#I have been getting email notifications all day long on Saturday from this guy

[ohgaylor]

oh my gosh I am dealing with the. worst. client on earth. uuuugggghhh 😤

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 5 - Part One

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,182

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

May 2021

The furious scratching sound of Nat’s graphite pencil was the only thing that could be heard in her office as the California sunshine poured through the big windows. She could see by the dent in the fibers of her paper that she was pushing down too hard as she worked on some of the character sketches on her to-do list, but when she glanced over at her phone, she knew exactly why she was holding the pencil with such force. 

Nat knew that she should just close her phone, after all it wasn’t as if she’d missed a text from Chris with as many times as she’d checked their text thread over the weekend. But it still was just as quiet as it had been since Saturday when Chris had texted her to tell her something came up and he couldn’t meet her after all. At first Nat hadn’t given it much thought, knowing with the way they had kissed and flirted that Friday night that his longing to see her the next day had been authentic. But when the calendar had flipped from Saturday to Sunday, and now to Monday and still no word from Chris, she realized she’d officially been given the brush off. 

It wasn’t a new feeling for her, and she knew it deep deep down that the fleeting chance they’d held together was gone. He’d come to his senses and realized Nat was, as many had before, not good enough for even the guy in the apartment down the street, nevertheless the man in the sprawling home perched on the edge of Laurel Canyon, who made more money from a single movie than Nat could ever hope to make in her career. She was used to getting close to someone, only to have them realize that she was just too much to handle, not ever being able to fully understand her and looking for a way out and it seemed that Chris was no different. 

But that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt. 

She hated to admit just how much it was bothering her, wishing she had just stuck with her more recent realization that she’d be better off alone for the rest of her life and not given a second thought to Chris. If she had, it’d be saving her the pain she was feeling. Nat reached over and quickly exited out of the text conversation, hating how it felt as if it was taunting her and shoved her phone in her purse, realizing it was about time to leave. 

Even with the disappointment she felt in her heart at the moment, she knew that there was a man in her life that had never disappointed her and she was on her way to pick him up right now. She’d spent the entire morning watching her notifications not only for a text from Chris, but also for the flight updates from her dad’s airline, and just as she’d gotten up, her phone buzzed with the final update that his flight was about to land.

Making her way out of her office and down the hall, she poked her head into Jamie’s office, just as some of the other department head’s left the manager’s meeting in his office. “Hey Jamie, I’m headed out to pick up my dad,” she reminded him, shifting the bag on her shoulder as his head popped up from where he’d been typing an email. 

His brows were furrowed for a split second until he nodded, reminding himself, “Oh that’s right, he’s coming today.” 

“Yep and he’s staying until Saturday morning so I get almost a week with him,” she grinned, unable to suppress the happiness she felt at that. It’d been a long and lonely few months in Los Angeles, going from working in-office and living with Shane prior to lockdown, to moving home and surrounding herself with her family during quarantine, until she finally moved back to California in the late fall. And while it certainly had been an adjustment now, she had begun to realize what life would be like in her new reality only once she’d returned to working on campus in the early spring. 

“That’s so great Nat, I’m excited for you,” he smiled at her, and Nat knew just how truly happy he was for her. Both Jamie and Mark were the people she was closest to outside of her family and had been for years, so they knew just how much it meant to her to have this time with her dad. Nat stayed leaning against the doorframe when Jamie asked, “Are you taking the day off or are you coming back?” 

“No, I’ll be back today. Dad is going to just hang out in my office and read his book so I’ll see you in a little while,” she explained, and as her phone chimed with a text from her dad – presumably telling her they landed. With a rushed smile, hurried goodbye and a repeated promise to come back to finish out the day, she headed out to her car and headed out of the campus. 

Nat dumped her bag into the passenger seat before starting the car and heading toward the exit of the parking garage, but she hadn’t even been able to pull out onto the road when the phone ringing chimed loudly through the speakers in her car. She smiled as she saw Heather’s name on the call, knowing it was time for the traditional Marton sisters Monday lunch break phone call. 

She barely began to say hello to her oldest sister when Heather interrupted her, asking, “Is dad there yet?”

“No, I’m on my way to the airport to get him now,” she replied as she slowed to a stop at a red light. 

The phone beeped momentarily before Alex’s voice filled the car’s speakers as she said, “Hey, I’m here! What did I miss?” 

“Nothing, we just started,” Heather informed her. “I’m pretty surprised Nat doesn’t sound more excited about dad almost being there. I figured you’d be bouncing off the walls, Nattie.” 

“I know, there hasn’t been a day in the past month that you haven’t mentioned it in the group text,” she could hear Alex laughing from the other end of the call. 

Nat slid her black sunglasses on her face before pulling onto the freeway, running a hand through her thick curls before being unable to hold her feelings in and told them, “I am excited, I’m just having an emotional crisis.”

“A real one or a Nat version?”

She tilted her head at the comment, laughing at her eldest sister’s comment before wondering, “What’s a Nat version?”

Heather scoffed, supplying, “When you get in your artist mood and feel all nostalgic or cry over a pretty tree or some shit.” 

“No this is real,” Nat shook her head even though she knew that neither of her sisters could see her. 

Her sisters were silent for a moment until Alex quietly asked her, “Is it a guy?” 

Nat sighed, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she slowed to a stop as she waited to get off the freeway. “Well-“ 

“Oh my god it is! Who is it? What’s going on?” She immediately recognized Alex’s voice as she rapidly fired her questions, interrupting Nat without a care in the world. 

Nat hesitated, unsure how much to open up to her sisters. While she feared sharing her thoughts would speak her worries into existence, she needed some advice. Finally, she began, “Do you remember my friend Chris I mentioned?”

“No, who is that?” Heather wondered, not being able to keep it all straight between her hectic job, kids, and keeping up with Nat and Alex’s lives. 

“He’s the co-worker,” Alex piped in before Nat could even answer and then quickly demanded,  “Okay hurry up and spill, I need to know.” 

“I just don’t know what’s going on,” she confessed with a huff, frowning as she drove through an intersection. “We’ve been friends for a little while now and a few times it’s felt flirty but I wasn’t sure.” 

“Flirty as in what he’s said or how he acted?” Heather tried to clarify.

“Both,” Nat answered, quiet as she tried to gauge their reactions. “But then on Friday we kissed.”

Alex let out a low whistle, causing Nat to purse her lips as her sister murmured, “You could have led with that.”

Nat couldn’t repress the smile and her fond eye roll at Alex’s statement. “But here’s the weird thing. So we were flirting a lot at Mark’s birthday party on Friday and then we just were like touching and well just flirting I guess. Then he walked me to my Uber and we kissed,” she explained quietly. 

“Have you seen him since?” Alex asked, her voice curious. 

“That’s the weird thing,” she told them while finally turning off at the right exit. Nat still couldn't figure all of this out in her brain and hope that her elder sisters could tell her something she missed and explained, “He seemed so into it and brought up us getting together the next day but then he texted me Saturday and said something came up with work and I haven’t heard from him since.” 

The line was quiet for a moment before Heather muttered, “Yikes.”

“See? I knew it was bad!” Nat’s left hand flew off the steering wheel as she tossed it in the air, deflating into her seat with a sigh as she asked them, “He’s giving me the brush off isn’t he?”

“I won’t lie, Nattie, it kind of sounds like it,” Alex hated to admit it. 

Although it wasn’t surprising to her, Nat still was hopeful that maybe their answer would somehow be something different. A long sigh escaped her before she muttered, “I’m not really surprised. He’s out of my league anyway,”

“Maybe it was something with work though, I mean, it is only Monday afternoon,” Heather pointed out, but she knew her eldest sister well enough to know that she was trying to cheer her up and soften the blow. 

“It’s just so unlike him to just not say anything though,” she conveyed, knowing that it was true. In the few months they’d known each other, she had come to learn just how vocal Chris was, their text chain rarely lying silent for more than a few hours. “I just don’t know how to read this whole situation.” 

“Don’t text him, let him be the one to pursue you or not, that way you’ll know,” Alex tried to guide her younger sister, speaking from her own experience. 

Nat hated how much this hurt. She didn’t want to be attached to someone like this again and hated that she’d let herself fall for someone so unattainable so easily, telling her sisters in a defeated tone, “After Shane I didn’t even want another relationship and this is partly why.” 

“Honestly I was a little surprised when you called and said it was about a guy. I just didn’t think you wanted to be involved with someone yet,” Heather admitted, knowing that the facts didn’t all line up. 

“I didn’t… but things with Chris just sort of… happened, I guess. Or I thought they did,” Nat furiously blinked her eyes as she kept driving toward the airport, hating that she could feel tears trying to sting at her eyes. 

The line was quiet for a long moment before Heather wondered, “… You really like him, don’t you Nattie?” 

“I wish I could say no, but I can’t,” Nat knew it was the truth. She wanted nothing more than to say it didn’t bother her but she knew that’d be a lie. She didn’t know how she’d ended up in this position, hating how easily Chris had become a fixture in her life, which only made it hurt that much more when she was met with his sudden rejection. “I don’t know, it doesn’t really matter anymore obviously but thanks for listening.” 

“Of course, we love you Nattie,” Heather told her, the sympathy in her voice hurting Nat’s heart even more. “And who knows, maybe things will work out.” 

With a small roll of her eyes, Nat muttered, “I doubt that.” 

Nat was thankful when the conversation shifted to Alex filling them both in on the latest funny things her son had said and Heather adding in her own anecdotes about her children, only making Nat longing to just be with all of them right now. But the melancholy feeling that had plagued her the past few days and hidden her normal sunny demeanor was quickly gone when she saw her dad walking toward her car with a suitcase in hand. It took Nat no more than two seconds to get out of the car and nearly tackle her father in a hug, needing his love and presence so dearly. 

The drive back to the Disney Campus felt as though it flew by as she and her dad caught up on what little time had passed since they’d spoken in detail with each other. As they pulled into the employee lot next to her building, Nat told him about what was going on at work, about her meetings earlier in the morning, and what the rest of her day looked like. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she admitted as she put her car into park, turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition with a sigh, feeling every last bit of tension from the situation with Chris leave her body as she looked at her smiling dad. 

Eric looked at her with a grin that became a smirk as he joked, “Me too, you’ve escaped my dad jokes long enough.” 

“Oh you mean the ones you text me almost every day?” 

“Yeah but now you get them in person,” he shrugged, following Nat’s lead as they got out of the car. With a quick stop at her trunk to grab his suitcase, they headed into Nat’s building to drop their things before going to grab lunch at the commissary. 

As they made their way down the sidewalk into the building, Nat bumped her shoulder against his as she honestly said, “I’ll take it if that means I get to have you here.” 

Eric was quiet as they made their way into the elevator and Nat felt thankful the doors slipped close without anyone else joining him when he asked, “...You okay Nattie?” 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, unable to make herself seem more convincing than that. “I’m just being me, I guess. I’m just feeling emotional.” 

“About what?” He asked her quietly as the beeping of the elevator passing floors echoed in the small space. 

“Just… a lot of things,” she sighed with a shrug, shifting uncomfortably as the anxieties flooded her again. “Coming back here after the pandemic was just a lot harder than I expected.” 

“Just adjusting again? Or what do you mean, Nattie?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She’d been struggling and all but spiraling since Chris flaked out on her last minute on Saturday, but it hadn’t been helped by the already-present thoughts in her mind. She missed home, she missed being around her family, and she missed getting to share her days with someone that wasn’t Mark or Jamie. Heather had Ryan and Alex had Zach, and for five years she had Shane, but even a year later she was struggling to reconcile with what her new reality looked like, especially in this new world. “I guess that ever since I came to California I’ve been just so involved in my job. You know that I love what I do, it’s truly my dream, but I guess with everything happening with Shane and then spending so much time back at home, now coming back here and getting back to my normal life, it’s just made me kind of wonder if this is really what I want the rest of my life to be?” 

They were quiet as they made their way out of the elevator and a short distance down the hallway before they stopped at Nat’s office. Once the door shut behind them, she avoided his eyes, knowing he was worried as he quietly asked her, “Are you thinking of quitting?” 

“No, it’s not that. I think just coming back here has made me realize that I’m… lonely,” she shrugged, dropping her stuff quickly before she grabbed her wallet and work badge out of her bag as she hung it over her chair. “I just see Heather and Alex with their families and I just want what they have. I want my life to be more than just my job.” 

Eric nodded, following Nat once he’d rolled his suitcase next to her couch. “That’s normal to feel, Nattie. Most people do want a family of some sort, I think you’ve just been too busy for so many years that you haven’t noticed,” he explained, falling into step with her again as they popped back out of her office and into the hallway, retracing their steps back outside. 

She was silent on the elevator as some interns joined them on the ride down to the lobby, not wanting many people to overhear it. “You’re probably right,” she finally told him as they stepped back out into the California sunshine, her arms wrapping around herself as she led her dad to the commissary. 

He huffed out a laugh and a grin had settled on his lips when Nat turned his head to look at him. “I usually am,” he reminded her. 

“I would argue with that but sadly it’s true,” she laughed in agreement, pulling open the doors to the commissary and leading him inside.“I think for now I just want to try to take a little more time off work and come home more often. I’m planning on coming home for Ella’s 9th birthday since Heather said she was going to do a family party. Maybe if I spend more time at home then I won’t feel this way as much.” 

Eric laughed again as he reached for a tray and followed Nat through the crowded employee hall, his eyes taking in the different offerings. “I don’t know, with the way Alex’s pregnancy hormones have been lately, I think the more time you spend around us, the more you’ll be happy to come back to California,” he joked as he reached for a turkey sandwich. 

Once they’d each picked out their lunches and he’d insisted on buying her lunch, they found a table tucked in a back corner, sitting down across from each other. He’d begun catching her up on the latest things going on back at home, the funny stories he’d heard at work and the newest gossip from the neighborhood but halfway through one of his stories, Nat’s eyes drifted from looking at her father across the table and landed on a tall frame that was walking toward their table. 

“Chris?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she quickly wiped her face with a napkin. “Um hi, I didn’t uh, expect to see you here today. Is there something for Lightyear going on today?” 

“No, I have a late shoot tonight and so I just wanted to stop by to see you. I went to your office but Mark told me you were here,” he explained, an awkward look on his face as he met her eyes before gesturing between her and her dad. “Am I interrupting?” 

“No, no, sorry, this is my dad, Eric. And dad, this is my friend Chris,” she introduced them, watching as Chris easily charmed the man. 

“It’s so nice to meet you Eric, I’ve heard so much about you from Nat that I feel like I know you.” 

“Well I always love to get to meet Nattie’s friends,” Eric joked before gesturing to the empty chair next to Nat. “You should join us for lunch.”

“Oh I don’t want to interrupt and I really don’t have too long anyway,” he politely declined  “Nat, can I steal you for just a minute?” 

She was quiet, looking to her dad for a second, but he gave her a reassuring smile and waved his hand, “Go ahead, Nattie. I’ll be here.” 

“Okay,” she murmured, taking a drink of her water before she followed Chris through the busy commissary. Luckily, everyone else in there was too preoccupied to notice the brunette in front of her and they slipped out the doors without a second glance, but Nat paid it no mind as she fiddled anxiously until they stopped walking once they made it away from the busy entrance of the building.  

He turned to her, frustratingly silent. Nat watched as his eyes moved from her to his feet, then finally she told him, “I didn’t expect to see you today.” 

“Well I wanted to come by and apologize for not being able to get together this weekend because-”

She held up a hand and shook her head, her voice quiet as she – despite how she truly felt – said, “Chris, it’s really fine, you don’t have to explain. It’s not a big deal.” 

“It is to me because I really wanted to see you. There was an issue with lighting in a scene but they only had the location until Monday so we had to do a reshoot this weekend which nobody was expecting and that’s why I wasn’t available. We were so slammed I didn’t even get a chance to call you,” he explained, pausing as he met her eyes and shrugged, a deep frown on his face. “I’m really really sorry, Nat.” 

“It’s okay, I understand,” she assured him, feeling the last bit of tension she’d been holding deep in her body leave at his explanation – it’d been nothing more than a shitty last minute reshoot, it wasn’t him changing his mind. With a smirk and a slight shrug of her shoulders, she added, “Although I was starting to think that maybe everything on Friday was just because you can’t hold your liquor.” 

Chris raised a single brow as a smirk appeared on his face as well, reminding her, “I believe we had this conversation before and I think we both know a Bostonian can handle plenty…” 

“I’m not so sure about that anymore,” she shot back, relieved at the way they effortlessly slipped back into their banter.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then,” he told her with a jut of his chin. “How long is your dad here for?” 

“I’m dropping him at the airport on Saturday morning.” 

“Oh,” he paused, nodding before he shrugged and – all too casually –  added, “I’m leavin’ on Sunday for Europe to do some filming… I’m having a party on Saturday night though for a few friends so if you’re free, I’d love it if you came.” 

Nat took a second to school her expression, feeling those flutters from Friday night again at his offer. “Well I feel it’s my duty to come and see you proven wrong,” she sarcastically replied.

“It really is,” he chuckled before nodding to himself. “So I’ll see you Saturday, then.” 

She nodded as she watched a few squirrels on the large green space across from them, but then turned her head and told him, “I’m not sure you should keep going around saying things like that. Last time you did, you blew me off.” 

“Very funny,” he rolled his eyes with a smirk that told her everything she needed to know. He shoved his hands in his pockets for a moment as he looked around, then sighed and said, “I hope you have a good time with your dad this week, Nat.” 

“Thanks, I will,” she told him, touching his arm for a moment and getting his attention. “And thanks again for coming by today.” 

He nodded with a tiny shrug, then said, “Of course… bye Nat.”

Nat stood there as she just watched the look on his handsome face, seeing that beautiful soft smile on his face before he reached out and rested a hand on her arm, spreading warmth throughout Nat’s body before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. She could smell that musky cologne of his so well with his body being this close and it didn’t go unnoticed by her the way that he lingered his face next to her, waiting for a moment to read her body language but Nat didn’t want to wait any longer and turned her head to look up at him and lean in to kiss his lips in such a different way than the few days before. This wasn’t passionate and full of need like it was on Friday. This kiss was different. It was soft and gentle but somehow felt… intimate. As if they finally were being completely transparent about how they felt about one another, even if they didn’t need words to do it and suddenly Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. 

A/N: We can't wait for Thursday's chapter!!! As a reminder, next week we will NOT be posting In Living Color due to the holidays, but we do have something planned, so keep an eye out!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[say-the-name-sebongie]

Stereo Hearts

Synopsis: Silence can drive a person mad which makes radio like some sort of hero. It just takes a while to find the right station to listen to. Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader Genre: fluff, collegeAU!Jihoon Warnings: noneeee Word Count: 1.6k words a/n: pls pretend spotify doesn't exist yet and yes this was kinda inspired by radio rebel

_____ silently thanked whoever created the radio. She thought that she would go crazy from the silence of the room she was in. The fact that her roommate was always grouchy and complained that she couldn't do anything if there were any "annoying" sounds made it hard for her to study in their shared room. She couldn't complain about it because the free dorm room that came with the scholarship was more than she could as for. So that left her to study in the dorm common room, earphones plugged into her phone and its radio tuned on some old radio station nobody listened to anymore.

Unfortunately for her, the songs that played on the radio these days didn't have any essence. They were either about having sex or were just pure electronic noise if they weren't memes. None of which helped her study. Sure there were some good songs but that only came on the radio every few weeks. So she had no choice but to go back to her routine of ever maddening silence.

On her way to class one day, she saw a poster on the notification board at the school entrance about the launch of the university's first radio station.

"I didn't know the university had its own radio station," she mumbled to herself. The bell rang and she left the poster behind, taking note of the station numbers and promising herself that she would check out the newfound radio station after class. Station 5.26.

That night she calibrated her phone radio until she heard a voice crackling in her earphones.

" -again guys to Station 5.26, University Radio. I have to get out of here to give my shift over to DJ Woozi so here's Fly Me To The Moon by good old Frank Sinatra. Good night!"

Old-timey music wafted into her ears as Frank Sinatra sang. The girl smiled. Now there was some good music. She took her books out of her bag and started going through what she had learned that day.

Studying became a joy more than a job when she listened to University Radio. Her favorite segment was the one hosted by DJ Woozi, who she heard was a student in the university. She had fallen in love with his impeccable taste in music, ranging from hard rock and hip hop to orchestral music and old classics. But that wasn't the only thing she had fallen in love with.

Hearing his voice over the crackly speakers of her phone made her feel better. A day hadn't gone since discovering that radio station that she didn't listen to his segment, Simple Radio, all night. Even if it ended at 3am, she couldn't finish her day without hearing him sign off with his signature "Goodbye guys, and may the simplest things make you smile today."

He was her vitamin. And though she had never even seen him yet, one could say that she had fallen for him.

Which is why she was devastated to hear that the station would be offline for the duration of the coming school break.

Over spring break she could think of nothing but going back to school. Most students wouldn't want their days of vacation to end but _____ was itching for the new term to arrive.

After an eternity, the day classes resumed came. As she sat in the back of her father's car, she could barely hear him talk about how he had gotten an email from the university about new dorm arrangements. Her mind was off in another place, some specific radio booth to be exact. As soon as they stopped at the school gate she hurried out of the car, not even bothering to give her bewildered father a second look.

A bunch of students were crowding the notification board, blocking the entrance. When she got to the front of the crowd she saw that the dorm rooms offered by the university were shuffled, including her dorm room.

To: The Students

Re: Dorm Room Assignments

Dear Beloved Students,

The faculty has come to a decision to rearrange the existing dorm rooms from being separated by gender to a co-ed arrangement. This is to ensure that we make the most of the space that is allotted for the dormitory rooms. Posted below are the said room assignments.

Thank you for your cooperation.

_____ scanned the list until she found her name. Room 17, Building B. Under that was another name equating to the same dorm. Lee Jihoon. From an annoyingly sensitive girl to some strange guy she had never met, her dorm life was never boring.

She dragged her luggage to Building B, hurrying so she could turn on her radio again. Heaving a sigh in front of room number 17, she opened the door to reveal a room with two beds and a boy in front of his laptop on one of the desks that were pushed against the wall. He had brightly colored hair buried under a big pair of headphones, his fingers tapping on the desk as he listened to something on his laptop.

As quietly as she could, _____ snuck into the room. She must have been noisier than she thought because he turned around to face her. His surprisingly handsome features gathering in confusion before they softened into understanding.

"You're _____, right?" he said, his hand slightly hesitating whether it should hold itself out for her to shake or not. The girl smiled and nodded before shaking his hand which he finally decided to stretch out. He smiled, his starry eyes disappearing into half-moons. Maybe this guy was better than her last dormmate.

Over the next few weeks, she and Jihoon became friends. Meeting up outside of class and talking about absolutely anything. _____ was glad to not be in the company of someone who hated listening to music. Blasting music in their dorm room was something they both enjoyed. She and Jihoon even shared the same favorite artists so picking which songs to play was never an issue.

There was something about the boy that felt so familiar as if she had met him before. She couldn't deny the fact that she liked being with him. Not even to herself. Being with him almost made her forget about her favorite radio station.

Almost.

On one early Saturday morning, she was alone in the dorm listening to Station 5.26 yet again when Jihoon came through the door from his part-time job. "Hey." she greeted him, not bothering to remove her earphones or even look up at her roommate.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, walking to her side and peeking at her phone screen. _____ turned her phone slightly to show the boy. He turned to look at her, a surprised look on his face.

"You listen to University Radio too?" Jihoon asked her incredulously. Enthusiastic about finding another common thing between them she started gushing about how she found the radio stations and how much she loved it over all the more mainstream stations.

Her roommate just smiled as she talked, silently taking in everything she said as he put his bag down and sat on his bed. The boy stared at her smiling face and blushing cheeks, hands that moved with every word she said, dainty fingers that pointed to nowhere in particular as she spoke, eyes that shone and sparkled and luscious pink lips that he just wanted to-

The boy pinched himself out of his daydream. He couldn't be crushing on his roommate right now.

It didn't take long for her to start talking about Simple Radio and DJ Woozi. Jihoon's eyes lit up when she mentioned it. _____ spilled everything she had kept to herself, from her love for his taste in music to her embarrassing crush on him. It all came spilling out. She felt as if she could trust Jihoon with them. As her secrets came to the light, the boy's eyes became wider and wider.

"Hey, you know I work for the university radio station, you wanna come along to my shift tonight?" he offered her. His roommate immediately agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and thanking him again and again. His cheeks burned, a reddish tint left on them when she let go.

That night they got ready to go out. _____ could hardly believe her luck. It was almost 9pm, the time for Simple Radio to come on. That meant that when she got to the studio, her idol would be there. And she could finally meet him!

The studio was a dimly lit but cozy place. It was filled to the brim with CDs and records. Several speakers hung from the ceiling and stood at every corner. An empty booth stood in the middle of the floor. Jihoon put down his bag and walked to it, fiddling with some buttons and levers. _____ walked around to inspect the shelves. She found old CDs of famous singers and unknown rock bands. It fascinated her that so much music could be contained in one place.

A crackling came from the speakers, then a voice.

"Hey guys welcome back to Station 5.26 University Radio, I'm your nighttime companion DJ Woozi and this is Simple Radio."

_____'s eyes widened. She looked at her watch. 9:00pm, it said. The girl hurried back towards the booth, expecting to see DJ Woozi. But when she got there it was only Jihoon, headphones on his ears. She watched him, confused as to why he was inside. His gaze met hers through the glass.

"I'm here today in the booth with a person that's very special to me standing outside, watching me. She doesn't know that I'm the DJ Woozi she wanted to meet so bad,"

_____'s mouth gaped open.

"Nor does she know that I like her."

Jihoon smiled at her through the glass, mouth still near the microphone.

"And I hope that my confession today will blossom into something more."

[grapesodatozier]

Anything You Want

a fic for @heterophobicrichietozier !! thank you so much for requesting this fic!!

rating: explicit

words: 7.5k

tags/warnings: sugar daddy au, domtop!richie, subbottom!eddie, daddy kink, age gap, marking (hickeys), degradation and praise, porn with feelings, mentions of sonia’s abuse

notsfw below the cut!!

Eddie Kaspbrak was running short on both money and patience. He was only just over a month into his second year of nursing school, and he was already struggling to pay his rent. And sure, rent in New York City was never easy to pay, but he’d been saving, he’d had a plan. The problem was that pretty much all of his money had unexpectedly gone toward his tuition when his mother had refused to pay for a second year at school.

At eighteen, Eddie had left his small hometown in Maine and moved to New York City to start college. He had just barely convinced his mother to let him go, and to help with his tuition as long as he covered his own rent. He was required to call her four nights a week, and he had to go back on the “medicines” he’d disavowed around age fifteen (all of which he routinely flushed down the toilet), but the physical distance had been amazing—at first. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough, and his mom started demanding he call her every night, accusing him of being reckless and taking advantage of her. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming home for the summer, she’d exploded into hysterics, crying and telling him he had to come home. It was when she began rambling on about how Eddie was probably running around with dirty New York City girls and catching all sorts of horrific sexual diseases, demanding that he come home so that she could keep an eye on him and find him a nice girl when she decided he was ready for one, that Eddie had snapped. Though it had been the result of years of pent up frustration and rage, he had stayed calm as he told her that he wasn’t missing her calls because of girls, but because of guys—because he spent his weekends getting fucked by men. “Sorry Ma,” he’d said, his voice cool as steel and even as could be, “but I can’t really pick up the phone when I’ve got some guy’s cock inside of me.” It wasn’t exactly the coming out his friends Bill, Ben, and Mike had been gently running by him, but he was angry, and it had felt good; he figured she’d have had the same reaction no matter how he said it, so what the hell, right?

Still, it stung when she’d told him she wasn’t paying for his college anymore. He hadn’t really believed her at first, as she was still hounding him about his sins and how he needed to come home, but sure enough, when emails about tuition began rolling around, they all went to his school email and explained that his name was the only one on his account, that his mother had bestowed the loans onto him and given up the account. Eddie nearly vomited when he’d received that email. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he blocked his mother’s number.

