#Keep in mind this is the same woman who took away my laptop in highschool after I missed one work assignment.

[roadimusprime]

trying not to believe they turnt the Internet off before they left for work. 😒

[iluvapplesxh]

『Pick Me Up』

✯ pair: reneé rapp x fem!reader

✰ summary: Reneé decided to surprise you after your last class of the week by a little hang out proposition, and although you show a little distaste towards it, you definitely don't regret it.

✯ warnings: none(?), fluff, shitty ahh kiss scene, maybe curse words, !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: uh so I tried to make it short...it's 2k+ words. and also my clumsy ass lost the request...im gonna cry

The continuous monotone voice of your college history professor made your focus slip from whatever he was saying more and more by the minute as the class dragged on and on seemingly forever.

Your elbow was propped up on the wooden desk in front of you, chin resting on the heel of your palm as the letters on the board became blurry while your mind slipped into the gutter of daydreams.

Those daydreams were about a very specific someone. The woman you couldn’t stop thinking about, but at the same time hated to do it. I mean, who would like to imagine such things about their friend? Exactly, no one. Well, at least not you. But with every touch and hug you felt more and more like she was just keeping you at arm's reach from something that the both of you are afraid to explore. Or maybe you were just delusional. 

But the way her hand would linger on the small of your back every time she let you walk out a door first, or the way her arms would wrap around you just a little tighter before pulling away, or way her arm around your waist would slip a little lower whenever someone got a little too chatty with you in her presence, or how her hand would give your thigh a gentle squeeze every time she sensed you were anxious or nervous about something. The way her pretty plump pink lips would curl into a reassuring smile while she looks at you, her blue eyes sparkling mesmerizingly under the lighting.

Oh she made you crazy.

But of course, those were just simple actions of friendship. Yeah, because you were friends. She’s just your super hot, pop star friend who is flirty with everyone. And you were just her childhood friend from highschool who attends a lame college and has little to no other friends. A bomb of a dynamic. 

Friends.

Your teeth let go of your bottom lip and your mind snapped out of the daydreams. Your head turned, looking around the now empty classroom and with a sigh you scrambled to pack up your notebooks and pens, pushing everything into your backpack carelessly before slipping your laptop into it in a little more gentle manner. Then you slung the backpack over your shoulder and stood up, walking down the long aisle of desks and benches, slowly making your way out of the classroom.

When you were out of there, your hands immediately reached for the pair of headphones hanging around your neck and lifted it up on the top of your head after turning it on. You made your way down the crowded corridor and your hand reached into your pocket, fishing out your phone and playing the first song your finger tapped on. When the beats and notes of the song reached your ears, you sighed out softly through your nose and slipped your phone back into your pocket.

You took calm steps down the big stairs leading to the lobby as your head filled with the low hum of the music coming from your headphones, your fingers tapping mindlessly against the side of your thigh as your arm hung by your side.

A soft grunt left your lips when you reached the entrance and you used your whole body to push open those heavy ass doors, letting them shut behind yourself as you went down another flight of stairs, the bright sun hitting your eyes which narrowed at the sudden stinging. 

When you reached the end of the seemingly never ending stairs, you were just about ready to take a left towards the parking lot when you felt a soft hand on your shoulder. You swung around with wide eyes, ready to throw a punch but your body relaxed when your eyes met Reneé’s blue ones. You breathed out and placed a hand against your chest, feeling your heart beat a little faster. Your other hand reached up and pushed the headphones off your head.

“Sorry, baby.” Reneé started once she was sure you could hear her. “Didn’t mean to scare you” A cheeky smile made its way on her face as her eyes looked over your still alert body.

“Shit, Reneé” You huffed out but then straightened up. “What are you doing here?” Your head turned from side to side, eyes scanning the area to see if anyone has noticed her yet.

“I came to pick you up, of course” Reneé stated matter of factly, her arms folding over her chest. “I thought I could surprise you since it's Friday and you don’t have classes on weekends and we could go out somewhere.” 

You took in a deep breath, processing the blonde’s words. “Uh…sure. I guess we can do that, but you could have texted me or something” You chuckled a little. 

“Ahw but, baby, surprising you seemed like so much more fun” The tip of your ears turned pink at the nickname before you slapped yourself internally. 

“Sure, it did” Your eyes rolled as you turned to the side and looked at the red Ford-Mustang parked by the sidewalk. “I haven’t seen her before…” Your brows raised as you glanced back at Reneé.

A soft chuckle left her lips as she shrugged. “Does it matter? Just get in, baby” 

Your eyes narrowed at her before a soft breath left your mouth and you nodded, stepping closer to the car and placing your hand on the door handle of the passenger’s side. And just when your fingers wrapped around the silver coloured handle, ready to pull, a shrieking scream came from behind you. 

“Holy shit! Reneé Rapp” 

You heard a little giggle leave your friend’s lips while you rolled your eyes and pulled the door open, taking off your backpack and tossing it in before turning around to see a little crowd of gays forming. You stifled a groan as you leaned against the car. 

“Oh my God, can you sign my arm? I wanna get it tattooed!” 

“Wait, me too! Me too!” 

“Can I hug you, Reneé? Please?!”

An annoyed frown formed on your face as Reneé was swarmed by the college students, some of whom were your classmates in some classes. You watched with a glare as Reneé happily obliged and hugged and interacted with the fans.

“Alright, guys, guys” Reneé laughed loudly. “I love you all, so much but I have to go, alright?” A chorus of groans came from the crowd but luckily everyone agreed and stepped away from the singer. When Reneé walked in front of you again with a smile, taking a deep breath, your own frown formed into a small grin. “Ready, baby?” 

God, if words could kill. 

“Yeah” You let out, almost breathlessly. “You?” 

Only a soft laugh escaped her mouth as she placed a hand on your shoulder before rounding the car and slipping inside the driver’s side. Your lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes followed her, letting them slip just the tiniest bit lower before you shook your head and also got into the car, buckling in.

The engine started up with a deep rumble and it filled you with a little excitement, eyes lighting up a little. Reneé watched your face with fondness on her own before the car began moving, driving away from the large building of your college. 

“How was your day?” Reneé spoke up after a couple of moments, her right hand resting a little more at the bottom of the steering wheel while her left one on top, her silver rings flashing when the sunlight reflected on them. Your gaze lingered on her hands for a moment before you blinked and looked up at the woman.

“What?” 

Reneé laughed softly and shook her head in amusement. “You’re adorable, babygirl” Her laughs died down slowly. “I asked about your day”

“Oh” You leaned back in your seat and shrugged your shoulders. “Good enough, I guess. Nothing special happened.”Reneé hummed softly, taking in the small amount of information. “Where did you plan on going, anyway?”

Her shoulders lifted up. “I’m not sure, we could just drive around like this” Her gaze shifted to you for a moment before looking back at the road. 

Your brows furrowed at her words. “Uh, I mean…we could but” You tilted your head at her. “That’s just boring”

Reneé laughed before humming. “Is it now?” She tutted and shook her head. “We can’t have that.”  She pauses for a second, looking a little lost in thought before speaking up again.”Alright, we can just buy a bunch of snacks and drinks and park in an empty parking lot and hang out” 

Your eyebrows shot up when she said that. Wait, that kind of sounds like a date? You shook your head a little before nodding when you caught her eyes. “Yeah, sounds nice”

Reneé smiles at you again and squeals a little. “Alrighty.”

–

And an endlessly long and tiring shopping trip later, the red muscle car was parked in an empty parking lot under one of the street lights, its orange hue reflecting on the shiny red paint of Reneé’s car while the two of you sat on the hood of it, the snacks and drinks between the two of you.

Your legs swung back and forth a little as you leaned your upper body weight on your hands behind you, looking out into the darkness in the distance.

“So,” You heard Reneé start, but you only hummed in response, eyes stuck in the distance. There was a moment of silence as Reneé looked at you. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something…” She paused and you hummed again. A long breath escaped her lips and she straightened up a little, turning her body towards yours. And when you felt her shift a little closer, your heart rate picked up. “Uhm…” Reneé swallowed hard as her own pulse quickened. 

“I love you” 

And although the words weren't unfamiliar coming from her mouth, this felt a little different and you couldn’t for the life of you explain why. So, after a moment you chuckled wryly and smiled. 

“I love you, too, Neé” 

Reneé scoffed audibly and rolled her eyes, hesitating for a moment before one of her hands reached out, ring clad fingers cupping your chin gently and turning your face towards her. “No, baby, I mean…” 

Your brows furrowed at her actions and you studied her expression, searching for an explanation. Reneé didn’t finish her sentence, instead, she leaned forward and your eyes widened. You felt her breath against your lips for a second before those soft pink lips pressed against yours. After a moment of thinking, you kissed back gingerly. 

You felt a soft breath leave Reneé’s nose, air tickling your skin. And your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into her more, the kiss growing passionate, but still just the slightest bit held back, afraid. 

Reneé pulled back, your faces still mere millimeters apart and her eyes open at the same time as yours. As the pupils of her eyes dilated the small specks of brown around them faded a little, leaving just the deep blue seas staring back at you. And both of your gazes spoke volumes, no words needed as your lips crashed against each other again.

Your head tilted to the side while Reneé’s hand slid up from your chin, cupping your jaw gently. She pulled you closer, completely lost in the ecstasy of the feeling. But you didn’t mind, you were the same. You couldn’t seem to get enough of her plump lips against yours, your mind hazy, chest tingling as your heart thudded against it and your stomach filled with thousands of butterflies.

So you were more than friends after all.

Friends with feelings for each other. Feelings which seemed to have been held down for a long long time and burst out just at the same moment. And it felt good to finally have her lips against yours, her hand on your face was so soft you could have died on the spot happily.

Turns out, you love surprises.

✯ a/n: guys, how the fuck do you write fluffy kissing scenes??? 😭

REQUESTS OPEN<3

[nxrthmizu]

love in bubble wraps.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.9k

author's note | based on a real life experience... :)

Love, you think, comes in many forms. Sometimes love is a warm, home-cooked meal that is now cooked at least once a week because you told your mother you liked it. Other times, love is laughing and crying alongside the friends you’ve known since pre-school because everyone passed their highschool finals with flying colours. Throughout our lives, we gradually come to meet the different forms of love, because it comes in all shapes, colours, and sizes.

First, we learn that love is a roof that you can always turn to when a storm blows in. Then, we learn that love is knowing that there are people who will drop everything to help you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Lastly, we learn to interlock our fingers with the one we wish to walk to the end of time with.

Then again, love varies from person to person— Just like how the goddess of love, Aphrodite, looks different to every soul that sets its sights on her; Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder. For some, love comes in the form of a warm body to cuddle next to on a rainy day. For others, love comes in the form of a jewelled ring. For you, love comes in the form of a 6’2 man who still doesn’t know how to tame his bedhead.

Tetsurou is often too busy for his own good, always running around here and there to secure contracts, ensuring that Japan can make a name for itself during the Olympics. He books train tickets to opposite ends of Japan at least once a month, leaving before the sun rises and returning after it sets. The sun never dictates his work day, because while his coworkers work from nine to five, Tetsurou works until he finishes his tasks.

Okay, so your husband is a bit of a workaholic. And maybe not just a bit.

“L/N-san,” Your colleague asks one day out of sheer curiosity. A group of women are gathered around the snack station, sipping on cheap, machine-produced instant coffee as they gossip about their marital lives instead of working. “Now that I think about it… I’ve never met your husband, have I?”

“Ah,” You sweat-drop nervously at this. Wonderful— Your parents are already pressuring you about how Kuroo rarely visits with you— And now your coworkers, too? “He’s quite busy. He works very hard to make sure that we’ll be well-off in the future.” You respond, knowing that your reply is just a thinly-veiled way of saying ‘He’s rarely home,’.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Wherever you go, there’s always a middle-aged lady who has nothing better to do than to prey on the weak spots of your life, “It must feel lonely. You must feel so sad when you see my husband pick me up from work.” A smirk dances up her lips as she waits for you to walk into her trap, smiling as widely as a spider watching its incoming meal.

