#both are about to have one hell of a night...

[sheepispink]

Simon knew married life was different, hell even living with another was. But he wasnt ready for the amount of compromises he’d have to make.

For starters, he wasn’t allowed any type of breakfast on a Sunday morning, especially anything plain. That was because you insisted on making waffles, pancakes—hell maybe even french toast— you loved a sweet treat, and you refused to let your waffle machine that he got for your birthday go to waste. So he’d sit there at 10:30am, since he was also not allowed to wake up any earlier, whilst you moved around the kitchen and asked him which fruits he wanted atop of that day’s breakfast.

Then there were Saturday afternoons, in which he already knows that he won't ever have peace and quiet at three pm because that’s your mandatory dance around the kitchen while you clean up time. Of course, he’s not allowed to have his feet touch the floor if he decided to laze on the couch during that, since you’re already approaching with the vaccum and threatening to suck up the sock right off his foot.

He cant forget lunch times while you’re on holiday either. If he even so forgets his lunchbox at home, you’re already delivering to him, the smiley face on the post-it note almost as wide as your own grin as you hand it to him.

But Simon has a few compromises of his own too.

You’re not allowed to buy any self-care items without using his card, and best believe he expects you to let him lather the face mask off your face and then clean it all of after, along with a few kisses to your cheeks of course. Same goes for your hair or nails, if you want them done, you better show him when you get back, and if you even dare to spend your own money on your period chocolate, he’ll be grumpy for the rest of the day. Grocery shopping is usually shared, and by that he means he gets to push the trolley around whilst you investigate every new item released, adding whatever nonsense you want to the basket.

For post missions there are strict rules too. One, when he walks through that door, you’re expected to drop whatever you’re holding. If you dont come to him first, he’s already tugging his shoes off and searching the halls for you like a damn sniffer dog. When he does locate you, his arms wrap tightly around your middle, nose burying into the crook of your neck as he squeezes you tightly. Two, if you havent made dinner, he’s dragging you from whatever you’re doing to the couch, swallowing you in his frame as he holds the phone before the both of you and makes you choose what takeaway you want. There’s also the possibility where he comes home fairly late, just before you’re about to sleep. So long as you have nothing important the next day, he pulls you into the bathroom with him, where you force him to let you do all the cleaning up. You get another round of kisses after you scrub him down, and another when you both dry yourselves down and he gets to see you in your cutest pajamas.

His final request of you is that he gets to hold you close every night he can, even if you’ve had a petty argument or worse one. He’d never let you stay upset for that long anyway, so he’s content having you in his arms, smelling as fresh as a daisy as you murmur about the waffles you’re making the next morning. There’s one thing you agreed to never compromise on— your love for eachother.

buy me a kofi!

[athenalvss]

Wally west X batsis!reader please 🙏😩

Maybe where she's looking hot asf at a party Bruce is holding in the wayne manor ball room and all the JL and young justice and teen titans are they and someone's flirting with reader and he realises he needs to swoop in real fast. Dick, Roy, Jason, Kyle and Donna are his biggest wingmen

NERVOUS

summary: Wally is madly in love with you, but he's scared of you and your dad, but his friends try not to let that stop him.

pairing: Wally west x batsis!reader

note: idk what I did lol I tried to write smt cute but idk what happened to me. AND officially Wally west has a masterlist

open request - wally west masterlist

The crystal chandeliers in the living room shone like stars, and you, with that damn impeccable wine colored dress and the innate bearing of a Wayne, seemed unattainable to anyone, untouchable, as if you were the most valuable jewel in Gotham.

You were gorgeous, completely mesmerizing to anyone, but even more so to Wally. But it wasn't anything new to anyone; it wasn't the first time he'd looked at you like that. In fact, he'd been doing it for years.

He met you when you were both teenagers, a couple of years after becoming friends with Dick. You weren't yet an active part of the vigilante world; Bruce didn't want to risk anything happening to you, but it was only a matter of time before you made a place for yourself in his world, at least working from the Batcave, providing information and conducting major investigations.

But even then, at a young age, you were a whirlwind; sharp, brilliant, with that dangerous mix of charm and sarcasm that left him speechless.

And tonight, seeing you like this, with that dress that hugged your curves with lethal precision, with that presence, while you were laughing at something that idiot Atlantean ambassador said, I felt like I couldn't keep pretending anymore.

Because now you weren't just his teenage crush, you weren't two kids anymore. He was a grown man, and you were a beautiful woman. He had to do something. He couldn't breathe at the thought of someone else getting there first.

I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there like another spectator while someone else refilled your glass and said things he wished he'd whispered to you years ago.

I couldn't breathe at the thought of someone else getting there first. Of someone else stealing your smiles, your secrets, your nights.

"Would you stop staring at my sister?" Dick asked, appearing at his side.

Wally didn't take his eyes off you, still watching every inch of you. How the hell could he get close to you if every time he spoke he was just talking nonsense? Maybe you liked that half-fish guy? Or maybe... did you always have that mole on your right breast?

"You've already broken him, you asked him for a very difficult task, Dick," Jason announced from a corner, holding a glass.

"He hasn't blinked in three minutes," Roy added, chewing on something. "Literally. I'm worried about his nervous system."

Donna placed a hand on Wally's shoulder, with that trained calm she used when someone was about to explode. "We know you can do it. But if you need help... well, we're bored, and it's a worthy cause."

"Perfect," Jason said, crossing his arms. "This is officially a field operation."

—What? No, you don't need a gun to th——Wally looked at them, somewhere between frustrated and scared.

"No one mentioned a gun," Donna interrupted, already pulling a small transmitter from her purse. "Right, Jason?"

Silence.

Jason smiled. “Didn’t you want to get rid of that guy over there?”

—Yeah, but not like that! We're not going to shoot anyone. —Wally raised his hands nervously.

"Shoot him?" Jason let out a dry laugh. "Don't worry so much about the guy, focus on keeping up with my sister."

Wally looked at him as if he'd been stabbed straight through the ego. "What kind of motivation is that?"

— a realist, —Roy chimed in naturally as he looked you up and down from afar— She's so fine, and you're... well, you're you.

"Thanks, Roy," Wally replied with a bitter smile. "It's nice to have friends like that."

"We're not your friends right now, at least not me," Jason clarified. "You want to flirt with my sister, it's totally disgusting. And Roy, shut up."

Roy threw up his hands, offended but amused. "I only tell the truth. Do you want me to lie? Do you want me to tell him he has a chance without our help?"

"Yeah!" Wally exclaimed. "Lie to me a little! Some emotional support wouldn't hurt, you know?"

—Perfect, everyone shut up —Donna took a small transmitter out of her bag— Put this on, Wally

Wally looked at her with a mixture of surprise and resignation, while Donna skillfully adjusted the transmitter behind his ear. "What's this?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

"A direct channel to us," Donna replied with a reassuring smile. "We'll guide you in real time so you don't make a fool of yourself."

"Really?" Wally blinked in disbelief. "Is this to save me from myself?"

"Exactly," Jason crossed his arms with a wry smile. "Now you really have no excuses."

Roy leaned closer, his tone more serious. "We're here to make sure you don't die virgin."

"You're an idiot Roy." Dick looked at him seriously.

Donna stepped back, assessing him like a soldier before entering the battlefield. “Ready.”

"Already?" Wally asked, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"Okay. Give me two minutes," Donna said, turning toward the dance floor. "And you, breathe. Straighten your back. And for the love of the Titans... don't look at that mole again."

"I wasn't going to look at the mole!" Wally protested.

Dick just patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck, West.”

And then Donna moved forward. She crossed the room with the kind of confidence that could make politicians and aliens alike tremble. By the time she reached you, your glass was already half empty, and the Atlantean ambassador was rambling on about some unimportant maritime treaty.

"Shall I steal her from you for a second?" she asked, with a charming smile. She placed a hand on your back and gently guided you away from the Atlantean ambassador. You didn't ask any questions. You knew that if Donna pulled you out of a conversation, it was for a reason.

"I owe you one," you murmured.

"You'll pay me back," she replied with a half smile before disappearing into the crowd.

You turned to go back to the middle of the room and that's when you saw Wally, just passing by, drink in hand.

His eyes found you. He stopped.

"Hey," you said, before him. Had he always had those green eyes? oh god, he has a new freckle.

"Hey," he repeated, his voice steadier than he felt inside.

>Roy: He's in! We've got eye contact!

Jason: He shouldn't be talking nonsense.

Donna: Okay, let's let him breathe.

Dick: Shhh, turn it down. He's nervous.

"Are you having fun?" you asked with a genuine smile.

"Sort of. Not as much food as I expected," Wally replied without thinking. Then he laughed at himself. "Though... I think the night's looking up now."

Roy: There! Good one! Point for the unforced comment.

Jason: I give it half a point.

"Do you want to get some fresh air? We can go... to the garden, if you like," he suggested, as if he didn't want to miss the moment.

"Sure," you replied. "Besides, they made some nice arrangements in the garden, you have to appreciate them..."

idiot, idiot, idiot, what did I just say?

You walked together without saying much at first, through the French doors that led to the garden. The fresh air enveloped them with a faint scent of jasmine and damp earth. Inside, the party continued to echo in the distance.

Wally nervously ran a hand down the back of his neck as you leaned your arms on the stone railing overlooking the lower garden.

"It's a very nice view..." he murmured.

"Yes, it is," you replied softly, without looking at him. "If you think this view is great, you can't imagine what it looks like from my room." I just invited him to my room, shit

Roy:…

Donna: THAT'S IT GIRL, SHOW HIM!

Jason: I refuse to process it.

Dick: Don't go there, Wally, don't go fucking there!

Wally choked slightly on his own breath. “From your room… do you have the best view of Gotham?” he tried pathetically.

You shrugged, amused. “Depends on what you want to see” You leaned a little closer, enjoying the mix of nervousness and tenderness he exuded, "So... do you want to see the city with me from my room sometime?"

Wally swallowed, as if he was about to say something big.

Roy: IT'S NOW, IT'S NOW!!

Donna: Don't think about it anymore, just come closer!

Jason: If they kiss, I'm cutting the channel.

Dick: Shhh, shhh, Wally's going to—

They were a second away from getting close, from finally breaking the tension, finally going to be able to live in peace, damn those beautiful eyelashes…

"tsk, fucking disgusting."

You both turned. Damian. Standing like a shadow in the bushes. Arms crossed. “Stay away from my sister or I’ll bury you alive” face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, visibly fed up.

Damian raised an eyebrow with absolute calm. "By keeping you from making stupid decisions."

Wally opened his mouth to defend himself, but Damian glared at him before any words came out. "Slowly back away from my sister..."

BONUS SCENE

In a secluded corner of the room, away from the hustle and bustle of string music, some League members share light conversation and moderate drinks. Barry Allen glides among them with his usual restrained energy, stopping next to Bruce, who watches silently from a vantage point.

His gaze is fixed on something beyond the crowd: on the garden, where his daughter and a young redhead in a suit are laughing too close to the edge.

Barry smiles, then follows her gaze. His expression changes slightly. "Oh, I get it."

"he's too close."

Barry was holding back a laugh at Bruce's intense concern for his daughter. "Come on, Bruce. He's nervous, not a danger. He's been avoiding her for years; her breathing by his side is progress."

Bruce finally turns his face toward Barry—Tell your nephew to stay away from my daughter, not to bother her.

"I really don't think it'll bother her. Oh look, she's getting closer."

Bruce discreetly reaches for the communicator hidden in his ear. He taps a channel. He doesn't change his tone of voice.

"Damian, now."

[owlcafe]

Please feel free ignore my inane, barely-related ramblings

Perhaps the most memorable conversation of my life was with a bus driver, on the regular route I took home from university when I was a grad student. He and I had both landed a Tuesday graveyard shift, so I was the only person getting on this bus at 10pm or so. The week before, the bus had arrived late, while I was waiting, so this driver had come up to me and asked if I minded if he took his break now - apparently it was timed such that he would entitled to his break either now or after the return route. Without much thought I said something to the effect of "hell yeah brother rest up", for obvious enough reasons. The following week, it was raining, and I was scrambling to find cover in a place where I could still see the bus stop. The bus came early this time, and the driver rode up to the stop and let me on the bus early to get out of the rain. I didn't initially recognise him as the same driver, but apparently it had meant a lot to him that I hadn't flown into a rage insisting I be delivered home on schedule by an overworked and tired driver.

As you do, we got to talking, and the obvious course of the conversation was to ask what had gone wrong in our lives that we were mutually on this godforsaken bus at 10pm on a Tuesday night instead of doing literally anything else. His story was more or less what you expect - it was the best job available to him to make the kind of money you need to support a family these days. My story was simply that I'd signed on for a PhD, and with it a pretty good helping of teaching hours, including the occasional 5-9pm lab class (a process which, incidentally, more or less prevented me from having a driver's licence at the time. Don't worry about the details, but it's important to the story).

At this point, I had just begun the process of emerging from a series of self-loathing spirals - the one that stems from being an autistic child, then the one that comes from simply being 14, then the one that comes from being bisexual, then the one that comes from being non-binary, to the bonus round of growing up in a stereotypically male way while being non-binary and the unique way that makes you feel like your body is betraying you when your hair starts thinning at 19, and and fun and fresh ways these all bleed into each other. At some point in that whole whirlwind, I'd become quite convinced I wasn't going to make it out alive, despite never having any real risk to my life externally or even really internally, so my early to mid 20s were a period of discovering that I did indeed survive and now I needed a plan. This led to me falling into a lot of things just cause they sounded nice. I took a lot of odd jobs because they sounded interesting or paid well, I signed on to the PhD simply because I was asked to by my supervisor and I liked the idea of earning myself a gender neutral title, as if putting Dr [extremely common male name] on my mail was actually going to make people think twice about whether or not I was a man. This all to say, I was in the beginning of cultivating my "just a guy" self-image. It's easier, in that circumstance, to cut away the grandeur and the pompousness, because you can easily recognise them as fake. It's harder to cut away at the ways in which you undermine yourself, hate yourself, discredit yourself, because it feels like humility (and, especially in an emergent and incomplete social justice mindset, it's easy to invoke your privileges with the aesthetic of checking them, but the function of whipping yourself for "not earning" the things that you have, only further centralising your feelings as a member of the oppressor class).

To finally get to the point of all this, whenever you mention you're doing a PhD there's a pretty common social script that happens. The other person says that's very impressive, you bat it off, they say oh no I could never, and then you either make some joke about the absolute buffoons with PhDs you've inevitably met in your time in academia or just laugh awkwardly and move on. The bus driver starts the script normally, with an "oh that's very impressive" and I follow up with the canned response of "oh its not really all that, anyone could do what I'm doing". And then, I remember very precisely, he said "it seems that way to you because you can, the same way I think anyone could drive this bus because I can. But, I couldn't do what you do anymore than you could drive this bus."

