#why yes i am clothes shopping and yes the men’s section calls to me

[snowangeldotmp3]

me vs buying the most lesbian outfits i can find

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 4

Part 1 here.

John lets the men simmer for two days. Mostly he lets their trip to his seamstress ride to see if they brought it up to him. They didn’t. Guess he would be playing this the sly way.

“Found an old quilt from my grandmother when cleaning out my mum’s house last leave.”

Johnny’s brain sparked on the word association just as John hoped it would.

“Found out I can get my family kilts fixed up and preserved. Met a pretty lass who runs a shop that said it was a possibility.”

“Oh?” John folded his arms across his chest, encouraging Johnny to go on by tilting his head in interest.

“Yeah, pretty bird, kicked us out when we started asking about-”

He cut himself off pretty quick but John gave him a small scary smile.

“Asking about who, Johnny?”

Johnny started to back up, hands raised as he babbled his excuses.

“Finish your excuses and go get the guys.”

Johnny turned tail and fled from the room. His muppets filed in the room, Johnny getting forced by the neck by Simon who glared down at him. Must have wanted to keep this a secret. Should have known better than to tell Johnny. The man couldn’t keep a non-life-threatening secret to save anyone’s life. Kyle and Gary slid in after the duo.

“Muppets. You will leave my seamstress well enough alone or I will make it a problem for you.”

“So she is yours?” Gary piped up from the side.

Shooting him a glare John continued.

“I am grown enough to not explain myself to the lot of you, but if I get a call again about any of you bothering her I will make it everyone’s problem.”

Kyle smirked and spoke out one side of his mouth.

“Seems like Price can’t get a date.”

“Kyle I swear to my god and yours I will make you disappear if you keep it up. If your clothes go missing, just know they will be back. Now get out of here the lot of you.”

His men shared smiles and eye contact.

They hustled from the room when he picked up his blackened coffee mug to throw at one of them.

“Fucking muppets going to send me to an early grave. I don’t even have her phone number yet,” he mumbled to himself as the back of them disappeared.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

You think about John far more often than you should. He is a customer. Yes, he sleeps in your chairs and smiles at you in a way that pulls his cheeks to the moon, and yes he makes your heart flutter the tiniest bit but, but he is a customer who has never shown interest and you refuse to make someone feel uncomfortable in your shop. Your shop was a safe space, for everyone. Your flags are on clear display, so many, many flags, made sure of it.

He stepped through your thoughts carelessly. When you were wandering a superstore you somehow ended up in the camping section. A clearance foldable cot caught your eye and left the store with you. You maneuvered it into your tiny car and into the shop without allowing yourself to question why you had bought it.

John appeared two mornings following your purchase. You smile, wider than you should, at him.

“Hi John, welcome back! Got anything new and interesting for me today?”

Did you sound too chipper?

“Nothing crazy, one of my men needs a mask fixed.”

“Do you always bring in their items? I hope they are paying you at least,” you joke as you take the offered mask.

Spreading it on the counter you look it over, a tear over one ear and one from the eye portion. Both are decently easy fixes but would require your ring light and some time with a hand needle.

Looking up you offer John another smile. Fuck, can you keep the smiles to a minimum? He is going to think you are weird and then stop coming by.

“This shouldn’t take terribly long, I would say maybe an hour?”

John knocked one knuckle against the counter as he nodded. With both hands on the armrests, you remembered the cot in the back.

“Oh, John!”

He paused, ass halfway lowered into the seat.

“I..uh..” you stammer to a stop, unsure of how your words might be received.

“Yes?” He lifts a single brow at you, body not shaking as he waits.

Tucking one arm to your chest and the other to your mouth you speak from behind it.

“I found a cot. I brought it to the shop for you to use if you wanted?”

The words rush out of you, mumbled by your hand, and the speed by which you hurl them.

John stands, moving to stand next to the counter where the floor changes, noting the difference in customer space vs working space.

“What was that dove?”

Tightening your lips before biting the inside of your cheek you force yourself to say your words again. Slower, clearer you speak.

“I have a cot for you. In the back, so that you can sleep.”

His face goes blank as he blinks at you.

He looked a bit like a 404 code in the flesh.

A small smile breaks across his face as color spreads up his cheeks.

“For me?”

“Well,” you tighten both arms around your middle as you reply. “No one else seems to pay me for the privilege of sleeping in my shop, so yes?”

John rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

You awkwardly stare at him. What do you even say now? Do you invite him to lie down? No that sounded weird.

“Do you-”

“Why don-”

You both started and stopped at hearing the other’s voice.

Spinning on your heel you turned towards the storage room, confident John would follow. Popping the door open you can do nothing more than point to the cot, still covered in tape from the store.

John slides by you, chest brushing your arm and shoulder as he does. If you have to fight back the urge to take a bite? Well, he would never need to know.

“I can set it up for you if you don’t mind?” John looks back over his shoulder at you.

Knowing you are beet red you can only nod.

“I bought it for you but didn’t get a chance to,” you gesture at it as if your vague motion will explain all your thoughts.

John’s smile, eyes crinkling and shoulders softening, melted your heart.

“I’ll take care of it and then take a good nap. My men have started to comment that I am nicer to them after I get a nap here.” He knelt, pulling out a pocket knife and slicing open the package.

“Your men?” You lean against the door frame, unabashedly watching. “What is it you do for work John?”

“Special forces, I’m a captain. I lead a group of myself and four other men.”

“Well, that would explain a lot of the smells.”

He looks up at you, brow cocked.

“Smells?”

“Like fire, gunpowder, sweat, sometimes fear.”

“You get a lot of smell knowledge here?”

“I get a lot of everything here,” you shrug, unable to articulate how no matter how clean a piece of cloth some lingering smells clung.

John turns back to his task. You spend far, far too long watching him. The way his shoulders dip and arms change shape as he uses them. When the cot is built and John stands he turns and catches sight of you, you give a panicked smile and flee for the counter where you had left the mask.

Slamming your body into your chair you turned on your ring light, pulled your black thread, and focused diligently on fixing the holes you had been asked to address. John did not reappear for nearly an hour. You had finished the mask sooner than that but had not yet found the fortitude to go and wake him.

The creases on his face matched the lines on the shoulder of his shirt, and the slight drool stain.

“Right on time?”

You smile and nod.

“Well let’s settle up and I will find a reason to be back in a few days.” John returns to the customer side of the counter, sure of himself and you.

“You don’t have to pay me to come nap if that is all you need,” you start.

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“My men are hard on clothes. If I can get you some business I feel less bad about using you for some shut-eye.”

Supposing you had to accept that answer you unlock your tablet and complete the transaction.

Once his card clears you pass over the mask.

“You’re jewelry box should be done by Christmas.”

He drops the statement as if he forgot to bring it up until now.

“Christmas should be fine, I don’t have many plans though I will be out of town the week of Christmas proper. I will be visiting my grandmother.” Paternal grandmother since your mother was not allowed to visit, but no need to mention that.

“We will have to find some time to ensure I can get you the gift then,” he smiled as he said it.

“I told you I would pay for it John,” you chide.

With a shrug, he tucked the mask into his pocket and stepped back from the counter.

“Can’t pay me for a Christmas present dove.”

With that, he waved and pushed through the front door.

“The hell I can’t,” you spoke to the empty shop.

Part 5

Masterlist

[3liza]

saw a youtube sponsorship for a brand that markets itself as "masculine shoes in small sizes, for trans men" and if the entire idea wasn't already preposterous (this is part of a large scale marketing push to convince trans people that clothing that has been available on the normal heterosexual market for generations is "hard to find" so they can charge you hundreds of dollars for it), it's also ugly, and they have chosen to call their company "Tomboy Toes". if you said those two words to my face in a shoe store i would slap you

$120 for a black or brown version of the standard school uniform brogue which has been available all the way down to toddler sizes since uhhhhhhh approximately 1820.

just to double check my sense of reality i went to the largest single online shoe market on earth besides Amazon (zappos) and typed in "women's brogues" and selected size 5 which would be pushing the lower limit on the larger part of the bell curve of adult AFAB people on earth, or at least the northern hemisphere, and there are many options in approximately the same price range depending on brand name, with sales regularly down to much less, on similar or identical styles. ebay also. Tomboy Toes carries down to size EU33 which is around 3.5 US Women's and again, that's just in the children's section if you need Picture Day/uniform (children)/ Office Whatever (adult) Shoes and they are on eBay lightly used in great numbers because kids grow out of them in 6-10 months.

is it annoying to be shopping in "women's section" or "kids section" for these things when you are an adult man. yes. so i dont understand the marketing impetus to replicate that exact scenario by naming your company for adult trans men something i would assume was a sassy yet misguided terf brand if i found it on a label in a generic wingtip at Goodwill. cis men who are very small also have to shop in the small sections for their small clothes. i am wearing a t-shirt meant for a 7 year old right now, it says so on the label. it fits me better than any of the shirts i own that are made for the standard american adult. i literally have bigger things to worry about

naturally their "vegan leather" selection is much larger but again, it's ugly Trendy Booties that will fall apart in a year and are, i cant emphasize this enough, made of plastic, nothing special, and in standard women and children's sizes which are already plentiful at every shoe retailer. why are we letting these "trans brands" charge us a $100 tax to pretend to take us seriously (while at the same time calling us "tomboys")? does anyone know

i do, its actually because of the learned helplessness issue again. the accepted wisdom at the tumblr layer of transness is 'its so hard to find [item of clothing that is suitable for trans people]" because the knowledge of how to shop for these items in the actual market has completely evaporated within the last ten years, i watched it happen right in front of me. but it's a complete fallacy, you can find this stuff easily. you can find large women's shoes, small men's shoes, women's clothing with wide shoulders or long torsos, there are entire stores for this already and measurements and sectiions within "department stores" (such as they are) and then after that there are one million billion foam inserts and seams and button placements and belts and scarves and gloves and hem lengths and blah blah blah that trans people and also cis people who are not standard-shaped or who just want their shoes or bras or shirts to fit have already been using for thousands of years so ive been mad about this all day. TOMBOY TOES. they are having us for absolute fools. just call me a slur at this point

i already know some nincompoop is going to match me paragraph for paragraph in a heated defense of the hundred dollar jingle keys boring shoes so i just want them to know in advance: we are not the same. i have so many cool shoes it is unbelievable. in every gender imaginable. and i didn't pay more than like $50 for any of them. also no theres no cheat sheet to learning to buy clothing for your body, i do not say this with any rancor either, its just hard, it takes a long time, and i dont have a cheatsheet for it because there isnt one. except rule #1: dont buy $120 boring ugly shoes from someone jingling their keys in front of your face and calling it Queer Fashion when you can get them for a lot less basically anywhere $120 isnt even a lot for a GOOD pair for mid-range, non-designer leather dress shoes. if you know they will last for ten years and stand up to resoling, it's completely fine. but not for thooooooose

[softquietsteadylove]

We all know how buff Gil is build right? So how about Gil goes shopping for himself and Thena decides to go with him and he is struggling to find something fitting? Would be a funny story! You choose in wich AU it’s happening 😂

"Thena, thank fuck you're here!"

Thena laughs as Gil rushes over to her as soon as she steps foot into the department store. He called her at work, which had really freaked her out given they hadn't been back home for too long. And they had been keeping Gil in the flat as much as possible, careful about who might see him out and about if he roamed too freely.

But he likes running errands, like getting groceries and little household supplies. He keeps the flat immaculate and prepares beautiful meals for them, since what else is he supposed to do with his days, she supposes.

"Why are the sizes so complicated?" he frowns at her, holding a few different shirts of the same make in his hands. "I just thought I was stopping by to grab some clothes for around the house. But now I've been here for 45 minutes and I don't know what size I am anymore."

Thena laughs, taking the shirts from him to at least physically alleviate his burden. She flips through them, looking at the tags of each. "Did you really pick up one in every size?"

"Except small," he shrugs, joining her as she walks them back to the men's section.

"Does a medium fit you?" she asks, her eyes just starting to drift over him before she stops herself. That's not a good idea.

"Well, sometimes American sizes will fit me," Gil offers helplessly. "Korean shirts basically always had to be tailored for me."

Thena's eyes flicked down to his arms for just a second. Yes, she could see how that might be a problem for him. "Let's start with a regular old large for now."

Gil sighs, though. "That's the problem, though."

Thena raises her brows.

"Just," he takes the shirts from her hands again and leads her back to the changing room he had abandoned to go wait for her, "come with me."

Thena sets her purse down as she takes a seat outside of the stalls. She can see a mess of other articles of clothing in the room before he closes the door. She wonders if he's really only been here for 45 minutes.

"See?" Gil practically whines, holding his hands out in front of him in a helpless gesture. "They're too tight."

Thena blushes, although she tells herself not to. It's silly, really. She was so used to seeing Gilgamesh in business suits all throughout her time working for him. But just a t-shirt and jeans are working for him.

Gil pouts as she stands to examine the way the seams of the sleeves dig into his biceps. "It's kind of fine otherwise."

Actually, it's already a little looser everywhere else than he would like, she thinks. She tilts her head, "I don't know, Gil."

Gil slumps his shoulders again. "See?--this is exactly why I called you. I don't know what I was thinking trying to come here by myself."

Thena shakes her head; this is exactly the kind of thing that made her develop feelings for him in the first place. This man and his stupid sweetness. "Maybe this just isn't the type of shirt for you. Sometimes different brands will fit different, too."

"Why's it so difficult?" Gil bemoans as she sends him back into the changing room.

"I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid," she laments. She has her own troubles with clothes simply with a female body. "I did a lot of my clothes shopping online in Korea."

That and sometimes things wouldn't quite fit her in the bust, so she had to take up buying dresses and learning to live with a revealing neckline and just wearing a cardigan or sweater over them.

"Maybe I should just do that," Gil mutters as he emerges, all of his finds - and failures - piled up in his arms.

"We'll find you something," she assures him, taking his picks from him and leaving them in the bin to be sorted before returned to the shelves. She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow (just this once, she tells herself).

"What about you, Naekkeo?" he smiles at her.

This isn't the first time he's used some cute little pet name on her like it's nothing--like it's normal for them. She tells herself not to let it get to her every time. "What about me?"

"We're here," Gil states, gesturing to the store around them. "We should shop for stuff for you too."

"I don't need anything," Thena laughs at his eager face.

"But Thena," he pleads, as if he's asking for something for himself instead of trying to convince her to let him take her shopping.

"These might actually be a good choice for you," she muses as she feels the soft material of the thick-knit sweaters and cardigans. They'll stretch to accommodate those arms of his without them having to go two full sizes up from his usual.

"Huh," he notes as he takes one from her, slipping off his jacket and slipping the cardigan on in its place. "What do you think?"

Goddammit, it looks great on him. Despite the very mundane article of clothing, he makes it look borderline salacious with it unbuttoned around him, the sleeves pulled partially up his thick forearms.

Thena bites her tongue; he looks damn sexy, is what she thinks. "It looks nice."

Gil beams at her approval, proudly laying it over his arm as he continues to float next to her. "Maybe I should just be a cardigan guy."

Thena smiles, pawing through a few more stacks of sweaters and knits. "That's quite a shift from your usual attire."

"Well," Gil sneaks a look at her and slides their hands together. "I have to look the part if I'm gonna be a househusband here, right? Soft clothes and aprons and oven mitts?"

Thena just laughs, although she's already getting a little too use to thinking of Gil like that. She tries to tell herself not to, of course. They're not married--they're not together. She's protecting him by moving him here.

But whether they're together or not, his hand tightens around hers, and she lets it, smiling all through the rest of the store.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches. 

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now. 

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

<- prev | next ->

Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.” 

_

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

__

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

_

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

☆

☆

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[ihatebnha]

With the beauty stuff going on here- think Bakugo and Shoto (maybe Shinso?) would comfort their s/o in regards to not entering certain clothing stores? I can't go into a lot of them because all/the majority of their clothes are for skinny/petite women and I can't fit into it. Plus, with all the good looking girls who work in those stores I can't help but compare myself and see the trash I am. Sometimes I get physically sick if I walk into the stores because its so overwhelming. Sigh. Wish those boys would be a comfort, but they'd probably just be awkward or break up wif me. Especially explody boy.

Legend... the only thing that’s trash here is your garbage attitude! I wanna let you know that I’m on the tubbier side, too... so when you say you’re trash, you’re calling me trash, too... and I honestly don’t like that nor do I agree... (and trust me, I hate fitting rooms too... why do you think i only wear pajamas all the time?)

because the truth is...YOU’RE NOT! You just live in a world that favors conventionally attractive and skinny people over everyone else. Obviously it isn’t bad to be either of those things, but we all have a duty to work hard at rewiring our brains to reevaluate society’s sense of beauty (esp since its very eurocentric, too). 

it’s also funny you sent me this because I honestly believe that all the boys in bnha like chubby girls (but ofc they don’t discriminate)! im very genuine when i say that EVERYONE is their ideal type, and i could honestly talk for hours about how they’re too busy being heroes to give a crap about petty things such as looks and weight. 

the truth is, “real men” (and real partners, for that matter) don’t care if you’re heavy, have beauty marks, anything, so therefore... the bnha boys dont mind those things, either. 

plus lmfao... todo, bakugo, and shinso are all actually in my top list of chubby chasers soooo (although im biased and think every character is on that list tbh)... 

none of them would break up with you for your insecurities! They of all people understand what it’s like to be ashamed of things (as Bakugo faces feelings of inferiority, Shinso has his quirk, and Todo’s family is bananas), so they would only want to comfort you if you ever expressed your concerns. 

Not to mention, they all seem like the type to be in a relationship for the long haul... So if they’re already dating you, it means they’re in it FOR LIFE🤞🏻

Which is why, none of what you do could ever bother them... and as for comforting... 

I don’t think either Bakugo, Todo, or Shinso are really going to notice if you don’t want to or can’t go into certain clothing stores. They’re heroes (and boys for that matter💀) with a lot on their mind, so if you mention you don’t like shopping somewhere, they’re just going to assume that you either don’t feel like it or it’s not your style. 