“Not really,” A practiced smile counters hers as you take a sip of your coffee. “I know Tetsurou loves me— There’s an unbreakable trust between us. He might not be home often, but I know that he’s working hard so that we can have a better tomorrow… And that’s sort of comforting, in a sense. Knowing that Tetsurou wishes for a future where we’re financially stable, where we can just spend a whole day doing nothing in each other’s presence…”

A chorus of ‘awws’ makes you blush. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the middle-aged coworker huff in failure. You mentally fist-pump the air at your victory.

“Anyway, I heard that you got engaged last weekend, Shiho-san,” Changing the topic quickly, you smile when the attention of all the ladies instantly redirects to the said woman, who blushes fiercely as they all coo at her ring. “Congratulations!”

“Oh my! He bought you such a beautiful ring… Ah, Shiho-san, you’re so lucky!”

“My husband also bought me a new bag last week,” The middle-aged woman chips in proudly, cocking her head towards her cubicle, where the leather handbag sits atop a tower of documents. “It’s very expensive.”

“That’s nice of him! It’s been forever since my husband bought me something.” Sighs another lady. Most of the group hums in agreement, sharing sympathetic looks with those that share the same fate.

“At the beginning, when we were still dating, Hayato used to buy me so many things, now…” The coworker that brings homemade cookies every New Years’ party says, looking dejected. “It’s like once we’re married, they don’t have to worry about making us happy anymore…”

“Ah, what about you, L/N-san? Does your husband buy you things often?”

You groan internally when the attention shifts to you once more. Honestly, you’re just there to listen and enjoy your coffee— Must you keep getting dragged into the conversation? “Well, personally I don’t really need my husband to buy me things to keep me happy, but… He does bring back trinkets whenever he travels.” You think about it for a while, then brighten when you remember the latest thing Tetsurou brought back for you.

“What is it?” Your change in expression isn’t missed by your coworkers, who preen with curiosity, excited to know what made you brighten up.

“Ah, it’s nothing… I promise, you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.” You chuckle.

“Come on!” “Be a good sport, L/N-san!” “We’re curious now, you can’t not tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You sigh, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Three days ago, Saturday ]

You were on the couch, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with the Netflix subscription Tetsurou got for you to occupy yourself with while he was out of town. Your cat, Kazume (nicknamed after your husband’s best friend) lazed on your lap, yawning once in a while and swatting at the stray threads from your sweater.

Somewhere in between your fifteenth and seventeenth episode, the front door chirped with the sound of someone inserting a key into the lock. You perked up at the noise, Kazume yelping in protest as he almost slipped off.

“Oh, sorry Kazu.” You said quickly, a smile widening your lips as the front door opened.

“I’m ho—” Before your husband could finish his sentence, you were already at his side. Kazume meowed loudly from the couch, complaining about you abandoning him for another man. Tetsurou’s eyes softened, the edges of his hazel irises worn down by exhaustion. You took his laptop bag from him, as well as the folders he has in hand, balancing them like how you would balance your three grocery bags when Tetsurou wasn’t around to help. “I missed you too, but are you sure you can carry all of my files with one hand?”

“Yes!” You replied confidently, showcasing your balance as you wobbled through the living room with all of your husband’s stuff. Tetsurou’s laugh echoed through the apartment as he followed you, his reflexes coming into play as he dived for a falling file. “Oops.” You giggled, helping him up after he practically hurled himself at the floor.

Tetsurou shook his head, sighing fondly while he hugged you from the back, taking comfort in the familiar smell of your hair shampoo. “I missed you.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You hummed, reaching back to stroke your hands through his still-untamed bedhead.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tetsurou leapt up suddenly, chucking his backpack onto the ground. “I brought back something for you!”

“I already have like, twenty-five keychains from Hyogo,” You reminded him, “Please tell me it’s not a…” Your voice trailed off when Tetsurou proudly whipped his gift from his backpack, hazel eyes shining for your reaction.

“... So?” Tetsurou grinned widely, like a five-year-old child holding up his drawing for his mother to critique.

“Oh my god, I love you.” You declared in your 80 sq ft kitchen, grabbing the gift from him. “I’ll clean up your stuff, go take a bath and we can have dinner while watching the…'' You pursed your lips as you try to recall the information that kept evading you like an annoying fly. “... 15th? 16th episode of Grey’s.”

“You started that without me? I said I wanted to watch that.” Tetsurou pouted petulantly like a child.

“I finished all the other stuff I wanted to watch,” You told him unapologetically. “And Kazume wanted to watch it too. Now hurry and take a bath or I’m starting without you.”

Twenty minutes later, you were cuddled up to your husband, who did not bother to comb his hair (“It’ll just be messy later anyway,” His reasoning was). Every few seconds, he would scoop some cold mash potato out of the giant bowl (The two of you were too impatient to heat it with the microwave) and feed you. All throughout the episode, there was the constant pop-pop-pop of you working your way through the giant piece of bubble wrap Tetsurou had brought home for you.

“You know, I was thinking,” You hummed as Tetsurou pressed ‘Next Episode’. “If It were any other woman, they might have slapped you for bringing just bubble wrap home after a whole week away.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you aren’t ‘any other woman’, am I?” Your husband smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before picking up the mash potato bowl again. “Are we just going to have mashed potatoes for dinner?”

“I bought spicy instant noodles yesterday, we can have that later if you want.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Present, Tuesday ]

“That’s actually so sweet of him!” Your colleague coos as you finish your story. “Wish I had a husband like that…'' Even the middle-aged lady begrudgingly nods in agreement. For a moment, you feel a surge of pride— It was your husband they were talking about— Your sweet, hardworking, dork of a 6’2 bedhead.

“You wouldn’t be able to survive.” Another lady snorts. “That guy is away for weeks at a time.”

You hum. “Well, at least he calls back every night, regardless of how tired he is.” In the corner of your mind, you remember that he makes sure to call his grandmother every weekend, and that he sends his parents (and grandparents) money every month, that he visits your parents the first Sunday after he’s back from his trips— Not to mention that he always brings a gift of wellness products (The most recent one was a box of abalone).

The group of women swoon once more.

“Well, I guess we should get back to work,” You dispose of your paper cup in the trash, brushing your hands off. “See you ladies later.”

The moment you’re back at your desk, you take out your phone to text your husband, who is, no doubt, going to be very, very confused.

[ y/n ] 2.37pm

— we have a problem

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.39pm

— what’s wrong???

[ y/n ] 2.38pm

— i may have accidentally caused 20 women in my office to fall in love with you

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.38pm

— what ???

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

you know it's love when your dad comes home with this giant piece of bubble wrap and your mom literally squeals and snatches it to immediately start popping it on the couch while browsing facebook on her ipad

[xxsanshinexx]

The Definition of Love

Shoutout to @soulofatiny for inspiring this work

Characters: Wooyoung x Reader

Words: 5835

Summary: You only knew the textbook definition of love, but really, was that the same as the real thing?

~

Love was a thing you only knew the definition of. Categorized by the dictionary as a noun and occasionally a verb. In one sense, it was an intense feeling of deep affection. In another, it was a great interest and pleasure in something. In all these definitions though; they merely just gave love a general description, pushing the words off into another adjacent category like interest or affection. Never once did the definitions give you any insight into what love really was.

What it felt like.

It happened on your third month of eleventh grade. Students were rowdy. Teachers were starting to fully feel the nuisances that came with description of their jobs. The administration was struggling to adjust to the new characters littering the school grounds. And then there was you, avoiding all of the above as best you could. You swerved around gaggles of friends at lunch, doing your best not to get too involved with the little greetings here and there; truly you didn’t want to be bothered on your free period. There was only one place you wanted to be, the library, a place where you could truly do whatever you wanted with little restriction.

The librarian, an old woman by the name of Mrs. Yang, never seemed to pay you any mind as you sat in the back corner reading a book or dabbling on your laptop. You had gained her respect by being the only student who visited the place on the day free books were being handed out. Unlike the other students who came for the extra credit promised by their teachers, you had came for the sole purpose of getting free books. The words free and books delighted you separately and together? Well it was your absolute dream.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Yang,” You greeted as you stepped into the always cold library.

“Ah good afternoon Miss Y/n.” She smiled and turned back to the book that was splayed across her desk, “How are you today?”

“I’m good Mrs. Yang, and you?” Truly you didn’t mind talking to this woman. She was always kind and never dragged on like most of the other older people you had talked to before.

She smiled, not picking her head up from her book, “I am just splendid, dear.”

You nodded in response and began to walked to your corner, which had beanbags and books piled around it, “That’s good to here, Mrs.”

“I take it you’ll be where you always are?”

“I have nowhere else to go, Mrs. Yang.” You joked though there was a lingering pang in your heart as you flopped down onto the antique bean bag. Since the beginning of your high school experience, you had been mainly alone. Sure you knew everyone, had occasional chatter with those around you, but ultimately, it was you and your books. Everyone else was too caught up in the idea of highschool; the parties, the people, the sweetly sick love- and you just couldn’t be apart of it. It’s not as if those things didn’t interest you, or that you didn’t want to try them out at least once, it was more that those types of things never seemed to come your way. Acquaintances never invited you out, class parties never seemed to really include anyone outside of that circle, and you didn’t talk to enough people often to feel any sort of strong attachment to them.

The thoughts just made you sink a little further into the dust ridden seat. You had at least another hour until you had your next class, maybe you could catch up on homework or read a book or something. A small huff of internal annoyance left your lips as you reached into your backpack, pulling out your laptop and headphones- deciding that watching that movie for Lit would be the best option.

Who knew The Great Gatsby would be so dreadfully emotional. Having only watched barley forty minutes of the movie, you knew the rest of the film was going to do you no good. At least the entire thing was interesting, as you would later have to begin a report of the differences and similarities of the movie and book. A boring lesson that you had done a hundred times prior. You took in a deep breath and went to press play again, the eyes of DiCaprio beginning to haunt you on the screen, when a voice interrupted your actions.

“Um, excuse me?” The voice was timid and you furrowed your brows before you looked up. In front of you was a boy who made you wish you had taken a deeper breath as all the air left your lungs. You had never seen him before, you were sure of it as no one else in your grade had such angelic features and ashy hair.

You forced yourself to remember how to breathe, “I-um yeah.. Yes?”

He chuckled a little at your ragged response, the noise akin to music, “The librarian told me to come talk to you, said you had out the only copy of Billy Elliot left.”

Of course a book would be the only reason a good looking stranger would talk to you, “Oh um, yeah, sorry. Do you need it right now?”

He shrugged a little, eyes wandering over your lazy form squished into the bean bag, “Just soon. I need it by break so that I can do the assignment.”

“It’s no problem, you can have it.” You said, reaching forward into your backpack. Billy Elliot had been an interesting book, and while you hadn’t entirely finished it, you didn’t have the heart to deny him it, “I’m almost done anyways and the ending was already spoiled-”

“Keep it.” He suddenly said and you couldn’t help but frown.

“I’m sorry? I-I thought you wanted to read it-” He waved his hand and you stopped your words.

“I want to make a deal with you instead?” His voice sounded unsure at the proposal, like he was still sifting through its agreements.

“A… a deal?”

He nodded his head, as if he agreed with your words. “Yeah a deal, you keep the book but I get to hang out here with you while I read it.”

The proposition made your face grow red, and you fumbled to find the right words for a second. “What.. W-Why in the world would you want to hang out here? And you don’t even know my name.”

“Yeah I do, the librarian told me it’s Y/n.” The cocky smirk made you roll your eyes.

“Okay fine, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Wooyoung, you could have just asked,” A small smile spread across his lips at how flustered you were, “So deal or no deal?”

“It’s a deal…”The words felt funny coming off of your lips, “i guess.”