And that pierced through it for me in a way that's really stuck with me. If I wanted to do the ivory tower academic thing, I could semantically dissect his statement - I could drive the bus and he could do my PhD, it's more accurate to say that the power structures surrounding us wouldn't have permitted it because I didn't have a licence to satisfy the local laws and he didn't have the educational background to pierce through the veil of graduate school exclusivity. I don't necessarily think it's literally true, what he said, but it was very powerful to me emotionally at the time. Because, in that moment in the bus at 10pm, we were both just some guy. We'd ended up in different places because of our circumstances, our identities, our choices, but we were still just some guy. In that moment, I had the same capabilities and limits as he did, just distributed differently. And for me, I'd spent most of my adolescence and much of my early 20s desperately projecting this ideal of like. A renaissance man, I guess? I needed people to believe that I was perfect, unlimited, infinitely skilled but also unflinchingly humble, lest they detect the parts of me that I assumed they would hate (because I hated them about myself). That someone I'd never really met before could so precisely and sincerely cut through it all, simultaneously denying me my instinct to degrade myself and reminding me that I am indeed subject to many and varied limitations, denying me even the privilege to bemoan that of course I can achieve these things because I'm white and middle class and so on, so I'm really not that remarkable. It really affected me. It brought me to a new level of being just some guy, and really helped me calibrate my vision of myself.

Obviously, it didn't fix everything in that single moment, but it helped me build a new frame I could use to look at things. If I started to feel shame or fear over not being able to do some particular thing that I wanted to do or felt compelled to do socially, I could remember that moment and how my path in life has given me limits as well as possibilities. And that's kept both halves of my ego in check ever since - I don't feel that I'm somehow entitled or should naturally have "lesser" skills on account of having access to "greater" ones (I can run advanced stats like nobody's business but I still can't drive a car), and I also don't feel the guilt and shame of not having certain skills that are considered basic because I have other skills that I've developed instead (yes I can't drive a car, but I can run advanced statistics).

I am once again just yapping with no real purpose but this idea really strikes a chord with me I guess. I just wanna say these things cause I want to. I don't particularly feel that there's untold wisdom or anything, it's a pretty milquetoast case of this whole thing occurring, but if anything I guess I feel compelled to pass on the wisdom I got from that bus driver that night. For better or for worse, we're all just some guy.

i really do believe that the answer to a lot of people's self hatred is not to try and reassure them that they are wonderful and okay and enough, but instead to remind them theyre a completely unremarkable regular ass person who is not the center of the universe or especially important so why would they expect themselves to be some superhuman savior. like there really is a kernel of out of control self importance at the heart of thinking youre an evil lazy piece of shit. because why would you expect you be anything but just like some guy. if you wouldnt expect the guy who works at the vape shop or your mailman or whatever to be able to do something then why would you expect yourself to? youre just some random ass person. its fine

[dating-eveeything]

Mac romantic hcs please? 🥺 (preferably with a gender neutral reader but whatever you are comfy with writing is ok too!)

Romantic headcanons for: MAC

Featuring: Mac

Fic type: headcanons, fluff!!

No content warning, pretty short length wise, Gender neutral reader :)

Yay!! I love Mac soo much, made me so happy to see this in my inbox ❤️

First of all, once you enter a relationship with Mac your 11.5 hours of screentime a business week skyrockets higher than a person who touches grass could ever imagine.

Mac is pretty in-between when it comes to physical affection; though they tell you late one night that they only like it when you touch their keys or mess with the mouse.

Kisses are an average occurrence, leaning over the side of their chair and grabbing onto your shirt like it's the end of their life to tug you down- Peppering your face in kisses.

Post-getting together they push just a little more for you to get better parts for their system, promising that a new fan would work wonders for both them and you. Of course they understand the hesitation to replace anything, parts are so expensive nowadays, but they know eventually they'll wear you down.

And obviously, not only do they get you to buy things for them, but things for you too. That shirt set you wanted but decided on not getting? They're holding you close and telling you about how nice you would look in them, how good it'll feel to 'treat yourself'.

Sadly, you can't sit on their lap. Their legs don't have the strength to keep up any weight over ~10 pounds. But that doesn't mean you can't still cuddle up to them; Mac can sit on your lap, or the two of you can sit on the floor together under the desk, or you can lay in bed together.

Albeit, Mac doesn't like standing idle, so it might take some work to get them to rest. They always want to be working on something, even if that work ends up being a boring desk job where you really only respond to emails.

They enjoy showing off things they think you'll like, using popups to show you a funny video they saw online, or a jacket that's just your style, it's one of their most common ways of showing they pay attention to you.

Their love language is Parallel Play. Simply sitting next to you and working on separate things is fine with them. Hell, you could be talking to Chance or Dasha and they wouldn't care- as long as you hold their hand and squeeze it from time to time.

Not really the jealous type, they know you on a very intimate level, they know your type; they are your type. It's going to take more than some mediocre pick-up lines over text to get them jealous.

Though, there was this one time where they shut off the show you were watching instead of working because you kept oogling one of the actors. So maybe it isn't as hard as you think?

Flustering them is rather easy, no double clicking needed. Praise gets their fan running quicker than it probably should. They especially enjoy it when you praise them for their smooth running systems after a long day of running some pretty big programs and they'll melt.

[valentinedrifter]

Snippets with Jiwon: Belle

male reader x Park Jiwon

~2.3k words

A/N: Prompt for @suchsweetstories. Thanks for hosting!

Enjoy.

“Here’s your shake!”

The room glows, flashing every color in the rainbow as the drum of the bass starts to beat through your chest. Laughter, giggles, and conversations were everywhere. Not like in those night clubs where it was messy and chaotic. This was quieter, tamer, more focused.

The decor of hearts—neon lights, balloons, the Goddamn headband of it you were forced to wear—decorated everything, from the walls to the chairs to the cherry on top of the shake you just got. It was all red, hiding from the glow of the lights flashing around them.

The DJ somewhere at the back was playing some old songs that you couldn’t tell if people cared about or not since they were all focused on each other rather than anything else.

You sigh, taking a deep breath before taking the chance to glance around the room. Couples all over the place, drinking the same single shake you have, with two straws and two spoons, two mouths. Facing each other, sitting next to one another, it didn’t fucking matter. 

They were all the same, just in different shapes and sizes. The older couple wrapping their arms around each other staring outside the window or the awkward one that were laughing at each other for drinking on the same glass.

In the end they were all enjoying what they were here for.

“Happy Valentines!”

This feels like a mistake, and you shouldn’t have let Jiwon convince you to do this.

You don’t even know how she managed to do it. Only that she yelled at you to attend this ‘blind date’ event to get your mind off of things.

Things being your ex that left you for some gym rat she met where she works out at.

She didn’t bother to give you the courtesy of telling you face to face. Just a text telling you that she needs a ‘break’ then proceeds to block your number.

If you can call a break hooking up with someone else because you found her cheating.

And yeah, not sleeping right and wallowing in your misery for the first few weeks of the breakup isn’t the healthiest way to cope, but this is not the answer to fixing your heart.

It’s been months since the break up anyway, and you told yourself to swear off of falling in love in the near future. 

You were doing fine. 

Jiwon disagrees, because she always does, which is why you’re holding a tray with a milkshake in an event to try and find your ‘dream girl’ as she puts it.

You should’ve told her to set herself up too since she’s been single since birth.

Your supposed ‘blind date’ hasn’t shown up and it’s been almost half an hour since the event started.

And the number stub that was given to you has been staring at you for the majority of the time you’ve spent together.

Twenty might as well haunt you at this point.

No dream girls here.

It really didn’t have to be on February 14th of all days because that felt like pouring salt in the wound and slapping the utter shit out of it.

Like, holy shit, who would even set up a blind date event on Valentines?

And yet here you are, pushing through it anyway. Did it to prove a point that you still have your shit together. You dressed up, got a new cut, used your favorite perfume. Cleaned yourself up pretty well, you have to admit. 

It still feels as if you’re conducting self-inflicted torture on yourself to see all these people enjoying their dates and you’re here in the middle of all of it. 

Sitting on a table. 

Staring across the empty seat.

Struggling to enjoy the free shake.

Alone.

Your hand wraps around the tall glass, cooling your palms. You were about to grab a straw until you notice:

A pair of straws, a duet of spoons. Both heart-shaped.

Two.

Motherfuckers.

You must’ve looked depressing as hell to everyone in the building right now, staring at the milkshake you got, watching the glass slowly condensate and the ice cream melt on top.

You sigh, feeling the hearts bobble on your head shake when you reach out to one of the straws, hearing a slower song start to play before a hand takes it away from the tray.

You can smell the rosy-wine smell on the arm that took it. It smelled familiar, like someone who always left that same scent every time you met. 

“Hey.” You hear, making you look up to see a very familiar face.

“Jiwon?” You squint against all the glare of the party lights, and sure enough, it was her, in the flesh, standing right in front of you. Wearing a combination of black and red that looked amazing on her, with a choker on her neck and the same headband that you’re wearing to complete the ensemble.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Jiwon smiles, “Didn’t get a chance to catch your dream girl?”

“No, I–Hold on, what are you doing here?” You watch her sit down on the chair in front of you, her purse settling on the table. “I thought you were with Hayoung.”

“I was. She’s right over there.” She points the straw behind you, aiming it near the music booth where Hayoung was talking with the DJ. “You know how much she likes these types of songs.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you two are doing here.” You return Hayoung’s enthusiastic wave with a shy, confused one before turning back to Jiwon, who’s already taking a sip of your milkshake, that glint in her eye that makes you narrow your eyes.

The next few words that came out of her mouth make you wanna—

“Does my honey not wanna see me?” She asks in this cutesy tiny little voice that makes your eyes widen, your head leaning back in, and your entire being thrown off balance. “Even after I dressed up like this for him?”

“Jiwon, what the fuck are you saying–” You can’t even continue your line of thought because she starts pouting, and that really starts to confuse the fuck out of you because you don’t know whether you like seeing that look from her or not.

“Hmph!” She makes a face. The type that looks cute and adorable, the type that makes your heart beat faster, the type that makes you want to puke at the second hand embarrassment you’re getting. “My honey doesn’t love me anymore!”

“Please stop, you’re making me cringe.” You let out. It’s a self-defense mechanism to protect your heart from whatever the fuck she’s trying to do.

“I was being cute!” She screams, drawing a few looks from the nearby people and making her mouth a ‘Sorry’ with a little peace sign and a bashful laugh before looking back at you.

“Besides, you like it when I act cute. Don’t think I didn’t see it.” She grins, taking another sip of the milkshake.

“You’re seeing things.” You retort. “And don’t think you can get away with not answering my question.”

“What question?” She tilts her head, the lights shadowing her face. And all you do is give a blank stare and a raised eyebrow to avoid thinking about how beautiful she looks, from the way she’s dressed to her cute dimple on her face.

“The question.” You reiterate. “You know, the one I asked you earlier?”

She hums, before batting her eyelashes and placing her hands on her chin. “Remind me?”

You sigh. “What are–”

“–I doing here?” She finishes, giggling, dimples showing. She dips her spoon into the shake, scooping up a piece of ice cream from the glass and holds it out towards you.

“Say ‘ah’ first.” She grins. You can smell the roses on her arm.

You blink, once towards the spoon, another towards her. “You’re joking.”

“Come on.” She drags, nudging the spoon even more. The smell is intoxicating. “Indulge me a little, honey.”

“No, Jiwon.” A shake of your head. Honey’s starting to sound really nice though.

“Pretty please?” Her pout’s back in full swing, doing her cute act of tilting her head, giving you those irresistible puppy eyes and the child-like voice airing out of her lips. “Just one, honey?”

Normally you’d say no. It’s the easiest thing in the world to say. One word. One syllable. 

But everything about her is just messing you up in all the good, the bad, the her ways from the moment she sat down.

And so, you cave in.

“Only once.” You sigh before leaning in towards her.

She grins before feeding you, giggling as she pulls it away. Her scent still lingers around you.

“You fold so easy when I act cute.” She states, placing the spoon on her pouting lips, tongue slipping out before she winks at you. “I should take notes on these–”

You weren’t used to this type of Jiwon. She was playful, sure, but never flirty with you. She’d tease, yell, whatever. Thought it was all friendly banter at that point. And from the moment you knew her, she would never, ever, act like this for you.

And you honestly thought she swung the other way judging from the looks she gives Hayoung on occasion. Or how she touches Jisun. And how well she knows Chaeyoung a little too much.

It was really, painfully obvious when she was with Miyeon. She even cried happy (or was it sad?) tears when she found out Miyeon got together with one of her coworkers. That ‘New Girl from Japan’ that Jiwon says everyone likes because of how bubbly she is.

But maybe you were wrong about her. And you don’t know what that means for you or for her.

“So,” You cough, gulping, praying that she doesn’t catch you like a nervous mess because of her. She’d never let it go. “Would you mind answering my question now?”

“Fine, fine.” She rummages through her purse a bit before she takes out a piece of paper. “I’m sitting here all dressed up, for this.”

She places it down, and the number is practically screaming out of it.

Twenty.

Two. Zero.

Oh.

“Oh, he says.” She giggles, chin resting on her palm. You were starting to like the sound of it coming out of her. “Didn’t expect it to be me?”

“I never really thought you were into these types of things.” You answer, eyes still focused on the stub. “And I thought you said you were going clubbing with Hayoung.”

“Technically, this is a club.” She replies, eyes dancing around the room. “And I was with Hayoung when we came in.”

“Did you also set yourself up as my blind date?”

“That was more of a group effort.” She smiles, tongue out and all. “Chae started it.”

“That’s now how blind dates are supposed to work.” You sigh—you’ve been doing that a lot.

“You didn’t know I was your date, so it’s still a blind date, honey.” She flicks the heart on her headband. “Besides, the look on your face is so worth the effort.”

“You are crazy.” You laugh despite yourself. This was not how you expected your night to go.

“Maybe.” She grins. All dimples and teeth and crescent eyes. “Maybe I just wanted to spend my Valentines with you.” 

You should have said something. Asked about the real reason she’s your date and not someone random. Why she went through all this trouble for you.

But you don’t know if you’re ready to hear the answer just yet. Besides, she’s done enough things today for you to put that on the back burner right now.

“Thanks for saving me, I guess.” You let out a smile of your own. Small, tired, content.

“You’re welcome!” She takes another scoop of ice cream. Grand, excited, happy. “Now enjoy this milkshake with me.”

“Only if you tell me how you all of you set this up.” Whether this was an excuse to keep things light or you wanted to hear her voice, you’ll never know.

“Deal.”

She starts rambling about how Chaeyoung found out that a mutual friend was helping out organize the entire event. How Hayoung decided to ‘volunteer’ and help out so that she can thumb down your names. How she convinced—screamed at, but semantics—you to attend the event.

