more of a choice or is it more just the way things are going, not really something you chose? If you are neither “single” or officially in a relationship, what are your feelings on your current situation? I'm single, and it's just how it is. I know realistically I wouldn't tell what felt like the right person no, but it really is probably better that I stay single and keep figuring my shit out. Think of somebody famous that you have a lot of respect for. What is something that you really admire them for? To name just one thing I admire in Mark, his relentless "I'm going to do this no matter what" attitude is very inspirational to me. He lets like... n-o-t-h-i-n-g get in his way. If somebody were to leave a harsh comment on a survey you took, judging you on one of your opinions, how would you react? I'd get pretty self-conscious, just because I in general take judgment quite poorly. I obsess over "what if they're right, and you're just an idiot?". Are there any other sites you use to find surveys to take? What sites do you use? I mainly use Tumblr and LiveJournal, but in times of great desperation, I'll use Bzoink and just google surveys as well, haha. Have you sent or received any friend requests on Facebook lately? Not sent, but I got one from someone I had no mutual friends with the other day. Safe to say I declined it. Can you recall the last time you turned down an offer, of any kind? Uhhhhh no. Which fruit would you say you eat the most often? Apples. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman has been to the vet once to get neutered (and I think shots?). I took Venus many years ago because I thought she had a respiratory infection. Thank god, she didn't. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at pet stores? The reptiles, snakes in particular. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a restaurant? Like, over an hour. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? Cavities and braces, yes. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? Probably polar bears. Like especially here, it gets so hot in the summer, and the poor things sometimes only have a bit of snow in the shade. Like... they can't be very happy. Especially when you see those videos of them playing in snow, and then you think about situations like our zoo here... ugh. What kinds of artifacts fascinate you? I really think old figurines built with like clay and stuff are cool. But all artifacts I find to be very intriguing. It's so interesting to see that the desire to create has always been with us as a species. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No.

[katieurah]

Screening Hearts - Part 3

So, I figured on 3 or 4 parts to this originally. Now, it’s maybe 5? Who knows. These two just keep being ridiculous, so I keep writing. We’ll see and cross our fingers I can make this hot mess into something. 

Also, I apologize for the number of times “check” appears in this one. Quarantine has me making lists of all the things, so I think Elide must make all the lists, too.

Let me know if you want tagged!

...................................................

Elide very carefully swiped her marker over the dry erase calendar above her desk. This is what it feels like to have finally lost it, she thought as she perfected the month and dates in the little black squares. She’d spent all last night rearranging her home office space, expanding the area to house more notebooks, a new-to-this-space jar of pens (which all work after extensively scribble-testing them), her laptop along with the desktop setup that was already there, a wall space for sticky notes, the newly mounted HD webcam, and her favorite chair. Check that off the list.

She was going stir-crazy.

It was bound to happen eventually, right? Her small apartment in a suburb of Orynth was 20 minutes from the office in a downtown business district of the city. Which she hadn’t been to in a week. She hadn’t been outside of her suburb for 5 days. She hadn’t been out of the apartment for 3. Stupid mayor. Stupid politicians. Stupid city limit rules. Stupid apartment in the crap-side of town.

Elide would feel so much better if her boss would actually contact her and give her feedback. She’d feel so much better if she were actually working with her team and not just video conferencing. She’d feel so much better if she could go blow off steam at her favorite pub. She’d feel so much better if Lorcan wasn’t the only consistent contact she’d had.

Aelin and Rowan had Elspeth and were on an extended holiday they’d planned before the merger and were now stuck due to travel restrictions. A cabin in the Staghorn mountains seemed great until you were stuck with limited internet.

Lysandra and Aedion were all the way in Rifthold where he was stationed and she was in between jobs. There were only so many video calls they could do.

Manon and The Thirteen were coordinating relief efforts in the Wastes where travel restrictions hit hardest. Dorian, of course, was there, up Manon’s butt and around the corner. She got sassy when she was stressed and anxious. And maybe a little immature, too.

She’d been organizing and creating checklists for almost two days. She kept going through her mental list of her people, adding Yrene and Chaol, Fenrys and Connall, Gavriel, Vaughn...Check, Check, Check. More people she’d had contact with, but no one to talk to. At least she knew where they were. Another thing to check off the list.

Elide hung the calendar up above her work area and booted her computer system up. She wanted to triple check that it all would work seamlessly whether she added her laptop in or not.

“Cable there...check… settings….check...audio detect...check…check, chickity-check…. check yo self before you wreck yo self….Chickity-check yo self before you wreck yo self….Yeah, come on and check yo self before you wreck yo self!”

Head bobbing and hands scratching imaginary DJ setups while she waited, Elide was so lost in her thoughts that when the video chat tones went off and startled her, she tipped over in her chair as she reached over to answer the call without thinking.

“Uh, Elide? You okay?”

Shit! Of course, she actually would have answered the dadgummed thing. As she fell over. On a chat with Lorcan. …

Lorcan watched with amusement as Elide closed her eyes and took a deep breath, righting herself in her seat and glaring at him.

“What do you want, Salvaterre?”

He struggled to keep his face straight, biting the inside of his cheek before answering. He honestly had no real reason for video calling her on Sunday evening. They weren’t even supposed to talk until after lunch tomorrow, but he found himself making up excuses anyway.

“I was just testing a new set up and wanted to make sure everything worked right. Just lucky I guess that you were available to be my guinea pig,” he teased. She regarded him suspiciously, like she didn’t quite believe his story.

“Well, you tried it. So, bye,” she quipped and began to reach to end the chat. She still looked flustered. She probably didn’t want to admit she’d been doing the same thing to her system and that’s why she could answer. And that he’d seen her wipe out at the beginning of the call.

“Hold on there, sweetheart. I have to make sure the audio is calibrated just right and that we don’t get dropped.” He adopted an arrogant tone, knowing it’d irk her and keep her on longer.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.

He chuckled, reading her face just fine over the screen, noting her little tells of irritation, how her nostrils flared when he got under her skin.

“First,” she continued, gritting her teeth, “you can run diagnostics with the system, you don’t need me. Second, you’re a morning guy. Why are you on here at 6 on Sunday night? Heck, we could even be doing this tomorrow before we dive in.”

“Oh, come on, El. You know as well as I do that testing systems works better with another person. And what else is there to do since we’re all kind of stuck? Perranth officially cut off travel on Friday until the tox results come back on that dinner.”

“I know… it’ll be another week before we know if we can even go back to the office,” she whined. Then she looked caught off guard “Wait… you’re in Perranth? I thought you’d be in Doranelle at headquarters?”

Damn. She didn’t know he was back in the country, then. “Rowan wanted some security updates done at the branch office here, so I stopped off on my way to the summit. Then the shit hit the fan, so I’m here until they ease up.”

“Oh. Well, that stinks...Wait, if you’re only in for that, are you seriously set up in a hotel right now?”

“Gods, no! That’d be the worst. I’m at the cottage,” he replied, referring to the second home Rowan and Aelin had purchased. Since everyone traveled so much, Rowan had set up an office for the security firm in that house. It was also a frequent place for layover flights, pit stops, and long weekends, making it a nice retreat while he was stuck.

“You didn’t seriously pack your coffee, the grinder, and the whole system with you…” She said, staring at him flatly.

“Damn straight. I wouldn’t be able to live on that cheap single-serve crap Aelin keeps here. Must be why she’s always so bitchy…”

“Hey! That’s my sister-cousin you’re talking about! And I doubt it’s the coffee’s fault...” Elide jumped to defend Aelin, even while chuckling and agreeing. She knew A could be a real piece of work.

Lorcan smiled, eager to keep up their banter. He was relaxing and it felt nice to be back to how they were. “El, I-”

“Well, it’s late and I’ve gotta get a few more things done before tomorrow. Bye, Salvaterre.” Elide rushed as though trying to stop him from speaking any more and ended the chat abruptly.

Lorcan stared at the screen, trying to catch up. He hadn’t even said anything. Had he? Even she was laughing at his rather mild jab at Aelin. Sure, A got on his nerves sometimes and their history wasn’t always good, but she was family.

He dropped his head back, rubbing his face with his hands. He let out a frustrated growl before stalking to the kitchen. Maybe there was some whisky somewhere. ....

Elide slumped over the desk, banging her head as she whined. She had to stop. Their banter was nice. She wouldn’t admit to craving it yet, though. She wasn’t so stir-crazy to go that deep into navel gazing… yet anyways. She needed distance. She had to remember that Lorcan was a self-absorbed, arrogant, dill hole. She had to remind herself of that. She brought back memories of That Night to reinforce those thoughts as her heart tried to betray her again.

She’d been upset and angry at another jerk who’d tried to get in her pants and wasn’t mature enough to handle no. Sure, he’d been a fun date and was attractive, but she just didn’t feel that urge with him yet. So she said no, he’d ghosted for a week, and then sent a text saying he thought they should see other people.

Aelin had handed her a glass of wine and cheered her up a bit, making her laugh over horror stories from past dates. Dating was hard. Elide was a catch. Guys were dumb. Then they started talking about Lorcan. “El… have you thought maybe you and Lor should try it?”

Elide had stared open-mouthed, trying to formulate a response coherent enough. Was she that obvious? She thought she hid her feelings pretty well, but… And Aelin recommending it?

“Come on, E, you two are great together. And I know you. I’ve seen you staring at him several times. Just, think about it? And that you’ve got options. This loser isn’t worth any more tears.”

“True,” Elide had agreed. “Maybe I’ll ask Lorcan for coffee or something later. But tonight I just want to finish this wine and snuggle Ellie.”

Just then, Lorcan walked in and ruined it all.

Right. He ruined it. No going back.

Elide left her mental checklist behind in favor of repeating bad things about Lorcan to herself. Even as she pointedly ignored the realization that talking to him helped she felt more grounded than she had earlier. She also ignored the realization that she’d probably fall asleep convincing herself that his laugh earlier was grating and not the best sound she’d ever heard.

.................................................................................

@nalgenewhore

[ratedbangtann]

✧˚₊‧𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 - 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞. ✧˚₊‧ 

𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 || 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙠  

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍...

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Word count: 6K

Warnings: Explicit smut; cunnilingus. Emotional sex. Unprotected sex but birth control used. Angst. Cheating and upsetting break up.

Song: Last Christmas by WHAM! ✧˚₊‧

No time of year felt as lonely to Hoseok as Christmas; this year in particular. He'd always struggled with idol life around now. He often couldn't make it home for the holidays, with scheduling conflicts or his parents going out of town for a vacation abroad. He found himself alone most years.

Not last Christmas. Last Christmas, he had you.

All the boys had left to go back to their hometowns that year, finally free for long enough to travel home. But Hoseok had stayed put, wanting to be in Seoul for you. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving you over the holidays, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. He was totally in love with you, knowing he landed the jackpot when he met you.

Your beauty, your kindness, your intelligence, your passion; he loved you so much that it terrified him.

But it had all gone south two months ago, after a string of stupidity on his part.

You had given everything to Hoseok, bared your soul to him in the year that you were together. You let him break down your walls, your insecurities. You let yourself fall in love for the first time ever. You had felt like you finally had found someone worth spending the holidays with; Christmas, New Year, birthdays... He was your whole world, your whole future.

But Hoseok took you for granted. He didn't realise what he was doing, or the impact it had on you.

It started off small, expecting little things from you. You knew how busy his life was of course, and you tried to keep up with him and do the things he never had time to do; cooking meals for him when he was tired, his laundry when it had stacked up too high. You'd do cute little things for him, like leaving him little notes in the lunch you had prepared for him to take to practise with him.

And to begin with, he did the same for you. On days he had to leave before you had even woken up, you'd wake up to a pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note on the worktop reminding you that you were special, or beautiful or just that he loved you.

But the affection started to dwindle, his efforts diminishing the longer you spent together. He had become too comfortable, letting himself forget to call you back or showing you little to no attention at all when he finally came home from practise and you had stayed up all night waiting for him.

It got harder when he left on tour; gone for weeks on end and barely calling. He'd be on the phone to you and suddenly tell you he had to go, abandoning you for a night drinking with the boys. You understood that he wanted to have fun and needed to blow off steam, but he was making absolutely no effort at all to communicate with you.

Frustrations built over time, to the point where you had ignored a few of his calls because you were petty enough to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to make him realise that it hurt when he did it to you instead of voicing your feelings to him.

A particularly hurtful argument occurred one night when he was in America. You had just finished a long day at work yourself, and with the time difference, he had totally ignored the fact that you would have been settled in bed when he called. You snapped at him, telling him you were trying to sleep, and he lost it...

"Well when is a good time to call, y/n? You never fucking pick up anyway," he'd scorned, anger evident in his tone.

"Well maybe now you know how it feels, Hobi. How many times have you ignored my calls?" you spat down the phone. "And when we do finally talk, you ditch me for a party. I'm back here feeling so fucking lonely and you show no interest in me or my day at all!"

"Don't... My schedule is fucking ridiculous, I need to let loose every so often. I don't have time for you every second of every day!" he yelled, voice raising significantly.

"It takes 2 minutes just to text me a 'how's your day been babe? Miss you.' You used to. You used to care so much. Now I'm a god damn afterthought!" Tears pricked at your eyes, voicing every grievance you had built up over the last few months. "If you don't want to make time for me, that's fine. But I will NOT make time for you anymore." And you hung up.

Anger seethed through Hoseok. He blamed you for it all, completely ignorant to his own mistakes. That night, he made one of the biggest he ever had.

You hadn't found out until he had come home two weeks later, the argument still in the back of your head but you pushed it away in the hope that he would have had time to cool off, to think. You were just excited to have him back home, so you could at least talk about your problems together; like couples should.

But he had been so vacant, so distant with you from the moment he made it home. You had run to him, kissing him at the door but his lips felt stiff and unmoving, his hands never wrapping around your waist like they usually did.

He had sat you down, hanging his head low and confessed his biggest mistake to you.

"I-I... I cheated on you, y/n. The night we fought..."

Your blood ran cold, seeming to drain right down to your feet and pool there. You sat opposite him, hot tears building in your eyes.

"Get out," you said simply, softly.

"C-can we just talk about this, I-"

"Get out," you repeated.

"I was angry, and I got so drunk that night. I don't even know her name but she was just there and I don't know what was going through my head but I was so mad at you and I just-"

"GET OUT!" you screamed suddenly, the tears spilling down your cheeks. You stood up, pointing at the door. "NOW! GET OUT!"

He stood up with you, holding his hands up to try to calm you. He wanted to talk, to get it all out on the table and own up to what he'd done, but you didn't want to give him the chance. You were too hurt, too broken by what he had done. There was no coming back from this.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to-"

"GET OUT. FUCKING LEAVE, I DON'T WANT YOU HERE," you screeched, pushing him away from you. "DIRTY, VILE FUCKING ASSHOLE!" you kept pushing him, backing him up towards the front door until he opened it, stepping out into the hallway.

He looked up at you with tears in his own eyes, begging you to let him stay, to talk. But you could barely look at him right now.

"Don't come back," you whimpered, slamming the door in his face. You immediately collapsed against the door, sliding down it into a pile of limbs and sobbing to yourself. Hoseok stood on the other side of the door, in silent tears.

He could hear your sobs through the door, his heart breaking. He flattened his palm against the door, reaching out to you as you sobbed on the floor. It was too late though; you had shut him out. But he couldn't bring himself to walk away, not while he could hear you breaking. He stood there, hand pressed to the door until he heard your sobs subside and footsteps slowly walking away from the other side of the door. Only then did he leave you. His head felt heavy on his shoulders, weighed down with the guilt of what he had done. He loathed himself for hurting you like this.

And now, on Christmas Eve, he sat alone in the dorms listening to Christmas music in an attempt to cheer himself up but all he could think about was you. He knew you'd be alone too, cooped up in your apartment. You didn't spend Christmas with your family, all of them in various parts of the world. He wished he could be with you, like he had last year.

He missed holding you, the way your hair smelled as you snuggled on the couch together. He missed the way your lips had tasted of the candy canes you'd suckled on all evening. He missed the look of pure joy on your face when you had opened his gifts, completely blown away by the thought that had gone into each one.

That Christmas had been his favourite. And now... he felt lost.

He wanted you back, needed to talk hold you again. He couldn't move on, couldn't put his adoration for you to rest and oh, god he couldn't forgive himself for what he did.

He needed to see you.

In a split second he made his decision, switching the stereo off and crawling out of his bed to throw on some snow boots and a parka coat. He knew where you lived, remembered it well. He knew you'd be home on Christmas Eve, doing your usual little traditions like watching Home Alone with a hot cocoa.

He grabbed his phone and his keys and made his way out into the dark winter night, taking large determined steps in the snow.

It took him almost an hour to get to your apartment building, hopping on the subway to get to your side of town and walking the ten minutes from the station to your street. He stood at the door, finger hovering over the buzzer. He was shaking, whether from the cold or the nerves he couldn't tell but knew he was terrified. There was nothing to say that you wouldn't tell him to piss off again, but he had to at least try...

He pushed the buzzer, the noise arrogantly loud in the silence of the evening. He got no response, waiting patiently. He pushed it again and waited. Nothing.

He'd stand here all night if he had to. Looking up he saw your lights were on, knowing which windows were yours, so you had to be home...

He pushed it again, holding the button down longer this time. Nothing again.

Maybe you were in the bath; he knew you liked to have a good soak with all your bath bombs and bubble bath, candles lit and oils burning the night before Christmas; de-stressing before your favourite day of the year. Maybe you were in there?

He told himself he'd wait another ten minutes before trying again. He stood shaking in the cold, rubbing his hands together for some friction to heat the freezing skin. He should have worn gloves, but he wasn't thinking so logically this evening.

He pushed the buzzer again and again, still eliciting no response from you. Maybe you'd seen him out of the window and were choosing to ignore him. He sighed audibly, a puff of breath visible in the cold air and contemplated turning around and disappearing into the night again.

"Hobi?" a little voice questioned from behind him, not through the intercom but right there, a few meters away from him. He turned around to see you standing there in the snow, fluffy hood over your head and matching gloves over your hands. You were holding a tub of cocoa powder to your chest, cradling it like a newborn.

Your face flushed pink from the cold biting at the skin; adorably so. He missed that about you. You looked surprised, confused to see him stood outside your apartment building on Christmas eve.

"I-I... I was just, um... I saw your light on, I thought you were home," he stuttered, kicking the snow at his feet. You held up the cocoa in your hands, offering an explanation.

"I was out of cocoa..." He smiled fondly at you; you couldn't have Christmas eve without your cocoa.

A moment of silence passed over the two of you, neither one of you knowing what to say. You didn't know why he was here, but part of you was glad he was.

"Why are you here, Hoseok?" you dropped the pet name for him, simply calling him by his birth name. He hated when you did that, either mad at him or disappointed. He didn't know which you were feeling, and he didn't know which was worse.

"I just... um... I don't know this was stupid, I'm sorry," he shook his head, taking a step to leave. You clearly didn't want him here. You were still mad, you had to be. He couldn't blame you.

"Wait," you stepped towards him, just one little step, but he stopped immediately. His heart pounded in his ears, waiting for you to continue. "W-would you... like some cocoa? You look so cold..."

"I'd love some," he smiled, looking up at you. He took your breath away; really, he did. He was still just as handsome as ever, as charming. His hopeful little smile lit up his face to counteract the tired bags under his eyes from lost sleep and a warmth spread through your chest.

"Okay..." you stepped forward again, passing by him quickly to open the door to the complex. He stepped inside after you, the warmth of the building feeling like such an intense heat that his exposed nose and hands burned at the sensation. You jogged up the stairs, willing to get inside as fast as possible and stave off the awkward silence, replacing it with a movie or something; anything that meant that you didn't have to talk.

Because the second you talked, you'd tell him everything.

How much you missed him, how much you still loved him, how you spent every night alone and wishing you had done things differently all those months ago. You wondered if things would be different had you just told him how you were feeling, if you'd communicated rather than started make petty little comments.

But still, you weren't sure you had forgiven him. You were so angry that he betrayed you that way, that he completely broke the trust you had with him. Never did you think Hoseok would be the kind of man that would ever hurt you like that.

Your apartment looked exactly the same to him when he stepped in the door, still pristinely kept. You had decorated with tasteful Christmas ornaments, a beautiful tree in the corner draped in gold and red with twinkling lights amongst the branches.

You made your way into the little kitchen you had, pulling two mugs out of a cupboard and a saucepan to heat the milk in. You added a little extra cocoa than you normally would, knowing Hoseok had such a sweet tooth and preferred a rich cocoa. He stood and watched you in silence, leaning up against the counter island. He rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air onto them to fight the aching cold they had grown accustomed to.