He already had a job for the summer tied down, but it was just an internship level position filing in a medical office, and it was only four days a week; there was no way it would cover tuition and rent and food, among other expenses. So he was forced to take on a second job as a waiter at a new restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment, then a third job working at a mechanic shop on Fridays and Saturdays. On top of all of that work, he had to completely redo his FAFSA and reapply for loans given his new financial circumstances. His school and the government did give him a bit more, but not enough to drop any of his jobs. 

By the time classes rolled around, he had paid his tuition for the semester, but he’d had to dip into money he’d been saving for rent. Now, in early October, he was still working Fridays and Saturdays at the garage and was waiting tables Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He had a night shift shadowing a nurse on Tuesdays, which left Thursdays and Sundays as his only free nights, nights which he largely spent doing homework. All of this work, and he had still been eating Cup Noodles for the past two weeks.

It was a Friday night, and everything had been going wrong. In the middle of his shift at the garage, he’d gotten a notification from his school’s site informing him that he’d gotten a C on his most recent test, one he’d lost sleep over studying. Then work at the garage had run over and he barely had time to eat dinner before making it to the restaurant in time. He was tired and upset and feeling badly about himself, not to mention missing a party all of his friends were going to, so all it took was one baby boomer yelling at him over a mixed up order for him to excuse himself to the back room and start bawling. Thankfully, his manager seemed to be understanding and let him cool off. “I’ll take that table until they leave,” she told him, to his immense relief and gratitude. By the time she came back to check on him he had calmed down considerably and was staring into the mirror in the break room trying fruitlessly to pat down the puffiness around his eyes, trying to will away the redness that lingered. “Hey,” his manager said, “you wanna take table four?” Eddie sighed and nodded, trying out a smile. “Atta boy.”

He took a deep, steadying breath before heading out for his new table. His eyes fell on a table of three: a woman with dark red curls that fell to her shoulders, a man with truly impeccable posture, and the hottest man Eddie had ever seen in his life. And he was unabashedly looking Eddie up and down from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as he approached. “Hi!” Eddie greeted them, his big, bright customer service smile finding its way onto his face like it was possessing him. “I’m Eddie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

“You got me started already,” the hot guy said. Then, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?”

Luckily, Eddie didn’t have to respond to that, as the guy’s much more refined friend chimed in, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” just as the redheaded woman was letting out an exasperated, “Richie, oh my god.” 

“One gin and tonic,” Eddie smiled, his cheeks burning. “Anything else?”

“Could I have a martini, please?” the woman smiled kindly up at him.

“Martini, got it.” As he jotted it down, he prepared himself to face the hot guy—Richie, apparently. When he did, he was struck by the depth of his blue eyes. He was surprised by how warm they were, and they glittered as he smiled up at Eddie. “And for you?” 

“What do you like?” 

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” Eddie flushed, letting out a small laugh. With a joking smile, he added, “The Shirley Temples are great, though.”

Richie laughed, his eyes never leaving Eddie. “A Shirley Temple it is.” 

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver either, and he put on his best innocent, big-brown-eyes look as he asked, “Virgin or dirty?” He had to fight back a smirk when he saw Richie’s eyes darken.

“Dirty.” The way he said it sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Pretty please, with three cherries on top.”

“You got it,” Eddie said with a wink. Though the day was still weighing on him, he was beginning to feel better already. He might have even swayed his hips a little more than necessary as he walked away. He told himself it was because he could tell this Richie guy was into him, so he was aiming for a nice tip, but really Eddie loved the attention itself. With his schedule, he no longer had time for the hookups he spent his freshman year indulging in. So he couldn’t be blamed for preening under the attention of a hot older guy. Honestly, it was the pick me up he’d been needing for months.

The night went on, all three of them being incredibly kind to him, with Richie throwing in not at all subtle flirtations any chance he got. Eddie didn’t miss the three knotted cherry stems on Richie’s napkin when he brought their food and offered to refill their drinks.

He was almost sad to see Richie go, but he was grateful for the small smile he had on his face as he went to collect his tip and clear the table. At first he went to simply slip the cash into his pocket, but then he realized there was a note on the napkin beneath it: a name, Richie Tozier, with a phone number under it. It was then that Eddie realized he was holding five hundred dollars in his hand. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, an embarrassed flush running from his ears down his chest as he hurried to clear the dirty dishes and bring them back to the kitchen.

The cash burned a hole in his pocket all night, all the way home. What the fuck? he thought to himself. Because seriously, who leaves a five hundred dollar tip on a meal that was barely over a hundred? Eddie locked his apartment door and placed the money on his dresser, staring at it. Five one hundred dollar bills. Who carried that around? What if they were counterfeit? Eddie pulled out the napkin and studied that as well, deciding to Google the name Richie Tozier. His jaw dropped when he did. There his face was, with his big glasses, cocky smile, and fluffy, dark curls. Apparently the guy was on SNL and had two Netflix comedy specials. He was also twenty-eight, nearly ten years older than Eddie. His net worth? Five million dollars.

Eddie sat down on his bed, his mind spinning. The place Eddie worked was nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly frequented by millionaires. Still in his work clothes, he dialed the number, figuring there was no way it would go through.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

It was his voice. “What the fuck?” Eddie blurted out.

He heard a bright laugh on the other end. “Is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, it is, and seriously, what the hell? Five hundred dollars?”

“You looked upset,” Richie said. He sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice had softened noticeably. 

“So you gave a stranger five hundred dollars?” Eddie was honestly more confused than upset. Sure, maybe his pride was a little bruised, but to be honest he was touched. And kind of turned on. 

“Just redistributing my wealth,” Richie joked. “I’ve got more than I know what to do with, so I figured giving it to a pretty boy who was having a bad day was a pretty good way to spend it.” Eddie flushed at that—pretty boy. The way Richie said it, so casually, yet with a joking tone that made it almost teasing, had Eddie’s pants getting tight. When Eddie stayed silent, Richie continued, “There’s more for you where that came from, if you’re interested.”

“What?” Eddie said, blood rushing in his ears. Was this guy serious? Was this actually happening?

“I’d be happy to help you out if you need it. A college kid like you should be partying on a Saturday night, or taking a fucking nap, not crying at a minimum wage job.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Richie laughed. Eddie loved the sound of it. “Yeah, like a sugar daddy, baby.” The pet name made Eddie shudder, made him feel like he was glowing. But still, he didn’t want this guy getting ideas. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you.” Even as he said it, his cock was hard, and the memory of the way Richie had been flirting with him made his skin hot. But he wanted to make explicitly clear that he wasn’t into selling himself.

“That’s not why I’m offering. Seriously, I just wanna help you out. And sure, maybe you’re ridiculously cute, and maybe I want to get to know you, but mostly I wanna help you out. Pay for your rent, give you time to study and party and be a college student.”

And how could Eddie turn that down? As much as he was struggling with it, with his pride and the stranger danger anxiety that his mother had ingrained in him, he seriously doubted that a hot millionaire would come around again offering to pay his rent. 

So Eddie agreed, and soon he was sending Richie his Venmo information. Two minutes later his phone screen glowed with a notification: Richie Tozier sent you $2,000. 

It had been hard to get used to at first, but cutting his work schedule down to just Monday and Wednesday nights at the restaurant and just Friday afternoons at the garage felt amazing. He finally felt rested, could finally give his schoolwork the attention it needed.

“You know, you really don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to,” Richie told him one night when they were having dinner together.

“I know,” Eddie said to his food, “but I like the independence of it. And working with cars calms me down, it makes sense to me.” He didn’t mention the real reason he kept both jobs: the big Just In Case that loomed over him. This seemed like a fairy tale situation, like an extended, intricate prank, and he was terrified that something would go wrong. He wanted to be prepared if Richie suddenly pulled out for some reason.

However, as the months passed it became pretty clear that even without sex Richie wasn’t going anywhere. And that started complicating things.

It was late in December, which meant finals and holidays, which meant lots of stress. It was the first Christmas Eddie wouldn’t be spending at home, and that made him feel sad in a way he didn’t understand; he was incredibly happy to be free of his mother, but there was something so final about it. He supposed it was still a loss, even if it was a welcome one. On top of that, his days were plagued by the anxiety that she might get a new number, might start calling him again, might show up at his door and whisk him back to Maine. So it was just negativity on top of worrying on top of sadness. Under all this stress, he found himself spending more and more time at Richie’s apartment, more and more time talking to Richie, wanting to get close to him.

So far, things had been pretty professional. They got meals together once or twice a week, often in Richie’s apartment due to fans of his popping up everywhere wanting pictures. Mostly they hung out because Eddie liked it; Richie was always reminding Eddie that he didn’t owe Richie anything, but Eddie genuinely liked his company. 

Also, he was still ridiculously hot, and he fawned over Eddie like he was the one getting paid. 

Seriously, Richie was so amazing to him, it wasn’t just the money. When someone at work pissed him off, Richie put on one of Eddie’s favorite shows and offered to hire some people to beat up whatever asshole customer had yelled at him. When Eddie complained that the construction outside his apartment was affecting his studying, Richie let him study in his apartment, and even brought him hot chocolate and rubbed his shoulders.

Now it was a Thursday, and Eddie had finished his last final. He had just gotten home from saying goodbye to Bill, Mike, and Ben for winter break when Richie called. Like always, the loneliness that was threatening to creep over him began to ebb as soon as he heard Richie’s voice. “Hey! How’d your test go? We still on for dinner to celebrate?”

Eddie appreciated the offer, but a fancy dinner wasn’t what he wanted just then. “Can we do dinner at your place tonight?” he asked, his voice worn and small.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Richie’s driver picked Eddie up, so he didn’t actually see Richie until he was knocking at his door and falling into his arms. Richie, with his roughly nine or ten inch height advantage over Eddie, easily scooped him up and brought him to the couch. “So would it be tone deaf of me to ask how the exam went?” Richie grinned, settling down with Eddie resting against him. Eddie tucked his feet under his legs as he leaned into Richie’s embrace, finding the relief he’d been needing all day once Richie’s arms were around him.

“The exam went okay,” he sighed. “But Bill, Ben, and Mike all went home today, and I won’t see them for like a month.” 

Richie shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing Eddie. Eddie naturally moved closer, like a magnet was pulling him toward Richie, and he ended up practically in Richie’s lap. He let out a small, happy sigh as Richie stroked his hair. “I could send you on a trip somewhere, take your mind off of it.”

But it wasn’t just the location that was the problem. Sure, he wanted something to do, but mostly he wanted someone to do things with. A specific someone, if he was being honest with himself. 

Eddie looked down and ran his hand lightly over the stitching on the pocket of Richie’s button up. It was covered in a Pac-Man pattern, but Eddie knew it was more formal than his normal look. The idea that Richie had dressed up somewhat for dinner with him made him smile. And it should have calmed him down as he prepared to ask Richie his next question, but his heart was still racing as he took a deep breath and looked up into Richie’s eyes. “Will you come with me?”

Richie’s eyes widened just barely before a smile broke across his face. “You thought I’d miss out on buying you souvenirs?” 

Eddie beamed. Richie looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his hand was a comforting weight on Eddie’s hip. The thought of travelling with Richie, of sharing a hotel room with him—sharing a bed with him—made Eddie glow. “Did you have any destination in mind?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.” 

Richie’s voice was soft and low, Eddie felt like he could melt into it. He ran his hand up Richie’s chest, cupped his cheek, and watched Richie’s eyes dart over Eddie’s face, clearly trying to get a read on the situation. Eddie had been thinking about crossing this line for a while. He’d been holding back for months, and as the months moved by, his hang ups had begun to feel less and less important. Sure, the money made things different. But, did it have to? Did it really? Richie was here. Richie was holding him without expectation. As Eddie watched Richie lick his lips, as he felt Richie’s hands on him, he couldn’t remember a single reason he’d come up with to not dive headfirst into what they both so clearly wanted, what they had both wanted since the moment their eyes met for the first time. 

So he leaned in, the tension that had been building for months coming to a head and taking his breath away. But just as their lips were about to come together, Richie murmured a soft, reserved, “Eddie.” Eddie’s heart caught at his tone, and he pulled back a bit, trying to figure out what was going wrong. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do it,” Eddie huffed. He was pouting now, and moving to straddle Richie’s hips. “I want you, so bad. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you.” He took Richie’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “No one’s ever treated me as well as you do. The way you take care of me, the way you look at me... I’ve never wanted someone this bad before.”

Richie studied Eddie’s face, his eyes softening, darkening. He unfurled his fist and held Eddie’s jaw in his hand, ran his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip. “Fuck, you deserve the world, angel.” Eddie flushed at that. His heart was racing at the light, teasing way Richie pressed down on his lip. Just as he was about to wrap his lips around Richie’s thumb, Richie slid his hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it noticeably tighter than he normally would. “Tell me what you want, baby.” His voice was low and rough in a way that made Eddie wish he would just bend him over and fuck him senseless already.

But Eddie didn’t mind being coy, didn’t mind pulling the tension as tight as it would go, seeing how much he could tease before Richie snapped and took him the way Eddie wanted him to. “I want you to kiss me.” His nose was bumping against Richie’s now, and he could feel Richie’s shallow breath on his lips. Richie’s eyes were dark and didn’t move from Eddie’s face. Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided it from his waist to his hip, just barely on his ass. Biting his lip, he whispered, “I want you to fuck me, so bad.” He put on a pout and continued, “I fuck all these college guys, but none of them are you. They aren’t as tall as you, their hands aren’t as big as yours.” Eddie watched Richie’s jaw clench. “They can’t fuck me the way I know you could.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie nearly growled. Eddie gasped when Richie grabbed his ass, hard, and tugged his head back. “Did you think about me while they fucked you?” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through Eddie.

“Every time,” Eddie said, gripping Richie’s shirt in his hands. “Wanted it to be you so bad.” 

Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, still not kissing him, still making him wait while he groped his ass. “I know, baby. You needed more, huh? You need your daddy to take care of you.” 

Eddie let out a surprised little noise of pleasure. No one had ever said that to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, and he certainly wasn’t expecting how much he would like it. It made him so hard he got dizzy, completely pliant in Richie’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed, already pathetically desperate. “Yes, daddy, need you so bad, please, please.” 

Richie cursed under his breath and grabbed Eddie by the jaw, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Eddie couldn’t help but let out a little whimpering moan when he finally, finally felt Richie’s lips against his. They were just as soft as they looked, and so full. As Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s thick, dark curls, Richie sat up a bit and pulled Eddie closer against him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their clothed cocks together. Eddie gasped and buried his face in Richie’s shoulder at the feeling. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, moaning at the way Richie smacked his ass. “This is mine, got it?” he said, his voice smooth and low. “None of those little college pricks are allowed to fucking touch you. Understand?”

Eddie moaned at Richie’s sudden possessiveness. All he wanted was to be Richie’s, for Richie to claim him and show him who he belonged to. “Yes, daddy. ‘M all yours, just wanna be yours.”

“Good boy.” He tugged at Eddie’s hair again, pulling his head back so that his neck was exposed. Eddie yelped as Richie licked a stripe up his throat and sunk his teeth into Eddie’s throat, sure to leave a dark bruise. Eddie squirmed in Richie’s lap as he sucked on his neck, hard and intentional. With a final kiss to the bruise, Richie said with a satisfied grin, “Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He chuckled and nipped at Eddie’s neck again when Eddie moaned. “Yeah, you like that baby? You like when daddy takes what’s his? You want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for your daddy?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, already starting to feel like he was floating. After finals and classes and work and months of controlling himself around Richie, this was exactly what he needed. It felt so amazing to just let go and let Richie take control, knowing Richie would take care of him. He couldn’t believe how good this was and none of their clothes had even come off yet. He fumbled with the buttons on Richie’s shirt, but Richie just chuckled and grabbed him by the wrists.

“That’s cute, baby. Daddy decides whose clothes come off and when, yeah?” Eddie whimpered and nodded. Richie slid his hands back under Eddie’s ass and stood then, lifting Eddie up. Eddie instinctively held tight to him, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his neck. Richie kissed Eddie’s hair as he walked them to the bedroom. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.” Eddie’s heart soared as Richie sat him down on the edge of the huge bed, the duvet soft and cool under him. His legs dangled off the side. Richie’s eyes softened as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “You doing okay?” he checked.

“So good,” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie’s forehead, and by the time he straightened up again that look that made Eddie shiver was back on his face. Still cradling Eddie’s face, he asked, “Can I get a little rough with you, baby?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Please,” he moaned.

A dark, mischievous grin pulled at Richie’s full, dark pink lips. “That’s a good boy,” he said with a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “Arms up.” Eddie quickly did as he was told, eager for Richie to strip his shirt off for him. “Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned as he tossed Eddie’s shirt aside. He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides and teased his thumbs over Eddie’s hardened nipples, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. Richie’s hands looked even bigger wrapped around Eddie’s ribs. It made him press his legs together, his cock throbbing desperately in his jeans. “Aw, you don’t need to be shy, kitten,” Richie cooed, forcing one of his legs between Eddie’s and pressing his thigh against Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moaned at the contact and desperately started grinding against Richie’s leg. “Fuck, you look so pretty grinding on me like that. Think you could come like this?” Richie pressed his thigh harder against Eddie’s cock. “Think I could make you come in your pants?” Eddie cried out as Richie pinched his nipples. 

“God, yes,” Eddie moaned, rolling his hips. And he could, he could feel the pleasure building and building. But just as his moans were getting breathier, just as he was really desperately rutting against Richie’s leg, Richie pulled away and tugged Eddie up by his belt loops so quickly Eddie got dizzy and fell into Richie’s solid chest. “Wh-what,” he pouted, looking up at Richie, who was smirking at him.

“Aw, baby, we’re just getting started.” Still dazed and whimpering and achingly hard, Eddie held onto Richie as he undid Eddie’s jeans. Richie then dropped to his knees to pull them off. He helped Eddie step out of his jeans, running his hands reverently over Eddie’s legs as he did so. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been keeping these thighs from me for months?” Richie kissed them, making Eddie quiver and flush. “Fucking tease,” he murmured into Eddie’s skin before biting down hard on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie cried out and grabbed at the bed for support. “Look at these fuckin’ things, you basically wore panties for me.” Eddie gasped as Richie playfully tugged at Eddie’s light pink, silky briefs with his teeth. He’d mostly worn them to feel confident during his exam, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Richie when putting them on, or if he said he hadn’t bought them with money Richie gave him. Eddie leaned back as Richie spread his legs, lifting one up to get a better angle to suck marks into Eddie’s skin. The sight of Richie’s head between Eddie’s thighs, combined with the knowledge that his thighs would be covered in bruises by the end of the night, had a wet spot forming on the front of Eddie’s briefs. Richie nuzzled his face into the soft material, just barely grazing Eddie’s cock. He looked up at Eddie, his blue eyes nearly totally eclipsed. “Did you buy these with daddy’s money, baby?” Eddie nodded, blushing. Richie smirked at him. “Is this how you spend your allowance? On slutty little panties?” Eddie moaned at that and grabbed at Richie’s hair, rolling his hips forward and meeting only air. Richie chuckled. The condescension of it went straight to Eddie’s cock, which visibly twitched in his tight little briefs. “Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you? You like it when I call you out on being a spoiled little cocktease?” Eddie yelped when Richie bit down on the inside of his other thigh.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

For a moment Richie just hummed and kept sucking marks into his skin. But then, finally, he dragged Eddie’s briefs down and off his legs, leaving him fully exposed. Before Eddie could process what was happening, Richie was standing and spinning Eddie around and bending him over the bed, his face pressed into the mattress as his feet once again dangled over the floor. He let out a broken little moan as he felt Richie pull his cheeks apart and run his tongue over Eddie’s hole. After Richie had set a rhythm, lulling Eddie into a pleasured haze, he suddenly felt Richie’s hand come down on his ass. He moaned at the feeling, the slight pain that left an amazing stinging sensation in its wake. “God, you make the prettiest fucking noises,” Richie groaned, once again lapping his tongue over Eddie’s hole. He circled the ring of muscle a few times before pulling back. Eddie was just about to push his hips back when he felt Richie spank him again, harder this time, then felt him spit on his hole. Eddie let out a long moan; it was degrading and possessive in the best way. Eddie tried to rut against the bed, to relieve some of the desperate need that had his cock throbbing, but he couldn’t really do it with the way his feet were hanging off the bed. He heard Richie laugh behind him as he spanked him again. “Aw, you like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you?” 

Eddie let out a muffled, pathetic little, “Yes.”

“I know, it feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you wish you could get off right now.” Eddie’s desperate writhing was confirmation of that. “Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna fucking take you apart.” Eddie gasped as he felt Richie slide his tongue inside of him, setting a rhythm of fucking and swirling and teasing that had Eddie squirming. He rocked his hips back, letting his mind go fuzzy from the pleasure until suddenly Richie was pulling out and lifting Eddie up again. As disappointed as Eddie was to have Richie’s tongue no longer in his ass, he was more than happy to let Richie toss him around and lay him on his back, his head falling against the luxuriantly soft pillows. He felt so small in Richie’s bed, felt so vulnerable under his gaze—he loved it. Richie ran his hand all the way from Eddie’s throat down to his hip, taking his time before squeezing Eddie’s hip hard. “God, you look so fucking good like this, baby.” He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Eddie let out an involuntary little moaned, “Fuck,” at the sight of Richie’s bare chest. He sat up and ran his hand over Richie’s soft, pale skin, admiring his freckles and the slight muscle definition. His shoulders looked somehow even broader now as Eddie traced his fingers over them. Richie only humored him for a moment before pressing Eddie back down and kissing him, deep and just the right amount of forceful. 

Richie’s hands roamed all over Eddie’s body. “God, you’re such a pretty little boy, baby. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re getting fucked.” Richie bit down on Eddie’s lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. “I don’t want you fucking leaving this bed for the next week, gonna bring you everything you need. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then I’m gonna do it again, and again.” Eddie moaned as he felt Richie’s finger circling his slick hole. “Gonna keep you nice and full of my cock whenever I can, gonna take such good care of you. You won’t need to worry about anything, gonna be my pretty little pillow princess. You just lie there and be a good little cocksleeve and daddy will take care of everything else.” Eddie preened at the thought of Richie fawning over him, of Richie doing everything for him so that all he had to do was lie back and take Richie’s cock. It had him squirming under Richie as he grabbed at Eddie wherever he could reach, surely leaving handprints all over Eddie’s body as he glided his tongue over Eddie’s. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside you, baby.” Richie sat back on his heels then and eyed Eddie’s hole, rubbing at it teasingly.

“Please,” Eddie moaned, trying to rock his hips onto Richie’s finger.

“Shh, baby, soon,” Richie soothed, leaning over to kiss Eddie again before reaching into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and covered his fingers in it. Eddie moaned at the sight; he didn’t think a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Richie’s fingers since the first time they met. They were so long, and he could only imagine how amazing they would feel inside of him, fucking him, stretching him open. Richie chuckled when Eddie instinctively opened his legs. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He tossed the lube aside and ran his clean hand over Eddie’s thigh, holding him still before slowly sliding a slick finger inside of him. 

Eddie gasped and threw his head back; one of Richie’s fingers felt like two of his own and reached deeper than he ever could have by himself. “Fuck,” he cried, “your fingers are so big, oh my god.” 

“Yeah?” Richie grinned, cocky and dark. As he slowly began sliding his finger in and out of Eddie, he slid his other hand up his chest until he was cradling his jaw and running the pad of his thumb teasingly over Eddie’s lips. “One finger and you’re already a mess, huh? You like the way I fill you up, baby?” Eddie moaned as Richie slid his thumb into Eddie’s mouth, effectively silencing any response Eddie could’ve made. He let out a contented hum and eagerly sucked on Richie’s finger, holding onto Richie’s forearm with both of his hands as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Such a good little slut for daddy.” Eddie moaned again, rocking his hips as Richie began to finger him faster. Eddie cried out as Richie thrust deep inside of him, making him see stars. “Yeah, you like how deep I can get inside you, baby?” Eddie nodded. “I fucking love it too, angel. You’re so tight, so small and sweet.” He slid his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and pressed his palm to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he tilted his head back, giving Richie better access. Richie pressed down slightly under Eddie’s jaw on either side of his throat, moaning at the blissed out smile that graced Eddie’s face. Richie only pressed down a bit, only for a few moments at a time, just enough to get Eddie’s cock leaking all over himself. He let out breathy little moans as Richie finger fucked him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Daddy,” Eddie moaned. He met Richie’s eyes as he begged. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy, want your cock so bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute” Richie grinned, his voice low and condescending in a way that made Eddie’s cock throb. “I need to open you up a little more before you’re ready for my cock.” As he said it, he pressed another slick finger inside of Eddie, stretching him out. Eddie felt so full already from just two of Richie’s fingers; his cock ached at the thought of how big Richie’s cock would feel inside of him. 

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts as Richie spit on his chest, sliding his free hand over Eddie’s nipples, getting them nice and wet as he played with them. “Daddy,” Eddie began, but he cut himself off with a scream as Richie curled his fingers inside of him, making electric pleasure shoot through him. He moaned and squirmed and grabbed at Richie’s hair, at the sheets, anything to ground himself as Richie leaned down and sucked on his nipples, still relentlessly fucking Eddie’s hole with his fingers. “Please,” Eddie gasped, “daddy, please.” 

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” Richie teased. 

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, clearly getting impatient. “I can take it!”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling his fingers out. He had a look on his face that had Eddie’s blood pounding in excited anticipation. “Okay, baby. If you think you can take it.” He stood up off the bed then, and Eddie sat up a bit to watch. With rapt attention, his eyes followed Richie’s every movement as he dragged his jeans off his legs, then stripped off his boxers.

“God, daddy,” Eddie whimpered, drooling over the sight of Richie’s cock. It was thick and heavy and hard, and so fucking long, Eddie couldn’t believe he’d been keeping himself from a dick like that for months. It was even longer than any of his dildos or vibrators. He needed to feel it down his throat, he needed it.

Seeming to sense this, just as Eddie began to move toward him Richie lightly shoved him back down. “Stay where you are, baby.” Eddie whined but reluctantly complied. The way Richie tauntingly stroked his cock just out of Eddie’s reach had him debating whether it was worth it to be bratty if it meant getting his throat fucked. But his cock was throbbing between his legs, his hole pitifully empty, and watching Richie roll a condom on and lube up his cock made it hard to think about anything other than getting fucked. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll come on your face,” Richie mused, almost casually as he climbed back onto the bed and spread Eddie’s legs, settling naturally between them. Eddie moaned at his words and melted back into the bed. The sight of Richie above him, the way he touched him, had Eddie completely pliant. He felt warm and buzzy, almost liquid as Richie ran his hand reverently over Eddie’s thigh. As he teased the head of his cock over Eddie’s hole, he took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. While Eddie nearly moaned just at that sight alone, at the way Richie’s hand engulfed Eddie’s own, it was also incredibly endearing, and it made something stir in his chest. Guys didn’t normally hold his hand when fucking him, and if they tried it was just weird, as he pretty much only did hookups. But with Richie… it felt different. The way Richie looked at him was different. Like he didn’t want to miss a single thing Eddie did. 

Richie’s voice was low and rich and brought Eddie back as he asked, “Ready?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. As Richie pressed himself inside of Eddie, careful and slow, Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. His mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he felt every inch of Richie’s cock filling him up. Once he bottomed out, Richie let out a low groan and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, pressing kisses all over Eddie’s face. 

“Holy… holy shit,” Eddie panted, letting his body adjust. He’d never felt this full before, had never had anything so deep inside of him. “Oh my god.”

Richie chuckled in his ear as he kissed Eddie’s neck. “What’s the matter, kitten?” he teased. 