Their heads don’t really connect your insecurities with your shopping preferences, simply because they assume you already know what you like to wear and where you like to shop.

In Shinso’s case, while I can see him picking up on some of your subtleties, such as avoiding certain stores and/or sections, he’s probably not really going to think it’s a serious issue or bring up the topic unless you initiate the conversation yourself, mostly because he (doesn’t want to be at the mall) assumes you already know that he likes your body and really doesn’t care what you wear. 

That being said, when you are in fitting rooms together, he gets pretty handsy even before you start getting frustrated by things. Definitely distracts you from doing anything by whistling at you or grabbing at your thighs and pulling you between his legs from where he sits on the tiny stool they’ve provided... Also probably puts in some effort beforehand too, helping you pick out things that he likes and are more likely to fit in the first place.  

Bakugo is pretty similar to this, as well. With his parents working in the design industry, he definitely has a good eye for sizing and can help you pick out the most accurate things for your body type. He’s actually really useful because you can hold up anything, and he’ll generally have a pretty good idea on whether the style will suit you or not, and if it’s in the right size. This makes trying things on a bit more bearable, as you honestly end up fitting everything you bring into the changing room. 

He’s also good to shop with because he’s probably not gonna let you go to any shitty clothing stores either... So wherever you end up going is probably gonna have better stuff that’s in every size, anyway (it’s literally like 2200 and people have quirks... you can’t tell me stores would have things for literally every shape). The nice thing about this too is that everything you end up getting is super comfortable for that exact reason. 

Definitely can stay pretty serious in the dressing rooms... but you have to be careful because the moment you guys get home he’s gonna be horn-nee. 

Todoroki, on the other side of all of this, is literally motherfucking useless. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be comforting, it’s just he really just doesn’t put the puzzle pieces of your insecurity together AND thinks you look good in everything, regardless... so even if you tried to explain why you hate shopping, he’s just like “but everyone has things they don’t fit?” 

HOWEVER..... the redeeming quality about him is.... HE IS RICH!!! And probably grew up with a tailor, and/or at least a family stylist, so once you’re in with him, he just adds you onto the bill for that, too. Say goodbye shopping, hello to having clothing that fits you shipped right to your door... (and Todo just loves staring at you while you get measured for outfits). 

SO.... sorry for my earlier harshness... it’s just because I love and care about you sooooo much!! as well as understand what it’s like to feel like a freak in forever 21... 

ANYWAY... here’s just some little things I wanted to include, too! 

-

I used to think that Bakugo wouldn’t have a preference for thick girls, but then I saw this tik tok that was like, “my attractive friends always ask me where all the hot and fit boys are.... in these guts bitch” and my perspective changed entirely... I just know a beefy boy like him who has a mean mommy LOVES curves... like you can’t tell me he doesn’t see your belly and absolutely melts... like that shit is straight FAXXXXXXXXXXX no printer... (i also saw a tik tok today that was like, “would you fuck me if i was skinny? and the person said “i would fuck you right now.” and tbh that’s big baku energy LOL) 

Todoroki also definitely gives me vibes where if you’re like, “but i look ugly in ____,” he’s just like, “doesn’t matter, it’s you.” AND YES TBH i cried

AND shinso... god tbh shinso is the guy that all your friends are jealous of bc he’s the one who’s like, “I like my women with meat on them” because he doesn’t believe in skinny culture or diets... he wants you chubby bc chubby just kinda looks more correct.... tbh king shit

[getitinbusan]

I've Got A Coupon (18+) 

Part 6 

Taehyung: Visit to the Toy Store 

 Warnings: 18+ consensual sexual poly relationships. Always swearing, Safe sex is implied. Don't read smut if you can't handle the 🍆💦

Words: 1340

Valentine’s Day, what do you give 7 men who already have everything?

Sitting down, you create a series of Love Coupons and place them in a bowl…

Erotic movie night

Massage with a happy ending

lap dance

Voyeur, look but don’t touch!

Naked Chef, dining al fresco

Trip to the sex shop

Location of your choice!

Calling them to the kitchen they each take a turn picking their present.

Series Masterlist

4:20 pm.

Tae: I swear if you're a minute late I'm going to be so mad. 

Y/N: Listen bitch, I'm ahead of schedule and outside your door. Why aren't you answering? 

Tae: I'm already IN the car, motors running, LETS GO!!

"Impatient much?"  he was already pulling away before you'd had a chance to do up your seatbelt.

"Y/N I don't think you know how excited I am"

"Ah, I think I do. You sent me like 10 messages yesterday." 

"I needed a plan! We have such a limited time to try so many things." 

Walking into the store he was like a kid in a candy shop. "So what are we after Tae? Are we looking for you or for me?" 

"I think we should just buy a bunch of stuff and see what we like best." 

He held up a large rabbit vibrator and smiled, "You should get this for when you miss me." 

You linked your arm through his and whispered, "I already have one. It's nice and all but you're bigger." 

His bashful boxy smile took over his face with pride. "So if the cock parts covered what about your clit? I read some good reviews about suckers?" He grabbed a pretty rose gold one from the shelf.

"I've never used one but I'm down for it." He threw it in the basket. 

"What about you? There's  Stokers...prostate massagers...a cock cage?" 

"Yes. Put them in the cart." 

"It's a good thing you're rich."

His face suddenly lit up. "What do you think about those?" he pointed. 

Following his finger you looked towards the bondage section. "For real?" 

He pulled down a pretty little black whip and tapped it into his palm, "Yes?" he cocked a brow mischievously. 

"Then hell yes."

Going your separate ways you each went around picking things for the other.

You stood at the lube table when you felt him behind you. His fingers made their way under your skirt pushing your panties aside.

"From the feel of things down here you wont need any of that. Hold still." 

You felt a push at your opening, he was sliding something inside you. "Tae, you can't just," it began to vibrate. 

"I can't just what? Because I think I can, and just did."

It stopped. Turning to look at him he held up a little remote so you could see it. "Sorry, I'm on a time limit and there's pleasure to be had." 

Finally making your way to the checkout the cashier eyed you both up and down. "Looks like a fun party." 

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Just a typical Sunday afternoon." 

Almost at the end, bags full, he threw the last empty box on the counter. 

"Oh, sorry sir this box is empty."

He glanced at you and winked. "Sometimes she just can't wait, it's embarrassing honestly." 

You looked at the cashier and shrugged, "He just doesn't understand how horribly inadequate he is."  

Grabbing his credit card she rolled her eyes. 

Laughing all the way to the car you were enjoying how relaxed Taehyung was. "You know, despite being a cocky shit you're pretty cute."

“Don’t forget sexy.” The vibrator came to life inside you, and agian at every red light on the way home. "I want you all worked up for me by the time we get back. Consider this foreplay." 

When you got back to his room you'd managed to clock in at 52 minutes. "We've got an hour and a half."

You tore your clothes off and dumped the bags all over the bed. "What do you want me to use?" 

He picked up the sucker, "This one. I've seen videos of girls squirting really hard with them. What do you want to use on me?" 

"I want that Prostate massager in your ass when you fuck me." 

"Excellent choice! Close your eyes and pick a lube." 

You ran a stream of lube up the massager. "Spread em" 

He bent over so you could insert the toy. His lack of questions and resistance clued you in to the fact that he was no stranger to ass play. "How's that, does it feel good?" 

His cock was twitching, answering yes, and it was too irresistible to keep your mouth off for another second.

Gripping his enormous length you wrapped your lips around him. He was so hard, an hour's worth of excitement built up like a pressure cooker ready to blow. He moaned, "So good." 

"You'd better not cum yet." 

"I don't know how long I can hold out. You'd better give me that pussy." 

On your hands and knees you backed yourself towards him. He slowly pulled out the vibrating egg and tossed it beside the bed. Lubing up the rim of the Satisfier he passed it to you. "Put it on your clit for me."

Pressing the button it came to life, little pulses of vibration surrounding your bud. "Oh fuck," you cried out. 

"Baby your pussy is already clenching you should see it. This is so hot." He lined himself up and slowly pushed into you with a moan. 

The sucker was too powerful, you kept taking it away when you got to close, edging yourself with it over and over. 

"Don't you want to cum?"

"No, I want more." 

"I was hoping you'd say that." 

He reached around your neck and buckled the leather collar. "Is that okay? It's not too tight?"

He hooked the leash on, "God you look so pretty like this. Can I take some pictures?" 

You could see the flash from the camera going off. He'd pause fucking you to take shots when his dick was stuffing you just right. Wrapping the leash around his hand he tugged gently pulling your head back instructing you to look at the lens. "I want your little pussy to squirt for me, can you do that?"  I want pictures of it so I can masturbate with that stroker later." 

Grabbing the tiny riding crop he flicked it across your ass cheek. Just a sting, enough to heighten all the other sensations. "Do you think you can take a plug?" 

All you could muster was a small "please." You hadn't reached your climax but the pleasure and stimulation were overwhelming your senses. 

His finger ran around the ring of muscle, "Medium I think." The cold metal made you recoil. His large hand grabbed your hip, fingers digging in holding you firm as he pushed it slowly into you. "

You're such a good little girl, taking it all." 

He was having fun caressing your ass cheek and praising you then whipping you with the crop all while dragging his excruciatingly large cock in and out. 

"I'm so close."

He yanked the leash. "I need you to put the sucker back on your clit. Behave for me, put it on high and don't take it off until this bed is soaked." 

You did as you were told. Whimpers lingered in the air as the Satisfier sucked the orgasm from your clit. Taehyung cried out as you clenched around him milking him for his load. Unable to hold it in any longer you signaled him with constant cries of "yes, yes," that he should have his camera ready. As the flashes went off a steady spray of liquid covered his bed. 

You both collapsed in a fit of giggles. "Wow." 

"Yeah." you struggled to catch your breath. 

"Come over here, the beds not wet on this part." Holding you against him for a few minutes you almost fell asleep. 

Jarred back to reality the alarm on your phone went off. "That sucks," he frowned. "I can't believe we didn't even get to use half the toys we bought." 

You pulled your clothes back on. "After what we just did, I'm pretty sure I'll be back." You gave him a big kiss and smiled, "Really soon." 

Part 7: Jungkook - Dirty Movie

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

Hi! Can I get a ship? I'm an INFP, straight girl with social anxiety. I listen to music all the time. (mostly rock) I never leave the house without my earphones. I enjoy movie nights, reading books (romance and mystery are my favourite genres), playing videogames, goofing around with my friends. My friends would describe me as kind, helpful and loyal. I'm really into photography. I wanted to be a photographer as a kid, but it's just a hobby nowadays. I'm a hopeless romantic and a night owl. It takes time for me to open up to people, but once I'm there I can be pretty talkative. I'm 5'8" tall, I have half long brown hair, dark brown eyes and I wear glasses. If I have to describe my style it would be somewhat 80s grunge. Thank you!

(tw: swearing and eating)

I ship you with Scott Summers!

You never got along very well with Scott Summers.

He always came across as a bit of a preppy asshole. Not that his preppy-ness was necessarily correlated to his asshole-ness, but it did seem to enhance it.

You may think that not getting along perfectly with some random boy who happened to live in the (large) building you live in is not much of a problem, but you are incorrect.

When your best friend (and dorm-mate) of ten years, Jean, is on a so-called "superhero team" with and is good friends with said boy, it is not exactly easy to avoid him.

Since Jean's biological family was not around, she made her own.

The first member of her so-called found family was you, who arrived just a day before she did. When she first entered your dorm, you were adjusting all of your newly unpacked trinkets. You were both young enough to immediately become friends, no questions asked, and your friendship stuck. You two tended to keep to yourselves and each other, until you two were older.

When Jean was invited to join the X-Men with some of her friends, you couldn’t have been prouder. The problem was that when you met this other part of her found family, it did not go well. None of you clicked whenever in the same room, and Scott immediately made fun of you the moment he met you. You ultimately decided to avoid her other friends, but be supportive of them. Not because you couldn’t handle Scott, but because you didn’t want to put Jean in a position where she had to choose between you and them. Overall, this just made Jean desperately want you and her other friends to get along.

"Come on, just sneak out with us this one time!" Jean was sitting on the edge of your bed, making puppy dog eyes at you and clasping her hands together.

She always tried to convince you to hang out with her friend group. Even if that meant, in this case, convincing you to break (very reasonable) rules with them.

"No. Absolutely not. Jubilee is going to try to 'catch me a man', and Scott's going to try to be funny but just end up making fun of me. Besides, why would I break school rules and steal a car for a trip to the mall?"

"Because you haven't seen Empire Strikes Back yet, and I bought you a ticket for 1:00 PM today."

"Shit. You're evil, you know that? This is unfair. You know me too well."

Jean beamed at you. "Thank you, I try. Now, get dressed, you're going to love this."

"I am dressed, and you can’t make demands. I’m the one being convinced here!"

"I will not be pestered by Jubilee's pleas to let her give you a makeover! Just throw on jeans instead of your sweatpants or something! Now chop, chop! We're leaving in 10 minutes!"

"I'm sorry, 10 minutes?"

"I knew if you had more than 15, you would change your mind. Meet me by the front door when you're ready to go!"

After Jean left your shared room, you threw on some different clothes and hastily grabbed everything you needed to go. With your sneakers in your hands, you ran into the school's kitchen and shoved a granola bar in your mouth. As you were hopping, trying to force your shoes on your feet, someone spoke from behind you.

"Well, you look elegant as ever."

You froze, squinted your eyes, and clenched your jaw. Well, as much as you could with the previously mentioned granola bar in your mouth.

Scott Summers.

You swallowed and turned around, plastering on a smile in preparation to respond to his sarcasm.

"Well, you know me, unwaveringly ethereal."

Once you finished your attempt to keep the peace, your grin dropped off your face and you went to tie on your shoes, occasionally having to push your glasses back up your nose as you did so.

Jean then started talking to you while making her way into the kitchen.

"Come on, we need to go before Charles's class ends- well, well, well, look at you two!" she spoke in a sing-song tone at the end.

"Trust me, there's no 'you two' here." Scott hissed at her. Hissed! The audacity, would it be so terrible for him to be theoretical friends with you?

"Calm down, I just mean that I'm glad you two are talking," Jean said. "But we need to go. Like- now."

Jean then grabbed you by the arm and started to pull you out of the room, wiggling her eyebrows at Scott on the way out. Scott got up to trail behind you two, if he could glare at people with the glasses he wore, then he would have been glaring at her.

You elbowed Jean in the side and whisper shouted at her.

"What was that? What was the purpose of the eyebrow wiggle?"

"What eyebrow wiggle? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a menace to society, you know that?"

"I am aware that you don't actually think I'm a menace, but I appreciate the compliment." She leaned down and messed up your hair. "Now let's move it!"

When you got to the minivan you were all "borrowing" from Charles, most everyone was already there. Kurt, Jubilee, and Peter took the back seats, and Ororo was sitting in the driver's seat.

You walked to sit shotgun, but Jean sped up to beat you to the seat.

Suspicious.

Squinting at her, you went to sit in the middle row, where Scott also made to sit.

It was silent for the first minute of the drive until Jubilee tried to strike up a conversation.

"So! Y/N, I'm so glad you decided to hang out with us! I love your outfit. Ooh! Peter, hand me my bag! I have a scrunchie that will match perfectly."

Peter looked at her with mock disbelief. "Yeah. dude, make me reach behind my seat and into the trunk of the car."

Kurt clearly did not want to be part of this conflict.

Jubilee smiled sweetly at Peter. "Shut up and grab me my bag, please?"

Peter sighed half-sarcastically. "Yes ma'am."

Well, Jean's friends were just as you remember (aka slightly crazy).

You heard Jean's voice in your mind "If you don't wear that scrunchie it will genuinely hurt Jubilee's feelings, and I will never forgive you."

You looked at her through the mirror and raised your eyebrows.

Jubilee's voice took back your attention. "Here it is! Scotty, I can't reach. Can you hand this to her?"

Scott visibly winced at the nickname "Scotty" but handed you the scrunchie anyway. After trying to hide your amusement at the use of "Scotty", you attempted to put your hair up with the scrunchie, and you saw Jean smile. You were determined to make friends with these people for Jean.

"Thanks, Jubilee," You smiled at her. "So, how do I look?"

Scott chimed in immediately. "Like you're twelve."

"Ok, shut up Scott. You look cool, Y/N." Ororo gave you a thumbs up from the front seat. They were all clearly told to make friends with you by Jean in the same way you were. Well... told or threatened. Who's to say.

The car ride was awkward, to say the least. When you finally arrived at the mall and exited the car, you felt like you could finally breathe. You spoke first while you were all walking into the mall.

"So, how are we planning on killing time before Empire?"

"Well, Jubilee wanted to pick up some more eyeshadow with me, and Peter, Kurt, and Ororo are probably going to buy even more colored leather jackets," Jean said.

"Where does that leave me and your wallflower?" Scott asked Jean. You turned to look at him, attempting to make your lack of amusement clear. "What?" He shrugged, "It's true!"

"Ok, first of all, she's not actually that shy, you're just mean. Second of all, I was hoping you two could go into the book shop together until we're done."

Your eyes widened as you turned to Jean, silently begging her not to leave you and Scott alone.

"What? Why are you looking at me like I'm crazy? Maybe I thought you would try to get along because you both love me and I want you to be friends!"

Scott responded first. "You're totally guilt-tripping us right now."

"Yes!" Jean responded. "Yes I am, and you better be feeling guilty. Now, we're all going inside, and you are going into that bookstore together, you are going to bond over your cheesy dreams about falling in love, and, Scott, you are going to be kind! Or I will be very upset!"

You and Scott looked at each other (slightly afraid) before you turned to Jean and nodded your head at her.

"Ok. Let's go, Scott." You looked at him and he nodded at you both of you then started to head to the bookstore.

In the door of the shop, you glanced at him awkwardly. "So... is there a specific section you want to visit? Or-"

"Uh, I usually just... wander." He was bouncing on his heels.

"Oh! Ok, uh... where you lead I will follow!"

He spun around and started to walk aimlessly, actually trying to make conversation.

"So- you take photos?"

"...How did you know that?"