With a little whipped cream and a handful of mini marshmallows, your masterpieces were complete. Hobi followed you to sit on your couch, mug in hand. Before he took a seat the pair of you shrugged off your parkas, throwing them over the back of the couch. He sat at the opposite end to you, watching as you tucked yourself back under the blanket you had discarded before you left.

You pressed play on the television, resuming the opening credits of Home Alone. Hoseok chuckled aloud.

"What's so funny?" you couldn't help but smile, his giggle infectious.

"Home Alone?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah... I watch it ev-"

"Every Christmas eve," he finished for you. You stared at him, blinking with a smirk on your face. "I knew you would."

"We all have our traditions," you shrugged, turning your attention to the television again.

A moment passed, Hoseok wondering if he should make conversation with you or just sit and watch the movie, grateful you hadn't turned him away with a slap to the cheek.

"How have you been, y/n?" he asked, nervous. He took a marshmallow from the top of the whipped cream peak on his mug and popped it in his mouth. You exhaled loudly; you suppose you had to talk about it eventually.

"Better, I guess," you shrugged. That was a lie. "You?" You looked up at him through your lashes.

His brow creased, his jaw tightening. Does he tell you the truth, about how he'd been completely devastated and ridden with guilt for the last two months?

"N-Not great..." he looked down at his lap, unable to hold eye contact with you. He tapped his foot on the floor, his knee bouncing anxiously.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No, don't apologise. You don't need to; for anything," he shook his head, still averting your gaze. "This was all me. I took you for granted and I-" he couldn't finish that sentence, nausea overwhelming him at the thought of that drunken night with a meaningless girl. "I do though, if you'll let me..."

You waited patiently for him to continue, willing him to say whatever he needed to. You were in the headspace to listen now.

"I don't know why things changed, or when. But I took you for granted, y/n. I expected too much from you and gave you nothing back and that's not fair. And then I blamed you for it, as if it was your fault at all. I got mad at you when you did to me what I was doing to you and I was too arrogant to see that I was the problem. And then I... I fucking ruined everything with my god damn stupidity. I don't know why I did it, but I was out of my fucking mind, y/n. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he babbled, telling you everything he had rehearsed in his head for weeks in one breath.

He looked up at you to see your eyes glistening with a wash of tears threatening to fall. You saw the vulnerability in him, and you hated it. You loved his confidence; it was one of the first things that attracted you to him. Seeing him so anxious and beaten down was killing you.

"I know you're not that person, Hobi," you spoke softly, the use of his pet name delicately soothing.

"Thank you... for seeing that, I mean. I don't expect you to forgive me I just, I wanted to at least try and tell you how sorry I am." A tear slipped down his cheek. It broke your heart. Hoseok never cried, you knew this. The last time being at the MAMA awards in Japan last year.

You reached forward, wiping the tear away with the cuff of your sleeve and sitting back, taking a sip of your cocoa. He smiled, picking his mug up from your coffee table and taking a sip himself. A thick moustache of whipped cream settled on his top lip, and you laughed aloud. He played it dumb, leaving it there and looking at you with confusion.

"What?" he asked. "What's so funny?" You giggled at the goofball; he always did stupid little thing like this to make you laugh. You reached forward again, swiping your finger over his top lip and gathering most of the cream on the tip of your finger, waving it at him before popping it in your mouth.

He laughed shyly, licking the rest of the cream from his top lip with his eyes watching for your reaction. He just wanted to see you smile, to rid your beautiful eyes of that glossy coating of tears. It seemed to work, but the pair of you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other.

Without thinking, he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing over your cheek so tenderly. He held his hand there, his thumb roaming back and forth over your cheek bone. He forgot how smooth your skin felt, how soft you were. It had used to drive him crazy.

You relaxed into his touch, your head leaning into his palm, eyes closing blissfully.

"I missed you..." he whispered like he didn't mean for you to hear it, but you did.

"I still miss you, Hobi..." you whined, looking up to him once again. He leaned forward, eyes dropping to your lips. God, he wanted to kiss them. He missed how you felt against his lips, how you tasted.

You willed him to follow his urges, to just lean in that little bit more and press his lips to yours. You wanted nothing more in that moment.

As if you were both linked by some form of mild telepathy, he did just that.

Your lips pressed together, barely touching but immediately you felt a spark; the same spark you had felt the first time you kissed him at the end of the very first date you had. You pushed yourself closer to him a little, relaxing against his lips and letting yourself enjoy the feeling again.

He pulled back slightly, his lips barely hovering over yours.

"I missed you," he repeated, his warm, chocolate flavoured breath spanning across the sensitive skin.

"I'm right here," you assured him, nuzzling your nose gently against his. He kissed you again, a little deeper this time. Carefully, you placed your mug of cocoa down on the coffee table and used your now free hands to fist the material of his hoodie and pull him a little closer to you. You sighed into his lips when his hand moved to the back of your neck, pressing you against him a little firmer.

It felt as if electric shocks were running down your spine in a regular current. Goosebumps raised on your skin at his touch, your whole body feeling so alive for the first time in so long. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins and before you knew it you found yourself pushing Hobi back against the couch, swinging your leg over his lap to straddle his thighs without ever disconnecting your lips.

His hands roamed to your waist, fingers pressing into you as he gripped you. On some level he was terrified to let you go in case you ran from him again. He wasn't sure he could cope with that.

"Do you love me, Hobi?" you asked him, lips brushing against the edge of his mouth.

"So much... I love you so fucking much, y/n," he didn't even think about it for a heartbeat; he didn't need to.

"Show me," you breathed against him, peppering open-mouthed kisses to his jawline and grinding your hips down against his own beneath you.

His hands lifted the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head when you lifted your arms for him. You did the same for him, peeling his hoodie off him, followed by his t-shirt. You writhed against him, both of you shirtless as your kisses turned more heated, sloppy.

You reached behind you, unclasping your bra and pulling it off your arms to discard it with the growing pile of clothing strewn across the couch. His hands felt hot against your back, pressing you chest-to-chest with him.

The heat of the kiss rose, Hobi using his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip and open you up to him. There was no battle for dominance, no fight between the both of you; you were just so desperate to taste each other again after so long.

Hobi dropped his hands to your thighs, still clad in the thick leggings you had worn to keep warm yet comfortable. He slid them underneath, using his strength to lift you and wrap your legs around his waist as he stood up. Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you as your lips worked together still.

He didn't need to be able to see to know where he was going as he carried you into your bedroom; he knew your apartment so well.

He lay you down on your bed, hovering over you and dragging his lips from yours, down your neck to suckle just above your collar bone where he knew you liked the feeling. He let his lips wonder down your chest, between your breasts and down to just above your belly button.

"Hobi..." you whined his name, blissfully engrossed in the feeling of his little wet kisses down your body. He tugged on your leggings, rolling them slowly down your hips as his mouth chased the lowering line of fabric. Just as he was about to expose you, he lifted his lips from your skin, instead focusing on pulling the leggings down your legs with your underwear in one smooth motion and throwing them to the floor.

And then his lips found your skin again, this time the inside of your thigh. He switched between nudging his nose against the flesh to peppering kisses and leaving a little wet trail up the skin. Your hands wound themselves in his hair just feeling how soft the slightly outgrown locks still were.

He let his kisses trail over your pubic bone, tickling you as he got closer and closer to your heat. The build-up to this moment had already had an effect on you, your folds glistening deliciously in front of Hoseok. He kissed the mound of your sensitivity, his eyes flickering back up to look at you to watch your reaction when he finally, slowly, nudged his tongue out past his lips to swipe over your slit.

A soft little moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as Hobi worked his magic on you. He knew what buttons to push, knew what each of your little reactions meant, knew exactly how to please you. His lips circled your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth, drawing a sharp moan from you and making your back arch from the mattress. Your hands weaved into his hair, pulling at it from the roots as you desperately clung onto him.

He loved the way you tasted, savouring it on his tongue. He was driving you crazy, working tirelessly to build the tension in your stomach, nerves tingling all through your body.

Your climax was heading towards you like a steam train about to plough off the rails, building and building so fast... You didn't want to cum like this, you wanted him to completely give himself over to you like he used to, to bring the two of you together.

"S-stop... Hobi, stop," you tapped your hand on his head, pushing him away from you. He sat up on his knees, confused and frankly, terrified. Had you changed your mind? Had you decided you didn't want him after all? Not even just this once?

You chuckled a little as the feeling in your pelvis receded. He was adorable, but you understood where his fear was coming from.

"No, I don't want you to stop. I just didn't wanna finish like that," you reached for the hem of his pants, pulling him by his hips towards you and crushing your lips to his. You could taste yourself, lingering. "Want you," you mumbled against his lips. "Want this," your hand lowered to the outline of him through his pants, hard and ready for you.

He pulled himself away from you, wanting nothing more than just what you were asking for. He shuffled himself out of the rest of his clothing, baring himself to you for the first time in so long. You'd almost forgotten the way he was so sculpted, head to toe. You traced your fingers from the dip in his collar bone, down the middle of his chest and across the dips of his abs and the distinct 'V' shape, finally grazing your fingers tips right to the end of his hardened length. He twitched beneath you, breath catching in his throat and you smiled cockily; you had him completely under your spell.

He crawled up to meet your lips with his own once again, hungry and needy for your affection. His hips pressed into yours, his member coating in your slick. He groaned against your lips, rocking up against you for the friction he craved. You simply spread your thighs a little wider, hands winding around his neck and inviting him in.

"Are you still on the pill?" he asked between kisses, remembering what your preferred method of birth control had been.

"Uh-huh," your voice sounded whiny, willing him to enter you already. "Please, Hobi..."

He dipped his head to look down between you as he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing the tip in just a little. He always knew to go slow with you at first; his size was above average and moving too quickly would be uncomfortable for you. You were grateful for his thoughtfulness, noticing each time he remembered something about you that you liked or didn't like. He hadn't forgotten, always had been paying attention.

Slowly, inch by inch, he filled you. The delicious stretch of your walls felt magical, a long and deep breath filling your lungs and your eyes rolling back into your head. Hobi didn't move for a moment, savouring the feeling of being completely enveloped in your warmth. But he couldn't ignore the way your hips grew impatient, raising marginally from the sheets to encourage him.

Drawing his hips back slowly felt sensational for you, every tiny little sensitive spot inside you igniting at the feeling. Hobi didn't want to rush; he wasn't sure how long this would last. This could be the last time he got the chance to make love to you, to show you how deeply he cared about you. For all he knew, you were just caught up in the moment and giving into the urges that everybody had here and there...

But this was so much more to you.

He pushed himself against you again, grinding his hips against you until he bottomed out completely and rocking back again.

"F-fuck..." he groaned, fingertips digging into your hips. His pace quickened a little, still dragging himself out of you slowly to relish the act. He felt so good, so completely vulnerable and yet willing to give you everything he had.

Your fingers played with the strands of his hair that tickled his neck, your nose pressed into his and eyes watching him with heavy lids. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, still rolling into you and sending wave after wave of bliss through you.

He couldn't keep himself from moving faster after a little while though, the need for both of you to reach your climax overpowering his desire to revel in the moment.

"God, I missed you," he breathed against your neck, his hot breath warming you to the core. You struggled to concentrate on him, the need to cum building so intensely that you were sure you wouldn't last much longer. "I've been so lonely, y/n... I was so fucking stupid," he gritted his teeth, ramming his cock into you now. His anger at himself and despair over losing you were propelling his drive.

"B-been lonely too," you stuttered, pulling him by his hair to look up into your eyes. "You hurt me, Hobi..." you said breathlessly with tears brimming in your eyes.

"I know... I know, and I – fuck – I'll never hurt you again I promise," his own eyes filled with tears. Sex had always been emotional to you, even when you didn't want it to be. It frustrated you to no end; sometimes you just wanted a good fuck with no emotion whatsoever. But tonight... Tonight it was needed. You need to get emotional with him.

You'd been holding yourself to a high standard of strength since the night you threw him to the curb, but it had taken his toll. You could only be so strong for so long, after all.

"I love you, y/n. I fucking love you, so much," he sobbed, ramming himself into you with such an intensity the room filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin.

"I know, baby... I know," you comforted him, whining and moaning as your orgasm approached. He pushed his lips to yours again with desperation, the salty taste of tears transferring to yours. "Shit, Hobi I'm gonna..." you couldn't finish your sentence, the words getting stuck in your throat as the world crashed down around you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a roaring moan erupted from deep in your chest. Your hold on his hair tightened impossibly. Hoseok had to use all his strength to keep you from pulling his face down into your neck. You couldn't control it though, the intensity of your pleasure causing your limbs to spasm.

You contracted around Hobi, tightening and squeezing him from inside. It tipped him over the edge, a loud grunt vibrating through his chest as the warm spurts of cum filled you. He never stopped thrusting into you though, riding your high out with him as your pussy milked him for every last drop he had.

He lost his balance, falling to lay his head against your breast and slipping out of you, chest flat against you. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, catching the breath you had lost together.

After regaining enough composure, your fingers loosened in his hair, now just fiddling with it absentmindedly. He loved the feeling, lying against you while you played with the strands. He didn't want to move, terrified to spoil the intimacy of the moment. You were content to let him lie there with you though, the two of you a sweaty mess of limbs.

"I love you too, Hobi," you confessed. It didn't feel like a confession though; it felt like you were telling him something you already knew.

He lifted his head, looking up at you.

"Y-you still...?"

"Of course. Believe me, if I could have switched it off, I would have the day I slammed the door in your face but..." you sighed, giving in. "But I adore you, Jung Hoseok. Despite everything, I still love you." Hot tears fell down the sides of your head, hitting the pillow below you.

He shuffled up the bed, hovering above you and wiping the tears as they fell.

"Why did you come here tonight, Hobi? Really..." you asked, needing an answer.

"Everyone went home for the holidays, I was sat alone in the dorm and thinking of you. How you'd either be in the bath surrounded by your potions to make you smell good or cover yourself in glitter or wrapped up on the couch watching Home Alone with your damn cocoa," he chuckled. "I missed you. Christmas has always been lonely for me and then I found you; someone to enjoy the holidays with. I just wanted to see you and I found myself walking over here..."

You smiled at him, running your thumb over his cheek.

"I don't want you to be alone on Christmas, Hobi," you sympathised. "Stay; I was going to cook for myself tomorrow anyway. But it makes very little sense for two people who love each other to spend Christmas Day alone, don't you think?" Your question didn't need an answer, but he gave one anyway.

"Very little sense..." he repeated, placing his lips to your forehead and lingering a second longer than deemed normal.

Last Christmas had been so perfect, spent with you in your apartment just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. There was now absolutely no reason at all that this Christmas couldn't be just as wonderful.

Talking could wait, not that there was any need. He knew it would take you time to trust him again, but you also knew that you had forgiven him. The healing process could begin, both of you learning from the mistakes made and growing stronger from them.

For now, you both still loved each other. That was enough.

[taehyungiestummy]

Stuck -- Chapter Six

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Word Count: 2534

           “Damn it,” I groan, curling into a tighter ball on the bed. Cramps have been hitting hard this morning, and my pain pill is taking forever to kick in.

           Haipeo whimpers, snuggling into my back. She’s only been with e a few days, and she already reacts like I raised her from a puppy.

           Keyowo licks my face multiple times in an effort to cheer me up. She ends up lying down and just looking at me.

           “Yes, she is in a lot of pain,” Taehyung says into his phone as he walks out of the bathroom. His hair still wet form the shower he finished just minutes ago, and shorts his only article of clothing.

           I smile at the body of my boyfriend. He has a toned back with firm shoulders. His arms don’t really show it, but they are muscular. His chest is smooth and strong. It is his soft tummy that I love the most.

           “Thank you,” Taehyung says before ending the call.

           “Tae,” I call out.

           “Hm?” He looks over at me. “Oh, jagi,” he rushes over to my side, placing his phone down on the bedside table.

           “Who was that?” I tenderly smile.

           “Just Mr. Son,” he smooths hair out of my face. “I wanted to let him know you won’t be coming in today.”

           “Oh,” I pout. “This sucks.”

           “I know,” he kisses my forehead. “You’ll be good tomorrow, but today won’t be terrible. A day home with our dogs. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

           “I just want to be with you,” I sigh. “One day will be fine.”

           “I’ll sing for you when I get back. How does that sound?”

           “Wonderful,” I giggle as Haipeo and Keyowo perk up from my improved state. “Your tummy is my new favorite thing.”

           Taehyung stands up, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Why? It’s soft and not fit.”

           “That’s why I like it. It fits you better than abs. A cute tummy for a cute man.”

           “I can be more than cute,” he trials his fingers lightly up my arm.

           “Oh, I know. I have watched you on stage.”

           “If you need anything today, remember, I am just a call away. Do not hesitate to call for my help.”

           “I won’t,” I reach out to poke his stomach. “Tell the boys what’s up.”

           “No worries, I’ve already sent out a text in our group chat.”

           “Looks like you have your shit together,” I slowly sit up. “Can you get take-out on your way home?”

           “Of course,” Taehyung leans in and gives me a kiss. “I need to finish getting ready, and then I’ll be off.”

           “Am I a distraction?” I innocently bat my eyelashes.

           “Hell yes you are,” he presses a hard kiss to my lips. “A good one. Helps me stay sane.”

           “Get going, Tae,” I shove him away. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you get home.”

********

           “Tae,” Jimin sits down next to the younger boy. “Are you okay?”

           “What?” Taehyung snaps out of the thoughts of his hurting girlfriend.

           “Seriously dude, what is on your mind that you can’t focus?” Jimin slings his arm around the shoulders of the other boy.

           “Amber’s here to stay, there’s no need to worry about that,” Jungkook speaks up as he goes through some of the choreography again.

           “I’m not worrying about that,” Taehyung waves the youngest boy off, “When I left this morning, she was curled into a ball as a wave of cramps was taking her. Here I am, having fun as I work, and I should be home taking care of her.”

           “She’s been having periods for years, Taehyung,” Yoongi steps up to be right in front of Taehyung. “Little one is tough, and I know she’ll pull through this like she always does. She doesn’t need you to baby her. She knows what to do.”

           Taehyung releases a frustrating sigh. “I won’t baby her. I just want to take care of my girlfriend when she’s in pain.”

           “You’ll be able toa after practice, and the many more times she’s in pain. Not to mention the countless times you’ve already helped her.”

           “Nari said Emily went over and checked on her,” Seokjin adds in as he hold the door into the practice room open for Hoseok and Namjoon. “She’s doing fine, Tae.”

           “Amber has painkillers,” Namjoon adds. “So the pain will be masked until it fades away.”

           “Kids tough,” Hoseok begins dancing with Jungkook. “She also knows how much she can take. If she were doing really bad, she’d call one of us. I know that for sure.”

           Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, “I guess so. It just sucks.”

           “I know it does, Tae,” Yoongi pats the younger boys shoulder. “I’d love to have her here as well. It’s just one day, so both of us can cheer up and make it through the day. Besides, I’m sure she’s lying around missing us too.”

********

           “They call me, baepsae,” I shout out the lyrics as I dance around the apartment. The painkillers kicked in not too long after Taehyung, pushing the pain down to a dull pulse in my lower abdomen. I was able to get up and make myself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. Then I look a long hot shower to relax my tense muscles. Emily stopped by to check in on my as well, and we talked for a bit which was nice.

           Of course, I can’t just sit around while I wait for my boyfriend and take-out, so I’ve been playing a K-pop playlist. I have a lot of groups I need to look into, but that can wait.

           “I’ve got a crow-tit’s legs, and you have a stork’s legs. They all say their legs are worth a million bucks. My legs are shorter, so how do you expect me to keep up? They say it shouldn’t matter since we’re coming from the same place,” I perfectly rap along with Yoongi. “Never, never, never.”

           Haipeo rushes passed me into the kitchen with Keyowo hot on her tail. The two get along better than I could have ever hoped.

           I fix my booty shorts as I walk over to the bookshelf holding my notebooks, mumbling the BTS song.

           After I realized I was going to be home alone for most of the day, my confidence soared, and my outfit shows it. My blue booty shorts show everything, and that includes my big thigh. The cut-up t-shirt with puppies on it exposes my tummy and lower back. My feet are covered in socks with penguins on them.

           The song switches as I pull a journal off the shelf. Instantly I recognize it as “Congratulations” by Day6.

           “Yes, this song rocks,” I walk over to the couch, tossing the journal by my pencil.