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to take the banter bait; everything felt too good, his mind was numb. “You’re so big,” he said dumbly, saying exactly what was on his mind. “No one’s ever been this deep inside me before, holy shit.” 

“I can tell,” Richie hummed. “So fucking tight for me, baby, it’s fucking amazing.” Eddie let out a small whimper as Richie sucked on his neck. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I just, I need just a minute.”

Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as you need.”

As Richie kissed him, sucking gently on his lower lip, Eddie slid his free hand into Richie’s hair, admiring the way his curls felt between his fingers. Then, experimentally, he lifted his legs a bit, pulling them toward himself. They both moaned at the movement, and Eddie felt Richie squeeze his hand. “Oh my god,” Eddie moaned. He grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him desperately, pleading into his lips, “Fuck, I’m ready, please, please fuck me.” 

Richie grabbed him by the hair and held him down, lifting himself up with his other arm. “Yeah?” he said, voice breathy as he pulled his hips back. He looked amazing, dark curls wild as they hung around his face, his blue eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses, his lips slick and red from kissing Eddie. He squeezed Eddie’s hip hard and asked, “You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Eddie whined. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled them up to his chest, spreading them nice and wide for Richie. He watched Richie’s eyes go dark and begged, “Please, need you to fuck me, daddy.”

Richie snapped his hips forward with a sharp, “Fuck,” making Eddie cry out. He pulled his hips back again, until just the tip of his cock was buried inside of Eddie. “Say that again.”

Eddie met Richie’s gaze with glassy eyes and whimpered, “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Richie cursed again and thrust into Eddie, this time setting a more steady pace. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby.” Eddie moaned and rocked his hips, his hands falling to grip the sheets beneath him as Richie began fucking him faster, harder. “You look so good like this, so pretty when you’re moaning for my cock.” Eddie flushed; Richie’s words had precome pearling at the head of dick, dripping onto his stomach.

Richie’s thrusts were getting hard enough to rock Eddie’s body back and forth, moving him so easily as Richie fucked him. Eddie loved it, loved how effortlessly Richie could toss him around. He loved hearing Richie moan as he fucked him, loved knowing that Richie felt just as good as he did. He loved the idea of Richie using his body to get himself off. The thought had him letting out little high pitched moans with every thrust. The pleasure left his mind in a haze, and all he could concentrate on was how good Richie’s cock felt inside of him, all he could say was a desperate string of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” broken up by wordless moans. 

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby,” Richie praised, running his hand over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good for me. You like getting fucked like this? You like being all spread out for daddy? Just lying back and taking it while daddy makes you feel good?”

“Yes!” Eddie cried. “Yes, yes, yes, daddy, oh my god, ‘s so good, fuck.” 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Richie marveled, leaning down to kiss Eddie. The new angle shifted Richie’s hips, and suddenly Eddie was seeing stars, every nerve in his body coming alive and fizzling like a sparkler. He cried out and clutched at Richie, nearly screaming from how amazing it felt.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice high and desperate. “Right there, yes, oh my fucking god, don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop.”

“Aw, sweetheart, does that feel good?” Eddie nodded frantically, his moans becoming shouts as Richie’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over, the pleasure so deep and all encompassing. He couldn’t think about anything else, all he knew was that amazing feeling, all he knew was he needed more. He wanted more and more and more, he could feel it building, was vaguely aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into Richie’s back hard enough to leave scratch marks. 

“Daddy,” he slurred, “gonna c-come.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned. He spit generously into his hand and reached between them to stroke Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s back arched, pressing himself against Richie. The new contact had pleasure rushing through him, and with a few strokes of Richie’s hand on him and a nearly growled, “Come for daddy,” Eddie was coming undone. Pleasure exploded through him, wracked his body as he came all over himself, all over Richie’s hand, Richie fucking into him the whole time. Beyond the noise of his own moans and screams, he could hear Richie cursing under his breath, telling Eddie how good he was doing. 

Eddie panted as he came down, blinking his eyes open slowly. Still buzzing, he watched as Richie carefully pulled out of him and rolled the condom off before leaning further over Eddie. He spit into his hand again and began stroking his own cock, a sight that made Eddie’s spent cock twitch in interest. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” Richie moaned. Eddie happily complied, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes. Moments later, Richie’s moans were filling the room, as was the slick sound of Richie stroking himself, and Eddie moaned, small and content as he felt Richie’s warm come painting his chest and cheeks and lips. 

He blinked open his eyes once he heard Richie let out a heavy sigh. He looked amazing, sweaty curls clinging to his face, blue eyes hooded as he took in the sight of Eddie beneath him, covered in come. Eddie made sure to meet Richie’s gaze before he swallowed the come on his tongue, then licked more off of his lips. “Fuck, you’re a fucking angel,” Richie grinned. He swiped his fingers over Eddie’s chest, spreading his come over Eddie’s nipple before bringing it to his lips. Eddie hummed happily as he sucked on Richie’s fingers. He still felt like he was floating. Richie leaned down and kissed him, deep and lingering, before saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby, okay?” When Eddie nodded, Richie climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Eddie watched through the open door as Richie waited for the water to warm, then wet a washcloth under it before walking back over to the bed. Eddie preened as Richie cleaned him, pressing soft kisses all over his face as he gently ran the warm washcloth over Eddie’s cheeks and chest and stomach. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie said. Eddie hummed in agreement. He felt like he was glowing when he felt Richie smile against his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. So fucking good for me.” As soon as Eddie was clean and the washcloth was tossed in the hamper, Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him down against him, nuzzling into his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured softly into Richie’s skin. They lay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and pressing soft kisses against each other’s skin, until Eddie let out a small, “Richie?”

Richie sat up and met his eyes, sensing the shift in his tone. “Yeah?”

“What… what is this? Like what are we, I guess?” he asked, tracing patterns over Richie’s skin with his fingertips.

Richie smiled softly down at him and stroked his cheek. “Same thing it’s always been. Whatever you want.”

Eddie huffed. “What do you want?”

Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s. “I want you. All the time. I wanna take you on vacations and buy you gifts and flowers and dinner and watch movies with you. I wanna date you, Eds,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh. “I wanna give you the fucking world.”

Eddie grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wanna date you, too.”

After a few moments of chaste kisses, Richie murmured into his lips, “I also wanna fuck you in every position on every single surface I can think of.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, but he was giggling, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz  @thelazyeye @montconde @itfandomprompts @tinyarmedtrex @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @losers-gotta-stick-together

[mxchellesworld]

𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐲.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of sex and masturbation 

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

***

It had been a few days since you’d seen Cat and Spencer. After lunch you decided it was time to make your way back home. A quick exchange of numbers and the promise of seeing each other soon and you were back to your mundane routine of getting adjusted to the city. The short uber ride to your apartment, which they insisted they paid for, was spent answering texts from your friends and confirming you were still alive after they left you. 

You spent the rest of the day doing laundry for the week and cleaning bits of your apartment. It was still pretty bleak, with empty walls which you longed to fill with pictures and art. Your room was a bit more lively with knitted blankets your aunt made long ago and the light of the warm lamp in the corner filling the space. 

Sunday was bland with the task of getting groceries. You decided to walk since the store was a block away. You made your way down the streets in a simple sweater and leggings, foregoing any makeup. Walking into the store the older lady at the register greeted you with a kind smile. 

Picking up a basket you made your way down the isles trying to get your things quickly to get back home and sleep the day away. While searching the snack section you stood in front of the popcorn deciding between buttered or kettle. You heard footsteps and saw a worker make his way down to restock the shelf. 

He was tall and you noticed the way his shirt rose as he reached the top shelf. Spencer could probably reach that no problem, you thought to yourself. He caught you staring and turned to you with a smile. 

“Having a movie night?” he asked walking closer. You could smell the scent of his cologne, strong but not overpowering.  

“Not really haha, but don’t get me wrong a catch up day of my favorite show is definitely on the list,” you replied returning with a small smile. 

He leaned in reaching for one of the boxes, subtly boxing you into the space. 

“Well this is my favorite kind,” he said handing you the box, “Ya know perfect to amount to eat alone.. or share.” 

“Oh,” you said surprised with a chuckle trying to play off the heat rushing to your cheeks. 

You were about to respond when you heard a voice from the end of the aisle, “Y/n.” 

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

Spencer was walking over to you holding his own basket filled with essentials like milk and bread. He looked like he did on Saturday, wearing those grey sweatpants which made you thank the stars above. On top he had on a simple tshirt and cardigan combo making him look extra cozy. 

“Hey Spence,” you said looking past the employee. 

“Did you get the popcorn baby?” he said looking the worker up and down. 

You furrowed your brow seeing what he was playing at, “Yeah yeah, he was just giving me a recommendation,” you turned back to the worker, “thanks again.” 

The worker nodded, red in the cheeks from facing Spencers death glare, before he walked away and rounded the corner. 

“What the fuck was that,” you both said at the same time. 

“He was just trying to help,” you said waving around the box of popcorn. 

“Come on princess you’re smarter than that. He was obviously trying to flirt with you.”

You scoffed before answering, “What don’t tell me you’re jealous.” 

“Oh I’m not,” he said with a smirk, “I’m confident in the fact we’ve proved who you belong to.”

You rolled your eyes before he spoke again, “Plus I know a boy like him could never satisfy a greedy little whore like you. Tell me, are the handprints still there?”

You opened and closed your mouth not being able to answer him. The laugh he let out told you he new he had won. 

“I think I’m done shopping,” you said walking past him. 

“Alright princess have a good rest of your day. But don’t think Cats not hearing about this, and she won’t be very happy.”

You felt your insides heat up at the thought of Cat knowing. What she would do to you. 

“Uh huh bye Sir,” you said stressing the title. 

You made your way to the older lady who you saw when you walked in, “Find everything alright?” she asked kindly. You nodded and pulled out your wallet to pay. 

God she had no idea. 

_

That interaction replayed in your mind from that night into your days at work. Neither of them had texted. Maybe Spencer forgot and never told Cat. The wait for something to happen was torturous. 

Your friend had noticed you were spaced out. Looking longingly at your phone during your breaks or lunch. It wasn’t like your feelings were hurt much for being ignored but more so the ache between your thighs was having a reaction. As you predicted trying to use your fingers or that sad vibrator in your bedside drawer was doing nothing to aid your release. 

You were out at the cafe around the corner from the office you worked at having lunch with one of your coworkers. She was going on about the night she had with the guy from the bar over the weekend. 

“Then he bent me over the couch! God it was so good,” she all but moaned. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I swear we were up until like 4 am going round after round,” she continued. 

“Right.”

“After that we sacrificed a goat on Saturn.”

“Oh wow,” you said looking down at the unlit rectangle next to your sandwich. 

“Y/n,” she said snapping her fingers in front of you. 

“What,” you said raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re being really shitty right now. I’m trying to tell you about how I literally got my back blown out and you’re staring at your phone like it’s gonna unlock the key to your future,” she said exasperatedly. 

Welp she wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“Abbie I’m sorry. I’m just waiting on a text. But please tell me more,” you said nodding for her to continue. 

“No, I wanna know fucked you stupid this weekend to make you act like a lovesick puppy,” she said putting her elbows on the table to rest her face in her palm. 

You internally debated telling her. I mean so far she has been the nicest and most welcoming to you, definitely bff material. But on the other hand you didn’t know if you were allowed to bring them up to other people. Technically it wasn’t a rule and what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. 

You took in a deep breath before spilling your guts,” So basically after I noticed you guys were gone I accidentally walked into a sex club then later that night I fucked the owners and now we’re in a throuple type situation.” You ended with an awkward smile and waited for her reaction. 

“Oh the bdsm club? Isn’t it like the Library something?” she said casually. 

You sat there blinking for a while, “Out of everything I said thats the part that caught your attention.”

“So you had a threesome, very nice, we’ll get to that part. Tell me about the club.”

“Uh ok. We’ll it’s called the Underground Library and it’s what you’d imagine any bdsm lounge would be like. Red lights and sexy music playing in the back. There’s a bar and uh playrooms where you can watch others.”

She hummed taking in the information and sipping on her latte, “So the sex?”

“God it was so fucking good.” You both laughed and you spent the last few minutes of your lunch break telling her about what they did to you. Safe to say you knew your panties would be a mess by the end of the day just replaying those memories in your head. 

_

It was finally Thursday, you were so close to the work week ending and having a night with Abbie. The plan was for her to help you do a little shopping for your home then redecorate and spend the rest of the night sipping on wine with a pizza. Absolutely perfect. 

The day went by yet again without a notification from the people you wanted. At this point you came to the conclusion the incident was forgotten and left in the past. 

Friday you woke up around 10 and let yourself lay in bed, answering emails and lounging around until noon for you to get ready for your day with Abbie. After a while you got up to make a quick breakfast and make a list of items you planned on buying. 

You thought about getting a throw for the couch and some nice curtains. Maybe some wall decor. You were so excited to finally have a place to yourself and style it to your liking. 

Having roommates in college was fun but the solidarity of being able to walk around your own place basically naked and sing as loud as you wanted was liberating. 

Noon rolled around and you made your way to the bathroom to take a shower. The water pressure on your shoulders was breaking through to all the stress of the week and you instantly felt it melting away. 

You hopped out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and looking in your closet for what to wear. You settled for jeans and an oversized flannel, putting some comfy booties on your feet. You looked at your phone to see Abbie had texted and she would be on her way in 45 minutes. Using the remaining time you did your hair and makeup, just the basics for your day out. 

Your phone dinged with a simple text that read “here”, you grabbed your purse and the list on your kitchen counter and made your way to the elevator. 

You saw her little red car right in front of your building. The sound of music playing through the speakers could be heard from a few feet away. 

You pulled the door open and she greeted you with a big smile, “Hey! You ready to spend away that paycheck,” 

You laughed before answering, “You know it.”

The trip was made with nothing but laughs and a horrible mix of you guys singing to the radio. 

_

After a few hours and trips to multiple stores you guys stopped at one of the vendors in the mall to get some soft pretzels. Looking around you saw a fancy lingerie store and an idea popped into your head. 

You tapped Abbie on the shoulder to get her attention, “Hey I know you’re dead on your feet but theres one store I wanna go to. Do you wanna just grab a table? I’ll be like 20 minutes tops.”

“Yeah no prob Y/n/n,” she said holding her hand out for the bags you had in your hand, “this cinnamon twist is calling my name.” You both shared a giggle before you turned and skipped over to the store.

A woman wearing a dark purple sweater greeted you, “Hello darling, are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Nope I’m just taking a look around, thanks,’ you said with a smile. 

Walking around you saw a display of a matching set. It was baby pink and lacy and it left little to the imagination of the mannequin. Perfect. 

You looked over the table finding the set in your size and walking to the dressing rooms. Quickly you basically ripped your clothes off, speeding to get the fabric on your curves. It was stunning, complimenting your skin and hugging your curves. 

You pulled your phone out and hit the messaging icon. If they weren’t gonna text then you had to bite the bullet and put on your big girl panties to do it first. 

Typing in each of their contact names you made a groupchat and hit the camera option. You lifted your hand to get a flattering angle and gave the mirror your best pout. 

“Do you think it’s a good color?” Sent. 

One last glance in the mirror and you knew this was going home with you. Changing back into your clothes you slipped your phone in your pocket and made your way to the register. 

“Just this for you today honey,” the woman asked. 

“Yup,” you said pulling out your wallet. You heard the chime of a text and a smirk came across your face. Finishing the transaction you were excited to see what their reaction was. 

Walking back to Abbie you saw her on the phone and raised your brow in question. She started to get up and you took some of the bags from her hands. Once she was done with the call she put her phone in her purse and looked over to you. 

“Change of plans. Sam, the guy from the club, called and he’s coming over to mine tonight. So raincheck on the wine and pizza?”

You waved a hand dismissing what she said, “You’re all good, go catch that dick.” She laughed and pulled out her keys as you guys made your way out of the mall. 

In the car you pulled your phone out to check the message. It was from Cat. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe your little friend from the grocery store can help you pick.” 

So Spencer did tell her. 

You quickly replied, “You know green isn’t a good look on either of you.”

Another chime. “Why would I be envious? Last time I checked you came on my fingers, in my bed.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at her words. You tried to think of a response but this time Spencer responded. 

“Come to the lounge at 7. And wear that underneath your clothes.” 

“Yes Sir.” was all you said and the conversation ended. 

Looks like you and Abbie both had other plans for the night anyways. 

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫!!

[yourfavewriteress]

check you out (part 2) | connor mcdavid

part 1

Teaser: “Really wanted to get to know me, huh?”

You weren’t desperate. If a guy said he was going to text you, you waited until he did so. You didn’t count down the minutes, or jump whenever you got a notification to see if it was him. You just weren’t that type of gal. Usually.

It started with an email from your school, an hour after you got home from giving Connor your number in the parking lot. Even though your text messages and emails had clearly different ringtones, your shoulders still slumped when you saw that it wasn’t him. You thought you could tell when someone gave you longer looks, you thought you could tell when someone was interested in you. At least, a little. 

But, you still knew nothing about Connor besides his healthy eating habits and his somewhat shy but also strong demeanor. Maybe he’s just not actually into you, you finally sighed around 9:30 pm, hours after you had gotten home. You hated the way you were feeling and you hated how one guy you barely knew just decided to open up shop in your brain with clearly no intention to deliver.

To take your mind off of things, you took a long shower and prepared yourself for bed. While your music played, the song paused, alerting you of a notification. Coaching yourself, you ignored it. If it was him, he could wait a few minutes. If, it was him.

Exactly two minutes later, the music paused again with the same tone, confirming that you had a text waiting for you. You were basically done at that point, doesn’t hurt to end a shower early. As if someone was watching your excitement over, technically speaking, a work crush, you kept your composure as you dried yourself off and moisturized your skin. Once you were completely done with your rushed night routine, you took a deep breath and finally looked at your phone. 

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Connor. Did you make it home okay?

You bit your lip, adding the number to your contacts before you began typing a response, I did, thanks! How about you?

Connor: I’m not going to lie, I did trip on my way up to my place and nearly lost everything I bought at the store today

You: Seems like you’re just destined for destruction, huh? First the store’s machine, now your own groceries

Connor couldn’t help but laugh at that. He knew you were never going to let that go, and if the tables were turned, he’d probably do the same. She’s funny, he thought. He was already interested in you and the fact that you even gave him your number meant that he had a chance. And, no matter what, he was going to try.

Connor: I accept no responsibility for that evil machine your store owns. But it did get us to meet so I’m not too salty about it

You didn’t know if you should laugh or swoon over his message, so you stared at it. Is this what flirting is? you asked yourself. 

You: Hey, I spend hours with that machine everyday, keep your swear words to yourself

You: But, now I’m wondering if you broke the machine on purpose that day…

Connor: I didn’t in the moment, but if I got the chance to go back, I’d definitely make sure it happened again

Connor: Do you have any free time this weekend? 

Holy shit, you thought to yourself. The movie that you planned on watching that night had clearly been forgotten as you had found your way in bed, under the covers with the only light coming from your phone screen. This is really happening.

You:  Besides working Saturday morning, I’m pretty free. Why?

Connor: Do you want to have lunch on Sunday? I know this place near where I live that has the best menu I’ve ever seen

You smiled then, taking a second to scream into your pillow before responding.

You: That sounds amazing, I would love to

Making sure to be clear that you accepted, you also wanted to keep things light.

You: But, I have seen what you buy at the store so is the menu filled with only kale and string beans? I just need to know if I should eat before or not

Connor: It hurts that you think I would really take you somewhere like that

You: I just had to make sure :)

Connor: So, can I pick you up around 4 on Sunday?

You: I can actually meet you there, if that’s okay. I don’t want you to go out of you way to get me 

Connor: It’s not a problem but we can meet there too

Connor: 4 works for you, though?

You: Yeah, it’s perfect

His heart clenched at that, and he was finally able to let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Not only did he get your number, he got a date with you, too. He was proud of himself for finally putting in the effort with someone and something other than his hockey career.

You didn’t stop texting there, continuing to go back and forth with him for a few more hours. It felt nice, to talk to someone new after a while. Connor was still trying to figure you and your story out, but you were doing the same with him. 

Since it hadn’t come up in conversation, Connor was almost certain that you didn’t recognize him from the league. Hell, he didn’t even know if you watched any sports. And, while this made it easier for him to talk to you, it also made it harder for him to come up with a way to tell you about his life that wouldn’t scare you off or make you look at him differently. He’s had too many experiences letting in the wrong people that were only after him for attention.

He could just wait until he fully trusted you to bring it up, but he had a feeling that would make you question him even more. He could tell you on your upcoming date, but that might end things before they even had a chance to get started. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew he wanted to find out.

He could feel the excitement in his body as the week went by and it only intensified as it got closer to the day you were finally going out. He wasn’t nervous at first, especially since you had kept in touch everyday since he last saw you. But, when he arrived at the diner he set for you two to meet up, he couldn’t help the nervous bounce of his leg as he waited for your arrival.

He got there early, because he wanted to make sure he was there when you showed up, especially since he was the one who extended the invitation. He also was just really excited to get to talk to you in person, without someone interrupting you because they needed help in self-checkout. He was finally going to be able to talk to you, and learn about you and your life.

You, however, were a mess. When you agreed, you had forgotten how long it had been since a guy had asked you out, and even longer since you’d been on an actual date with someone that you barely even knew. You didn’t know what to wear, or how to fix your hair, or how early you should be, or even how late. You were a mess.

Since it was still chilly out, you settled on best fitting black pants, a nice casual shirt, and your favorite boots. It was simple, but then again, you were meeting at a diner in the middle of the day. You prayed you weren’t underdressed as you finished your hair and the minimal amount of make-up that you were still working on perfecting, and if you were, you couldn’t risk being overly late anyway.

You were a few minutes late walking into the diner but you spotted Connor almost immediately, seated in a booth in the far corner. Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way to him.

“Hey,” You said, softly. Connor looked up, standing at the same time.

“Hi, I’m glad you make it,” He smiled. He pulled you in for a hug and after the initial shock, you returned it, breathing in his scent. “You look amazing.”

Happy that he couldn’t see your blush, you gave him a gentle squeeze, “Thank you, you too.”

After you separated, Connor stepped back, motioning for you to sit down. You thanked him again as you sat, taking off your coat and placing it next to you.

“I hope this place is cool with you, I usually like staying in lowkey spots,” He said as he took his place across from you.

“Usually?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “You take all your dates here?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He blushed, shaking his head. “I’m just not a fan of being around a ton of people and noise.”

“This place is nice,” You looked around. “I’ve never been here before so I’m kinda jealous that I didn’t know about it.”

He smiled, “Good.”

You shifted under his eyes, picking up the menu. “So, what made you finally ask for my number?”

It was a risky question to ask but after your past experiences with interested customers, you knew you had to. Although Connor had been respectful every time you saw him, that didn’t ease your fear of everything ending badly. Especially since it was the first time you actually gave your number out and didn’t regret it immediately after.

“Besides the obvious fact that you’re really beautiful,” He smiled as he looked down at his menu. “Every time we talked, you made me laugh. Which most people would say is hard to do.”

“So, I’m beautiful and funny,” You nodded, smiling slightly. “Thank you.”

He laughed, “What made you give me your number?”

You narrowed your eyes at him firing your question back at you but he just smiled again. Thinking for a second, you looked back at the menu.

“You laughed at my jokes,” You said as you glanced up at him briefly. He was still watching you as you continued, “And, you’re very easy on the eyes, I guess.” 

“Fair enough,” He responded.

“Plus, you asked.” He rolled his eyes at that but you could see the smile on his lips as he took a sip of his water.

You thought about it for a second, wondering how honest you should be. “Actually, do you want my true answer?”

You felt that since you had been texting back and forth with him for a few days, the least you could do was tell him the truth. He nodded, raising his eyebrows. 

“I was already hoping you would ask.”

You bit your lip nervously, but he grinned and you felt his knee nudge yours under the table. The gesture calmed your nerves a little, but your senses were all heightened by the contact. 

“How do you like working at the store?” He asked after a few moments.

“It’s alright,” You shrugged. “Not the ideal and I definitely don’t plan on doing it forever but it pays.”

“Do you have plans?” He asked, and you noticed that his arms were now folded on the table over his menu. His full attention was on you, and you could feel your skin tingling.

“I’m still in school, so I’m kind of in the process of figuring that out, especially since my mind changes every month,” You responded. “What about you? What are you doing for work right now?”

“I play hockey.”

“Professional?” He nodded. “Like, the NHL?” He nodded again. “Seriously?” Again. “Huh.”

“What?” He laughed.

“You’re a professional hockey player,” You said, slowly. “Did you see where I work?”

He shrugged, “What about it?”

“Nothing,” You shrugged as well. “Nevermind.”

“I asked you out because I really wanted to get to know you. Outside of the supermarket, and without all the peering eyes.”

You smiled, “Really wanted to get to know me, huh?”

He laughed, taking a sip of his water. He still held your eye as he did so and you narrowed yours at his next clear attempt to avoid answering. “What are you studying?”

“Sociology,” You answered, laughing after.

“You must be pretty smart, then,” He replied. “Soc is pretty complicated from what I remember.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Everyone thinks so, but I wouldn’t say I’m especially smart or anything. It’s not that bad.”

“The really smart people usually don’t,” He smirked, just as the waitress walked up to your table.

“Can I start you guys with any drinks or appetizers?”

“I’m good with this water, thanks,” Connor said.

“Iced tea, please,” You smiled.

“Okay, perfect. And, are you guys ready to order or do you need another second?” You were both ready and gave her your orders. With your menus in hand, the waitress disappeared to the back.

“No alcohol on the first date?” You teased, leaning on the table.

He laughed, “Yeah, I’m watching my figure actually.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing with him. 

“Where are you from?” He asked.

“Originally from Boston, moved here to Edmonton for school,” You said.

“So, you like the cold?”

“I do, actually,” You smiled. “What about you?”

You were nervous, that was a given. You had forgotten what holding eye contact with a guy could actually do to you, especially when you had no one to buffer. You worried about having something in your teeth or god forbid your nose, or suddenly making an embarrassing noise. But, when Connor basically slapped his drink off the table while talking, resulting in the loudest sound of glass hitting the floor, you couldn’t help the also loud and real laugh that came out of you at his shocked expression.

“I’m really sorry,” Connor apologized to the waitress as she appeared to sweep up the few broken pieces of glass. You tried to control your laughter as Connor’s face was now bright red.

“Don’t worry, it happens more than you think,” She laughed, standing back up straight. “I’ll be back with another water for you, no biggie.”

“Thank you,” Connor replied. “I’m sorry, again.”

Once she was gone, Connor looked back at you and you tried to hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink.

“I can’t believe you just laughed at me.”

“I’m sorry, I probably should have held it in,” You responded. “Bad first date etiquette.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Evil.”

“You have to admit, it was funny,” You teased.

“I probably looked like a deer in headlights,” He breathed. “That was definitely the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me, especially on a fucking date.”

“Well, lucky for you, I won’t use it against you.”

The date was better than you expected it to be. Not because you both were overtly flirty or anything, but because you actually talked. You explained why you chose to move to Edmonton from Boston, what your studies meant to you, and what you hoped you could accomplish. Connor spoke about growing up in hockey, and struggling to be the player he is today. Even though the conversation was deep at times, it didn’t feel heavy or suffocating. The conversation flowed so smoothly that you forgot you were on a date at times.

While stepping out of the diner almost three hours later, you knew that whatever happened, you hoped to at least have Connor as a friend. Once you could get over the huge crush you had on him, you knew you both got along and could talk about anything. You hoped you wouldn’t have to get over your crush, though.

“I had a really nice time with you,” Connor said as you stepped back into the windy air in the parking lot.

“Me too, thank you for inviting me,” You responded, hugging your arms tighter to your body.

“Anytime,” You both reached your car, and you watched as Connor appeared to be contemplating something in his head, eyes glues to the ground.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

He laughed at the question, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “I’m trying to find the right words to use to ask you out again but everything I’m saying in my head sounds lame.”