"I've seen you. That sounds creepy, I just mean that I saw you with a camera once when you walked Jean to training. It seemed nice. Only a dumbass would own a nice camera and not use it."

"How kind of you to not see me as a dumbass," you mumbled as you ran your hand across the book binds. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"Not really to be honest. Well, actually- I like... cars."

"...Cars. Huh. Elaborate."

"My brother, his name is Alex, taught me how to fix up cars when I was younger. Ooh- recently we found this beautiful 1962 AMC Rambler- I mean, it was basically a pile of garbage, but we're fixing it up."

"What's a Rambler?"

"W- 'What's a Rambler?'" He looked at you like you were speaking another language. "A 1962 AMC Rambler is only the car of my dreams!"

"The 'car of your dreams'?"

"Uh, yeah. What- do you not have a dream car?"

You laughed at him, "No? I don’t know that much about cars."

"You don’t have to know shit about cars to have a dream car! Come on, you don't have any car you would want to drive?"

"A school bus."

"...What do you mean."

"I mean- I bet I could live in a school bus. It's big, has a lot of windows, it's yellow." Scott was surprisingly easy to talk to.

"A school bus. Huh."

"I thought of that on the spot, it's not a long-term dream of mine."

"No, I see the appeal. I do think it's weird that you listed it being yellow as one of its positive attributes though."

"Holy shit. Holy shit!"

"What? What's the problem?"

You grabbed the book you spotted and held it out to him with your arms fully outstretched, it almost hit his nose. "Do you know what this is?"

Scott's hands appeared at the top of the book, and he pushed it down so you could see his confused expression. "A... book?"

"Very funny, Scotty, but no this is not just a book. This is a sequel."

He crossed his arms across his chest. "... 'Scotty'? I'm gonna kill Lee."

"Who's Lee?"

"Jubilee."

"If you can call her 'Lee' why can’t she call you 'Scotty'?"

"Because 'Scotty' makes me sound like I'm twelve!"

"Well, according to you, this scrunchie makes me look twelve. So I guess we're even, Scotty."

"I see why you and Jean are friends. You’re both evil."

"I called her evil not 10 minutes ago! Look at us, 'bonding' and all."

"Speaking of a 10 minutes ago, and that whole 'twelve' thing, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"Sorry for calling you twelve... and a wallflower. You seem... neat."

"Thanks... I think."

"Neat is a good thing."

"I'm kinda messy actually."

"I meant neat as in like- cool. Plus, you’re the first friend-ish person I've had that also wears glasses!"

You smiled at each other for a moment.

This was amusing.

He was amusing.

Unfortunately, someone popped the bubble encasing you and Scott. "Wow, 'friendish'? That's an upgrade from them low-key hating each other."

You whipped your head around to see Peter and Jean standing on the other side of the aisle, clearly having been observing and talking about you.

Scott spoke first. "How long have you two been standing there?"

"Long enough," Jean smiled. "You two get along."

"...So?" Scott asked.

"So, about an hour ago that seemed completely impossible."

An hour? That couldn’t be possible. "Wait, what time is it?"

Jean responded. "12:45, you’ve sure been chatting for a long time."

Scott cleared his throat and turned to you, "So, uh, you should buy that book, and then we should head to the movie theater room thingie."

You looked back at him. "Yeah! Ok, so... yeah."

After you and Scott walked away, Peter leaned over to whisper to Jean. "Well, that was a long glance. We've really gotta lock 'em in a closet together or something."

Jean shoved Peter, and you all went about your mall trip as you did before, except that now you might have a new friend... ish.

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 7 || Simplicity in Normalcy

Warnings: Swearing.

Words: 3700+

Previous || Next

~7~

Iris tried to support the basket that was draped over one of her arms; the weight of her groceries was making her wish that she had decided to get a cart that she could push instead. Trying to take some of the weight off, she leaned the basket against her hip as she looked at the display of crackers. A snack of cheese and crackers was on her list of cravings at the moment, and she was really hoping to get home quickly. The weather report was calling for thunderstorms and Iris did not want to worry about running home through a downpour while hauling bags of food.

 Finally selecting a slightly pricy brand of vegetable crackers, Iris turned to head further down the aisle for the coffee and tea section—she was so stocked up on tea that she was desperate to get something different and Barry told her he liked sweet coffee so she was planning to get some just in case he spent the night again.

The thought of having him over caused a blush to rise to her cheeks, so Iris hurried down to the coffee section and looked over the shelves to try and find the tin of coffee that she had bought in the past. A huffing sigh passed her lips when she noticed that it had been raised up to the top two shelves, making it impossible for her to reach even when on her tip toes.

 Taking a step back for a better reading on the height difference, she only ended with another sigh. It was probably just out of reach of her fingers if she stretched.

 “Damn.”

 “You look like you could use a hand, Sweetie.”

 Gasping in surprise and turning quickly, Iris nearly dropped her basket as the words that were across her back were spoken in a deep, accented voice—was that a Southern accent?—that was shockingly familiar. A hand darted out to catch the basket as it slipped precariously on her arm, nearly losing some of its contents. Iris’s attention lifted to the familiar face of her soulmate, but one brief glance confirmed her assumption that this was not Barry.

 A pair of slightly worn black jeans and a soft looking blue shirt was exposed through an open leather jacket, startling Iris into leaning back slightly. Having the image of Barry still quite fresh in her mind, she hadn’t really been prepared for the appearance of another personality. This one was more casual, less focused on fashionable clothing while still looking extremely attractive in what he was wearing.

 “Wow, hello,” Iris blurted out before she could think of her words. Her cheeks immediately grew hot as she realized what had come out of her mouth, while the man before her laughed heartily, the laugh lines on his face more prominent than they had been with Barry. Iris immediately pushed the thought of Barry aside, feeling bad that she was thinking of him while another soulmate was standing in front of her now.

 “Hello to you, too, little one. So, need a hand?” he motioned to the coffee tin that she had been stretched for a minute ago, causing Iris’s eyes to finally flick away from him as she glanced back to the shelves.

 “Oh…yes, please.” Ducking her head in embarrassment, the man deeply chuckled before he stepped up beside her and easily grabbed the tin and offered it to her slowly, as though he didn’t want to startle her.

 “Iris,” he began carefully, taking the encounter very slowly. Did she look like a frightened animal? Those whiskey eyes finally looked up at him, the soft rose in her usually pale cheeks making his smile grow. “I believe I have you at a disadvantage. My name’s Luke,” he introduced, holding his hand out to her. Iris dropped the tin into her basket and reached out to shake his hand as a timid smile touched her lips.

 “Nice to meet you, Luke.”

 “That looks heavy,” he commented as he motioned to the basket. “Give it here, Sweetie. Barry’ll have my hide if I make you carry that.” Surprise must have shown on her face, because another laugh sounded from him as he gently extracted the basket from her hold. “He makes sure we all stay in line, and he’s absolutely smitten with you.”

 He must have enjoyed watching Iris blush because he was on a roll at this point. “Well, do I need to bring up that you were following me or is this a coincidence?” Iris retorted, courage in her words showing more confidence than she actually felt.

 Luke, however, seemed greatly amused with her comment and the smile on his face grew. “Rest assured, Sweetie, this is a complete coincidence.” Luke motioned behind, turning the small woman’s attention over to where there was a shopping cart piled with food. “I haven’t done the groceries for a while, so I was forced out today.”

 Amusement flittered across Iris’s face as she took stock of the cart. There was such a mixture of things that it was easy to tell it was for many different people’s preferences. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy,” she commented offhand, noticing the amount of chocolate and sugary goods that were piled at the foot of the cart.

 Luke rubbed the back of his buzzed head bashfully as he nodded in agreement. “I wasn’t given a list, so I kinda just grabbed everything that I’ve seen in the place before. Hedwig’s gunna be running around like a lunatic, though, so Patricia’s gunna kill me when she finds out I bought all this.” The introduction of two new names made Iris look back at him with shining eyes, filled with curiosity.

 “Hedwig and Patricia?” she repeated. The way he spoke about them made Iris all the more curious about the many different personalities within this body. Hedwig sounded like he was much younger than Barry or Luke, and the fact that Patricia was distinctly female was another interesting thought.

 “Yea, they’re quite the pair. You’ll understand when you meet them,” he dodged, looking mildly worried that he had said more than he should. “So, are we finished or do I need to rescue anything else from top shelves for you?” he teased instead, walking them over to the cart that he had stocked full.

 “Nope, coffee was the last thing on my list,” she answered easily. She technically needed more, but she never bought too much at once since she always carried it home. “What about you? As someone as small as me, I can make it easier to get things from the bottom shelf.”

 “Aren’t you clever today? I was just gunna make a stop in the cereal aisle, then I’m off.” Placing her basket of food in the top section of the cart, Luke began to push it as Iris stuttered behind him. Was he actually holding her groceries hostage? “You did offer your help. For all I know, Hedwig’s cereal is on the bottom shelf!”

 “You’re terrible,” she stuttered, hurrying to catch up to him.

 Admittedly, Iris had researched Dissociative Identity Disorder after she had found Dr. Fletcher’s articles and essays on the topic. However, she hadn’t been sure what to expect when it came down to actually meeting someone who had many identities for one body; especially now that she knew for certain that Kevin’s body housed men, woman and possibly children. Barry and Luke were already drastically different, so it made her a mix of excited and nervous to meet the other soulmates that she was sure was ten-fold what normal people felt when meeting their soulmates.

 This was one face, twenty-three different ways.

 The twenty-forth mark hadn’t developed any further since it first appeared, stuck as a blurry one-word mark that looked like a black smudge beneath her collarbone. While thinking of the mark, Iris’s hand came to rub over the spot subconsciously.

 “Hey, you alright?”

 Luke’s sudden question drew Iris from her thoughts as she looked up at the concerned blue eyes that were level with hers. She’d stopped walking mid-aisle and was staring into space, prompting Luke to turn around and bend in front of her so they were the same height. “Yea, sorry,” she mumbled out while dropping her hand from the mark. “Just got lost in my thoughts for a second; I used to worry that I was…broken, or there was some kind of mistake with my marks and I would never actually meet any of my soulmates. Now, in little more than a week, I’ve met two of you and learned the truth of why I have so many. It’s very…”

 “Overwhelming?” Luke supplied with a soft look of understanding in his eyes; seeing that look relieved the tension that had built in Iris as her thoughts progressed.

 “Yea,” she breathed.  “But I am happy, so that definitely makes it worth it.”

 Luke’s expression immediately brightened before he was reaching for Iris’s hand, tugging her after him as he made for the cereal aisle. Iris went silently this time, her expression growing soft as Luke began to rant about how much he hated when he was the one who had to go and get groceries. She listened closely the entire time, wanting to absorb all of the information that she could about the alters.

 “And Barry, love the guy, but he is so picky,” he groaned, snatching box of Lucky Charms—even though it was on the bottom shelf and he had to bend to get it. Iris was half surprised that he hadn’t followed through and made her get anything that was lower on the shelves.

 “He didn’t seem picky when I was with him,” she admitted, “But I’m not the one who’s lived with him so long,” she added a moment later, absentmindedly adjusting some of the items on the shelves near her—something she’d picked up from all of her years of retail.

 “Lucky you,” Luke retorted with a snort, glancing up and down the aisle as though to make sure that he wasn’t forgetting anything.

 “What about you? If I asked Barry, would he say you were picky?” Iris asked in return, pulling at her sleeves as she glanced back to him. With Barry, she had allowed herself to relax when it came to her marks, but that was in her home. Now, in an open place, it was very different. She wasn’t wearing gloves, so it made things very different about her comfort level and who was looking at the mark on the back of her hand.

 Even if people thought it was her only one, there were still unmarked out there who would be violent or rude toward those with marks.

 Luke didn’t seem to notice the movements, beginning to push the cart—and her basket—toward the cash registers. “Oh, I’ll eat anything,” he admitted with a broad grin. “Patricia’s happy about that, at least when it’s good food; isn’t always happy that I’ll go for just about any junk food out there.”

 “I don’t blame her,” Iris admitted. “Please tell me you don’t eat fast-food.”

 Turning to look at him with a slightly desperate look in her eyes, Luke opened his mouth as though to deny it, but then snapped his jaw shut and looked away sheepishly. Iris’s eyebrow quirked up as she paused at the end of the aisle, while stepping aside as an older woman squeezed past them to get into the cereal section.

 “Only sometimes,” he finally admitted quietly, peaking at her from the corner of his eye.

 “Mhm,” Iris hummed in understanding, though still sounding doubtful. “Barry might be picky but you’re junky,” she blamed, pointing at him while turning the corner to continue on without him. Luke’s jaw dropped as she walked away, somehow not having expected her to actually tease him. As someone who had run off when Barry first met her, he hadn’t thought she would be so comfortable with the rest of them right off the bat.

 Following after her, he fought a smile as he saw a flash of her true colours. She was definitely a quiet person and much more timid than either him or Barry, but there was a bold streak within her that he definitely wanted to see more often.

 Glancing down at the basket of her things that was still sitting at the front of his cart, Luke wondered if that was really enough for her. She’d told Barry that she didn’t have any food left in her apartment, and this sure as hell didn’t seem like enough to fill a kitchen. Knowing as little about her as he did, he could definitely say she was a practical person, so she was probably only getting enough to get by that she could manage to carry.

 He barely knew her, she was very new to having people to rely on, so he wouldn’t say anything about her meager shopping. There was a specific way she was used to doing things. Barry had said that she may seem underweight, but she was actually just really skinny; her arm was rather muscular beneath the skin. Looking at her, he found it somewhat hard to believe, but Barry wasn’t known to lie. Sometimes, he was brutally honest.

 When he turned the corner to find Iris, she was standing in front of a display of flowers that were already prepared in individual bouquets. Her fingers traced over the petals of one, feeling the silky texture as she looked over the pale violet of the bloom. He didn’t even know what the flower was, looked like some kind of daisy, but it brought a smile to Iris’s lips as she took in the details and feel of the delicate plant.

 “Any chance your favourite flower is an Iris?” he asked as he came up behind her, leaning over her shoulder to see the flower arrangement better.

 The woman in question laughed, releasing the bloom from between her fingers. “No, I think those flowers look rather strange, if I’m being honest. I used to like lilies most when I was younger, but then I successfully grew marigolds and they kinda got a special place in my heart.”

 “Aw, still room for the rest of us, I hope,” he teased, leaning on the handle of the cart.

 Iris’s cheeks flushed at the question while she looked back at him over her shoulder; even leaning as he was he still had a couple of inches on her. “No one else is so close to me,” she answered softly, looking up at him with those whiskey eyes. It damn near melted his heart. “I was made your soulmate for a reason. Maybe that’s why my heart’s been kept empty for so long; to provide more room for more people in my future.”

 Luke’s expression softened as he just watched her for a moment. There wasn’t heartbreak or sadness in her expression as she spoke of her lack of family, or love in her life, but it still pained him to know that she’d been alone for so long. Barry had chosen not to share all that he knew with everyone, saying that it was her story to tell. And in time, when she met them, she would tell them, too. So, Luke only knew basics, but it was easy to know that someone with her timidity and fear had been through hell. Abused by parents, as Fletcher had suspected, was something they were aware could leave serious damage behind.

 Reaching out for her, Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew in her against his chest. Iris looked surprised at the suddenness of the action, her head tipped back to look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, I promise your heart will never be empty again.”

 Her somber expression faded with a smile as she leaned into him just slightly, accepting his embrace. “I’m coming to understand that truth.”

 Giving her another tight squeeze, pulling her in close to his chest as her tiny form nearly disappeared into his leather jacket. “So, let’s go check out,” he offered instead, not one to stick to serious topics if he could help it.

 Nodding in agreement, Iris stepped reluctantly away from him.

 Luke and Barry may have shared a body, but they definitely were different people. Even their smell was different, and she knew that it wasn’t because of differing brands of cologne. Barry had smelled clean, like crisp clothing and a fresh shower. Luke had more of a musky smell to him, like leather and wood-smoke. It was an interesting comparison, yet it suited their personalities perfectly as well.

 Luke didn’t let her wonder too far away from him, instead he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her in closer to his side as he pushed the cart with one hand. Even though a blush warmed Iris’s cheeks, she was relieved to be near. Being with to a soulmate was the greatest comfort she could ever have; that anyone could have.

 “You stay close to me, Sweetie—you’re so tiny someone could carry you away from me.” Somehow, Iris wasn’t surprised that he combined a tease with a protective action and statement. Even having only been around him for a few minutes, the backwards complement/tease was right up his alley.

 “I haven’t blown away by wind yet, so I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Iris teased back. The laugh that she received in response warmed her heart and had a smile blooming across her face.

 Luke smirked down at her and squeezed her shoulders as he parroted, “Yet.”

 “Oh, shush you,” she laughed, nudging his side with her elbow as she turned her attention ahead of them to see which of the check-out lanes was free, or almost free. “Come on, so I can have my groceries back.”

 “I dunno, those crackers are calling to me, I might have to-”

 Before he could even grab them from the basket, Iris’s small hand snapped up and slapped the back of his with surprising force. He jerked back and stopped walking as he looked down at the small woman in shock—the back of his hand actually stung slightly with the suddenness of her slap, and the force behind it. Her cheeks were still flushed but there was a faint upturn to her lips that made her look like she was smirking coyly.

 “No touching my crackers.”

 “Yes, Ma’am.”

 Luke was definitely looking forward to knowing Iris better over time; and if how relaxed Barry had been when he’d returned the night before had been any indication, she was going to be good for all of them. Her judgement of his food already reminded him of Patricia, but much less…scary. Even though her eyes held a haunting past in them, he was sure that they were all going to make one big weird, perfect family. Hedwig was already spending most of his time out of the light raving about her, but they all knew that he wouldn’t meet her until she was comfortable enough to come to their home—body of a man or not, they would never allow a nine-year-old boy out on his own. Regardless of how badly he wanted to meet Iris.

 “Although, I may have to hold your groceries hostage a little while longer,” Luke continued a moment later, pulling himself back to reality as he snatched Iris’s basket before she could.