You listened to all of it. Every crack in her voice when she giggles, every change in tone whenever she tries impersonating one of her friends. You don’t even notice that the milkshake’s almost gone.

You could watch her ramble on about things that could make your brain hurt like those brainrot memes that were blowing up all over the place and you’d take all of it and sit there with a smile–

Oh. Oh.

“–So now all I had to do was show up and look pretty while you gawk at how beautiful I am.”

“I wasn’t gawking.” You splutter, avoiding her gaze. You definitely weren’t. 

Surely.

“Uh-huh.” She smirks. “Didn’t you look like this–”

She starts making faces, pretending to be you when she first sat down. She looked adorably stupid doing it.

“I wasn’t that bad.” You laugh, flicking the spoon at her.

“I dunno.” She laughs with you, leaning back. “You were pretty bad at hiding it.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, and all that’s left is her smile, the music, and those little flutters in your chest that you used to have way back when. Her lips break into a grin, and her eyes light up.

You feel as if you could lose yourself in them.

Then she speaks, spoon raised and pointed towards you. 

You realize: you’re right back at square one.

“Happy Valentines, you idiot.”  

Falling in love.

“Yeah.” You smile, a shake of your head accompanying the spoon that you’re holding. You clink it together with hers.

“Happy Valentines, Jiwon.”

[prettydaisygirl]

Hello beautiful, I hope you're having a good day ♡

I came to ask you for a request about Sirius, my boy haha

One where he and the reader are starting their relationship and she thinks that maybe he doesn't take her as seriously as her previous ex-boyfriends and that after one night together, their first time together as a couple, she thinks that he's going to leave just like that without knowing that he's enthusiastic about aftercare. 😭💗

hello gorgeous!! Thank you so, so much for this request. This is technically the first thing I'm writing for Sirius (minus my wip) so please give feedback if you want! I hope you enjoy this, happy to have you here!

boyfriend!Sirius Black x fem!reader who finds out Sirius loves aftercare ✿ 823 words

cw: NSFW but no actual smut, fem reader, takes place right after their first time together, comparison of sex with Sirius to previous relationships (vague)

sirius black masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Truth be told, you aren’t quite sure what to do.

You’re fully spent, thighs still trembling, the echo of Sirius’ grunts and praises still in your ear. Your chest heaves with shaking breaths, and Sirius’ hand traces soft, soothing circles over your heart. You try not to relish in it too much. 

The two of you have only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and now you’re tangled together in the sheets for the first time. You feel thoroughly satisfied, though it wasn’t like you weren’t expecting for it to be good. Hell, even better than good considering he's Sirius Black. It was the best sex you’ve ever had. 

Now though, you aren’t sure what to do. Your exes would stay for a bit, give you a goodbye kiss, and slowly get dressed and leave. It was pretty clear with them. It’s never just been… quiet before. 

You sit up, and Sirius’ hand falls to your thigh before sliding off and landing on the bed. He lets out a groan and throws a hand over his eyes. Both of your bodies are slick with sweat and the scent of sex is still thick around you. 

You stretch your arms over your head, eyes tailing over Sirius’ figure. His arm moves enough to reveal his gaze to you, sharp but still dark with lust as you look over him. 

“I think you’ve killed me.” He tells you with a tired but teasing smirk. A flutter ignites in your belly despite your own exhaustion. You return his smile, and the room is enveloped in silence once again. Eventually, you begin feeling self conscious as Sirius just watches you. You turn, sliding your legs off the side of the bed, preparing to stand. 

“Where are you going?” Sirius asks, hand clasping gently around your arm to stop you from standing. You turn back again, brows furrowing just enough to be noticeable. 

“I was just… going to get dressed?” You say it as a question, now feeling a bit uneasy as he sits up too. 

“Why?” Sirius’ eyes look you over and you try not to squirm. It feels ridiculous considering he was just inside you, talking you through your orgasm. “Is it… did you not- was I not good?”

Your eyes widen, the answer to his question leaving your mouth before you even really know what you’re saying. “What? No! No, you-” Your face feels hot and you almost want to avoid his gaze. “You were perfect.”

“Okay…” Sirius is watching you like he’s trying to decipher a code, his hand flattening against your skin before brushing up and down slowly. “Then why are you running away?”

“I’m not!” You deny, though it’s clear to both of you that you definitely are. “I just- we’re done, right? So I thought…”

Your words trail off, and Sirius raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. “You thought…?”

You hate how awkward this is. You’ve never had to decipher a guy like this after sex before. You wonder how it’s possible for him to know your body so well, and yet here the two of you are acting like awkward, fumbling teenagers. “I thought… you’d want to go?”

Sirius blinks a few times, then you’re shrieking loudly as his grip tightens around your arm again and he tugs you close. He wraps his other arm around your back, pulling your body on top of his.

“And what if I want to stay and love on you, eh?” He asks, hands moving to run up and down your back. “What would ever make you think I’d just want to get dressed and leave?”

“I don’t know.” You admit with a soft shrug, suddenly feeling shy now. “We’ve only been together a few weeks, and you were so quiet, I just thought…”

“Well, I think,” He says, moving one hand to cup your jaw while the other settles on your lower back, just at the base of your spine, “You need to stop thinking. Just… be here. With me.”

Your face and heart soften at the same time. You lower your head to press your lips to his, slow and lingering but neither of you deepen it. One of your hands finds the side of his neck as you pull away, and you can feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” His words are soft and he pulls you down to kiss you again, harder this time. “I want to stay here, with you, in your bed.” He breaks up his words with kisses and you melt like putty under his hands. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Your voice comes out breathy against his mouth, an octave higher than usual. You can feel his lips turn up into a smile, but when he pulls back, you realize it’s more of a smirk.

“Keep begging like that, baby, and you might never get me to leave.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[princessaffliction]

sweet nothings.

♡ info -> rafayel x you • 3.4k words • fluffy smut ♡ summary -> when rafayel returns home exhausted from a last-minute meeting which interrupted your date night plans, you decide your tired beloved deserves a little extra spoiling ♡ warnings -> MDNI, bratty as hell rafayel, crying (slight dacryphilia), overstim, handjobs, slightly too much plot for what was supposed to be smut

In your defense, the first time you make Rafayel cry during sex, it is unequivocally his fault.

Nothing about the evening is going right. First, you snap the strap on your heels and have to return to your apartment for a change of shoes. When you finally arrive to Rafayel's close to forty minutes late, you nearly collide head-first with him as he shoulders through the door. He doesn't have time to stop or explain why he's leaving beyond the words “last minute meeting, sorry,” a kiss pressed to each of your cheeks, and the suggestion that you wait for him to return. Judging by the scowl on his face, he's no more happy about the interruption to your date night plans than you are.

So much for a relaxing dinner to end the week for you both. Not that anything between the two of you ever goes to plan. In some ways its fitting that more often than not, your dates are foiled by unforeseen chaos. Maybe you'd been foolish to think this night would be different.

At least you don't have to feel guilty about being late.

You wander back and forth the span of his bedroom, alternating between basking in the warm summer breeze rising through the window and looking over a book he’d left open on his bed. It’s more of a magazine, filled with elegantly shot nature photography.

After just under an hour, the door opens and Rafayel strides through. Without a word of greeting, he collapses onto his settee in a flourish. You wait, expecting him to launch into an explanation of where he’s been, no doubt filled with his usual grumbling and colorful derision.

It doesn’t come.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, coming to stand at his side.

Rafayel sighs and drops an arm over his face.

"I’m alive if that's what your asking," he says, evidentially still capable of dramatics. "It's like the universe has a sixth sense for when I want an evening off."

He loosens his tie and tosses it haphazardly over the back of the sofa. You can't help but cringe as you watch the no doubt exorbitantly expensive silk material flutter to the floor.

His fingers close around your wrist, dragging your hand to his hair. "If you're going to stare, Miss Bodyguard, you might as well be of use."

Rolling your eyes, you oblige him and card your fingers through his hair. The violet waves glide smoothly below your touch.

"Your hair's really soft today."

For the dozenth time, you remind yourself to ask just what he uses to make it so unnaturally silky. Tara had been looking for a new hair product. Perhaps he'd have a suggestion you could pass along.

"So that means it's not always this soft, huh? And here I thought you liked my hair." Rafayel's brows pinch together. "I don't pay you to insult me, you know."

You don't bother pointing out that Rafayel doesn't pay you at all. Still, some of the tension has seeped out of his posture and his eyes flutter shut as you drag your nails lightly across his scalp. For all that he dislikes cats, in moments like this you can't help but compare him to one. Especially when your ministrations cease momentarily and he bumps his forehead into your palm, a demand that you resume petting him.

"That bad of a meeting, huh?"

Instantly, you regret your question as he tenses up once more. "Meetings at night should be illegal. What if I fell gravely ill from the cold?"

You don't bother pointing out that it's the best weather you've had in weeks. It doesn’t matter. You're certain there's something else on his mind, with the way his eyes flicker to yours before looking away.

"You feel fine to me." You press a hand to his forehead. "Clammy as usual."

His frown deepens. "Ha-ha."

"What's bothering you? You have meetings all the time. What made this one different?"

For a long moment he doesn't reply, dropping his head back against the arm of the sofa.

"Cat got your tongue?"

His eyes snap open. "You're quite the comedian tonight."

"Not a very good one apparently." You poke his cheek. "C'mon, what's got you so moody?"

He grumbles something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I've been invited to teach a summer course for promising youth at a prestigious art school," he repeats, as though doing so is a herculean effort.

"Wow, really? Rafayel, that's amazing."

He sits up, nearly hitting your foreheads together as he does. "Do you hear yourself? This is the worst thing that they could possibly ask of me."

"What? How so?" You neglect to point out that you’re almost certain he said the same thing about the last work request that was made of him.

He grimaces and shakes his head. "Kids are so loud."

"So you'll get along with them fine," you say, dryly.

"It's the whole summer. I'd be gone. For the entire summer."

"Yes, you mentioned that." You shrug. "If it’s a prestigious school and you’re the guest of honor, I'm certain that the accommodations will be up to your standards."

That's a white lie. It would be impossible for anyone to make a temporary living arrangement anywhere close to Rafayel's preferences without decimating their entire budget for the bathtub alone. Champagne tastes to say the least.

Even as you try to think of something else positive to say, you can't shake the twinge of disappointment in your chest. After all, you'd spent a good chunk of winter discussing all the things you wanted to do together this summer: the festivals and getaways. Trips to seaside cafes and museums. The exact hopes for the future you take comfort in on long nights of hunting wanderers or tackling the piles of paperwork you never seem to get to the bottom of.

"I still think it's something you should do," you say. "But I can admit that it's...a bit of a bummer too. We had a lot of plans that I was looking forward to."

"Finally you're making some sense," he huffs. "If you insist, then I'll cancel."

"That's not what I said!"

"Well, I'm still canceling." He folds his arms.

Were you to look up stubbornness in the dictionary, you're certain it would be this exact sight of Rafayel, his mouth pinched with determination.

"Canceling is not the answer."

"Maybe not to you."

"We'll just have to squeeze in a little extra fun, to make up for things."

He continues pouting, but you can see him straighten up ever so slightly. "And what is your idea of some 'extra' fun?"

"I've got time off that I need to use. Before, I'd planned on using my days this summer, but if you won't be around for part of it let's just move up the dates."

He purses his lips, clearly turning over his options in his mind. When you'd first met, no doubt he would have attempted to continue arguing, but now, he knows better. After all, if there's anyone who can rival his own stubbornness, it's you.

"Fine," he says. "But you better write to me."

You manage to keep from rolling your eyes. "I'm going to text you every day. You'll probably be sick of hearing from me."

"You say a lot of dumb things," he sighs.

"I guess you're rubbing off on me."

Rafayel opens his mouth before shutting it again. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the edge of the couch where it slips to the floor alongside his tie.

"I know we had planned to go out tonight," he says. "But I think stepping foot outside again might kill me. So if you really insist on me doing this summer program, it's probably for the best that we don't go to dinner."

That doesn't come as a surprise. By now, you were well aware of Rafayel's occasional need for solitude to decompress. You take a step back and glance around for your purse. If you head out now, you should still be able to pick up take out on your way back home and save yourself the trouble of cooking.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"Er, you want to be alone, right? To think?"

"Did I say that?" He looks away. "But if you want to leave then go ahead. I'm tired anyway."

Something in the resigned yet displeased look he casts your way makes it click together in your head:

"Are you upset because you're going to miss me?"

He starts to respond before grimacing, "You're still not funny."

Evidentially, leaving isn’t the right answer tonight, but talking doesn’t seem to be working either. You walk back to the settee and step within reach, looking down at him.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” you say. “Let's drop it for now.”

Rafayel doesn’t answer but stands and unceremoniously strides to his bed, dropping down onto the plush duvet. A handful of his many throw pillows bounce off of the mattress to scatter on the floor. How he manages not to trip on a daily basis is still a mystery to you. Careful not to step on any of the intricately embroidered cushions, you make your way over and lie down beside him.

His eyes remain closed so you take the moment to examine your beloved. He really is a sight to behold. Pretty, like a statue crafted with a delicacy that would take a thousand years...and yet, as changeable as the sea itself, with movement beneath the surface. Despite the time you’ve spent together, there are moments when he still feels far away. Like a story written in a language you don’t know. Or worse, that you’ve forgotten.

He cracks an eye to peer at you, still frowning. Even among the ridiculously soft bedspread, you can read the tension in him. You reach up and cup his cheek. There’s no words that are going to fix things for now.

However, perhaps words are the not the form of communication most suited to a night like this.

Rafayel stares at you, waiting. You run your thumb along his cheekbone, down his jaw, and over his bottom lip that is stuck out in a near-pout once more. It feel as inevitable as the tide when your mouths meet, a territory so familiar you’re unsure who leaned in to kiss who.

“You can’t win me over with kisses,” he says, pulling back after a few minutes.

The dark, blown-wide look of his pupils would argue otherwise, but you refrain from pointing out as much.

“Alright.”

Rafayel leans closer and takes one of your hands, manipulating your fingers gently to pop the top button on his shirt.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try it though,” he says.

You kiss him again, rolling your eyes as you do so.

One more kiss turns into another dozen, accompanied by your fingers undoing his shirt and belt buckle. It ends with you sitting against the headboard and Rafayel laid bare. He's sprawled along the mattress, his back to your chest. Not a typical arrangement for you but tonight you can't shake the desire to smooth away some of his stress. To spoil him, despite knowing there's perhaps no better word to describe your love than ‘spoiled’ already. Not that you mind. You wouldn't change him, not for the world.