           The whole day hasn’t been filled with singing and dancing as it may seem. I made myself lunch while just listening to music. I’ve also been writing poems, anecdotes, and planning a new story. I also took some time to fix up my Instagram. The profile pictures is now of Taehyung and me, and starting now it will be used to give ARMY’s a better inside look of my life and the boys. They already seem to be liking the idea. A video of Haipeo and Keyowo was the first thing I put up and was so well received. No hate comments to be seen.

           Haipeo lets out a bark as she rushes to the front door.

           “Haipeo,” I scold. “Bad girl,” I shake my head, turning away to get back to playing air guitar.

           It doesn’t click in my mind that the husky heard the rattling of keys signaling Taehyung’s return. The dog has rushed back into the room before the thought even flickers in my brain.

           The smell of take-out makes my stomach growl, but I can’t take my focus off the music.

           It’s not until two tan arms wrap around my middle that I realize I’m no longer home alone.

           “Oh my gosh, Tae,” I jump in his grasp, scared for only a second.

           “This is how I want to come home on the rare times you are here without me, princess,” Taehyung nuzzles his face into my neck, placing opened mouth kisses on the skin.

           “Tae, why didn’t you call,” I pour. “I would have gotten dressed.”

           The song changes again, this time to “Adore U” by Seventeen.

           “But you aren’t naked,” he pulls his head away form my neck. “Plus, you look super sexy.”

           “Really?” I feel my cheeks heat up.

           “Yes, really. I love you when you are drowning in sweatshirts, and I love this showing of skin. You are beautiful, jagi.”

           “I’m just insecure, you know that.”

           “That’s why I am telling you just how amazing you look,” he places a kiss to my cheek. “I will do whatever it takes for you to always love your body.”

           “I’ve come a long way.”

           “I know you have, and I am so proud. Body positivity all the time. That’s how I try to be.”

           I open my mouth to reply, but am cut off as my stomach growls.

           Taehyung giggles, “That is too cute.” He gently pinches my stomach. “Are you hungry, princess?”

           “Very. That food smells so good,” I turn my face to get the first glimpse of my boyfriend since he got home. “Good thing you remembered.”

           “I’ve been thinking of you all day, so it would have been hard to forget,” he lovingly smiles.

           “You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” I push my lips onto his for a quick kiss. “My man is here to protect me and make me feel better.”

           He grins, “Let’s get our food so your stomach becomes happy, and you can tell me all about your home along adventures.”

           I giggle, “That sounds wonderful, Tae. You have to tell me about your day too, though. It’s only fair.”

           He presses a hard kiss to my lips, chuckling afterwards. “Of course. Now come on, I want to hear what you did all day without me.”

********

           “I’m not as nervous as I was last time we took a train to see your family,” I smile as I tear my gaze from the window to look at Taehyung. “Not that I’m not a bit scared at how your extended family is going to react, because I am. I just feel better knowing your sister will be there.”

           “She’s excited to see you again,” Taehyung grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. “My family missed you, jagi.”

           “That’s good. That means they really liked me, and it wasn’t a façade.”

           “Of course they like you,” he pushes my glasses up my nose. “You are kind, speak Korean, and are such a ball of sunshine. Plus, you are just so cute,” he presses a kiss to my nose.

           I giggle, scrunching up my face for a moment. “You’re just saying that.”

           “Nope,” he shakes his head. “It’s all true. If you don’t believe me, there are many others who can say I am right. Do I need to list them off?”

           I giggle, “No, no. I believe you. I know the boys will tell me how cute, funny, loveable, and so much more that they always say I am. Emily and Nari too.”

           “Then why question it?” He pouts. “Jagi, you did it yesterday too.”

           “I’m sorry,” I pat his cheek. “It’s just shocking. After ten months apart, compliments in person have a different effect. Over Skype is one thing, but we are together again.”

           “I guess I understand. Now I can see all of you, and you have to get used to it again.”

           “That’s actually right. My flaws are much clearer than over a web camera.”

           “I love everything about you. Even what you call flaws. Your tummy, thighs, acne, and whatever else. I love all of you so much.”

           “I love whatever you think of flaws too, Tae.”

           He cups my face in his big hands, “I know you do. You love me for me, and I love you for you. We fit together like two puzzle pieces.”

           “That is so cheesy,” I place my hands on his. “You are adorable.”

           He places a tender kiss on my lips, “You are more adorable, princess.”

           “I can’t believe you love my acne,” I pull his hands off my cheeks.

           “Pimples are just little friends. Plus, everyone gets acne. It makes you human. I get acne, and so does Jungkook. All of us get it on occasion. We can do face masks together.”

           “That sounds fun. I have always wanted to try one of those masks. My forehead has an outrageous number of pimples.”

           “I know. I saw them when you were getting ready in the bathroom this morning. You are so cute,” he moves my bands out of the way, littering kisses all over my forehead.

           I squeal, pulling away from my boyfriend. “Taehyung, you are too crazy.”

           He lets out a deep chuckle, “I’m just showing my jagiya how much I love her.”

           “Well, can you tone it down just a little bit? I love skin-ship, don’t get me wrong. Just, now that we know that people take pictures every time they see us, and I don’t want a lot of kissy pictures. Unless taken by us or our friends.”

           “Of course,” he grabs my hands. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. I’ll try to stop being all over you in public.”

           “Just ask if its going to be a bit touchier than normal. Skin-ship is lovely, but I get a bit shy and anxious in public.”

           “I understand, jagi. You get flustered easy, and you don’t’ like it.”

           “Thank you, babe. You are very considerate. Grandma raised a good boy,” I poke his cheeks.”

           “She did,” he flashes a boxy smile. “I just love seeing you smile and be happy. Your eyes get all squinty when you give a big smile. Its so cute,” he coos, tickling my sides for a second, and then he pulls me into his lap.

           “Tae,” I gasp, squirming to try to get off of Taehyung’s lap. My face heating up in embarrassment. “Please, you just said you would hold off on skin-ship in public.”

           “We are one of the only people in this car, and the other’s can’t see us,” he presses a sloppy kiss to my cheek, and then one to my jaw. “Jungkook was so excited to be taking care of our puppies today. Yoongi-hyung said he’s check in when he could. I’m sure the other boys will stop by. Besides Namjoon-hyung. He’s on a date with Emily.”

           I sigh, snuggling into Taehyung’s chest. “Nice change of subject there, Taehyungie. Embarrassing me, such a meanie.”

           “No, I’m not mean,” he gives me a squeeze, rubbing our cheeks together. “I’m the best boyfriend to you. Sure, I make mistakes, but everyone does.”

           “Okay, maybe you aren’t that mean,” I tease. “You are the best, Tae-Tae. I promise. Without you, I’d be stuck in America, not as happy, and with less friends.”

           “I love you, Amber,” Taehyung kisses my temple. “Today is going to be a lot of fun.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed reading! Scenes are probably going to seem a bit shorter because I am not going to do much editing to make them longer. Still, I think you will enjoy! :D

[writtingsofspn]

Pity

Summary: Dean comforts you after a guy stands you up, little do you know it’s because of him

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: lots of angst, lots of fluff, swearing

A/N: So no request for this it’s just the kind of fic i needed to read tonight so I thought I would share it with all of you. Hope you like it

Part 2

You hummed softly as you got as close to the mirror as you could, your mouth opening just slightly as you applied a last bit of mascara, smiling at the finished product before getting off your toes and allowing your torso to return back to its upright position.

It may have taken you three hours but at least you finally looked presentable, like a normal person. All it took was a shower, blow dry, curled hair, five pounds of makeup, and the cutest dress you could find. And though you would complain about the amount of work that went into your look any chance you got there was a large part of you that didn’t really mind. You spend most of your time in ripped jeans and flannels, never having an excuse to put on makeup, so now that you had the chance to actually put some effort into your look you went all out.

This was your first date in god knows how long and you were damned if you weren’t going to look amazing. Usually you couldn’t get so much as a second glance from any guy, let alone a date. You can still remember a time months ago you went all out for a night at a bar with the boys, wearing a shirt so tight and revealing you could’ve sworn Dean’s eyes were going to pop out of his skull at the sight of you in something that wasn’t a flannel. But still you received zero attention, spending the entire night with the Winchesters nursing a whiskey alone, it sure as hell didn’t feel good.

In fact the only reason you had this date tonight was because the guy who hit on you was too drunk to see straight. Dean left the table to go talk to some guy across the bar, something he did quite frequently when you all went out but never explained, and Sam went up to the bar to refill drinks allowing him to slide into the seat next to you, put his arm around your shoulder, and quite aggressively hit on you before texting you the next day offering to buy you dinner as an apology. You were going on a pity date.

Had you been in any right mind state you would have said no, this guy was Definity not your type, though your type was tens and you were a three on a good day so you really needed to get over your type, but he wasn’t what you wanted. Romance novels and movies had spoiled you and what you needed right now was to be in love, legit love.

You wanted someone who noticed all of your quirks and thought they were cute, who stared at you for no other reason than thinking you were beautiful, who wanted to give you the world because he thought you deserved it. It was a high bar and you knew it but this realization came when you found yourself feeling all of these things for another person.

You found yourself staring at him when you were supposed to be researching one day in some dingy motel room, practically drooling over his chiseled jaw line alone let alone the freckles, the green eyes, the sandy hair, the stubble, the everything when you leaned back and realized you wanted someone to love you as much as you loved Dean Winchester.

So even though you knew this guy was not going to give you any of that you still agreed to go on a date with him because he was the first guy to even come close.

God that’s pathetic.

-

Sam strolled from the kitchen with a beer in hand just in time to see Dean slink into the bunker with his head hung low and a locked jaw.

“What were you doing out there?”

Dean nearly jumped in the air in surprise, rage and jealously coursing through him enough that he hadn’t even notice his brother. “A guy was lost” He tried to keep his emotions from sinking into his voice.

Sam wasn’t buying it for a second, he’d known his brother long enough to be able to read him like a book and a simple look at the clock was all it took for him to know what was going on “that guy didn’t happen to be Y/N’s date did he?”

Dean had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at his brothers disappointed tone. This night was bad enough, he had just found out you were going on a date with some guy you apparently met in a bar because despite his best efforts he couldn’t keep all of them off of you, and he lost money bribing the asshole. He did not need this from Sam too. “Mind your own business Sammy”

Sam didn’t even have the energy to correct him at this point, more than over with his brother dancing around you, not letting anyone talk to you but never working up the courage to do it himself. “You know you’re hurting her”

Dean didn’t even hesitate to brush Sam’s words aside. You were a total badass, the bravest person he knew, you could take on a whole nest of vamps by yourself no problem, there’s no way him just weeding out the assholes was doing anything to you “yeah whatever”

“I mean it” Sam pressed, almost unable to believe how blind his brother was “Dean she was excited for this date”

“She’ll be fine” Dean insisted, knowing it to be true, or rather needing it to be “that guy was an asshole, only took twenty bucks for him to turn around”

Sam shook his head at his brother, is this really what it had come to? Bribing your dates to stay away from you “Then what about all the other guys Dean?”

“What the ones at the bar?” Dean asked, not understanding why Sam thought this was such a big deal “They’re all douchebags who just want to get into her pants, she deserves more”

“Then make a move yourself” Sam let his words hang in the air for a bit, this was the most he had pushed Dean on the subject. He had promised himself he was going to stay out of it as soon as he noticed his brother’s feelings but that was months ago, it was time for him to make a decision.

Dean dropped his head, feeling the pit in his stomach grow “I told you…she deserves more”

-

Dean strolled by your room, doing his best to make it look casual but dropping it as soon as he saw you sitting on your bed, staring at your hands. He could feel his heart leap up into his throat, Sam was right, you had been excited. You were in a dress Dean had never seen on you before, one you always insisted you were saving for a special occasion whenever he asked you about it. You of course looked amazing in it but really? This was your special occasion.

“Y/N what’s with the getup? Got a hot date?” He nearly chocked on the words as he said them, his brain not taking to the time to think before he spoke.

“Had” You corrected him, a lump forming at the base of Dean’s throat as he heard your voice quiver “He just texted me, he changed his mind”

Dean could feel the anger seer through him at your explanation, the idiot had the entire ride home and that was the best he could come up with.

You looked up at Dean, nearly exploding at the look of concern in his eyes. You wiped desperately at your eyes, you were not about to cry in front of him “it’s fine it was just a pity date anyways”

Dean didn’t think it was possible to regret his actions more than he already did but those words did it. The quiver in your voice was his fault, the mascara stains were his fault, everything you said was his fault and he could feel himself breaking up on the inside because of it. “What do you mean pity date?”

You watched him, staring into those gorgeous green eyes and wanting nothing more to break down in his chest and let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were sure there were other ways he wanted to spend the night and once you told him what was going through your head he was going to drop everything and comfort you, out of pity. If there was anything you learned tonight it was that anything done out of pity wasn’t worth your time.

“Nothing, I’m fine, I wasn’t that invested in the date anyways”

Dean saw right through your lie, of course he saw right through your lie “with all the work you’ve put into yourself tonight I just don’t believe that sweetheart”

Your heart normally swelled whenever he called you sweetheart, your body aching at the thought of him doing it because you were his and not just because you were friends. But not tonight, tonight you fixated on the rest of the sentence. You were tired, you were beaten, you were broken. A big part of you knew you were being stupid, knew you were overthinking, overreacting, but another part of you didn’t care. Anger was something to feel other than the emptiness in your chest.

“’All that work’ right cause for me to look even halfway decent I’d have to put in a ton of work, right?’ Your words dripped with seething anger. You were picking a fight, something you knew was wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the consequences.

“No-that’s not what I meant” The words came rushing out of Dean as he got on his knees in front of you, all but begging you to not be mad at him, he wasn’t sure he could handle that at this point.

“Whatever just get out Dean” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing if you did you’d crack and it’d all be over.

Dean stayed for a moment, silently pleading with you, he wanted to stay and help, he needed to be here for you. Only getting to his feet when you yelled at him, angry tears running down your face as you pushed him out and slammed the door behind him.

Immediately you dropped to your knees and hugged them to your chest as loud sobs racked your body, you didn’t even try to quiet them, letting the ugly cries right through the bunker.

Dean stood back in shock, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he listened to you sob, he did this to you, he was trying to protect you from stupid asshole and therein became the biggest asshole of them all.

He sat down with his back to your door and just listened, fighting back his own tears as his fingers itched to soothe you.

It took you much longer than he would have liked to finally stop crying, what felt like hours going by before your sobs were no longer audible, before he could bring himself to speak willing his voice to stay strong. “Y/N. Please just let me in”

You didn’t even hesitate, pulling yourself to your feet and opening the door and throwing yourself into his arms. Dean held you as tight as he could, pressing his cheek to the top of your head almost afraid you were going to break in his arms.

He stood there for some time, willing himself to be strong for you, to keep his own emotions in check and only reluctantly letting you go after you made the first move.

He stared down at you for a moment before reaching out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and wiping at the black streaks that ran down your face. He swallowed heavily before speaking “Do you want to change into some comfy clothes?”

You looked down at yourself, almost forgetting about the dress before looking up at him and nodding, feeling much like a kid going to their parents for comfort after skinning their knee.

Dean smiled softly, and put a hand on the small of your back, leading you out of your room “Alright come on”

“My clothes” You sniffed out as you tried to turn around to go back into your room.

“Don’t worry sweetheart” Dean assured you, leading you down the hallway to his own room “I’ve got you”

You stood awkwardly in the middle of his room as he went over to the dresser, pulling out a t-shirt.

For the first time in your life it felt like not a single thought was running through your head, you couldn’t even relish the feeling of having Dean care of you, you felt so defeated at this point everything was just kind of numb.

“Here” Dean said, handing you his favorite t-shirt with a comforting smile “I’ll go grab some makeup removed while you change.

You just nodded, barley taking note of him leaving before stripping and pulling on the t-shirt and letting it drop to your thighs, standing in the same spot till Dean came back.

A shaky breath escaped his lips the moment he saw you in his t-shirt, his heart pounding and his knees going weak at the sight. You looked at him curiously and he froze on the spot, unable to stop himself from admiring how amazing you looked in his clothes.

You reached out to receive the bottle, snapping Dean out of his trance as he brushed your hands away and sat you down on his bed, getting to work on the cotton pad himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh as he started to wipe at your face, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as he tried to carefully remove your makeup. Dean felt himself melt at the sound, under any normal circumstances he loved the sound of your laugh but hearing it now was quite possibly the biggest relief in the world. “There, no more mascara stains”

“Thank you” You both knew your words meant more than just a thank you for the makeup, he had already done so much for you tonight that you couldn’t help but feel that you should get up and leave him alone for a bit, go back to bed, hope things will feel better in the morning. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stand.

“Alright” Dean mumbled as he stood up and set the bottle down before getting on his bed and leaning his torso against the head bored, holding his arms open for you. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight before sitting down next to him, your back leaning up against his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you. “Tell me what happened”

He had to force himself to pay attention to your words as you explained. You had just sprayed perfume on for your date and the scent was intoxicating, It reminded him of better times, of stupid bets made in bars that he always let you win, of watching you do research while pretending to do some of his own, of seeing your proud smile as you wrapped up a case.

“He only wanted to go to dinner because he felt bad about hitting on me the night before” You explained, not noticing Dean’s embrace getting slightly tighter as you spoke. Seems as though you picked a man who had the whole package, sucked at both picking up and breaking up with women. “then he texted me never mind and that was that”

Dean felt you relax more into his embrace as a small weight lifted itself off your chest, loving the feeling of having you in his arms even despite the circumstances. “The guy sounds like a real asshole. Why were you so invested in the date?”

He could feel you tense up slightly at his words but didn’t regret them, he needed to know. “I just haven’t been in a date in a while you know” You started, honestly unsure of how you were going to end the sentence “guys don’t ever pay attention to me, even when I’m trying, so since he displayed just the slightest bit of attraction towards me I got excited”

Dean could feel his chest cave in, you didn’t know. You didn’t know you drew the head of every guy in whatever building you stepped into, that with the slightest look you had guys chomping at the bit to just talk to you, that Dean had threatened more than a hundred guys to stay away from you over the past few months. Dean really had hurt you. “Y/N-“

You cut him off immediately “I know what you’re going to say dean and no offense but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want clichés about how it’s going to get better or whatever” You weren’t sure you could handle hearing that there were plenty of fish in the sea knowing you couldn’t even catch one of them. “I think I’m just going to go to bed”

Dean squeezed you tightly before you could move, before you had a chance to protest “You know you could just stay here tonight”

“No that’s ok I don’t want to impose”

He didn’t let up, squeezing you “Please”

You could never say no to that man, not that you really wanted to in this case “Alright”

Quickly dean jumped off the bed and turned off the light, getting into bed and not hesitating before pulling you into him, your head resting comfortably on his chest and arm draped around his torso.

Dean just stared at the ceiling, unable to bring himself to fall asleep. He put you through so much tonight and for what? Nothing. You still had no idea how he felt about you, about what he did behind your back. There was still a big chance you were going to wake up tomorrow feeling just as shitty about it as you did today. If ever there was a time to come clean it was now. But feeling you pressed against his side, in his favorite t-shirt, your chest rising and falling slowly as you slept, your scent hanging in the air, his hands sliding softly through your hair.

He couldn’t do it. At least not today.

[vincess-princess]

What Is Lost, What Is Found

Chapter 2.

Word count: 3493 Trigger warnings: none

The next morning Mick raked clean a good half of the snack stalls in the store near his shop. He didn’t have a fridge in his store, or he would get some more decent food than chips, cookies and chocolate bars. He probably looked like an oversized ten-year-old who accidentally got ahold of twenty dollars, but at least he could be sure the kids would eat it. Kids always love things like these. Super unhealthy, yes, but better to eat snacks than nothing at all.

Mick left the bag in the back room conveniently open in case Tommy would be too shy to ask directly or straight up dig into it right there. He highly doubted Tommy would take it without permission, but how could he be so certain about a boy he only talked to for half an hour before?

He, however, was; he had no clue why.

When Mick headed to the door to open the store, some little part of him expected Tommy to already stand behind the door, pressing his face into the glass in an attempt to get a peek of what was inside. Of course, Tommy didn’t. Of-fucking-course, he wouldn’t have come so goddamn early. Teenage boys always sleep a lot, especially if they don’t have to go to school. Or he could be busy with his mates, lifting from some other, worse-guarded store. Or roaming the streets looking for work. Or roaming the streets looking for nothing at all. What were teenage boys even up to these days?