 “What?” the small woman stuttered in surprise; she had not been expecting him to continue the whole charade now that they were checking out.

 “Until I have safely walked you home, I will not let you have your groceries.”

 Iris frowned faintly at him. “I can’t let you do that, Luke. You have a ton of things yourself, and I’m just down the block. I’ve done this a million times before.” Her eyes scanned over the cart, knowing that Luke was going to have several more bags than her and as strong as he seemed, she didn’t want to cause any trouble for the man.

 “Well, good thing I was planning on calling a cab—and Barry spilled the beans, I know that your place is near that little café that Jade loves, which means you’re on my way home. So, we’ll take a cab and both of us are saved from that.” As he finished speaking, he pointed to the front window of the store. Iris followed the direction of his finger and gasped at the sight of the absolute downpour that was happening outside. The few people out there had umbrellas or bags over their heads and they were madly rushing for the nearest cover. It was enough that she nearly missed his mention of another name. Jade.

 “Oh, no,” she grumbled, already dreading the simple thought of walking through that.

 “By that tone, I’m guessing I win,” Luke whispered dramatically, bent forward so that he was right next to her ear. Iris sighed while her shoulders dropped, defeated. “Ha! Victory!” he called, celebrating.

 Iris couldn’t help but to laugh at his antics, shaking her head while she moved forward to place a divider on the cashier’s belt, then reach out for her basket with a strict, no nonsense look that was usually reserved for rowdy children that were brought into her store. Luke grinned somewhat sheepishly and finally returned her basket so that she could empty it out onto the belt, placing another divider to separate their things.

 The simple, everyday routine allowed them both to relax after the initial excitement of meeting. Luke had nearly fled the aisle when he’d first seen her, having thought that there was no possible way that it could really be her. He’d never had such amazing luck before, but it seemed that it was finally his time because she’d been just as Barry had told them.

 The mark on the back of her hand, and the trace of another on her wrist like Fletcher and Barry had explained, just confirmed everything.

 Iris, on the other hand, was already reeling from having spent time with one soulmate, who even slept over at her apartment, and now she was meeting another. It almost made her dizzy, especially since they wore the same face but had such differing styles and personalities. It made her wonder if it would get easier with each of the identities, or if she would always feel that strange mix of familiarity and nervousness that boiled over into timid excitement when she met them.

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[thatgirlwritingficsatnight]

Odi et Amo I

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and  accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5582

A/N: Hi this is my first fanfic ever, and so there are few things I have to say before you hopefully enjoy reading it. 1. English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors. I’m sorry, perhaps in the future there will be someone to proofread my works. 2. I’m terribly sorry for my interpunction :( for some reason they don’t teach it here  and so it may be terrible. I am reading about it more but it’s not easy for me as I haven’t practiced enough. I’m really sorry if it’s awkward. 3. This was supposed to be long oneshot, but I was told not all people enjoy long reads on tumblr like I do, so I decided to make a miniseries out of it. Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you want me to write some scenarios, or post more of my works (i have a lot of them in the depths of my drive lol). Love, thatgirlwritingficsatnight.

***

You sat in spacious sofa in your old apartment in Korea. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked through the headlines.

"The black sheep of Korean show biz comes back after four years in USA"

"Whose heart will she eat now? National heartbreaker came back to Korea"

"Go back to USA you wh*re! - internet went wild over L/N Y/N"

"L/N Y/N comes back in outrageous style"

Most of them were a summary or perhaps a reminder for k-netizens why they should hate you; it's because you dated who you wanted to and for how long you wanted to, it's because this one time in the talk show you told off male host when he kept asking about your private life and because the other time you told another one to stop giving you all the questions about clothes and make up while your male co-star got to answer some deep questions about character development and that's to name the few reasons that came instantly to your mind. Of course some articles had to focus on your airport fashion too. The conservative Korean society had a problem with your bra, or rather a lack of thereof under your designer t-shirt. You left out an irritated groan as you scrolled to the comments. They were vicious and vulgar, you don't know what else did you expect honestly. You tossed the phone and buried your face in your hands fighting the urge to tweet something about the nasty people and how they should keep their antediluvian opinions to themselves. You sighed again perhaps if you were in a different country you'd do that, but here with systematic misogyny, where women were supposed to always smile and nod their heads, here where they got paid 60% of men's pay... you'd most likely be crucified. Then again who if not you would come to your defense? You knew the answer — no one, that realization was enough to anger you even more. The blood was boiling inside you as you snatched your phone back and went into Twitter silently mouthing apologies to your manager who'd be blowing your phone in just a few minutes.

 "Yes, I don't wear bras. No, it's not a topic for your article nor your problem. I also know it may shock some people but my dating life is not a topic for your entertainment either."

"It baffles me how Korean society thinks its country is in the group of one of the most civilized ones but still treats women as if we were stuck in 50s."

  Your phone was already blowing with notifications, you could see some new articles already popping and soon after that it buzzed as your manager tried to reach you. You silenced your phone and left it on the coffee table while you moved to the kitchen. You got yourself a lamp of wine and watched always busy streets of Seoul from a window. It was already dark and it looked like rivers of light with cars and street lights constantly illuminating them. You were deep in your thoughts as you pondered if you made a good decision. You had a good life in California. You had your best friend there, a house with a pool and many good opportunities for roles you declined. In those four years you became an international star after your role as Marvel's White Fox — a gumiho superhero. You knew in a year or two Disney would ask you to come back to make more movies and most likely you would but you couldn't stay in the USA any longer. Somehow, even though it seemed illogical considering the warm welcome you've got, you still missed your home. You missed Korea the country that loved to hate you. You weren't exaggerating when you said they loved to hate you, for instance you always played villains in Korean films and dramas and the Korean audience loved it. They loved to hate your characters and so every time you tried to audition for a role that would be first or second lead you'd always be cast as the villain. The very first time you played a good character was when you portrayed the White Fox for Marvel, they chose you because you were half American (on your father's side) and because you used to play femme fatales and that was kinda the character. You accepted the role secretly hoping that it would change the way Korea has seen you. It didn't. They said you were too Westernised and that you weren't true Korean and had their own perfect casting with actresses that weren't as scandalous as you. Well, at least the rest of the world loved you. Nonetheless, you came back. You still weren't sure if it was a good idea or for how long, or even if you'd work here or just relax; you were just happy you could eat unhealthy convenience store food whenever you felt like and that kimchi was a standard and not something you'd only find in specific shops. Speaking of, you craved some ramyun with cheese and perhaps some yakult as well. You changed your clothes into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie and chose to wear a black cap and face mask as well. You checked yourself in a huge mirror in the corridor. Your outfit screamed two things: first was "I am a crazy murderer from drama" and and second "look at me I'm a celebrity". You sighed. Honestly what else could you wear? You decided not to change and went out to the nearest convenience store.

You walked slowly taking your time to get to the store while listening to Def Soul hoping lazy beats would calm your nerves. You bopped your head to the rhythm as you entered the store and went straight into ramyun section. You picked your favourite spicy one and grabbed some cheese, yakult and cherry coke. The girl working there seemed really young and you caught her yawning. She apologized and you smiled warmly although she probably couldn't see it through the mask.

"Don't worry about it I'm tired today as well." you said, and she smiled. You paid with a card and regretted not withdrawing any money so that you could tip her. You remember when you were just a bit younger than her, working in similar way but back in the USA; she’d appreciate extra cash. You took the ramyun to prepare it and hummed as you waited for the noodles to get soft. Food always got you to feel better. You were spreading cheese on your noodles when middle-aged men entered the shop. Soon you'd believe it's not your night or perhaps that you got some bad karma, or that you were just cursed. The men came up to the cashier and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You were about to slurp the first noodles when he spoke.

"When will you finish your shift cutie maybe I can pick you up?" He chuckled and the girl tried to smile politely although anyone with eyes could see how uncomfortable she felt. She tried to decline his advances with a small scared voice clearly she was too young to feel comfortable enough to just curse him out.

"You sluts are always the same. You smile at me flirt with me and then act all fucking.."

"Aish!" you didn't let him finish. And he turned your way surprised someone else was in the store. "I lost all appetite," you dropped the chopsticks next to the bowl and moved your gaze at the male: disgust was rolling off from you in waves, and he flinched upon meeting your eyes, "then again who wouldn't if they had to eat in the presence of trash?" You watched as his face got all red and furious, it seemed almost twisted now. "How dare you speak like that to me, you bi..." once again he couldn't finish his sentence this time you silenced him with your swift actions. You closed the distance between the two of you and grabbed his hand firmly. Then you put it behind his back and twisted it painfully enough for him to groan.

"Call me a bitch, I dare you." you said quietly, but he didn't respond, he just jerked trying to escape your hold. He smelled like tobacco, digested alcohol and grease. You scrunched your nose and took him out of the store. You pushed him lightly, and yet he still lost balance and fell. He shot you a glare full of hate and fury while you tried to remain calm. Truth to be told you were scared, yes you jumped in to help the girl, and successfully silenced him, but that was most likely only because he wasn't sober. You were silently asking universe to help you out as you mustered your courage and played your part of "fearless Y/N”.

"Leave or I'll call the police and tell them you harassed both me and the girl." He stood up and spit under your legs before he left. You sighed, a tight knot unravelling itself finally in your belly, adrenaline that was brought up with the surge of fury disappearing now, leaving you bit wobbly. You made mental note to thank the director of The White Fox for making you take those material arts classes, they came in handy. You came back to the store, you didn’t pay attention to the girl that watched you in awe. You just wanted to enjoy your noodles. Finally, able to take the bite you let out disgusted groan they got too soft. Letting out resigned sigh you opened the yakult.

"Miss Y/N.." small voice started next to you. The girl was blushing and smiling. She was cute, had long brown hair and a mole just under her left eye. You smiled back and it seemed to encourage her. "Thank you. You are like the coolest unnie ever. I will always support you and fight anyone that calls you names and.." You chuckled at her eagerness and sudden flood of words. "Thanks kid. What's your name? "Kim Seoyun." "Nice to meet you Kim Seoyun. I'm L/N Y/N." you said with a smile, and she blushed even more. You looked through the window and bit the inside of your cheek. What if he comes back when you're gone, you couldn’t risk it. "Tell me Seoyun when do you end your shift?" She took out a phone from her pocket. "Oh, in ten minutes." "Great I'll wait for you and order you a taxi." "Ah, unnie you don't have to… you already helped me enough and.." "Nonsense", you cut her off "he may come back and I'll sleep better knowing you are safe at home."

She nodded and came back to work. Leaving you with your soggy and lukewarm noodles. You thought about throwing it out but you hated wasting food and so you made yourself eat at least a bit although now it was cold and awfully soft. Ten minutes passed rather quickly and soon you found yourself standing next to the taxi with Seoyun. You gestured her to get in, but she stood in front of you and suddenly bowed deeply while extending her hands in front of you. Much to your surprise she was giving you a popsicle.

"Y/N-unnie I know it's not much but I wanted to thank you..."

You grinned at her while taking the gift. You quickly unwrapped it and tried it, it was strawberry flavoured.

"Thank you. It's the best popsicle I've ever had." You said honestly. Seoyun blushed and entered the car but before the taxi took off she lowered the car window and screamed.

"Y/N-unnie from today I'm your biggest fan! Unnie fighting!" You laughed.

"Mmm. Thank you!" After that car took off and you happily walked back home. Earphones in, phone in your hand as you decided to order some food since the ramyun sadly haven't been quite satisfying. You slurped at the popsicle even though it was the time of year when nights got colder. The taste of strawberries melted on your tongue. It was the first time someone in Korea told you they were your fan, it was also the first time a Korean fan gave you a gift. Despite the chilly air, and cold ice against your lips you felt warmth spreading from your chest. Grinning to yourself, you scrolled through different restaurants still thinking of what should you eat and then you bumped into someone or rather someone bumped into you. Popsicle fell to the ground and so did your phone with earphones brutally torn out from your ears. The man who bumped into you was in a very similar attire as your own he even wore a mask and a cap. You frowned upon realizing the gift from your first Korean fan was melting next to you. You were however about to apologize before he spoke in irritated tone while collecting some boxes scattered around you two.

"Next time watch where you're going." The blood inside you boiled the third time this evening and you snapped back at him before he could add anything else.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going." your tone was so aggressive it was clear all of the frustrations from today's evening build up in you. You gathered your things quickly.

"Excuse me..." he said straightening as he glared at you. His tone was promising a fight or a lecture at least. You didn't feel like any of that so once again today you didn't let someone finish their sentence, a habit of yours as it seems.

"Apologies accepted, asshole." you said fiercely and left him standing there with his stupid boxes in a state of shock. You got into the elevator and decided not to pay anyone any more of your thoughts tonight. You smiled at wooden popsicle stick and quickly forgot about the man downstairs.

Jinyoung was still shocked but also amused by your witty comeback. He knew he reacted upon his emotions when he was rude to you. He was just angry that he had to move the second time in the last two months. Sasaengs somehow found out about his last apartment in which he lived for only two weeks and just started feeling at home. Few days ago they found him, and he was harassed once again. Tired and angry he acted without thinking when you bumped into him and his belongings scattered. He wanted to apologize right away but you growled back at him, and he got irritated, so he wanted to lecture you or at least tell you not to interrupt other people when they are speaking, but you did just that and in very smart matter at that as well. Now Jinyoung was riding an elevator trying to pinpoint your face, he was sure he had seen you somewhere already. He entered his flat and sighed as he realized he had to unpack once again. He decided it could wait till morning.

You were woken up by both pounding and drilling in the wall behind your head. With long groan you pulled a pillow over your head but it didn't help much. You checked the time on your phone. It was seven thirty in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep till three - courtesy of your jet lag. You tried to ignore it hoping that you were sleepy and tired enough to fall asleep, unfortunately to no avail.

"Who the hell does the renovation on Saturday morning?" you asked your own walls with furious tone. You left the bed deciding to speak with the person next door. You didn't even bother to change from your PJ or brush your teeth, or hair, or even to throw something over yourself. You left your apartment in your bunny pyjama set, a gift from your best friend. Soon you were pounding angrily at the door. It took quite some time before the drilling inside stopped and someone opened the door. The man who opened seized you up and down with his eyes and coughed in his fist diverting his gaze somewhere else.

"Can I help you?" he asked his voice was a bit distressed. "I sure hope you can. It's Saturday seven in the morning." you were fuming, and he finally looked at you although he kept his eyes stuck to your face. "Ah... thank you for informing me. Are you working as personal calendar and clock for all of your neighbours or am I on some special treatment?" he asked sarcastically and smirked which made you: first bewildered and second even more mad if that's possible. "Let me rephrase that for you: it's Saturday, early morning and you are drilling in a wall." "Well, technically it was Mr Ahn who was drilling, I was enjoying myself with a book." He clearly enjoyed teasing you, there was this gleam in his eyes. "Don't you think that's a bit too early for a renovation?" your voice was seething with venom although you tried to keep your cool. "Quite contrary. I checked with the building manager, and I am only supposed to keep quiet between ten p.m and seven a.m. as you can see I even waited thirty minutes." He smiled at you and in that second you hated him, his stupid brown hair, strangely symmetrical face, weirdly tight cardigan and the fact that you couldn't do much since he was in the right. You just turned on your heels ready to storm off back to your flat when he spoke again. "Ah, and might I add I just love your fashion sense." he raised one brow and his eyes once again travelled through your body. "Excuse me?"

"Apologies accepted." Your face went from frowned and angry to shocked in a second, and he laughed at your reaction before closing the doors and leaving you cursing yourself, your luck and your best friend who thought it would be cute to buy you pyjama set which contained of hoodie with ears and a bunny tail and some shorts.

You entered your apartment, deep red setted on your face from both anger and embarrassment. As soon as you closed the doors the drilling continued. You cursed under the breath and went to shower. You stood long under the stream letting the water wash away both dirt and emotions. Once you were clean and ready for the day you’ve decided to ditch your flat for now since it was too loud for you anyway. This time you went for less sporty look but still all black. It was a turtleneck, slacks, martens and a beret. Chic and comfortable. You did  your makeup and hair and went out for breakfast. The car was already waiting for you when you got downstairs. You pulled a black mask over your face and greeted the driver who didn't talk much and so you didn't have to worry about the small talk. You scrolled through your phone checking the messages you got from your manager — there was about twenty of them and somehow each was written with different emotion: rage, irritation, sadness, hopelessness and so on. You sighed knowing that you should probably apologize for the troubles you caused him. Then again what were you supposed to do, not react when half of this country is calling you names? You signed back in your Twitter only to be greeted by thousands of notifications. Most of which were trolls and haters commenting on your tweets with occasional death threats in your DMs. You tried your very best not to read each and every comment knowing that even though you were strong it still affected you. You were; however, positively surprised when you found some supporting voices. There was your best friend (obviously) who fiercely defended you and called out everyone on their bull, he even threatened legal action and you smiled brightly at his tweets, but there were also few Korean celebrities who took your side and defended you as well. Most importantly there were few normal people, fans perhaps, who applauded you and thanked for speaking out. You smiled when you saw user "Y/NUnnieFandomPresidentSeoyun" somewhere in your notifications. Somehow traffic was still bad even on weekend and it took you forty minutes to get to the café you had in mind. Once you got there however you didn't regret time spend on travel. It was café in quiet part of town, it wasn't very popular since it wasn't in Gangnam but because of that it was one of your favourites. No paparazzi, no dispatch, no other celebrities.

The place itself wasn't very big but it had huge windows and was located in front of the park so you could easily grab a coffee and go for a walk or just stay inside and watch people and kids spending their time at the park. The interior wasn't anything special either, it wasn't one of those Instagram worthy cafés. It had simple modern style. You came in and ordered coffee and some toasts and sat in front of the window. There were few people inside so you sat without your mask freely and wondered if your friend was already sleeping. It was around nine here so in Los Angeles it was probably midnight. You texted him asking if he's sleeping, and he just responded by facetiming you right away. His black hair was still wet from shower, and he wasn't wearing any shirt.