You knew you were blushing once again, shaking your head at him as you locked eyes. “I’ll go out with you again, but I’m picking the location this time.”

“I can live with that,” He smiled. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay,” You nodded, finally unlocking your car. “See you later.”

“Bye, Y/N.” He waited until you were safely in your car before stepping back towards his.

[agustdomain]

October Ink | #3

Fall isn’t all fun and games. With your chemistry class weighing down on you, Chan knows just the right remedies to lift your spirits.

“So Coraline and pumpkin spice lattes. That’s our Saturday date?” Chan asked, ignoring his friends chattering in the background. It was funny how you could hear Felix’s screeches and Jisung’s swearing through two devices. 

Changing into more comfortable clothes, you confirmed his words. “Yup. It’s tradition. I usually do it myself, just to get into fall spirit. But now that you’re around,” You teased, smiling when he laughed in response.

“Yeah, I guess I can be pencilled in,” You could hear the humor in his voice, easing the nerves rattling your breathing since you’d checked your phone around twenty minutes ago. With that thought, you crawled onto your bed and opened your laptop.

“Okay. I’m logging in,” You let your voice drag out as you typed in your password, neck aching with the strain of holding up your phone. “Ugh, hold on. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“Okay, baby,” You smiled at Chan’s stuffy voice, familiar with the way he sounded with a full mouth (trail mix was your guess). Jisung was always yelling at him to stop doing it through his headset, but you found it kinda cute. “Just breathe, okay?”

You clenched and unclenched your fist as the screen loaded, letting you into your school website. Specifically, for your grades. On your way home from work, you’d gotten an email letting you know your professor had posted your grades for your chem midterm. If it was any other class, you wouldn’t have been struck with a wave of nausea like you did when you saw it. 

This chemistry class, in short, had been kicking your ass since day one. 

The only person who knew the extent of your stress was your boyfriend, Chan. Loving, supportive, always cheering you on. He had his own worries, so you tried your best not to dump your concerns all over him. However, he knew how freaked out you were over this. Your skin flushed at the memory of a few nights ago, calling him and crying about your fear of failing. 

No matter what you did or how hard you tried, you just couldn’t do well in this class. He constantly reassured you, tried to give you pep talks, but at this point there was nothing you could do but hope for the best. 

As you hovered over the class name, the sound of Chan talking to his friends on his game faded away. If you bombed this test, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to recover. Gnawing at your lip, you clicked the class, your breath hitching at the little notification on the grades tab. 

“You alright, baby?” Chan whispered. His voice released the breath you were holding, eased the tension in your shoulders. As long as you’ve known him, he tended to everyone. Everyday, you worked to make sure he was seen and loved. 

“I’m- I’m about to see.”

“Whatever happens, I’m here.”

“Thank you.” You clicked on the tab, waited for it to load. It loaded too quickly, so you purposefully scrolled down as slow as possible. Chris wasn’t talking to his friends anymore, but you could hear his fingers tapping away at his PC. 

When your eyes found the number, you wondered if your heart actually cracked. Pushing your laptop away, you fell back on your bed, covering your eyes with your hands. You breathed out, tried to tell yourself not to cry but only made the urge worse. Like a sudden storm that you should’ve known was coming, the tears fell. 

“Y/N? Baby, you there?” His voice was coated in concern, as if he sensed the shift in your silence. Swallowing thickly, you raised your tone, tried to come off nonchalant.

“I’m here. I’m fine... Don’t worry.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you prayed that you fooled him. 

“Hey guys, I gotta go,” You heaved a sigh, hearing him say his goodbyes to his friends somehow making things worse. You were such a failure. “No, no everything’s fine. I’ll just catch up with you guys later.” 

He waited, and even without saying anything, you knew he meant it. There was a purpose to his silence, patient like he was reaching through the phone and holding you. 

You couldn’t take it, not right now. 

“I gotta go,” You whispered, eyes trailing to your laptop as you reached over and shut it. 

“Y/N…”

“I just need some time, baby. Just play with your friends okay? I’ll call you back in a while.”

“Okay,” You moved to hang up, distracted, but he called your name again.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

                                                              ~

A few hours later, you were feeling a little better. You had The Office and Chan’s sweater to thank for that. Cozying up on the couch, you forced yourself not to think as you let the episodes start and end, not touching the remote and turning off your mind. If you didn’t, you were sure you’d cry again. 

You didn’t feel good about being so short with Chan, but the two of you learned healthy communication over time. He was aware of how you got sometimes, and gave you space when he knew you needed it. You still felt guilty, because you knew he was worried. 

The doorbell rang. With a sigh, you got off the couch and dragged your feet to the door. Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared out the peephole, wondering why no one was there. 

Nervous, you unlocked the door and opened it a crack, peeking out. Eyes trailing down, your heart warmed at the latte on your welcome mat, a sticky note pasted on the lid. Looking out into the hall, searching for Chan, you picked up the drink and read the note.

I’m here when you’re ready. Pumpkin spice doesn’t need to wait until Saturday. Love, C.

Sipping at the drink, the sweetness filled your tongue, the tension in your body faded away- just like it did when Chan was near. 

He knew how to make you feel better even when he wasn’t here. 

Running your fingers over his handwriting, you closed the front door, a smile poking at your lips. 

                                                             ~

The next morning, you woke up to your phone going off. Blinking away your drowsiness, you tapped at your phone, seeing a new text from Chan. 

New surprise at your door. Hint: it’s not me. 

Suddenly awake, you threw your blanket off of you as you raced to the door, throwing it open. The smile bloomed on your face as you crouched down, picked up the pumpkin spice latte and stuffed black cat. 

You sipped at your drink, double checked to see if Chan wasn’t hiding around the corner. The note said, I figured you’d want your own Charlie. Three days until Coraline! <3

Snapping a picture of the cat snuggled up against the drink, you sent it to Chan. 

You’re the best, you know that?

Second best. 

No.

Yes.

I love you…

I love you too, Y/N.

                                                             ~

When you woke up the next day to the doorbell ringing, you were prepared. Jumping out of bed, you slid on your slippers and raced to the door. Throwing it open, your heart jumped, Chan nowhere in sight. Was he really that fast? Scooping up his gifts for the day (your favorite candies and another latte), you ran down the hallway, ignoring the elevator as you headed for the stairs. 

Just as you started heading down, you heard the door on the first floor slam closed. He was close!

You ran, pretty sure you looked terrifying as the smile on your lips grow bigger. Bursting out of the door, you headed to the front of the complex, looking both ways before racing down the sidewalk toward where he usually parked. 

When you made it around the corner, your heart jumped in your chest, ever excited whenever you spotted its owner. 

Chan hadn’t noticed you yet, and you sighed when his long strides relaxed into his normal pace, his hands in his pockets. His hair was messy like he just rolled out of bed himself, sporting his favorite red hoodie and sweatpants. 

Running up behind him, you yelled his name as your arms went around him. He jumped, reeling to look at you with wide and scared eyes. It only took a split second before a laugh broke out of his lips, his arms going around you. Looking at you with raised eyebrows, he said, “You ruined my surprise.”

“I was ready for you today.”

He hummed, trying to bite back a smile. “Were you now?”

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss onto your lips, distracting you as his hands reached and snatched the drink out of your hands. “Chan!”

“Well, since you ruined my surprise, I might as well take this,” He twisted his body as you tried grabbing it back from him, crying out as he guzzled the latte. He stopped, exaggerating a sound of praise before handing it over.

Cradling the drink, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Latte thief.”

“Surprise ruiner.”

Dropping the act, you intertwined your fingers with his, swinging them between you two. His face softened, and it made you shy because… well, everyone said it. You could feel his love for you whenever he looked at you like that. The dimples helped.

“Thank you, Chan. I… I know I’ve been really down and not really as enthusiastic as I’ve always been.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. You can’t be happy all the time. None of us can. I just wanted to make sure you had something to lift your spirits, even when you need your space.”

“I loved it. These lattes? I need to learn to make them because wow. And Charlie? You almost made me cry.”

“Lattes huh?” You saw the idea forming in his face, knowing that he was concocting some plan to probably learn how to make them himself. Patting his chest, you leaned forward and pecked his cheek. 

“You are an angel.”

“Just like you, love. And I hope you know that this class? The one that’s making my girl so unhappy? It’s temporary. You are going to go on and do incredible things. You just don’t know it yet.”

Even with the doubt and disappointment squeezing your heart, the conviction in his voice broke apart those vines, planted a precious seed called hope. One that you knew he’d help in guarding.

“Well,” You looked off to the side, acting casual, “I’m kinda free today. I decided to call in to work. I feel like I deserved a day off. If someone isn’t busy… maybe we can watch Coraline?”

Chan tilted his head, humming as he feigned consideration. A big smile broke out as he wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and then setting you down. “Sounds perfect.”

“Like you?”

“Ohhhh,” He pointed at you as you both started heading back to the complex, “That was smooth.”

Throwing his arm across your shoulder, pulling you close, there was no negative thought that could creep into the oasis that you and him had worked so hard to build. 

Chemistry? You’re important, necessary for your major. But with Chan by your side, you’re not so scary anymore.

[kim-bobbae]

87. “I saved you a seat.”

“I don’t get it,” He said flatly, evidently annoyed. “You’re always complaining about me being away and when I’m finally back you’re throwing a fit cos me sitting here and watching you work stresses you out? Come on.”

“I’m not throwing a fit,” You argued.

“Yeah?” He challenged, raising a brow as he folded his arms and leaned back on the sofa behind your desk, eyes staring you down.

“What?”

“Do you want my company or not?” He asked, the straightforwardness catching you a little off guard.

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to…” You murmured, then clicked your tongue in annoyance at the sound of your email notification as you swiveled in your chair and turned your attention back to your desktop.

“If you don’t want to…” He repeated after you, rolling his eyes.

He knew very well that you were ‘in the zone’ with the pile of work that you had to do, and how fickle minded yet demanding your client was being on a Saturday night was doing nothing to make your job any easier. But he especially hated it whenever you used that line on him because what the fuck, why did it have to be on him. There he was, despite being jet lagged himself, giving you shoulder massages and trying to talk you through your stresses but all he got in response was you swatting his hands away and asking him to leave you alone cos it was getting distracting.

“Yeah whatever I don’t really deserve this crap after trying so hard to help you keep your emotions in check if you, a grown working professional, can’t deal with your own responsibilities,” He stated.

And that kinda hurt.

“Jay-” You started, swallowing a potential outburst as your eyes were still fixated on the screen, scanning through the endless lines of requirements your client had just sent, unreasonably asking to be met by the same night.

He watched as you closed your eyes, dropped your head to the table and your hands grabbed at your hair, then wordlessly picked up his keys and cast one last glance before making his way out of the study.

“I’m just trying to finish so I can make it-” You tried explaining after calming down, but the click of the main door signaling that he had left your apartment only drew out a long, heavy sigh. “…tonight.”

 --

“Ayeee,” Gray greeted as soon as Jay entered the office.

“Long time no see!”

“Hey,” He said with a small smile.

Having left your house a few hours ago, Jay had sought solace in his studio, attempting to distract himself by working on some new tracks but obviously none of them were coming out satisfactory and it was adding on to his exasperation on top of the whole episode between the two of you this afternoon.

It rarely ended with him walking out on you even though he usually preferred to have some time to cool off before talking it out on the occasion that you guys argued. But ever since he left for the world tour, you struggled to keep yourself mentally sane with the ridiculous workload that you were facing at your new job and the lack of mental and emotional support. It was easier when he was around – you would bring your work to his office if you had to work overtime, he would come over to write his lyrics, but more importantly, he could pull you into his arms whenever he saw that the stress was driving you up the wall.

Needless to say, the past five months was a real struggle with you often crying over the phone to him despite your best efforts to keep it in. He knew the nature of your work and your low threshold for work stress, but he didn’t expect that you would have driven him away even after not seeing him for so long when he had put in the effort to spend time with you instead of recovering from his jet lag.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” Kiseok asked, reaching his hand out for a handshake.

“Yeah of course,” He shrugged.

“Is Ji Eun not joining us tonight?”

“Maybe later, she’s kinda held up at work,” He replied, casually going over to the refrigerator to grab himself a drink to avoid any further questions about you.

It worked, though, as everyone went on to catch up with one another, chilling with some card games and Nitendo Switch as per the usual.

The guys at AOMG had arranged for a casual gathering at the office on a Saturday night to congratulate Jay on concluding his successful world tour.

“You coming?” 

Your phone buzzed, and you diverted your attention from your bedroom ceiling to your mobile phone as the message preview from Hoody lit up the screen.

It was only three hours into the said time of the party when you had finally sent out the documents to your client, a huge wave of relief coming over you as you slumped into your seat, wanting to just stare into blank space and do absolutely nothing for a while.

“I don’t know, should I? I just got done with work and it’s super late though.”

“Duh, it’s a party for Jay, come and chill out. Pretty sure he’s been waiting, he seems pretty restless.”

You sighed, putting your phone face down on the table then rubbed your face, sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was a no brainer that you wanted to be there to celebrate the occasion with him. More than that, it was the end of all the woes of long distance that the both of you were more excited about cos if anyone thought Jay was busy in Korea, he was almost untouchable on a tour, though you had to commend his efforts to squeeze in a Facetime call every other night or sometimes even getting DJ Wegun to film it so you could watch him perform for a bit.

Maybe it was the fact that he had not been physically around you for so long that needed some getting used to, but you honestly didn’t mean to come off the wrong way when you asked him to leave you alone. Of course you wanted the hugs and the kisses, but at that point of time you just needed to get the work done as soon as possible.

“Ugh I’m a mess,” You groaned, as you walked over to the mirror beside your wardrobe – the dark circles were deeper than the pits of your stomach and your complexion was embarrassing from the lack of proper sleep the past couple of days.

Nevertheless, you picked out a casual set of clothes and with some make up and self-convincing, you managed to get yourself out of the house and to the office.

Yeah, it’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be fun. You repeated mentally.

--

“Ji Eun!” Loco greeted with a grin as soon as you walked in.

“Hey…” You smiled, unable to mask the weariness in your voice. “Sorry I’m late, but I brought some chips to make up for it if that’s okay.”

Jay’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice, and the way everyone’s attention was turning to you made it impossible for him to avoid looking at you.

“Aw you didn’t have to,” Kiseok said, hands on your shoulders as he brought you over to where everyone else was sitting.

“Everything at work okay?” Elo asked gently, noticing your lack of energy.

“Oh you know, the usual,” You shrugged.

Taking a quick glance around you had noticed that the only seat available was the one beside Jay and it was then when you linked arms with Hoody and walked towards the ice box, naturally avoiding Jay as you caught up with her in a hushed conversation. After all, you didn’t want to put it out there that their boss just had a fight with his girlfriend, nor did you want to ruin the atmosphere with talk about work at a party.

Jay could not help but take quick glances at you from time to time, the crease in your forehead and the subtle frown on your face as you spoke about what he assumed to be work woes to Hoody only making him feel worse about this afternoon. After all, you guys haven’t had proper quality time since he touched down yesterday for him to notice the weight you had lost and your lack of energy.

“You okay?” Loco asked, noticing how Jay went quiet ever since your arrival.

“Ya Hoody, don’t steal his girl, it’s his party today,” Ugly Duck remarked, turning all the attention on you.

“Sorry wha-?”

“Join us, we were just getting started with another round of drinks!” Sungwoo chimed.

“I saved you a seat,” Jay said in the quietest voice, barely looking at you as he cleared his throat.

You bit your lip, looking up at Jay for a split second before the both of you looked away from each other simultaneously. You tried as best as possible to stall for time and lingered awkwardly around Wonjae at the opposite end of the room. By now, it was becoming a little obvious that something wasn’t right between the both of you, but they knew better than to spell it out until a slightly tipsy Kiseok broke the silence.

“What? Afraid that you’ll jump on each other? Go ahead, we’ll look away,” Kiseok chuckled.

Seeing that Jay was having none of it as he smacked Kiseok’s head with a cushion, you took the opportunity while their attention was diverted and excused yourself to the pantry.

You sighed, unwrapping a bowl of instant ramen as you began regretting your decision to even turn up at the party when really, you would rather curl up in bed with Netflix than tread carefully around Jay after months of long distance.

Jay figured that it wasn’t wise to drag this out any longer and finally got up from the couch, biting on his inner cheek as he walked up to you quietly. There you were, sitting on the bar stool at the island, propping your chin on your hand as you stared blankly at the electric kettle not even noticing that he had walked right up beside you.

“Haven’t had dinner?”

“Oh…no, kinda made my way here as soon as I was done,” You explained, surprised, then pressed your lips to form a tight line.

He then reached for the bowl, unwrapping the condiments and wordlessly prepared it for you.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

“No worries.”

And for a while you sat there, looking at him whilst biting on your lip, not exactly sure of what to say to get rid of the deafening silence.

Noticing this from the side of his eye, he let out a soft chuckle, “What?”

“Nothing,” You replied, and as he looked at you with a brow raised, you sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drive you away...”

“Me too,” He sighed, leaning down to rest his elbows on the island as he brought his face closer to yours. “I’m sorry.”

A part of you wanted to go off on a long ass apology, but a part of you didn’t want to start this whole drama all over again, nor did you really have any emotional energy left in you. Instead, you simply looked at him, the both of you staying like that for the longest time.

“I know, you don’t have to say anything,” He said, finally wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you closer to him.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 3. Our Place in the Cosmos

‘I wish we had all been born birds instead’ Kurt Vonnegut

“Réveille toi, princesse!”, Louis bellowed, barging into my room first thing the next morning, “Time do doll up for the day! No little birdies coming to help!”

I responded the way I always did, by grunting half-heartedly, hoping it would be enough for him to leave me alone; it never was.

“Mags?” 

I felt the mattress dip to my left and then a sudden pull to the blanket. Prepared, however, with more than two decades of him in my life, I was already holding tighter to it.

“Come on, I brought coffee! Get up and look! I even added cream and powdered cocoa, just how you like it.”

I took in a deep breath, emerging from my blanket cocoon just enough to look at him with one eye, raising one eyebrow.

“I asked the chef, it’s the intention that matters.”

Sighing, I pulled myself up slightly to half-sit against the bed frame. I pulled the blanket off a little more, enough for one arm and half of my face to be out, and took the mug from him.

“Praise!” Louis looked up, in mock-reverence, “For the sacrificial bean potion has been accepted by the beast! The kingdom is spared another day!”

I rolled my eyes, or tried to in my sleep, but stuck to the coffee smell entering my nostrils as I blew it lightly, allowing the first sip to wake me up a little.

I’d been having the weirdest dream; I was in the conference room at work and my entire company was sitting around the room. At the head of the table, my bosses. They were all staring at me as I struggled through a presentation I couldn’t for the life of me remember and when I looked at the screen behind me, it was a powerpoint filled with images of Harry.

‘Care to explain, Your Royal Highness?’, my boss asked, which was weird, because no one at work treated me as HRH. 

‘He was just joking!’, I justified, hurriedly. ‘Of course he was joking!’

‘He seemed pretty serious, Margueritte’, said my other boss. ‘He was even jealous of your ex.’

‘Where would you live? If you married?’, asked Sophie, one of my colleagues. 

‘They’re both spares, so neither needs to inherit…’

‘I guess neither is needed at their own country, they could live in Savoy.’

‘No, she would have to move to England, of course.’

‘Why?!’

‘She’s the woman. They would make her.’

‘But her career is here!’

‘She can be a lawyer anywhere!’

‘Do you really think the British Royal family would allow her to continue to work?’

‘Guys!’, I started yelling, but my voice wouldn’t come out, ‘He was just kidding! Of course it would never work! Guys! We’re not together!’

‘What will the press say?’

‘What will her grandmother say?!’

“Maggie?!” Louis snapped his fingers in front of my face. 

Startled, I sighed, closing my eyes, trying to will the nightmare into oblivion. 

“You still talk in your sleep, huh?”

I looked at him, feeling my blood run cold. I cleared my throat, but didn’t say anything.

As a teenager, he always managed to get information out of me by pretending he heard me say something in my sleep and allowing me time to start justifying myself or ask incriminating questions before I even knew what he heard. With time, I learned. Say nothing. If he really heard something, he’ll eventually ask specifically.

“Who’s Mary?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Did you have a dream about Jesus? Because you were also saying ‘I’m a catholic! There’s nothing I can do about it!’, so maybe it was the mother of Jesus?”

Of course I knew what that meant. Harry had called me “Mary” at least thirty times the day before. And being anglican, Harry could lose his title if he married a catholic, a fact I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I knew, or when I learned. 

“Maybe.” I said.

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something, allowing me time to drink my coffee. A song started playing, slightly upbeat, with an indie feeling to it. I tried to remind myself to ask the name later, but had no energy at that moment.

I heard a noise and realized he’d taken a selfie of us.

“Pourquoi?”, I sighed.

“Just texting Lou.”

Both Louis and Lourdes, our sister, used ‘Lou’ as a nickname. It made for confusing conversations with other family members or friends, but amongst the three of us, we always knew who we were talking about, so we rarely used their names.

He showed me his phone, smiling, a minute or two later. There was a selfie in reply from Lourdes. It was a Saturday so she was home from boarding school, and the picture showed herself in bed with an open laptop nearby and some young teenager paused mid-sentence on it.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I think she’s watching youtube.” He returned. 

“She should be asleep.”

“She has ice skating practice soon.”

I sighed again, heavily. “She does too much.”

“Did she send you a video of a new move yesterday?”

“It’s possible. She sends me a lot of videos.”

“She’s getting really good.”

The coffee had gone cold, so I sunk into bed again and shoved the mug in his general direction.

“Put it over there.” He said, dismissively, eyeing the bedside table to my other side. 

I whined something incoherent, pleading as I sank lower into the blanket, but he made no move for the mug.

“I’m not taking it, you gotta get up, anyway.”

“Ugh.” Forcing myself to turn to my side, I stretched and pushed the mug into the bedside table, near my phone. 

Clicking the screen twice, I looked at my notifications. A couple texts from my friends and a few emails. I clicked it dark again and let the blankets consume me.

“Have you heard from Chris?”

I sighed loudly, more for him to be able to gather my annoyance than out of actual necessity.

“Non.”

There was a pause.

“You know we have to leave soon, right?”

I whined again.

“I know.” He sighed. “How’s work?”

I sighed, trying to respond like a normal, awake version of myself.

“Good.”

“Nice."

I constructed a sentence in my head, about how I had to stop taking time off if I wanted to be taken seriously as a lawyer, and how dad had promised me he’d let me focus on my career after he moved back home. Instead, what I said was,

“How’s school?”

He sighed. “Good.”

There was a pause, but I didn’t hear his fingers on his phone anymore. I closed my eyes again and started feeling a cosy sleepiness take over once more, as if it never left.

“Peter came out to his family.”

I opened my eyes again. 

“...I thought - oh. I thought everyone knew.”

“They… knew.” He said, uncertain. “His friends knew. His parents knew, but… pretended they didn’t. His extended family definitely didn’t know.”

I stretched a hand towards the bedside table, hovering over the vertical stripes of the wood. It was a victorian style chest with copper edges, two small drawers and a victorian lampshade on top. I knew there were 17 vertical stripes in the wood facing the bed - I had been counting them the night before after the Mayor’s ball, when I couldn’t sleep, thinking of how the edges matched the hair in a certain jerk.

“How… how did it go?” 

My brother sighed. 

“Fine.”

I turned in bed to face him, and waited. 

Peter was Louis’ roommate since his second year at the University of Edinburgh, when he left the dorms in search for more privacy. They met at an econ class and soon discovered they had a lot more in common than it seemed. Peter was also from an upper class family with a lot of generational wealth and property to look after, and was also studying in Edinburgh to find some space in which he could figure himself out before he had to dedicate his life to the family business.

“...I don’t know.” He admitted. “I guess, from what he said, it sounds like it went better than expected?”

“His parents came to your birthday party a couple years ago, right?” He nodded. “I remember them; they seemed nice.”

“They are, they’re lovely! It’s just… His father has an estate up north. It’s been with them for generations. Peter doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, so he has to inherit. And you know the aristocracy, right? They’re…”

“Overly conservative? Stuck in the past? Assholes?”

He smiled, slightly, then shrugged. “He needs to provide an heir.”

“He can, though.”

“He knows… it’s just…”

“Unusual.”

Louis let out a long breath; “Yeah.”

“Maybe they just need time.”

“His family does this… thing, every year. They’re big on Christmas. So they plan this whole, really long family holiday, with a trip, and activities, and theme nights…”

“I know, you spent Christmas with them last year.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “It was the most fun I had with older British people ever since I moved here.”

I smiled; my family had its own Christmas traditions, but as royals we didn’t have any commitments until New Year’s Eve, when there was a televised ceremony at the Capital and a speech from my father. It was nice, it gave us room to do whatever we wanted for the holidays, as a family, not property of the country. We could stay with mom’s family, or Lourdes could go skiing with a friend’s family, or I could go to Cabo with college friends in my junior year… so it wasn’t unusual for Louis to decide to spend last year’s holiday with Peter’s family, specially when his family made such a big deal of those days.

“It’s such a big spectacle, they start planning months in advance… Peter said they usually have already started an email thread at this point in the year… And he hasn’t received anything.”

“It’s October.” I reasoned.

His smile was sadder now. “His cousin said she’s in a thread.”

I sighed. “This…”

“I know.” He added, when I couldn’t find words.

I knew Peter, of course. Being only a couple years younger than me, Louis was basically my best friend. Not the one I talked to the most, but definitely the one who knew me better than anyone in the world. We loved Lourdes with our whole hearts, but she was more than a decade younger than me. 

As a result of that close age difference, Louis and I had a lot of friends in common. Even though I went to an all-girls boarding school in Belgium, and he to an all-boys boarding school in Savoy, we had the weekends at home, and the school holidays. And polo matches at the club, and charity events with family friends, and we always ended up meeting the other’s friends from school one way or another. 

Peter, then, became a fixture in our lives, and it broke my heart to know something so silly could be wrecking him without my knowledge.

“You should invite him home for Christmas.” I told Louis. “Invite him to come to Savoy. I think we’ll be at Corsilla Castle this year; it’s right by the beach, he’ll love it.”

He considered it for a few moments, but his brows were troubled. 

“I don’t know… He already has to deal with paparazzi at the entrance of our building and following us to class because of me… I don’t want to throw him even more to the wolves.”

I sat up in bed, adjusting my shirt. “It won’t be that bad! Remember my third year of University, when I brought Kat and Amanda home for Christmas? Paparazzi followed us around because of me, but then they went home without me and they were fine.”

He nodded. "I'll wait a bit more, see if they'll come around. If not, then I'll ask." 

I smiled. "Good."

Laying back again, I pulled the sheets to my neck, and turned back to the bedside table, closing my eyes.

It wasn't even five seconds before I felt a pillow hit my thigh. 

"What?!" I jumped.

"Get up!" he said, looking distressed.

--- ---- ---

After breakfast at Clarence House, I rode to the British Parliament with Louis and our father. I wore a nude, midi length, blazer-like wrap dress with two rows of buttons and a tank top of the same color underneath to make the neckline more conservative, with shoes and hat were of the same color. 

We sat in the House of Commons and watched as my father was introduced and delivered an address on the honor it was to be at the ‘center of British democracy’, and ‘how fortunate we are in Savoy to have such an ally across the sea’. I sat in my seat attempting not to look bored, which was a feat to behold as I had heard that speech a bunch of times in preparation for the trip. It was just as hard not to mouth the lines along with my father.

Over the past few years, tensions had been growing between the two islands: the British and the Savoyen governments were in conflict over the right way to handle the immigration crisis slowly taking over Europe from Syria. England, Savoy and France were all interchangeably accessible through the Eurostar, and that free access was generating higher immigration numbers, and because unlike France, Savoy hadn’t yet toughened their regulations over the issue, the British were more than a little upset at our government for, as they said, ‘facilitating the entry to Great Britain’. 