Enough, Mick cut himself off middle-thought. Why did he even spare those three little shitheads that much thought?

Mick went back to the register, picked up a book and began reading it. Ten pages in, he found himself not remembering a single word from what he had just read. He cursed under his breath, suppressing an urge to throw the book across the room. The book didn’t deserve such treatment just because its owner was such an idiot.

The door opened, and Mick raised his head up so abruptly a sting of pain went down his neck. A customer. Very regular, very middle-aged, very female customer. Probably gotta serve her.

During the day Mick's neck had to endure this exact same experience so many times that by the end of the day a dull pain settled in its base. At least it wasn’t debilitating, for now, just pretty fucking annoying, but it could easily become such if Mick kept up this foolish behaviour.

Berating and calling himself names in his head didn’t help much, though. Once some customer had left and no other was in sight, Mick pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the register, the one in which he found peace during the blondie's (Vince, right?) visit to his store. The bottle was almost empty. Damn. He had surely gone through a lot lately, and handling it was, apparently, too daunting for a sober mind. 

Mick looked at the bottle wistfully for a few seconds, called himself a fool one more time, finished the bottle in one long gulp and hurled it in the trash can behind his back. It missed, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up.

In the evening the flow of customers grew more steady. It helped Mick stay distracted enough - enough not to constantly cast glances towards the back room, where the bag with the snacks was still lying, untouched. Still, it was always present in the back of his mind, a silent but at the same time an incredibly loud reminder of his own naivety.

Mick closed his shop at eight p.m., as he always did. Some said this early it was unreasonable, that he was losing potential clients. Mick did and knew that - the influx of them increased greatly in the late evening when young people went hanging around the streets. But he couldn't afford hiring a shop assistant, and running the store twelve hours a day all alone was physically impossible for him, not with his goddamn back.

Mick left the bag with the snacks where it was and headed home, his heart heavy. The kid looked so enthusiastic yesterday that he had expected to find him sleeping on the doorsteps this morning. What stopped him? No, that was the wrong question. Was he mistaken about him? sounded closer to reality.

The next day went in the same fashion. Mick's anxiety grew and grew, and he had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from glancing at the window every few minutes. He didn't even know what he wanted to see there. Surely he didn't expect to see Tommy pressing his nose to the window and looking wistfully inside, did he?

Although only God probably knew what Mick could expect from that boy. “Probably” because Tommy looked like the type to act first and think second, and to predict someone’s actions in the absence of a forethought was most likely impossible even for God.

When the third day had gone by with no Tommy in sight, Mick shoved the bag with snacks into the deepest corner of the cupboard, solely because it was no good for food to lie in the middle of the room. He didn't want cockroaches in his store, right?

Fourth day passed, fifth, sixth, then Mick stopped counting. When he was taking out the trash, he found two more empty whiskey bottles in it. He didn't even notice he had drunk so much. He definitely needed to do something about it – not drop by the liquor store every other day, for example, suggested the obnoxious voice inside his head. Mick pushed it to the back of his mind, as he always did, but decided to take the suggestion into consideration. He had been trying to give up alcohol, after all.

Deep Purple's "Fireball", being quite popular with customers, got sold out, and Mick ordered no more copies. He hadn't had the chance to check it out himself, not that it really mattered. After all, it was just an album. Probably not even a very good one. Definitely not good. Not even worth giving it a try.

***

Then, about two weeks later (who did Mick try to fool, though? It was exactly twelve days after the day), Tommy came.

He stood in the doorway looking like a puppy that had just ruined the carpet, wrapping his arms around his body in what seemed a defensive gesture. His hair somehow got even messier, his sneakers dirtier. Mick recalled the rain that had poured down three days ago. Hadn't the boy heard about public laundromats?

A pang of nervousness so strong it echoed in his stomach went through Mick. He gripped the record he was holding so tightly it almost cracked while hectically trying to come up with a suitable greeting. What the fuck was even happening with him that he panicked like a virgin on a first date? This was as far from a date as it could get, and he sure as hell wasn’t a virgin.

"Mr. Mars," Tommy finally called him quietly. "Mr. Mars, do you remember me?"

Mick inhaled deeply and turned towards him.

"I told you to call me Mick, kid. Come in."

Mick wasn't sure if his carefully mastered nonchalant tone was convincing enough, but it seemed to work. Tommy beamed and ran inside, slamming the door behind him with such force Mick could feel the nearby shelves shake. The kid gasped at the sound and dashed back, then halfway through realized it was too late and ran back to him, all of that so fast Mick didn’t even blink once.

"How can I help?" Tommy tried to catch Mick’s gaze, his enthusiasm so zealous it seemed almost desperate. "I can wash the floor, dust the shelves, sort the records, make you some coffee, whatever you-"

"First things first." Mick had to interrupt him. Otherwise, he couldn’t get a word in edgeways. "Are you hungry?”

"Er…"

"I thought so. Go fetch some snacks in the back room. Third cupboard on the right."

"But I didn’t do anything yet-"

"Working on an empty stomach is no good,” Mick cut him off, his voice a little bit harsher than he intended. Tommy got the hint, though.

"Oh. Okay."

He took a few unconfident steps towards the back room and turned his head to check up on Mick. Mick didn't look back, pretending to be extremely interested in the record he just pulled out of a box. The uneasiness in the air was so thick Mick could probably grab it with his bare hands.

He let out a sigh of relief once the boy disappeared behind the door. Sure, it was going easier with Tommy than with any other kid, but that didn't mean it was actually easy.

By the time Tommy showed up Mick had pulled himself together. The boy tried to look serious, but Mick could see a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. He waved his hand with four empty chips bags in it. Mick pointed at the trash can behind the door, silently admiring the boy's, hm, capability.

Tommy must have caught something in his expression because his cheeks turned faint pink. He threw the bags into the can and turned back to Mick. "I'm sorry,” he began anxiously. Mick frowned, and he started talking even faster. “I ate too much, right? It’s just that those are my favorite chips. Haven’t had them in a while."

"Oh God, kid." Mick rolled his eyes. "All of that is for you. Take as much as you want. You're a teen, teens need to eat a lot."

"Yeah," Tommy chortled, his face switching back to enthusiasm in a heartbeat. "The guys always wonder how it all fits inside me."

"Well, you're growing, your body needs nutrients. How old are you, by the way?"

"Me? Sixteen," Tommy said quickly, then added reluctantly: "Well, almost. Still one month and a half to go."

Fifteen. Not even in high school yet. God fucking damn.

Something hot, boiling, angry rose in Mick's chest and in a matter of seconds spread within his whole body. Mick’s hands itched to throw something into the wall, and he had to make an immense mental effort to push the anger back into his subconsciousness, to deal with it later and on his own. He couldn’t do anything with it now, not in front of the kid.

Why do you even give a shit, a small, indifferent voice awoke once again in the back of his mind. You didn't care that much even when your wife dumped you.

She was a bitch, Mick retorted. Not a big loss anyway.

"You're not even eighteen. Don’t you have any relatives out there to help you until then, since you’re out of the orphanage? Aren’t they, like, legally obliged to take you in?"

Tommy's dynamic, lively face immediately hardened, as though turned into a mask, sparkles of enthusiasm in his eyes died out. Fuck, Mick realized panicky, wrong move, wrong, wrong.

"They probably are," Tommy said bleakly.

"But didn’t do it," Mick concluded quickly. "Okay, got you. So, how about we finally do some work around here?"

"Yeah!" Tommy's face lit up again - thank God, that lifeless mask was gone. "Whatever you want. I can do anything."

"Let's start with washing the floor,” Mick suggested. "You can get a mop and a bucket in the toilet."

"Just a second!" Tommy darted towards the toilet and disappeared behind the door. Something inside fell down and clattered across the floor accompanied by a loud “Shit!”. A few seconds later Tommy returned with the items, looking slightly disheveled. "Should I clean the back room too?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

Such politeness took the boy aback for a second, but he quickly recovered and strolled to the door, splashing the water all along his way. Truly a walking ball of vigorous energy, Mick thought with unexpected fondness. Although, to be fair, almost all the emotions he felt towards the boy were unexpected for him. He didn’t even know him that well, after all.

Tommy clearly put quantity above quality. Though he completed the task in a mere fifteen minutes, the floor still had stains of dirt in the corners and puddles of water with visible traces of Tommy's dirty sneakers in them.

"Sorry, kid, but that needs to be redone," Mick had to tell him, partly fearing the boy's potential reaction. And with good reason, because Tommy’s face dropped, he bit his lip anxiously. With a frantic wave of his hand, Mick managed to stop the torrent of apologies before getting flooded by them completely, but the boy still looked heartbroken.

“That’s really not a big deal,” Mick told him, trying to sound gentle. “There’s nothing bad in not getting something done well at first.”

“I kno-ow,” Tommy sighed. “But like, I never do things well. I either hurry too much and totally fuck everything up or give up in the middle.”

“So what? We all do. It’s only gonna work out if you keep trying.”

Tommy looked utterly unconvinced, but nodded anyway. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“I ain’t in a hurry, kid. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks.” Tommy grabbed the bucket and headed to the front of the store. “You’re the first to not call me lazy over that,” he said, looking anywhere but at Mick.

“Really? That’s stupid. No one can learn without a few errors first.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve got too many of them.” A stray strand of hair fell on Tommy’s face and he pushed it behind his ear with a sharp jerk of his hand. “Nevermind. I know I’m inattentive. I always overlook stuff. Just tell me when I fuck up and I’ll fix it.”

“Who told you that?” Mick was starting to get frustrated. He could see the eagerness, the enthusiasm, and that was what mattered, not some missed dirt stains. Yet the kid absolutely couldn’t see anything beyond that and automatically deemed himself a failure.

"Teachers always do.” Tommy looked at Mick in confusion, trying to understand what he was getting angry about. “Well, did.”

"Did? What, you're not going to school now?" he asked and immediately regretted it, realizing the sheer stupidity of his question. The boy wore rags, slept on the streets and often went around hungry. Of course, he wouldn't add school to his already numerous concerns.

"Nah," Tommy shook his head. "Used to. Vince and I were in the same class actually. Then he dropped out, and a lil’ bit later I did too."

"And what grade did it happen in?"

"Tenth. Don't worry, I can read, write, count and shit - sorry, uh, stuff - like that just fine," Tommy added, as though reading Mick's thoughts. "There's really nothing else school can give us, is it? For me, it was just a pile of garbage. It was so boring. I only liked music and arts."

Well, that was pretty predictable. The kid seemed like a creative type.

“It depends on the teachers, I think." Mick couldn't help but partly agree with him. His own memories about school, still fresh in his mind, weren't too far from what Tommy had described. "Although a diploma can be pretty useful in later life, y'know."

"What for?" Tommy carelessly shrugged his words off. "I'm going to be a rockstar! They don't need no diplomas."

Mick felt like he got punched right in the guts. He could have said those words some seven or eight years ago. He, in fact, did. Naive and hopeful, just like the kid in front of him.

Those eight years now felt like eighty.

It was better now, he thought with grimness unfit for such a positive thought. He had a stable, not very high, but stable income. He had a nice flat. He was his own boss and didn't have to bend to anyone’s will. It might not be an ideal life, but it was a much better life than the one he used to lead, in infested with cockroaches shelters for homeless  or shitty rental apartments. It was disillusioned and monotonous and predictable and good, right?

Right?

Through great effort, Mick cut off his own thoughts. Was he actually fucking nostalgic about the past that he had been trying to escape for so long?

The kid interpreted his prolonged silence differently.

"Mick? You don't agree?" panicky undertones trickled into his voice, no matter how much he tried to hide them. 

"What?" His voice quickly brought Mick back to reality. Christ, his expression just went slightly aloof, and Tommy already started panicking? "Oh. Well, you understand that out of all the boys that strive to be rockstars only few actually become ones, do you?"

"Of course. But why can't I be among those chosen few? You think I'm no rockstar?" Tommy asked nervously. Although Mick would rather not have this conversation, Tommy’s anxiety over his opinion was almost flattering, in a way.

"Of course not," Mick quickly corrected himself. Delving into memories made him lose caution for a second, and he couldn't afford that with Tommy. "But it's always good to have a second option in case the first... goes not as planned."

He almost said fails. Almost.

"O-oh." Tommy frowned pensively. "I haven’t considered that."

"Then it's probably a good time to do it," Mick said maybe too quickly to sound natural, but Tommy paid no mind. The foundation had been laid; now it was up to Tommy to accept or deny it. "While you're rewashing the floor, for example. Do you want me to put something on?"

Tommy beamed. "Yes, sure! Can I choose?"

"Grab whichever you want," Mick pointed at a pile of second-hand records some people had brought him to resell. Tommy practically dove into the pile with unintelligible sounds of pleasure.

Rewashing took Tommy much less than "Dressed To Kill" by Kiss lasted; Mick was careless enough to call it "some pop tunes" and was punished with an angry speech on the superiority of glam rock over any other genre. It had no effect on him, though. Jeff Beck was better than those Kiss anyway. Those were just facts.

Half of the day flew by unnoticed, and Mick only realized it was almost two when his stomach started grumbling. He usually took half an hour lunch break and headed to the nearest cafe for a sandwich and a coffee. This time, though, he was not the only worker in the shop. Mick thought of closing the store and going to the cafe with Tommy to have a proper lunch, but then another, much better thought crossed his mind.

"Tommy," he called him from where the boy was slowly wiping the shelves. He was taking out every record and examining it, holding each of them in his hands so carefully it was like they were made of glass. Mick watched him proudly from behind the register. Over the course of his career, very few customers had enough respect for the records to treat them properly.

Tommy quickly put the record in his hands back into place and ran over to him. God, did the kid even know what “walking” means?

"Do you feel like grabbing some lunch? Good,” Mick continued after Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “There's a cafe five minutes down the road, I usually eat there. Get some chicken wings and a hot dog for me and something of your choice for yourself. Here's the money." Mick handed him a fifty-dollar bill. It was much more than actually needed, but that was the plan.

Tommy stared at the money in his hand. Mick could almost see him swallowing a question.

"O-okay. I can… absolutely whatever I want?"

"Except booze, of course. And cigarettes."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. Alright. I'll go then." Tommy pushed the money in his pocket and with shaky steps headed to the door. Mick followed him with his gaze and wondered if he'd ever see him again.

He did – thirty minutes later. According to Mick’s experience, Tommy should have been back in fifteen.

"Here are your chicken wings. Oh, and a hot dog!" Tommy said cheerfully, handing Mick the change. Mick immediately spotted a couple of dollar bills. "I got a burger and some cola for myself, if that’s alright?"

"Sure, sure," Mick answered absent-mindedly, being completely absorbed in counting the money. He knew all the prices in that cafe and he knew exactly how much the boy should have spent there.

The amount of money spent and the estimated price absolutely matched.

Mick let out an audible sigh of relief. Those fifteen extra minutes had him thinking some very unpleasant thoughts. Thank god, they were all wrong.

"Are you sure a burger will be enough for you?" Mick asked, biting into a chicken wing. "You can take my hot dog, I'm not that hungry anyway."

[xiumin-on-this-shit]

A Few Good Men (Part 3 of The Good Girl Series) Ch 1: A Favor

“Do you really think you going out is a good idea?” My brother hums. He is leaning in my doorway, missing a shirt as always. I ignore him as I pull my curls into a bun, focused on making myself somewhat presentable for the first time in months. Leggings and a t-shirt seem like my best option at the moment, even after a week of being cleared, everything hurts. Wonho sighs as he comes over and pushes me to sit down on my bed. He grumbles under his breath as he grabs a pair of my leggings, without hesitation he helps me put them on before setting out in search for at t-shirt. “I’m driving you there.”

I roll my eyes at him, but lift my arms when he yanks my shirt over my head, “Feeling protective today Oppa?”

He glares at me, “You know damn well we all are. You are lucky it’s me who came up and not Jooheon, he’s down stairs ready to call Haneul to tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve been stuck inside for seven months. I need to get out and stretch, I need to go work.”

“You were in a coma for six of those months and we took you on walks so you wouldn’t get so pale. Wheeling you around like a dead body was not as easy as you would think.”

I can’t help but crack a smile, “I appreciate that and the videos Shownu took were great.”

“Yea, yea,” He sits next to me for a moment, “Thanks for not dying by the way. I don’t think any of us could have handled you not coming home.”

“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay home you need to do better.”

“I could call Dad.”

“I dare you,” An evil grin spreads across my face, “Call him and tell him Haneul asked for me to stop in for a little bit and you don’t want me to go. It’s not like she is our top customer or anything.”

He sighs again, “I’m driving.”

“Great cause I still can’t. Appreciate the shirt by the way, nice touch,” I laugh as I stare down at our generic t-shirt for the company. It’s royal blue with large white letters that spell Don’t shoot the messenger. Wonho just chuckles as he makes quick work of my socks and runners.

“You good to go down the stairs?”

“I’ll work on that while you get yourself dressed.”

“You sure?”

I nod, shooing him away, “I’ll get one of the others to help.” He listens after a few empty threats, leaving me to my own devices. Standing on too thin legs I make my way across my room and into the hall after him. I am breathless by the time I reach the stairs. Without much thought I plop down on the metal stairs and scoot down with a solid grip on the railing. IM is waiting at the bottom patiently, a small, proud smile on his face.

“All the way down, look at you,” He offers me a hand to get back on my feet. “You heading out?”

“Yep, I’ll only be gone for a little bit. Haneul just wants to check in after everything.”

“She has been extra nice since your shooting,” He points out as he escorts me towards the garage door.

“She feels responsible for me, she’s been like that since we met. I’m sure she’s just going to give me a check up and send me home with a blessing.”

“Let’s hope it’s just that,” Wonho chimes in as he joins us. “Are you feeling like a car or a motorcycle?”

“Motorcycle!”

IM scoffs, “Why do even bother asking?”

We all head into the garage, IM hands me my red leather jacket while Wonho pulls his own black one on. He climbs on the bike and offers me a hand to climb on behind.

“Be safe, okay?” IM warns as he hands us our helmets.

I tsk, “You guys worrying is going to jinx me.”

“I’ll be there the whole time, nothing will happen to her on my watch,” The other man does little to offer our brother comfort. I just roll my eyes at them as I pull my helmet on, hiding my small smile, thankful for their concern. “Ready?” Wonho’s voice echoes through the Bluetooth in my helmet.

I tighten my hold around his waist, putting little effort to hold myself on the gas tank, “Yep!”

IM opens the small garage door, allowing us to zoom out and into the small parking lot outside of the shop. We are buzzed through the tall bar wire fence before we are able to make it to the street. It’s an amazing feeling to have the world rush pass me, the night lights just neon blurs in my peripheral. The ride isn’t that long, Wonho pulls in front of the luxurious looking club and parks his bike there. A valet comes up to us but my brother shoots him away.

“We are just going to be here for a minute,” He tells the other man, “Haneul is just checking in.”

The man nods and quickly escorts us to the door. Hyolyn is there picking at her nails, her eyes shift up to find us standing in the door way and widen almost comically. “The great Natasha lives!” With that she charges at me, nearly taking me to the ground, “I’ve missed that sweet face of yours!”

I smile as I accept her hug, ���I’ve missed you too.”

“Hey, hey, hey, get your grubby hands off her,” Wonho easily peels the girl off of me, ignoring her whines and kicks. “We are here to see the boss lady and that’s it.”

“Since when have you been such a mama bear? What happened to your companies ‘you are on your own’ motto?’

I raise my brows at her, “You are a year and a half behind, don’t be stupid.”

Her pout falters as a guilty look settles over her features, “Sorry. Come on, I’ll bring you to her.”

“You good to walk all the way back there?” Wonho questions as we begin the long track into the club.

I nod, “We are going into the lions den, gotta keep a brave face.”

Things are in full throttle with girls all over the place, men young and old alike chasing after them. My brother is hot on my heels the moment he catches sight of a man eyeing me up even in my condition. I let him puff his chest and glare the man down. We reach the door to the back and my whole body is asking me to stop. I’m so tired but I’m this far, I can make it down the hall without collapsing, at least I think I can. Many of the girls wandering through the halls greet me with beautiful smiles, a few offer hugs, some attempt to chat but my brother makes them move along as politely as he can, which isn’t polite at all but I let it slide. My legs are going to give out any moment and I would prefer not to cause a scene.

When we arrive at Haneul’s office Hyolyn knocks once before letting herself in. The moment we step inside Wonho scoops me up to dump me in one of the comfortable chairs in front of Haneul’s desk.

“Can you get her some water?” He all but demands from Hyolyn.