"Yah! Y/N-ah!" he scolded you immediately. "How dare you not text or call your best friend for over a day. Do you know how worried I was?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"It's not like you contacted me either. And put some clothes on Tuan."

"Never. I know you secretly love watching my chest."

"Gross. Anyway.. I haven't called because I was tired yesterday, you know jet lag and all of that, so don't get mad at me."

"How are you now?" His playfulness was replaced by concern and it was clear he wasn't really asking about the quality of your sleep which was in fact terrible thanks to your lovely neighbour.

"I'm fine." He gave you the look. "Really. Honestly I didn't expect anything better from what I got, so I'm fine Mark."

"I shouldn't have let you go. You know what? Those people don't deserve you. Come back to the USA and let's live together again I'll even cook. Or I can come to you I'll fight them and keep you company. I'm can easily stream from there.." You giggled at him and he grinned. "You know I'm serious though you can come back I already miss you anyway. God, I should have married you maybe you wouldn't leave me Y/N-ah..." he was whiny again and you laughed. It was an inside joke between you. Both yours and his parents would always tell you to just marry already but neither of you felt anything romantic towards the other one. You'd known each other since you were two and both of you had treated each other like siblings ever since.

"You should have and now it's too late. I'll find myself new victim and feast on their heart like a true gumiho I am." you said in theatrical manner while munching on your toast.

"Honestly who the fuck writes those articles?"

"I don't know but I'm pretty sure... Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me." you said and tried to lower your face down so that the person passing in front of the window you've been sitting by couldn't see you.

"What? What? Is that paparazzi? Your ex? Is that paparazzi rented by your ex?" You frowned at your friend.

"What? No? It's my asshole neighbour." "Never heard of him. Why are we hiding anyway? You can just tell him to back off. Last time I checked you were great at that." He showed you two thumbs up and smiled broadly. "I'm hiding because I'm embarrassed and I don't want to talk to him." "Why?" he laughed. "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything it was that stupid PJ you got me..." you whispered at him while trying to make yourself as small as possible. "Oh my god. One day in Korea and you already got yourself a one-night stand. This is not how I raised you. What would your mother say?" he teased you and giggled. "For the love of... it's not like that." you said angrily a bit too loud perhaps since the men in question who was just ordering by the counter turned around and looked you dead in the eyes. His neutral expression changing to surprised before it transformed to smirk. You cursed yourself and Mark and bowed your head slightly and awkwardly before you turned around to face your now laughing friend.

"You should see your face."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"You love me."

"What a surprise." Third voice spoke up by your side and you cringed a little before you put on your cold mask on.

"A surprise indeed." You said, your neighbour moved his eyes from your face to the screen of your phone carefully placed against the glass. Mark was still there, still half naked and smirking at you.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

"No." you and Mark said at the same time and you send him death glare regretting that you couldn't kick him right now. "I was about to go to sleep anyway. Love you."

He disappeared without waiting for your response. You let out soft sigh and reach out for phone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The man was already sitting next to you. He was smiling at you and perhaps any other person would say it was a warm type of smile but you felt like he was mocking you. Constantly. You straightened up in your seat and eyed him closely. He was wearing the same tight cardigan, it was accentuating his broad frame and muscles hidden underneath soft, brown cashmere and simple but well fitted blue jeans. You had to admit he was handsome and had somehow angelic face which only made you cringe once you compared it to his personality or at least to what he showed you already. "I don't think that's a good idea." You said after a pause, his expression didn't change for a second, and he sipped on coffee that blushing waitress brought a few seconds ago. "How so?" His voice was sweet and melodic, it irritated you even more. "I am a celebrity, there might be an article about me having coffee with you tomorrow." You kept your tone intentionally bored as you played with the spoon. He laughed and you changed your mind his speaking voice couldn't be called melodic when his laughter sounded so beautifully.

"That's funny. I'm celebrity as well I think I'll survive." It wasn't surprising at all, he was too good-looking to not be an idol, a model or an actor perhaps. You held back another sigh. You could already see the headlines "Y/N attacks again will this man keep up with her appetite" or perhaps "One day in Korea, and she already dates — check out Y/N and her new boy toy". "Yeah I doubt it." you said but quickly added. "Weren't you supposed to renovate your apartment anyway?" "I left it to Mr Ahn it got too loud for me to read in peace."

"I can imagine." Sarcasm was basically dripping from your tongue which only seemed to amuse him even more. His eyes were now twinkling and you thought that he must be a devil in disguise. "I must say it's very lucky that I met you here. What are the odds, right?" "Ah I wouldn't call it lucky, that's for sure." You were currently planning how to escape from this conversation. "So how about we get to know each other a bit better?" He proposed with a warm smile. "I don't think so. I don't even know you." "Oh. That's harsh you do know me. I'm your neighbour and this is our third meeting." He placed a hand over his heart and frowned in pain and you wondered how can one still look handsome while frowning before he continued. "Besides I can fix that. I'm Park Jinyoung nice to meet you. See now we know each other." You fought and urge to roll your eyes and you summoned the most polite looking smile you had in your arsenal. Your phone rang before you could say anything and you've never been more happy to see your manager's face appearing on your screen.

"I'm sorry I have to take it." you said politely, and he just nodded. "Oh I wasn't expecting you to pick up." "Ah manager-nim don't be like that I haven't been picking up only for one day." "Why are you so polite are you with someone?" "Yes." You glared at Jinyoung, he was watching you with a smile with coffee in his hand. "Ok, I can call later." "No!" you almost screamed and cleared your throat trying to remain composure. "No, it's fine." "O-ok. Do you have time today? We should meet and talk I just got something that may interest you. It's really nice drama. I know you said you don't want to play in any of those romantic stories but hear me out this one is..." you'd roll your eyes if not for your neighbour's curious eyes. "Of course when and where will we meet?" You decided to cut off his rumbling. "Really? Before departure, you said you won't play in any stupid drama again." "Ah, I see. I did say that. We should meet today, text me the address then." Hanging up on him, you hoped he got the brains to follow up with text. He thankfully did and your phone barked. Jinyoung laughed again and you gave him confused look. "Did your phone just bark at you?" You blushed against yourself. Was it so weird to have a dog's bark as your message sound? "Ah... yes. I like dogs." You cringed on yourself. Somehow today in front of this man you were constantly losing your cool. He either irritated you or made you flustered enough to forget any eloquent comebacks or eloquence at all. "Anyway it was nice meeting you Jinyoung-ssi but I have to meet up with my manager."

"Oh you're leaving without even properly introducing yourself?" He cocked a brow on you and smirked. You stood up and looked at him coldly. "I'm sorry I don't feel the need." You were about to leave before he spoke again. "Ah… running already... startled... like a true bunny. Come to think of it... it does have a nice ring into it, doesn't it? Bunny. It suits you and you even have a costume already." His voice was so extremely mocking that you felt the irritation buzzing in you like electricity. Not to mention he spoke so loudly the waitress that was blushing at him before now listened carefully. You groaned internally. What if she writes about it somewhere. Media won't let you live especially that he is your neighbour they'd say he is already in love with you. And "bunny" was such a couple pet name. You were in the midst of your internal crisis before he decided to speak again.

"Have nice day bun.." You reacted before you thought, your hand slapped against his mouth before he could say anything more. His eyes got bigger, he was clearly shocked that you were so close to him, that you touched him and that you didn't really care about your language. You on the other had were fuming. You've met your fair share of fuckboys, assholes and idiots but not one of them that had similar status to yours acted with such insolence in public where other people could see you. Well, almost none, perhaps your ex was the only one. You kept your voice quiet, loud enough only for him to hear.

"Shut up. And watch your tongue before I pull it out because the universe be my witness I will and I'll do it with pleasure. My name is not kitten, bunny or any other pet name your buffoon head comes up with. It's Y/N. My name is bloody Y/N." You hissed out and his hand reach out to yours. It was hot from coffee and soft even though his grasp was firm. He took your hand of his mouth and smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

You took a step back and send him the look that must have looked like you were trying to shoot daggers at him.

"I'm sure it is. Now if you excuse me. I don't want to be late."

You rushed to counter to pay only to find out it was already taken care of by Jinyoung. You furrowed your brows and wanted to give him his money back instantly but your phone buzzed and it was your cue to leave. The driver was here.

To Mark 🐰 💙 : One day Tuan... you'll pay for this betrayal

From Mark 🐰 💙 : ILY 2 good night. P.S. He seemed hot 👀

You rolled your eyes how hot was he didn't matter if his sole personality drove you crazy only after three brief meetings. You sighed. This was not how you wanted to spend this day: enraged twice and on your way to see your manager.

Keep reading

[sbtlns]

Home, part six

Warnings: fight scene, angst, nsfw scene

A/N: hehe cliff hanger >:) 

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

 Castiel quickly walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his room, careful to turn his body out of your sight. Once he reached the comfort of his room, he sat down on his bed and pulled his phone out. He really didn’t want to call Dean and ask for help, but he really had no idea what he was doing. Sighing to himself, he reluctantly dialed Dean’s number. “Cas, buddy, how are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did Y/N find you? Where-” 

“Dean.” Castiel’s gruff voice cut off the older Winchester through the phone. He sighed before continuing, trying to be patient. “I am well, Y/N found me, we are at her old house,” he answered quickly. He heard the brother let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear man. How are things? Everything alright?” Dean continued to bombard him with questions. “Actually,” Castiel began before sighing again. “I have a bit of a...predicament,” he said vaguely. “...What kind of predicament?” Dean questioned. “My vessel...it appears to be..malfunctioning,” Castiel explained slowly. A moment passed as understanding washed over Dean. “And is this...predicament...in the downstairs region?” Dean asked, holding back a fit of laughter. “...Perhaps,” Castiel answered hesitantly. Dean couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer and Castiel rolled his eyes, annoyed at the lack of help being offered from his friend. “I’m..I’m sorry man...” Dean apologized between laughs. “Dean this isn’t funny,” Castiel scolded into the phone. “I made a fool of myself in front of Y/N. I hope I haven’t offended her..” he trailed off, voice becoming softer at the thought of offending you. “Cas, trust me buddy, you did not offend Y/N,” Dean said, clutching his side and breathing deeply, trying to recover from his laughing fit. “All right, bud, this is what you’re gonna do.” 

After you watched Cas awkwardly shuffle up the stairs, you decided to start on breakfast. You were craving eggs and toast, and you hoped that would be okay with Castiel. You fruitlessly tried not to think about his current state upstairs, but to no avail. You imagined how beautiful he would look in all his glory, head lolled against his shoulders. You fought the urge to run upstairs as you pictured his mouth slightly parted and eyes closed in pleasure. The soft moans he would make as he touched himself.....Get a grip, Y/N! You shook your head rid of your fantasy and pulled your attention back to the eggs you were frying up, ignoring the ache in your core and damp spot in your panties. 

You placed an egg, slice of toast, and some cut fruit on a plate for Castiel when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You placed his plate in front of his chair before turning around to greet the former angel. He had tried to make himself presentable; he had changed into jeans and an old tshirt of Dean’s, but the glow in his cheeks and his unusual relaxed state gave him away. “Better?” you smiled gently at him. His cheeks reddened and he gave you a tight lipped smile in confirmation before averting his eyes from yours. “I um, made some breakfast,” you said, gesturing to his plate on the table and sitting down. He nodded and muttered his thanks, still not looking you in the eye. Part of you enjoyed how flustered he was around you, but eventually you decided to throw him a bone. 

“So Cas,” you began, pushing a piece of egg around your plate with your fork. Cas briefly raised his head to look at your before looking back down at his plate. “How do you feel about going shopping with me today? We need to get you some clothes and I need some new jeans,” you said, looking up at him. He relaxed his tensed shoulders, relieved to be talking about something other than his..predicament..from this morning. “I would like that very much,” he said, smiling and looking up to meet you gaze. You stared back into his ocean eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them for a moment. Castiel was the first one to break the silence. “This breakfast was lovely, thank you, Y/N,” he said looking down at his empty plate. You laughed as you stood up taking both of your plates, “it’s just eggs and toast, Cas,” you said, making your way to the sink. Castiel smiled to himself. Yes, but it’s your eggs and toast, he thought to himself. 

You went back upstairs to get ready for the day, stopping in the mirror to fix your hair. You slipped off your sleep shirt and put on a bralette before rummaging through your drawer for the shirt you wanted. Suddenly you heard Castiel’s voice along with your door creaking open. “Y/N I was w-” he cut himself off. You stood in shock just staring at the intruder. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. You stood in front of him in nothing but panties and a bralette. He desperately searched for something to say-anything-but was rendered speechless. He couldn’t help his eyes wander to roam up and down your body, taking in every detail. “Cas!” you squeaked, trying to cover yourself up. He snapped out of it and took the hint, and practically tripped over his feet leaving the room. You stood there for a few minutes after he had left trying to regain your composure. You got dressed and took a deep breath before walking down the stairs. Castiel heard you coming down and immediately shot off the couch toward the bottom of the staircase. 

“Y/N I apologize it was not my intention to.. see you, I entered the room to-” “Cas,” you interrupted him, feigning anger, but soon broke when you saw his pleading puppy eyes and the way he held his hands clasped together by his chest. You giggled before saying, “it’s okay, just remember there’s a reason why doors are closed,” he nodded, lowering his head. “Well, now that we’ve both been sufficiently embarrassed, how bout shopping?” you said, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Shopping with Cas had been..interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly very picky. One shirt was too scratchy, another was too tight, another was too blue, and -your favorite- another one was “eh.” “What do you mean “eh?” you asked him. He scrunched his face up. “It’s just....eh.” You wiped a hand over your face before responding. “Cas, bud, do you like anything here?” Cas looked around for a moment before a table of flannels caught his eye. He walked over to the table and started picking up ones that he liked. You rolled your eyes before following him. “Really, Cas? Flannels? You really are a Winchester, huh,” you laughed. He smiled softly, picking up more. The two of you picked out several outfits for him before reaching the underwear section. “So Cas,” you said trying your best to hide your blush and sound nonchalant, “boxers or briefs?” He thought for a moment, looking between his two options. “Boxers,” he decided and you tried not to think of how he would look in each of the pairs he chose. After collecting his new wardrobe, you checked out and got back in the car. “Where to next?” you turned and asked him. “Wherever you would like to go,” he responded, smiling at you. You thought for a second. “I know a good smoothie place, we could go if you wanted?” “That sounds lovely, Y/N.” 

The two of you made easy conversation on the car ride over and you told memories from the places you were passing along the ride. You parked in the lot and you noticed two men in suits standing along the side of the building. Out of habit, you reached down to make sure your gun was still in your waistband. Shrugging off the uneasy feeling you had, the two of you hopped out of the car and headed to the store, your eyes still on the two men. You made eye contact with one of them, who quickly hit his partner to get his attention. “Heads up- 11 o’clock,” you said under your breath to Castiel. His brows furrowed and he looked up to see the two men walking briskly towards the two of you. “Fuck,” you muttered, reaching to put your hand on your gun. You became increasingly aware of the fact that Castiel was weaponless. As an angel he had no need for a gun, and an angel blade was hard to conceal without his signature trenchcoat. You cursed again at this realization as the two men were quickly closing the gap between you. 

“Castiel. We have been looking for you, brother,” one of them said from across the parking lot. Your blood ran cold as you realized two things at once: 1. they had every intention to hurt, if not kill your angel, and 2. your angel blade was in the car...20 feet away. “Castiel. Angel blade. Car. Go.” You said to him through your teeth, pulling your gun out of your waistband. He shot you a concerned glance. “But Y/N-” “NOW.” He hesitantly looked between you and his brothers before sprinting to the car. 

“Walk away while you still have the chance,” you said threateningly, stopping in front of them, gun pointed. The two angels laughed. “You know that gun isn’t going to kill us,” one said mockingly. You set your shoulders back and lifted your head a little higher. “No,” you started, “but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” you said, unloading a clip into one of them. The angel groaned and dropped to the ground as the other angrily charged at you. He used his grace to disarm you before winding up and punching you in the face. You stumbled backwards, pain searing across your cheekbone. You came back up, dodging his next punch, but crashing to the ground as he swept your leg out from under your. He pinned you to the ground, squeezing your neck tightly. “Silly human, just wait until we alert angel radio. You-” He was cut off as his eyes and mouth glowed brightly, before collapsing on the ground next to you. You gasped for air, coughing and holding your throat. Castiel stood above you where the angel had been, the angel blade in his hand covered in blood. “Y/N,” he said concerned, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he hauled you up to your feet and pulled you into a tight hug. You were shocked for a moment before returning his embrace. “Y/N I’m so sorry they were after me not you I could’ve.. I could’ve lost you” his last words came out in a whisper as he gripped you tighter. 

“Cas,” your voice came out strained, a combination of being strangled and from how tight his embrace was. He seemed to pick up on this and released you, still gripping your forearms. “I’m okay, really,” you forced a smile. “Come on we need to get out of here.” The two of you started to make your way to the car when a wave of pain shot up your ankle. You stumbled for a second before Castiel caught you. “You’re hurt,” he said, voice filled with concern. “I’m fine,” you grunted, taking another step. You winced as you put weight on your ankle, which didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel. Without saying anything, he slid an arm around your back and swept your feet off the ground to carry you bridal style back to the car. “Cas!” you squealed. He smiled softly down at you. “You are injured,” he stated plainly, turning his gaze back in front of him. Your heart fluttered at the contact and you melted against his chest. 

He opened the passenger door and lowered you into the seat before walking around the car and getting in the driver’s seat. “When you branded my ribs it warded me against angels right?” you asked, looking over at him and wincing as you moved your neck. He shot you a pained look before answering, “yes. Why?” “Well did you also brand Jimmy’s ribs?” you questioned. Castiel was quiet for a moment before answering, “No, I did not.” You nodded and picked up your phone, searching for the nearest tattoo shop. “We’re gonna mark your vessel so no more angels find us. The one who pinned me down threatened to tell angel radio so at least we know no one else knows where we are.”