He's all long limbs like this, reflective scales surfacing as he comes back down from his orgasm. You press a kiss to the side of his head, his temple slightly sweaty. As fond as he is of messy sex while it's happening, Rafayel is less keen on the ensuing tackiness afterward. Usually one of you will think to grab a washcloth to clean up, but thinking didn't seem to be in the cards for either of you tonight.

You shift to climb off the bed and go in search of tissues but his hand on your arm stops you.

“Everything, okay?”

He swallows, throat bobbing."Again, please?"

Despite the mess on his stomach and chest, a glance reveals that he's still achingly hard. His cock lays rosy and eager against his hip. Gently, you wrap your fingers around him once more. As soon as you do he's squirming from the overstimulation. You can't tell if he's trying to rut into your touch or rid himself of it.

"Are you sure?" you ask, pausing in spite of his demand. "You just came."

"It’s not enough tonight," he pants. "More, please."

You can’t help but enjoy his desperation a little. As though he’s forgotten how utterly incapable you are of not indulging him when he looks at you like that. Like you are the sole being responsible for the push and pull of the tides. The person keeping the very world on its axis.

“So you do now how to ask for things nicely,” you say, relishing in your ability to work him up to the point he recalls manners.

“So mean.”

“Am I mean or are you just bossy?” you shoot back.

Rafayel doesn’t answer aside from a needy sound as you squeeze around the base of his cock. His head drops back onto your shoulder. Painful or not, he seems to be enjoying himself, his hips twitching to chase your hand whenever you draw it up his length once more.

“I’m honestly just surprised that you’re so worked up.”

He twists in a half-hearted attempt to bury his face in your throat. You don’t let him, using your free hand to catch his chin and force him to meet your gaze.

Rafayel looks as lovely as you’ve ever seen him. His cheeks are flushed, bottom lip bitten ruby. His eyes, though bright, are red-rimmed. Tears that haven’t yet spilled pooling in the corners and clinging to his dark lashes.

“Raf—”

He interrupts you before you can ask if he’s alright. “Please don’t stop.”

His hand covers yours as though to ensure you don’t let go, even though you have no intention too. He guides you to stroke along his cock more firmly than before. As you do, his lips part, desperate whimpers spilling free.

“Of course not, I won’t,” you assure him. “You’re really pretty like this.” The words that have been vying to slip free all night popping out before you can overthink them.

His cock throbs in your grasp. You don't bother to hide the grin which spreads across your face. Rafayel’s blush only deepens and he squirms in your arms.

You should have put two and two together prior to now. How could your beloved not like praise? After all, you’d seen the way his eyes would light up when you complimented him, even if he would deny it, or play it off as expected, no, entitled.

You were learning a lot of things tonight it would seem.

Craning your neck slightly, you lean closer so that you can speak into his ear.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting? For me to say sweet things to you?”

“No,” he says, bucking into your hand.

“No?” You let go of his cock and he whines at the loss of contact. “But look at the mess you’re making already.”

It’s true, your hand is slick with precum, more leaking down the flushed shaft. He was telling the truth before: none of it seems to be enough for him tonight. Rafayel does his best to muster a glare, though the effect is diminished by the sheer need written across his face.

“Come on, ask me,” you murmur and return your hand to where he wants you most. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

The renewed attention earns you a choked out moan and fresh tears cutting their way down his cheeks.

“Please, please keep talking, I can’t—”

“Shh, of course, I will.”

So you do. You let all of the sweet things you’ve thought but not said to him run over in a babble of praise. You tell him how much you adore him. How gorgeous he looks. How good he is. How lucky you feel to be able to have him in your arms, in your life. Every single thing you would normally think twice about saying, lest they bring down a tidal wave of mischief upon you.

It’s too much for him and soon Rafayel’s shaking. He clutches at your arm, words slurred, “It’s too much, I’m going to come, fuck, I—”

“It’s alright, my love.” You lean down and fit your mouths together.

Rafayel kisses you back clumsily before letting out a bitten-off moan. He throbs in your hand, spilling his second release of the night onto his stomach with a sob.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, holding him close as he shivers through the aftershocks. For a long moment there’s nothing but the quiet sounds of the distant city and his shaky exhales as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

“Was that—”

He cuts you off. “You know how much I’m going to miss you, right?”

Even though it’s said with little inflection, you catch the undercurrent of nerves.

“I know.”

He swallows. “And you know I love you?”

“I do.”

Despite the fact that you’re impossibly close, he manages to press closer to you somehow. “So you won’t forget me while I’m away for the summer?”

“Do you really think I could forget you?”

He doesn’t answer, so you press another kiss against the shell of his ear.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here when you get back,” you say.

Rafayel lets out a long breath, the last bit of tension slipping away from him. The pair of you lay there for another long moment, before he shifts, pushing himself up with shaky arms.

“Sticky.” He grimaces as he uses his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess on his chest.

“And whose fault is that?”

Somehow, despite the fact that he’s still pink-cheeked with pleasure, he manages to look offended.

“Yours,” he pronounces, lurching up to stand on wobbly legs. “Now, since it’s your job, Miss Bodyguard, I assume you’ll come and make sure I don’t get attacked by Wanderers while I take a bath?”

"We should probably bathe together, just to be safe." You stretch and climb to your feet as well. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught unaware. You’d be like a fish out of water.”

“Still not funny,” he says, turning away, but not before you can get a glimpse of him smiling.

You slip an arm around his waist, tugging him towards your side.

“I can walk you know.” It’s a halfhearted protest as he allows himself to be led toward the bathroom.

“Tell that to your knees,” you reply. “Besides, we don’t need you to get taken out by another paintbrush on the floor like last time.”

Before he can reply you press your lips to his, drowning his witty comeback with a kiss.

Summer might not go the way either of you had planned, but if tonight is any indication, you’ll be able to make up for it.

[punksyeet]

- Inked ❥

Plot: Four letters. One word. Ugh, ugh. Tats.

Warning: Hefty flirting & lots of kisses!

A/N: ngl i’ve had this fic sitting untouched in the drafts for a little while now, but when jey posted that delicious back shot yesterday, i took it as a sign. enjoy! 🖤

———————————————————————————————

“you headed out for the night?” my co-worker, jayla, asks, beginning to sterilize her equipment.

i nod, untying my bun and letting my curls run free. “hell yeah, girl. i’m beat.”

she giggles, nodding in agreement. “we did have a lot more walk-ins today than usual.”

i’ve been tattooing for a little over five years now.

and while it’s the most fun job in the world, it can also be super draining.

for a little backstory, growing up, i drew every chance i got.

on my chalkboard that i’d use to teach my (very finely educated) stuffed animals, in my notebooks during boring high school classes, you name it.

and the second i graduated, somehow acing all of those said classes, my grandpa brought me to his tattoo shop daily to shadow him and learn about his samoan culture.

now, years later, he’s no longer with us and i’m studying art in college, as well as working part time at a downtown new york tattoo shop.

throughout these five years, i’ve worked on some of the biggest polynesian names in wrestling: both of the uso twins, solo sikoa, tama tonga, and even jacob fatu.

my grandpa was super close with the entire fatu - anoa’i family, so it’s a huge honor to be trusted by all of them with something that’s so important to our culture and heritage.

“hey, isn’t that big convention at javits this weekend?” jayla asks, causing me to look up from fixing my hoodie strings and nod.

“fanatics fest yeah,” i reply. “why?”

her eyelids lower into a mischievous look, as she begins moving her eyebrows up and down.

i pop my neck back in confusion. “bitch, why are you looking at me like that?”

“isn’t your lover boy booked for saturday?” she replies, poking at my side.

“first of all,” i exclaim, folding my arms across my chest. “he’s not my lover boy. we’re just having fun, that’s all.”

she hums and mocks my action, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. “and second?”

“second of all,” i continue. “did you not see how many times he sold out all of his shit? that man is gonna be booked and busy.”

“girl,” she exasperates, leaning back in her chair. “that man never misses an opportunity to see you. whenever he comes out here, his ass is always walking through this door with his tongue hanging out, just waiting to get his hands on you.”

“his tongue is not hanging out!” i scold, playfully shoving her arm.

“it basically is!” she scolds back between giggles, hitting me back playfully.

i sigh, sliding my purse onto my shoulder.

“seriously girl,” she continues, getting up to throw away her gloves and ink-filled paper towels. “that man is more whipped for you than whipped cream.”

i let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “well, the energy is reciprocated. and i’d love to see him this weekend. but if it’s not possible, i won’t be mad either. he’s booked and busy. and i love that for him.”

she dramatically sticks her bottom lip out and dabs away invisible tears. “loving watching your future husband succeed. it’s adorable!”

“bitch i’m leaving!” i tease, turning towards the door.

she bursts into laughter and playfully whacks my butt. “have a good night, girl. text me when you get home!”

“i will!” i call out, leaving and letting the door close behind me.

my journey home is peaceful, barely any traffic on the highway.

and as if on cue, the second i enter the driveway and shut my car off, my text tone dings.

i send a text over to jayla, as promised, before heading inside and getting ready for the night.

———————————————————————————————

it’s been another long shift of appointments and a couple walk-ins.

i’m exhausted, and i can confidently say that the only thing keeping me going all day has been the thought of reuniting with him.

“alright i’m outta here girl,” jayla announces, gathering her car keys and purse. “have fun with your man.”

i shoot her a death glare, to which she responds with blowing me a kiss and darting out the door.

i roll my eyes, smiling, and get back to disinfecting my chair.

just minutes later, the sound of the shop’s front door being pulled open and sneakers squeaking against the tile floor make my heart stop in my throat.

he’s here.

“appointment with the finest lady in the world?” josh calls out.

i roll my eyes, a smirk plastered on my lips. “no problem. let me go get her.”

he snickers, places two starbucks cups down on the counter, and walks over, immediately pulling me in for a hug.

his woodsy, almost vanilla like scent fills my nose as i rest my chin on his shoulder.

“missed you bae,” he exclaims, his hands lingering my waist as we pull away.

“i missed you too,” i reply, running my hands through his curls. “how’s everything been?”

he nods, licking his lower lip. “been good. how bout you, ma? you look good.”

“thank you,” i reply sweetly, heat immediately rushing to my cheeks. “been busy, but i’m managing.”

he smiles softly. “hell yeah you are, baby. i’m proud of you.”

i smile back and place a quick kiss on his lips.

“got your usual by the way,” he announces, tucking a curl behind my ear, nodding towards our drinks. “you still like that shit with enough caramel to make you drop dead after the first sip, right?”

i roll my eyes, playfully swatting his arm. “you’re such a hater.”

his smile turns into a smirk, gently pulling me in by my face for another kiss.

“come on playboy,” i exclaim, taking his hand and leading us to the chair once we pull away. “let’s finish that back.”

he chuckles, stopping once we get there to remove his shirt.

my panties are immediately soaked at the sight of his body, his biceps and chest about ten times bigger than the last time i saw him.

“like what you see, girl?” he teases, flexing his arms. “been workin’ out just for you.”

fuck he’s huge.

“don’t flatter yourself big boy,” i lie, rolling my eyes.

he smirks and lays down flat on his stomach, getting comfy on the chair.

i take a seat next to him and, as i’m putting a fresh set of gloves on, he looks over, laying his head on top of his folded arms.

i wipe down the area we’re about to work on with a baby wipe, before turning on my tattoo gun, the buzzing sound immediately filling the room.

“look at you with all your supplies n shit,” he coos, watching me. “you look like such a pro, baby.”

i smile at the compliment, kiss his temple as a thank you, and pull up instagram to begin my livestream.

he whips out his phone and joins immediately, angling it against the backrest so he can watch it.

“hey everyone!” i greet my already hundreds of viewers.

a bunch of his fangirls immediately flood the comments.

Omg I know that back from anywhere! 😻

HI JEYYY 🥹

The duo is back 🙂‍↕️❤️

FOUR LETTERS ONE WORD UGH UGH YEET 😍🙌🏼

His back 🥵🥵

he chuckles, watching the comments roll by.

i begin the process, stretching out his skin with one hand and free-drawing with the other.

about ten minutes in, he joins the live as a guest to show his angle and the comments go nuts.

JEYYYYY 🥹😍

The man of the hour and he looks so fine! 😮‍💨🤤

YEET! 🙌🏼❤️

“wassup yall? yeet!” he greets them, gritting his teeth to show off his gold grillz.

i smile to myself, listening to him interact with fans.

one question catches my attention though.

“don’t yall think they would be so cute together?” he reads the comment aloud.

i look up and raise an eyebrow at the camera. “bold of y’all to assume i’d ever date his goofy ass.”

his jaw practically drops open and i snicker in response, playfully whacking his butt.

the comments laugh at my response, quickly agreeing and dissing josh for his goofiness.

he sucks his teeth, laying his head back down. “man, yall are some damn bullies.”

eventually, we end the live and i lean over to grab his face and kiss him.

he kisses back, making sure to blow raspberries onto my lips before pulling away.

“bitch you’re gross!” i yell, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.

he laughs, digging his face into his arms before i can wipe it back onto him.

———————————————————————————————

“this shit straight fire mama,” josh compliments, flexing his back in one of the full body mirrors.

i smile, watching him, while taking off my gloves. “it looks amazing.”

“it really do,” he agrees, pulling out his phone to take selfies. “you did your thing with this, bae.”

i blush at the compliment, sitting back down to sterilize my tools. “thank you.”

“nah thank you,” he replies, walking up from behind me and wrapping his arms around me. “your talent is crazy, you know. gramps taught you well.”

my smile grows even wider, doing my very best to blink back tears. “that means the world to me, baby. thank you.”

he smiles and leans in, pressing a deep kiss to my temple.

i lean into his touch and reach up with one hand to hold his face, turning it to mine, and press my lips to his.

“you know i love you, right?” he asks once we pull away.

i nod, biting my lower lip. “mhm. i love you too.”

i brush our noses together before looking back down and finishing up cleaning.

by the time i’m done, josh is back in the mirror, admiring the finished piece all over again.

“you gonna let me wrap that up within the next hour?” i tease, folding my arms across my chest.

he chuckles, walking back over.

i grab some plastic wrap, just enough to cover the newest section, and stick multiple layers to his skin.

once he’s all good to go, he thanks me and puts his shirt back on.

“now,” he begins as we walk back up to the front of the shop. “how much do i owe your pretty self?”

he pulls out his wallet from his sweatpants pocket while saying that last part.

“josh,” i reply, throwing my purse over my shoulder. “babe, we do this every time. you know my grandpa never liked to charge you or your family. so i won’t either.”

he sighs, stepping closer. “baby, this shit took hours. i wanna take care of you. you deserve it.”

i shake my head, cupping his face. “it’s really okay. i promise.”

he smiles softly and leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“at least lemme take you out for some dinner?” he suggests, stroking my sides.

i pucker my lips to the side, rubbing his biceps. “waffle house?”

his smile widens, a mischievous look coming over his eyes. “you know me so well.”

i giggle as he pulls me in for yet another kiss.