“Sweet!” He cheered and flopped down in the bean bag adjacent to yours, his shoulder nudging against your own as he made himself comfortable. His proximity made a set of fresh nerves cloud your system. You hadn’t really been this close to anyone, much less a cute stranger, in a long time.

“Am i that exciting?” You turned your head slightly, just so you could see his head laying back lazily against the torn blue leather. The sight sent a weird, racing feeling into your stomach.

“You seem interesting Y/n, I mean your hanging out in a deserted library watching- is that Leonardo DiCaprio?” He eyes trailed from yours to Leo’s, the actor seeming to captivate the boy who couldn’t seem to keep his mind on track.

“You were saying, Wooyoung?” You smiled a little at his behavior. He was rather interesting.

He shook his head and forced himself to turn away from the screen, joyful eyes looking up to meet yours. “Oh yeah! You’re watching DiCaprio, slumped in a bean bag with literally no one around you. That makes you interesting to me.”

“Thanks.. I guess?” You laughed a little, having never been complimented as “interesting” by anyone before. It was all rather surreal and you couldn’t decide if you were dreaming; knowing how often you found yourself trapped between the world of books and ideas.

“It’s a compliment, I don’t find a lot of people interesting Y/n.” He smiled up at you and it seemed as though time stopped for a few seconds. An electric feeling coursed through you at the happiness he held in his toothy smile, especially since all of his emotions seemed directed towards you. That odd feeling in your stomach shocked you a little, leaving you tingling from head to toe. You were sure if you looked the hairs on your arms would have been standing straight up. It didn’t make sense, the feeling of excitement he gave you, it didn’t add up or match with any of the things you had read or learned. Maybe it wasn’t a thing you had learned yet, or seen in some book; no boyish smile could make your heart dance so fantastically.

And if it weren’t for the bell that snapped you from your thoughts, you might have realized what you felt was the beginning of the definition for love.

And damn, did that small kindle of love grow as you learned more about Wooyoung than just his name.

“Y/n!” The boy who made your heart race in funny ways yelled, bounding through the sea of students to get to your side. Ever since your initial meeting, you had noticed Wooyoung a lot more around campus and in your classes. Apparently you did have him in your history class as well as math; with him sitting in the back and you always in the front row. You had no idea how you had missed a boy like Wooyoung in your classes, but you just blamed it on the fact that you were never very observant of the people; focusing more on the material than anything.

Now though, you could never miss Wooyoung. In little less than a month of knowing him you could already spot his head in a crowd, his brash laughter amongst ceaseless chatter, and his voice in a loud room. It was odd how attached to him you were already, though the attachment was certainly not one sided.

“Hi Wooyoung,” You gave him a little smile as he slowed to a stop besides you, a giant grin on his face.

“Do you think you passed the math test?” His first words were breathless, but there was still that hint of enjoyment in eyes as nervousness seeped into his tone, “I sure don’t think I did. Might have to just pull some of my charms out on the teacher.”

You scoffed as you turned into the hallways that would lead to the main exit of the school, “You can’t seduce your math teacher to give you a better grade.”

“What? Don’t think a married man like Mr. Creed would like a fine ass person like myself?” He gestured to all of him and you rolled your eyes, fighting the stupid blush that always wanted to appear on your cheeks whenever he brought his features to the spotlight. Him and his dumb grin always made you feel such sparks across your skin.

“Truly his loss,” You sighed, playing into his fantasy, as you came to a stop on the main steps of your school, “but no, I don’t think you’ll be able to seduce a 60 year old man to change your C to a B.”

“Bummer, I really didn’t want to have to study.” He pouted and turned to you, smiling at the amusement that laced your eyes. Wooyoung was always just so fun to watch and listen to. You always found yourself giving him your full attention no matter the topic, for he always was just so animated in whatever he did.

You shook your head at his antics, “So what are you going to do instead of studying?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, ice cream.” He nodded and reached out to grab your wrist, the area exploding in a sensation of pricks and tingles, “How about it? I’ll even pay.”

You fought the feeling his light hold had on your hand, and mustered up a little smirk, “You had me at you’ll pay.”

“That’s the last thing I said!” He laughed but nonetheless began to tug you in the direction of whatever ice cream shop he dearly wanted. It wasn’t the first time Wooyoung had tried to drag you off on an after school adventure. The first time was only a week after you had met each other and he profusely whined that he had no one to go get pizza with, and you just couldn’t say no to his pout. You knew he had other friends, like the 12th grader Yunho and the 10th grader Jongho, yet he always made time for just you. A part of you wanted to feel touched that he always gave you the time of day and the other part told you that’s how friendships worked.

The shop was only a block from campus, it’s vibrant colors almost visible from the steps of school. You had only been here a few times before but you remembered how nice it was. The smell of sweets wafting through the interior and the pleasant songs reverberating against the walls. Wooyoung pulled you towards the door where a smiling ice cream cone was plastered against the glass.

“What kind of ice cream do you want?” He asked as he pulled you to stand in the little line that had formed. You were surprised this place wasn’t busier despite school being out.

“Um I don’t know?” You mumbled looking over the array of potential choices, “Everything looks good. Maybe just like vanilla or something though?”

“That’s pretty basic Y/n.”

“Oh I’m sorry what are you getting mr. exciting?”

“Strawberry but maybe cake batter, maybe both if I have enough money.” He grinned and pulled you in front of the case, to get your orders taken by the unhappy college student. You had ended up with something simple, mainly due to the fact that there was just too many flavors to choose from and you wanted more toppings than actual ice cream. Wooyoung, however, had gotten enough ice cream to feed a small family and enough toppings you weren’t sure what happened to all the dessert underneath it all.

“Don’t you think you went a little...overboard?” You pointed at the mountain of whip cream atop his dessert. You were sure you could see it swaying in the light breeze outside the shop.

Wooyoung chuckled a little and picked at the cream with his spoon, “Come on, they gave me a discount!”

“Cause you bought out half the supplies!” You argued, taking a bite of your own ice cream.

“Just means I’m a good customer,” He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

“Just means you don’t know how to spend your money.”

“Are you jealous of all the stuff I got?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down as he lifted up a spoon of pure whipped cream.

You huffed and looked down, swirling your plain vanilla with your spoon, “Nope, not at all.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“I am not-” You shook your head and looked up, only for a small handful of whip cream to come in contact with your eyes and nose. You let out a squeak at the sudden feeling and scrunched your face up at how cold it all was. And you knew your culprit immediately by the way his laugh resonated with your ears, “Wooyoung!”

He just continued laughing, loud and abashed, as you wiped away the mess from your eyes. You could see him, his head tilted back and his mouth wide open emitting a noise akin to music. There was such a light to him in that moment that you couldn’t help but begin to feel giddy as well. Usually you would have been pissed that someone had just thrown their food in your face, but you couldn’t be mad at Wooyoung. He was so happy about his harmless prank that it almost didn’t feel fair to take away the victory from him.

“Thanks a lot, Wooyoung,” You shook your head, fighting the smile on your face, as you tried to flick some of the whipped cream in his direction. And it worked, with the little cloud of white finding its mark on his nose and splattering across his cheeks. He let out a shrill shriek of surprise, no doubt startling others around you, as he stiffened up in his seat at the contact with the cold topping.

He pouted as he made contact with your sheepish eyes, “I guess I deserved that.”

“You think?” You laughed and he couldn’t help but mirror your actions until the both of you were but a mess of laughing teenagers, dessert toppings covering your face and happy tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. It had been awhile since you had laughed so heartily with someone, so purely, without a single care in the world.

Wooyoung was the first to settle down, “You’re a mess.”

You scoffed at his statement, “You’re not much better.” He grinned at the lazy retort and you felt time stop once again. The smile was radiant, like the sun above had kissed it with light. You knew Wooyoung had a pretty smile, you knew Wooyoung was pretty; but something about that moment felt so different. The way his lips twitched up in pure bliss, his eyes were alight with that life you yearned for, and his whole body seemed to exude a sense of joy that was hard to come by- it made you stop and wished you could have taken a picture. With the splatter of whipped cream coating his nose and cheeks, it was a moment of perfection and one that made your heart beat in unknown rhythm, made your stomach fumble with an emotion you weren’t sure of. All you knew was that you wanted to stay in this moment for a little longer.

Wooyoung’s smile softened a little as he stared at you, and he reached forward to hand you the array of napkins on the table, “Here.”

You gave him a faint smile as you took the napkins from him, to clean up the mess he had made of you externally, ignoring the tickling feeling that soared up your arms as you lightly made contact with his hand, “Thanks.”

But a couple of napkins couldn’t clean up the mess of your heart, your mind, your body- the mess of you he was making with his dumb smile, his pretty eyes, the life that surrounded him. The way he was making you feel so spectacular despite barley knowing him.

It wasn’t for a few more days that you got your answer to the feelings that seemed to only come out around him.

“Good morning class!” Mrs. Choi greeted as the bell rang and all the students shuffled into their seats. You had already been there minutes before the bell rang, glued to your seat in the back as you read through your previous lecture notes. Mrs. Choi was a great teacher yes, but Psychology was but a broad topic and you always had to review, “Today we will be switching gears from bad to good.”

“Bad to good?” A student from the front pipped up as Mrs. Choi flicked on the PowerPoint presentation, the colors on it a bright contrast to the rather monotone room.

“Yes from bad to good. We’ve been focusing on the negative reactions certain things have on the brain and body and I think we need to get into a little more light hearted topic before you all leave for break,” She reasoned and gestured to the display, which now read “positive emotions” in white bolded letters. “We’ve been talking a lot on how anger affects the body and how sadness can make you do incredible things-” She talked as she sat down on the table in the front, eyes scanning the room of students who were skillfully note taking, “-and now it’s time to talk about how good emotions affect the body, like happiness. Now, can anyone tell me something that would make them very happy?”

“Winning the lottery?”

“Money?”

“My family?”

Mrs Choi nodded along at the suggestions, “While some of your ideas of things that cause happiness are very.. Material, substantial things such as people or life achievements cause a great deal of happiness.”

“So like passing a test you studied for or coming in first for something?” Mrs. Choi gave a nod at the question.

“Yes, with things like that we are much more susceptible to long term happiness rather than with things such as the lottery or money. Could anyone give me a noun, and technically a verb, that many humans consider holding a lot of happiness?” You frowned at her crude question as well as the rest of the class. There were too many things that could cause a lot of happiness, and that would probably have to do with the perspective of the person in question as well.

“You all are looking at me like you’ve never experienced this!” She laughed and changed the slide, pointing to the one word in the center, “Love is what many consider to be the peak of happiness. I’m sure many of you have experienced such a thing once in your life.” Your eyebrows furrowed as her knowing smile. Sure, you knew you were loved and you were loved by some, but you weren’t sure you would have considered that peak happiness. You felt happier that day at the ice cream shop with Wooyoung, than you did when you were around your parents most of the time.

Mrs. Choi smiled at the students giving her funny looks, “I know what you all are thinking, I’m not incredibly happy with my parents? My siblings don’t give me that peak feeling of happiness? Mrs. Choi you’ve lost your mind!” She stood up from her spot on the table and began to walk around as she talked, “It’s good that your mind first went to your parents and family members; however, that’s not the type of love I was initially talking about. The Ancient Greeks had love separated by family, romance, friendship and the love for humans. We call these storge, eros, philia, and agape respectively. The one that tends to invoke the highest feeling of happiness is Eros, the feeling of romantic love.” Her words settled with you oddly as you wrote it down without question, “Eros is the feeling most of you will experience in full during your years here. How many of you have feelings you can’t explain when you’re around someone? That sinking in your stomach? The flutter of her heart? The joyous feeling you get when around that one person”

You couldn’t help but gulp when she spoke. She was asking all the questions you had been asking yourself. “These feelings have multiple meanings, yes, but they all have one distinct connection-” Your phone buzzed quietly on your desk, and you looked over to see Wooyoung’s silly contact picture hovering above the meme he had just sent you. A small smile made it’s way onto your face, and that fluttering feeling sank into your bones, as you turned back into your teachers words. “-They all have a distinct connection, and that connection is love.”