~~

“You sure about that?” you questioned after Castiel told the tattoo artist where he wanted the warding. He looked up at you questioningly. “Yeah, tough guy, ribs are gonna hurt, I’m not sure if you can handle that,” the artist teased. Castiel clenched his jaw and glared at the man. “I can handle it,” he said firmly. You exchanged a glance with the artist before he shrugged and got to work. Cas hid his pain well in the beginning, but after the first half hour his eyes closed tightly and he winced as the artist continued. After what felt like years to Castiel, the artist was finally done and you paid him before getting back in the car with Castiel. “Looks good,” you said softly as he lifted his shirt up gingerly. A blush crept up his cheeks before he started the car and pulled out of the lot.

When you got home, Castiel insisted on carrying you up the stairs and tending to the cut along your cheekbone. After he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention to your ankle. “I do not think that it’s broken, but it will be sore for a few weeks,” he said, carefully turning your foot in his hands. “I’m sorry, if I had my grace I would have healed you by now and you would not be in pain,” he said sadly, hanging his head. “Hey,” you said, lifting his chin up. “I’ll be okay Cas, thank you.” He gave you a small smile in return. 

“I don’t think I have it in me to cook tonight, is pizza okay?” you asked. “Of course,” he assured you. You called in a delivery order to your local pizza shop as Castiel carried you back down the stairs. He set you down on the couch and you put on a tv show to pass the time before the pizza got there. Halfway through the episode Castiel cleared his throat. “Y/N, I truly am sorry about today. You’re hurt because of me, because of a mistake that I made. And my brothers they almost....” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know what I would have done if they had. I..can’t lose you, Y/N,” he turned to face you, desperation filling his eyes. “I-” he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders before rising from the couch. You sat in shock as Castiel greeted the pizzaman at the door. What was he going to say? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him confessing his feelings for you. You had been fantasizing about it for so long, it didn’t seem possible.. or did it?

Whatever Castiel was going to say remained unsaid. The two of you ate the pizza and got distracted by the show until you glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. “Cas,” you groaned, sitting up straighter. “We should go to bed.” He nodded and stood up before facing you and scooping you off the couch. “Cas,” you giggled,” “you know you don’t have to keep carrying me, right?” He gave you a toothy grin. “I know, Y/N,” he said, carrying you up that stairs and into your room. He set you down on your bed. “Goodnight, Y/N. Pleasant dreams,” he said before closing your door behind him. You sighed. “Goodnight, Cas,” you said softly. 

~~ 

It was around 2am when you heard it. “No...NO....stop....please.” You shot up in bed, straining to hear. “Please..don’t...Y/N!....NO!” You jumped out of bed, ignoring the pain in your ankle and running across the hall to Castiel’s room. You burst through the door, gun at the ready. You didn’t find an intruder, but you did find Castiel writhing under his sheet, sweating, and clearly in distress. “Let..her..go,” he said through his teeth, thrashing again. You quickly set your gun on his dresser and sat down next to him on the bed. “Cas,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair. The thrashing stopped, but his face was still contorted in fear. “Shhh, you’re okay Cas, it’s a dream. You can wake up, Cas,” you said softly, still stroking his hair. His eyes shot opened and stared up at you panicked. “Y/N..I..you..” he stammered. “Shhhh, it’s okay Castiel,” you cooed. His features softened and his body relaxed under your touch. You were tempted to stay and keep playing with his hair, but you knew you should let him sleep. “I’ll be right across the hall, Cas,” you said lightly, getting up. His hand flew to your wrist. 

“Please,” he choked out. You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Please stay,” he looked up at you with puppy eyes and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him and holding him as tight as you could. “Of course,” you smiled at him. He hurriedly scooted back on the bed to make room for you and you climbed in beside him, back to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly. “No,” he said into your hair. You nodded slightly and adjusted to get closer to him. He tensed slightly as the curve of your ass brushed against his now hardening member. You felt heat pool in your core as you felt his cock hardening against you. Your body betrayed you and instinctively moved to slightly grind against him. You heard him grunt before pulling you tighter against his chest. “Y/N,” he said in a strained voice. “Hmm?” you hummed, moving your hips rhythmically against his hardening cock. He groaned, hands sliding up your shirt and pulling you even tighter against his body. The ache in your core began to grow as he moved his hands to grip your waist tight. You grinded harder against him, eliciting another groan. “Y/N..I,” he trailed off. “I...” The effect you had on him gave a major boost to your confidence. You turned around to straddle him and his eyes grew wide as his hardened member made contact with your clothed pussy. “I..” was all he managed to get out. “Use your words, Castiel,” you said, voice honeyed. 

----------

tag list: @antoniamarie1989-blog @transparentfestivaltiger @tinymalscoffee 

[lady-divine-writes]

Jealousy

Aziraphale is used to people stopping by his shop to flirt with his (sleeping) husband, so he doesn’t let it bother him. But when the shoe is on the other foot, Crowley doesn’t take it as well. (2213 words)

A peculiar thing happens in Aziraphale's shop on August 13th at precisely two in the afternoon.

A man comes in looking for a book.

That’s not the peculiar part.

People attempt to buy books at Aziraphale’s shop all the time. They’re mostly unsuccessful, but the opportunity is theoretically there.

The peculiar part comes when this man - a statuesque, ruggedly-handsome man in a finely tailored, tan suit, aubergine shirt, and silk tie; a man who looked like he would be equally as comfortable touring the Savannah on holiday as he would be making corporate decisions in a board room – flirts with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale can be oblivious to those things, but the only people who seem to have eyes for him anyway are older women, mainly widows and divorcees, not searching for an exciting good-looker for their next relationship, but a reliable, stable, respectful man that they can talk to about books and music; who will take them to fancy restaurants on Friday nights and play Canasta with them on the weekends. A nice, non-threatening man who likes to garden and do crossword puzzles and cuddle, who won’t make too many demands on them physically. And even then, by the time Aziraphale figures them out, the women in question have already gotten bored and gone, leaving Aziraphale secretly grateful that he didn’t have to part with another one of his precious first editions.

Flirting happens to Crowley all the time. That Aziraphale notices. Women and men alike wander in off the streets to gawk at him. He’s a demon. He appeals to the baser instincts of mortals and that draws them to him. But he also happens to be stunning (in Aziraphale’s opinion, at least).

Aziraphale sees himself as having the appeal of an old couch – quaint and comfortable, familiar, convenient when you need a place to rest your bum but not the sort of thing you’d get excited over if the doorbell rang and you saw it sitting on your front stoop.

But the man who comes in, with his Rolex watch and his hundred dollar haircut, doesn’t so much as even make eye contact with Crowley.

He only has eyes for Aziraphale.

“Hello,” he says in a voice so smooth it slips through his lips and into Aziraphale’s ears without him needing to breathe too hard. “My name’s Ryan. I called earlier about purchasing a first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit? You said you had a copy?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says with a startled gulp, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not sure why the tone of this man’s voice makes him swallow like that. Or why the way he looks at him makes the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. “Yes. Yes, I do. Excuse me for not fetching it prior to your arrival. I wasn’t sure you were serious about picking it up.”

“Yes, I am. It’s very important to me. I’ve been looking for one everywhere.”

“Then you’re in luck!” Aziraphale rises off his stool with a hop. “Because I do indeed have one.” He strolls through the rows of shelves, hunting down the copy Adam had so conveniently magicked up for him after the Apoca-no-go. He hums while he walks, suddenly in a chipper mood as he scans the spines in the children’s section.

As happens quite a bit when Aziraphale’s in the stacks, he gets the feeling that he’s not alone. And he’s not. There’s a general presence that seems to haunt his shop, one that he hasn’t sorted out yet. And, of course, there’s his husband, napping on a chair off to one corner that gets neither too much shade nor sun. Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, curious if his husband may have woken up and decided to slither behind him, but it’s not him.

It’s Ryan.

And Aziraphale smiles bashfully to himself.

“You know, many people would simply download a book like this,” Aziraphale says when he finds what he’s searching for. “I’ve heard you can find it online for free.”

“True, but reading a book online doesn’t compare to holding it in your hands. And a first edition has probably been held by many people, read to many children, and just generally loved to pieces. Kind of like the velveteen rabbit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

From behind the stacks, Aziraphale sees Crowley peek out, glaring over the rims of his Valentino shades. The angel’s eyes brighten at the sight of him. He’s about to summon him over, but he blinks, and his husband disappears in the quarter-second it takes for his eyes to open again.

“Yes, I would definitely agree.”

“Of course, it may not necessarily be that way with every book. You have to make a connection with it.” Ryan takes the book from Aziraphale, two of his fingers brushing the back of Aziraphale’s hand when he does. “They’re kind of like people that way. After a while, you develop a relationship with it. It becomes important to you. And you never want to part with it.”

“Oh, that’s … that’s beautiful,” Aziraphale says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way before, but it’s true. I feel that way about all my favorite books. I do hope your little one feels the same way about this one.”

“Oh, I’m not married.” Ryan flashes his vacant ring finger along with a brilliant smile. “Don’t have any children. I’m sorry to say that this book is simply a gift from me to my inner child. It’s the key to something I’ve been missing, something that I’m hoping to get back.”

“That’s charming. I hope whatever it is that you’ve lost, you find it again.”

“I do as well.”

They talk as Aziraphale rings him up – about books, about music, about the trinkets Aziraphale keeps around the shop and the history behind each one. They briefly talk about Ryan’s job as CFO of a brand new startup that’s skyrocketed within the past year, but they mostly talk about Aziraphale’s shop and his passion for the written word. No other customers come in, or if they do, Aziraphale doesn’t notice. He pulls Ryan up a chair and offers him a cup of tea, hoping Crowley will eventually join them, but he doesn’t go looking for him. Crowley seems to relish his eight hour naps in Aziraphale’s shop.

Far be it for Aziraphale to interrupt him.

As the day drips on, Aziraphale starts to notice the change in the quality of the light as shadows lengthen across the floor. He glances over at the clock on the wall to see if his suspicions are correct, and he gasps.

“Oh, my dear! It’s five o’clock! I didn’t notice the time! Oh, I do hope you aren’t late for anything!”

“Not at all. It was my day off. And I can’t imagine a lovelier way to have spent it than sitting here, talking to you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I’m just curious,” Ryan says, gathering up his book in the brown paper bag Aziraphale supplies him, “what are your hours? I didn’t see them posted on the door. It would be nice to know, just in case my inner child convinces me to buy another book from my past.”

“This store is mainly a pet project of mine, so my hours are a little, shall we say, erratic ...”

“That’s adorable,” Ryan says.

“B-but …” Aziraphale stutters at the interruption “… I should be here tomorrow. Offhand I can’t think of any reason why I won’t be.”

“Excellent!” Ryan smiles, distinctly pleased as he squirrels his purchase behind him. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow. 2:30. Nice snake, by the way,” he says, pointing to a spot behind Aziraphale’s head. “Is it real?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, relieved to see that Crowley hadn’t slipped out of the bookshop and driven off without his noticing, but worried since he only transforms into a snake when he’s agitated.

And from the way he flicks his tongue, eyes wide, shifting uneasily in place, Aziraphale can tell he’s highly agitated.

That makes him dangerous.

“Constrictor?”

“Uh, no …” Aziraphale walks Ryan to the door, eager to close up shop and get things with his husband ironed out. “Red-bellied black snake.”

The smile on Ryan’s face drops straight to his knees. “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Only if they bite you. Thank you so much for stopping by. See you tomorrow. Mind how you go.” Aziraphale practically tosses the poor man out onto the sidewalk but he has no way of explaining to him that it’s for his own good. Aziraphale barely has the locks thrown when he feels the snake rise up behind him, transforming into the human form of his demon husband.

“Ssso, isss thisss going to be a thing now?”

Aziraphale sighs. He loves his husband. He truly does. But he can be so temperamental sometimes, even for a demon. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“Men dropping by your ssshop and making eyesss at you? Eating up all your time?”

“One man.” Aziraphale chuckles. “And my dear, people stop by every day simply to throw themselves at you. Do I bat an eye?”

“But I don’t care about them. None of them make my voice go all quivery like that man made yours.”

“I do admit that maybe I got a little carried away,” Aziraphale confesses, putting a hand to his flushed cheek. “See, I’m not use to getting that sort of attention. It was nice for the moment, but I don’t think it’s something I could handle every day.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’m afraid I’m not very good around people. I prefer the company of my books and my music … and my ill-tempered husband.”

“But that’s the kind of bloke you fancy, right?” Crowley presses. “Someone who talks to you about books and music, and dresses in expensive clothes …”

“You dress in the most expensive clothes I’ve ever seen!” Aziraphale points out with an incredulous laugh.

“You know what I mean!” Crowley says, gesturing with a frustrated hand. “His clothes have … ffffwwwpppp … colors in them!”

“I see. Yes, I guess that does make a difference.”

“I knew it.”

“Ugh! Listen to me, you stupid old snake!” Aziraphale loops his arms around Crowley’s neck, forcing his eyes on him. “The bloke I fancy, as you so eloquently put it, is the one who’s known me my entire existence. Who drinks with me and goes out to lunch with me. Who fights beside me and stays with me, even when I call him ridiculous. Who comes back even when he threatens to run away.” Crowley’s eyes drop to his feet, unable to look at his angel while he’s being reminded of his less-than-stellar attempt to persuade Aziraphale to abandon Earth and join him out in the stars … which ended with his saying he’d go off on his own and never think about him again. “I don’t care if we don’t talk about books. It’s enough that you sit beside me while I read and hold my hand. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why in the world would you think I’d want someone else when I have the best possible person for me already?”

“’dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “All we do is hang out here lately. I think, maybe, I was afraid you might be getting bored with me. That tying yourself down to a domesssticated demon might not be what you signed up for.”

“Bored with you?” Aziraphale snorts. “After 6000 years, you think I’d get bored with you now? You seem to forget that during the decades we weren’t together, my time was spent here. You were the one jet-setting around the world. By rights, I think you should be getting bored with me. With my life.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley says, sliding closer. “You, my darling, could never get boring.”

Aziraphale raises a skeptical brow. “You forget, I’m much better at detecting sarcasm now than I was 6000 years ago.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm.” Crowley snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than here, wasting my days with you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But maybe it is time we take a vacation.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hisses happily. “Go to all the old haunts, relive the glory days.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Otherwise known as last month.”

“You pick first. We’ll go anywhere you want to go. We can pack up my Bentley and leave tonight.”

“Well, tomorrow night.”

Crowley grimaces. “Why tomorrow night?”

“Ryan said he’d be back at 2:30 tomorrow and ...”

Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s collar and (carefully) pushes him up against the nearest wall. He presses him there with his body, tries his hardest to be intimidating, but it doesn’t dim Aziraphale’s grin a single degree.

It never does.

“Not … funny … angel.”

“No?” Aziraphale’s gaze drifts to his husband’s lips the way it always seems to when Crowley has him in this position.

“No,” Crowley says, accepting the invitation of those baby blues and kissing his angel softly. “Not one little bit.”

“You can tell me all about it when we hit the road,” Aziraphale says. “And we’d better make it quick. We’re burning daylight.”

 ***Notes: Let me guys know if you want to see a part 2 where Crowley actually meets our dear Mr. Ryan XD

[imagine-docx]

miscommunication.

Summary: You’re ignoring your best friend because he keeps blowing you off to hang out with some random girl. He thinks you’re ignoring him because you’re pregnant. [bestfriendsturnedlovers!au]

Warnings: swearing, and talks of pregnancy.

A/N: the amount of love and support everyone has given me is astronomical. i hope everyone is maintaining social distancing and are getting any packages they ordered online. - amanda 💛

★。＼｜／。★

Cupid is a little bitch. There it was said. Out in the open for anyone to read. He was a little bitch who couldn’t aim properly. Like how does one fuck up so badly by shooting his love arrow at you and you being deeply in love with your long time best friend? You can’t, but of course the baby fucked up and made it happen.

And it doesn’t help that said best friend is constantly spending time with you whether it was bringing you coffee between clients or spending Saturday nights with you. For instance, here he was now, in your living room being the designated human swatch board for all the new eyeshadow palettes that came in the mail because he has the most arm space.

“So how was last night?” Steve asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

He was referencing the fact that you were supposed to go out with Wanda and Nat the night before, but you ended up cancelling because you were way too exhausted having long work hours during the week and just knocking out after a warm bath.

“So much fun,” you said, jokingly

“Any hot hookups?” Steve asked, trying not to get jealous at the thought of you spending the night with another man.

“Of course,” you said, still joking.

Steve was going to examine your eyes that were focused on swatching a metallic blue eyeshadow to his arm. But that’s when he saw it. The bright purple mark on the side of your neck.

Jealousy suddenly filled Steve, he wanted to be the only one to mark you like that, hell even see you in that way. Go to bed with you at night, go do stupid couple things across New York with you.

Little did he know the mark wasn’t a hickey, but in fact it was a burn mark that you acquired from curling your hair three days prior that was still in the process of healing.

Little did both of you now know, that would mark the start of the game of cat and mouse between the two of you.

★。＼｜／。★

Since the night in your apartment, Steve has been dry and constantly blowing off plans to the point where you don’t even want to try and plan anything with him anymore. Hell even his texts were dry, and your phone conversations went from hours on end, all the way to a solid three minutes. It’s been three weeks of one sided attempts of plans, but there’s always something coming up. Maybe once or twice you would let shit slide and understand maybe something happened, but three consecutive times? It’s suspicious as hell.

You were thinking back to figure out if you’ve done anything to upset him, but to your knowledge, you did nothing. You even talked to Hope about everything, and even she said you didn’t do anything wrong.

You had the longest day at work doing back to back to back meetings about possible makeup looks for upcoming photoshoots. You were ready to go home and call it a night. While walking down Front Street, you decided to see if Steve was available one last time. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled until you hit call on his contact name. “Hello?”

“Hey, what are you up to tonight?” You asked, walking by Front Street Pizza you peered in and saw Steve sitting there with a blonde.

“Hey I’m actually busy with the boys right now, and we’re going out, can I call you back?” He asked.

“Yeah, bye.” You said, not even waiting for a response. Upon hanging up the phone, you scoffed, before letting out a, “Boys night my ass.” You turned the other way and decided to take another street home.