“let’s roll pretty girl,” he says, holding out his hand.

i take it and we head out.

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uceyjucey Tuff. 🩸 #YeeTAF

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[izzyy-stuff]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

IN WHICH after waking up to a song playing outside of your window as if you were in a corny romance movie, you get to meet Choi Beomgyu, a boy so desperately in love that he drove across town to confess his love, just to find out he did so outside of the wrong house.

pairing– Choi Beomgyu x fem!reader

featuring– txt members, original characters, Heeseung and Jake of enhypen

genre– fluff, angst, suggestive — mature talks, topics, but no explicit smut

contains– band member!Beomgyu, nerd!Beomgyu, nerd!reader, school setting BUT EVERYONE IS OF AGE, reader works at a convenience store, Beomgyu has a crush on someone else at first, party + drinking on said party, reader lives with her parents, both parents mentioned, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, reader is able to play basketball, reader wearing a skirt, 10 things I hate about you mentions

word count– 18.2k

↪ izzy speaks... ahh my baby is finally here! I love writing fluff, it's how I was made to be—a girl that writes happy stories. I really think serenade is a cute one, and I'm so glad I decided to do it with Beomgyu, my love <3 I want to say thank you to Mae again for helping me with editing this, you saved my life <3 I also want to thank Adel—for always listening to my yaps about my stories and helping me sort out my thoughts. And everyone reading this. My stories happen because of y'all. :3

playlist | masterlist

It’s been a while since you’ve had a good night’s sleep. However, you knew that the moment your face hit the pillow and the exhaustion from the long week settled in, tonight was going to be the day. There was no need for you to wake up early tomorrow, and you were going to take advantage of that, ready to sleep throughout the entire morning. 

But your plans on catching up onto your messed up sleep schedule fail once again when the guitar reaches your ears, stirring you awake. Then, the soft voice follows right after, making you rub your eyes with the back of your hand, glancing at the time on your phone. 8:12. There goes your dream of sleeping in. 

You make it out of the bed, searching for where the sound is coming from. It couldn’t be your house, you’d have to own a guitar for that first. Once you reach your window and look outside to see a boy with a guitar, it all starts making sense. 

Well actually, it makes even less sense. 

You scan his figure, watching his brown hair fall in front of his eyes as he plays the instrument, a bike lying right beside his feet. You blink confusedly, listening to the soft melody you don’t recognize. And even though you can’t seem to wrap your head around why he is standing outside your house and singing a love song, it does sound amazing. His voice combined with the soft chords of the guitar warm your heart, causing you to open the window fully to see and hear better. 

As soon as you do, his eyes lock with yours and he freezes. The song stops, his fingers stilled on the guitar strings as he scans your face, quickly looking around as if he was searching for someone. You both blink confusedly when your eyes meet again, trying to see what the hell is happening. He clears his throat first, awkwardly running his hand through his hair. “Is– Uhm, is Yuna here?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “Who?” You question, watching his cheeks turn red, probably from embarrassment. “Kim Yuna? I uhm, isn’t this her house?” 

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Of course this poor boy is confessing his love under your window for a different girl. You don’t know him, obviously, but it still manages to hit. “Are you from Haneul Academy?” You scan him all over again, getting your answer in the form of a slight nod. You nod as well, everything falling in pieces together. Kim Yuna, the one person you despise. Yeah, she definitely doesn’t live in your house. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. She doesn’t even live on this street.” If his cheeks were red before, he doesn’t want to know what his face looks like now. It’s so utterly embarrassing. What was he even thinking about? Riding the bike with a guitar on his back on a Saturday morning to sing a love song for someone he wasn’t dating was already stupid enough, but this? This was terrible. 

He moves around busily, grabbing his bike so quickly that his guitar almost breaks as it bumps into it. You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but you can’t find the right words. What are you supposed to say? Hey, it’s all good, at least you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of anyone else? You sigh, watching him get on his bike while mumbling soft, messy apologies without looking you in the eyes. He almost manages to fall off it when he fixes his guitar, but quickly gets himself back together, running away as if he’s just robbed a bank. 

You watch him go from your bedroom window, your eyes softening just slightly. You feel bad for him, honestly. You’re sure he feels embarrassed, you would too, but a part of you thinks this might actually be better for him. 

You know Yuna briefly. You’ve never talked to her outside of school, and even then, it was just when she wanted to borrow your notes before a test, but you still knew enough. A social butterfly with friends everywhere she looks, always around someone, no matter who it is. Her grades aren’t anything impressive, just average, and still, people seem to love her for a reason unknown to you. She’s pretty, you have to give her that, but you always believed in looking for more in a person, which leaves you confused on how it’s possible she is always dating someone. 

Maybe she isn’t a bad person, you can’t know that, but you know she cheats her way through exams every semester, that she’s got a few upper classmates wrapped around her finger enough for them to always get her into the front of the line at the cafeteria, that she has started the ‘pretty contest’ in her first year just so the guys could rate girls at school for their own pleasure, and that much was definitely enough for you to dislike her. 

You step away from the window, lingering for just a second before jumping into your bed again, your hands resting on your stomach as you stare at the ceiling, replaying the song in your head with a soft hum of the melody. You close your eyes shortly after, falling back into the dream realm, where you see the unknown boy again, singing a song only you could hear. 

You regret signing up for an afternoon shift as soon as you step inside the store, your manager barely greeting you before running off, mumbling something about not being able to wait to get home and watch the football game. You settle behind the cash register, stretching your arms above your head. 

It’s shortly after that the real work starts and you see customers walking in. It feels okay until people start asking you for help while you have a line at the cash register, trying your best to explain to them where they can find the product while scanning items of the person in front of you. They’re usually understanding, letting you do what you need and willing to wait a while, but there are also occasions where you get yelled at for being too slow or being a mess, making you clench your jaw. It’s not a hard job and it pays you good money, that’s why you like it so much, but people like that always make you want to quit. 

Thankfully, it slows down before you can lose your mind and never come back. You breathe out in relief, sitting down in your chair and unlocking your phone. There’s ten minutes left before you can leave and you just pray no one else comes in. If you’re lucky, the manager gets here earlier and lets you leave even before your shift fully ends. 

But of course, it’s not the manager that walks in. You raise your head and place your phone aside, your eyes widening when you see the same black zip up hoodie you did this morning. His hands are in his pockets, his feet leading him to a ramen alley before he can even notice you. 

You watch him from your place, debating if it’s better to leave him alone and hope he doesn’t recognize you or approach him. Eventually, when he walks to the cash register to pay, you settle for the latter. “Hi,” you greet him awkwardly, scanning his cup of ramen. His eyes meet yours and his cheeks immediately turn pink, making him avert his eyes again as he greets you back. You smile, hoping to make it somehow less awkward while telling him his total. He places the exact amount in front of you and grabs his food, hesitating for a second. “I’m sorry, again,” he mumbles, raising his head again. 

Your eyes soften a bit when you catch the blush hiding behind his glasses and messy hair, obviously still flustered. “I didn’t…did I wake you up?” He wonders when he remembers you standing in the window in your pajamas with your hair slightly ruffled from sleep. You shrug, putting the money away into the register before turning your head back to him. “Yeah but it’s fine, I wanted to wake up early anyway,” you lie so he doesn’t feel even worse, watching him hum in response. 

“Can I, uhm, do you want anything from the store? Like coffee or ice cream? I…feel bad,” he admits, his eyes more sincere than you thought possible. You think about it, trying to see what the correct answer is, but when you figure there isn’t one, you just nod. “Coffee would be nice,” you agree, and before he can walk away to find a cup, you extend your hand towards him, your name slipping past your lips. He smiles, still awkward, as he shakes your hand, repeating your name inside his head to memorize it. “Choi Beomgyu.” 

Your manager steps inside the store just as you collect the money for your coffee from Beomgyu. You smile at him, stepping out and making space for him at the register so he can lock it. It’s been around a year since you started working here and for some reason, he still doesn’t want you closing. At first, you found it weird, worried about what you did wrong, but then you learnt he is like that with every one of his part timers, no matter how long he’s known them for. His trust issues are bad, but honestly you can’t blame him. He’s just being careful. 

Beomgyu stands on the side awkwardly, debating if this was his cue to leave. Your manager seems to catch onto that because his eyes flicker from him to you before sighing. “Yeah, you’re all good for today. Feel free to leave with your little boyfriend.” There were so many things wrong with the sentence, but you didn’t have a chance to correct him before Beomgyu hands you your drink, offering to walk you home since it’s dark outside. 

You walk side by side, sipping on your coffee without a single word. You’re not sure if he minds or not. With his hands in his pockets again and his eyes glued to the ground beneath his feet, it’s hard to tell. “You don’t have to walk me home,” you mumble, making him look up. “It’s okay. I know where you live now anyway,” he jokes, but his laugh doesn’t sound entirely convincing, more like regretting. 

“How did you end up there?” You wonder, watching the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. You narrow your eyes, trying your best to read him. “I’ve got the address from one of Yuna’s friends—Jia. I asked her for it last week, I doubt she moved out in the last few days and you started living there instead, though.” He kicks a few rocks on the ground and you nod. “Lived there my whole life,” you let him know and he hums. “I was stupid,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like it’s something he expected deep down. 

You’re not sure what to say or do. People never have a right or wrong answer, but most of the time, you can still tell what they expect from you or what they want to hear by the tone of their voice, by the way they stand, or any other body language. Beomgyu doesn’t give you any clues, though. 

“Do you…like her a lot?” You ask instead, the words feeling sour on your lips. He seems to think for a second, weighing his pros and cons. “We’ve spoken twice,” he mumbles, blowing some air on his forehead to get his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t exactly know her, to be honest, but yeah, I do like her.” 

“Why?” The question comes out more judging than you’d want it to but either he doesn’t notice, or simply doesn’t care. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “She was nice when we spoke. It surprised me. I never expected a girl like her to look my way, let alone ask me about music and when our performances are.” 

“A girl like what?” You frown, quickly masking it by taking another sip. “A pretty girl,” he says casually, and when he senses you quiet down, his eyes widen, quickly shaking his hands in the air to correct himself. “Which isn’t supposed to mean that the girls that do talk to me normally are ugly. Not that many girls talk to me. I– uhm– I think everyone is pretty, in their own way. She just is kind of out of my league, you know? And that makes me even stupider for thinking there would be a chance but–” 

“Calm down,” you interrupt his panicking, a snicker escaping your lips. He’s blushing again and it’s honestly kind of cute. “If you think you’re stupid, then you probably have a chance with her, she likes that kind.” He rolls his eyes at your comment, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, making your lips curl up into a smile. You’re glad he understands a joke and doesn’t attack you immediately—which is something you’re sure all of the boys she keeps around herself would do. 

“Sorry for the rambling. I don’t exactly know how you’re supposed to talk to girls,” he admits, making you chuckle. You let the conversation settle into a comfortable silence again, thinking about everything he’s said until now. The longer you spend with him, the less he makes sense to you. He’s nice, calm, quiet, innocent and pure, so why does he look at someone like Yuna? You can’t wrap your head around it. There’s a specific type of guys she’s dated, from what you observed, always the exact opposite of what Beomgyu is. 

“The song is really nice by the way,” you proclaim, finishing your drink. “What song?” He asks confusedly, processing your sentence for a second before he connects the dots, his eyes widening. “It’s cringe,” he corrects you, averting his eyes again in embarrassment. “Do you really think that?” — “Yeah,” he nods, but you don’t believe him. To you, it seems more like he’s building up a wall in case you were going to agree, change your mind and say it’s the worst song you’ve ever heard. 

“Well, I think it’s really good,” you assure him. “It’s been playing on repeat in my head.” 

“Really?” He blinks hopefully, your smile widening as you nod. “Yeah. You wrote it, right?” 

“I did,” he agrees, biting back his smile. “It’s stupid, though, isn’t it? Writing a song for a girl that I know will reject me.” 

“You keep saying that you’re stupid and that what you do is stupid,” you mumble, shaking your head slightly. “But I don’t think that’s right.” He seems caught off guard by your words, struggling to find the right answer. 

“I’m not stupid,” he says finally, tilting his head slightly with a sigh. “But I make decisions like that, sometimes.” 

“You think liking her is one of them?” He doesn’t even rethink his answer before nodding, mumbling something about a hierarchy in popularity and the slim chances of her liking him back. When you ask why he decided to confess then, if he’s so sure he doesn’t have any chances with her, he tells you about how his friends boosted his ego the night before and he ended up believing in himself more. You listen closely, thinking about how it’d feel to be in his position. 

After learning about Beomgyu’s crush and the way he sees Yuna, you naturally shift the conversation to something lighter, something that you’ve been wondering about and you know he won’t mind talking about—music. 

He tells you about his band, the process behind his song writing and how he got into music at first, making you smile as you listen to his story on your way home. Honestly, you could have been home at least ten minutes ago, but for some reason, you didn’t want to leave. You enjoy talking to him, seeing his viewpoint on certain stuff and listening to his soft voice, making you take a longer route just to be with him longer. 

You don’t think he minds, his laugh and stories making you think he likes being around you just as much as you do. 

Once you do finally reach your house, Beomgyu stops mid step, smiling awkwardly again as he stands in the exact same place he did this morning. You smile back at him, glancing at the house, the soft light in the living room window letting you know your parents are there. “Thank you for the coffee.” He shakes his head slightly, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “Thank you for liking my song. Possibly more than the person it was meant for.” Somehow, he doesn’t sound sad. In fact, it’s almost like he’s making fun of the situation now. 

“Good night, Beomgyu,” you smile gently, his lips forming the same grin. “Good night.” 

You feel exhausted by the time lunch comes around on monday, the lack of sleep from the previous night finally getting to you. Still, it feels worth it when you know it helped you do well on today’s tests. Sometimes, you question if it’s really necessary to do all this for some grades, but after another success, your worries wash off and everything makes sense again. 

You walk through the full cafeteria, looking for a table to sit at, when your eyes fall to a familiar face, his lips turning into a soft smile when he notices you. You smile back at him but don’t move, still trying to find a table—preferably one that is empty. You’re not sure what Beomgyu’s smile means, if it’s an invitation to sit with him and his friend, but you don’t want to risk the embarrassment if it’s not. 

But no matter how closely you look, you find nothing, your feet slowly bringing you to his table anyway. “Mind if I sit here?” You ask carefully and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate moving to create space for you. You slide beside him, smiling awkwardly as a form of gratitude. “Sorry for interrupting– Taehyun?” You blink when your eyes land on the boy opposite you, recognizing him from one of the math competitions the school held just a few weeks ago. He greets you warmly, even though the confusion in his voice is obvious. 