“Please don’t raise your voice at my girls,” A voice warns from behind a room divider near the back corner of the room. Wonho tenses as he crouches down close to me, now using me as a shield to hide from the fierce woman. The tanned goddess comes out with a tray in her hands and a smile on her beautiful face. She clicks over to me in her heels, her black wavy locks bounce with every step against her back. In leather pants and a fire engine red silk blouse, she looks like the boss she is. Her warm brown eyes find my own, her smile becomes more genuine as she sets the tray on her desk and comes to greet me, “How is my favorite little bird doing?”

I chuckle at the old nickname, “I’ve been better but I’ve also been worse.”

“Have your brothers been taking good care of you since your dad has been out? I talked to him earlier today on the phone, he’s upset he couldn’t join us today.”

“Yea, when he got your call last week about that meeting in the states he didn’t think he would be gone this long but those guys there are spoiling him rotten with information. He said he should have your moneys worth when he get home later this week.”

She beams at me, “I can’t wait. Now enough about him, how is your physical therapy going? Do you need anything that I can get you?”

“She’s fine,” Wonho mumbles next to me, earning himself a deadly glare.

“I’m fine, really,” I answer before he can earn her true wrath. “The boy have been great, the doctor visits have been great, therapy has been great. Thank you again for paying for the bills, you did not have to do that. We have more than enough to cover them.”

“So do I. Spending money on my friend is worth every penny. I am just happy you are still kicking, I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to my little bird.” She strokes my head fondly, “I’m still so sorry about this whole thing but I really need a favor.”

I raise my brows at that, “A favor? I know I said I’m fine but I can’t even walk a city block without having to take a break, I can’t go on a job just yet.”

“Wonho, could you step out with Hyolyn for a moment while we chat?”

“No thanks,” He quickly responds.

“I’ll be fine,” I pat his arm reassuringly, “Plus I’m pretty sure I saw Seungcheol oppa out there working. Go harass him for a while.”

It takes a few tugs from Hyolyn to get my brother out of the room, “I’ll be right out here if you need me!” He shouts as she gets him out the door, closing it behind him.

“So what’s this favor?”

She smiles softly, “How about some tea first?” The Latin woman pulls away to return to her desk, she pours me a cup of tea and adds a little sugar and honey before handing it off to me. Leaning against the desk she stares down at me, “I have these friends who lost the person they care about almost a year ago. I am partly the reason she left, so my dear friend is extremely upset with me.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, I was wondering if you would do me the biggest favor and spend a little time with him and one of his brothers.”

“Why me?” I question.

“Drink some of your tea before it gets cold,” she tells me first. She waits until I take a few sips, “You look a lot like the girl. It might help them get some rest if they spend some time with you.”

I hold the cup out to her, “No thank you. Can you please get Wonho oppa? I’m ready to go.”

“Drink, please, I’m not done talking.” She gently shoved it back at me.

I begrudgingly take a big drink in hopes of finishing it and leaving, “I won’t do it. I love you Unni and I appreciate everything you do for me but I can’t do that. Ask me for anything else and you’ve got it.”

“This is the only thing I need. I swear it won’t be anything sexual. Just let them hug you and maybe sleep next to you for a bit. I know you don’t want to, I know the bad memories are all coming back but it won’t be like that. You have my word. They just need a moment of peace, can you please do that for me?”

I want to leave. I want my brother to come and take me home so I don’t have to leave ever again. My hands are shaking, Hanuel silently urges me to drink the last of my tea before taking the clattering cup and saucer away. She set that aside, crouches down in front of me and rubs my knees in a attempt to calm the shakes that erupt through my body. Part of me feels as if I have to say yes, Hanuel got me to where I am now, I should be able to do this favor for her.

“I can’t.”

“It’s okay little bird,” she moves to hug me, resting my head in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you upset. Just breath okay? You should feel okay in a minute.”

My toes are tingling. Then my fingers are, panic attempts to set in but is pushed away by a sudden sense of calm. The shaking stops.

I choke out a cry as realization creeps in.

“You didn’t.” I hope and pray she didn’t do this to me but the familiar feeling of a sedative cocktail begins to buzz through my whole body. I choke out a cry as the world begins to go fuzzy. “No, no, no! I don’t want to go to sleep!”

She just shushes me, my body slowly going numb, “It okay, it’s okay, you’ll just take a good rest and then everything should be fine. You’ll do so good.”

“Please don’t make me,” my words begin slurring together.

Haneul ignores my pleas, kissing the top of my head and rocking me gently back and forth. She mumbles under her breath to me as everything fades away, “Everything will be okay little bird.”

[wafflesetc]

I’ll be there for you II- Chapter 3 (previous chapters)

Big thanks to @missclairebelle and @happytoobservenolongerdistant for the tag team Katie/Katy beta’ing for me! I couldn’t have done it without you both. And to @thatsoccercoach and @walkinginland who have been ever encouraging with this story! I hope this chapter has been worth the wait.

The One with the Genetic Testing

I was quiet as I entered the apartment.

My feet were sore, my eyelids were so heavy I thought I was going to fall asleep standing upright, and by some audacious miracle I had a major headache to top it all off.

I was a literal, walking, hot mess. The night shift rotations were going to be the death of me.

“Ye’re home a little earlier than I thought ye’d be.” Jamie’s voice was soft and welcoming as I sank into the couch opposite from where he sat.

“It was a light night. A few admits, a few stitches, one trauma…” I answered bringing my feet up underneath me.

“C’mere.” He said in that one tone of his Highland lilt that was reserved just for me.

Jamie reached across the couch and brought my feet onto his lap. I saw the tips of his ears flash red and a devilish grin spread across his face.

“If you are about to rub my feet,” I nearly groaned in eager anticipation, “Then I am going to love you more than I did before I left for work last night.”

He snorted at that and moved to the balls of my feet. “Ye say that every time I massage yer feet.”

I laughed as I undid the bun on top of my head, letting my three day unwashed hair down.

“You try growing a human and being on your feet all night. It is bloody hard work!”

He let out a Scottish grunt of amusement and continued to rub the tender soles of my feet.

Lost in the healing powers of his touch, all the fears and worries about becoming a mother started to fade away. For a split second, I could see it- us in a house, the Highland hills rolling in the background with a Flash of the Fraser red hair from a small child. I could see a future I had almost never thought I’d have.

After a few silent moments with nothing said between us, I opened my eyes and saw a pensive look on Jamie’s face as he studied me.

Finally he spoke with nothing but utter confidence, “Ye’ll be great, Claire.”

He seldom used my name and whenever Jamie did call me- Claire- it was always something he meant to the marrow of his bones.

Feeling suddenly and overwhelmingly that some of my deepest insecurities had been exposed, I tucked my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

He started at me for a moment and traced the outline of my face, “Mo Chridhe.”

“Wot?” My voice was clipped, properly British.

Before we were together I knew Jamie was a man who was very in tune with his emotions, as well as those people he was close to.

Jamie Fraser knew me- knew what made me tick, how I thought, how I processed emotions, and why I made the decisions that I did.

I had been, somewhat, aware of just how in tune he was, but it wasn’t until we were romantically involved where I became accustomed to the fact he was hyper aware of just how well he knew me.

He knew me, my mind, and more so, he knew my soul. There were things in this world where my rational and scientific mind couldn’t process or find the words, yet he was there, and he could always find a way to say what was in his heart.

I’d be inclined to say Jamie Fraser knew me better than I knew myself.

He saw right through me. He saw right through the veneer of confidence I had been trying to keep afloat since I found out we were having a child. His unwavering support and faith in me made me feel cherished and safe…. Like we could do this.

“How did you know?” I put a small smile on in my best effort to hide my fear.

If I were to be honest with myself, I had never truly envisioned myself being a mother. My own parents had died when I was merely in grade school. I had been shipped off to live with my mother’s brother- Uncle Lamb. He traveled the world as an archaeologist, and when a child had been bestowed upon him, he had decided to bring me along. Uncle Lamb homeschooled me through all our adventures. We spent summers in Egypt, took hikes through Greece’s ancient ruins, went backpacking through remote parts of Central America, and spent weekends in Paris while he was at a conferences.

It was because of Uncle Lamb I had seen the ends of the world and all it had to offered. I had seen the wealthy, the poor, the healthy, and the sick. I had learned at a young age that I had been given a gift- a gift of healing- and had set my determined, stubborn mind, to put my gift to use.

Uncle Lamb was all I had really ever had in the world, and just as my parents had left me, so did he- passing away when I was eighteen. To honor his memory and the experiences he had given me, I had set out to go to medical school, score the best residency, and become a world-renowned physician. It would be me and my medicine- me and myself. The mere idea of motherhood scared the living daylights out of me. I wasn’t going to be a mother- that just was not in the cards for Claire Beauchamp.

That had been my plan, until Jamie Fraser moved in.

Jamie had changed and challenged everything I thought I had wanted for myself. He was the hope for the things I had given up on, he was the second chance I never knew I wanted.

When I looked into his ocean-blue eyes, I saw a future rooted in a firm foundation. A permanence in a life that I felt like I didn’t deserve, but by the grace of some deity above, I had been granted.

“The line of yer brows, Sassenach. When ye get worried, it creases.”

I rolled my eyes and stuck my legs back out onto his lap. “No fair. I have tells and you don’t. My damn glass face.”

“It’s one of the verra many things I adore about ye, Sassenach… But,” He took a breath and I felt his hands work their way to massaging my feet again, “Ye must ken it, right? Ye’ll be a good mam… What ye don’t ken, ye’ll learn… And we’ll learn it together, aye?”

“Aye.” I took my right foot and prodded him in the stomach.

“I am being honest, I give ye my word. Ye remind me of Jenny when she first had her bairn. She was worried about it all- having the bairn, raising it, the whole lot. But she’s a verra fine mother, Claire.” Jamie took my leg and raised it to his face, kissing the back of my calf. “There’s nay soul I’d want to be the mother of my children, other than you.”

I held my breath for a moment, hanging onto his words.

“Children?” I stammered, “As in plural?”

“Yes,” He laughed. His hands moving their way up my legs in a circular motion. “I’d love to field a whole rugby team. A dozen or so.”

“Twelve children, then?” If he had said this to me two years ago, I would have run for the hills, scared out of my mind, but now….I was more than willing to try and field a Fraser Rugby Team if he asked me to.

“If ye’re willing….”

“As long as you’re by my side.”  

We finished our sentences at the same time. I swung my legs back under me and twisted myself so my head rested on his chest.

“I do love you, you know.”

“I ken..” He kissed my temple. “I also ken there is something else bothering ye.”

“Yes…” My voice was quiet and I felt mildly embarrassed. “You know your family. Your mom, your dad, grandparents, sister…..”

“Yes.” His voice encouraged me to go on.

“And you know what your gene pool is like, for the most part. My parents died young, Uncle Lamb only told me so much before he died, and I am basically the last line of the Beauchamps as far as I know.”

“And?”

“It got me thinking….I was hoping you would be okay with the option of getting some genetic testing done on the baby? It’s minimally invasive. Of course there are risks, as there are with any medical procedure, but it is done all the time these days”

I felt his body stiffen in response.

“It’s not that I think anything is wrong, I don’t, but rationally, scientifically…. But I want to know. I just want to make sure our child is healthy. I know you might not be inclined to do it, religious reasons and just pure faith in our baby being okay… But I’d like to know, and I wanted to ask you. I want you to be there.”

I heard him swallow and let out his breath. A moment passed and then another. “Ye ken, Sassenach… I dinna think it necessary, our bairn will be healthy.”

I could hear the lingering but in his tone.

“Yet, I also ken ye will fret over this for months if ye dinna do it and I understand why ye want to do it. Tell me when and where…. Wherever ye need me, I’ll show up.”

It was in that moment I loved him wildly, maddly, and deeper than ever before. There was no man who would ever compare to Jamie Fraser in my world.

“I will,” I kissed the base of his jaw, “Right now just hold me… Everything else can wait.”

[blue-honeycomb]

Escape Artist: Chapter 1 [Aizawa x Reader]

Decided to play around with this for a bit before going back to my other stuff.

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1

---

The Escape Artist stared at the television screen with incomprehension, blinking once, twice, until a small hand smacked her dead center in the face. The force was enough to shake her from her thoughts and she cast a sidewards glare at the little brat sitting casually beside her.

Big, off-white eyes stared unflinchingly into her own, equally white, featureless face twisting into some form of expression that was lost on her. Luckily, the little hellion's hair was prone to flashing colors with their emotions, so she at least has some idea as to what they wanted. Even if that idea was vague at best.

"How was I supposed to know there was a whole pack of heros right there?" She huffed, casting her eyes back to the news special broadcasting her latest anti-kidnapping kidnapping with concerningly clear footage. Like, crystal clear HD, not some fuzzy security camera but media quality definition; the kind that got you recognized.

On the screen was a video of her popping into existence in a police station not even 3 yards from where a group of heros and police officers were finishing up an interview, setting the child she'd brought in a chair as he chewed on the mochi she'd thought to bring with her for just such a purpose. As though in slow motion, she could see her screen self whip around and suddenly freeze, staring directly at the heros, and consequencely the cameras, before disappearing once more. Honestly, it was pretty comical, and apparently, a good portion of the in studio reporters seemed to think so too.

"That," She pointed at the screen for emphasis while leveling the yellow flashing, blank-faced little shit a glare. "Was not intentional, no matter what you little misfits seem to think." From the shadow of the color flashing cretin popped another one, this one gray haired and black eyed, grinning widely at her with his wickedly sharp teeth.

"Don't make up shit just cuz you can't understand me. Don't think I'm not on to you, shark boy." Not that any of her brats ever listened to a thing she said anyway. The only one who ever seemed to try was Spitter, but that was because the boy couldn't say no to anyone ever, so it was never satisfying. Hard to feel victorious about getting your way when it took years of abuse to make the person (a little fucking boy) willing to heel on command. Thinking about how'd she'd found the little guy made her stomach turn.

Moving on before she breaks something.

Shark brat said something about hero costumes to Whiteout Brat and a lot of gesturing took place, as well as a good bit of yelling. Thankfully they lived far enough underground to avoid being hear by any passerbys. Escape Artist turned away while they were distracted and let them entertain themselves while she thought about what she'd just seen.

It was the first time the public had seen conclusive evidence of her existence outside of a few shitty grocery store video feeds, and the entirety of Japan seemed to be eating it up. Words like vigilante and uncatchable were being tossed around, as well as theories about teleportation quirks and being a greiving mother seeking vengeance. All these things would have made her snort in amusement had it been even a few months ago. But now? Now she couldn't afford to get caught or have a hoard of glory-hounds on her trail. Too many mouths to feed, for one, and secondly, too many little bodies following her when she wasn't looking. Anything could happen with the added variable of nosy superpower enhanced dogooders.

The problem with working with homeless, traumatized children is that after you've taken care of them for a while they come to expect you to actually take care of them. As in, not just feeding them occasionally and giving them a place to crash, but actually filling that parent shaped whole in their lives and taking over all the responsibilities that comes with it. Like protection, love and trust. And time. Especially time. So much more than she has to spare.

So they've taken to following her when she's not watching closely enough, and that terrifies her because she can give them love and trust in abundance, but protection is something she just can't provide. She simply isn't strong enough to take them with her everywhere she goes, let alone into a situation that may one day be her last.

Speaking of situations.

It was time to go out and get more food. While nothing went bad in her inventory, thank God, it never actually stayed full with how many mouths needed feeding everyday. Shark boy alone could put away half his body weight in a single sitting if given the chance, and even that's got nothing on Bull or Hot Shot. Honestly, and though Escape Artist would never say it aloud, Bull's vigorous appetite may have been the reason she was abandoned in the first place. She just had to eat so much to function that even with the triweekly raids Escape Artist could barely keep up with the ever growing demand.

And then there's Hot Shot. Nicely put, he was a rather enthusiastic young boy in possession of a very destructive, fuel-exhaustive quirk neither she nor he had any idea how to train. It wasn't until he'd joined her merry little band that she'd learned the location of every clothing store in the city. Every single one of them.

Her life sometimes, she swears.

There was a shattering sound in the designated kitchen area, followed by a high pitched screech that fell somewhere between a frog croak and a chirp. Not even a second later the sound of footsteps darting through the tunnels at frankly ridiculous speeds creeked overhead, followed closely by the wall rattling thud of Bull chasing right after.

Escape Artist sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling slightly. Beside her, Shark boy leapt to his feet in a dead run to go watch the drama unfold with unholy glee, Whiteout following at a slightly more moderate pace. Not even 8 in the morning and already the chaos had begun.

Her head thud quietly against the back of the couch. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

---

Escape Artist was more than a bit concerned by what had happened on her way back home, but she supposed it could have been worse. For one thing, she wasn't dead, and for another, neither was the man she'd smacked headfirst into (or more accurately, he'd smacked face first into her). Unfortunately for the man though, the impact had left him notably unconscious and maybe a little bruised around the nose and forehead. In short, she done fucked up and this time it didn't involve another mouth to feed… she hoped. She didn't know if she had the patience needed to take care of a full grown man on top of the 8 kids at home and the 2 feral cretins that visited occasionally.

It'd been a simple case of bad luck all around, honestly. She'd just finished robbing the local Walmart (yes, it still exists and she still doesn't know how to feel about that months on) and was coming out of ID when she's suddenly been thrown to the ground by a speeding black mass all but flying through the darkened alley. Her first thought upon getting over her shock was to thank whatever was watching over her that night it wasn't a car. Her second was to fret over whoever she'd just gotten killed.

Luckily, it hadn't been a car and the stranger had survived the encounter. So, all was good in her books, besides the obvious part where the guy was laying unconscious in an alley and sporting an obvious hero getup in the shadier part of this district. If that wasn't asking for a knife in the back than she didn't know what was.

So now here she was, sitting across from the unmoving lump of man, chin in hand and elbows firmly planted on her thighs. She'd covered him up with a blanket from her inventory some time ago to keep him at least somewhat warm as the night gradually grew colder around them. She didn't think she'd manage to get the thing back before the guy was up and trying to kick her ass, but Hot Shot needed to learn to control his flames anyway and maybe going coverless for a while was just the motivation he needed to do so. She pointedly didn't think about the extra comforters she'd grabbed because she knew the first wouldn't last three nights in the little shit's care.

She blinked slowly, eyes roaming over what little bit of the man she could make out from under the blanket. Long, dark hair curling over the blanket and his heavily stubbled face (she'd picked the wild mass up off the filthy ground because ew), long lashes and a narrow, masculine face. He was attractive for sure, though the dark lines around his eyes, nose and forehead made him seem almost sickly pale in the unflattering street light. What she noticed most though was the peeks of sleek, firm muscle that the fluffy covers, ridiculously huge scarf and baggy clothing couldn't hide.

She was a woman with damn human needs. It'd been at least 3 years since she's gotten any and she was long overdue. She felt strongly that she should be able to appreciate this man's undeniable beauty so long as she kept her hands to herself and didn't do anything creepy like take pictures or some shit. She blatantly ignored the little voice whispering about how equally creepy it was to watch someone sleep without their consent.

It was also creepy how the observe function of her quirk let her learn a few tidbits about the man without any conscious effort, but for the most part she ignored the notifications hovering around the man all together. It wasn't like she'd ever meet the guy again after this, unless he was trying to arrest her of course. Either way, she doubted learning this guy's name or whatever was really worth invading his privacy anymore than her mere existence did. She'd like to think she has some standards.

In her uncharacteristic moment of distraction she failed to notice the subtle shift of the man's head before he went eeriely still. It wasn't until she was shifting to get more comfortable and noticed that a section of his hair was misplaced that she realized her mistake.

It happened too fast for her to properly react. With a quiet that belied the strength behind the attack, the man launched himself into her personal space and had her wrapped head to toe in the weird scarf he had with him. On instinct she tried to open her ID, but with a cold chill of realization discovered she couldn't get it to activate. In fact, her whole world seemed to suddenly swirl on its axis and for the first time since she'd come to this place her mind blanked with true, mortal terror.

His eyes glowed deep, sinister red against the shadows spread over his handsome face, dark hair whipping above his head like a dark, inhuman halo. Those muscles she'd been admiring just moments ago were suddenly the weapons of intimidation they were meant to be, something that made her heart race and quake with fear.

And her body. Maybe even worse than the sudden influx of terror was the sudden aknowledgement of her body's long forgotten functions. Where once she was satisfied she was now hollow, the movement of long unused organs felt like insects crawling though her body, scratching and nipping as they went.