It was as if a jolt had gone through you, casted straight from the heavens above as her words went through your head. Love. It made your stomach sink… it made your heart flutter… it's what made you feel so giddy. The pieces seemed to fall into place as you looked down at the profile picture on your lockscreen, the name seeming to ring in your ears without even haven been spoken, and you swallowed thickly at the realization.

Wooyoung made you feel all the things connected to love.

You were in love with Wooyoung.

“Most of the time we do not realize it until odd, simple moments. Yet, such love has the greatest effect on our minds and bodies.” Mrs. Choi’s voice lingered in your head as you continued to gape down at your phone, heart now beating wildly at the realization that set your bones on fire, “Love is but a very funny thing.”

Love was but a funny thing indeed.

A thing that made your heart race and your breathing become erratic as the bell rang signalling lunch. Everyone in your class rushed to the door but you took your time to pack up, trying to calm yourself from the inside out. Now that you had a title for all the emotions and feelings, everything made so much more sense. You just didn’t think the realization of such a pure thing would make you have trouble breathing.

You stumbled out of the classroom door and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t see Wooyoung right outside of the door. At least you were granted a few moments to get your heartbeat back to normal. You slowly began to walk towards the library, praying to whatever Gods above that the knots in your stomach would go away before you reached your little corner. There was no doubt in your mind that Wooyoung would already be there, with snacks for the both of you, sitting on the bean bags in the back corner that no one ever bothered.

And you were right, noticing as soon as you walked through the library’s doors, that Wooyoung was stretched out across to bean bags, his phone high in the air above him. No doubt he was scouting out the latest meme or TikTok, a thing he had failed to try and get you into. You walked over to him trying your best to project a facade of normality, especially as he turned and flashed you that bright smile you had come to adore.

“Y/n! Did you get that meme I sent you?” He said sitting up so that you could sit on the second chair that he was previously lounging on.

You took your spot with a small smile, doing your best to not show any other emotions except mild amusement, “Of course. It almost got me in trouble in Psyc.”

Wooyoung gave a little chuckle but there was a glint that came into his eyes at your words and it worried you, “Mrs. Choi didn’t take your phone?”

“She loves me too much to do that,” You rolled your eyes but at the mention of that damned word your heart sped up erratically again, your stomach knotted and your ears roared. The close proximity between you and Wooyoung became all too prominent and you flopped back into the seat, hoping maybe the jolt would shock your body enough to stop the feelings that had ahold of you.

Wooyoung raised an eye at your behavior as he sunk into the seat next you, head tilted so he could stare at your face. Even if the pair of you had only been close friends for a month, he could read you like an open book. He knew the second you walked into the library that something was bothering you; with the way your lips were in a tight line and your left hand was shaking uncharacteristically. He knew you were bad at hiding your emotions despite what you and others believed.

“I’m sure she did,” His voice dropped in volume and you closed your eyes to resist looking over at him, knowing that that intoxicating feeling would overtake you again. You hadn’t decided if you liked it, the tingling and the sparks, even if they always followed you around when you were with one of your favorite things. You just couldn’t really believe you had fallen in love and you didn’t know if you wanted any of the repercussions that came with it.

“Y/n.” Wooyoung’s voice finally registered in your mind and you nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong.” He said it like no question and you refrained from sighing. Of course Wooyoung would know something was up immediately.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed and turned on his side, giving you his full attention and you couldn’t help but glance over to his captivating eyes. They were entirely full of worry, “Don’t lie to me Y/n… just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just… I learned something today,” You managed, tearing your eyes away from his as he cocked his head to the side. There was a roaring in your ears as you spoke and a sinking in your gut; but something wanted you to just tell him your epiphany. A part of you wanted to sing it to the world and it took every ounce of willpower not to just say it. You knew, internally, you just wanted to say it. Maybe than the dumb butterflies would leave your stomach.

“You seem pretty shook about it? What’d you learn about? A war or something?” He continually questioned and leaned his head down, hair brushing against your shoulder and your lips tightened into a straight line at the tingling contact.

“No… um it’s a.. It's something about myself.” You stuttered out, eyes wandering to your fingers in your lap, running your fingertips over your nails to try and ease your nervousness. You could feel your body tightening, in your back, in your arms and legs, all due to this odd stress that had been thrown upon your body as soon as Wooyoung laid his head against your shoulder.

“What is it than?” You could feel his breath against you shoulder as he pulled your hands away from one another, fearful you would somehow find a way to rip off your own finger. He had never seen you so fidgety, so nervous; and he had been with you the day you had a giant history presentation.

The way his fingers curled around you hand softly made your mind draw a blank, as your stupid heartbeat picked up into a sprint. You could only focus on the way his thumb softly drew circled on your knuckles, a thing you had told him you did to calm yourself down. You watched him, drawing shapes on the back of your hand gently, and spoke the first cohesive sentence you could form. “In psych they… we were talking about that feeling of butterflies... and electric jolts and such...and how… how i-it can mean your in love.”

He laughed a little and squeezed your hand in his own, that once unknown feeling encompassing your figure tenfold, as his words came out in a coy tone, “How’s that a bad thing?”

“Because I feel it all when i’m around you.”

You just had to say it. Maybe it was the way his tone made you jolt with energy or how carefully he caressed the skin of your hand. Maybe it was just the fact that with every second your mind kept screaming to tell him everything. It was the fact that all your nervousness seemed to fade, the stress that was weighing on your body, all faded into background noise at your words and you felt so much better.

Wooyoung’s quiet laughter made you furrow your brows in confusion, especially as he spoke in a light hearted tone, “Your confession was a lot more poetic than mine was going to be.”

“What?” You were thoroughly dumbstruck at his words and you could feel his smile grow against your shoulder.

“I was going to tell you today too, but it was going to be through some dumb meme… i’m glad i waited.”

“Wait.. you.. You...me?” You stuttered, getting frustrated with your brain as you tried to form an understandable sentence.

Wooyoung just laughed and lifted up a little, so you two could make eye contact as he spoke, a new seriousness in his gaze,  “I get those same, stupid butterflies when I’m around you too, Y/n.”

You could only stare at him as you croaked out, wonder-struck by the whole situation, “When?”

He smiled at you, a whole other look of fondness on his face, “Our little ice cream date. Not just anyone will let me pelt them with dessert toppings and let me live.”

“Dumbass,” You mumbled but a little grin grew on your face, as well as a blush as you pulled up your hands to cover your face. Wooyoung reluctantly let go of your hand and instead watched as color rushed to your face, and he could tell it was due to excitement rather than embarrassment.

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, a new sense of confidence taking hold of him, and brushed down your hand so you could see his smiling face, “Yeah, but I want to be your dumbass.”

“My dumbass?” You voice was quiet and questioning, because you couldn’t believe the way his smile was making you giddy or how you really just wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Or the major fact that he wanted to be with you. You believe that was the real reason to why you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

He laughed, hot breath fanning against your face, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Yeah, your dumbass. So… is it gonna be a yes or no?”

A smile grew on your face, as his fingers trailed over your skin leaving a trail tingling sensations, “Yeah…. Yes you can be my dumbass.”

For once in your life, Wooyoung looked bashful at your acceptance. A timid smile grew on his lips as he retracted his hand from your face and moved it to encase your own, fingers intertwining almost like it was second nature for them. His voice was wavering a little as a spoke, “Can.. can we finish up that Billy Elliot movie?”

“That’s the question you ask next?” You laughed a little and leaned back into your seat, training your eyes to take in all that was Wooyoung. His ashy hair always styled neatly, a smile that left you feeling woozy, and eyes alight with a life that made you want to stare at them all day. Adding all of his physical features with his personality; one of childlike playfulness and a caring only found in the most compassionate people, it made sense. It was no surprise, you thought as you looked at him taking in the curve of his shy smile, that every little thing he did made your heart race, your stomach knot, and your bones alight with a newfound sensation. You smiled a little at his new timid nature and squeezed his hand a little tighter, enjoying the feeling, “But yeah… we definitely can.”

You now knew the definition of love.

And it was everything Wooyoung was.

[alex-baebae]

Pieces of honor

Chapter 3

Many guys have been knocked out. I don’t know what time it is. “Choi vs Li” the announcement for him “good luck” I tell him smiling, he smiles me back. The fight between them was rough but Seunghyun seemed to be the one who was controlling the situation, suddenly his opponent fell.

That was the first day of the exam, now we are in a special formation. They will give us new instructions in no time, I was next to Seunghyun. “So tomorrow, you will fight with the guys next to you, only the half will be here, you can leave now”. Seunghyun looks at me immediately trying to say something, I just put my hand on his arm “let’s go” I say walking towards our car.

...

“Ahj” Seunghyun complains “it hurts” I chuckle “of course it hurts! My lovely child look what they have done to you!” Miss Liu exclaims angry. We are sitting on the big couch of the Mansion's living room, I keep cleaning my face by myself “my little princess, I can do that” she says worried about my reddish face (you know there is blood mixed with ethyl alcohol) “no, I can do it Miss Liu… better help Seunghyun, he cannot reach his back” I try to smile with my broken lips.

12pm… I’m about to go to the bed “fuck that guy really punched me hard” I say looking at my face through the big mirror on my wall, someone knocks the door. I open it “Seunghyun” I whisper, he enters quickly.

“What are you doing here? You have to rest” I give him a non-sense look “not gonna fight you tommorow” he looks into my eyes locking the door behind him “you have to! I mean we have to!” he says nothing “I don’t want to, but we have to” I add. Then I sit on my bed “but, I can’t… I… I just cannot do anything in order to hurt you” he explains “Seunghyun you know how this works, you cannot change the rules” I say before looking down thinking about my next steps “I’ll renounce then, I cannot let you do such a thing” I say firmly “but your father, your mother what about them?” he says kneeling next to me “I’ll have more opportunities but you…” he interrupts me “you’ll dishonor them”.

I want so badly to have Seunghyun by side, this is the only way… it doesn’t matter what my parents say, after all, he is the only one who I feel less miserable with.

As I told you first, I have confidence problems since I was a child, plus now that I’m an adult for my parents.... I know all the things they do for money… I just can’t carry on by myself. I need someone, maybe I’m depressed.

“Seunghyun, better leave, someone can hear us” I say trying to escape from making decisions “how many times have we been doing this? We haven’t gotten caught” he insists to be here, I can’t think well. “Sorry” is all I can say, he smiles and caress my cheeks “I have to tell you something important” he says now holding my hands “I’m...” he’s hesitating “I can’t fight you tomorrow because... I’m so fucking in love with you”.

I'm surprised as hell. I mean, it's not like I had not feelings for him, but I have been forcing myself to see him as a friend. I was worried to show him my feelings, he could reject me and I would be alone again, I don’t want to be alone as I have told you.

"I shouldn't have told you that" he says, I'm still quiet "I'm leaving" he walks towards my dorm's door "where do you go?" I shut the door which was been barely open by him, I kiss him, he holds me and returns the kiss.

"Ouch!" My lips hurt, again some blood is on them "sorry, I was so excited" he is nervous as hell "sleep with me" I asked him kissing his jaw "N-no, someone can hear us" he has his hands over my waist "so, are you afraid of it?" I tease him a little "yes, your father will tear me up in seconds" I laugh "come on! He will not do it" I kiss again the both sides of his jaws "I'm not afraid of what he could do to me, but surely I will not be able to see you again" I kiss this time his lips.

"Do to really are scared of that?" he lifts me "of course" he peppers kisses all over my neck "I have been in love so much time that, I cannot be away from you anymore" he adds "neither" I whisper.

"Then let's sleep at your place" I suggest "at my...?" He seems confused "if someone see us they'll think that I was the one looking for your love, not vice versa" he chuckles "please" I hug him tighter "my bed is not comfortable" he says "I don't mind" I say "I must leave now, see you tomorrow... My beloved one" he kisses my forehead.