“Oh, wait,” his eyes widen in realization, flickering between you and Beomgyu. “Are you the girl he ambushed?” — “I didn’t ambush anyone!” Beomgyu argues immediately, his cheeks turning red after realizing how loud he must have been just now. “Of course not,” Taehyun scoffs. “You just sang a love song–” 

“Alright, shut up,” Beomgyu interrupts him, glancing at you apologetically. You shake your head with a light chuckle, brushing it off. “I’ve already told you it’s fine.” 

“He’s lucky it was you, honestly,” Taehyun comments between bites. You raise an eyebrow, blinking confusedly. He simply shrugs, “There are hundreds of students here, if Jia gave him the address of, like Minseo, a video of him would be trending all over the internet by now, and he’ll never have a chance again.” Beomgyu buries his head in the table, practically hiding under it with a groan as his friend continues embarrassing him. You do think he has a point, though. Meeting you was definitely on the lower side of all the embarrassing scenarios that could have happened. 

“You both seriously need to shut up before the whole school finds out,” Beomgyu grumbles, looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on you. You shake your head, opening your mouth to tease him further, but before you can, he kicks you under the table. You hiss, but instead of yelling at him, you confusedly watch his face turn redder and his eyes follow someone behind you. You carefully turn around, watching Yuna walk past to her usual table. You look at Beomgyu again, your eyes softening when you manage to read his eyes—broken, desperate, lost. 

A heavy sigh leaves his lips when she disappears from his sight, his eyes focusing on you and Taehyun again. You both give him a knowing look that he doesn’t seem to understand. “What? I’m just… I was looking for Soobin!” He comes up with an excuse quickly, making Taehyun scoff. “I completely forgot he doesn’t have lunch for another hour.” 

“Right, as if.” Beomgyu closes his mouth again, knowing arguing with him is pointless. Beomgyu knew he was smart, always on top of the class, but Taehyun was on a different level. It was no use trying to outsmart him. 

You hesitate, rethinking the situation again before finally placing down your utensils, turning to face Beomgyu. “I’ll help you,” you state, his eyes scanning your face confusedly. “With?” — “With your crush.” 

He doesn’t have time to ask you what you mean before you continue, the confidence in your voice scaring him slightly. “I think there is a chance for you. We just have to work on some things.” 

“Like?” Taehyun urges, the tone of his voice giving away that he doesn’t believe in what you’ve planned. “Getting him into things she likes,” you say confidently. “If they have more things in common, it’ll be easier for them to talk, ergo he needs to find out what she likes and then apply it to himself. Think of it like a test. If you prepare well enough, you won’t need to worry about failing.” 

When you put it that way, Beomgyu doesn’t think it’s completely impossible. And even though you can see Taehyun doesn’t agree, as long as Beomgyu does, you can be useful. “I have a group project with Minseo,” you inform them, frowning slightly at the thought. Group projects were never something you loved, especially if you were paired with people who didn’t care about their grades. On the very first day it was assigned, you asked Minseo when she was free to research information and she straight up asked you to do it on your own, mumbling something about her head hurting every time she thinks for too long. 

You hated being paired up with her, but it could be useful now at least. “I can figure out what Yuna likes through her. It won’t be too hard.” The hard part will be convincing her to meet with you. But once you do, you’re certain to get the information out of her. After all, she’s always been known to be an open book. 

“Good luck with that,” Taehyun shakes his head, getting up. “Don’t turn him into a completely different person in the process, I’d hate to be his friend if he turns into one of the football jocks she seems to be dating all the time.” Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention, barely mumbling a bye back as his eyes find Yuna again, watching her laugh with her group of friends a few tables away. 

“Let’s do it,” he agrees, turning his head to you again. “Let’s try what we can.” 

Getting Minseo to meet up with you was actually easier than you expected. She did have a bunch of excuses at first, but after you told her you would buy her ice coffee and take care of the presentation fully on your own, she agreed. 

So now, you were sitting in a campus café, waiting for her arrival with Beomgyu a few tables away. You told him you would handle it alone, but he insisted, saying that he needed to know immediately. You didn’t see a point in arguing with him, letting him tag along if that was what he wanted to do. You could see that he was nervous, fidgeting with his fingers on top of the table. Seeing him like this was what made you want to help. Because even though you couldn’t say you would wish Beomgyu someone like Yuna, you do think he deserves to be loved just like everyone else. Who he chooses to be loved by is not for you to decide. 

It is Friday now, almost two weeks since you’ve met him for the first time. You’ve learnt that he isn’t as shy as you thought he was at first when he started greeting you in the hallways as if you were friends for years, inviting you to sit with him, Taehyun, and occasionally Soobin every day for lunch. He was nice, and whenever he talked about his music like it was the love of his life, you found yourself smiling, listening to every word. 

You sip on your coffee, eyes locked onto the iced latte opposite you. She was five minutes late already. Taking out your phone to text her and ask her if she is on her way, you notice a different message, from no one else but Beomgyu. You look his way, telling him to shut up with your eyes. He’s telling you to sit still and hold on for a while longer, reminding you that girls like Minseo don’t care about other people enough to be on time but will always show up eventually. You can see that he’s worried you might just get up and leave and this whole plan would go to vain, and you hate that he can read you so well because that’s exactly what you wanted to do. 

You sigh, putting your phone face down on the table and staring a hole into the café door, waiting for your project partner to show up. 

When she finally turns up, your coffee cup is almost empty. You watch her walk in with a smile on her face, one so fake you want to pretend it’s not directed at you. But she sits down on the chair opposite you and you can’t pretend she’s not there with you anymore. “Hey,” you offer a soft greeting that she brushes off, taking a sip of her latte. “This is good, is that vanilla?” She wonders, watching the glass with amusement. “I– yeah,” you blink. “You asked for vanilla when we talked yesterday.” 

“Right,” she nods, narrowing her eyes at you as if she was trying to remember who you were. It was annoying. “Why am I here actually?” Minseo tilts her head slightly, a small gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s weird talking to her like this, even more so knowing that the first real interaction you have with her is being watched by someone who believes in you more than he probably should. 

“I wrote the paper and I know your head hurts when you study for too long, but I just need you to read it to have a general idea of what it’s about and sign yourself under it so we can say you contributed to the work,” you explain just like you prepared earlier with the guys at lunch. She hums, not saying anything in protest as you hand her the two pieces of paper. You can see the disgust in her face but as long as she doesn’t say anything, you won’t either. That’s not really why you’re there anyway. 

You start the conversation slowly, asking her about a boy from the basketball team you heard she’s been seeing. At first, you were worried it wouldn’t work, that she would think you were weird for asking her about things like this as that’s what you would do if a stranger asked you about your personal life, but she casually starts answering your questions, the excitement in her voice when she has an excuse to stop reading the paper obvious. 

You don’t have to do much as she naturally shifts the conversation from herself to the other girls, gossip falling off her lips like it’s her second nature. You must say, you never heard so many disturbing things about people you didn’t know before. 

As soon as she mentions Yuna and her obsession with athletes, your ears perk up. “Oh really? I didn’t know her type was that simple,” you comment casually and Minseo takes a sip of her coffee, the paper long out of her hands, laying untouched right beside her cup. “Oh no, athletes aren’t the only thing she is into. You know Jinho from the swimming team? He definitely wouldn’t make the cut,” she shakes her head like it’s the most obvious fact. You frown slightly, trying to remember him. When you realize you can’t put a face to the name, you figure that’s why he doesn’t fall under her type. She doesn’t like people whose names others don’t know. 

“It’s someone like Yeonjun that she’d kill for. She’s been trying to get him ever since our first year. Weirdly enough, he isn’t interested.” Yeonjun is a name you do recognize. A star of every party that mattered, someone who was always surrounded by other people, just like Yuna. If it was by choice or not wasn’t your business. He was handsome, you could see why girls would like him, but he wasn’t your type. You’d much rather have someone who could solve a math problem than a guy who could drink a bottle of beer upside down. 

“I see,” you hum. “So what would you say her type is?” It’s a simple question, that’s what it’s meant to be, but to your surprise, it’s also a question Minseo could talk about for hours. Hadn’t you known better, you would think she was still talking about herself. “She loves fashion, you know? Like there’s something so hot about a guy that can dress,” she says, looking around the café quickly. “See? That guy right there. It’s so hot,” she points at a guy in his twenties ordering a drink, waving with an innocent smile when he notices her. He looks flustered. 

Even though you don’t want to admit it, you must say she is right. The rolled up sleeves of his button up that reveal his forearms are hot. You shake your head to snap out of your thoughts quickly and take a proper look at what he’s wearing. It’s the opposite of what Beomgyu has on himself right now. Yet, it’s not something you think he wouldn’t be able to pull. 

“Oh! And him!” She whisper-yells, pointing at another guy who just walked in. When you see the black shirt and gray sweatpants he has on, you roll your eyes slightly. In his case, it’s definitely not the clothes she is attracted to but the muscles beneath them. “What else is there?” 

Minseo thinks for a second, finally averting her eyes from the unknown boy and looking back at you. “Someone popular,” she states the obvious. “Who has connections, and like a bunch of followers.” You fight the urge to scoff at the simplicity of the girl. You weren’t exactly expecting her to say someone nice and kind, but a part of you still had hope until now. “He also needs to go to parties with her, you know her,” she laughs. It’s the same laugh she always gives her friends at lunch and it makes you think if she’s always this fast at befriending people. If that’s what you can call whatever this is. 

“I was so surprised when she told me this, but apparently she also likes when guys get soft or whatever. She talked about emotions so much it made my head spin. She said a soft but popular guy like in the movies would be the best combination. I don’t necessarily agree though, I like them without all the emotions and shit.” — “What about you?” She tilts her head and you quickly blink in shock to make sure you’ve heard her right. “Is there anyone I could help you with?” Her smile widens at the idea, leaning closer to you. “If you want my recommendation, Minho from the football team might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.” 

Your cheeks flush and you quickly shake your head to stop her. “I think– I think I’m good. I don’t really, uhm,” you avert your eyes, glancing over to Beomgyu for a brief second to see if he was still watching. Thankfully, your eyes don’t meet as he is busy texting someone on his phone. “Oh my, are you a virgin?” That question caught you off guard even more, your eyes widening. When your eyes shoot back to hers, it's enough of an answer for her. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there,” she laughs, but to your surprise it doesn’t sound like she’s laughing at you. “Maybe you should try your luck with Yeonjun then, I’ve heard he likes virgins.” 

“I see,” you nod, your voice shaking slightly. It’s embarrassing. This whole conversation, sitting there in front of her and talking about things like these. “But what did you say your type was again? Maybe I know someone better.” 

You open your mouth to answer and then close it again. You’re not sure what she wants you to say, if she expects an honest answer, if she wants you to say athletes just so you could fit into her group, or if she simply wants to make fun of you and there’s no right or wrong answer. 

After giving it a second thought, you open your mouth again. “I like kind people. Ones you don’t have to worry will judge you or make fun of you. I like when they are able to hold a meaningful conversation and have their own opinions on stuff,” you says, searching her face for any sign of not liking where you were going with this. When you don’t find anything, certain that she’s still listening, you continue. “I also like when guys aren’t scared to show their girl off, I think that’s very cute—when a guy proudly talks about his girlfriend.” 

“I see, you’re one of those,” she giggles, leaning back in her chair. “How about looks?” You think about it for a second but then just shake your head. “Someone taller than me, I guess? I don’t know.” She shakes her head as well, but her smile never falls off. “I like you,” she proclaims, your surprise turning into a soft giggle when she messes up your name. Still, it’s something. “It’s bad you never attend any parties, you’re not only smart but also nice to talk to. Do you drink?” 

“Sometimes, I guess,” you nod and her smile widens. “You should come to my party then. I haven’t told anyone about it yet but I want to do one next month, make sure you’re free. The girls and I can help you find someone, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick one of the guys there.” You don’t refuse her, you don’t say anything really. You’re not sure what you should say. So you just nod slightly, figuring that she’ll probably forget about this in a few days anyway. 

She stretches her arms above her head, her yawn informing you that this was the end of her attention span. “This was really great,” your name is still a mess, but it’s closer this time, making you think that the next time you see her she might actually get it right. “But I should go now. The paper, uh, looks awesome.” You smile, nodding even though you know she hasn’t read a single word of it. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to in the first place. 

Minseo get’s up from her chair, giving you one last smile—one way less fake than the one you received when she came in—before walking off. You sigh, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. When you open them again, the chair opposite you is occupied again. “God, since when do you walk like a ghost?” You ask, exhaling sharply. Beomgyu chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend. I didn’t know you were into gossip and all,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes. It’s crazy how quickly he got comfortable around you, turning from a mumbling and blushing mess to an annoying smartass. 

“Don’t laugh too much, the work starts now. We need to buy you new clothes.” 

Your eyes scan the rack of clothing in front of you, searching for what might suit Yuna’s style. If it was up to you, what Beomgyu was wearing now would be ideal. You shake your head at yourself, picking up a dark blue jacket you’re sure you’ve seen Yeonjun wear in a different color. 

You turn around to show the piece to Beomgyu, seeing him holding up a pair of jeans himself. You narrow your eyes. “It’s the same one you’re wearing right now,” you point out and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I like my jeans, why not buy another pair if I’m comfortable in them?” He’s right, you can’t argue with that. You sigh, brushing it off and handing him the jacket for him to try on. He takes it without another word, looking around and browsing for more. You do the same, leaving him to do his thing while you go look through the other side of the store. 

You walk around, trying to figure out what could look good. You’re not sure honestly, and the more time you spend at the store, the more you question if you’re fit to be the person helping him. You had your own style that you liked and didn’t care if others found it stylish or not, barely keeping up with the latest trends unlike Yuna. At the end of the day, you and her were the complete opposites, so how were you supposed to get him to fit her style? 

When you meet Beomgyu again near the changing rooms, his hands are full. You smile, glad that he found it so easy picking out something that would fit both his and Yuna’s preferences. It’s only when you sit down and watch him come out in the first outfit that you realize he didn’t even try picking up clothes that weren’t in his usual style. 

“This is nice, right?” He asks, doing a small spin so you can see. Baggy, ripped jeans and a comfortable hoodie. You scan his outfit, raising your eyebrow. It did look nice. It was similar to what he wore normally — except for the backwards cap on his head — so you couldn’t say you wouldn’t like it, the opposite actually. 

For some reason, he looked different standing in front of you now. It wasn’t the same boy you’ve met outside of your house, it wasn’t the boy that walked you home from work the same night and talked about a girl he likes, it wasn’t even the same boy that you got comfortable around so quickly. The Beomgyu standing in front of you now felt like a boy just for you. 

With his soft smile and glasses framing his face, he was just a boy you wanted to get serenaded by. 