★。＼｜／。★

Of course, seeing Steve with the random blonde sparked an internal debate with yourself. On one hand they could be acquaintances who are just getting a bite to eat. But the other half of you came to the conclusion that he kept blowing you off in order to hang out with the blonde because he doesn’t need his best friend cockblocking him.

Steve being a man of his word tried calling you back the same night, but you brushed it off and pretended that you left your phone in your apartment while you were in the basement doing laundry.

You would have been completely fine with him saying he was on a date with someone else. Even though you liked him, you would never get in the way of another relationship. But having him lie about it to you hurt even more than the idea of him having a girlfriend.

★。＼｜／。★

You never would have anticipated the wheels turning and you were avoiding Steve and he was suddenly chasing you. The moment you started being dry, there were texts, calls, and attempts at plans.

Scoffing at it, he suddenly went from pretending you didn’t exist to now being your guardian.

If anyone messaged you or called you, you would answer as per usual. But if it was him attempting to contact you, you would forget you own a phone and act like you need a pigeon with a note attached to it to get in contact with you.

Seconds ago you got a phone call from Steve, you ignored it as per usual. But then seconds later, it ringed again. You were a mere millisecond away from throwing your phone off the balcony, until you saw it was Hope.

“What’s up?” You answered.

You heard sniffling on the other line, “Can you come over?”

★。＼｜／。★

And that’s how you found yourself at Hope and Scott’s apartment at 1 am on a Monday night. With Scott not being home, and Cassie being at her mom's house for the week, it was just the two of you. Having Hope pace in front of you, you looked down in shock at the positive pregnancy test she handed you the moment you walked through the door. “What do I do?”

“Look at me Hope,” she turned to look at you, “Do you want to have this kid?”

“Yes, but what if Scott doesn’t want to have one? Cassie is already enough for him,” she started tearing up again.

“Scott would be ecstatic to have another kid. Have you talked about having kids with him?” You asked.

“Yes, but we never specified a ti-”

“Okay, you talked about it, and what did he say?” You said, ushering her to sit next to you.

She let out a shaky breath, “He wanted to have kids with me.”

“So then there’s nothing to worry about. If anything, you know we’re here for you,” you said, referring to the friend group that consisted of Nat, Wanda, you, Pepper and Okoye.

She threw her arms around you, “Thank you.”

“No problem love,” you said, hugging her back, “Now we need a way to tell Scott he’s having another kid.”

★。＼｜／。★

Two weeks after your Hope pregnancy adventure, you were still playing the avoidance of Steve game.

You answered his texts, but they were super dry. Things like, ‘sorry have a lot of work going on’ or ‘hey i’m out with someone right now’ or your personal favourite ‘hey, i’m super tired/not feeling well sorry’. Which you all sent in the comfort of your own apartment, because you knew if you didn’t respond he would be ripping your apartment door off its hinges with his bare hands to ensure you were okay.

Today you finished work early, despite being out of the house since four am. Since the day was still young, and partially because you drank too many redbulls so you can’t sleep, you remembered you had to return a pair of jeans that couldn’t fit properly.

Since you were already at the mall, you decided to check if NYX had any new makeup palettes you could possibly use for upcoming clients and projects, and pick up some unisex baby clothes to start helping out Hope for the arrival of her kid.

Little did you know you had a familiar blond following you around the mall.

★。＼｜／。★

Steve thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him when he saw you in the middle of American Eagle. He had to rub his eyes a few times to make sure it was you. He was going to pass by your apartment tonight to make sure you were okay, but seeing you made him feel better.

He saw you returning a pair of jeans, and he thought nothing of it because he knew that online shopping was a hit or miss, and based off the return, was a miss for you.

He didn’t know how, but he found himself following you around the mall to make sure you were okay.

He waited outside the NYX and watched you examine the palettes and think about whether or not you had the colours at home. He followed you into the Macy’s, and watched you in the baby section while he pretended to shop in the men’s section that was right across from it.

He decided to try calling you and see if you were willing to meet up with him. But he watched you silence your phone and toss it in your handbag.

Steve felt like he deserved it for ignoring you for the last few weeks, but you were usually so soft and were willing to put it behind you.

It wasn’t until he got caught in traffic that his own thoughts caught up with him.

One part of him tried to justify that the jeans just did not fit the way you wanted and needed to return them. And you were buying baby clothes for a friend or family member who happened to be pregnant.

The other part of him came to the conclusion that you returned jeans, you were shopping for baby clothes, you were pregnant. You returned jeans because they wouldn’t fit once your stomach got bigger. And baby clothes to fit the kid you were expecting. He thought about possible people who could have been the father, and the only thing clicking with him is the man from the one night stand was the father of your kid. And he didn’t want anyone knowing you were expecting, especially under such circumstances so which was probably why you were ignoring him.

Even though the two of you were not on talking terms, he would expect you talking to him about expecting a kid. Even if it wasn’t him as the dad.

★。＼｜／。★

You continued to be dry towards Steve and essentially fake your own death. Which resulted in him being more concerned about you and your baby’s health and well being, which also resulted in him seeing you purchase bottles, pacifiers, toys, and other necessities.

You were planning gender reveal makeup looks with Hope and Cassie while Scott was out for work.

“We could do the lids a pink, and smoke out the bottom with a blue, or vice versa?” You threw out a suggestion.

“One eye pink, the other blue!” Cassie exclaimed.

“Or that,” you laughed.

You, Hope and Cassie continued to throw random ideas into the air and you wrote down the one that seems the most ideal. You heard the door jingle open, and Scott appeared in his uniform.

Scott ended up joining the debate before whisking Cassie off to shower her and put her to bed.

Tossing your notebook into your bag, you knew this was gonna take several eyeshadow adventures before you nailed the one Hope would like and want.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, is there any man in your life nowadays?” Scott asked, as you were slipping on your shoes.

“The only man I want is gone,” you said, steading yourself after putting on your shoes.

“Call me when you get home?” Hope asked.

“Of course,” the two of you hugged before you bidded your goodbyes and went home for the night.

★。＼｜／。★

You were able to only go into the office for the afternoon as the majority of your client meetings had happened over Skype due to scheduling conflicts. As you were exiting work, you were ready to collapse into a warm bath and order some takeout.

Once you got out of the shower you heard a knock on the door. You were confused as to who it could be because you didn’t place your takeout order yet. Upon opening the door, a large muscular figure pushed past you, “Yes, come on in,” you muttered.

“I understand that you probably don’t want to see me, but I want to let you know that I would do anything for your baby, especially since the dad isn’t in the equation,” Steve rambled.

You went through a series of confusion, which was evident on your face, “Pardon?”

“I know you’re buying baby clothes and other things, and you probably don’t want anyone else knowing you're pregnant given the circumstances,” Steve said, pushing a bag filled with baby clothes and diapers towards you.

“I am not pregnant?” You said, still shocked and confused.

“I won’t tell anyone that you’re pregnant, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, reaching out to grab your hand.

“I am not pregnant. Please for the love of god, if you do not believe me, go buy a pregnancy test.” You suggested.

You didn’t anticipate him actually listening to you and leaving to buy a pregnancy test. While he stepped out, you went to the kettle and filled it with hot water. You were lost in thought as to how he thought you were pregnant and got here. The sound of the kettle whistling pulled you from your thoughts, pouring a cup of tea into a cup for you and Steve.

Steve came back with the test, and you silently took it from his hands before disappearing down the hall and into your own washroom.

Coming back after three minutes, you threw the negative pregnancy test at him. “Happy?”

“So you aren’t…” He trailed off.

“I never was,” you bluntly stated.

“What about that one night stand?” He asked.

You nearly choked on your tea, “What one night stand?”

“That one night when we were swatching makeup here,” he said, crossing his arms.

You stared at him with confusion until you connected the dots, “I was joking about that!”

“What?” Steve now laced with confusion.

“I didn’t go out that night. I bailed because I was exhausted. I came home and knocked out,” you explained.

“Oh. Wait, what about the hickey?”

“What hickey?” You asked, even more confused now.

“You had this big purple spot on your neck when I was over,” he fired back.

It clicked with you what he was talking about, “You mean the curling iron burn?”

“Curling iron burn?”

“Yeah, I was curling my hair and I accidentally burned my neck,” you responded.

“Oh.”

“Wait. You thought I was having a kid?” You asked.

“Well you kept ignoring me and I thought you were embarrassed about the entire thing. Then I saw you returning jeans at the mall, and you were shopping for baby clothes so I thought…” He trailed off.

“You kept bailing on me, and I saw you with that random blonde chick that one time so I thought you had a girlfriend and didn’t want to hang out with me anymore.” You stated.

“You had a one night stand, which solidified that you didn’t have feelings for me so then I started-” It wasn’t until the words left his mouth he realized what he said.

“You like me?” You said, shocked.

“Yeah but you don’t like me back.” He stated, which resulted in you punching him in the shoulder.

“You are an absolute fucking idiot. I like you too, stupid.” You said, cracking a grin at him.

“Wh-” He didn’t even finish his sentence because he was confused.

“Why do you think I ignored you? I thought you dropped me for some other girl,” you said.

Having the words click with Steve, he pulled you into his arms, “God, we are horrible at communication.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “How about we get takeout and establish our relationship?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

You closed the gap and connected your lips to his, moving in complete harmony. The both of you pulled away when you both needed air. But the moment he pulled away, he planted kisses all over your face. Which resulted in giggles erupting from you.

“I hope you have a gift receipt for that,” you said, notioning to the bag filled with baby clothes and other necessities.

He buried his face into your hair and let out a groan, “Don’t remind me.”

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Dear Little Me...

Recently, I’ve been struggling. Struggling with the fact that, looking back on my childhood, I was left with more scars than I thought. That it had far more impact on me and who I am today.

I spent a good portion of the other day traversing through my memories and coming to terms with the fact that I was hurting as a child.

Today... I came across this and decided to give it a go. As a way to let go of the past hurt. To validate myself. And maybe even as a reminder, not just to myself but to anyone that might need to remember that we are worthy of love and kindness and gentleness.

So... here it is. A letter to little me... and maybe, some of you can take a message away from it too.

Hey, Kiddo.

So this is me talking. Um… to start off… I’m nonbinary. No wonder we despised the clothes mum got for us, eh?

So… most people call me Defence these days… and yes, by that, I do mean my friends. And before you ask, yes, you find yourself friends one day. Friends that remind you that they care about you. Friends who never make you question whether or not you matter. Friends who see your flaws and your quirks, who see how different you are and still love you.

Do you know why?

Because you deserve it. Just as much as anyone else.

You do, I promise you that you do, hun. I know that you think you don’t. I know you think that the way your peers treat you is normal. I know that you think that the way your so-called “friends” treat you is normal but believe me… it isn’t.

It is not okay for them to question how devoted you are to the group just because you’d rather sit and listen because you just like listening to them talk.

It is not okay for them to make plans in front of you every single day but never invite you, excluding you from things that you so desperately want to be a part of but are too scared to ask for.

It is not okay for them to dangle their friendship in front of you but only let you get so clos, snatching it away when you behave in a way that they don’t like.

No, they’re not obligated to love you. No, they’re not obligated to spend time with you. They don’t have to invite you anywhere. They don’t owe you shit, to be quite frank.

But to make plans in front of you, to ignore you, to shower each other with affection while you’re forced to watch isn’t okay. To make you question why you’re not good enough for them isn’t okay. To slowly isolate you from them instead of being honest with you isn’t okay. To make their friendship, their love, conditional isn’t okay.

And the thing that hurts me now, kiddo, is I know how much that killed you. I know how much it chipped away at your soul and heart every goddamn day. I know how much you wanted to be a part of that. I know that you loved your friends fiercely. And I know that when you finally left the group… you may as well have not even existed. You discovered the truth that day, little one. You discovered that you didn’t matter. That you were nothing to them.

And it happened time and time again. Because you were different. Because you weren’t normal. Because you didn’t match up with what they wanted from you. Because you were a weirdo that spent more time with her nose buried in a book, content to listen to her friends because their happiness made her happy. Because you just didn’t understand social connections like they did. Because it was harder for you to connect to people your age.

And the worst part is… I know what you’re thinking right now. You think that this is okay. You think that this is normal. You think that love and friendship and affection is unobtainable to you. That you’re not allowed to have it. That you don’t deserve it. That you’re not worthy of it.

And it kills me that you’re going to feel this way for 23 years. It hurts knowing that you’re going to get your heart broken over and over and over again.

It hurts knowing that you question why anyone would be friends with you. Why anyone would love you. Why would they even tolerate you.

It hurts knowing that one day… hearing a friend say “I love you” is going to overwhelm you and leave you wondering “why?”

It hurts knowing that you think that you’re better off alone. That you’re meant to be alone.

And dear fucking Christ above, kid. It breaks my heart knowing that you can’t even look at any reflective surface because you can’t stand to look at the girl nobody wants to be friends with. That you hate yourself. That you wonder every single day what you’d done wrong.

It hurts knowing that you believe people when they say that you don’t care enough. That you’re heartless.

But let me tell you this… you didn’t do anything wrong, my love. You might not always know how to show it or maybe the way you show is just different or maybe you’re just not good at emoting… but you have a heart. You do care. You care so much and have so much affection for your friends that it bubbles up inside your chest and you feel like you’re going to explode because there’s just so much. It overwhelms you… but it’s only a bad feeling when you know they don’t even like you. When you know that they care right back? It’s very comforting.

And that love that you think you’re not worthy of? That friendship that you think you don’t deserve? I need you to know that you do. You are so, so worthy of it all. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not broken. You’re just different and that’s okay.

And here’s a little secret… one day… you’re going to get a haircut. You’re going to change your hair colour. You’re going to dress how you want to dress… and when you do? You are going to have the biggest, dopiest grin on your face when you look in a mirror and for the first time in your life you’ll like what you see and you’ll say “I feel handsome. I like me. This is good.” And it will be. Because you’ll finally be looking at you, not the person everyone wants you to be.

You’ll make friends who care about you. Friends who you care about you so much. Friends who make you feel wanted and loved. Friends that slowly help you unlearn all of the horrible lessons that your school years taught you. And you’ll help them in return. You’ll support each other. Tease each other. Annoy the utter shit out of each other. Be utter gremlins to each other. Scream at each other when you’re not taking care of yourselves. And it comes from a place of mutual fondness, which is very nice.

I know you don’t believe me. You still think that you don’t deserve it. That you’re too broken to have it. That you’re not allowed to have it. That’s okay. You take your time. Hell, I’m still learning to accept it myself! But there’s something else I want to tell you before I go. Something that has been a long time coming.

Are you ready?

I love you, little me. I do. I love you for your quiet nature. I love you when you get loud and excited and don’t know how to wait your turn to speak because of this really cool thing you learned! I love you when you’re shy. I love you when you just want to sit in your room and read. I love you when you think that no one else does. I love all of your quirks and I love you through your flaws. I love you when you’re being a little shit. I still love you when you fuck up and make mistakes, even when those mistakes hurt people. I love how you learn from them. I love how sensitive you are in a world that demands you to be cold and uncaring and harsh. I love your creativity and how you make dumb jokes just to make other people smile and laugh. I love that you’re clumsy because it’s a part of who you are. I love that you love so fiercely, even though it fucking terrifies you because you know it’s just going wind up with another broken heart. I love your strength that you think you don’t have. I love the bravery that you think you lack.

I love you, kid. I’m just sorry that it took me nearly 24 years to say it to you.

I won’t lie. We’re still hurting. Still healing. We have a lot of bad days. But the good days more than make up for them. I don’t always love myself and sometimes, often, I’m not very nice when I speak to myself. But this is me reaching out to you. This is me taking a step forward. This is me looking back at the hurt and scared little girl I used to be and smiling reassuringly.

Because believe you me, kiddo… we’re going to be okay.

That’s a promise that I intend on keeping.

You’re going to hurt. You’re going to lose people. You’re going to watch somebody very important to you fade away to illness and you’re going to grieve for them. You are going to be so strong and so brave for that, no matter what you think. It’s not easy, this road that we walk. But it’s ours and we’re not entirely alone. We have our family and one day, we’ll have our friends.

Chin up, baby girl. Keep those eyes open. Keep breathing and taking it one step at a time. Take as many breaks as you need to. Because one day… you’re going to make it to my point in the road and you’re going to look back and say “Holy shit. I did it!”

We’re not always kind to ourselves… but I am proud of you. I love you. And I promise that I won’t give up on you.

Promise that you won’t give up on me?

And I know it’s your birthday this month. I know you don’t like your birthday, even less after what happened with mum. But it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to laugh and smile and giggle as the people in your life celebrate you.

You deserve it. Because without you, I wouldn’t be in the amazing place I am now.

So… Happy Birthday, little me. You’re more loved than you think you deserve and I can’t wait until you see what’s in store for you.

Spoiler alert; you’re happy. Still sad, still have bad days, still spiral. But you’re happier than you have been for many years. That’s something to look forward to, my dear.

I’ll leave you here… but just know that the future is brighter than you think.

Lots of love,

Older you.

P.s… try shopping in the men’s section. Our non-binary ass will appreciate it 😉

[tres-spades-hotel]

Becoming the Perfect Father, Part II

Hey everyone! So @lin-ful @leoamber66 and @flatsuke inspired me to start writing again! Have fun reading this and prepare yourself for the angst and action across the story... enjoy!

Part II - Kiki’s Heirship, a Backstory of Memories

Hi, my name is Kiki.

I used to be an orphan on the streets of Japan. I had to fend for myself, always dipping in and out of society for a while when I realised my family were no good to me. The scar they left me with on my eye made the famous billionaire, Eisuke Ichinomiya, the man leading Japan’s economy, curious. I saw him one day and believed in my heart I could be safe. I was only 7 years old when I followed him into his hotel one evening.

He crouched down to ask where my parents were but upon hearing the word, I was both crying and hitting him on his chest.

I hated the world for thinking that parents and family were what kept you safe because I didn’t believe it was true.

He didn’t know what to do with me.

I didn’t know what to do with me.