Suddenly, the world was not just a thing that could be walked away from with a single though and a armful of goods. For the first time since she'd opened her eyes in that alleyway nearly a year ago, it was just her, the world and all the dangers that came with it staring her down with burning red eyes.

For the first time since she received her quirk she was well and truly alive.

"Escape Artist, was it."

[hermannsthumb]

Hey dude!! Never done this before so I’m sorry if I screw it up but love the prompts you reblogged and thought I’d give it a try. Newmann wedding fics are the cutest things in my opinion so I thought possibly write a combination of 16, 7, and or either 2 or 9. Your newmann fics are the absolute best, I read them whenever I’m having a really bad day and they always cheer me up. Your a fantastic writer and you have such and amazing personality! I Hope you have a lovely day

16: Weddings, 7: Beach, 1: Fireworks, 2: Sunburn AND 9: Stargazing, 

from summer prompt memes here

combining yours with @francissaintgermain​ for a double whammy of wedding...AND THANK U BOTH for the really sweet words :’)

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

“Seems a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” Hermann says. “All this bloody planning, and money, and effort—”

“It’s not a hassle,” Newton says. “I mean, it is, but—it’s gotta be worth it, you know? It’s romantic.”

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to not roll his eyes. Newton’s idea of romantic includes necking on the couch while Ghostly Encounters plays on the television set and showing Hermann how many pieces of sushi he can cram into his mouth at once. (His record is ten, and he would’ve kept going if Hermann didn’t remind him that they were in a very nice restaurant and he paid quite a lot for the reservation.) It isn’t what Hermann meant, anyway. “I’m not talking about weddings in general,” he says. “I mean this sort. With all the—” He waggled his hand vaguely. “Extravagance.”

Extravagance did not fully encompass everything this wedding was. Hermann’s cousin and his fiance—wife, now, Hermann supposed—-had rented out a massive chunk of beach for it, with all the trappings of the sorts of things you’d expect for a beach vacation. Bouquets of tropical flowers. Bridesmaids in flip-flops. Seagulls swooping down every few minutes. Tiki torches at the end of each aisle of chairs, one of which had nearly caught the sleeve of Newton’s gaudy Hawaiian shirt (“I have to dress for the theme, babe,” he insisted) on fire when he passed it. It would’ve been nice if they hadn’t set the damned thing at midday, with the sun broiling overhead and making everyone squint and almost certainly burning Hermann alive, despite the long-sleeved linen shirt and sunhat he donned, and the fine layer of sunscreen Newton took a bit too much sensual pleasure in applying to him back in the hotel room. None of the other Gottliebs (genetically predisposed to pastiness) appear to be faring much better: Hermann spies his aunt a few rows up, who’s beginning to resemble a surly, dark-haired tomato.

Still. Hermann’s the only one of his immediate family to be invited, and his cousin paid for their airfare and hotel room, which is in some outrageously expensive resort with a spa and mimosas at the complimentary breakfasts that Hermann thinks Newton would call bougie, and they’ve got it for a week at that, so Hermann can’t bring himself to complain too much. It’s not as if he’s had the chance to go on many vacations in the last decade. The break is well-deserved and nice.

Newton leans in close with a grin and a nod to the front of the aisle, where the bride and groom have taken each other’s hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Gottlieb that happy in my life.”

“Nonsense,” Hermann says, and then realizes Newton does make a fair point: it’s not just Hermann’s aunt on the groom’s side of the aisle who’s surly. (Genetic predisposition to pastiness and melancholy, he supposes.) He goes for a different approach. “I’m certain I looked that happy on our wedding day.”

“You were kinda just crying the whole time, dude,” Newton says.

Hermann flushes. He had cried a little bit. “It was—er—overjoyed crying.”

“It was cute,” Newton says, grin softening out into something a bit dopier. He slings his arm around Hermann’s shoulders, and Hermann can’t help but lean in to his touch and smile back.

They both startle a moment later when the crowd suddenly begins clapping; the couple have finished reciting their vows, it appears. “Thank fuck,” Newton whispers. “I’m starving. I hope they have those tiny cream puff things at the reception.”

They don’t, but they have plenty of seafood (apt for the theme). Newton settles on filling a plate with a comical amount of jumbo-sized shrimp and some crab legs. The reception is likewise on the beach, under a great big tent lit up with lanterns and more torches only a short walk down from where the ceremony took place, and Hermann has to admit he’s beginning to see the appeal of the extravagance of it all. The oppressive heat’s dissipating, finally. The sea breeze’s picked up enough to ruffle the ends of Hermann’s hair and even make him shiver (and lean in a touch closer to Newton). The sunset’s gorgeous on the horizon. Even the live band is pleasant, and Hermann recognizes one song as something Newton’s played for him on the guitar before.

After dodging a fair number of his relatives, most of whom give Newton (with his tattoos and ear piercings and tiny Godzillas patterned on his shirt) side-eyes even before he lunges in and catches the bride’s bouquet, only to guiltily throw it back when he realizes it’s for the unwed partygoers, Hermann and Newton find their assigned table at the edge of the dance floor and sit down to watch the fireworks show overhead. Because of course the wedding party sprung for fireworks. “God, I fucking love this,” Newton says, beaming like an overeager child. “We should’ve had fireworks at ours.”

“Ours was indoors,” Hermann reminds him.

“I didn’t mean inside the building,” Newton says.

He downs a third of the frozen daiquiri he got from the bar and offers the rest out to Hermann, who shakes his head. “Do you wanna dance?” Newton says. His lips look sticky, vaguely red, and terribly inviting, so Hermann steals a quick kiss before he bothers responding.

“In a bit, perhaps,” he says. His hand drifts up to cup the side of Newton’s face. His cheeks are rougher than usual: he forgot to pack his razor, and they haven’t had the time to find anywhere that sells disposable ones yet. Hermann doesn’t mind it, though it’d tickled like mad in bed last night when Newton tried to kiss his throat. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Newton nods and unhooks Hermann’s cane from the back of his chair, then, almost as an afterthought, crams several of the shrimp from his plate into the top pocket of his shirt. Hermann makes a face. “No use in wasting them,” Newton says. He holds the cane out to Hermann.

They walk, arm-in-arm, far enough down the beach that the tent becomes a dim glow and the music barely audible before they ease themselves down on the sand and spread out. Above them, stars are beginning to appear. The night sky is far clearer and far more devoid of light pollution out here than anywhere else Hermann has been before; Newton, excitedly, points out three shooting stars before Hermann’s even made himself comfortable. (Another pleasant benefit of this all.)

Newton’s shirt is unbuttoned enough to give Hermann a glimpse of the kaiju piece that spans across his chest. Hermann used to hate it. Hermann used to hate a lot of things about Newton. “I ran into your uncle at the buffet table,” Newton says. “Mustache. Looks just like your dad. He didn’t believe me when I said I was your husband. What constellation is that?”

“Hercules,” Hermann says automatically. “Do you regret it?”

Newton turns to frown at him. “Do I regret what?”

“Our wedding,” Hermann says. “It wasn’t very—flash.”

It’d been quick. In and out. Courthouse affair barely even two months after they closed the Breach. Newton wore a bow tie borrowed from Tendo, Hermann slacks with a coffee stain on the left leg. They didn’t even have a honeymoon. It seemed romantic at the time, almost as if they were eloping—they loved each other, after all, they had in silence for a decade, they saved the world together, they drifted together. They’d been in each other’s heads. It seemed foolish to wait.

“Oh.” Newton laughs. “Of course I don’t regret it.”

“You wouldn’t have preferred all this?”

“Dude,” Newton says. “We have, like, two friends, and you hate half your family. Who would we have invited?”

“Fair point,” Hermann says, satisfied.

“Besides.” Newton rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over Hermann’s waist, and he rubs his scratchy cheek against the crook of Hermann’s neck. “You gotta know I would’ve literally married you anywhere.”

“Ah, Newton,” Hermann stammers, “stop—”

“Nope,” Newton says, mistaking Hermann’s reticence for bashfulness over the public display of affection, and nuzzles and kisses at him this time. “No way. Anywhere.”

“‘S not that,” Hermann says, and winces in pain, because Newton’s stubble is suddenly feeling a hell of a lot sharper, “Newton, it’s—sunburn—”

Newton rolls off of him, giggling madly. “How?” he says. “I put a whole fucking bottle of sunblock on you. You were wearing that stupid hat.” He prods at the sunhat, resting on the sand a few inches away with Hermann’s cane.

Hermann ghosts his fingers over the skin of his neck gingerly; it’s hot and tender to the touch, as is the skin of his shoulders and upper arms through his clothing. Bloody figures. If it’s this bad already, mere hours after the ceremony, he doesn’t even want to know what it’ll be like tomorrow. “I certainly don’t know how,” he says.

The kiss Newton leaves on his reddened skin is far more delicate this time, without a hint of his stubble. “Poor baby,” he says, with a mocking pout. It turns suggestive in seconds, aided by the hand that he slips up under the hem of Hermann’s linen shirt and massages circles with over his abdomen. “I’ll just have to rub aloe all over you when we get home tonight, yeah?”

“Mm,” Hermann agrees, eyelids drifting shut. It’s nice, more than nice, and, for a moment (there’s no one around to see, after all), Hermann is considering indulging Newton in some light touching and kissing in return. Then he wrinkles his nose. “You smell like shrimp, darling,” he says. It’s killed any lust that Newton may have been inspiring in him. Newton retracts his hand.

“There’s still one in my pocket,” he admits.

[wonderlustlucas]

joie de vivre - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt “What an odd individual. What an odd joy.” ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 10.7k ⇢ genre fluff & comedy ⇢ warnings swearing & a gross amount of fluff ⇢ summary (i couldn’t come up w a summary but camille did so here u go heheh) In this sweet and relatable story of hopeful romance and inner girl power, you find yourself meeting and getting to know the effervescent boys of GOT7. With exotic food orders and the unmistakable heart-fluttering that defines young love, Joie de Vivre delivers a humorous and cleverly fun take on the awesomeness of your favorite K-pop stars.—beach!au ⇢ a/n wow i can’t believe i’m finally posting this. since july i have deserted & gone back to this damn chapter so many times & i’m just so happy i can finally post it. nevertheless, considering it’s almost christmas & i have zero summer vibes left, this is probably going to be on hold for a looong time since i have so many autumn & winter inspired works i wanna write, so i apologize for the tease. i’d also like to give a big shoutout to my friend camille who edited this for me (along with helping me in various other ways) since i didn’t have time:) & last but not least, i wanted to have this up for yugyeom’s birthday but couldn’t make time, so happy belated birthday to my love, i hope your year is full of all the happiness in the world❥

i ii iii iv v vi vii

moodboard

Contrary to all the whining and complaining that ensues at the start of each grueling summer year, it truly is the beginning of the most thrilling months.

A time when, despite the startlingly tremendous surge of obnoxious, vape-induced teenagers hoarding the boardwalk like flies drawn to an outdoor barbeque, and the influx of ignorant young children flopping through the ocean waves like they are training to become fish, there is always a milieu of genuine elation hanging in the air.

This constant joy—whether it is emanating from the relaxation that oozes from unwinding vacationers flooding the beach and boardwalk, continuous hours wasted away doing nothing and days melting into one another, or simply the enkindling of town—makes up for all the downsides that arise with the start of summer.

Over years of enduring this unnamed cycle of life, you have come to appreciate that there are four types of joy; the expected, the unexpected, the habitual, and the unknown.

The expected—a joy with which you are familiar and the elation it will give you.

The unexpected—aware of the plan, but not expecting the joy that will result from it.

The habitual—occurring so frequently that, while still appealing, is more of a routine rather than a new and exciting experience.

And the unknown—any choice resulting in a different ending, a different joy.

However, despite recognizing these, the unknown sort of joy is the most enigmatic because, named for this specific reason, you never know when it is happening or when it will be.

Even so, one such occurrence is most certainly not a habitual joy. Rather, a royal pain in your ass: when Kim Jinae, in an effort that you could never grasp entirely, decides to wake not only herself but also the two of you up at a time that you should most definitely still be dead asleep nearly every day during your months off.

“You know,” you huff, deeply inhaling the morning ocean hair to fill your lungs. Your body is sagging in sheer exhaustion as you follow her peppy steps—how is she still so fired up?—a few feet behind, sneakers skidding lazily against the worn wood of the boardwalk. "I really miss when your shift was in the morning, and we worked out at night. I hope you know I hate you for guilt-tripping me into this."

Jinae scoffs, coming to a stop and whipping around. “I’m sorry, but who wants to spend the whole damn day down at the beach? And who guilt-tripped who into switching shifts?”

You huff heavily, accepting defeat because she's right, but you would never tell her. You look away to peek at the waves approaching the shore nearly a football field away that reflect apricots and azaleas on the horizon from the remaining sunrise. Your irritated thoughts are replaced with the wonder of today’s plan. “Speaking of, what are we doing today?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. You make a mental note to never ask her anything again because—Lord knows—Jinae is zero help. “I assumed we were just doing the usual.”

You sigh, following her silently down the wooden steps from the boardwalk, the ocean now faintly hushed behind you. You wipe away a bead of sweat dripping down from your hairline. “Can you make breakfast before I have to leave?”

Jinae mutters something under her breath, then twists around to face you. “You’re a real brat, you know?”

You beam. “Learned it from the best.”

Your first joy, practically your best friend since you could walk, quite possibly your soulmate—Kim Jinae.

While some days do in fact seem to drag on endlessly, working only four hours a day and four days a week during the summer months is a bargain worth paying for and an opportunity sent by the heavens. It pays what your parents don’t, you tell yourself when service is slow and customers bark at you as if you’re the one doing the cooking. A little extra in the cookie jar, you whisper under your breath after covering eight tables at once, shifting uncomfortably in your uniform as perspiration dribbles down your spine while darting from the sweltering kitchen to each consecutive table.

However, most days seemingly fly by. After all, eight to twelve are prime breakfast hours, and so the quaint diner is not half as cruel as some prior jobs. Not to mention, it is right on the boardwalk, which makes meeting up with Jinae for the rest of the day well spent at the beach even simpler.

Upon setting down the check for your last table and offering a polite farewell, you scan the room curiously until, after a few seconds of concern, your gaze lands on a certain busboy setting down silverware on a recently cleaned booth. "Hey Markipooh," you coo, greeting the unacceptably gorgeous brunette and sliding across the tiled marble floor to stand beside him and to help finish laying out paper placemats.

Mark Tuan—the Devil in Disguise. During your first few days at the new job, you were quietly aware of the only other employee that took advantage of the locker room, initially an exceptionally attractive blonde who had not even graced you with a glance since you started.

That was, until hardly a week later, you found yourself packing up for the day when he entered to do the same.

“Woah, you’re a brunette now.” It slipped out before your brain could truly even process the sentence, gears positively malfunctioning in your head because God, he’s hot but God, you’re an idiot. He blinked, running a hand through his darkened locks and eyeing you curiously for an agonizingly long heartbeat before he straightforwardly said, “It’s pink, actually.”

Oh, so he’s sarcastic. “Hilarious,” you retorted, watching curiously as he made way for his own locker. “I’m glad to see that you do in fact talk, though.”

He laughed lightly, a percussion that made your heart soar. He disregarded a chiming notification from his phone to stare intensely back at your inquiring gaze, saying, “Is that what keeps you up at night? Whether or not your incredibly hot co-worker is mute?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, you're not that special.”

And so, it came to be that the busboy was not who he seemed to be. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together seamlessly, you clicked with Mark so quickly that even Jinae seemed to impatiently grow jealous. Tirelessly cunning, Mark is a perfect force against your own quick-wittedness. However, he is a precious munchkin of a boy when he wants to be. The fact that he has not only been to but has lived in so many places in the span of twenty-four years, plus his expansive knowledge of more languages than you could ever possibly grasp, has heartily drawn you in until, you have realized your second joy—Mark Tuan.

And here you are, hardly two months later.

Instead of replying verbally, Mark only glares at you coldly before, finally, "You're going to use that against me for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

You grin mischievously at the mathematics major—well, the mathematics major working on his Master’s, as he likes to remind you at every chance that presents itself—and follow him once he makes way to the otherwise empty locker room.

“Probably,” you chuckle while slipping the suffocatingly hot sneakers off your feet. You check the door behind you once more before peeling your top and bra off and replacing them with the navy-blue bathing suit top shoved haphazardly into your locker. You add, “It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed.”

“It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed,” Mark mimics under his breath, voice uncharacteristically high to impersonate your own, as you slip a plain tee-shirt from high school over your head. “I had to become friends with the spawn of Satan, of all people.”

You laugh, shimmying out of your pants and underwear and swiftly pulling up the matching bathing suit bottoms. “You know I love you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mark grumbles from somewhere behind you. You are too preoccupied with trying to fold your clothes as nicely as possible into your bag. He continues, “Don’t pull that shit on me. Just ‘cos you’re a senior now doesn’t mean I’m gonna deal with your crap.”

“Just because you’re a senior now,” you mimic as he had, only he interrupts your shenanigans with a hard punch to your arm as the two of you head outside. “Anyway,” he sighs, ignoring your scowl and pausing to inhale the briny aroma that never seems to leave the thick ocean air, “I don’t know what your plans are, but some of my friends are working at a joint that opened recently, and I was hoping you’d come?”

“Is this just another sneaky plan to hang out with Jinae?” You chuckle, digging into his side with your elbow. He gasps, “Hey! Maybe I’m just being a nice friend.”

“Oh, yeah, a friend,” you snort. At the genuine pout that clouds his expression, however, you stop and hook your arm through his. “Don’t worry, I promised I would be your wingwoman, didn’t I?”

Mark sighs, shrugging. Then he says, “Why couldn’t I have fallen for you instead?”

With a noise of amusement and disbelief that sounds like something between a snicker and a choke, you rest your head against his bicep momentarily before glancing up at him. “You’re too hot for me.”

“Sure, and pigs fly. I’m actually kind of worried that my friends are going to pounce on you.”

You scoff. “Yeah, okay. Speaking of, who are these friends of yours?”

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, visibly brightening, his white teeth dazzling as he smiles. “So there’s six of ‘em. We all ended up meeting each other at the studio for the first dance class.”

“Pause,” you interject, surprised. “They all go to the same school as us?”

He nods eagerly. “They’re all getting their Master’s, too. Youngjae just graduated with Jinae, and I think BamBam is in your class. Yugyeom is a grade below, I believe.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “BamBam? Like, the—”

“The really cute, bubbly loudmouth?”

“Yeah! You’re friends with BamBam?” You gape. What a small world, you think. When you glance up you happen to notice Jinae waving like a madwoman several feet ahead. You wave back, however, Mark’s snort interrupts you. “What?” He says. “Am I not cool enough to be friends with him?”

You giggle. Though it is tempting to agree, you do not feel like delving into a full roasting session. You instead opt for, “No, shut up and stop being insecure. I was just surprised. I never spoke with him, but we had calculus together.”

Mark only hums in agreement. You assume that by reaching Jinae he has suddenly clammed up. You clear your throat. “Jinae! Mark has plans for us!”

Whether Mark notices it or not, you certainly catch the way Jinae’s face brightens, her enchanting brown eyes scrunching in delight. They’re so into one another, you think, just as she gushes, “No way! Let’s go, then! Where at?”

Your gut truly twists as a result of the saccharine sweetness between the two, an indisputable and perpetual attracting force that all people but the pair can recognize. In an instant, you clear your throat after a disgustingly long amount of time passes of them just staring at each other before you end up with a cavity. “C’mon, then. I’m not going to wait all day.”

Mark jolts, turning to you as the apples of his cheeks bloom pink. He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah—Yeah, let’s go.”

You cannot help the satisfied smirk that comes with him rushing ahead and Jinae positively melting into a pile of mush. You snort, patting her flushed cheeks and following Mark’s speedy path ahead of Jinae’s delayed trailing.

Like most shops and grills lining the boardwalk, JJ’s—as you learned several minutes later once the two bounced back after whatever happened moments ago—is just the same.

With an entirely open entrance, aside from two small table-and-chair sets halfway on the boardwalk and halfway under the ceiling and walls painted butterscotch orange, the grill is squeezed between an unnecessarily expensive jewelry store and a bustling candy shop. The mouthwatering aroma of bulgogi and honey soy filling your senses is a grand contrast to the briny odor from outside. It’s so small you wonder if customers even order to stay, yet it is not cramped in any way—within a space of ten feet, give or take, there is shelving on each set of parallel walls, wide enough to dine at, with two metal chairs tucked in front, a black refrigerator stocked with cold drinks, the counter, which is checkered marble and decorated with a change jar and a vase of snapdragons, is to the right of a sliding barn door painted with doodles of the beach and a lighthouse.