That’s what we were there to do, smile and wave and appear friendly to strengthen our diplomatic ties. And that was the main issue my father was subtly talking about in his speech. Our need to come together and find solutions to benefit the many, yada, yada, yada.

“I’m thinking of skipping the meetings to go with you to your event.”

I looked at him. Louis was still looking at our father as he talked about the economic partnerships between the countries.

“The meetings are important. Dad is talking to a lot of representatives.”

“I know, but he doesn’t really need me.”

I sighed. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Just have Cadie send a press release to inform people I’ll go.”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

I made sure to keep a smile on my face during the exchange, but as soon as had shaken all the appropriate hands and posed for the necessary photographs in front of the press, I pulled him into a quiet corner of the hallway while dad gave a short interview to a British journalist. 

“You can’t come with me.”

“Why not?”

“Louis, your responsibility is to help dad with diplomatic affairs.”

He rolled his eyes. “There won’t even be press there.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Stop stage-whispering, they’re gonna hear you.”

I took a step forward and gave my back to the people on the other end of the hallway.

“Papa is counting on you. The press is not important, it’s about…” I sighed, searching for help in my memories of the preparatory meeting Auguste made me attend. “It’s about building a relationship of trust with the people you’ll be working with when you’re king.”

“Maggie.” He took in a long breath. “Fine. Okay, you’re right.” He shrugged, sighing.

“You’ll do great. Remember, you’re here to learn.”

“Alright, fine, now you’re sounding like Maman.”

--- ---- ---

The Duchess of Cambridge was nothing but bright and bubbly, the picture of politeness when I met her that morning at the gravel driveway into Clarence House. The team figured it would be weird if we saw each other for the first time in public and had to make introductions in front of the whole world, so she was kind enough to drive to Clarence House so we could leave for our engagement together. 

I arrived from Parliament, where I left my father and brother to their meetings with elected officials, and had just enough time to change into a different outfit and remove my hat before I rushed down the stairs to meet the woman the world knew as Kate Middleton waiting in the drawing room with the Duchess of Cornwall.

The dress I was wearing now was silk and down to my knees, tied under my chest with a bow, bellow a V shaped neckline that stretched into long, bishop, sleeves. The Duchess of Cambridge was wearing a green envelope dress, midi-length, and nude shoes, with her silky, golden brown hair falling down her shoulders in perfect waves. She and the Duchess of Cornwall were sitting in armchairs, leaning towards each conspiratorially. They looked up at me when I walked in with Cadie, with an air about them that gave me the distinct impression I was the subject of their recent whispering.

With a mid-thought smile on their lips, they stood up.

“Your Royal Highness, may I present, Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge.”

“Your Royal Highness, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said, extending a hand, which I shook just as she flexed her legs down in a curtsey.

It was a bit of a gray area, who curtsied to whom between the two of us, because, although we both technically held the same spot in the lines of succession of our countries, I was there as a royal by blood, and she was only the consort of one; still, I wouldn’t have expected her to curtsey, so I curtsied too.

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Royal Highness. And please call me by name.”

“Well, then you must too. Call me Catherine.”

“You can just use Margueritte, if it’s easier. I make no fuss over our obnoxious French R’s.”

They chuckled.

“I will admit it shouldn’t be too difficult to skip the formal titles, I do feel as though I know you well already.” She exchanged a look with the Duchess of Cornwall that could only be described as knowing, and then said, in a forcibly casual tone, “I have heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” 

They stared at me, smiling. Behind me, Cadie was aiming her wide eyes at the ground; brows raised, an amused grin in her lips.

“Good things I hope.”

“Oh, of course.” Catherine laughed. “Nothing but good things!”

“A little too good, perhaps.”

Of my current options - ignore it altogether, try to pretend I misinterpreted their meaning or face it head on - I decided it was safer, more diplomatic perhaps, to stay in the middle. 

“We’re not as famous as Britain in Savoy, but we do get on the news sometimes.” I said, with a small shrug. “So long as you don’t believe everything you read. Unless it’s good.”

They chuckled again, but the Duchess of Cambridge seemed as if she wanted to contest my understanding, but decided against it.

“Of course.” She agreed, finally.

“And lucky you.” Added the woman to her right.

“We should get going, then.” Catherine’s aide, a young brunette, added from the door.

I curtsied to the Duchess of Cornwall, who wished us luck before kissing her step-daughter-in-law’s cheeks and waving us into the car.

There was a palpable shift within Catherine when we were in the car, alone if not for the driver and her aide in the front. Her hands were fidgety, her eyes moving quickly between the window by her side and the one in the front. At times I thought she might have looked at me as well, only for a moment, one from the corners of her eyes. 

She seemed level-headed. Mature. Sensible. So she could reasonably have meant something else entirely by what she said… what I said about the press, perhaps. Because what could Harry even have said about me? He barely knew me. It was only the day before that we met (officially, that is). How much time would he have had to talk about me to his family? Did he run home and told them of the cold, overly polite Princess he’d just met who kept rebuking his advances?

I looked over at her, who still seemed slightly fidgety, definitely more than when the Duchess of Cornwall was with us. I wondered if there was a particular reason, or if maybe she was just shy. Maybe she was also thinking of all those times she’d heard so much of me.

Her aide spoke before either of us did.

“Ma’am, why don’t you tell Her Royal Highness why we chose Place2Be to visit today?”

I was reminded of my mother, when she attempted to force me to talk to our adult guests at dinner parties when I was younger.

“Right.” The Duchess smiled. “Well, I’ve always really loved children. So after I got married, I was meant to chose organizations I’d like to support and I decided to start with children. Place2Be is was the first, it’s where I made my first speech. They…  they help children.” 

There was an awkward break. I wondered if that was it. Was that it? That seemed like a very short answer, though I suppose a case could be made that it was to the point.

My mother had made me attend enough etiquette lessons growing up to know that the host is supposed to make conversation, so I wanted to stay quiet, but the only thing I had to occupy myself with were my own thoughts, and that was unacceptable.

“I remember my first speech. It was… a nightmare, honestly.” I chuckled to myself. “And no matter how many of these things I do, I still get so anxious beforehand.”

She looked over at me, and I saw immediate relief and surprise wash over her features.

“Really?!” She shook her head in disbelief. “So do I! At times I’m shocked I don’t trip on my feet!”

“I used to only wear low shoes when I first started, I was afraid of the very same.” I confessed, with an embarrassed smile.

“And I do prepare, of course! I do all the work-”

“Exactly, it’s not about the work, just… the-”

“Responsability.”

“Yes!”

The way she smiled in response, shoulders dropping, voice wavering, I wondered how often she had been told by her own team all the things she should and shouldn’t do during these events; If I couldn’t escape Auguste’s nagging, and my father was the King, what hope did she have? Merely marrying into a family where her husband was still the heir to the heir.

As it turns out, the charity Catherine chose to show me, Place2Be, didn’t just ‘help kids’; it helped the communities around them as well, providing lunches, and courses for the parents, and and counseling tools for the children to learn how to properly express their feelings in order to be healthier. They mainly worked with school, so on that afternoon we joined them in an event in a primary school in the outskirts of London that served mainly marginalized communities and families of immigrants. 

As we parked outside the simple yet lovely building, our security stepped our first, followed by our secretaries, and finally, the Duchess and I. At the entrance, the organizations’ leaders awaited to guide us in our visit, with the press lined up at the opposite direction, cameras ready to snap.

Friends often ask me what is running through my mind when I walk anywhere with the press on my heels. 'How can you think straight-', they'll say, 'with those cameras and flashes following you so up close?'. The truth is, I do not think at all when forced to walk with the press watching. Things like arriving at events, such as this one, where the flashed are so constant it mostly just looks like the room merely has weirdly artificial lighting. I don't have time to look around and register or appreciate the landscape, or take notice of who is watching and what they might be thinking of me. All I can do is walk straight up, either taking the lead or, in this case, following it, and shake the hands I was suppose to and say the pleasantries I was suppose to, all making sure I have a smile on my face and my skirt isn’t blowing with the wind. 

There were two women waiting for us in the entrance, one was wearing a dress, the other a pantsuit. I‌ let Catherine go first, and after she had shaken their hands, and they had each done a short, polite curtsey, she turned around and introduced me as ‘Princess Marie-Margueritte’, with a perfect French pronunciation. 

The school was simple enough, brick walls with colorful art, posters about washing one’s hands and treating others with politeness. There was a smaller group of reporters inside, following us along as we walked, and our aides were taking pictures or videos themselves. 

As we walked, Angela, the principal in a pantsuit, was telling us about the progress the children had undergone since the school began its partnership with Place2Be. Less temper tantrums, more willingness to talk things through. Michelle, the representative from Place2Be, told us about the art therapy initiatives, which helped the children learn how to better process and express their feelings, and about the researches that showed children that were incentivized to talk about what they felt were less likely to develop mental health issues.

We passed by classrooms and halls until we arrived at a room with wide, round tables, knee high, filled with children and a few teachers. We walked in, reciprocating their timid, excited smiles, and another Place2Be specialist introduced us and welcomed us to take seats in a table in the middle, where two tiny chairs had been left empty for us, side by side. There was a hilarious moment when we realized just how low the chairs were as we tried to take our seats, and shared a mildly desperate look, before starting to giggle at the same time. We eventually sat down, knees together as demanded by etiquette, and said hello to our table mates, Audrey, Matthew, Safiya and Thomas. 

The instructor told us the exercise we were doing today was called safety net, like one an equilibrist might use in a circus to make sure if he falls he won’t get hurt, she said. The gist of it was, in our lives our safety net was the people we could count on to talk to or to help us if we felt troubled, like family or trusted teachers. They gave us sheets of paper and crayons, and told us to draw our safety nets, or something that represented them, which is when I sighed, looking at Catherine.

“I’m a terrible artist.” I told her. 

She chuckled, cheeks red, and seemed to ponder her words before she spoke.‌ “No pressure, only all the reporters will see.”

I‌ smiled, noticing her a little more comfortable now, sarcasm and all.

I looked at tiny, Asian little Audrey to my right, “do you think they’ll accept a stick figure? It’s all I can draw.”

She giggled and showed me her drawing, already a red man with strangely large hands and comically crooked legs, “Like this!”

“Yes,‌‌ I’ll try to do as well as you!” 

I ended up drawing only faces - they did say I could draw something to represent my safety net. In truth, I‌ would have drawn some of my friends, like Stella, Constance or Kat. Maybe even Sophie or Larissa, from work. But bringing up friends during royal engagements was practically asking the press to talk about them, and I did not wish that on anybody. 

So I drew exactly who I knew they would expect me to, my family. Of course I could count on my family, even if I had to put my career and goals on hold to help them with no early notice just because they needed me. Even if my brother seemed to not be putting much effort into coming home as soon as he should. Of course I could always count on them. And regardless, it’s not like I could draw anything else. Not when this was my job. Even if I needed space, they were, after all, the job.

“Woah.”‌ I told Catherine. “That is amazing.”

I wasn’t even exaggerating; she had drawn a pretty good, torso only version of her husband, with a bundle on his arms which I suppose was their son, Prince George. There was another adult figure by his side, with larger shoulders and a stronger jaw - I was seriously amazed at her ability with crayons. As I watched, she was filling in his hair with an orange one; I felt my heart in my throat. I knew that orange.

“Thank you,”‌ she said, timidly, “Yours are not so bad either!”

I‌ had four crooked circles in my sheet of paper, all black, and I had just managed to fill out two with weird, tiny dots for eyes and large, wavy lines for hair. 

“You are too kind.”‌ I told her, half-laughing. 

“Who are they?”, asked Thomas, the little boy to her left, pointing at her drawing.

“I drew my husband and my son, and my brother-in-law, Harry.” She told him, sweetly. “My husband is very patient and dedicated, he always helps me when I need, and he is a really good daddy. And his brother is very sweet.”

I kept my eyes to my black blobs, adding a hat to the one that was supposed to be my mother to hide the weird hair I had done, trying not to listen to her even though she was sitting right next to me.

“He is really kind, and really good with his nephew, and always makes people laugh.” She turned to look at me.‌‌ “You know Harry, don’t you, Margueritte?”

I‌ looked at her, feeling weirdly warm. “Harry?” She nodded.‌ “Prince Harry, you mean?” She nodded again, smiling. “Yes, we’ve met.”

I looked back at my drawing, now doing a ball on top of Lourdes’ head, as she was always wearing her hair in a bun for ballet or training. 

“Don’t you think he’s a sweetheart?”

“Well, I… Yes, he seems nice.”

I drew Lourdes’ hair a bit more forcefully, making it almost look as if she had a second head on top of her own.

“And he’s so funny. And a truly loyal friend, you can always count on him.”

This, I‌ thought, was a lot. So I sighed, and looked at her, brows furrowed, trying to decipher what exactly she was trying to do, but she was focused on her own drawing again, now giving Harry some freckles.

“He is very dedicated to his work, too. He and William love animals, and conservation work, and we started working on mental health a while back, that’s very important to both of them.”

“How nice.”‌ I said, moving on to one last circle, giving Louis - or attempting to - thin eyes and a long, thin nose. 

“How did the two of you meet?” she asked.

I‌ leaned in.‌ “Did he ask you to ask that?”

“No.”‌ She said, a faint note of surprise in her voice, but her reddening cheeks gave her away. “Why would he?”

“No reason.‌”‌ I‌ told her, smiling.‌ “We met a while ago.”

She nodded. “He talked a lot about you yesterday.”‌ 

“Did he?” I asked, now adding my brother’s long, wavy hair.

“He did…” She leaned in again, and whispered to me, “I‌ think you made an impression.”

“Well, that’s… good. I think.”

“He’s single, you know.”

The crayon in my hand broke. I‌ looked at her. She was… redder than I had seen her yet and, looking uncomfortable, she focused on her own work again.

“Whoever he ends up with will be really lucky, I think.”

“That’s…” I tried, my voice hoarse. “That’s nice.”

“Woah, I don’t have that much hair!”

I turned around. On my other side, there was Louis. 

The kids all turned around to look at him, in some kind of awe. The reporters in the front of the class started snapping their flash-photography more viciously. 

“Oh, hello.” Catherine smiled up at him.

“Good afternoon.”‌ He smiled back, sharing her hand, before waving it to the room. “Hello, everyone!”

“Welcome, Your Royal Highness!” The Place2‌Be instructor brought a chair for him, placing it after Audrey, and addressed the children, telling them who he was and asking Matthew, by his side, to explain to him the exercise. 

“Oh, so that’s why my sister was drawing me!”‌ He said, cheerily, after hearing the explanation. “That’s so sweet, Marie-Margueritte, even if you completely over did my hair, which I will attempt not to take personally.”

A reporter took three steps to the center of the room, and raised a camera to capture us better. The movement put me on my guard, so I smiled at my brother. 

“I only drew what I see. You need a haircut.”

“I do not need a haircut!” He said, brushing his hair back with a lazy hand that, having known him all his life, I‌ knew was precisely calculated. 

“What do you think?”‌ I‌ asked Catherine, who startled, and laughed.

“Oh, I think you both look lovely!”

We laughed at her defensive reaction. 

“Very diplomatic.”‌ Louis nodded and began drawing something on his sheet of paper.

Another kid came walking towards us and stopped by Catherine to show her his drawing; naturally, all the paparazzi turned to her to capture the sweet moment. 

Louis used this moment to lean over to me. “Se détendre. Papa dit que je pouvais venir.”

Relax, he said, dad said I could come.

I‌ sighed, still smiling, but focused on the crayons. 

It was around this time that the teacher started telling the students that had finished their first task they could start on the second. She said, now that we had our safety net, we had someone we could tell our problems to. Sometimes, she said, all you need is to get those feelings out of yourself, even if you don’t find a magic answer.

So, instructed to draw a box and put the things that made me angry inside of it, I used three crayons and a lot of time to draw a 3D, colorful box, so that the time would run out before I had the time to draw anything to put into it. It did, so we left our drawings on the table, knowing they would be shown off for the world to see soon enough, and marched out of the room waving goodbye to the children. 

We were led into a crowded, large meeting room, where the teaching staff shared their biggest challenges and joys of teaching young children and the precise ways the organization had helped. Next, we sat down with older students who told us of the difficulties of being their age, and the things about the future that made them anxious. 

My brother stayed mostly quiet except to crack a joke or two, making everyone laugh at his charming, easy-going personality. I focused on Catherine, on the children, and on keeping the most sincere smile I‌ could muster on my face. 

Eventually, as we were preparing to leave, Auguste, who had come with Louis, leaned in to tell us, in a whisper, that dad had been delayed in his meeting, and we should make ourselves busy before our next appointment, at which time the Duchess of Cambridge invited us for tea at her home.

Eventually, we shook all of their hands, thanked them for their time, and walked out of the school the same way we came in, to a large wall of reporters and a crowd of well-wishers. Normally, someone would suggest that we go shake their hands, thank them for coming, but I could feel my anger-box starting to crack, so I took matters into my hands.

Though Catherine’s aide volunteered to drive separately so me and my brother could go with her, I insisted she go with her boss, who I was sure, ‘would need her’. That way Cadie drove with the security, and I joined my brother and Auguste in the car they had come in.

“I know you want to yell at me,” he started, when we were seated, as the security closed the doors, and Auguste got in in the front seat, “but more importantly, did you get a text from Lou today?”

I smiled at the people outside and waved, silent.

“Oh, right.” He said, copying me. “It was a video. She finally perfected a double axel, she’s getting really good!”

After we took off, my smile dropped, and I turned to him.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fous ici?!”

He threw his head back against the seat. “Papa said it was fine for me to leave!”

“Or course he did. Why does it matter?! You have a job to do, Louis. You can’t just half-ass this job!”

“I know very well what I am supposed to do, thank you very much.”

“Do you?! Because it doesn’t seem like it!”

Auguste took a deep breath in the front seat, turning back towards us. “Perhaps there’s a better time for this discussion?”

“Shut up, Auguste!”

“Don’t be rude!”

“You need to understand you have a responsibility!”

“There was no press there, me being there would make no difference.”

“Not everything in this job is about the press!”

“Will you stop acting like you’re my boss?! You’re not Maman.”

I looked at the window, feeling more frustrated than I ever had. “You think of nothing, of no one but yourself.”

“Yes, and I should be more like you, and put everyone ahead of my every need. Because that’s healthy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You spent your whole life letting them dictate your every move and then you complain that it’s hard?! Yes, Maggie, we know it’s hard-”

“I did this for you!” I screamed. 

“I never asked you to-”

“No, you didn’t! They did! Because they wanted to give you time to live your life before you had it committed to the monarchy forever! But guess what, Louis? It’s not a magic trick! Someone has to pick up the slack, and that someone is me!”

“You are not a victim here! They make you do these things because you let them-!”

“Because they need us! Because this job is taxing, and toxic, and exhaustive, and it’s our job to help!”

“You help because you want to-”

“I help because you’re in Scotland gallivanting around with Peter and somebody has to pick up the slack!”

“You know why I am in Scotland! You know what is waiting for me-”

“I do! But you don’t know that every day you’re not home I am sacrificing my career and my life as well!”

“You’ve done this your whole life, Maggie! You’ve always been like this-”

“Like what?! Like this what?!”

“Desperate to be the good girl! To be the child our parents think of when they needs someone responsible, and efficient. They place the burden on you because you let them! Ever since we were kids, you always acted like a third parent even though you shouldn’t have, so don’t blame me for your choices!”

“You don’t think I want to live my life?! You don’t think I want to travel somewhere people won’t know me or my family? You don’t think I want to text dad that I can’t come to this ceremony or that one because I am busy with my own things?! Who would help, Louis? You’re not home! Adrien is always away with Faye. Lourdes is too young. He is just one person!”

As my voice cracked, I turned to the window, trying to dry one tear before it fell. 

“...you don’t have to cry.”

“You know saying that doesn’t help!” I yelled, now crying more.

He extended a handkerchief, which I took, drying my tears before they could fall down my cheeks.

There was a long, awkward, painful silence in the car. 

“All I’m saying is,” he started, slowly, almost obnoxiously calm, “Stop placing the blame on me for not setting some boundaries and going after the life you want.”

I laughed, humorless. 

“You really think I don’t want to? I have a career, Lou. I have friends and loved ones, too. You did not invent a personal life. I want to live mine, but this family we were born into does not offer an opt out option.”

He sighed. “I think you’re angry at yourself and you’re taking that on me.”

“Really?” I rolled my eyes. “Explain that to me.”

“You’re angry at mom and dad for giving you more than you can handle, you’re angry at yourself for letting them, and you’re angry at Chris for the-”

“I am angry at you!” I yelled. “Mom and dad, too, of course, but you’re the one that is running away from your responsibilities! You want to know why I have to take all of this on? Because while you’re here, tucked away and safe from us and from every negative headline back home, Maman isn’t speaking to Aunt Katherine, and Aunt Stephanie heard about it! Your sister has driven away yet another chief of security, the third one in four years, and dad…” I sighed, “Dad is getting worse, Louis. Meanwhile, I am the one that has to keep everyone together to the expense of my own life and career, when this isn’t even my job. It’s yours.”

The only sound in the car was the sound of the wheels on gravel as we drove into Kensington Palace in awkward, heavy silence.

“We don’t have time for this.” I said, drying my tears, and trying to make sure my makeup wasn’t smudged in a hand mirror before we parked. “Just… behave.��

Though I did not look at him, I could almost hear his eyes roll before he forcefully opened the door and stepped out, as petulantly as when he was 8 and I told him he couldn’t play doll with me and our cousins. 

Kensington Palace was essentially built as one big set of squares and rectangles, which as most palaces in Europe, was now divided into sections, each being an 'apartment' given to specific families. The Cambridges' door was white, and by all means completely indistinguishable from the others. Louis had already ringed the doorbell when I reached him, and was avoiding my eyes, a pout in his lips, when Catherine's aide opened the door and welcomed us in; Louis and I were smiling again.

Catherine was in the kitchen making finger sandwiches as her husband watched, one hand to a glass of water, the other on a baby monitor. 

Louis marched straight to Prince William, shaking his hand as if they were long-time friends, but that meant nothing; that was just his normal personality.

"So you're the famous Princess Mary." William said to me when Catherine introduced us.

Her smile immediately dropped, and she placed a delicate, yet forceful hand on his shoulder. "William", she warned, "It's Marie-Margueritte."

"Right, apologies." He smiled. "I've heard so much about Princess Mary I suppose I just forgot it might have been a loving nickname."

Feeling myself blush, I cleared my throat, smiling sheepishly.

"I'm not so sure that's how I'd describe it."

"And why not?"

I didn't have to turn around to know who the owner of that voice was, I'd been replaying it in my head long enough to know. Even if I didn't, the knowing smiles on William and Catherine's lips would be telling enough.

“Harry!” Louis greeted joyfully, shaking his hand. “Long time no see. How excited are you to be crushed by us tomorrow at the polo match?

Even as he answered, laughing, his eyes kept coming back to me. “I think you need to check your overconfidence, Castillon.”

“I think you’ll regret underestimating me, Windsor.”

“What I’m learning from this is you’re fully capable of pronouncing our Royal House surname,‌ yet my name remains a mystery.”

He grinned at me, “It’s a loving nickname,‌‌ Mary.”

“It’s just… a name. Not my name. Just another name.”

“Regardless.”

To say it shocked me to see him was was an understatement, and yet, somehow, the moment it happened I‌ was also overwhelmed by a feeling of unmitigated relief to have him there.

On my ‘loving nickname’, Harry was unwavering. As Catherine had her husband set the table with the sandwiches, and asked what our favorite tea was, Harry talked happily with my brother about our trip, about his schooling, and about me, whom he kept referring to as ‘Mary’. I made a point to roll my eyes every time.

On his end, ‌Louis didn’t seem to find that odd at all, which made me angrier at him. I wanted to ask Catherine what the delicious smell coming from the oven was, and if she would be at the polo match tomorrow, but I‌ couldn’t drag myself away from standing peripherally around my brother and Harry, even though I had no participation in their conversation, hoping Harry would stop for one or two seconds to look at me instead, but he and Louis were now happily trashing the other’s favorite rugby team. 

I wasn't sure if it was the fight with Louis, or the wave of shock of seeing Harry again sooner than I had expected, yet somehow later than I wished, but I was suddenly annoyed. At Louis, for everything he'd said in the car. At Harry for focusing so deeply on his conversation with my brother instead of interrogating me again after apparently talking about me to both his brother and sister-in-law. But, perhaps more revealingly, at myself. 

It annoyed me that I cared. It annoyed me that I suddenly felt sixteen-years-old again, hoping a boy would look at me across the polo field. It annoyed me that I seemed to have been expecting him to arrive ever since saying goodbye the day before, as if it was a given he would. 

If forced with the choice of admitting I'd missed him or sticking knives into my eyes, I might pick the knives.

It was, however, when Harry asked if he was nervous about graduating, and Louis answered by saying he was looking forward to whatever came next, and that he was looking into maybe getting a master’s degree next, that I forced myself to leave.

I‌ asked Catherine if I‌ could use the restroom, and she directed me to the one upstairs, seeing as the one on the first floor was being re-tiled. I climbed up the large, hardwood stairs into a clean, minimalist looking second floor, easily finding the bathroom. I‌ washed my hands with cold water, placed them in the back of my neck for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, and tried to focus on calming memories.

Unfortunately, the most calming memory I‌ used to have - a skiing trip with Chris - was now tainted by the breakup, so it didn’t help. Instead, I‌ sat down on the edge of a bathtub, and pulled my phone from my handbag, checking my messages. 

Lourdes had texted another video, but this was a music video; the text read, ‘do you think I can do a routine to this?! i’m so obsessed!’

I replied, ‘why not? it sounds great!‘, without opening the link.

Constance, my longest childhood friend, had ominously sent: ‘Did Stella and Rick get back together?????? I have thoughts. Call me.’

I sighed, typing a reply rapidly; ‘I can’t talk now, I’m in London. Let’s have dinner when I get back and do another intervention.’

And skimming through an email my mother had sent, I now knew all her thoughts on how I should do my hair for the State dinner the following day. 

Telling myself it was mostly out of curiosity, I found Chris’ name in my list of old messages, and clicked through, seeing no new messages had arrived. I‌ blocked the phone, and went back outside.

When I was leaving the bathroom, before I could reach the stairs, I heard a soft wailing coming from a door to my right. It was half opened, and the room only lightly lit. Pushing the door forward, I recognized a beige and white nursery, and a moving bundle inside a wooden crib. 

“Bonjour, bebe!” I approached, as gently as I could, whispering softly. “Do you need mommy? Or papa?”

I looked at the door, hoping to see someone coming to fetch Prince George, but no one was there. 

“Alright.” I said, feeling slightly as if i was intruding, but not at all comfortable leaving the crying boy alone. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Placing him in my arms as swiftly as I could, I started to rock him from side to side.

“Should we go downstairs?” 

His face still contorted painfully, but the crying was a little more spaced out now. I figured his parents would know what to do and, as weird as it would be to just show up downstairs with him, it would be weirder to leave him behind. Turning to the door, however, I was startled once more by his uncle.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”‌‌ He smiled, looking at the baby. 

“How-?”

“Nanny-cam.” He answered, gesturing vaguely to the hallway, walking towards us.

“Oh.”‌ I‌ nodded. “He was crying, I didn’t want to leave him.”

He leaned down to look at the boy in my arms, raising one hand to his soft, tiny head as the citrus scent of his perfume overwhelmed me.

I‌ cleared my throat, trying to bring things back to familiar territory.

“Which bet did you lose to be put in nanny duty?” I joked.

He shrugged, smiling at his nephew.‌‌ “I‌ volunteered.‌ We’re buddies, aren’t we,‌ George?”

The baby stopped crying, looking at his uncle now making funny faces at him. It was hard not to smile.