I let him leave, as soon as I hear his door being closed, I walk towards my window, his dorm is not so far. I climb quickly and I get into his room, he was laying down, his eyes closed "someone could have killed you" I comment.

I don't let him respond, I attack his lips before he can even open his eyes "you are stubborn as a mule" he says between the wet kisses, he places his hands over my waist, his thumbs caressing my skin.

"I bet you like it" kisses again, now his hands touching all over my back, he reaches my neck and holds it to make me be closer to him "yeah, I didn't locked the door, but you surprised me as always" we smash or lips again, a small taste of iron is in our mouths I guess my lips are bleeding

"Let's stop, your lips are going to be all red in the morning" I smile "don't want to" I remove his shirt, he only smiles like me "have you.... Did this with another person?" He's nervous I can notice it "have I had time?" I remove my shirt, I have no bra on, he immediately blushes "no".

That was true, I mean we have been together almost 24/7 all the highschool. We assisted to the same school, sometimes the same classes, we did our homework together, the same basketball club, and my mom's trainings after school... Well we hadn't any time for 'love'.

"Well... Let's just follow the 'instructions' of our bodies" I kissed him again "I have read about this and you know...maybe you have too" while he's speaking, I took his pants off. "Let me take care of you this time" he added "you are the most injured of the both of us" I chuckle "then, do what you want".

I sit in front of him, my legs are spread, he’s closer and closer. He kisses all my body while I touch my clit as when I’m alone pleasing me, he sucks my breasts as I moan with every single touch if his hands. I lay on his bed, he climbs onto me kissing my shoulders "you're so beautiful" he whispers in my ear before he licks my earlobe "Seunghyun" I caress his back with my both hands and his legs with my feet.

He takes off my underwear, he kisses around my wetness, suddenly he licks from down to up my pussy "Seunghyun" I moan his name again, he keeps licking me with his warm tongue, I'm getting wetter. Suddenly he sucks hard my clit causing me to lift my hips to increase the contact of his mouth to my skin.

"Maybe you will like this" he turns me around, now I'm on my knees. My legs wide spread for him, he starts to eat me out again, more moans come from my throat, my legs quiver.

Seunghyun puts a finger inside me "does it hurt?" His fingers are bigger than mine I can feel it well, my pussy tights around his index finger asking for more stimuli "it feels good" he puts another one, of course it stretches me more than my two fingers I used to put in when I was needy "give me a second" I say. It hurts only a little but I want to give time to my muscles to enjoy it more. Meanwhile he’s licking my butthole and touching my clit waiting for my instructions.

I move my hips thrusting me with his fingers, he instantaneously moves them rapidly "oh, that's great" I encourage him to don't stop. "Fuck you taste so well" he turns me around again I keep my legs spread, he's intense glance is on me, he makes eye contact and sucks his fingers looking at me all the time.

Maybe he is lying, maybe he had done this with other girls and I don't blame him because some days I wanted to do it as well. He is now between my legs "can I?" I smile, I have done it with dildos, and vibrators but not with a man. So the confidence I had before starts to disappear "sure" he moved a little "is it inside?" he asked me "no it is not" I smile "shit I believed I did it correctly" I laugh now.

"You seemed to be experienced" he laughs as well "I told you that I haven't done this before" he kisses my cheek "so where have you learn what you did before" I asked curious "one day you left open an article about how to masturbate on your laptop and... you know I remember well many things" my face is all red, fortunately the light of the garden only barely illuminated us.

"Then in that web site was another article about how to masturbate a woman, and I read it of course" I laugh hard "really?" I ask "yes, I thought you liked that page a lot because there were many tabs of them opened" l kiss him "so, you have been planning to fuck with me all this time, haven't you mister Seunghyun?" he gets embarrassed "maybe..." he laughs "to tell the truth, I thought that if someday I could have this opportunity... I wanted to make you feel good".

I took his sex in my hands "wanna know what I've learned in that articles?" I joke, he chuckles "next time, baby" he puts my hands asides my head. He takes his member to be sure this time he's going to not fail, he enters slowly I moan "are you alright?" He asks me worried "yes" he goes deeper "ugh!" I moan grabbing his shoulders "I'll stop" he says. I put my legs around his waist. "No, I guess my dildos are not this big". When I was buying my toys on line, I was worried of insert big shit in me, I guess that fear is normal, so I bought the slender and smaller ones.

Seunghyun gets more embarrassed and laughs "well, that's new" he comments "hey, try to move now" I ask, he did as I said, one of his hands reaches my clit, I soon start to feel nice. Our bodies are sweating, our breaths are crashing into each other's skin, soon I felt my orgasm being built, his name is all I'm able to say...

More updates, I will always love y'all!! ❤️

I'm busy, university is getting more difficult. However I'll do my best to update in less time 💞

Love,

Alex

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

My birthday is May 16. I would love a fic that features Age!Gap Everlark with Katniss 5 - 10 years older than Peeta. M or E rating. Thanks for running this fabulous web site.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, @ldyglfr62! Your gift - the penultimate offering from everlarkbirthdaydrabbles, was written just for you by @xerxia31. We hope you enjoy!

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

rated M, for language and adult situations.

It’s not completely unexpected, but it’s still a shock to see it. Thick, expensive card stock, pale pink with roses and their names embossed in gold.

Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne, along with their families, request the honour of your presence at their wedding…

I’m happy for them, I truly am. I’m just still kind of shocked that after nine years together, it took Gale less than three months to marry my replacement.

It’s not like I thought Gale and I would ever marry each other, even if our friends all expected it. And our breakup was completely mutual. But that he moved on so fast is kind of a slap.

“You should go on vacation,” Prim says when I phone to tell her the news. “That way, you can skip the wedding without looking like a jerk.” Trust Prim to cut right to it. Because she’s right; even though Gale is my oldest friend, I’d rather rip out my intestines with a fork than watch him marry the woman of his dreams while all of our mutual friends look at me with pity.

“I can’t go sit on a beach somewhere by myself,” I groan. “That’s even more loser-ish than going to my ex’s wedding stag.” But the wheels are turning. I do need to get away, and not just from the wedding. I could use a break from my entire pathetic life. “Maybe I could go see Effie?” I mumble. My late mother grew up in Ireland, she moved to America before I was born to marry my father. Her sister still lives near Dublin, and is always asking me to come see her. It’s been a long time since my last visit.

A fabulous deal on the flight seals it. Since I’m a freelancer, there’s no one to arrange vacation time with. I can work from anywhere that there’s an internet connection. My neighbour agrees to check my mailbox periodically, and my friends all understand.

o-o-o

I arrange to stay six weeks with Effie. The first week passes in a haze of jetlag, lumpy pillows, and daily afternoon tea on her garden-gnome-and-flower-strewn patio. It’s calm, quiet.

Since I’ll be gone over my birthday, Prim insists on paying for a week-long bus tour of the Scottish Highlands for me, both as a birthday gift, and as a break from my aunt. “Better not be one of those singles tours,” I grumble as she details everything over Skype while I sit in Effie’s formal living room, surrounded by creepy porcelain dolls, a pair of lace doilies protecting her mahogany table from my computer. Prim’s in med school in Seattle, I haven’t seen her since Christmas, and I think she feels guilty about not having been there for me - in person - when Gale and I broke up, no matter how many times I tell her that I’m fine about it. But since Effie is already driving me crazy, I don’t put up much of a fight.

“Do those exist?” she asks, and on my shitty laptop screen she looks pensive. I can tell she’s wishing she’d thought of looking for one. “Wild and Sexy Tours. Huh. I wonder if I can change it…” She starts clicking away on her keyboard and I balk.

“No, geez Prim, this is fine, great really.” The website she’s linked me to shows small tour buses, catering mostly to elderly vacationers. Just my speed.

“Have you met anyone over there yet?”

“Sure, Effie’s friend with the strange beard came by for cocktails yesterday.” Prim’s face screws up.

“That’s not what I mean, Katniss. Have you been out to the pubs at all? Or gone to a rugby match?” At my shrug, she groans. “Dammit, you’re too young to be spending your time holed up with Effie’s antiques. You need to get out there, meet people, date.”

“I’m not really ready for that,” I tell her, and I can see by the way her expression changes to pity that she thinks I’m still hung up on Gale. I don’t bother correcting her. Gale and I should never have been more than friends, we both knew it, but being together was easy, like a comfortable pair of jeans. I’m not in love with him, I really never was. But I’m not anxious to put myself out there just yet. Or maybe ever. Because Gale’s the only guy I’ve ever been with. At not-quite twenty-seven, I have no experience dating at all.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to some of your tour mates at least,” she says sadly. And I promise, because I can never tell my sweet sister no.

o-o-o

Edinburgh is a confusing mess of streets and hills and hilly streets and more freaking hills, and by the time I find my way to Waterloo Place, where I’m supposed to catch the bus tour, I’m late and in a panic. When I see the little red bus still at the stop, I’m almost weak-kneed with relief.

“‘Bout time you showed up, Sweetheart,” the driver grumbles, grabbing my backpack and tossing it unceremoniously into the back. I climb on board, and my heart sinks. I’m too late to have gotten one of the single seats, and am now going to be stuck sharing. There are only two empty seats, one on the bench in the very back, between a young woman with spiky hair and a serious case of bitch face and a man who might be a professional football player; the other right behind the driver, next to a startlingly handsome man, who glances up at me through a mop of ashy blond waves, and smiles shyly.

I hope Blondie isn’t a talker.

o-o-o

Blondie is a talker.

His name is Peeta Mellark, and he fills the first hour of our drive north with mostly one-sided conversation. But I find I don’t mind all that much. He’s Irish, from a village on the Irish sea, and his gently lilting accent is much nicer to listen to than the rough Scottish burr that our driver barks as he points out one thing or another along the route.

“You know a lot about Scotland,” I finally say.

Peeta smiles wistfully. “My da used to bring me here, when I was small. We’d walk the hills and sleep in the heather.”

“How long has he been gone?” Peeta lifts an eyebrow, but I know I’m right. I recognize the look in his eyes. It’s the same expression I wear when I think about my own father, whose death when I was just a kid marked the beginning of the end of my idyllic childhood.

“I was seventeen when he passed,” he says quietly.

“You miss him.” It’s not a question, I can see in Peeta’s eyes. He nods. But any further discussion is cut off by our first stop on the tour.

Though it’s a bus tour, it turns out to be a fairly active one. We make multiple stops all along the route to the Highlands, exploring an ancient cathedral, touring a distillery, even visiting a heritage village. And as what appears to be the only two people travelling alone on the tour, Peeta and I end up spending most of the day together.

It’s… nice. He’s sweet and interesting, and it’s refreshing to talk with someone my own age.

When we arrive at Inverness, our stop for the night, I realize that Peeta and I have been assigned to the same bed and breakfast, along with the linebacker, whose name is Thresh,  his girlfriend Rue, and our driver, Haymitch. That’s going to make keeping to myself that much more difficult, I realize. Then Haymitch arranges for the whole group to eat together at a pub on the river. I want to say no, that I’m too tired or some other excuse, but somehow I get sucked along anyway.

I hate being forced into group situations, but Peeta, seeming to sense my unease, sits beside me and acts as a bit of a buffer between me and the throng, not speaking for me, but deflecting attention when I get overwhelmed.

And it’s compelling to watch him interact with the others. He’s so friendly and well-spoken, so intelligent and insightful, easily moving between discussing the differences between American football and Gaelic rugby with Thresh, and the impact of Brexit on tourism in the Republic with the South African lawyer seated at the next table.