“It’s totally a boyfriend vibe, you know?” He fixes his hat, looking into the mirror to check himself. “What do you think?” You blink quickly, nodding. “Yeah, it looks great,” you agree, swallowing a lump in your throat as the memory of Beomgyu singing outside of your window comes back to you. 

“Right? Taehyun and Soobin need to stop arguing with me about having a better style. I’m the best,” he laughs, disappearing into the changing room before you can say anything else. When he comes out again, he has a new pair of jeans on—black ones this time—a simple white shirt and the jacket you picked up before. 

Your eyes widen just slightly, biting the inside of your cheek as he steps closer to you, watching himself in the mirror beside you. “I didn’t think this would suit me too well,” he mumbles, hiding his hands in the jacket pockets, smiling. “But it actually looks amazing. I think I’ll get this.” 

“Yeah, you should,” you nod, mentally slapping yourself to snap out of it. You need to focus, not think about how well he looks. “I’m sure Yuna will like it,” the words come out broken but you’re not sure why. You do think she will like it. It’d be stupid of her not to. He looks amazing. 

“Okay, I have one more outfit there,” he says, fixing his hair quickly. “Come on.” 

“Where?” You blink confusedly, slowly standing up. “I chose an outfit for you as well.” Your eyes widen as you follow him inside one of the cabins and he hands you the clothes. You don’t get the chance to say anything before he closes the door behind you, sliding back into his cabin. 

You stand there for a second, not moving an inch while listening to his soft hums of the song playing on the store speakers. As soon as your mind processes what has happened, you take a look at the clothes you’re holding, making a mental note that he likes the color pink. 

You step out while fixing your hair, Beomgyu already waiting for you with his back turned to you. You clear your throat and he immediately turns to face you, his eyes widening for a brief second. You feel a bit awkward as he watches you, his eyes scanning your whole body as if he saw you for the first time. 

He has a neat, light blue button-up, half of the buttons undone, revealing a white tank top beneath it. His pants are black, formal, something you didn’t think you’d see on him. The more you watch him, the more you question if there’s something he doesn’t look good in. 

“I… you look amazing,” he compliments you, finally averting his eyes. His head falls low as he buttons his shirt, focusing on anything but how you look right now. He closes his eyes, trying to snap out of his thoughts, but the only thing he sees when he does is you again, standing right there with your innocent eyes and the clothes he picked up. 

While looking for his clothes, he stumbled into the women section, his eyes immediately landing on a pink sweater. He isn’t sure why, but the first thought that popped up in his mind was about how nice it would look on you. He knew he was shopping for his clothes but he couldn’t help it, ending up browsing the women’s section for something to go with the sweater. And he did find something—a white skirt. He thought it would look cute on you, what he didn’t know was that it would look this cute. 

The skirt was shorter than he expected, revealing more skin than he was ready for. Just seconds ago, he was thinking about how good he looked in his clothes and now, he was a mess. He shakes his head, avoiding looking at you again as he swallows a lump in his throat, asking you what you think of his outfit. 

“You look handsome.” 

The words come out before you can stop it, making you avert your eyes as well, your cheeks lightly flushed. 

You both stand there, avoiding meeting each other’s eyes from embarrassment as if you’ve just walked in on him naked. It’s irrational if you think about it from a different perspective, but you can’t look him in the eyes, no matter how much you try to. 

You’d rather not look at him again if it’d mean getting your heart to calm down and not making you feel like you’re going to get a heart attack any second. 

You’d rather not meet his eyes again than admit a part of you wishes he was dressing up like this for you instead of Yuna. 

Beomgyu walks out of the store with two plastic bags—one for himself and the other for you. You did like what he picked out, and as soon as you said it out loud, his eyes met yours instantly, putting his embarrassment aside and saying he’ll buy it for you. You tried arguing at first but gave up halfway, letting him do whatever he wanted. 

“Is there another thing we could check off the list today?” He wonders, walking through the mall with you by his side. 

“Aren’t you tired?” 

He hesitates for a second, shrugging. “No, not really,” he mumbles. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” It’s a small lie if he’s honest. He could find what to do. He has his guitar, his band that is waiting for him to compose another song they could play at the spring festival the school holds, and there’s the game he’s been promising Soobin to play for the past few weeks. Still, he doesn’t want to go home just yet, doesn’t want to close himself in his room for hours with music when he could hang out with you. It’s the first for him. 

Beomgyu was always someone who loved music. No matter what it was—the sound of a guitar, his old music teacher teaching him her favorite songs, the sound of his pencil drumming against the desk when he was bored in class, or even the birds singing in the morning when he woke up. 

He wasn’t sure why spending time with you suddenly sounded better than music but he didn’t want to question it. 

All he wants to do is enjoy the rest of his day, preferably by your side. 

“Sure,” you nod, looking at your phone to see the time. “We can watch a movie together,” you offer, already sending a quick text to your mom to let her know you wouldn’t come home alone. “Yuna likes romance movies.” 

He hums, listening to your every word as you talk about all the possible movies that come to mind at the moment, giving a quick commentary to each of them so he could picture them. 

“Do you have a favorite?” You think it through, remembering exactly how you felt watching each movie you’ve just mentioned. “10 things I hate about you,” you answer finally, confident in your response. There were so many good ones you could watch, but this one holds a special place in your heart. “Let’s watch that one then.” 

The light is on in the living room when you reach your house, Beomgyu awkwardly hanging behind you as you walk inside, a loud “I’m home,” leaving your lips. You peek into the living room, waving at Beomgyu to come closer when you see both of your parents cuddled up on the couch, watching your mom’s favorite reality show. 

“Good afternoon,” Beomgyu greets them nervously, pushing his glasses up when they slide down his nose. “I’m Choi Beomgyu, I go to Haneul Academy with your daughter.” Your parents glance up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, your mom’s smile widening immediately. “Oh my,” she quickly stands up, motioning for your dad to follow as she makes her way over to you. 

You shake your head slightly as you watch your mom extend her hand towards him, introducing herself with a smile, your dad mirroring her actions. “You’re handsome,” she comments, nodding as if she was approving. You shoot her a look but she ignores it, offering Beomgyu something to eat. 

“I, uhm, thank you,” he smiles, chuckling nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“We’re going to watch a movie,” you inform them, getting their attention back to yourself. You’d rather not scare him away immediately. “Have fun,” your mom beams, glancing at your dad briefly. “I’ll get you something to eat as soon as our show ends.” 

“Thank you.” 

Beomgyu follows you into your room while you mumble apologies but he just shakes his head, brushing it off over and over again. “Your parents seem really nice.” You nod, closing the door behind you. “They are, but I get it if my mom seems like a lot right now.” 

“She’s nice,” he repeats, assuring you it’s okay as he carefully sits on your bed. “Besides, even if she was an evil witch, it wouldn’t be your responsibility to apologize for her behaviour.” You bite back your smile, averting your eyes from him again and grabbing your laptop from the table. 

“You’re really nice as well, you know,” you mumble, sitting down and placing the laptop on top of your thighs. 

You’re really nice. The words echo in his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again as the movie starts playing, the sentence stuck in his throat. The intro music plays and he has to force himself to take his eyes off you and focus on the movie instead. 

You soon learn Beomgyu can’t shut his mouth for longer than a few minutes, not even while watching a movie. 

“This makes no sense. He can’t actually be that stupid, can he?” — “As you can see, some guys don’t have more than one brain cell,” you laugh, watching Joey pay Patrick as if it was his idea all along. 

“Your eyes have a little green in them.” You smile, a soft giggle leaving your lips when she throws up right after that. Beomgyu beside you chuckles as well, glancing at you. “I’m starting to get it,” he says and your eyes meet. “Oh?” 

“Yeah, I mean,” he clears his throat as if he was embarrassed. “They are cute together. It’s nice seeing them,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. “And it’s easy to imagine myself in there.” 

“Yeah? Who would you be if you were there?” You question, your eyes flickering between the screen and the boy beside you. “Cameron,” he answers without hesitation and your smile falters for just a second. “I assume I know who Bianca would be.” He shrugs, not meeting your eyes again. 

It doesn’t surprise you. You can see him in the position, pining over a girl while she flirts with the popular guy, playing around with him until she realizes what she’s missing out on. It’s funny, how just the thought of Beomgyu and Yuna makes you feel sick in the stomach even though you were the one offering your help with his crush. 

The movie playing on your laptop along with a few soft laughs at times is the only thing that fills the room after that. You stay quiet, ignoring the way your shoulder brushes against his, watching in silence as Patrick and Kat get together, as Cameron and Bianca start seeing each other, even as Kat finds out she’s been played and Beomgyu starts asking questions, wondering if they are going to be okay. 

“Is it that bad?”

“You mean being lied to and finding out he wasn’t interested from the start?” You raise your eyebrow and he closes his mouth again. “I get that just…you can see it in him that he loves her, right?” 

“That’s true,” you nod slightly. “And that’s why they’re not going to stay apart forever.” That seems to quiet him down, eyes focused on the movie again. 

As soon as the movie finishes, you shift in your place, Beomgyu’s eyes falling to your figure. “So? What do you think?” You ask to break the awkward silence. At least that’s what it seems like to you. “It’s really good,” he nods, his voice quiet. You want to ask if he’s okay, what is he thinking about and if he wants a glass or water or anything, but before you can do so, he is already on his feet, fixing his pants. “I should go now,” he says and you notice he doesn’t look you in the eyes. “It’s late and my mom is probably waiting for me.” 

You nod, unsure of what to do. A part of you wants to stop him, ask him to stay longer and talk with you—about school, your part-time job, anything he wants—but you know you can’t. So instead, you stand up as well, leaving the laptop on your bed as you walk him out, watching him say his goodbye to your parents and them returning it with such a bright smile you’d think they’re talking to your best friend. 

You linger at the door as Beomgyu walks out of your house, a plastic bag with his new clothes swinging in one of his hands. He looks back just once, your eyes meeting for a brief second, a spark flickering in them before he gives you one of his soft smiles, waving at you before disappearing into the dark. 

You’re not sure what it is that had him running out of your room so quickly, but you know one thing—spending the day with him changed something. 

Something you couldn’t quite name yet. 

There has to be a logical explanation for the sudden change, and you doubt it’s the different clothes. 

Taehyun seems to think the same, his eyes narrowing as he glances between you, Beomgyu, and the girl standing near the table, a smile on her face. Your eyes lock with his and he immediately wonders what’s happening. You shrug, as confused as he is. Soobin besides you doesn’t look as fazed, his eyes focused on his food, completely ignoring the situation happening around. 

He wasn’t always eating lunch with the three of you but he knew about the situation. Beomgyu’s crush wasn’t a secret, and because they were best friends, there was no need to hide his plan from him either. 

“Thanks for the help with the english homework,” Yuna smiles, making you roll your eyes. When you see Taehyun scoffing opposite you, you smile as well. You’re glad you’re not the only one feeling this way—like her whole presence near you is an irony. 

“No problem,” Beomgyu answers with a shy smile. “Anytime.” 

“This soup is really good,” Soobin interrupts and you’re not sure if he can’t read the room or just doesn’t care. Either way, Beomgyu glares at him, ignoring his comment completely. 

“Okay,” she giggles gently, a sound so perfect you can see why Beomgyu would fall for her. Despite your differences and your disagreement with her actions, you get it. Deep down, you understand. She’s pretty, with long shiny hair and glossy lips. Her skin looks as soft as she sounds when she speaks, and her laugh sounds more beautiful than you expected. 

“I’ll see you around then,” Beomgyu smiles at her awkwardly as she walks off to her table of friends, humming instead of answering. You wouldn’t consider this a real conversation or progress but when you see his eyes, you can’t say it out loud. He looks too proud of himself for that. “Did you guys see that?”

“No, not really,” Soobin says, not bothered at all. Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him but his smile doesn’t fall off his lips. “I’ve seen it. It’s weird,” Taehyun frowns. 

“It’s not weird.” 

“It is.” 

“You don’t think it’s weird, do you?” Beomgyu looks at you, making you blink quickly. Your eyes flicker from him to his two friends, searching for help. Because honestly, you’re not sure. 

“You like her,” you shrug, brushing the question off. Beomgyu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else, the topic slowly drifting to something no one minds talking about—their band practice. 

Taehyun tells you about a new song they’re working on, complimenting Beomgyu’s work on the music—which makes his neck turn red—and laughing as he remembers how Kai’s legs got tangled with the cables and he knocked down a bunch of instruments. You gasp when you hear the story, worried about him and all the instruments that must have been damaged. Thankfully, Taehyun assures you no one got hurt, not a single guitar or band member. 

“Have you prepared for the spring festival yet?” Soobin wonders, munching on his food. “There’s a month left and you’re performing, right?” 

“Forty days,” Beomgyu corrects. “And…not really. I’m working on it, I promise. I told the manager we’d be performing three new songs so I need to make that happen,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Inspiration has been avoiding me lately.” 

“What normally works for you?” You ask, watching his eyes widen slightly. He thinks about it, his mouth falling open and then closing again multiple times. “I’m not… I’m not sure actually. It usually just appears out of nowhere, I don’t think there’s a pattern or something that would make me write good music.” 

“Relaxed mind,” Taehyun speaks up. “And memories. That usually works for me.” 

You nod, glancing between the three boys. It’s true that ever since you went shopping with him, he’s been out of it. Sure, he still talks like he is on crack a lot of the time, his brain working faster than yours ever could, but every time you mention his music, his smile seems to falter for a second. And now that you know he hasn’t been able to write anything lately, it starts to make sense. 

“Alright. We should do something then. Relaxed mind and memories? I think I know of a way to connect that with our little mission,” you smile gently, ignoring Taehyun narrowing his eyes at you, studying you, and only focusing on Beomgyu, his lips turning into a soft smile you’ve grown to love over the past few days. “Have you ever played basketball?” 

Athletes were one of the most obvious things on Yuna’s like-list. Her dating history said enough. It was only natural for the next step of your plan to be something to do with sports—but Beomgyu certainly didn’t expect to be playing on the school court with the captain of the basketball team. 

“You’re late,” he comments, looking at a non-existential watch on his hand. “Wasn’t Jake supposed to be here?” You ask instead of answering, walking closer to Heeseung, one of your old friends from middle school, Beomgyu following right after you. “Change of plans,” he shrugs innocently. “He had a chore to run to and I wanted to check out who you were so eager to teach basketball to.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice that makes you roll your eyes because you know exactly what he’s referring to. The last time you asked him and Jake to play basketball with you was when you wanted to introduce your boyfriend to them, but this was a different situation. 

A completely different one. 

“Heeseung, meet Beomgyu. Beomgyu, Heeseung,” you introduce them briefly. “He wants to impress a girl and needs to be good at sports for that.” Beomgyu shoots you a look immediately, a silent plea not to tell on him completely. It’s enough that he has to listen to Taehyun’s constant ranting about how stupid it is and Kai’s teasing, he doesn’t need it from a stranger as well. 