Beyond the counter is a small kitchen with deep fryers to the left and three large aluminum dishes full of fried chicken resting on an island in the middle of the room. The archway that leads to an unknown area occupying the rest of the space is blocked by a plain maroon curtain; with one last scan of the quaint space and another deep inhale, you conclude that, even before tasting anything, this may be your new favorite place to eat.

Your captivated daze is cut short by the voice working behind the counter.

“Mark-hyung!” None other than BamBam calls from his perch on a stool, silver hair pushed up and over his forehead in a messy comma-shaped style. Mark scoffs, “Stop calling me hyung in front of my friends. It makes me feel old.”

“Is that Mark?” Shouts a disembodied voice as BamBam hops from his seat and slides open the drawn-on door. You glance to Jinae, whose baffled expression most certainly mirrors your own, just as said voice bolts over to greet your eldest friend.

“Mark!” Roars an unreasonably attractive brunette, shoving BamBam to the side so roughly that you lean back a bit just to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.

“Jesus, you guys are so fake. Stop putting on a show. My friends are normal,” huffs Mark, sending the loud newcomer a condescending glare. Just as you begin to think you have gone invisible, he twists to you with a beaming boyish grin that reaches his eyes. “Jackson, BamBam, this is ___,” he says, introducing you and resting his palm on the small of your back. “and Jinae,” he adds.

“Hello!” Shouts another figure who you had not spotted working behind the counter. Like BamBam and this Jackson, he too is classically handsome, and you practically feel your stomach twist into knots at the sudden intensity of it all, not one but four strikingly gorgeous young men—where have they been your whole life?—in one room that is most definitely tinier now, and you cannot breathe, and there’s still three more you have yet to meet?

“Hey.” BamBam’s chirpy voice—having not heard it since sophomore year, you reckon that it matches the sweetness of his facial features—interrupts your short-lived tizzy of emotions. “weren’t you in my calculus class?”

“Yeah, that would be me,” you nod, smiling in response to his own heartwarming grin. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

“Youngjae?” Jinae’s gasp cuts into BamBam’s potential answer. Evident surprise is laced in her tone as the aforementioned employee rounds the counter. Your gaze flicks back and forth from her and Mark to his three friends, not knowing where to focus. You decide on Jackson—Hell, he’s nice to look at—and find yourself thanking the heavens that fate has made it so Mark entered your life and has ultimately led you to a much too small grill, containing way too many blessed genes all at once.

“You look lost,” says the brunette god himself, catching on to your hazy staring and shuffling to stand beside you, “not that I blame you.” You laugh lightly, dragging your gaze from the distracting way his dark hair falls over his forehead to Jinae and Youngjae bubbling away, something about not having seen one another since graduation, and how they both will be working on their Master’s. Finally you look to Mark, who stands beside BamBam with an expression of delight gracing his features, watching two separate groups of friends intermingle.

“Yeah, this is a bit much,” you admit at last, refocusing on him once the cogs inside your brain begin working again. “I like it, though.”

Jackson grins widely and you positively swoon. He laughs. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you’ve survived three years avoiding Bam, your life is probably going to go downhill from here.”

“Hey!” The plump-lipped model—oh, he could definitely be a model parading down the runway with that face—cuts in, his brows drawn together in mock irritation. You choke, making a noise of surprise when he continues, pulling you into a tight side hug. “This is the beginning of the best chapters of their lives.”

“Keep dreaming, bud,” Mark snorts, slapping his shoulder. You watch from under his chin as BamBam frowns, shooting your friend a glare that could most definitely kill if it weren’t for the dazzling grin that follows.

“Where’s everyone else?” Mark questions as BamBam unwinds his arms from around you—why do they have to be hot and nice?

“Dad and Dad are trying to fix the sink and Yugyeom is...” Jackson says. Rubbing at his bottom lip, he trails off, looking to Youngjae and BamBam. “Where is Yugyeom?”

“I think he went to get chocolate milk,” Youngjae chuckles, dark hair falling over his eye as he does so. “You know how he is.” You look to Jackson, whispering, “Who’s Dad and Dad?”

“Jaebum and Jinyoung. They own this place, plus we’re all pretty certain that they’re an item, so we call them that. They’re in the back,” he explains, nodding to the archway. At this, you hear the muffled noises bustling from behind the curtain that you had not noticed beforehand.

“And Yugyeom?”

“Oh,” Jackson smirks again—trouble—and makes his way back to the counter, “He’s the big ol’ goof. You’ll like him.”

“You guys have bubble tea, right?” Mark changes the subject as Youngjae and BamBam follow Jackson. With them not clustered around you any longer, you take another moment to glance all around, pausing your meandering to glance over the options on the menu. Fried chicken, tacos, rice bowls, kimchi fried riceballs... kimchi cheese fries? You jab your elbow into Jinae's side, nodding to the overhanging menu, "Kimchi cheese fries, dude."

"That's definitely not part of my diet."

"Oh, fuck the diet," you hiss, earning a sharp glare, but you roll your eyes nevertheless.

"No, the bubble tea menu is just there for fun," Jackson snorts, finally responding to Mark’s question and grinning like a madman. Youngjae is howling, smiling so bright you fear his whole jaw may break. "Hilarious," Mark grumbles, turning to you for backup. When he finds you mirroring Jackson's expression, though, he frowns. "This was a mistake."

"Oh, lighten up," you coo, ruffling his parted hair, but he smacks your hand away with a huff. You roll your eyes and look to BamBam, who stands ready for your order. You say, "I'll have a large black milk with tapioca and, uh, hm—a chicken rice bowl."

"Sure," he hums, tapping the screen. "That's gonna be fifteen ninety-one.”

"Make it ten," Jackson butts in, grinning like he just won the lottery. Oh, you're burning up now. You smile to the floor but hide it as you fish for money in your pocket. "Thanks," you manage to croak out, passing the cash to BamBam. After he’s finished, he smacks Jackson on the shoulder, muttering something about his discounts for hot girls putting them out of business, which causes the elder to howl in faux pain while shuffling to the archway to yell back your order. You watch the entire episode with an amused smile that can’t seem to leave your face. You shake your head and at last move to sit on one of the barstools while Jinae orders.

“Should I pay for hers?” Mark whispers, leaning onto the ledge with an expression of apprehension etched onto his face. He chews on his lip. “Yeah, that’s sweet,” you grin, and with an encouraging squish of his cheeks, you push him forward.

You watch, utterly zoned in and praying to every god out there that he does not turn into an awkward pile of mush. The grin can’t seem to leave your face when he steps up beside her and—

“Oh my God, he’s become a man,” says a voice from beside you suddenly. You nearly jump out of your skin, jerking in your seat. “Holy fucking shit!” You wheeze, clapping a hand over your heart but, alas, this does not comfort the additional torment your essential organ faces once you look up to said tormentor.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the boy-man-squish giggles—he giggles—with pinkpinkpink, heart-shaped lips pulling back to reveal quite possibly the cutest and most endearing smile you have ever seen.

And, just like that, you sit there, dumbfounded, positively enamored by this—this attacker, with every last working brain cell stuttering to a halt to admire him. “Oh,” you laugh—or was that another wheeze?—with a cough, then you clear your throat, squinting in some sort of weak attempt to make eye contact instead of gawking at his windblown, light golden brown hair that, conveniently, falls right into his eyes. However, as soon as you focus on the darkness of his irises, you realize you are totally, unquestionably screwed, lost in the depths of his nearly black eyes—obsidian is a better word—and even though there is nothing astoundingly exceptional or different about him, you simply cannot help feeling absolutely overwhelmed within a matter of seconds.

“That’s okay,” you finally force out. “I just didn’t see you come in.”

He smiles softer this time, and while your heart still jumps at the expression, you force yourself to look back to Mark and Jinae before a heart attack ensues. You come to find you missed whatever proceeded Mark’s initiative. However, judging by the threatening smiles and rosy cheeks, you assume it had to have gone well, and so your interest that's burning like a wildfire to peek at the boy that remains beside you proves to be preeminent.

Upon twisting back around, you take notice to the plastic twenty-two-ounce convenience store cup, full of what looks like chocolate milk, gripped lazily in his hand, an outrageous juxtaposition to his height and strong features. Condensation drips from the bottom and onto the tiled floor. You ask, hardly without thinking, “Are you Yugyeom?”

“That’s me,” Yugyeom hums, eyes scrunching into precious crescents as he smiles. “How’d you know?”

“They were talking about where you were earlier,” you say, waving your hand to the others. “Mentioned chocolate milk, so I assumed that was you.”

“Of course. That seems to be my only known trait,” snorts Yugyeom, sending his friends a condescending glare despite them being deep in their own conversations. You snort out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand when his eyes fly back to soak in your reaction. You compose yourself, then say, “That’s not true. Jackson called you a goof.”

“Wow,” he sighs, frowning, and you watch with a grin etched onto your face as he slaps a hand over his chest. “What did Jinyoung say? Do I have to kill him?”

Snorting quieter this time, you shake your head. “I haven’t met him, so he didn’t say anything. Homicide is not necessary today, bud.”

Yugyeom beams—fuck, it is so unfair to be this good-looking—lifting his cup up to take a long sip. “Hold up,” he pauses, chewing on the straw, “are you ___?” Upon hearing your name fall from his lips, you sit up straighter in your seat as if being on a name-basis suddenly changes things. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Mark has a habit of talking about you and Jinae when he’s with us, seeing that you’re his only other friends,” Yugyeom says proudly, diverting his gaze to the aforementioned boy who is settled beside Jinae at the other seats. He takes another sip of his drink. “Well, it’s mostly about your friend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how many days he went on about there being a girl in the locker room.”

Your mouth falls open. “No way!”

“Totally serious. He was annoyed about not having the room for himself for a while, but he always whined about you being pretty, and then one day he started complaining about how sarcastic you are and how he can never win with you, so I guess his little crush ended. And then he met Jinae,” Yugyeom explains, grinning mischievously. “And we all know how it is now.”

“I’m—wow,” you whisper, flabbergasted, mostly from the clarification but also, deep down, hearing the unfairly tall boy use the adjective pretty while talking about you. “I’m glad they met, then. He’s too stinky and old for me.”

“Wait, aren’t—”

BamBam’s sudden calling of your name interrupts whatever the blonde was about to ask. You nearly stumble out of the barstool but relax upon realizing he has only placed your order on the counter, ready for you to grab. “I got it,” pipes Yugyeom from beside you and, heart hammering in your chest, you watch with starry eyes as he places his cup beside you before skipping over and taking your tea and a disposable paper bowl from the counter.

“Thanks,” you smile appreciatively as he places the order in front of you. You twist to sit correctly in your seat. Instead of staring at the wall, you watch curiously as the iced chocolate boy shimmies onto the chair next to you. You clear your throat. “You were saying?”

“Hm?—Oh! Yeah, aren’t you in the class above mine?”

You nod, tearing open the chopstick packet and diving right into the dangmyeon and honey soy chicken. “That’s what Mark told me.” You pause, stuffing food into your mouth. “Although, if I were to judge you by your height,” you chew, letting out a mesmerized sigh at the unacceptably delicious flavors,  “I would have thought you were older.”

Yugyeom, smiling charmingly once more, breaks into laughter. “Would you want to try that again without your mouth full?”

You gape, kicking his shin before silently realizing you’re not close enough with him to do that. Grumbling, you say, “What else am I supposed to do when you’re trying to talk to me when I’m eating?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave you be,” he chuckles to himself, taking a slow sip of his milk, and you look back to your meal, digging down to the rice and prodding tacky clumps into your mouth. Your neck suddenly begins to prickle at the notion that you’re being watched. With another mouthful, you slurp up a dangling noodle before building up the courage to look at the blonde only to find him already watching you intently, a lazy smile softening his features.

“You know,” you say as he raises a brow. You take a sip of your tea for effect, nearly choking on an unexpected tapioca ball. You continue, “A stranger watching you eat is rather uncomfortable, especially when it comes to noodles.”

“What else is there to do? Talk to Mark and his girlfriend?” Yugyeom retorts playfully, nodding to the pair, and you smack yourself when the idea of pushing away a stray strand of hair that falls into his left eye arises. Instead, you follow his gaze to Jinae and Mark cheerfully talking away.

“Point taken. Don’t you work here, or something?”

“I get out at one,” he confirms, chuckling when you oh-so-gracefully miss your mouth. Rice lands on your bare thigh. His gaze trails the grains and, upon realizing your lack of clothing, his cheeks flush cherry red, and you fight back a laugh. Deciding to save him from his internal, middle school boy panic, you continue, checking the time on your phone, “It’s one now. Yet when I got here, you weren’t working.”

“I had to get my iced choco.”

“But… don’t you need to work?”

“Eh,” he twists to look at the three behind the counter. “They don’t need me.”

“I don’t think that’s how jobs work, but okay,” you laugh, picking up the dumpling—Jesus, why is everything so good?—and, panicking over the fact that the conversation is ending, you opt to continue, devouring your meal in silence.

Barely two swallows later, a hand slaps against your shoulder and you drop yet another mound of rice as you lurch in surprise.

“Do you like swimming? In the ocean?”

Jackson, looking way more handsome than your average employee should—you’d love to meet the parents of everyone in this room—grins mischievously down at you, dropping his hand.

“Of course. My parents practically threw me into the sea the day I was born,” you joke, slapping yourself on the back when he rears his head to let out a roaring, high-pitched laugh. “Why?”

“On days when we get out at the same time, we always head down and stay until, like, seven. Do you guys want to come with us?”

“Oh.” Nearly choking on the lack of a response, you twist to look at Yugyeom, who watches with the same gentle smile that has not left his face. You cough, turning back around. “Definitely! That’ll be fun. Who is us, though?”

“Me, Jackson, Youngjae, and Bam,” Yugyeom interjects. Once more you turn and offer him a thankful smile before glancing back to Jackson, then past him to Mark and Jinae still chattering away over their meals like two doves sharing a bird bath. You sigh, half out of the dejection that comes with achieving the role of a third wheel but partially over the greedy realization that this means you may have these new friends to yourself. You clear your throat, glancing back between Yugyeom and Jackson before you say, “Are you the type of guys who like to yell ‘shark’ when we’re swimming?”

Jackson smirks. “Shit, are you not into that?”

Within the span of the time it takes for the foursome to change behind a dumpster outside of the grill and join you on your walk down through the sand, you have come to learn four things.

One—these five boys together are louder than any colony of seagulls fighting over a half-bite of a sandwich (if you have ever been the victim of that scene).

Two—Youngjae and Mark are co-parents to a fur child.

“You’re a dad?” You initially hissed, nearly dropping all the belongings you carried. “Coco is a dog,” Mark sighed, clearly exasperated by your conclusion-jumping. You rolled your eyes. “You never told me you had a dog.”

Three—Mark’s friends have a very in-depth plan to give him and Jinae their final push.

“You have to stay as distant from them as possible. We’re going to be your new best friends,” Jackson whispered once you fell in step beside him. “How do you plan on getting them together?” You whispered back, laughter lacing your tone at the idea of scheming on their future relationship. Jackson paused, blinking. He looked to Yugyeom on your side, who casually shrugged.

“We’ll have to leave during random times so they’re left alone together,” BamBam piped up from beside Jackson, nodding to the aforementioned pair walking ahead.

And four—when you are not used to it, insecurity has the claws of a vulture and the weight of an anchor.

And yet, insecurity may be the wrong word. Whatever it is, it sparks a small fire in your tummy, and butterflies are gradually coming to life at your obvious delay, barely there until you proceed to remove your tee. At this, you are startlingly aware of the quick glances thrown your way, and this is when it grows. Or, were there even glances? Had you imagined it? Yeah, that’s what happened, you tell yourself, laying your blanket onto the lumpy sand with unexpected accuracy that only comes with years of doing so. No, they’re staring, definitely staring. An internal panic—an unknown panic—now a forest fire, heart thumping against a glass ribcage. No, nobody is even looking.

You cast an inspecting glance over your newfound group, all mindlessly busy with their own belongings, until—there it is!—there's a fleeting peek from choco boy. You gulp, catching the way the right side of his mouth quirks up. Once you catch his agonizingly long stare, you look away, focusing on flattening the edges of the blanket until you realize, fuck, your boobs, practically spilling out like the Niagara Falls broadcasted on television for all to see with this position. Scrambling to stand upright—fuck the blanket—you skip on the sunscreen orgy and hurry towards the white blanket of froth that forms as the tide gradually approaches the shore, sighing in relief as your toes come into contact with the nippiness of the waves.

So. That’s what it was. Who it was. Shivering against the waves, you trudge on, dodging a wailing child who stomps madly toward his mother. You sigh blissfully as the burning temperature of your skin—whether it be from your fizzing nerves or from the sun beating down relentlessly—drastically cools once you duck through a wave.

In the past you were able to brush off passing thoughts of those around you, those watching you and possibly judging you, by starting up a conversation with Jinae, and even when Mark began joining you, he was so enamored by her that you knew you had nothing to worry about.

However, this is the first time in years you are at the beach with a group predominantly male.

Pushing back your now saturated hair and kicking your legs to stay afloat, you spin to look for your crowd, squinting at the shore that fades into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light, and search through the masses of gaudily colored umbrellas and chairs until you catch sight of your blanket and what looks like Mark practicing a backflip in the sand. Mark, Jinae, Youngjae, BamBam… fuck. Recounting, with your fingers this time, and still coming up with a measly four, you shudder into a silent panic all over again, rifling through the clustered vacationers for two certain boys. However, once you do in fact locate the duo resurfacing after diving with aesthetic synchronization under a wave, it seems to only benefit in their search for you, seeing as the older of the two beams like a star and quickens his pace.

“Thought we lost you there for a second,” Jackson greets. At this, you conclude that you may never get over his smile, and you force yourself to turn to the horizon in order to gather your thoughts. “Well,” you grin, looking between him and Yugyeom, both tanned honey gold from daily exposure to the sun, “You found me.”

“What happened back there? You looked like you saw a ghost,” Yugyeom continues, staring up at him. You wonder whether or not the glint in his eyes is innocent but brush it off as simple, playful banter. “I don’t know,” you lie, shrugging. “I think I just got really hot.”

Jackson hums, oblivious to the unexpected tension that has you longing to swim off to another nation and never return. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Yugyeom shrugs, finally breaking eye contact in order to look to his hyung. “Yeah, I mean, at least in the beginning. Don’tcha think they’ll catch on eventually, though?”

In the midst of focusing on jumping up with the current of the waves, you process their words, realizing you really do not even know what they are talking about. “Does this have to do with Mark and Jinae?”

“Mhm,” Jackson starts. “While we’re here, Bam and Youngjae are conveniently going to take a nap.”

“Oh, smart. You guys are really serious about setting them up, aren’t you?”

“At this rate, they aren’t going to do it themselves,” Jackson chuckles, running a hand through his darkened locks, pushing wet strands back. Your gaze absently follows the action. Barely a heartbeat later, salt water is splashed at your face, stinging at your eyes, but you are quick to squeeze them closed. Upon opening them again, you come to find Jackson, eyes wide and honest, and Yugyeom, biting down on rosy lips to hide his laughter.

“Did you just—” splash.

He does it again!

“Oh, you ass!” You yelp, lunging forward and reaching out for the younger boy’s shoulders. No matter how new of a friend he is, this is war. You fight against the strong tug of the ocean at your body. Cackling like a hyena, Yugyeom dodges your weak attempt of a punch, smacking away your insistent hands and shit, you can’t touch the floor anymore. In a split-second decision, you dive beneath the surface and peel open your eyes as much as you can despite the salty sting prompting you to close them. You swim toward your assailant, wrapping your hands around his leg, just above the knee. When you dig your nails lightly into his skin, you nearly choke on a mouthful of water at just how muscular his thigh is. When he starts to squirm away from your grasp, all mouthwatering daydreams about the thighs your new friend possess disappear, and you regain your pose, releasing his leg for hardly a second, just long enough to dig your fingers instead into his side and resurface.

“Stop!” He whines, thrashing away from your tickling. He splashes more water your way as a result. Once he finally trips over his own feet and his head submerges under an approaching wave you finally relent, backstroking away from him to an amused Jackson. “What a thot,” you grumble, rubbing the sting away from your eyes and warily watching the child as he recovers from your attack. “I met you guys hardly an hour ago and suddenly we’re close enough to beat one another up.”

Jackson shrugs, flicking your shoulder, and you shoot him a warning glare.