And though I promised myself that I wouldn’t think about Gale, it’s impossible not to compare him with Peeta. Gale has always been sort of closed minded; conversation with Gale is only possible on the narrow range of topics he cares about, and generally involves either a recitation of his opinions with no room for dissent, or a re-living of his glory days. But Peeta is so thoughtful, I watch him absorb and consider everyone’s viewpoints, watch his reflect back intelligent discourse in a way that feels engaging and exciting, not like a firestorm. I can’t help thinking that maybe Prim is right. Maybe I do need to spend time with people my own age instead of feeling like I’m still stuck in highschool with Gale.

o-o-o

The sun rises ridiculously early in Inverness, and the curtains in my room are barely translucent. By five-thirty, I’ve given up on sleep entirely, and decide to sneak down to the common lounge, where the wifi signal is better.

I’m surprised to find I’m not alone. Peeta is already there, dressed for the day and facing the large plate glass window, beyond which the sky is streaked in pink and amber. He doesn’t hear me at first, and I can see in the reflection that his usual easy expression has been replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I decide to steal away, to leave him to his musings, but he catches the motion and turns, the faraway expression resolving into a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. “Good morning, Katniss,” he says.

“What are you doing up so early?” I ask. There’s an empty teacup on the windowsill, he’s clearly been here awhile.

“I’m a baker,” he laughs. “I’m used to the pre-dawn wake-ups.” I grin, I heard him mentioning his business over dinner, and I’m curious about it.

He makes me a cup of tea, and another for himself, and as we sit together in the early morning hush he tells me about the bakery he owns in the tiny coastal village where his family has lived for generations. The picture he paints of his bucolic life there makes me ache, my own empty, tetherless existence in sharp contrast to his certainty. It makes me realize how stunted my growth has been, having wasted all of that time with Gale. Playing things safe instead of living.

I’m ready to live.

o-o-o

Our tour guide, Haymitch, is gruff and grouchy, but he seems to know all of the hidden gems of Scotland. As we head to the Isle of Skye, he makes frequent stops to walk nature trails with stunning waterfalls, to show us multiple off-the-beaten-path lookout points, and we even spend a glorious hour searching for shells on a Carribean-blue beach. But in the mid afternoon, the bus starts to make a strange noise. And as we pull into our next stop on the itinerary - the enchanted-sounding Fairy Glen - it comes to a shuddering halt.

“Ah shit,” Haymitch grumbles.

“Well,” Peeta murmurs in my ear. “There are worse places to get stuck.”

He’s right, this place is utter magic. As a group, we explore the strange rolling hills and mini lochs of the glen, walking the concentric rings and pressing coins into cracks in cave walls. Peeta is half mountain goat, I swear, practically jogging up the steep hills, gently teasing me as I lag behind. My laughter, unfamiliar but free, echoes all around.  

And eventually, Peeta and I end up in a little meadow-like depression at the bottom of one of the hills. I haven’t felt so free since I was a kid. I’d love nothing more than to lie in the grass and watch the clouds float by; when I say so, Peeta pulls off his sweater and spreads it on the ground, tugging me down to lie beside him, my head pillowed on his arm.

I must drift off because the next thing I know, the patchy blue sky has clouded over completely, and Peeta is sitting beside me.

“Peeta, you should have woken me,” I say, rubbing the sleep crud out of my eyes.

“For what? Nothing’s going on here,” he says. “Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin. “I’m kidding,” he laughs. “You’re beautiful, scowling or not.”

Something flutters in my chest, but I push it away. I don’t have room for that in my life. Instead, I nod towards the notepad in his hands. “What’s that?”

He tilts the paper towards me. It’s not writing, like I’d assumed, but a drawing. A sketch of a sleeping girl. My breath catches at the image on the paper. It’s me, clearly, and the talent in the pencil lines is mind-blowing. But it’s more than that. The girl in the picture looks softer, calmer, like all of her worries have been cast away. Peaceful. No, not peaceful… content. I haven’t been that girl in a long time. “This is incredible, Peeta,” I whisper.

“I have an eye for beauty,” he says, and it should sound cocky, like a come-on line. But from him, with those earnest blue eyes smiling, it just doesn’t.

Haymitch comes stomping into the clearing, greasy handprints marring his kilt. “Bus is fixed, git your arses on it,” he grunts.

Peeta gathers his sweater and notepad, and we trudge back to the bus. The tour continues in near silence, but it’s a good quiet. A comfortable quiet. Peeta wraps his arm around my shoulder and I find myself leaning into him as he strokes my hair. It’s uncomplicated and intimate. And though I’ve never been a cuddly person, I love it.

Our last stop is a trail that winds around a glassy Loch. The whole group is subdued, introspective maybe. Or maybe just hungry. Peeta and I lag behind though, enjoying the calm.

We emerge from the cover of the trees into a patch of yellow flowers, glowing in the sunlight. “Gorse,” Peeta answers my unasked question. “It’s everywhere at home too.”

“They smell fantastic,” I sigh. “Coconutty. Like the beach.” He chuckles, but when I reach for the golden flowers, he grabs my hand. I scowl.

“Thorns,” he says, delicately moving the blooms aside to show me that what I thought were flat leaves or needles are actually sharp spines. “Beautiful on the outside, but nasty underneath.”

“Just like me,” I say absently, but his brow wrinkles.

“No, Katniss,” he says. “You’re not like the gorse. You’re a bluebell.” I roll my eyes, but he continues, so earnestly. “Bluebells are shy, unassuming. Most people hardly notice them.” He leads me with a gentle hand on my lower back to the shady part of the hill. Only when he points them out do I realize the bluebells are in full bloom here. “But they’re strong and resilient, stubborn even. And once you see them, you can’t tear your eyes away from their beauty.” I turn to face him, but his hand doesn’t fall away, shifting instead to trace circles on my hipbone.

I want to scoff, to dismiss his words as the polished pick up lines of a player. But I can’t. As I stare at him, utterly speechless, he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I lean into his touch, and he smiles, just the barest lift of his lips. Sweet and hopeful. Before I can even consider what a terrible idea it is, I lift up on my toes and kiss him.

It’s a gentle kiss, but the desire that flares in my gut from that brief touch is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I haven’t kissed a lot of guys in my life, a handful back in highschool, only Gale after that. But no kiss has ever before felt so electric. I need more.

It’s clear he agrees, because almost as soon as I press my lips to his again, he takes control, one huge hand cupping my cheek, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. Exploring me thoroughly. I can’t hold back the little noises that escape me, and he groans softly in response.

I lose all sense of time and place, gripping his shirt, kissing him with a passion I wasn’t certain I was even capable of. It’s only when I hear the rest of the group heading down the path towards us that I pull away, reluctantly.

Peeta’s eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded, pupils fat. “I have wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he whispers.

We don’t talk about the kiss, but for the rest of the day Peeta holds my hand. Even through dinner at a quiet little restaurant right on the harbour, he plays with my fingers, looking at me with something like adoration.

When we get back to our B&B I’m not ready for the evening to end. But there are other guests in the common lounge, playing a raucous game of cards. “Would you like to come to my room?” I ask, then immediately feel heat climbing up my cheeks. “Just, uh, just to talk a while longer.” I can’t meet his eyes. I’m incapable of flirting, or of communicating at all, really. Yet he follows me unquestioningly.

We sit side by side on my bed, talking. But there’s a tension between us that wasn’t there before, a crackling awareness. I don’t even know who makes the first move, but one minute we’re talking, the next I’m sucking on his tongue and his arms are pressing me tightly to him.

Kissing Peeta here in my quiet room is even better than on the nature trail. Free from distractions, I can let my hands wander, trace the firm musculature of his shoulders and arms, feel the pull and flex of his back. He unravels my braid and runs his fingers through the locks. “Beautiful,” he whispers against my lips.

We kiss and caress, hands becoming more bold. It’s when he lays me back on my bed, the hard length of his body cradled by my own, that I begin to panic. “Peeta,” I start. “I really like you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at my face. Then he smiles fondly. “But you’re not ready,” he says, and I’m shocked that he anticipated my words. “I know,” he says, and there’s no anger, he doesn’t even look disappointed. “We won’t do anything that you don’t want to,” he promises.

“Could we keep kissing?” I sound all of thirteen, pathetic and immature. But he doesn’t laugh at me.

“I’d like that,” he says.

We kiss and touch, chastely, fingers on napes and cheeks, tangled in hair. Making out like teenagers. Like the teenager I never really was. And eventually we fall asleep wrapped around each other.

o-o-o

I expect the morning to be awkward, but it isn’t. It isn’t at all. When I wake up, he’s still there, lying beside me, awake and smiling contentedly. He kisses me, just lightly, before retreating to his own room to get ready for the day.

We tour two different castle ruins, climb down (and back up) a gorge, and check out dinosaur fossils. He’s gently affectionate through it all, holding my hand, kissing my cheek, but never demanding anything else.

But I tug him into my room and my bed again that evening. And again he kisses me to sleep.

o-o-o

Gale’s wedding day falls on the fourth day of the tour. I’m cranky, and Peeta notices. He asks me what’s wrong but I brush him off. But even in the face of my moodiness, my pique and my - as Haymitch says - ‘slug-like charm’, Peeta is patient with me. Willing to take whatever little bits of myself I offer. And it’s that acceptance that prompts me to open up to him. In fits and starts over the course of the day as we walk and tour and explore, I tell Peeta about Gale, about the wasted years, about the holding pattern I’ve been in since we split.

He listens attentively, neither judging nor offering platitudes. But his quiet support means the world to me. “Do you still love him?” he asks as we sit on the dock in a quiet harbour town, watching the seabirds circle and dive.

“I never did,” I confess. “But after so long, I don’t know how to move on.”

When we return to the B&B, I again tug Peeta into my room. But this time I know something has shifted between us. Our sweet, chaste kisses rapidly escalate. And though Peeta tries to slow us down, tries to be a gentleman, I want more. And after a few attempts, he gives up on the idea of reining us in, surrendering to my demands and my searching fingers.

Our clothes fall away, until I’m down to my bra and underwear, and he’s only in shorts. He stares at me in awe, as if I’m something exotic instead of plain Katniss Everdeen, far too bony and wearing threadbare panties. And though I’ve only ever been naked in front of one man before now, I don’t hesitate to reach behind me to unhook my bra. But Peeta stills my hands. “Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to…”

“I want to,” I tell him.

When the cotton falls away, he shudders. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “You have no idea, the effect you have.”

“Show me,” I whisper. And he does. In his arms, I get what might be my first taste of real, raw passion. Sex with Gale was fine, good sometimes. But never like this. As I shatter, and shatter, and shatter again, everything I think I know about myself is turned inside out, and I am changed forever.

It’s fucking terrifying.

o-o-o

The last day of our tour is quiet, too quiet. The weather is unsettled, the group members tired. Even Haymitch has lost his sarcastic edge. Leaves me too much time to think about Peeta, sitting next to me. Playing with my fingers and humming in contentment. Too much time to panic.

How can I say goodbye to this man? This man who has opened my eyes and my heart, who has shown me the barest hint of a life I never even knew I was missing out on.

What choice do I have?

It’s pouring rain when we pull into the stop at Waterloo Place, and in the soggy pandemonium of luggage unloading, it’s easy for me to grab my small backpack and slip away unnoticed. I get into the first available cab and am whizzing up the Royal Mile within moments.

I don’t look back.

o-o-o

I love Effie, I do, but sometimes I just need to get away. There’s a coffee shop near the rail station that’s a perfect escape, it’s outside of the touristy area and the patio is a great place to people watch.

A swarm of men in sharp black suits rounds the corner, heading straight towards me en route to the train. Slim-fit wool trousers cling appealingly to athletic bodies before spilling downward in perfectly pressed lines to where polished black shoes click on the cobbles. It takes a moment to realize that, no, the swarm of outrageously attractive men sauntering in the spring sunshine are not, in fact, men at all, but boys. Irish schoolboys - fifth and sixth years by the looks of them -  splendid in their crisp white shirts, perfectly tied windsor knots and shiny shoes. I shake my head at myself. Leering at a bunch of teenagers? I’m too old for that. In my defense, they’re much better dressed than any of the men I know. I mean, I assume Gale wore a suit to his wedding, but it would have been the first time. Even when he dragged me to his senior prom, he wore a dress shirt open at the collar and a leather jacket.