“I‌ think he needs a nappy change. I‌ can take him if you want to go back downstairs.” Harry offered. 

“Oh, sure.”‌ 

Avoiding looking into his eyes from so close, I passed him his nephew - our arms touched in the exchange; I tried to suppress the little part of me that noticed he was surprisingly muscly. 

“We’ll meet you downstairs.”‌‌ He smiled, walking with the baby towards a changing station on the other side of the room. 

I walked through the door slowly, trying to delay having to go back downstairs where I‌ had to pretend I wasn’t upset at Louis, but stopped when he spoke again. Initially, I thought he was talking to me, but the baby tone quickly corrected that assumption.

“Did you go number one? Did you? Or two? What surprise awaits me, here, Georgie?” 

I leaned against the doorframe, smiling.

“Now, I‌ understand that a growing boy needs to go. We all do, it’s very normal. But I‌ just need you to prepare me, alright? How bad will it be once I‌ open this up?” 

I considered sincerely going downstairs, focusing on the diplomatic aspect of making friends with the more important people, the ones we were there for, his brother and sister-in-law. But, peering into the room again, I‌ saw Harry lean his tall frame closer to the baby, holding him still with one hand, trying to reach a far away drawer with the other. 

“Need help?”‌ I asked, stepping back inside. 

He jumped slightly, but smiled when he saw me. “Oh, I‌- I‌ thought you left.”

“I think you could use the help.” I‌ reached for the drawer he was going for, but looked back at him, questioningly. He nodded, so I‌ opened it, and found him a new nappy.

“Alright, team work it is.”‌ He said, “Keep him distracted so he doesn’t move as much.” 

I tried to distract George with a tiny, plush koala nearby, and uttered the first words that came to mind.

“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?”, I sang, dangling the koala from side to side, to the rhythm. “Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines… what?!”

Noticing Harry had stopped moving, I looked back at him, who was merely staring at me. 

“What?! You said to distract him.” I‌ justified, defensively. 

He shook his head, focusing on the task at hand again, with a renewed grin on his lips. 

“Don’t forget the cream.”‌ I‌ said, before he could close the tabs.

“Right.”‌ He nodded. “I‌ knew I‌ was forgetting something… Why are you good at this? Have any secret children the press can’t find out about?”

I‌ smiled at George, still dancing the little koala. “No, just two younger siblings and a bunch of little cousins I was constantly pretending were dolls.”

He chuckled, and closed the little adhesive tabs on the nappy, fiddling with the straps of his onesie now. “Where do these-?”

“Here.”‌ I said, handing him the koala, and finding the right buttons to close. “There we go.”

“Nice. What do we say to the pretty lady, Georgie? Say thank you.”

I‌ smiled, at both of them, but kept my eyes on the baby. “You’re welcome.”

Harry started putting the cream, and tissues away, as well as moving to throw the dirty nappy in the trash can, so as George got fussy again, I‌ picked him back up, and started singing Frère Jacques again, slowing down the melody as I rocked, hoping the baby would calm to the moves. Looking up, I noticed Harry was frozen in place, one hand in an open drawer, looking at me with the softest of eyes. There was something else in them, too. A kind of yearning that was almost blinding.

“What?”, I asked.

He smiled, to the floor. “Nothing… You’re good at that.”‌ He shrugged. “How much younger are your siblings?”

“Louis is three years younger, and Lourdes is eleven.”

“Wow.”

“I know.‌ My parents frown upon the word ‘unplanned’, so instead we say she was a ‘surprising blessing’.”

He laughed, not a giggle, or a chuckle, a proper laugh now. It was as surprising as when he laughed at my jokes the day before. Chris used to only chuckle at my jokes, usually with merely a nasalized sound to let me know he heard it. 

“I‌ always wanted to have a sister.”‌ He confessed.

“It's overrated. Mine mostly sends me videos of her ice skating practices, which all look the same, asking me for opinions which I do not care enough to have.”

He laughed again. “I sympathize.”

“How?”

“Well, she values your opinion. So do I. Why do you think I ask so many questions?”

“A lack of boundaries? Disregard to protocol?”

He laughed louder now, throwing his head back. The sound startled George, and made me blush with timid pride.

“Wow! Look at you. Throwing diplomacy out the window, are we?”

I sighed.‌ “You're right, I apologize… I'm just… not in the best mind space.” 

“No, that was a compliment.” He smiled, looking at me now. “I like it.”

There was the gentle yearning again… feeling almost inappropriate in front of a child.

“So what did Louis do to put you in this bad mind space?”

“I‌ never said it was bad, I‌ believe I said ‘not the best’. And what makes you think he has anything to do with it?”

He grinned. “Other than the fact you’ve been staring daggers his way since you’ve arrived? Let's see... You have this... Whiff of annoyance about you, which is worse than when I was bothering you yesterday, and you chose to be here with me and George and his dirty diaper instead of going back downstairs and enjoying tea with the others.”

“I like babies.”‌ I‌ shrugged.

“Yes, and I would think that might be it, but the poo I think damages the effect, doesn't it? I know it can't be me that kept you here, since you don't like me...”

“...I like you.” I said, giving it no further thought.

“You do?”

I shrugged, mindlessly.

“Wow… if you keep flattering me so much I might fall in love, Mary.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I‌ corrected, on auto-pilot. “Marie.”

He smiled. There was a silent pause as I walked George around the room, his eyes following each new space carefully.

“Truth.” Harry said.

I looked back at him across the room. “Pardon?”

“Yesterday, one of the last things I‌ said was that you should ask me something. And you asked, truth or dare? Well, I’m answering. I‌ pick truth.”

I took a few seconds to breathe deeply and appreciate three things; one, he seemed to remember our conversation yesterday in staggering detail. Two, his eyes did this… thing when he smiled, they squinted into tiny crescent moon shapes and it highlighted the blue of his irises. And three, in the rules of this game he seemed to be up to playing, I could ask him anything.

“What do you want from me?”

The silence that followed was even longer than mine. I had to look away from the way he stared me down this time, it was too… personal. Too transparently enigmatic. 

Eventually, I sat down in a rocking chair by the window, George on my thigh playing with the little koala. Harry walked over to us, slowly.

“By all means, take your time.” I teased.

“I’m just… trying to assess which answer you are ready for.”

My head snapped in his direction, almost in outrage. “There’s not supposed to be different answers. Only the truth.”

“Spoken like a lawyer.”

“It’s what you picked!” I rolled my eyes. “Well, what is it? What is the truth?”

He sighed, sitting in a matching footstool in front of me, uncomfortably close.

“There are levels to this truth, and for our blooming friendship not to perish, I think it’s important I don’t tell you something that would make you think less of me.”

“And I’m talking like a lawyer?” I asked, making him chuckle.

I weighed his words carefully, trying to understand the diplomatic euphemisms employed, but not allowing my mind to go too crazy with it. It was too far, too soon, but did he mean I would be offended by his honest answer? 

Eventually, though, he graced me with an answer.

“I want to know you.”

I looked back at him… the yearning was still there, but it had a glint of determination mixed in now.

I attempted to analyze his answer like a lawyer this time.

“To know who I am as a person, or to know what I look like naked?”

He barked out such a loud laugh now that George dropped the koala to the floor. The sound echoed around the room like a thunder, but it felt like it was echoing inside of me as well, warming me up from my stomach out. I couldn’t help but smile.

“No, no, Mary. You already asked your question, now it’s my turn.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “We are allowed follow up questions. It’s the rules.”

“Not the British rules. And we are in Britain.”

I leaned forward, determined. “Truth or dare has universal rules.”

“Enough lawyering, it’s my turn!”

He rubbed his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees; I suddenly felt very much like I was in court, and I wondered - as I had a handful of times since seeing him that afternoon - if he was finally going to ask the one thing I told him the previous day he did not know about us: how/when we met.

“Truth or dare?”, he begun.

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my legs, but still swinging them side-to-side to appease Gorge in my lap. 

I considered picking dare, and avoiding giving him the power to simply ask me how we met - which I’d have to answer; It’s the rules, and as a lawyer I had a duty to the law. But I also, in a way, or if I’m being honest, in all ways, wanted him to ask. So I smiled, looked him in the eyes, and said:

“Truth.”

“Why are you upset?”

The question came so swiftly and quickly I barely noticed it had happened.

“What?”

“Why are you upset? What did Louis do?”

I‌ looked around the room; I had frozen in place, so George got a little restless. Uncrossing my legs, I started bouncing him up and down on my knees.

“I’m not- I just…”‌ I shrugged. “It’s nothing. Siblings fight. Do you not fight with your brother?”

“Almost exclusively, but that’s not the question. It’s my turn, you picked truth, and I want to know.”

I sighed. “It’s… complicated.”

He nodded, leaned forward and picked George from me, sitting him in his own lap. 

“Go on.”

I‌ took a deep breath, looking around, though mostly in, and let it out slowly. 

“I‌ heard Louis telling you he wants to stay in Scotland to get a Master’s Degree.”

“And… you don’t want him to? Wait, you were already upset when you got here. That’s not it, is it?”

“Now we’re allowed to ask follow up questions?”

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me… I‌ was just, I‌ don’t know, trying to help.”

I got up, and started walking about. I traced the outline of a giraffe illustration in the wallpaper with my finger, slowly. 

“I don’t think he truly understands his… Place. In all of this.”

“This being?”

“Us. The Royal House of Castillon. The Crown. The Monarchy. The firm. The family business.”

“Ah. Of course. And you think he has to?”

I‌ turned around to look at him. “What I think is unrelated to the facts. And the fact is he is the heir. And he’s not acting like one.”

He shrugged. “He’s young.”

“He is almost twenty-two. And when he is here, taking care of his life, enjoying his freedom, which trust me, I understand, who do you think they call when they need someone to go to a ceremony or a service, or-”

“A royal tour?”

“Exactly,” I‌ dropped my gesturing hands to my sides, deflated. “Me. It’s not that I don’t like the work. I‌ do. But… I have a life, too. I have a job. And I know I’m not a fancy, cool, lawyer. They’re not writing Law And Order episodes about corporate law!‌‌ But my choices should matter too, should they not?”

“They should.” He nodded.

“And I‌ understand,‌ I do! I, too, went to school abroad! Louis had to stay home for boarding school, because he’s the heir, but even that I did abroad! And then later I‌ went to University in America, and I did get a postgraduate degree there, too, though mine was a shorter program. But I came home soon after! And you know why?”

“Why?”, he asked, diligently.

“For him!‌ Because I knew my parents needed help and I thought if I was around to help, they would allow him more time for his studies, you know? To enjoy his life before he has to dedicate it to the country, forever. And‌ I had job offers in America! I could have stayed there, where no one knew my name, but I didn’t. I‌ could have gone into human rights law, but I didn’t. So he’s not the only one who knows what it’s like having to make sacrifices for this family. But right now, I’m the only one doing that. Not him. And how is that fair?!”

Thankfully, he didn’t attempt to answer me. Instead, he allowed me time to slow my breathing and look back at him at my own pace.

“Have you… thought about maybe talking to your parents about this?”‌‌ He started, his voice gentle. “Tell them you want to dedicate yourself to your job.”

“Yes. My father promised as soon as Louis is back from University,‌ I’ll be allowed time to dedicate myself to my job.”

“That explains your anger at his plans for the future…”‌ He sighed. 

“Is that it? No advice? Words of wisdom? Mockery of my outburst to offer?”

“Was that an outburst?”‌ He asked, brows raised. “God, you’re polite.”

I‌ giggled, walking back over.

“I‌ mean,”‌ he started, “I‌ get it. There’s a lot we wish we could do, but we can’t because of our position… And knowing your ticket to a slightly more normal life is so close, yet so far must be frustrating.”

I brushed my fingers through George’s fine, blonde hair. “But?”

He sighed again. “But I… Well, at the risk of ruining whatever chance I‌ have here, I don’t think there’s much need to really worry.”

“How so?” I asked, purposely ignoring his remark about his chances.

“Well… Is it really that big of a deal if he stays there longer? I mean, I‌ know it’s not ideal but you should just… tell your family you’re busy when they ask. You’re allowed. You’re an adult with a proper job, which is more than any of us can really say.”‌ He added, humorously. “The monarchy will survive, I’m sure.”

“And what if by never holding him accountable to his responsibilities he simply never learns? What if we let him stay and he just… doesn’t come back until it’s too late to really learn what he needs to?”

“Well…” He lowered George to the rug, and handed him the koala. “You know what the best thing about being the spare is?” He patted the seat in the chair I had recently vacated, and I sat down in front of him again. “It’s not our problem to solve.”

I‌ considered this. He wasn’t… wrong, per se. But it sounded so utterly bleak. I recalled the way he described my job in relation to anyone else in a monarchy just then, my ‘proper’ job.

“You don’t think our place in this is important?”

“There’s that word again, place. You said your brother doesn’t understand his place, but… do any of us? What is our place, Mary?”

“Marie.”‌ I corrected, absentmindedly. “And, you know what I mean… our place in the country. In our royal families. In the… universe.”

“We’re the plan B of an Old World symbol of power that no longer has any power. I‌ can’t blame your brother for wanting a more useful use of his time, and I can’t blame you for it either, because you’re doing the same thing.”

“The Plan B?”

“You know, the… center pieces. The garnish. The embellishment. This whole tour, the reason why you and your father and brother are here, is about the immigration crisis, isn’t it?”‌ I nodded. “Your country is a little too loose on their policy and because you have a point of entry to Britain, our politicians are blaming you for our growing numbers of immigrants.”

“First of all, our polic-”

“But really, think about it,”‌ he went on, ignoring me, “what can we actually do about it? My grandmother, your father, my father, and maybe even Will and Kate, they have some power to strengthen diplomatic ties and the show of friendship may shame our politicians into figuring their shit out.‌ But us, you and me? We’re really just here to smile and look pretty, aren’t we?”

“I’m… learning about Catherine’s work with children to bring some of the experience back home.”

“Yes, admirable.” He nodded. “But, again, and not just now, but overall, in our lives? What’s our role? Isn’t it just to give them something to brag about? Look at Harry in his military uniform, two tours of duty, who’s to say that the royal family haven’t made sacrifices for the country? And look at Mary-”

“Marie.”

“…In the news, they’re saying she won a case!‌‌ She’s a lawyer! How impressive are the members of the royal family!”

“Have you always been a cynic?” He chuckled, shyly. “Do you really not think what we do is important?”

He smiled. “I‌ just try to be as honest with myself as I can. And that begins with knowing that my, how did you put it? My role in the cosmos is to give the people a show. As the spares, that’s all you and I can do. Chose a good partner that they’ll enjoy building up and then destroying, hopefully a pretty wedding or cute babies one day, and if we can help some people along the way, all the better. It’s… it’s a good endeavor. We can help a little, I think. But… important? I don’t know. I can’t be sure I’d use that word to describe anything we do.”

I nodded, slowly, taking it all in. It was a… gloomy thought, and not entirely untrue. With one caveat.

“That uniform you mentioned, the two tours… were they fake?”

“What?!‌ No.”

“So you did go to war?”

“Twice.”

I‌ nodded. “And the people you went with, they were remarkable, weren’t they?”

He smiled, looking at his nephew slightly lost in thought. “Yes.”

“They wear the same uniform you do. Aren’t they important?”

He looked at me. “It’s… it’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it? Do you think the people we help, the people that benefit from the organizations we help as best we can, whose lives are touched by our work one way or another, somehow, the people you helped in the army… do you think they’d agree with you that what we do isn’t important?”

He opened his mouth to speak, waited a couple of seconds, and closed it again. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was, that the silence was nicer than it should be; that even though in the past it had felt invasive or abrupt holding someone’s look for too long, this time it felt nice. It felt like being seen.

George squealed loudly across the room, throwing a toy cube, and our daze was broken.

“We should take him to his parents.”

“Yes.”‌ He said, and we stood up at the same time, being caught off guard by how close we were. 

I slipped away, swiftly, caressing a hand over my arm to smooth the chills there, and he went over to pick up his nephew, who whined a little as he was separated from his toys.

“It’s okay, buddy, we’re going to go find mummy and daddy.” Harry told him, in a sweet, gentle, baby-voice. “If it’s boring downstairs I’ll play with you, alright?”

He was so excruciatingly sweet with the baby that I could feel it right in my gut, this… whatever it was that roared as I watched them.

Wherever his place in the cosmos was, I couldn’t help but wish it was close to mine.

--- --- --- ---

Margueritte’s outfits!

[A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters, I hope you liked it too! Please let me know your thoughts? Feedback is always welcome! Shoot me a message, or like this chapter, either way, thank you SO MUCH for reading!]

[springday-aus]

BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

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Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests 

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au 

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable. 

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out. 

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing 

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words. 

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM 

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it? 

No, not really. 

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime. 

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung! 

Date: November 16th 

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there! 

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage. 

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with. 

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches. 

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King. 

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup. 

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?” 

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.” 

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.” 

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.” 

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment. 

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?” 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.” 

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?” 

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?” 

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” 

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“You know where I’ll be.” 

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!” 

“Bye.” 

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve. 

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list. 

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM 

Hyerin’s Reception 

Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.” 

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food. 

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?” 

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.” 

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.” 

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.” 

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables. 

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal. 

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung. 

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.” 

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table. 

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks. 

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile. 

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?” 

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.” 

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?” 

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.” 

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.” 

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh. 

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table. 

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.” 

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.” 

“Well, there is an open bar.” 

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans. 

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl. 

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites. 

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.” 

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin. 

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table. 

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.” 

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.” 

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon. 

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts. 

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.” 

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.” 

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.” 

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says. 

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down. 

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.” 

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.” 

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks. 

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly. 

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!” 

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!” 

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter. 

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?” 

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.” 

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her. 

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left. 

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor. 

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon. 

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s. 

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him. 

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!” 

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him. 

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!” 

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.” 

Well, nevermind. 

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music. 

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…” 

 Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm. 

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends. 

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot. 

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well. 

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).” 

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.” 

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.” 

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?” 

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?” 

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.” 

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.” 

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?” 

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

“You still making music?” 

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.” 

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.” 

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.” 

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.” 

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).” 

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?” 

“Yes.” 

“Damn, that’s harsh.” 

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.” 

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.” 

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?” 

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again. 

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets. 

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email. 

Hello Mr. Kim, 

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check. 

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 

Sincerely, 

Bang Sihyuk 

-- 

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team 

Lee Corporations 

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing. 

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine. 

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.” 

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.” 

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet. 

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon! 

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple 

—

Black tie dress. 

Reception to follow! 

See you there! 

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness. 

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages. 

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet? 

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once. 

Tata: oh shit 

Tata: i forgot 

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ? 

Namjoon: you read my mind 

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates 

Tata: :) 

Namjoon: …. okay 

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird 

Namjoon: but ily too 

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling). 

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry. 

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020 

Saturday, 7PM 

Junmyeon’s Reception 

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant 

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.” 

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” 

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher. 

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask. 

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.” 

You pout. 

Namjoon tries not to stare. 

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?” 

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?” 

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.” 

“You know I try,” he says with a grin. 

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table. 

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes). 

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two. 

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is. 

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.” 

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.” 

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.” 

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.” 

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.” 

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?” 

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?” 

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more. 

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over. 

“Here comes the lucky couple!” 

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds. 

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.” 

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles. 

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face. 

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?” 

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.” 

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.” 

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.” 

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.” 

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table. 

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam. 

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.” 

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him. 

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says. 

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop. 

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun. 

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says. 

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—” 

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours. 

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.” 

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think. 

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?” 

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.” 

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.” 

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.” 

You laugh. 

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest). 

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff. 

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends). 

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school). 

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)... 

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?” 

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.” 

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?” 

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.” 

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table. 

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?” 

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)  

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.” 

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie. 

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened. 

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.” 

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout. 

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late. 

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers. 

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety. 

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung. 

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops. 

The audacity. 

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says. 

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.” 

“It really is,” Namjoon responds. 

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement. 

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls. 

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?” 

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says. 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.” 

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.” 

“What?” Jaebum asks. 

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?” 

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?” 

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile. 

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored. 

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness. 

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.” 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.” 

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.” 

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?” 

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.” 

“Always!” 

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?” 

“You got a point there.” 

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo). 

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.” 

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?” 

“Exactly.” 

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls. 

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. 

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s… that’s rough, bro.” 

“Hopefully, no one notices?” 

“Hopefully.” 

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more. 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” 

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.” 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.” 

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie. 

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).” 

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?” 

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.” 

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout. 

“YES!” 

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves. 

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty. 

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky. 

“Hello boys.” 

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.” 

They laugh. 

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night. 

January 27th, 2020 

Monday, 8AM 

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter. 

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista. 

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.” 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.” 

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?” 

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.” 

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.” 

“You’re at work though.” 

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.” 

“Isn’t that stealing?” 

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?” 

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs. 

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him. 

“I thought that was you,” you say. 

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.” 

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.” 

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?” 

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.” 

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.” 

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.” 

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers. 

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response. 

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes. 

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.” 

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.” 

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!” 

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for. 

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.” 

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.” 

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts. 

“Don’t license-shame me.” 

“Not a thing, Joonie.” 

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him. 

“Namjoon!” 

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.” 

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?” 

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).” 

“From college (Y/N)?” 

“College (Y/N).” 

“Ahhhh.” He smirks. 

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?” 

“Can we not?” 

“Not what?” 

“Elaborate.” 

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?” 

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.” 

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters. 

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.” 

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.” 

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.” 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.” 

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.” 

“See ya.” 

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM 

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall 

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.” 

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.” 

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.” 

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides. 

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut). 

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open. 

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out). 

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.” 

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.” 

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.” 

“Very true.” 

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.” 

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.” 

“I’m busy at work, you know this.” 

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.” 

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?” 

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat. 

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.” Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.” 

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth. 

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front. 

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?” 

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan. 

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple. 

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?” 

“I think you know what.” 

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.” 

“Staring at you like what?” 

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner. 

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?” 

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?” 

“Can you please not mention that part?” 

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.” 

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.” 

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—” 

“Which is where I got my info—” 

He gives him a look, which shuts him up. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.” 

“(Y/N) is also here—” 

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?” 

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.” 

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.” 

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.” 

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.” 

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face. 

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.” 

“Now?” 

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never. 

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table. 

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder. 

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!” 

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked. 

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.” 

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.” 

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd. 

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?” 

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?” 

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?” 

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.” 

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?” 

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.” 

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights. 

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).” 

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.” 

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face. 

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.” 

“Give me your phone.” 

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.” 

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.” 

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away. 

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?” 

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did. 

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face. 

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.” 

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend. 

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?” 

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?” 

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has. 

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.” 

“Seokjin, why are you like this?” 

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!” 

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM 

Emerby Eateries 

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date? 

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were. 

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.” 

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.” 

“More like ten minutes late.” 

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.” 

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger. 

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.” 

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.” 

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.” 

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?” 

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?” 

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.” 

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.” 

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.” 

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.” 

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories. 

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write). 

“Do you know what you would like?” 

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first. 

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?” 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.” 

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.” 

“Anything to drink?” 

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon. 

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.” 

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before. 

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him. 

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip. 

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?” 

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.” 

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour. 

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.” 

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?” 

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.” 

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.” 

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.” 

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.” 

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.” 

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?” 

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.” 

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.” 

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.” 

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?” 

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.” 

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him. 

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?” 

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans. 

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.” 

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?” 

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.” 

“So you talked about me?” 

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass. 

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.” 

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.” 

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.” 

You both laugh again. 

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.” 

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.” 

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight. 

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding! 

We’d love for all of you to join! 

See you then! 

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone. 

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception. 

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else. 

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email). 

Although....there is another option. 

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most. 

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him? 

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that… 

“No!” 

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring. 

“Ahhh!!!” 

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong. 

But right now, everything is wrong. 

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response. 

“Hello?” 

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—” 

“... Hello?” 

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?” 

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.” 

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—” 

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.” 

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.” 

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?” 

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!” 

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well. 

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.” 

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.” 

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?” 

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

“Yeah, him.” 

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?” 

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…” 

“Oh, good for him.” 

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?” 

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, when is it?” 

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—” 

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.” 

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth. 

“... It depends.” 

“On what?” 

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.” 

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.” 

“A trade deal?” 

“I get a ride and you get free food?” 

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?” 

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.” 

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).” 

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.” 

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.” 

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.” 

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Bye.” 

“Bye!” 

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.” 

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen. 

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to. 

April 3rd, 2020 

Friday, 7:30PM 

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue 

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.” 

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat. 

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.” 

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities. 

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know. 

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well. 

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.” 

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.” 

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?” 

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly. 

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.” 

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.” 

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.” 

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple. 

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?” 

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!” 

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.” 

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!” 

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play. 

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi. 

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day. 

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer. 

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception). 

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses. 

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.” 

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system.  “I can’t drive at all.” 

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?” 

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.” 

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch. 

“AYO!” 

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length. 

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!” 

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them. 

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Will you be back?” 

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.” 

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters. 

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!” 

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!” 

“Mine!” Peniel calls. 

But Matthew gets there first. 

“Interception, bitch!” 

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop. 

“Not the tiddies!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them. 

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks. 

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s  seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.” 

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers. 

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character. 

“I didn’t get it,” you whine. 

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it. 

“Joonie,” you say. 

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.” 

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.” 

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.” 

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.” 

“Neither can I.” 

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.” 

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.” 

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.” 

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.” 

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment. 

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way). 

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?” 

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?” 

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.” 

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?” 

“Would you like any toppings?” 

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?” 

“If you want some, then get some.” 

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?” 

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more. 

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his. 

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says. 

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—” 

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.” 

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” 

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve. 

“What’s up?” 

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.” 

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child. 

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you. 

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence. 

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.” 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.” 

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him. 

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest. 

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by). 

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.” 

He chuckles. “The post office?” 

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—” 

“Ew, please don’t say that.” 

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?” 

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?” 

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.” 

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.” 

“You know which remix I hated the most?” 

“Which one?” 

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.” 

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.” 

“Did they now?” 

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.” 

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance. 

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off. 

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks. 

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.” 

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well. 

“What?” he asks with apprehension. 

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes. 

“Remember that favor you owe me?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?” 

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date? 

He does owe you a favor too… 

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor. 

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky. 

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.” 

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.” 

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.” 

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it. 

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020 

Saturday, 9PM 

Tiffany’s Reception 

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.” 

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests. 

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him. 

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.” 

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?” 

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.” 

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.” 

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.” 

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.” 

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?” 

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.” 

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?” 

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?” 

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?” 

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.” 

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention. 

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs. 

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!” 

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.” 

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!” 

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart. 

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off. 

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful. 

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.” 

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says. 

Namjoon and Evan laugh. 

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side. 

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says. 

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.” 

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!” 

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert. 

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him). 

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage. 

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!” 

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious. 

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.” 

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed. 

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him. 

“Would you like to join me for a dance?” 

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes. 

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?” 

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.” 

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch. 

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.” 

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing. 

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose. 

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him. 

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them? 

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.” 

“You have 148 IQ.” 

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.” 

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.” 

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.” 

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.” 

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.” 

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.” 

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?” 

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?” 

“Forget what?” 

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.” 

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.” 

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.” 

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms. 

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?” 

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with. 

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that. 

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?” 

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.” 

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug. 

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?” 

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea. 

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.” 

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity. 

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.” 

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.” 

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?” 

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.” 

“... Elaborate.” 

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.” 

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it. 

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi. 

“Namjoon?” 

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?” 

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.” 

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.” 

“Yeah, but you never know.” 

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.” 

“Wait, what was the question?”

  He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?” 

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020 

Wednesday, 9AM 

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other. 

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?” 

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.” 

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.” 

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.” 

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.” 