“I told you we’re going to have to be your new best friends,” he says.

“You! I could’ve died!” Shouts a bewildered Yugyeom as he swims over, looking way too gorgeous for someone who just got knocked by a wave. Despite his playful exaggeration, you smack away the finger he waggles in your face with an eye roll. “You splashed water in my face! Twice!”

“You were staring!”

“Staring? Staring at what?” You snort, unable to even recall what was happening before he suddenly splashed you. “I—hm. Nothing,” he sighs, the apples of his cheeks blooming pink. He looks down and focuses on the ripples of the water. “Never mind.”

“Ooh. ‘Kay,” you laugh awkwardly, looking to Jackson, who mirrors your puzzled expression. Finally letting silence settle in comfortably, you look to the shore in search of Jinae’s obnoxious rainbow umbrella to find all four lying on their towels.

“Anyway, I’m going to see how things are going. Try not to kill each other,” Jackson smirks—how dare he—before moving with the current to shallower waters.

Now what?

Praying to every god out there that conversation will come as fluidly as it did back at JJ’s, you look to Yugyeom, only to witness him with his leg held to his chest as he pulls a shell from between his toes. You wrinkle your nose, laughing, “Did you just pick that up with your foot?”

“It bit me!” He whines, frowning.

“The shell bit you?”

“No,” he caves, grinning stunningly. “It’s a hermit crab.” As he speaks, he moves closer to you, rolling the small cerith shell onto his palm before holding it out to you. “Aw,” you pout, pushing your wet hair away from your face to lean closer as the crab hesitantly taps Yugyeom’s hand with its claws. “They’re so cute.”

He snorts. “Not when they bite you.”

“That’s called karma,” you smirk, cupping your hands for him to drop the crab into. “People who splash their new friends and practically blind them get bitten by crabbies.”

“You’re very dramatic,” Yugyeom says, watching you the same way you adoringly watch the hermit crab. Your attention, however, is not so fixated on the small crustacean in your hand as it is on the slow rise and fall of Yugyeom’s chest—right there in front of you. Tears of water race down the toned muscles of his stomach each time the water level climbs and retreats. You’re just in the middle of ogling when you take notice to the sharp, black edges of tattoos on his sides, more so to the intricate pattern you can only partially see on his right. No, you scold yourself. What are you doing? You just met him today. Shaking your head to rid your mouthwatering daydreaming, you say, “So are you, Mr. I-splashed-you-for-staring. By the way, let me see your tattoo.”

“You’re not going to have it pinch me, right?” He chuckles cautiously, casting a wary glance to said it, and you laugh, gently letting the waves take the hermit crab out of your hands with a shake of your head. “I said I wanted to see it, not pinch it.”

Rolling his eyes, Yugyeom finally lifts his toned arm up to offer a better view to the precise design of a flower, a rose, on his side. You ignore his quiet intake of breath when your fingers subconsciously trace at the detailed ink. “It’s so pretty. I’d kill to do something like this.”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You should, then.”

You scoff, finally stepping back. “I wish, but then I’d have to deal with my parents. They already threw a tantrum when I got my first.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh,” you chuckle, heat rising to your cheeks—God, how old are you?—at the realization that answering his question would take a bit more effort considering you’re shoulder-deep in the ocean, “I’ll have to show you when we get out.”

“Sure,” he hums with a pretty smile, looking around quietly as you drop beneath the surface to once again cool the heat scorching your body. Then, when you come up, he says, “Do you want to get out now?”

“Yeah. We should tell Jackson we smacked each other or something,” you grin, beginning to head back to shore with him trailing a few steps behind. Once you get to the point where the waves start to break, you cross your arms over your chest to keep the girls in place, angling your body to avoid being knocked to the ground for an inevitably sandy, humiliating death.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll think of something,” says Yugyeom.

The sarcasm lacing his tone has not even registered in your brain when his hands are on your waist, shoving you forward until you helplessly trip over the force of the current, flailing ungracefully into the sand with a cry that only gets smothered with the wave passing over your head. That son of a bitch.

When you surface and rub the stinging water from your eyes, you watch unamused as he reels back in laughter, louder than any of the children around you, and with him not paying attention you grab at his ankles, tripping him into his own sandy misery and ignoring all the judgmental stares from bothered teenagers sent your way. Although, you realize much too late that you should have taken him falling on you into consideration. This still does not prepare you for an elbow in the gut and his unfairly giant build squashing you further into the sand. To make it worse, as a wave recedes and another surges forward, all you can focus on is the gritty sand smearing your skin as you tussle in battle with Yugyeom.

“You are,” you spit, finally shoving him off once you’ve gained some safety from the waves, “a royal pain in the ass.”

Unable to contain his laughter, Yugyeom stays on the ground. You wrinkle your nose grossly at the sand not only coating your hair but also his lightened locks. At his lack of a reply, you scoop up a handful of wet sand and slap it onto his stomach. “Hey! That wasn’t cool,” he whines, reclining up on his elbows and glaring at the glop of sand spreading over his abdomen, torso heaving with laughter, “c’mon, that was pretty funny.”

Your irritated façade finally breaks once he flashes an unfairly adorable, boyish grin, and you finally join in with his laughing, scooping up more soppy sand and dribbling it on his toned arm. It does not hit you until he only frowns playfully instead of stopping you how unexpectantly intimate yet natural it is for someone you just met. “I like the tattoo,” Yugyeom suddenly states, poking at the lavender and coral shaded scallop shell right above the waist of your bottoms. You jolt in surprise, cheeks burning at his friendly gesture that only further supports your earlier thoughts.

“Thanks,” you smile. With the last bit of sand glopping onto his stomach, you cringe at your own state of filthiness. “c’mon, we should wash this off. And no more tackling.”

With another quiet laugh, Yugyeom stands to his feet, watching sickeningly as wet sand slides off his body and back into the shallow water with an unpleasant plop! Then, much to your surprise, he reaches his arm down to help you up. “I think your knee went up my ass,” he giggles once you’re up, walking ahead and using the waves to wash off. you grimace at the thought while walking out further to rinse out your hair. “Yeah, and you nearly pulled my top off,” you scoff, cupping water into your hands and scrubbing the sand off your skin. “You’re like a little kid.”

“And you complain too much,” he fires back once you start heading back. This time you keep a watchful eye on him in case he tries to pull another stunt. You gasp playfully, slapping a hand over your heart. “Ouch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yugyeom says. You look over to catch his playful expression. His lips are curled up into a sly smile and his dark eyes twinkle mischievously. “it’s hot.”

You blink, suddenly overwhelmed. Walking alongside the unfairly tall boy you look back to your feet, wary of holes dug and left exposed as a tripping hazard by reckless children. You scoff. “Since when is being a bitch hot?”

“Technically I paused in between those phrases, so I could’ve been talking about the temperature,” Yugyeom says, smirking like the little jerk he is as you lean down to pick up your towel. “What are the first three letters of assuming?”

Scowling, you contemplate kicking up a shower of dry sand if Jackson was not snoozing peacefully next to your own layout. Instead, you punch his arm and watch in satisfaction as he grimaces. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Please leave me alone now.”

“I need help putting on suntan lotion, though,” he pouts just as you plop down onto your blanket, towel wrapped snugly around your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?” You groan, falling back and glaring upside down at him, biting back your laughter when he lets out a loud sigh. “Please? Just my back.”

“Oh my God. Fine, you big baby. I’m not moving, though, so pop a squat.” Finally giving in, you lean up with a defeated sigh, scooting over to leave enough room for his tall ass. You watch disgruntledly as he drops beside you, crossing his legs with his back faced to you. Once he passes back the bottle, you give it a good shake before twisting the cap off. Spraying routinely over is skin, you mutter an apology when he breaks out in goosebumps. “Here,” you mumble, tossing the bottle into his lap before rubbing the greasy spray further over his back and shoulders. You cringe for a millisecond before quickly swiping over the lowest area at the waistband of his bottoms and slapping his shoulder. “Begone, thot.”

When he spirals to face you, you are momentarily whiplashed, and you almost—almost—tell him that he’s so pretty with the mole under his eye and indisputably gorgeous face. However, you quickly remind yourself, oh yeah, you have only known him for a few hours. Fortunately, he replies to your banter, concluding your drool-worthy trance.

“I’m not moving. Just because you called me that.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as he casually flops over and onto his stomach, burying his face between crossed arms without another word. “You—You’re despicable. You have a whole towel to yourself. Leave me be,” you protest, poking his ribs with your foot, still wrapped cozily in your towel.

At your insistent jabbing, he finally pulls an arm away and seizes your ankle, holding it still with an amused smile while he stares up at you. He looks way too hot for someone so incredibly, undeniably annoying. “Yugyeom,” you whine defeatedly, poking his thigh with your other foot. You watch the confidence only grow over his features. You say, “Stop being an ass.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought we were here to set up Mark and Jinae, not you two children,” BamBam suddenly grumbles from beside Jackson, leaning up on his elbows and scowling in your direction. “We’re the same age as you,” Yugyeom retorts, looking to him with a glare. You wait for him to deny BamBam’s accusation, heart thumping loudly in your chest, and yet he doesn’t. “Shut up or I’ll kill you,” BamBam grumbles, realizing it’s not worth the fight. He returns to his interrupted napping.

Laughing, you accept defeat as well and remove yourself from your towel’s shielding concealment, crumpling it into a ball as a pillow and placing it down a few inches from Yugyeom’s head. You lay on your stomach beside him. “Your friends threaten to kill you a lot.”

“It’s because I’m the baby,” he grumbles, resting his head on his wrists to look at you. You do the same.

He continues. “It’s whatever, though. They’re just jealous I’m taller than them.”

“No, you’re just annoying,” faintly, you hear BamBam mumble. Laughing, you cover your mouth with your hand. “I agree with him,” you whisper, the smirk growing harder to hide when Yugyeom frowns in playful hurt. “Shut up,” he grumbles, kicking your ankle with his own. “Don’t you need sun lotion?”

“I put some on before work.”

“But you went in the water,” he pouts, “and that was hours ago.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, heart warm at his concern. “It’s almost four, anyway. The sun isn’t as strong.”

“Oh,” Yugyeom seems to accept this, eyes traveling to your shoulder and lingering there long enough until you feel the heat spread from your head to your toes. Then he looks back to your face, expression soft. “You don’t actually mind if I nap here, right?”

Smiling against the dampness of your crumpled towel, you quietly say, “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t kick me, or something.”

“I can’t make that promise,” he smiles once more before finally resting his forehead on his forearms. You study what you can see of his relaxed silhouette for a moment before messily tying up your damp hair and comfortably burying your face into the towel with a peaceful sigh. What an odd individual.

What an odd joy.

Two hours and a series of blurred insignificant events later, you find yourself lying on your back. A hand jerks your shoulder and brings you back to blurred consciousness. “What?” You grumble, your mind hazy as a result of a long, hot nap that has your brain momentarily reeling at where you are. “It’s a little after six. I’m leaving. Are you good?”

Squeezing your eyes as a sort of fine tuning to get your mind back into business, you finally blink up to Jinae. Holding beach items in her arms, she tells you she's heading back up to your apartment. “Um,” you pause, straining to sit up and scan to see if the others are up. “I’m good. I’ll see you tonight.”

Once she’s off, a tired sigh escapes from your lips as you flip back onto your stomach. You easily drift off for another fifteen minutes or so before waking once more, this time to a screaming baby. Rubbing sandy knuckles over your eyes, you look to your side. Yugyeom, still fast asleep, remains spread out across your blanket, right hand positioned into a small hole in the sand an arm’s length away. You wonder if he dug it in his sleep.

“He sleeps like a dead man. Once we left without him and he came to me and Mark’s apartment at, like, two in the morning ready to kill us,” a voice grumbles ahead of you. Jackson is lying just as you are with a messy case of beachhead, strands dried and awkwardly sticking up in all directions. You laugh, momentarily looking away from the brunette to the dimming sun, which is much lower in the sky at this point. You finally respond, “I can tell. Every time I woke up, he was still knocked. Also, I didn’t know you were Mark’s roommate.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jackson glances over his shoulder to the other three boys still passed out on the sand. “Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just hear a lot about you. And now I have a face to match all the stories with.”

“Gosh, what does he say?”

You contemplate it for a moment. It's not like Mark has ever really talked shit. You decide on messing with him. “He says when you sleep, you talk about feet.”

Mouth hanging open, Jackson absorbs your bullshit before his face drains of color, spewing nonsense like a child caught in a lie. “What? Oh my God, you’re joking. You’re joking! Shit, you probably think I have a thing for feet or something. I swear I don’t, oh my—oh my God, bro. I definitely don’t talk about feet.” In an attempt to hold back your laughter resulting from his panic, you force your gaze elsewhere. You focus on Youngjae’s hair billowing from the light breeze until Jackson has exhausted himself breathless.

“I was joking,” you finally cave, but only when you glimpse the deep puppy frown he holds. “All he’s ever said it that you’re too loud in the morning.”

It takes Jackson a few seconds to process your trickery. He blinks. “Wow,” he heaves, sitting up onto his haunches. “I see how it is. You have betrayed me. I guess we’re enemies now.”

“Ha!” BamBam roars somewhere behind. “You really had him!”

“That was pretty good,” pipes Youngjae, sitting up and lifting his sunglasses to push back his hair. He pokes Mark beside him. “Yo, your side girl just flamed Jackson.”

“Side girl?” You snort just as Jackson flails to stand up, kicking sand in the process.

“No, she didn’t!” Jackson shouts defiantly, hands on his hips.

“What’d she say?” Mark grumbles tiredly, blinking to keep his eyes open. He reclines on his elbows.

While Youngjae fills him in, you look to Jackson, who shoots daggers your way but fails to hide his own humored grin. You stifle a laugh as Yugyeom stirs beside you. He mumbles, “What’s all the commotion for?”

“She,” Jackson says, looking at Yugyeom and pointing a finger at you, “is a bitch.” He smirks, flicking your forehead on his way back to his towel. You stick out your tongue. In response he adds, “But a smart bitch.”

“I thought we already established that.” Yugyeom sighs. You shoot him a glare, and he returns the gesture with a sleepy smile that extinguishes your urge to smack him.

“Hey,” you wrinkle your nose. “Since when is it ‘national attack ___ day?’ For a group of guys, you sure are babies.”

Jackson gasps. “Shit, she’s Jinyoung in female form.” He shakes BamBam by the shoulders. “We can’t let them meet. They’ll be too powerful.”

“You’re so whiny,” Yugyeom says sharply. All eyes fly to him. He shrugs. “They’ll be too powerful.”

“Oh shit,” BamBam snorts, moments before Jackson shoots up and charges for the younger boy. Yugyeom flounders away in time to run away. You dodge the sheet of sand sent your way with a prepared duck and watch the two sprint up the beach. “Tragic,” Mark comments as Yugyeom stumbles face-first into the sand and Jackson hops on top of him to choke him in a headlock.

“Well, that’s my queue to go,” you quip, patting around for your crumpled tee shirt, finding it, and pulling it over your head. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” Shaking the sand out from your blanket, you become startlingly aware of the sudden silence hanging over the four like fog. You realize before Mark even speaks up that, chances are, this will be a regular thing.

He hesitantly says, “Well, I was thinking… maybe we could—”

“Yes. I know what you’re gonna say. I don’t think Jinae would mind hanging out, either. Anyway, I feel like I’ve known everyone for years, and the teasing is kind of fun,” you say, cutting him off. You return the smile he tries to hide before swinging your bag over your shoulder and waving to the others. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait!” Youngjae yelps. You watch with wide eyes as he jumps up and gives you a warm hug, encasing his arms around you only for a moment but still long enough for your heart to warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smile, patting his cheek and waving once more to BamBam and Mark. You start up looser sands when Jackson finally separates from Yugyeom after shoving him once more into the sand for good measure. “Careful you don’t kill him!” You shout over, watching with a laugh as the older boy whips his head up like a dog summoned by the shaking of the treat bag.

“Are you leaving?” He shouts, bouncing away from Yugyeom and jogging to you. Abs. “Yeah,” you say once he has reached you. “A shower is calling my name.”

“Are we hanging tomorrow?”

Looking to the three still lying out a few yards away, you shrug. “I’ll be here. Who knows with Jinae, though. Sometimes she gets bored of beachin’ every day.”

“Oh, well, whatever you guys decide to do, we’ll be here,” Jackson grins sinfully, slapping your arm before walking away. Of course you couldn’t have gotten a hug from him. “Keep your eyes out for the baby!” He suddenly calls, and you twist around to dumbly watch the tanned boy return to his friends. Your heart is suddenly beating loudly in your ears, and your internal fire only intensifies when said baby whines, pulling you into his chest, “Why are you leaving?”

Sucking in a necessary breath, you practically fall limp against Yugyeom’s hold, pressing your cheek against his chest but turning away from his friends in fear that they’re looking. “I want to shower. And eat. Plus, I have some dramas to catch up on.” At this he leans back, gazing down at you peculiarly. You’re painfully aware that his arms are still looped around your waist. He’s just a touchy guy, you tell yourself as he continues to groan like a child denied what he wants. “We could get food together.”

“Don't fret; I'll be back tomorrow,” you offer, satisfied when his lips quirk up and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And probably all the days after that. Also, when school starts, I bet we’ll all be hanging together. We have plenty of days to get food.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He smiles, his expression soft. Then he pulls you in for another hug. “Text me when you get home.”

Flustered, heart beating frantically, you choke out, “I don’t have your number?” Grunting in realization, Yugyeom reaches for your phone in your hand. You watch with a held breath as he tries each of your fingers for the correct fingerprint scan until it unlocks. He goes into the Messages app and puts in a new number. “You do now,” he smiles, irises reflecting gold specks. He hands your phone back, and it’s not until you cross both arms over your chest that you notice the goosebumps painting your skin. “Thanks,” you force, spinning on your heels and making way for the sandy walkway up the dunes.

“Come back to the grill tomorrow with Mark and Jinae!”

“I will!” You shout back, not daring to look back for fear that the tall boy will make your heart hurt more, in a way that it most certainly should not. You sigh and concentrate on the sand dried on your feet rather than how you hope he will decide to crash on your beach blanket again tomorrow.

“Pussy,” Jinae taunts as you crash onto her mattress. You struggle to stretch your leg out far enough to give her bare ass a feeble kick as she changes out of her uniform. Scoffing, you tumble to lie on your stomach, twirling a strand of recently washed hair in between your fingers. “Like you’re any better. I just met him today while you and Mark have been galloping around each other like eighth graders since summer started.”

“Touché,” Jinae says, accepting defeat. She tightens the strings of her sweatpants before thumping down on the bed to be beside you. The bed dips as she rolls to curl her form around your own. “I bet you’ll both be in love with one another by Saturday.”

You laugh and wrap your arm around her shoulders, running your fingers through her dark corkscrew curls, the only thing she fully acquired from her mother’s genes. “You and Mark already are in love. You just refuse to act on it.”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t wanna talk about him.”

Sighing, you tug harshly on a curl. “It’s gonna happen this week. You and Mark will be official.”

“Mhm,” she hums, smirking. “And so will you and Yugyeom, Miss We-Practically-Fucked-In-The-Ocean.”

“Stop,” you whine. You retract your arm and drape it over your face, shielding the burn that is creeping its way up. “Seriously, though,” Jinae giggles, tugging at your elbow. “I can’t believe you met each other today. The attraction was unbelievable. Chemistry classes across the world are quaking.”

“Shut up.” Groaning, you roll away from her relentless probing. “Listen, he’s cute. Really cute and yeah, sure, we got along great. But who said that I’m ready to date again? And you don’t even know if he would be interested.”

“You could always ask Mark,” Jinae says as you struggle off her bed, leaving her sprawled out alone. “Double dates!”

“Yeah, sure, Jinae. Keep dreaming.”

She pouts. “You’re no fun,” she huffs, reaching for her phone. “Get out, it’s almost two-thirty, and we have to get up soon.”

“Can’t we skip the jogging for one day? Sleep in? No one wants to see the literal ass crack of dawn,” you yawn. Folding your hands in prayer, you beg her to give you a break for one day. Jinae ponders it for a moment, rubbing her bottom lip with her index finger, before an open-mouthed grin evilly lights up her features. “Sure.”

Squinting, you waggle an accusing finger at her while slowly backing out of her room. “I don’t trust you. Try anything, Kim Jinae, and your ass is out on the street!”

“You can’t kick me out!”

“Yes, I can!” You shout, finally allowing your grin to show once you have closed her door.

Maybe some days are just a tad more joyous than others.