I bet Peeta wears crisp suits like these, though.

And just like that, my mood falls again. I miss him. I miss him so much. I’ve spent the past five days lying to myself, trying to make myself believe that the week we spent together was no big deal, a little fun, a lot of great sex, nothing more. But my heart, the frail, foolish thing, is singing another song. I miss him. I feel his loss acutely, despite only having known him a few days. I know I made the right choice, leaving him on that rainy Edinburgh street. His life is here, and mine, what’s left of it, is in Philadelphia, I guess. There’s no chance of a future for us. And no sense mooning over impossibilities. But it doesn’t mean I haven’t fantasized about hiring a car and driving to the coast, just to see him one last time.

It’s the melancholy that’s making me see things. In the middle of the group, a golden head stands out. For a split second, I’m sure the broad shoulders and narrow waist attached to them belong to Peeta. But it’s impossible, these are school children, Peeta is back in his hometown, living his life. But the crowd shifts, and I can see his face clearly, blue eyes shaded by lush golden lashes, the smattering of faint freckles that kiss his sunburned cheeks.

And I drop my teacup.

The clatter catches his attention, his head swivels until he meets my eyes. I’m helpless to look away from the myriad of emotions that play across his handsome face. Surprise, relief, joy and anger. But I’m sure my own face reflects only a single sentiment.

Horror.

He says something I don’t catch to the people he’s with, then changes course to walk purposely to where I sit, frozen and mute, heart pounding so hard that I feel light-headed. He covers the few yards in long strides. The sun catches his hair, crowns him in gold as he stands above me, a wide smile curling those sensual lips. “Katniss,” he says, in that molten sex voice that I hear in my head every time I touch myself. The soundtrack to my every recent fantasy. The lament of my regrets. “I didn’t know you were in Dublin! I thought you’d gone back to America! I’m so bloody happy to see you! You were gone so fast after the tour, I didn’t get your number, and you’re not on Facebook.” He’s reaching for me, and my body instinctively reacts, warmth pooling low in my gut. Which is what snaps me out of my stupor. I jump from my chair, angling myself so that the narrow café table is between us.

“Katniss?” His brows furrow in confusion, his hands dropping to slide into his pockets. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in school?” It’s barely a whisper.

“For another week, yes,” he says, still looking puzzled. As if it isn’t a big deal. A big fucking deal. He’s a child!

“You didn’t tell me you were so young.” I’m not certain I say it out loud until Peeta’s face twists, like he’s tasted something unpleasant.

“I’m eighteen,” he says. “I’ll be nineteen next month.” Eighteen! As if seeing him in that school uniform wasn’t bad enough, the confirmation that he’s a just a kid, that he’s almost nine fucking years younger than me makes my stomach lurch. “Is that a problem? For the record, you never asked.”

“You’re a child!” I say, much more loudly this time, and his frown deepens. “I’m… shit, I’m a pedophile!” Peeta’s jaw tightens, and an angry flush streaks up his neck. He grabs my arm, not hard but not leaving me much recourse, and walks the two of us away from the patio and around the corner of the building, into a quiet alley.

“Knock it off,” he hisses, and for a moment I feel like a naughty child being chastised. Which just serves to piss me off, I’m the grown-up here! I wrench my arm away from him, and back up, crossing my arms in front of me. But the alleyway is narrow and I’ve only moved a step before my back hits the wall. He steps forward, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to feel the tension that radiates from him in waves. “I’m an adult, Katniss,” he says lowly, his words skating across my lips as he leans in. “Old enough to drink, to vote.” His next words brush against the shell of my ear. “Old enough to fuck you senseless.”

A full-body shudder rips through me, equal parts arousal and revulsion. He’s a child! I took advantage of a child! I push against his chest and he takes a single step back, still in my personal space, but giving me enough room to clear my head a little. “I’m, fuck!” I gasp. “I’m twenty-seven. I’m nine fucking years older than you are!”

“Eight,” he says, “and so what? Doesn’t change how I feel about you, or what we have together.”

“It’s wrong-” I start, but he’s having none of it.

“Bullshit! We’re both adults.”

“You lied to me!”

“I did no such thing,” he snaps, but I’m pissed now.

“You told me you owned a bakery on the coast!”

“I do!”

“You’re a child!” His jaw tightens again, I can see the anger in his stormy eyes. Anger and hurt.

His hand reaches for me and instinctively I draw back, but he simply slips my phone out of my pocket. “What the fuck?” I sputter, but he’s already unlocked it and apparently messaged himself.

“Where are you staying, Katniss?” he asks, handing my phone back. I want to tell him it’s none of his business, but I just can’t. The pain in his eyes compels me to tell him.

“My aunt has a house in Clontarf,” I grumble. Peeta nods.

“Come with me tomorrow,” he says.

“What? No, that’s not a good idea Peeta.”

“Please, just do this one thing for me. Then I’ll leave you in peace.” The pain in his eyes is shocking. Guilt eats away at me. It was cruel, I know, sneaking away like a thief in the night. I can see how much I’ve hurt him. He takes my silence as acceptance. “Meet me here tomorrow morning,” he says. “Half eight. Wear a jacket.” Then he spins on his heel and strides out of the alley.

o-o-o

I fight with myself half the night and all morning. I’m not going to show up. He’s not going to show up. I owe him a chance to explain. He’s a fucking child! By the time I make it to the café, I’m an absolute mess.

But an absolute mess wearing mascara and a cute top. I’m a hypocrite, on top of everything else.

Removed from the cold horror of discovering I’d been cavorting with a schoolboy, I have to admit to myself that seeing him again ripped down the walls I tried so hard to construct around my feelings for him. Damn him! Damn him for being gorgeous and sweet and Irish and a toddler!

He pulls up only moments after I arrive, riding a smallish motorcycle, blond curls sticking out from under a black helmet. In jeans and a leather jacket, golden stubble glinting in the thin morning light, he’s even more impossibly handsome. But it’s clear he hasn’t slept well, his wary gaze is ringed with faint purple. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he says softly, pulling off his helmet. I don’t bother to tell him that until I got off the bus, I wasn’t sure either. I simply shrug. He dismounts; I pretend I’m not checking out his ass in those snug-fit jeans. But he merely pulls a second helmet from his saddlebag, handing it to me without quite meeting my eyes.

“What’s going on?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

“Put on the helmet, Katniss, then get on the bike.”

“Don’t you have a car?” I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, and Irish streets with their too-narrow lanes, cobbles, and the whole driving-on-the-wrong-side issue are scary enough in a vehicle with four wheels. His lips twist.

“No. Let’s go, we have a long ride ahead of us.”

It’s madness, but I do as he asks.

I sit stiffly behind him, trying to put some distance between us, but as soon as the bike is in motion, I have no choice but to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. And having him again cradled between my thighs provokes the most confusing rush of emotions. This is such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.

We don’t talk as he pilots us out of the city, we simply can’t. The rush of wind makes that impossible. But from time to time as we pass through the suburbs, then out into the countryside, he’ll squeeze my knee to catch my attention, pointing out an old tower or a ruin, or just the way the sun catches the gorse on the mountainside, making the world glow in sunny yellow. In spite of what I’ve learned, he seems like Peeta, like the man I met in Scotland. He feels like comfort, and like home. When he points of a patch of bluebells clinging to the side of a hill, my heart hurts. I stop fighting with myself and lean into him, my helmet-encased head resting against his broad back, his warmth soothing me. He squeezes my hand where it wraps around his ribs. Acceptance.

About forty-five minutes later, we drive into one of those quintessential Irish postcard villages, narrow medieval buildings crowded along the street - though here they’re painted in lush pastels - colourful bunting zig-zagging across the road and cars parked haphazardly everywhere. He circles a statue of what appears to be a young fisherman, then heads down an impossibly narrow alleyway, parking the bike in a tiny courtyard.

When he offers me his hand to help me off the bike, I take it gratefully. My legs are like jelly, and not just from the ride. He holds my fingers just a little too long, smiling wistfully. Then we rid ourselves of the helmets, and he leads me out of the alley, to stand in front of a building. It’s tall and narrow, like most of the buildings here are, but unlike most, it has an enormous plate glass window facing the street. The building itself is painted turquoise, and Mellark’s is spelled across the front in swoopy gold letters. “Welcome to my bakery,” he says softly, and with a hand on my back he ushers me inside.

The interior is even more charming than the exterior, and for a moment I can only gawk. Polished wood floors, pristine glass cases displaying a decadent array of goodies, and paintings on every wall that feel familiar. But none of that really means anything, does it? He’s in school, it’s clear that this isn’t really his bakery. It probably belongs to his family, and he works here on school breaks.

I turn my attention to the people working behind the counter, three of them. They smile warmly at me, but right away their expressions change as they catch sight of Peeta. They seem to stand a little taller, attempt to look a little busier. “Peeta,” one of them calls out. “We weren’t expecting you.” Well of course they weren’t, it’s Thursday, he’s supposed to be in school.

In school. Ugh. What am I even doing here?

“Just popping in for a bit,” he says with an easy smile. “Have a little business I need to attend to.” He heads towards a swinging door that separates front shop from back, but pauses with his hand on the frame. “Coming, Katniss?” Three heads snap to me in surprise, and I can feel my cheeks burning as I follow Peeta into a small, but modern industrial kitchen.

Here too, the workers stop and straighten, as if they’re trying to impress Peeta. It’s subtle, but I notice it. He greets each warmly by name. And I quickly realise that it’s not fear that makes them all snap to attention. It’s respect. Inexplicably, all of these people seem to respect him.

But it’s not really that inexplicable, is it? He carries himself with a confidence that goes beyond boyish ego. I can’t reconcile the businessman in front of me with the eighteen year old schoolboy I saw yesterday.

Peeta leads me to a small, windowless office at the rear of the building, and gestures for me to sit. Before I’ve even gotten comfortable, one of the women from the front shop has appeared with a pot of tea and a pair of cups. “Thanks, Dell,” Peeta says genuinely. The woman beams at him, then backs out of the office. I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. “Hang on,” he says. “She’ll be back again.”

He’s right, she reappears a few moments later with a plate of food. I haven’t been able to eat since I saw Peeta yesterday in Dublin, and my stomach clenches painfully at the yeasty, cheesy scent wafting from the treats. “You call me if you want anything else,” she says, and Peeta promises he will. With one last wink in my direction, she leaves and this time Peeta closes the door behind her.

“What was that all about?” I ask, trying not to be obvious in my coveting of the buns. He notices anyway, and pushes the plate in front of me.

“Irish hospitality,” he says absently as he pulls the bags out of the teapot. He knows, even without me ever having said anything, that I prefer my tea weak.

I know all about Irish hospitality, know that Delly would continue bringing us more food and more tea and just generally fussing if Peeta hasn’t shut the office door. But this is different. “Not that. The weird way she was looking at me. She… she winked!” He glances up, and a flicker of amusement crosses his face before the sadness creeps back.

“I’ve never brought a woman here before,” he says. I wrinkle my nose at the implication of that, I can’t decide whether it’s because I’m somehow special or because, as a freaking child himself, I’m the first ‘woman’ he’s been with.

“Why have you now?”

“Because I want you to see me. To see that I am exactly who I said I am. Now eat your bun,” he says, nudging the plate again, “while I tell you about my father.”

My heart breaks again and again as Peeta paints a picture of his life. The only child of a single father, he had a typical childhood right up until his father got sick. Terminal cancer. The man spent all of his remaining time preparing his young son to take over the bakery that had been in the Mellark family for generations. At only fifteen, Peeta traded rugby for accounting, friends for responsibility. He even spent his transition year working full time at the bakery, learning the ordering system, studying food safety compliance.

By the time his father died not quite two years ago, Peeta was running the bakery himself.

He has an uncle who deals with the day to day while Peeta finishes school, something he’s doing because he promised his dad he would. But Peeta is the owner, and the one in charge.