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word. 

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided. 

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats. 

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks. 

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention. 

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?” 

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.” 

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction. 

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?” 

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.” 

“Well, first overseas trip.” 

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?” 

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.” 

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?” 

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.” 

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom. 

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.” 

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of. 

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone. 

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask. 

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass. 

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane. 

As usual, you were right. 

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too. 

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again. 

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these. 

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes. 

Yes, sleep is the best solution. 

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding. 

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap. 

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him. 

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.” 

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers. 

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).” 

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.” 

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.” 

“Give me ten minutes then.” 

“No, wake up.” 

“No.” 

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.” 

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?” 

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?” 

“To torture me?” 

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.” 

He laughs in response. 

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air. 

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.” 

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part. 

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.” 

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half! 

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 16

Materlist

After Tina dropped me off at my apartment, I passed out on my couch, between the two of us we had finished off a whole bottle of champagne. When I woke up it was maybe eight a.m, my head hurt, that dry dull ache that comes from alcohol. I rubbed a hand over my face and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water and a couple ibuprofen. I sat down on the edge of the counter, opening my phone to see if I'd gotten any new notifications while I was out. A couple spam emails and a picture of Sumo sleeping from Connor but nothing major. When I was looking at the text I remembered the promise I made to Gavin about bringing him lunch.

"Shit." I muttered under my breath. I opened my fridge and assessed the ingredients I had biting my fingernails while thinking. I didn't want anything too elaborate, something simple but delicious, nothing too out there since I didn't know what Gavin liked. I figured he wasn't much of a health nut, maybe banking some good will with Nines for this little lunch date would be a good idea and making something mildly healthy for the grumpy detective.

I settled on a simple orzo salad, with sautéed cherry tomatoes, onion, garlic, and grilled zucchini, toasted almonds, a splash of balsamic vinegar to finish and garnished with chopped parsley and feta cheese. I made simple pita sandwiches on the side, turkey, tomato, onions, lettuce and tzatziki sauce.

I packed it all up in an old lunch box and suddenly felt nervous. Was this too much for an office lunch? What if he didn’t like what I brought? Should I bring a dessert? What about drinks? What would we talk about? Oh god, I still needed to tell him about Elijah trying to kiss me.

I shook my head, like it would help move those thoughts out of my brain and moved to my room where I quickly got dressed, deciding to go with acid washed mom jeans that I cuffed and a flowery tank top. I played with the hem of my shirt, thinking about what I was about to do. Eating lunch with a man my dad dislikes where they both work seemed like a horrible idea. I stood frozen for a few minutes, until my phone went off.

u still coming

As long as that’s still okay with you.

yea

I’ll be there in 10ish minutes!

I walked into the DPD and glanced over to where my dad’s desk was. He and Connor must have been out on a case. I felt guilty, but I was kind of glad they weren’t here. I still wasn’t sure how my dad felt about me seeing Gavin. I walked over to Gavin’s desk where he and Nines were looking at his computer.

“Hey guys, how are Detroit’s third and fourth best detectives doing?” I lifted myself up and sat on the edge of Gavin’s desk.

“You better be talking to someone else, pipsqueak.” Gavin glanced at me with a smirk.

“Oh, hush number four. Nines, how are you today?” Gavin faked a gasp and put a hand on his chest, as if he was deeply hurt.  

“We are getting close to locating a suspect who has been selling android parts on the black market. I apologize, but since you are technically a civilian, I cannot disclose any more information.” I laughed.

“Nines, I asked how you are, not how’s your case!” I said with a laugh. He gave me a short nod.

“Oh, I am fine. Annoyed that Detective Reed cannot seem to focus for more than a few minutes.”

“Whatever, Tin Can.” Gavin got up and put his arm around my shoulder. “We’re going to go eat, don’t bother us.” He steered me towards the break room.

“I made turkey sandwiches and an orzo salad, I hope that’s okay.” I started getting the food out.

“Wait, you made lunch?” He grabbed my hand and I was stunned.

“Uhh…yeah. Is that okay?” He looked uncomfortable. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I should’ve picked something up. I didn’t even ask if you liked any of this and- “

“No, fuck no, you’re fine.” I nodded and got the rest of the food out and sat across from him. Had I done something wrong already? He was just staring at the food.

“I can go pick something up if you want. It’s really not a big deal. I really should’ve asked be- “

“Louise, you’re fine. I’m just surprised. No one’s ever made me food for a date before.”

“Oh, so this is a date now?” I teased.

“Fuck yeah it’s a date.” He grabbed one of the sandwiches and took a huge bite. “This is really good.” He said through a mouthful of food. I laughed.

“Can you be any more gross?” I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I took a bite of the orzo.

“Yes.” He said while taking another bite and chewing with his mouth wide open.

“Gavin!” We both started laughing. I took a bite of the sandwich. “How’s your case going?” He shrugged.

“Like Nines said, we’re getting closer, but it’s still going to be a bit before we have enough evidence to bring anyone in.” I nodded.

“Do you think it’s androids or humans running the market?” I asked, he paused before answering.

“Nines thinks it’s a mix, I think it’s androids.” He took another bite. “What, you want to talk about android black-market deals in your class?”

“Oh god, no. I already have too much material to cover in 16 weeks.” I laughed. “Hey, were you being serious when you said you’d talk to my class?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I may take you up on that.” I paused and took another bite. Feeling guilty for not telling him the full truth about what happened at Elijah’s. “I have to tell you something about Saturday.”

“Okay.” He sounded nervous.

“So, when I was at Elijah’s house, he asked me if he could kiss me and I said no.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah…are you okay?”

“Well, I thought you were gonna say coming to my place was a mistake. But knowing you turned down my half brother for me feels pretty good.” I laughed.

“Good, I wanted to tell you because I didn’t want to hide it and have it become a problem later in our relationship.” He smiled.

“Later in our relationship?” He asked, I felt my face grow hot. Did I misread the situation?

“I mean, I’d like to keep seeing you, but if you don’t want to go out with me that’s totally okay. I know that we- “

“I want to keep seeing you too, pipsqueak. Chill out. It’s fun to make you all flustered.” I smiled. Gavin finished his sandwich and I pushed my other half towards him. “You don’t want it?” I shook my head and he started eating the other half happily.

“Next time I’ll make you two sandwiches.” I laughed.

“Oh? Next time? You’re going to cook for me again?” He smirked and I rolled my eyes.

“Detective Reed. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Captain Fowler wants to talk to both of us immediately.” Nines looked at Gavin and Gavin groaned.

“I’ll text you later, pipsqueak.” He got up, but didn’t walk to Nines waiting by the door, instead he approached me and leaned in close, I felt my heart leap into my throat and my breath catch as he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “Thanks for lunch.” He winked. I felt all my blood reach my cheeks, my eyes had gone wide. I blinked and shook my head.

“Ah yeah, no problem.” I responded, not even having the mental capacity to return his quip. I scrambled to pack up the leftovers, and clean up our mess . the rest away. They both walked towards the captain’s office and I walked out of the break room and saw Connor sitting at his desk.

“Hey, Connor.” I walked over to him and sat on his desk. He turned to look at me.

“Louise, what are you doing here?” Connor asked.

“Gavin couldn’t leave for lunch, so I brought him food.” I patted the empty lunch box. “How’s your day going?”

“Lieutenant Anderson had to run Sumo to his yearly veterinarian appointment. I will be leaving shortly after I finish these case reports.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” He paused.

“An hour.”

“Would you like me to wait for you to finish and then we could go back to the house together?” He nodded. “I’m going to sit at his desk and chill on my phone. Let me know when you’re ready.” I got off Connor’s desk and sat in my dad’s chair. Leaning back, I took in the mess that was his desk. There were various stickers, dirty coffee mugs and crumbled papers. It was pretty gross, so I scrolled through my phone so I wouldn’t have to look at it.

Not even two minutes later, I heard yelling and a door slam. I looked towards the source of the noise and saw Gavin his face dark, storming through the office, pushing the doors open, and out of the precinct.

Nines didn't follow him, he must still be in the office. None of the other officers followed him either, as the double doors swung back closed with an echoing thud. I stood abruptly, my dad's rolly chair spinning back behind me. "I'm going to see what's wrong." I told Connor as I passed his desk, not stopping for him to respond.

My exit wasn't nearly as dramatic, but the precinct doors still closed louder than I would've liked.

It didn’t take me long to spot Gavin. He was pacing back and forth by the side of the building smoking a cigarette. I walked towards him slowly. I had never seen anyone this angry before.

“Gavin?” I said softly, approaching him as if he was a wild animal. I had no idea how he would react, some people didn’t like others touching them when they were angry. He didn’t look at me, he just kept pacing, he flicked the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground. “Gavin?” I tried again walking a bit closer. He punched the brick wall.

“FUCK!” He shouted. I closed the distances between us and grabbed his hand. His knuckles were already bleeding, and he was fuming. He tried to pull his hand back, but I kept my grip firm. “He thinks he knows FUCKING EVERYTHING! He hasn’t been in the field for YEARS! This is BULLSHIT!” I put my other hand on his shoulder, he was shaking. I sat down on the concrete, dragging him down next to me. He was breathing heavily.

“Gavin, look at me.” He didn’t move. I let go of his hand and put both my hands on his cheeks and gently moved his head, so he was looking at me. “Copy my breathing.” I started taking deep breaths in and out. His eyes kept darting back and forth. “In and out, Gav.” I tried a little more forcefully, which got him to pay attention. After a few minutes of breathing deeply his breathing became more even and less erratic. “What happened?” I asked softly. He shook his head and looked down. I gently moved his face back up. “Gav, talk to me.”

“You’ll get upset.” If I hadn’t been staring at him, I would’ve missed him saying anything at all.

“I won’t. I promise. Please, trust me.”

“No.”

“Gav, we talked about this. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” I kept my hands on his cheeks. He took a shaky breath.

“Fowler is kicking me off the black-market case because I’ve been too ‘reckless’ lately apparently. The only way he would've known that is if Nines told him. He suspended me for three days and Chris is taking over the case.” His voice was hoarse.

“Oh, Gav. I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my thumb across his cheek.

“I’m trying to become Lieutenant, and this is just another reason for Fowler to not give it to me. God this just another fucking reason why you shouldn’t be with me. I’m a fucking mess. I can’t do anything right.” I cut him off by kissing him softly. It took him a moment to react, but once he snapped out of his confusion, he kissed me back roughly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he grabbed my waist, pulling me into his lap. I yelped into his mouth and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. I pulled him tighter against me, one hand roaming to fist in his scruffy hair, the other still wrapped around his neck. He channeled all that fury into this kiss, with bruising force he belligerently pushed his tongue against mine and all over my mouth. He tasted like tobacco, sweet and earthy and heady, and it made me feel lightheaded. Our noses bumped and I broke the kiss and smiled at him, laughing under my breath. “That was a good distraction.” He whispered. I smiled and kissed him again, a soft chaste press of our lips that lingered for a moment, before I pulled apart again.  

“Come hang out with me in my office?” I asked, looking up at him through my lashes “I have to submit a rough draft of my preliminary plan for my research by tomorrow at midnight, but there's enough time for a break or two.” I winked as I clambered out of his lap, holding a hand out to help him up. He smirked and nodded

“Sounds like a plan pipsqueak.”

I grabbed my phone and quickly sent Connor a text.

I’m going to get Gavin away from the precinct and calm him down. I’ll see you later tonight?

That should work.

“You only want me to come so I’ll drive you.” He joked and I grabbed his injured hand and interlocked our fingers.

“Yup, only reason.” I laughed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Witness : 26

Not Right

new moodboard created by @iheartsebastianstan​ Thanks to them and to anyone who wants to create one of their own or some art, I would be eternally grateful. You all are so amazing!

Character(s): dark!Bucky, dark!Steve, too

Masterlist

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

In this chapter, sex and internal conflict.

Summary: The reader feels her world closing in but it might be too late to save herself.

Notes: Okay, thanks to everyone and their patience with this series. Honestly the response has been overwhelming! I love you all so much and it's really meant a lot considering my recent mental episodes. I hate that I have so many issues and they always pop up at the worst times but this series makes it easier to deal with. I know y'all have come for the story and don't need a whole dump here but I think it's a little obvious that I've poured a lot of myself and my internal struggles into this one and so it just means so much more that it has had such a big response. Again, thank you for listening to me ramble and supporting this series! <3 Now, onto actual business here! This chapter has some juicy little tidbits (and I don't mean sex) just something y'all have been waiting for... I hope you all enjoy :) Tomorrow will be the second chapter of Happy Together so brace for some dark!Steve and Saturday will be another one shot requested for the raffle! (Again dark!Steve) so we have quite the line up. Anyways, as usual, comments mean the world to me. It's nice to have feedback and I just love hearing all your reactions and thoughts. :D You guys are so wonderful.

Please, reblog and or reply with your thoughts!! I’ll see you in the next one. :)

As promised, Bucky and Steve left town at noon. You were relieved to see them go but the looming threat of their presence had distracted you from the dark thoughts which now began to rise in the back of your mind. Vague memories of words exchanged; about you, about others. Gill... you knew nothing about her, only that she used to sit at the very desk you were now behind. And, if you were to guess at it, she had also been involved with the two men who had you caught in their claws, though you couldn’t say how.

 You tapped your fingers on the desk as you scrolled through Pepper’s inbox, weeding out the junk, responding to those which could be generically shrugged off. It was second nature now. Almost fun. You imagined what it would be like to be her. On the arm of one of the most powerful men in the world, protected from others who might wish you harm. You were in almost the complete opposite station in life. You were trapped under the thumb of one who saw you as nothing more than a prop and you had little means of helping yourself.

     “I promise, she won’t be another Gill.” “She’s not another one of your toys…”  

 What had happened to your predecessor? The black text blurred past your vision as you thought, scrolling the wheel as you thought back to your nights spent with both super soldiers. As much as Bucky set your nerves on fire, Steve was utterly terrifying. He was able to flip a switch, turning from the smiling office colleague to sinister masochist. You could feel his hands on your neck then. Had Gill felt the same fingers against her flesh, the same dread mixed with airiness? Is that why she had quit?

 You sat back, looking around the office. There was no one there but you were ever paranoid. You leaned on the chair, glancing just down the hallway as an idea tugged at your mind. You took a deep breath and moved the mouse, hovering over the “sent files” link before clicking. Pepper’s emails, including those written by yourself, appeared before you. You began to scroll down, watching the date revert until well before your first day. And then you found it. An email with a familiar name upon it; ‘Daily Roster’ fwd. Gill Nazar. You stared at the name, another glance around the office.

 You clicked and let the air out of your lungs. Nothing beyond the usual message; a list of names, times, special instructions. It was the same thing you received every morning. You clicked out and opened up the browser, typed in the former secretary’s name and hit enter with a rush of a anxiety. As the little circle reeled beside the cursor, so did your head. The results popped up and your heart dropped. You clicked on the first link; a headline already forgotten.

 ‘MISSING WOMAN: FORMER SECRETARY ON THE RUN?’ It was the most recent story on Gill, declaring that previous reports of her disappearance had been exaggerated and she had in fact merely run away from her boring office life. You explored those which preceded that, every day back in time building the heat along your spine. There were no clues which could have led to her discovery and the last article gave only an account of her wild college days, not far behind her, and a questionable quote from a “friend” to support its thesis. Yet the case had been closed and no one was looking for Gill Nazar any longer.

 It just didn’t add up and you suspected your inevitable disappearance would make even less sense. The thought chilled you to the core and a sudden wave of terror came over you. If you didn’t get out soon, you would be the woman pasted across the articles, but only for a week before you were buried beneath the next week’s headlines. Another would sit in this chair and contend with the super soldiers.

 You were shaking. Your eyes were glued to the screen and you couldn’t stop the panic as it filled your veins like ice. You needed to act soon or be lost forever.

A couple days later, after the revelation that Gill hadn't necessarily quit for a better job or due to a sudden windfall, you were still trying to figure out how to process the information. You couldn't say for sure that she was dead but it wasn't an unlikely conclusion either. The way Steve and Bucky spoke about her as good as confirmed your suspicions. And if her fate was so shrouded in mystery and fatalism, what then would yours be?

 This wasn't just something you could forget but you could try to suppress it, at least distract yourself from it. It all seemed pointless now that your fate was as good as confirmed. Even as you played along you weren't promised any other end but that which you had tried to barter yourself out of.

 Currently you were in the middle of a convenience story, your arms filled with a multi-pack of gummy worms, gummy bears, and sour keys. The endorphins afforded by such an indulgence might be enough to ward off the shadow which loomed over you. A couple chocolate bars were added to your load and you dragged your feet up along the last aisle. Your eyes caught shiny plastic packages, hung on security hooks, and you skidded to a halt. You tapped your toe and looked around.

 You stared at the flip phones. ‘Burners’ they were commonly referred to as by dealers and similar criminals. You chewed your cheek, the wheels slowly beginning to wind on your head. “Excuse me,” You called over to the cashier, bent over the daily crossword in the newspaper. He almost reminded you of yourself and your doldrum work. “Can I get two of these phones please?”

 He pushed himself away from the counter and came out from behind the lottery tickets and gum to shove a round key on the hook. He unlooped two and brought them up to the counter where you met him on the other side. You set the rest of your wares before him and he punched in the items dully. He seemed rather unfazed by your purchase but you gathered a place like this would have shadier types than yourself frequenting the joint.  You accepted a plastic bag and and took your haul out onto the street. Finding your car, you slid inside and started the engine, a plan piecing itself together in your head. Well, nothing substantial but a line of communication. A way to protect yourself and your mom when an escape presented itself.

 Back at your apartment, you took out the twin phones and charged them. You activated them with a set of fake names and typed in a message from one to the other. You left it unread so that the notification still showed.

     Mom, text back when you get this. Y/N.  

 You would buy a parcel tomorrow and send it without a return address. That way Bucky couldn't track it. You felt an odd sense of accomplishment, a fragment of your independence secreted away. Even if you were caught out, you had tried.

 You dumped the packaging down the building's chute and hid the phones beneath your kitchen sink, just behind the trash can. Just in case. You never knew when Bucky would return and he always seemed to drop in at the most inconvenient times.  Your suspicion proved prudent as you slept heavily that night. No longer did the sense of doom hang over you so darkly and you dozed quite comfortably in your own bed. The morning after held a simple task and a rare sliver of hope.

 But you were roused to half-slumber by a distant sound. There was a presence in your room thought your mind refused to retreat from its respite, instead you listened as if through a tunnel. A series of rustling, metal clinking, and muted footsteps. The mattress dipped beside you and a warmth snaked around your waist. At last your eyes snapped open and you grabbed the hand tucking itself under your side.

 “It's just me,” Bucky's whisper was not as comforting as he would have hoped. “Go back to sleep.”

 You tensed against him, not expecting such...gentleness? He wasn't forcing your legs apart or holding you down. In fact, he was giving you a new option. You would take sleep if it saved you from his usual tendencies.  The rest of your night was spent in a shallow sleep, the presence beside you kept you from sinking back too far. In the back of your head you wondered why he was there. After days away on a mission he had decided to show up at your place in the middle of the night and slink into your bed like some long-awaited lover.

 Still you resisted consciousness if only to avoid the answers to those questions. You were woken however against your will. Your mind still shrouded in drowsiness you grumbled as a hand pushed its way between your legs, sliding up your thighs, careful circles drawn along your clit. It was almost relaxing, the warm nestled in your pelvis as the fingers carried on. It was only as the grunt rasped in your ear and you felt the prodding along your back that reality slapped you.

 Bucky was spooning you, his hand squeezed between your legs as he teased your clit, your shorts gone. Your own hand shot down to try to stop him but a soft ‘uh uh’ kept your from doing so. Slowly, he shifted away from you, his fingers still tugging at your core, and rolled you flat onto your back. He pushed your legs apart and you let them splay open, wondering if this was actually some twisted nightmare. A most confusing one indeed.

 His beard tickled across your shoulder and along your neck, his lips laying sweet pecks along your skin. Your heart was hammering in your chest. What was he doing? This had to be some trick. To be so gentle with you he must have been planning something awful. His nose brushed across your cheek, his eyelids hooded over his blue eyes as they closed and he leaned closer. His lips were on yours before you could turn away and your eyes were wide open. He was kissing you. He had never done that before.

 His fingers continued to pluck at you and you moaned despite yourself. The heat was pooling just so and you couldn't resist the flames licking along your thighs. You shuddered against him and he removed his lips at last so that you could turn your head and pant at the sunlit bedroom. He pressed his head once more into the crook of your neck, bringing you to a most disconcerting climax.

 As the after waves took you, Bucky climbed on top of you, replacing his fingers with his cock, running his tip along your folds before slowly entering. You gasped. You wanted him to stop because it felt so unfamiliar, so wrong, and yet you wanted him to keep going. The intimacy of his actions was both long-missed and entirely unsettling. You craved it, just not from him. Not in this circumstance. His breath was hot against your neck as he began to move within you, one hand on your hip, the other tangled in your hair, cradling your head.

 You tried to resist the tingling his touch was sending through you but your mind was too tired and your body weak. You gripped his bicep as he moved against you, your nails digging into his flesh as you fought him and yourself. There wasn’t any real strength put into it as you felt like jelly beneath him, every thrust sending a star across your vision. Your eyes rolled back and you let the haze take you, your name ringing in your ears as you met with yet another orgasm.

 Bucky grunted your name low in your ear, bringing you back to the moment. You felt the warmth spill within you, his cum filling you and seeping around his cock. He collapsed atop you, not moving as he breathed heavily, his head just beside yours on the pillow. The glow of your lust began to fade, the oddity of reality like a bucket of cold water poured over you. You could handle him treating you like a toy, tossing you around, manhandling you, calling you a good girl, but you couldn’t do this. Him touching you so softly as if he actually felt anything but pure spite for you, saying your name…

 “Get off of me,” You whispered, “Please, please.” You began to panic, smacking your hands against his shoulders as you begged him. You couldn't breathe. “Please. Get off!”

 He pulled out of you, sitting back with visible shock on his face. You quickly rolled over the edge of the bed, barely getting your feet under you before you met the floor. You tripped over yourself as you scurried out to the washroom, slamming the door and locking it. You felt his cum dripping down your leg and you cringed. You stepped into the tub, turning on the shower head and detaching it as you frantically tried to wash him away. It was all wrong. He hated you and you hated him. That was how it worked.

 You cranked the faucet off and dropped the hose, falling back against the tub as your body shook. Your top was askew and splashed with water, your bottom half chilly from the cooling drops across your skin. You closed your eyes and swore aloud. Your plan had to been to bide your time but how much longer would you have?

tags: @they-call-me-le @holylulusworld  @petit-funsize @alexakeyloveloki @ladyofmyst @kellyn1604 @thelostallycat @grayxswan @collette04 @butteryoptimisticpeanut @buckycaptspideypool @blackpantherimagines @lilithhellfire @captainfreecandyvan @spaghettyrogers @phoenix21love @sathlens @iheartsebastianstan @lanabanana-86

[steveramsdale]

Big dipper Blog - 10.10

This blog is, essentially, the same as last week’s. There are some alternative factual details, but they are superficial. Anyway, you could just reread (or remember) last week’s offering and save yourself a bit of time. If you do decide to read on, we could make it more fun. You could try to decide for yourself the highest high and the lowest low. Remember, it’s just for fun. There’s no prize, so don’t write, text or email.

I think, as people, we are supposed to grow, to learn, to develop. That’s the most startling revelation you’ll read today. Adversity can be, I’m told, an opportunity for such personal growth. It may, in fact, be true, that I have been learning about myself. I wonder if my ‘issue’ is that if one thing is wrong, it affects everything else. See what you think.

On Saturday, my chief goal was to get the car de-registered and get the papers I need for me to be able to export it. The police centre I needed to go to was advertised as opening at 9:30 so I had time to get up and get sorted. I had a wonderful colleague on notice to be available for telephone translation if necessary.

I took a 6am trip to the shop through the park. Many people were already out running, I’d say 100 or more and it’s not a big park. Much of Tashkent has given up on lockdown.

Soon it was time to head off for the simple process of taking my car off its registration here! Google maps took me behind the centre where there was no gate. It was not difficult to find a way round to the front. That was the last time a problem was easily solved on Saturday. When we got the van and went to register it for the first time, the father and son who sold it to us, took me and helped. Even so, when we got there, they accepted the help of a man who was at the centre to do just that - help, for a fee, people through the process. He charged me about £20 but probably saved us 3 or 4 hours by knowing what to do and going to the front of queues. When I returned to the scene of this lengthy but problem-free process, there were, again, these free-lance ‘sorters’ and I decided it would be worth accepting help. The price was about the same. However, the first problem emerged in minutes. The address. I knew, back in September, that this would be a problem one day, would bite me on the bum. Sorry, I forgot to say that this blog would contain strong language and adult themes. I have a credit card-sized, well, card which is my ownership document (log book). It has all of the details about me and my van. So, of course, the address is our old address. Now, in my passport, I have my new address. I did not sort this out. The people at the centre said they could not de-register me until I changed the address (of course I questioned this), and that I could not change he address there but had to go to the centre in Yunusabad. I paid about £2 for something and my assistant asked for (and received) about £5 for his help. I set off for the other centre.

Long-time readers may (won’t) remember that at the original registration, we also went to two centres - the wrong one first. The centre I had to go to now was that ‘wrong’ one. I love symmetry, and here it was. When I got there, again came the offers of help. There were more guys here and they wanted £60. I declined, at this rate. I first drove into the inspection hall. Here they check the car against the ‘tec-passport’ as the credit-card is called. They match up the chassis number, etc. I had the papers from the first centre, so that went through without a hitch. Thereafter, the day was just a big hitch or series of small hitches that’s looked like one big hitch. We return to the Uzbek system, seen at the Kazakh border (remember) of needing to go from window to window, room to room. However, I was soon (a relative term) told that I would not be able to deregister the van until I had proof that I was leaving the country too. This would be in the form of a stamp in my passport given by my landlord! This cuts a longer story short and, by now, includes Miss Viktoriya as my telephone translator. I was certain that this could not be right (by the way, the miss-matched address was no longer an issue. It would mean, for example, that an Uzbek could not export a car to a relative in Russia! I tried explaining this, we went back to the main hall to talk to the boss a couple of times, but no one was changing this story. I phoned Pim, the export guy who has helped with every stage of this van conversion, and he put me on to a colleague. We talked and he also spoke to the officials there but got the same answer. Pim then told me that his people would look in to it more on Monday (yes, this story goes on) and help to sort it. The woman I had been dealing with insisted that I go back to the other centre and get my £2 back - which was an incorrect charge. She even phoned them to arrange it for me. I didn’t go back. Not for £2.

As an aside, there has to be a better way for the authorities to organise this free-for-all. The system is not a system. Queuing is almost non-existent and the mass of people at peak times is ridiculous. The spivs there to help....It is bad enough in normal times, but while a pandemic is still around....

So now I was free, for the rest of Saturday and Sunday to worry and consider the prospect of being unable to send the van (and the ridiculous amount of other stuff) home. Here is where I realised that this one problem took over everything. I heard that cafes and restaurants would be allowed to re-open on Monday and immediately thought of Ecorn. I should have been more happy. I wasn’t. I did decide I would go and have a chicken caesar sandwich after work on Monday.

Monday was a tough day. There quite a lot of end of year stuff at school, practical stuff, which I’m finding stressful. Then there’s this. The rule is ridiculous but it seems to be the rule! Then, some good news - someone offered to help me. I had called Ekaterina, the woman who deals with staff visas and registration. I thought that she would know about this stamp I needed or would be able to find out. She did not know about the stamp but said that she would go with me to the car centre to find out about it. I still had the papers. We went after my last lesson and when she was free. We went to the office of the ‘Saturday woman’. She wasn’t in the office but her colleague remembered me and said I could go to the main room. We went across and up to a free window. Ekaterina spoke to the police officer there. He immediately told us that no such stamp was needed and, had I brought the car, or even just the number plates, he could have done it there and then! We had gone in a taxi. I asked if there was time for me to go and get the plates then, but there was not. I resolved to go early the next day as he said it would take about 30 minutes. And suddenly the world was full of sunlight and joy again. I looked with pleasure upon my fellow Uzbeks, pushing to the front of queues and standing too close to each other.