So he took my hand and led me to the penthouse elevator, thinking that Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota could calm me down. And they did. Throughout my time with them for the first few weeks, I was happy. Everyone played with me, they were patient with me, they were curious about me.

Dad looked after me, mostly because he was concerned about Uncle Baba’s antics. Blackmail was all it took to make his brick walls faulter. That day, talk of sending me to an orphanage arose and, apparently, Uncle Baba did not like it.

So Dad kept me, almost like a pet. He fed me, gave me shelter, clothing, and toys. After all this time, I really owe Uncle Baba for helping me even though I didn’t know it then. But there was only one thing Dad wouldn’t give me: his affection. To be honest, I don’t think he knew what it meant to give warmth and love to another person, whether it’s a woman or a child. That is, not until Mum came into our lives.

Instead I spent most of my time asking questions and receiving no answers. They were mysterious people with the world held tight in their hands. They could do anything.

I wanted that ability too.

Of course, it would be some time before I realise what responsibilities that ability entailed. I thought that if I were powerful, I could look after myself and never get hurt again. But it just wasn’t true.

‘Boss, let’s play a bit of poker.’ Uncle Baba said one day.

‘No.’ Rejected.

Uncle Soryu looked up from his book and sent a disapproving look at him.

‘Baba, there is a child here.’

‘Poker is not for children.’ Uncle Mamo muttered sleepily.

Everybody shot Uncle Baba down for the suggestion.

‘I want to play! Can I play too?’ I shot my arm up and waved it around.

‘No.’ Rejected. Again.

‘Kid, you do not want to play poker. You’ll lose instantly.’ Uncle Mamo finally got up from the couch for the first time that day.

‘Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!’

‘Koro, he’s saying that you don’t have enough money to play.’ Uncle Ota was always a devil.

‘Now, now Ota, don’t be so mean to Kiki. She’s just curious,’ Uncle Baba crouched down onto his knee.

‘Princess, poker is an adult game but you’re more than welcome to watch!’ He was always the more kind adult in the group. But I know that they’re all kind… in their own special ways.

‘You can watch me! With you by my side, I’ll win for sure!’ Always jolly too. He slipped an arm around me and hugged me close while the other lingered in the air like a star performer.

‘Baba, you always lose.’ Uncle Ota quipped in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘I do not!’

‘Koro, come sit with me and I’ll let you play with the chips!’

‘Uhhhh….’

‘Stop it. You’re confusing her.’ Uncle Soryu was always a firm favourite of mine after Mum and Dad. I might even be so bold as to call him a secret crush.

‘That’s enough. Kiki, sit next to me and watch what I do.’ Dad ultimately came to my rescue and the game began.

‘So Kiki, first we all put in a certain amount of chips.’ Uncle Baba held up a white chip, a red chip, and a blue chip.

‘How many chips?’

‘However many you want. Boss always insists he go first.’ There was a glare involved.

’10 million.’

‘Can’t you lower the amount?’ Uncle Mamo never did have as much money as the others. But…

‘If you don’t have enough money you can leave. Or are you so poor that you have to use our money to live in this hotel?’ It was rare to see Uncle Soryu smirk so evilly.

But Uncle Soryu always “convinced” him to continue. And Uncle Mamo always rose to the bait.

He threw another red chip into the middle. Raising the stakes.

‘Ooooohhh, Mamo is getting ready to win!’

‘Even though we all know he’s going to lose. Just like you Baba! The old men always lose.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Hey! That’s so rude Ota!’

The game was under way, with Dad and Uncle Baba giving audible instructions on how to play. I suppose this game was what shaped me into the Tres Spades Casino Queen when an international poker competition was held at the hotel.

‘Alright, time to show hands.’

I remember lifting up my hands as if it was an order. I also remember everyone laughing because of my hands.

‘Not your real hands. The cards.’

‘Ooooohhhh.’ You can imagine how red I was and how deeply I had buried my face into the pillow on my lap.

Uncle Mamo lost, Uncle Ota had a Three of a Kind and Uncle Baba had One Pair.

It was down to Uncle Soryu and Dad.

‘If you win, you can have the property you’ve been pinning for.’

‘Very funny.’

Uncle Soryu had a Full House.

Dad had a Royal Straight Flush.

‘So… who won?’

Throughout the games that afternoon, I was snuggling closer and closer to Dad’s body. And, for once, he didn’t push me away.

I was grateful for it.

*

‘Here you go Dad! All neatly organised in alfabetisal order.’

‘Alphabetical order.’

‘That’s what I said, alfapetical order.’

‘……….’ I knew Dad was sighing inwardly but I was content with life at the time. I didn’t know the danger that would happen hours later.

For a while, Dad decided to put me to work, to make up for the fact that I couldn’t pay to stay in the hotel. It was a bit dick-ish on his part but at least he didn’t sell me at the auctions. Eventually, he became more caring towards me as time went on. Waking me up when I had nightmares, patting me on the head, allowing me to help clean the paper work in his office. He even took me outside once on an exploration trip to see potential buyers and land to put the Ichinomiya name on.

I thought that I could finally be free from the pain I received. For a little while, I forgot why I had run away and why I was broken. But they reminded me of what my worth was.

‘Baba and Ota are taking me shopping. Should I get you something?’

‘If you want to.’

‘Like what?’

‘Whatever you think I will like. And if I don’t like it, I will tell you.’

‘Yeah, okay. Alright, I’ll be back later! Don’t work too hard!’ I waved my hands at the doorway to the purple man behind the desk. He didn’t look up.

‘Why am I here?’ Uncle Mamo whined.

‘Because you were sleeping. You need to do more than just eating and sleeping.’ Uncle Baba said behind the steering wheel.

‘I have work to do!’

‘You don’t have a job!’ Uncle Ota declared.

‘Yes I do kid!’

I couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of me. Uncle Baba decided that we should all hang out for dinner and try his new recipe of dumpling stew so he dragged us out to go shopping. But apparently I was too curious for my own good. It wasn’t long before I had wandered off to a different section of the shop that I felt a hand cover my mouth with a drugged napkin. I saw them pass by a corner before slipping into unconsciousness.

I hated myself for believing that I had a chance to live freely.

*

I remember waking up in a warehouse. I was chained to the ground with cuffs around my ankles and wrists. The stone ground was cold and miserable. I had to force myself to sit up and was instantly sick on the floor beside me.

‘She’s awake.’

‘I can see that idiot. Call the woman.’

When I was done, I looked up to see masked figures and screamed. They wore grizzly bear masks but not the fun-loving cartoon kind. They had tortured looks on their faces and blood seemed to seep out of the eye hole cut outs. A 7-year-old’s imagination can speed towards any direction but I knew better. They were symbols of the family I had left behind.

I backed into the wall behind me, hoping that the wall would open up and I could get away.

‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble young missy. You’re mum is very worried about you. Why don’t you speak with her, you little rat? Hm?’ A raspy voice floated out of the mask but I couldn’t move my hands close enough to my ears. The man reached out towards me but I took a bite into his fingers before they could touch me.

‘Ah! Damn you!’ He stood up quickly, cradling his right hand, and kicked me in my ribs. He threw down a punch on my left cheek for good measure before stomping off.

I was so used to the pain that I stopped crying out back then. But I guess staying with the bidders softened me too much. I sobbed quietly, feeling a thin stream of blood trickle down my face, and remembering the masks.

They were quite literally called The Family. I was born into it after my “father” slept with his mistress while his wife was giving birth to his third child. Illegitimate and alone, I was abused mercilessly by my half-siblings and their mother. Father didn’t care about me, he only lived for women and alcohol. But he kept an iron-fist over a torturous empire dedicated to illegal smuggling of organs. They used the bloody bear masks to practically scare their victims to death.

They were proud butchers. All of them. I was ashamed of the torture that it became a threat to my life every day.

Death was at my doorstep until I could take it no more.

‘You disgusting child, you never should have been born!’

Finally, she broke after her children accused me of attempting to steal money from their safe. They all knew it wasn’t true. She knew it was not true. She reminded me my place in this world when she drew a katana out and slashed it down my eye.

It wouldn’t be until I meet Uncle Luke Foster, who gave me a new eye and got rid of the scar, where I erase all traces of The Family.

‘The woman said to cut up her body for parts and organs. There is an auction nearby where we can sell them.’

I know now that they were talking about Dad’s auctions but luckily for me, I would never be put on that stage, dead or alive.

Before the bone-saw was even picked up from a medical cart, the screeches of car tires echoed faintly. The ground seemed to rumble like an approaching earthquake when suddenly, Uncle Soryu’s black Bentley tore through the main doors, forcing it off its hinges completely.

Dust lifted up and invaded our lungs as gravity set in and plunged the remains of the doors into the ground. The car doors opened and Dad came out in such a stylish manner that I thought I was in a movie.

‘Kiki…’

‘Eisuke!’ We looked at each other for a brief moment, a brief look of anger on his face, before he turned to see the man standing by me with the saw.

Dad stepped forward with a briefcase when one of the henchmen pointed his gun at him.

‘Don’t move!’

‘Eisuke!’ Uncle Soryu had his gun on the henchmen who immediately started shaking under his intense gaze.

Dad opened the briefcase and slid it forward.

‘$30 million in cash. If you give me the girl.’

They started mumbling and whispering, wondering what to do. It was clear the money Dad offered was substantially more than what they were originally being paid. But what would a famous billionaire hotel mogul want with a battered child? Looking to their leader, many of the men waited for an answer.

He looked down at me for a moment but I didn’t dare make eye contact.

‘Fine. Take her. She’s as good as dead anyway.’ The masked man threw the saw down and slowly crept up to the briefcase. He kneeled down when a shout came from the back of the warehouse. A large group of men appeared from the shadows with guns aimed at the heads of the henchmen.

‘Don’t shoot! Drop your weapons and get down!’

‘Wha-‘ Uncle Soryu moved quickly and bashed his gun onto the man’s head. He fell unconscious.

‘Don’t be so surprised. The Ice Dragons can be very useful at times like these.’ Dad had a smug look on his face; he knew he had won.

‘Mafia?!’

‘The Ice Dragons?!’

‘What are they doing in Japan?!’

The henchmen struggled and muttered and whined as the Ice Dragons led them away.

‘What should I do with them?’ Uncle Soryu handcuffed the man and forced him to stand on his feet.

‘The usual.’

‘Fine.’

‘Hey princess, let’s get you out of there.’ Uncle Baba’s voice came from one of the masks and I almost screamed again.

‘Don’t worry! Look!’ He took it off and I was relieved.

‘Baba…’ He unlocked the cuffs and Dad helped me stand up.

‘How did yo-‘

‘After you went missing, we did some digging around.’ Uncle Baba said, dropping the mask onto the ground.

‘We found out about The Family and traced you to here.’ Uncle Soryu came forward after handing the unconscious leader to Uncle Inui.

‘How though?’

‘The pager Eisuke gave you.’ Uncle Ota pointed to the object in my pocket.

I looked up at the man.

‘I never lose what belongs to me.’

‘We were lucky they didn’t take the pager from you. We’re glad that you’re safe.’ Uncle Soryu smiled at me.

‘You came to save me?’ I grasped Dad’s hand and asked in a small voice.

‘What kind of owner would I be if I let you get yourself kidnapped?’ I heard groans from the others.

‘Eisuke….’

‘Boss, she’s not a pet.’

‘Hey, Koro belongs to all of us. Not just you Eisuke.’

‘Eisuke?’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Can I stay with you?’

Dad looked mildly taken aback but he regained his composure, took out his pocket handkerchief and dabbed it on my cheek.

‘Ow…’

‘Stay still.’

‘Yes, stay very still for me.’

We all turned our heads to the sound of the new voice. He stood there in front of the car. The glare of the knife against the moonlight shot into my eyes. I blinked multiple times in the hopes that I had imagined him. My birth father stood there glaring at me alone, ignoring the Ice Dragons around him.

‘Stay very still while I cut you up into thousands of little pieces you damned hell spawn.’ He spat out those words that I knew so well while I quivered. He was capable of violence in every way. There were many times when he killed servants or subordinates out of anger. He was even worse when drunk, I never forgot the day when he stumbled in intoxicated and killed my mother in front of me.

‘He’s mad.’ I heard Dad whisper as he positioned himself in front of me. Shielding me.

‘You’ll have to get through me if you want her.’ Dad stood his ground and stared the crazed man down, something no one has ever done. But all it did was enrage him further.

Everything happened so fast that day, that everything is still hazy even after 15 years. He charged at Dad while gun shots rung across the warehouse. Uncle Soryu stopped him, dodged the knife, and grabbed his wrist, pinning it behind him. But that man got free and elbowed Uncle Soryu in his stomach. Suddenly, they were grappling with a gun and, as Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota tried to get me away, a single shot hit me.

‘KIKI!’ I remember falling to the ground clutching my side and hearing the yells of everyone around me. Dad’s face was the last thing I saw before blacking out.

I thought I was dead for real; I guess he almost made good on his promise to kill me.

*

In the end, I never saw The Family again. While Dad was bribing the henchmen hired by my step-mother, Uncle Mamo and the police arrested The Family using proof given by Uncle Baba’s sources. Apparently, he smelled of alcohol too that night so to hear that Dad killed my birth-father gave me a sense of peace that I didn’t know I had the capacity to feel.

I spent 2 week recovering in a private hospital. I was grateful. They never left me alone, always watching over me. The bullet wound did a lot more damage than the staff thought but they patched me up really well. Later, I would ask Dad to send small gifts to them as a thank you for looking after me. One of the nurses said that I nearly died on the operating table and that it was a miracle I pulled through at all.

‘You must have a big will to live, my dear. I’m sure there is someone you are living for in this life.’

I was unconscious for a while in the hospital after the operation. But I clearly remember the things that Dad said when he thought I was asleep.

‘Getting yourself kidnapped, getting yourself shot, nearly dying during surgery, you’ve lived through so many incidents. That’s not even mentioning the abuse you suffered growing up. He was mad. Very mad. I saw it in his eyes the hate he had for you, for the world. A man like that never survives. Only people like you. People who brave through situations, no matter how horrible or tragic, get to live in this world. I should know.’

I felt my hand enclosed in his hands.

‘I lost my family when I was your age. But I was taken in by my adopted father who was a close friend of my dad’s. He raised me, gave me a home, and taught me how to take care of myself. I repaid all of his kindness for giving me a new chance at life. Now I want to do the same thing for you. You asked if you could stay with me. I don’t intend to let you go, not after all this. I promise I will raise you the same way Akira raised me so that you can say that you made it through your trauma. That you deserve a new chance at life. Besides, Baba would have my head if I let you go now. You’ve really wiggled your way into our hearts Kiki. And it’s not a bad thing.’

‘Eisuke? I’ll look after her, you can go back to the hotel.’ Uncle Mamo walked into the private suite, so I couldn’t answer him. But in my heart, I already did.

‘You alright?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘She’s a tough kid. She’ll wake up soon.’

‘Oh I know. I doubt after all this, she would give up that easily.’ The door closed as Dad left the hospital.

I never forgot his words but I also didn’t ever tell him I knew. Maybe he sensed that I was awake but didn’t say. Dad never mentioned it and I was too shy to bring it up.

Eventually, the wounds healed but my body was still scarred. I went back to the hotel after what felt like forever. They held a little party to celebrate my return but I think they just wanted an excuse to drink. The way they drunk alcohol was very different to what I was originally used to. For a moment, I thought they would become like my birth-father, but it turns out maybe he was just a violent drunk.

Hours later, Uncle Mamo started sobbing and Uncle Baba reflected on the meaning of life, often asking me if I knew the theory of evolution. I was 7 years old.

Uncle Ota went to sleep and Uncle Soryu only shook his head disapprovingly at the mess in front of him. Dad gave me orange juice and snacks until I started feeling sleepy. He carried me upstairs in his arms. I woke up cuddling Dad in his room the next morning.

I finally found the home that I had always wanted.

*

After Dad and I got ready in the morning, Mr Kenzaki came to the penthouse.

‘It is good to see you’re back in high spirits again Kiki.’

‘Thank you!’ I said while eating an apple.

‘Here sir, the documents you requested has arrived.’ He handed over a black folder and Dad opened it.

‘Good. You can leave.’

Mr Kenzaki bowed and I waved goodbye.

‘Kiki. Come here.’

I got off my seat on the couch and stood in front of him. Dad un-crossed his legs, turned me around and lifted me up onto his lap.

‘Bwah!’

‘Pfft, are you comfortable?’

‘Oh, yes!’ I replied, looking up at his face. He placed his hand on my head and turned it towards the black folder.

‘Do you know what this is?’

‘Important documents?’

‘Yes. Do you know what of?’

‘For new property?’

‘No.’

‘A contract with another company?’

‘No.’

‘A restraining order on Uncle Baba?’

‘Pfft, if only.’ Dad chuckled.

‘Then what is it?’

Dad put the folder on the couch and adjusted me around so that I could see him.

‘They are adoption papers.’

At the time, my brain blanked out for a second. I had absolutely no idea what it meant. Then it clicked.

‘Who are you adopting?’

‘You know the answer to this, dummy.’ Dad laughed at my dumb question and I asked another.

‘You’ll let me stay?’

‘You don’t need to live in fear anymore Kiki. I will raise you to become my heir to the Ichinomiya Group and the Tres Spades Hotel. There will be hardships but I’m not about to allow you to go.’ He smiled a rare smile at me. I cried horribly ugly kid tears. All the tension in my life suddenly melted away when Dad held me tight to his chest. He patted my head as I sobbed my heart out.

‘You don’t have a choice in the matter.’

You have no idea how many times he says this exact line, or maybe you do. It is indescribable the feelings and emotions I had that day. Somehow, I found myself a new family and a new father who would look after me and love me like a real father. I believed that the idea of a family didn’t exist but the truth is that it does. You just have to know where to look.

Mum was added into my family a year later. A year after that, Uncle Luke, Uncle Shu, and Uncle Hikaru completed my family.

*

Hi, my name is Kiki Ichinomiya, President of the Ichinomiya Group.

And I am the heir to the Hotel King’s legacy.

[mrcleanheichou]

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

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1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live. 

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him  two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”