It goes a long way to explain his maturity. He hasn’t been a child in a long time. On the face of it, the story sounds unbelievable. But I know what my eyes are telling me. What my heart is telling me. He may be younger, chronologically. But he’s the one with his life together. While I haven’t really grown since high school, his life has leapt light years ahead.

I sit in silence, picking at the cheese bun - which is incredible but which I can’t really enjoy - feeling like a pile of shit. The office door opens. An older man strides in, clapping Peeta hard on the shoulder. “Peet,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting you today! Glad you’re here though, I have those contracts for you to sign.”

“That’s great, Dalton,” he says, taking the proffered papers, his lips moving as he skims the words. But then he frowns. “The wage is wrong,” he says, pointing.

“They’re students,” Dalton says dismissively, and Peeta’s jaw tightens. It’s fascinating to watch, even if I don’t fully understand.

“That’s not how we do things here. I pay everyone a living wage.” Peeta stands, moving around the desk to take my hand, pulling me out of my chair. “When you’ve redone the contracts, leave them on my desk. I’ll pop in later to sign them before I head back to Dublin.” And with that, we walk out, leaving the older man behind.

We walk down the narrow cobbled street towards the waterfront, weaving among the tourists, past the harbour before finally stopping at an overlook right at the edge of the village. Peeta sits heavily on one of the empty benches, and drops his head in his hands. I lower myself beside him.

“You’re a good boss,” I say softly, breaking the silence that hangs between us. He doesn’t look at me.

“The bakery is more than just a job,” he says. “It’s my father’s legacy and my future. I have eight employees who directly depend on me, not to mention the suppliers and lorry drivers and pubs who benefit from my business too.” He lifts his head to look out over the water, and the weariness I see in his face speaks to a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet he’s uncomplaining.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“I’ve never lied to you, Katniss. I might be younger than you thought, but I am exactly the man I said I was, exactly what you saw in Scotland.” Wary blue eyes meet my own. “Can you say the same?” My breath catches. It’s a valid question.

Katniss Everdeen is quiet and closed-off, reserved to the point of unfriendly. Difficult to get to know. Resistant to change. That’s not the woman who spent a week adventuring through the Scottish highlands. That woman smiled more, laughed more. That woman tried new things. That woman opened her heart, if only just a little. I shake my head, and his drops again to stare at his lap. The real Katniss Everdeen is the one who left this kind, gentle man standing on an Edinburgh street in the rain, without a backward glance.

Right now, I don’t like the real Katniss Everdeen very much.

He sighs. “My age isn’t really a problem, is it Katniss? It’s just a convenient excuse. You took off before you knew.” He’s right. When I really search my heart I know that the age gap between us is just a number. In many ways, in most ways really, Peeta is the more mature of us. The one with his priorities straight, with his shit together. Our ages don’t matter at all.

After what feels like an interminable silence, he asks, “Why? Why did you leave without a word? I thought there was something between us. Something real.”

“There is,” I whisper, startling myself with my honesty. He glances up at me, confusion in his expression, but also a heartbreaking flicker of hope. “You’re right,” I tell him. “I was a different person in Scotland. And… and I think I like that person better.” I swallow hard. “I like who I am when I’m with you.

“Then what’s the problem, Katniss?” The hint of frustration in his voice threatens to put me on the defensive.

“Your life is here, Peeta! And I live three thousand miles away!”

“You’re here now,” he says.

“For four more weeks,” I say, and sadness creeps in as I realize that I don’t want to leave him again, that even pissed off and hurt and, yeah, young as he is, just his presence makes me feel alive. “And then what?”

“Why do we have to figure that out now,” he asks. “Why can’t we just take it day by day, see where things go. Live without a plan, without a safety net.” He reaches for me, cradling my face in his hands, and my eyes slip closed. “Live, Katniss. Be the woman you want to be.”

What’s left of my defenses melt away as he kisses me so softly it’s like a dream. My hands wrap around his wrists, holding him in place. Keeping him with me, at least for the moment.

I know the only thing really standing between us is my fear.

“Okay,” I whisper, the words hanging, fragile and afraid, in the space between our lips.

“Yeah?” he smiles. And at my nod, he kisses me again.

I’ve wasted so much time living in complacency, afraid of change. But this feels like a second chance. An opportunity to grow and mature, instead of staying safely stuck in the past. And the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta beside me as I step into the unknown.

—–

[jugsexual]

welcome to riverdale; the core four

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

PROMPT; all hands are on deck when a new girl comes to town, especially when she’s got a secret that’ll either solve the case of jason blossom’s murder or change the course of it completely.

PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS; no pairing; jughead jones, betty cooper, veronica lodge, kevin keller, archie andrews, and mentions of the blossom family.

AUTHOR’S NOTE; hey guys c: this is my first imagine on riverdale and on this account, so some critiques and such are welcomed! also, i'm sorry if the end seems kind of rushed. i wanted to get this up asap.

Welcome to Riverdale, the town with pep!

Packed bags, a loaded truck with all your belongings and a dog in the seat next to you was all you had. Everything you couldn’t carry on your body was poorly packed into several bags, which were all shoved in the bed of your truck and on the floor of the passenger seat.

Fresh start. New beginnings. The usual.

An old house down the street of Riverdale Highschool was where you were going to call home for a while, until you got enough money to actually buy a house and not squat at foreclosed ones.

Your bags were scattered around the living room, labeled with plastic tags; clothes, keepsakes and a designated one for plastic plates and basic cutlery. You had all you needed. Nothing more, nothing less. That was how you lived, with what you had and what you needed.

But sometimes what you had wasn’t enough, and tonight was a perfect example.

“Hi, picking up an order for Lister?” you said as you approached the counter. Your last name was Y/L/N, but you often used different aliases for… various reasons.

The woman with dark hair behind the counter smiled and nodded at you, telling you to hold on as she walked into the presumed kitchen to grab your order.

Jughead Jones was an observant person, so of course he’d notice if someone new was standing in the same room as him. His cloudy eyes were trained on you, narrowed slightly as he tried to see if he was, perhaps, not seeing things right and you were just another Riverdale resident.

But then you turned, and he had absolutely no idea who you were. You pushed your hood back, and even from his seat on the middle of the restaurant he could hear your heavy sigh.

Quickly, he began typing, fingers flying across the keyboard as the words and sentences came buffeting into his mind like a whirlwind.

It wasn’t often somebody new came to Riverdale, like Veronica Lodge and yourself. Jughead, of course, had to write this down, because this could affect nearly everything happening in this town and his novel.

He had barely noticed when you were handed your bag and you started leaving the building. His eyes flew up to your form, where you briefly made eye contact, before you pushed open the doors of Pop’s and were once again pummeled by the rain.

But he watched as you walked in the rain, seemingly careless about it now.

Jughead sat back in his seat, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the screen of his laptop. In all honesty, he didn’t really know what to do, and he wouldn’t know until that Monday when you ran into him again.

You had your hair pulled back in a low and sloppy bun, wearing just a simple pair of jeans and a slightly baggy grey tee that said Oh snap! with a camera on it. You didn’t dress to impress; what was the point? Plus, you couldn’t exactly afford too nice of clothes.

You were wearing your elder sister’s old black converse. The shirt was her’s too, and the jeans you had gotten at some thrift store back in Ohio.

So with an old canvas messenger bag thrown over your shoulder and eyes cold and guarded, you walked into Riverdale high school and legit stared anyone down who dare look at you the wrong way.

But it wasn’t until your second period when your walls were broken down. You hadn’t exactly eaten a proper meal in a few days (the food from Pop’s was just an order of fries and your dog ended up eating most of them, because she was too cute) so you were pretty tired.

You ended up being ridiculed in gym, by someone you could only assume was the Queen of the school. Long red hair, cold eyes, very pretty. You didn’t exactly remember what she had said to you, but it was something about your stained gym shorts.

You had just rolled your eyes. “Sorry, the family room needed to be repainted and this thing called gravity caused the paint to fall.” was all that you said, and luckily for you the bell rang, granting you freedom for the next six minutes.

Your third class was AP English. It was your personal favorite, no matter what school you were going to. Granted, you’ve read Romeo and Juliet so many times you could nearly recite the whole thing by heart, but it was worth it.

You took a seat towards the back of the class, but there was still a whole row of seats behind you. A girl with dark hair sat next to you, a grin on her face as she looked at you.

“Are you Y/N?“ the girl questioned, startling you out of your daze of simply staring at a pencil mark on the desk you were sitting at. Her voice caused you to look up, and you only gave her a curt nod as a response.

“I’m Veronica, Veronica Lodge,” she - Veronica - said. “That’s Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews and behind you is-” she was pointing to each of the people, first the blonde who waved at you with a smile and then the ginger boy who nodded at you, but as she was about to speak the final name, someone interrupted her.

“Jughead Jones,” the boy spoke. You turned in your seat, rubbing your thigh slightly as you smiled at him in a greeting, but your brows furrowed as you further looked at him.

“Weren’t you at that diner the other night?” you asked, and he nodded. “I though you looked familiar.”

“Can’t exactly say the same for you,” he said, giving you just a half a smile as you turned back around, the sound of the bell ringing echoing through the room.

Lunch finally rolled around, granting you pure happiness at the thought of food. But that happiness was short lived as you made your way to the outdoor seating area, finding that you really had no place to sit.

The problem was easily solved, or so you thought, when you took your brown bag of leftover fries and a stolen Lunchables to the shade of a tree. You took a seat on the ground, pulling out To Kill a Mockingbird from your bag to read as you ate.

“Y/N, what’re you doing?” a voice startled you from your book. You glanced up to see Archie - that ginger kid (did he have a soul?) - and Betty stranding above you. Betty was the one who spoke, a tray of food in her hands.

“I’m… eating?” you sounded unsure, not because you didn’t know if you were eating, but because of why they were talking to you. “That’s what you do at lunch, right?”

Archie let out a laugh. “What she meant to say was why are you eating alone?” he clarified.

“Oh, um, because I don’t have friends, I guess,” you hesitated. Betty gasped.

“I am offended!” she exclaimed with wide eyes, but she really wasn’t. “We’re your friends, silly; come sit with us.”

So that’s how you ended up here, sitting between Jughead and Betty quite uncomfortably while everyone around you talked.

You had tried to excuse yourself multiple times, but Betty kept telling you to stay, and you couldn’t refuse, so you stayed seated and just slipped away into your subconscious.

What was your dog doing? Did you lock the front door when you left for school this morning? When was the last time you talked to your family? Questions and thoughts that didn’t exactly answer them ran through your mind.

It wasn’t until somebody jabbed their fingers into your side and made you squeal did you actually listen to the conversation.

You blushed from your outburst, looking around to see Jughead looking quite pleased and everyone else chuckling.

“Sorry, Y/N, you were up in space and we had to pull you back down somehow.” Archie said with a chuckle in his voice.

You just rolled your eyes. "There's plenty of other ways to do that, you know," you grumbled, running your arm slightly.

Archie shrugged. "Anyways," he started, "We were asking you where you came from, where you're living, the usual,"

You swiped your tongue across your teeth as you glanced around the the people at the table. "I'm kind of from everywhere," you said, "My family moves a lot, so I really have no hometown or anything."

You could see Betty turn to you from the corner of your eye. "Lucky you," she said, "All of us - except for Ronnie - have been in Riverdale our whole lives."

You looked at her, then at Veronica. "Where'd you come from?"

"The Upper East Side," Veronica replied. "Just moved here a few weeks ago. I was lucky enough to befriend all of these guys in such short time."

You smiled. "Yeah, you guys aren't too shabby," you said, and Betty bumped into your shoulder with her own, a grin on her face.

And it was then you started to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to move anymore. You wanted to stay in Riverdale, where you had established friends for once.

You had established a lot in the short time you were in Riverdale. You made friends, built up a reputation... hell, you even helped with the investigation with Jason Blossom.

The latter part seemed mandatory for you.

After all, you knew who killed him.

But you had to keep your lips sealed.