We shared a taxi as Ekaterina lives quite close to the centre. I enjoyed (really enjoyed) my Ecorn sandwich. Life was good again. As an aside, these were my first taxi rides since The 22nd March. I saw Z—- JB so I’m sure KB is out there somewhere. Will I see it?

On Tuesday morning, as planned, I went back to the Gai. It opens at 8 so I was there at 7:30. The officer from the evening before was the first to arrive and had the key for the room (more of a hall, really). My first lesson of the day is at 9. School is a 15/20 minute taxi ride away away (I was going in to school to do some of the other jobs I have to do), so this would be a doddle. I was the only customer. I had the number plates and the documents and handed them over. The officer began the process. After about 20 minutes we went over to the cassa (the payment room. He took me. It was about £6. The woman there said I should go back to get my refund (I had given her my receipt from the other place). I agreed that I should but did not say I would not. A taxi there and back would be about £4! We returned to the main room. he continued the process. Time continued to move on. More customers began to arrive. Many went to my guy’s window and he flitted between my job and theirs. None of them could see the ‘maintain distance’ stickers on the floor. These were very obtrusive, written in Uzbek and Russian and invisible to local men. As time ticked on, it was clear I would be late for my first lesson. I sent my students an email. I waited. Eventually, my officer moved across the room, to a computer. This is it. he’s going to print my papers. After about another 20 minutes, I saw the ‘printing’ notification/animation appear on his Windows ME screen. And, five minutes later, he was handing me the paper work. It was done. My first lesson of the day was abandoned but I had what I needed.

One more observation here - no one in Tashkent will be getting coronavirus of the chin.

While I was feeling sorry for myself, over the weekend, I saw people collecting rubbish being moved on by the police. I have mentioned previously, that there are always people sorting through the rubbish bin. The mostly seem to be collecting plastic bottles but take anything of value. This group of four had huge bags of plastic and were near ‘my’ bins. I have no idea why four police men were moving them on. I wondered how many plastic bottles you would need to collect in a day to ‘make a living’. I also wondered what these people had done wrong, ‘stealing’ my rubbish. I also wondered why I had been feeling so sorry for myself trying to sort out my ‘huge problem’. Perspective. It had gone. It has returned but I did not know it could be so fleeting.

I did some lessons at school on Tuesday and began all of the sorting, packing and tidying tasks. Mafirat, my TA, was in too. The internet is not great at school! It was good tom see people, but I was not entirely comfortable.

On Thursday, working from home again, I decided to go for coffee out before work. While walking round I saw two kittens playing and stopped to say ‘hi’. One had jumped into a ditch but the other stopped and looked at me. It the looked back at its mother (I’m guessing but 99.9% sure). She came stalking round a bush. She was ready to attack me if necessary. It was not necessary.

The fire engine and disinfectant squad were also back. While I was out, they sprayed all the way up the stairs in my building, so I imagine they were going through all of the buildings.

Thursday was also the day I would take the van. I had loaded everything. I had stuck the paper transit number plate in the front window. I was ready to go. It is a short drive to Pim’s warehouse. Of course I was stopped by a police man. he wanted to know why I was driving without number plates. As soon as I showed him the paper plate stuck in the window, he was fine. At the warehouse, about six guys unpacked everything and re-packed it in their boxes. It was (is) a ridiculous amount of stuff. And so, I left Munisa with strangers, to travel alone on the journey we should have made together.

And if I did stop at Ecorn and have another caesar sandwich, that’s nobody’s business but mine.

There were children playing inside my building. This is the first time this has happened. I could hear three or four playing further up the stairs - laughing and running around. Later, while I was talking to Mairi and Fred, they were outside my door. They were having a good time. I don’t know why they were playing on the stairs and I don’t mind. It was nice to hear voices and laughter.

Also on Thursday, in my last lesson of the day, guided reading, two notable things happened. A high and low (you decide). In our morning English lesson, we had defined some vocabulary, including ‘bittersweet’. We had talked about the meaning, in terms of taste, of the two parts of the word. They said they were happy that they understood it. The guided reading was Kensuke’s Kingdom. I had not realised it was the last chapter. We were suddenly at the end. I can assure you there are no spoilers ahead. As I was reading, I suddenly found myself getting emotional. The two main characters were interacting and I felt that I was going to cry. In fact, I did. The events of the last two or three paragraphs got to me. They are relevant to my situation, I suppose. This has never happened to me before in a lesson. I always tear up at the end of Sister Act 2 (the cinema’s greatest achievement) but this is a new one. One of the students said “Oh Mr Ramsdale, don’t cry!” The postscript didn’t help, but I regained my composure.

We talked about the complex emotions of the ending. One of my brightest students only every joins in through the chat. I looked in the box and she had written one word. -‘bittersweet’. My work here is done.

I know it’s been a longer one, but there are a few loose ends and thoughts.

Returning to an old them, I heard ‘unite together’. I also heard ‘plateaued off’. Unnecessary, people. Perhaps I should have said ‘returning back to an old theme’.

I saw JB. Driving over to the centre, I saw E___JB. So they’ve been out for a little while. Appropriately, the driver got that plate from one of the centres I went to this week!

Let’s finish with Trump. I mean that in both senses of that sentence. This week he again asserted that testing causes cases of the virus, so testing is bad. He also said that if people stop calling others racists, racism will quickly go away. At what age do toddlers acquire the concept of object permanence? He’s not there yet. If we can’t see him, will he cease to exist?

And that’s it. What sort of week has it been? Bittersweet.

See you next time.

[noona-clock]

Working On It - Part 6

Genre: Teacher!AU

Pairing: Brian (Day6) x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Oh, yeah, and I love you, Nothing’s Wrong

So, like, you figured that dating when you were a (kind of) parent would be hard... but you didn’t realize just how hard it was going to be. And, honestly, it was probably a lot easier because Sammy was twelve and old enough to stay home alone and take care of himself.

But, still.

It had been just a little over two months since your first date with Brian, and you guys had only been on three more.

Just three.

Three! In two months!

The two of you talked every single day, of course, and Brian had even come over to your apartment a couple of times (though Sammy mostly stayed holed up in his room while he was there). But you really only ever went out to dinner or to a movie when Sammy was hanging out with a friend.

Granted, this was sort of your choice because you’d told Sammy he was your priority, and that was still very true. What would he think if you kept leaving him home alone to go on dates? It just felt a little irresponsible, and luckily, Brian completely understood.

A lot of things had happened in those two months, though.

You and Brian had kissed, obviously. Your second date had been just a week after your first, and he’d taken you to the city’s botanical gardens. All of the beautiful plants and flowers and topiaries and walkways had been so romantic, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from kissing him in the butterfly garden.

You had even met some of his friends, though it had been purely by accident. The two of you had been out on your third date to see a movie, and two guys had started throwing popcorn at Brian’s head. He’d murmured something about the fact they were probably students, but when he’d turned around to look, his face had lit up. And so you’d met Jae and Wonpil, his best friends from college.

You had almost met his parents, too, but you’d had to postpone because Sammy had twisted his ankle during soccer practice, and you’d taken him to an urgent care clinic just to be on the safe side.

Speaking of, soccer was something new for Sammy. The counselor had recommended trying some sort of physical activity to help deal with stress, and when Brian had suggested trying out for soccer... well, at first, Sammy had rejected the idea.

But the next week, he’d come home and announced out of the blue that he’d made the team.

And remember that little deal you’d made with Sammy? He had to try going to the counselor for a month, and if he didn’t feel like it was helping, he could stop?

Well, it was two months after that, and he was still seeing her. Only once a week now, and he didn’t ever talk much about it, but you could already see a big difference. He just seemed... happier. 

Although he still had never verbally approved of Brian, and he never talked about him or asked about him... Honestly, you weren’t quite sure why he didn’t like the fact you were dating his English teacher. Was it simply the fact it was his teacher? None of his friends were aware of it, as far as you knew, and if he got teased at school about it, you’d never heard. And you would’ve heard; the counselor emailed you updates every so often, and she had never once mentioned teasing.

So... did he just not like Brian himself? Did he not like the idea of you having a boyfriend?

Would you ever really find out?

“What are you thinking about?” Brian asked, the sudden sound of his voice making you jump a little.

“Hmm?” you asked, turning your head to look at him as he drove you back to your apartment. “Oh... what else?”

“Sammy’s fine,” he assured you with a little chuckle, reaching over and taking your hand. He brought it up to his lips and placed a few kisses along your knuckles.

Tonight was the first time you’d decided to leave him at home while you and Brian went to go see a play downtown. Sammy had been set to go over to a friend’s house, but the plan had fallen through. You’d fretted about leaving him alone, but Sammy had assured you over and over he would be fine. He would most likely be playing video games all night, and he would keep the front door locked. He wouldn’t open it for anybody.

“I know, I just --” A sigh escaped your lips, and you simply shrugged. “Am I ever not going to feel guilty? He’s still not happy about the fact you and I are dating, and I don’t really know why.”

“He’s twelve,” Brian reminded you. “And it’s only been two months. It’s going to take him a while to figure out all of his emotions and feelings, even with the counselor’s help. Just give him some time.”

A tiny smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as you gazed over at your wonderful, handsome, brilliant boyfriend.

“Truly, I’m really glad you know so much about pre-teens. Yes, I was a twelve-year-old once, but I was a twelve-year-old girl. I knew nothing about boys - I still know nothing about boys. Your wisdom and insight are more appreciated than you know.”

Brian laughed, rolling his eyes just a little as he kissed the back of your hand again. 

You then suddenly realized you hadn’t checked your phone since getting out of the play; you weren’t expecting anything from Sammy, but... you never know!

After sliding your phone out of your purse, you scrolled through the notifications to look for anything important. Your eyebrows knit together when you saw that Sammy had actually called you not too long ago...

You hummed curiously before sliding the alert over and calling him back.

...But he didn’t answer.

You let out a low, inquisitive hum, and you saw Brian glance over at you.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Sammy called me a little while ago. He didn’t leave a message, and I just tried calling him back, but he didn’t answer.”

“He’s probably asleep,” Brian suggested.

It was 9:30 on a Saturday. He wasn’t asleep. But he could just be caught up in his video game so you would wait to worry more until you got home.

Except... you would worry. Because you were a parent. It’s what parents do.

Brian could obviously tell you were worried because he offered to come up with you when he did finally arrive at your apartment. Normally, you would assure him it was fine, he didn’t have to.

But tonight you accepted.

You felt his hand on the small of your back as you walked up to your apartment, and it didn’t leave as you unlocked the front door.

“Sammy?” you called out immediately after stepping inside. 

The lights were still on, and his bedroom door was open, so he obviously wasn't sleeping.

But your call received no response, so you tried again.

“Sam!” you repeated, a bit louder this time.

...Again, nothing.

“Sammy?!”

Brian walked in past you into the apartment, heading quickly to his room to check in there. Meanwhile, you took your phone out again and called him.

Not even a second after you heard the ringing in your ear, you heard --

Sammy’s ringtone.

Brian stepped inside Sammy’s room, appearing a few moments later with Sammy’s phone in hand.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “He’s not here, he doesn’t have his phone.”

Tears immediately filled your eyes as your heart began to hammer in your chest, panic rising up your throat.

And then you suddenly realized something.

“Oh my god, Brian,” you stammered, hardly even able to get coherent words out of your mouth. “Whenever I leave, I -- I always tell Sammy to call me if he needs -- needs anything or if --”

You choked back a sob just thinking about it.

“Or if someone tries to break in and kidnap him. It’s a joke, of course, but what -- what if that’s why he called me earlier?! And now someone took him?!”

Brian strode over to you, reaching out and placing his hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay, just try to calm down,” he said in a firm, clear voice. “The door was locked when we got here, remember? The apartment doesn’t look like anyone was here who wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Then where is he?! Where’s my kid?!” you cried semi-hysterically, the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“We will find him,” Brian assured you confidently. “His friend probably called him and said ‘never mind, you can come over,’ and Sam forgot his phone or something.”

You tried to take a deep, calming breath. You tried to tell yourself Brian was right. But your maternal instinct was too strong; all you wanted right now was to see Sammy in front of you, safe and sound and not kidnapped.

“I’ll look through his phone and call his friends, okay?” Brian gazed into your eyes, his eyebrows raised as he awaited your answer.

You nodded, and Brian leaned in to place a reassuring kiss on your forehead.

Your hand flew to your mouth when Brian stepped away, and you began chewing on your cuticles as you paced around the living room.

“Which friend was he supposed to hang out with tonight?”

...Your mind went completely blank.

“Uh...”

“I’ll just try all of them,” Brian interrupted. “It could’ve been a different friend, anyway.”

He clicked on Sammy’s phone screen and brought it up to his ear. You paced some more.

How had this happened? Why had this happened? What if he had actually been kidnapped and now he was in a van or a basement somewhere, blindfolded and terrified, and --

Just after Brian greeted whoever picked up the phone, you heard a faint jingle of keys. And then you heard a key slide into the lock.

Your heart, which was already pounding, started racing even more, almost to the point where it stopped beating altogether.

The doorknob turned, and when the door opened, you’d never been more relieved in your entire life.

The sight of Sammy made you burst into tears, and you rushed over to him, grabbing him and wrapping your arms around him.

“Oh, thank god you’re all right,” you wailed.

“Wh -- I -- Aunt Y/N, what’s going --” Sam stammered.

You pulled back, cradling his bewildered face in your palms and trying to speak clearly through your tears. “You called me but you weren’t here and you left your phone and I thought you had been kidnapped but you’re back and you’re okay and don’t you ever do that to me again!”

“I’m sor --” But you pulled him into another hug before he could even finish his sentence.

“Where were you?” you finally asked, though you didn’t pull away from him even one centimeter.

“I went to the grocery store,” he explained. “I really wanted some mac and cheese, but we didn’t have any. I tried to call you to ask permission, but you didn’t pick up, and I really thought I would be back before you got home. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just glad you’re okay,” you sniffed as you rubbed his back.

But tomorrow you would probably have to scold him a little for going out at night all by himself. Granted, the grocery store was literally right down the street, but still.

You finally pulled away, giving him a little space to breathe, and you noticed he was holding the bag with the mac and cheese in one hand... and something else in his other hand.

“What’s that?” you asked, even though you could see very clearly what it was. A bouquet of flowers.

“...Oh.” Sammy’s cheeks flushed, and he immediately avoided eye contact with both you and Brian. “I... uh... I was going to say they’d been delivered while you were away. From... from Mr. Kang.”

Your brow furrowed, and you quickly shot a glance at Brian.

Sammy had bought you flowers and was going to pretend they were from Brian?

“Why would you --”

“He hasn’t gotten you any!” Sammy pointed out a little defensively. “He’s your boyfriend, he should be buying you flowers.”

Okay, you were still a little confused... but your heart had just broken in the best way possible. Because it was actually really sweet of Sammy to even think of that.

“Ouch,” Brian chuckled, looking successfully admonished. “You’re right, I’ve been extremely lacking in that department.”

“You’re welcome,” Sammy retorted with a hidden smirk.

You watched as Sammy headed into the kitchen to make his macaroni and cheese, Brian following him to take the flowers and put them in a vase.

More tears streamed down your cheeks because, after a few minutes of total and utter panic, you were now happy. Happy as happy could be. Sammy was okay, Brian had been willing to do whatever he needed to help, and you were fairly sure there were no two other people you’d rather have here with you right now.

Once the flowers were sitting on your kitchen counter, Brian clapped Sammy on the back before making his way over to you.

“I’m gonna head out,” he murmured before pressing his lips to your cheek. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes pleading as you shifted your gaze to him. You wanted to make sure he knew just how thankful you were for everything he’d done, for being with you and helping you.

Brian simply smiled at you and took a few steps toward the door. You followed him, and once he was out in the hallway, you grabbed the collar on his blazer and pulled him down for a real kiss.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “You are amazing.”

A bright smile lit up his face (and your heart), and he kissed you again.

And before he could pull away, you wanted to make sure he knew. “You don’t have to buy me flowers. Don’t give in to peer pressure.”

Brian had opened his mouth to reply, but he froze after hearing your second comment.

“...Sam is not one of my peers,” he pointed out with a very quizzical expression.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, swatting playfully at his chest. “I’m not expecting a huge bouquet of flowers tomorrow or anything, I promise.”

“Okay,” Brian teased. You could tell he 1) did not believe you, and 2) was definitely planning on buying you flowers sometime in the very near future.

But rather than dissuade him of this notion, you simply kissed him one last time and wished him a good night. Because your nephew was safe and all in one piece inside, and you needed to remind yourself of that.

After locking the door behind you, you hurried over to the couch where Sammy was starting on his fresh bowl of mac and cheese. You still couldn’t quite believe this whole fiasco had started because of mac and cheese, but... what are you gonna do?

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling your legs and scooting as close to him as he would allow - closer, actually. You were a little afraid to let him out of your sight.

He cast you a suspicious glance when you reached out and began combing his shaggy hair back from his forehead (and you made a mental note to yourself to take him to get a haircut tomorrow).

“Aunt Y/N, I’m fine,” he mumbled, mouth full of elbow macaroni and fake cheese.

“I know,” you retorted with pursed lips. “Just let me be clingy for a little bit, and then I’ll be fine.”

A strangled groan escaped from Sammy’s throat... but he didn’t move away. He just kept on eating.

“So...” you began after a few minutes. You had let Sammy eat most of his meal in silence, but he was almost done, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. “The flowers. Were you... trying to help Brian?”

“Yeah,” Sammy murmured.

“Does that mean you like him now?”

“I’ve always liked him.”

“But as a teacher. You haven’t always liked him as my... boyfriend.”

Sammy let out a soft sigh, setting his fork down in his empty bowl and leaning forward to put it on the coffee table.

“I was just mad at him for making me go to the counselor,” he explained, much to your surprise. “I didn’t want him to think I was... weird.”

“He definitely doesn’t think that, sweetie,” you told him softly.

“I know. And I’m not mad at him anymore. I... going to the counselor has helped me a lot. I’m sorry I yelled at you about it that one time. I’m really glad you made me give it a try. I... I still miss mom and dad so, so much, but I’m starting to feel a lot better.”

Obviously, his words brought tears to your eyes, but you tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to embarrass him and discourage him from talking like this.

“And also...” he turned to face you a little better, his brow furrowed and his expression a bit bashful. “I can tell you really like him.”

“You can?” you asked with a tiny, sniffly chuckle.

Sammy nodded, an almost-grin appearing on his lips. “Yeah. You smile whenever you talk to him. And... you just seem really happy. I’m feeling happier, so you should feel happier, too. And if Mr. Kang helps you feel happier, then... I’m okay with it.”

It was no longer possible to keep the tears in your eyes from spilling over, so you quickly pulled Sammy into a hug before he could see (though you were sure he had, anyway).

“I love you,” you whispered, holding him tightly. Your heart leaped when you felt his arms come around you and hug you back.

“I love you, too,” he replied. And he didn’t even sound begrudging or embarrassed or sarcastic or anything!

There had been quite a few times over the past two months when you’d felt like things could be okay. When you’d felt a small glimmer of hope.

But right now, you actually knew things could be okay. But not even just that they could be okay.

They would be okay.

As you got ready for bed not too long after your heartfelt conversation with Sammy, you heard a buzz on your nightstand. And after rinsing off your toothbrush and patting in your moisturizer, you hurried over to your bed to get snuggled in and see what the notification had been.

A smile immediately came to your lips when you saw it was a text from Brian. You didn’t hesitate to open it, of course; you’d never been one to play that kind of game. ‘Hard to get’ was not your thing.

...Did you notice? Notice what? What in tarnation was he talking about?

But the really annoying part about all this?

You did dream about him.

...Ugh. You hated when he was right.

Part 7

[seouledbysisi]

New World

Chapter 10

Gianna was solidly asleep when she was awoken by Mia bouncing on her bed.

“Wake your ass up!” Mia yelled as she fell over on her.

Gianna groaned loudly. “Just five more minutes, Mom!”

Mia slapped her shoulder. “Girl I am not your mama!”

Gianna’s eyes popped open. She thought she had still been dreaming. “Why are you in here so early being so loud?”

“Because you need to contact SM like right now!” Mid exclaimed.

“Huh? You couldn’t tell me this in like four more hours?” Mia yawned.

Mia jerked her up. “No, you need to answer that email right now!” She urged.

“Why? Why can’t you just let me sleep?” Gianna complained as she laid on Mia’s lap.

Mia took a deep breath. “Because I head to Korea in about two days to sign a contract with SM as a stylist!”

Gianna’s eyes flew open. “What? How? Oh my gosh!”

“Johnny pulled some strings for me.” Mia smiled.

“Wow. He really must like you.” Gianna sighed.

“He didn’t want you to be alone.” Mia whispered.

Gianna looked up at her. “You told him about that job offer?”

“More like I told him about you being mad at me. I needed someone to vent to.”

“It’s just funny because Taeyong hasn’t breathed of word of it. Like not even a hint at it.” Gianna spoke in confusion.

“Maybe Johnny didn’t tell him?”

“Or maybe he just doesn’t care.” Gianna sighed and pulled her phone out. She pulled out the email from SM and wrote her acceptance of the job. “Happy?” She gave her a fake smile.

Mia rolled her eyes. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Johnny probably just hasn’t gotten around to telling him.”

“Come on now, Mia! You don’t even believe that! It doesn’t even matter anyway. At least it’ll make things easier with being professional around each other. “ Gianna shrugged and got out of bed.

Mia took a deep breath. “What are you going to do about this apartment?”

“Keep it? The rent is paid up all year. I’m sure my mom will just continue to pay it.” Gianna brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back into a pony tail.

“Why do you have an attitude? I mean I’m sorry that you feel like Taeyong doesn’t care. Maybe he does, or maybe he doesn’t but he’s not the only guy on earth. And quite frankly you shouldn’t even be this upset. You have a chance of a life time working for one of the most popular entertainment companies in Korea. That should have you high off of life!” Mia rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room.

Gianna grabbed her phone and called her mom. She answered almost immediately which was strange. She normally was ‘too busy’. “Mom, I got a job offer.”

It was loud in her mom’s background. “Really sweetie? Where?” She sounded excited nonetheless.

“This might be hard to accept but I’m moving to South Korea in a few days.” She revealed.

“Whoa! You’re trying to get like me. Traveling overseas for work! That’s my girl! I’ll continue to pay the rent if Mia wants to stay in it without you. It’s totally fine!” Her mom stated.

Gianna giggled a bit. “She’s actually coming with me. She has a friend that got her a job out there too.”

“Wow! Is it a guy?!”

“Yeah it is. But-“

Her mom squealed a bit. “Maybe you’ll get yourself a guy when you get there! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Gianna squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah. So nice.” She spoke dryly.

“Are you okay, honey?” Her mom asked. She could tell in her voice that she didn’t seem happy.

“Yeah mom. But can you keep the apartment just in case things don’t go as planned?” Gianna took a deep breath as she stared out of her window at the lake that sat behind their apartment complex.

Her mom agreed and they ended the call.

She began packing her clothes up. She wasn’t sure exactly when she would have to head to South Korea but may as well be prepared. Her phone pinged with a notification. She had hoped it was Taeyong. Sadly it was a email. She opened her yahoo account. It was a email from SM.

Greetings Gianna,

We are happy to have you onboard. We hope that you are ready to get this show on the road. We have already drawn up contracts and have attached a copy to this email. Tomorrow you will receive information for your flight to South Korea. We hope that you have prepared yourself to leave as soon as this coming up Saturday. If not we can rearrange times and dates at the best of our abilities. We have prepared living arrangements as well. When you arrive you will be greeted at the airport and immediately shown to your new apartment, which is not far from the SM headquarters, and given a quick tour around the city. Thank you for your acceptance and welcome to the SM Entertainment family!

Johnny

The guys were at a radio station in Melbourne, Australia talking about their concert which would be held that night.

“So you’ve been here a few times before. Has anything changed since the last time?” The radio host asked.

Johnny immediately got ready to speak. “Not really. Our fans are always radiating so much energy wherever we go so we’re always expecting that type of love.”

“So this might sound weird but are you all single?” The female host asked.

All the guys looked from one another when Johnny translated the question into korean. They all nodded.

“We travel so much and see so many beautiful people. It’s hard to just settle on one person to give all of your attention to.” Johnny quickly answered.

“But I’d say we’re never going to be single. NCTzens give us everything we need whether it’s a friend, girlfriend, wife, family. They all fall into those categories for us at whatever moment that we need it.” Haechan added.

Taeyong simply nodded. He hadn’t said a word the entire interview and it wasn’t that he couldn’t. His English had actually gotten pretty good, he just wasn’t in much of a talkative mood.

They wrapped the interview up and headed to the hotel to get some rest before the concert. Johnny hurried to the elevator to catch up with Taeyong. The others decided to explore the hotel some more.

“Dude, why’re you so quiet today?” Johnny asked as he draped his arm over Tae’s shoulder.

Tae shrugged.

“So you’re not gonna talk to me?”

He shrugged again and watched the numbers as the elevator ascended.

“Really TY? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” He apple and got off the elevator on his floor.

Johnny started to hop off with him.

“Don’t follow me. Please. I just want to rest up for tonight.” Taeyong shot him a small smile and walked down the long hallway to his room.

Johnny hopped back on the elevator and pulled his phone out. He called Mia.

“Hello?” She breathing a bit heavy.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Why are you breathing like that?”

“Because I’m struggling over here with packing!” She yelled a bit.

“Well excuse me! Why is everyone being rude today?!”

Mia sighed. “I’m sorry I’m just frustrated.”

“That’s seems to be the explanation for everyone today. So when do you leave out?”

“Saturday. When will you be back in Korea?” Mia asked as she plopped down on her bed.

Johnny checked the calendar on his phone. “We have a break in between for like three weeks so next Sunday I’m sure we will be back.”

“Sounds cool. Y’all need a break.”

“It’s not a real break because we have a fan meet too during that break but for the most part we’ll be free to do what we want.” Johnny explained.

Mia had a burning question on her tongue but she was almost scared to ask. “I have a question but-“ she hesitated.

“What is it?” He opened his room door and laid on the bed.

“Like would you want to hang out one day during your break? I mean if you don’t want to that’s fine. I don’t even know why I asked- I’m just-“ she began to ramble.

Johnny chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want you to feel obligated to be with me or show me more attention than you have. I feel like we’ve connected but that could just be me overthinking things because I do-“

“Whoa! You’re selling yourself way too short! We definitely are connecting.” He admitted. “I plan on seeing a lot of you, okay?”

Mia breathed a breath of relief. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean we’ll have to be very particular about the places we go but I do want to get to know you more. I think you’re cool and anyone who keeps a smile on my face deserves some of my time.”

“Wow. And here I was thinking that I’ve been dreaming all of this time.” Mia told him with a giggle.

Johnny laughed. “Nah you’re awake. Taeyong is being weird. He’s shutting everyone out. Including me.”

“Why? Over what Gianna said?”

“I guess. He doesn’t really get involved with females so I think because he likes her this is hard for him. I think he feels like he can’t have her and it sucks knowing that someone else can.”

Mia cleared her throat. “Hypotheyically speaking if she did like him, why wouldn’t he be able to have her?”

“He doesn’t date. Period. He’s never done that. He doesn’t know how. All he does is work and make sure we’re all in line. He puts everyone else before himself. He always will.”

“Well eventually he’s going to long for someone to cater to his feelings and needs.”

Johnny stared at the ceiling. “I know that, the problem is getting him to understand that.”