“Nice to meet you,” Beomgyu extends his arm awkwardly, a brief smile on his lips. Heeseung shakes his hand without a second of hesitation, his smile much wider. “Who’s the lucky girl?” He wonders and before Beomgyu can answer, you turn to him. “He always wants to know all the gossip to have a clear picture of others in his head but he doesn’t tell others. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out.” 

Beomgyu nods. “Yuna,” he admits, quickly looking around to check no one else was in. It’s kind of cute. It would be if he wasn’t talking about the one girl you don’t want him to talk about. You think it might feel a lot better if it wasn’t someone so different from you—if it was someone you didn’t compare yourself to so often. 

Heeseung whistles, laughing softly. “That’s a tough one.” — “Do you think it’s not worth it?” Heeseung tilts his head slightly, taking a proper look at the boy in front of him. “That’s something you have to decide on your own. I don’t think you’re a bad guy, otherwise she wouldn’t be talking to you,” his eyes fall to you quickly before he looks back at Beomgyu. “And that alone gives you a chance with anyone.” 

Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him, glancing at you. “I don’t think that was an encouragement.” Heeseung laughs at him, shaking his head. “If you want my insight, Yuna is not someone everyone can deal with. And I’m not one to tell you if she’s good for you or the other way around.” 

You shake your head. “Just tell him it’s all worth it. It better be when we are putting so much effort in for her,” you laugh, the sound bitter. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, eyeing you up and down but before he can ask anything, you tell them to start playing already because you don’t have the whole day for them. It’s a lie. Once you knew you’d be spending the afternoon with Beomgyu again, you cancelled your shift and free-upped the rest of your day. 

You don’t want to be time limited. Not when you’re with him. 

 Heeseung throws the ball to Beomgyu, daring him to show off what he is capable of. He hesitates, eyes flickering between you and Heeseung before he starts dribbling, trying to get around the captain. But this is Heeseung’s arena and he doesn’t let him win easily, stealing the ball the first chance he gets and running to the other side of the court, scoring perfectly. 

It goes like that for a while, Beomgyu slowly getting used to the pace and learning when to try going through Heeseung and when not. It’s not easy at all but that’s something he expected. Playing with the captain couldn’t be easy. 

“You’re good,” Heeseung praises, scoring another point. Beomgyu scoffs, pushing his sweaty hair back. “You learn fast and are confident.” 

“I haven’t scored even half as many times as you did.” 

“Yeah but I’ve been training my whole life,” he says, running around Beomgyu again before calling out to you. You raise your eyebrows confusedly, your eyes widening when the ball comes to you. You catch it, questioning what that was for. “Let’s play,” he explains simply, wrapping his arm around Beomgyu’s shoulder. “You haven’t gotten out of your form, have you?” 

“You play?” Beomgyu asks confusedly, his eyes wide. You smile, dribbling slowly as you walk closer. “It’s impossible not to when you’re surrounded with people that do,” you shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “But I’m not any good, don’t worry.” 

“That’s a lie,” Heeseung leans closer to Beomgyu, chuckling. “I always ask her to play against our newbies to see how good they are. She never loses,” the praises leave his lips as if it’s his second nature, making you roll your eyes. However, when Beomgyu smiles at you, saying he wants to play with you, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as well. “Let me take my glasses off first, they’re pissing me off.” 

You watch him take them off and hide them inside his bag, your eyes never leaving him. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without them and a part of you is grateful for that. It’s really hard to focus on anything when he looks like that—absolutely gorgeous with his big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Yeah, this wasn’t good for you at all. 

Running around the court, sweating your ass off, was never something you enjoyed a lot. It was the main reason why you never wanted to play basketball for a club. But running around with Heeseung and Beomgyu by your side was something completely different. You were laughing, your stomach hurting from how much. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and you were sure it wasn’t a pleasing sight, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Not when your eyes were focused on the sweat on Beomgyu’s forehead, his laugh addicting. 

If it was with him, you could run forever on this court. 

“Timeout, timeout,” Beomgyu repeats over and over again, his breathing heavy as he leans forward, his hands resting on his knees. Despite the exhaustion, he is still laughing softly, trying to collect himself again. His whole body feels too heavy all of a sudden. He falls to the floor, laying on his back and closing his eyes. Heeseung beside you laughs while you slowly walk over to him, sitting down beside him. 

Your own breathing is unsteady but you’re still doing better than him, resting your hands on the ground beside you and blowing air up to your forehead in a lame attempt to get your hair out of your face. 

“I’m not turning into an athlete,” he states, visibly exhausted. You chuckle. “You’d be good at it.” He shakes his head, still not opening his eyes. “Absolutely not. I think I have asthma.” 

“Well then, it’s good you’re so smart,” you mumble and he prompts himself up on his eyebrows, watching you curiously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You panic slightly, shaking your hands in front of your face. “I mean, you don’t have to be sporty! You are, obviously, uhm, I–” 

His soft laugh interrupts you, a sigh full of relief escaping your lips. “I’m just teasing you. I’m glad I’m smart as well,” he assures you, glancing at Heeseung who is still standing up, a bottle of water in his hands now. You’re not sure where he got it but you need one as well, extending your arm towards him and asking him to pass it over. “Not that anything would be wrong with being an athlete, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Heeseung laughs, handing you the water. “You’re good,” he shakes his head, joining you on the ground. “That was fun, though. You do have a talent,” he assures him and you smile again, agreeing. Beomgyu grins proudly, mumbling something about always knowing he’d be good. It makes you laugh again. It’s amazing how easy it is for him to make you laugh but you definitely don’t complain. 

As you’re collecting your things from the ground and saying your goodbyes to Heeseung, he pulls out his phone, telling you to wait. Both you and Beomgyu look over, questioning what he needs. “Let’s exchange numbers.” 

Beomgyu smiles, quickly pulling out his phone and handing it to Heeseung for him to put his number in. “I’ve got a few pictures when you two were playing, let me send it to you.” You frown confusedly but Heeseung only smirks at you, Beomgyu’s phone lighting up with a new message instantly. “I think they are good, you should post them.” 

There’s a bunch of photos of the two of you playing and laughing, some solo shots of Beomgyu, and even a picture of him laying on the ground just a few minutes ago. His smile widens, an idea sparkling in his head. Beomgyu quickly turns towards you, showing you a picture of him with the ball, his forehead sweaty, hair falling into his eyes. “Yuna said she likes big followings, right? I should start posting anyway, and this one is good, right?” 

You freeze for a second, nodding slightly. “Yeah,” you mumble, biting your bottom lip to make sure you don’t say anything else. The words, “Can’t you do something just for yourself and not her?” hanging dangerously on the tip of your tongue. 

“Alright, I see you around,” Heeseung says, sensing the sudden shift in your energy. “Call me later, yeah?” You nod, smiling awkwardly, holding tightly onto your bag. “I will,” you agree, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes again, hoping he can’t see how broken you feel over something so stupid. “Let’s go?” 

When you get home you notice Beomgyu’s new post. The same picture he showed you earlier. When you scroll to another picture, he’s laughing with you and it makes you smile. The last picture he posted is of him laying on the ground, exhaustion visible. You think back to the moment and even though it’s only been minutes since you last saw him, you find yourself missing him already. 

You want to spend more time with him, create more memories and laugh with him. But as soon as your eyes fall to the like button under his post, the silly wish disappears because you know you can’t ask for that. Not when his eyes are already on someone else. 

Liked by yunaluxe and others. 

You turn your phone off, throwing it beside you on the bed and burying your face in your pillow, a loud, regretting groan leaving your mouth. 

The club room is loud, the electric guitar shaking the walls when Beomgyu walks in. Taehyun doesn’t notice him at first, his eyes closed as he plays, his grimace making Beomgyu wonder what he’s thinking about. It’s been long since he heard him play like that. Taehyun was usually calm, keeping his troubles to himself in order not to bother others. 

“Hey,” Beomgyu greets him, Taehyun’s fingers stopping mid move as his eyes flutter open. “Hey. Sorry that was,” he tilts his head and swallows a lump in his throat, his brows furrowed as he thinks about how to explain himself. “I needed to cool off for a second.” 

“Everything good?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shakes his head. “Just a rough day. Math and all,” he brushes it off and even though Beomgyu feels a bit uneasy, he nods, getting his guitar out of the case. “Yeah, math sucks,” he plays into it, smiling as he joins his side. “It completely tired me today as well. Should we play it off together?” 

Taehyun’s lips turn into a smile, “Sure.” 

Kai laughs awkwardly as he walks into the club room, making both Taehyun and Beomgyu turn his way. The two of them are sitting at a table in the corner of the room now, chatting about nothing in particular while waiting for their third member. He’s late, which isn’t usual for him. 

“You got lost or what?” Beomgyu asks with a light laugh, his smile falling off when he notices another figure behind Kai. “Kind of,” he chuckles, a teasing smirk on his face as he steps aside for the two boys to see. “Oh.” 

“Hi,” Yuna smiles warmly, fixing her skirt in a way that has Beomgyu thinking she wants him to look. He clears his throat, glancing at Taehyun instead. “I’m going to absolutely embarrass myself,” he whispers, his eyes screaming for any sort of help. Taehyun just rolls his eyes at him, jumping down from the table. “What brings you here?” 

“I saw Huening in the hallway and asked him about you,” her eyes briefly flicker to Beomgyu, his neck turning red under her gaze. “And when he said you’ve got practice right now, I asked if it would be possible to join you.” 

Beomgyu pulls a chair for her, unsure if he should yell at Kai or be thankful. He feels like a mess, with no idea what to do. There has to be a right and wrong answer but he can’t find them for some reason. So he simply grabs his guitar, squeezing it tightly as he waits for his band mates to prepare as well. 

It’s awkward. He avoids meeting her eyes as much as possible while her gaze lingers on his figure in a way he didn’t think was possible. A part of him feels excited, but the other is just tensed, insecure, and intimidated. Sure, they’ve played for others before. The three of them stood together on a podium in front of a bunch of people since middle school, but this was different—intimate. 

“Okay, uhm, let’s start with spring,” Beomgyu looks over his shoulder at Kai behind the drums and then back at Yuna, sharing an awkward smile with her before his fingers gently move over the strings, one hand holding the pick and determining the rhythm while the other switches between different chords. 

As the soft melody echoes through the room, his eyes close, focusing on his voice as he starts with the first verse. Spring is an old song from four years ago they play to this date to warm up. It was also one of the first songs Beomgyu has written, and even though he knows he has improved a lot since then, he still feels proud. 

“Should we do Wake up next?” Kai suggests as soon as the song comes to an end. Beomgyu’s eyes widen, anxiety running through his whole body. “Yeah, let’s do that,” Taehyun agrees without hesitation, ignoring Beomgyu’s panicked look. Wake up is a recent song, one he wrote with Yuna in mind. It’s embarrassing on its own, even more so when he’s supposed to play it in front of her. 

“Oh, is that a new song? I haven’t heard of that one,” Yuna asks excitedly, her bright eyes catching him off guard. It feels like he is talking to a completely different person. Just a few weeks ago, he was convinced there wasn’t an universe where she would like him back and now, he felt like he was in a dream. Beomgyu from a month ago would be jealous of him now, absolutely excited to play a song for her. 

But now, he doesn’t feel that. He feels lost and confused as his voice fills the room because it’s not Yuna or her pretty smile that his mind drifts to. 

It’s you, the girl he’s spent so much of his time with lately he can’t see a reality in which he doesn’t talk to you. 

His fingers slip. The chord misses. His heart stutters, faster than the tempo, his head clouded with memories of everything you did together. It’s weird, wrong. He’s supposed to be thrilled, jumping from excitement that he gets to show off his music in front of Yuna and possibly get closer to her, so why is it only you he can think of while playing a love song he wrote? 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beomgyu shakes his head, stopping before the song ends. Taehyun and Kai stop their movements as well, watching him confusedly. “My head is elsewhere,” he admits, mentally slapping himself to snap out of it. “It’s okay,” Taehyun assures him, his voice giving away that he is confused. This hasn’t happened before. If anyone was out of it during practice, it was Kai. Beomgyu was always focused, relaxing with the music and getting his mind off any unnecessary thoughts. It was weird. 

“We can take a break,” Kai suggests, anxious when he looks at Yuna. He brought her in because he wanted to help Beomgyu and make them closer, he’d hate for this little mistake to cause the opposite. Thankfully, she doesn’t look disgusted like he expects her to, the same warm smile on her lips that calms him down a bit. “Sorry,” Beomgyu mumbles again, placing his guitar on the stand. 

“It was really great,” Yuna says softly and Beomgyu’s eyes finally meet hers. “Don’t worry about it, the song sounds amazing.” — “Right,” he nods slightly, jumping up on the same table as before, his feet swinging in the air. “It’ll be better at the spring festival.” It’s a light promise that causes Yuna’s smile to widen, nodding happily. “I can’t wait to listen to it. I should go now, Minseo needs my help with getting alcohol for her party,” she giggles, the sound sending a shiver down Beomgyu’s spine. “You’re all coming, right?” 

The guys exchange a look, unsure of what to say. Beomgyu only heard of the party when Minseo was talking to you about it in the café and honestly, he completely forgot about it. He didn’t think he was invited anyway, he never was. “You have to, it’ll be fun,” she encourages them, grabbing her hand back from the floor and standing up. “I’ll see you there,” she grins before any of them even answer her, not giving them a choice. And just like that, she walks away, leaving the three boys alone in the room. 

Kai blinks confusedly, trying to figure out what just happened. He thought something was up right when Yuna approached him and asked him about their practice, but this was on a completely new level of insane. He turns his head towards Beomgyu who is as lost as he is, his gaze lingering at the door. 

But for some reason, he doesn’t miss Yuna, doesn’t look there and imagine her figure. No, all he can think about is how wrong it felt playing the song for her, and how much he wishes it was you sitting on the chair in front of him, laughing with them at the stupid jokes Kai made or the way he messed up the chords. 

Because with you he doesn’t feel the same pressure as with Yuna. 

With you, it just feels easy. 

“You haven’t forgotten, right?” You blink confusedly, looking up to see who’s talking to you. Your confusion only grows when your eyes meet Minseo who you haven’t talked to since the day in the café. “About…?” She gasps, shaking her head in disappointment. “The party, obviously! You have to come.” The fact she’s talking to you doesn’t surprise you as much as the way she finally says your name correctly does. 

“I…when is it?” You ask carefully, hoping she doesn’t yell at you. She simply sighs, opening her phone to show you something. “Have you lived under a rock until now? It’s bold on here,” she turns her screen towards you, your eyes quickly scanning her story with the time and address. It is clear and you’re sure everyone knows about it already. It’s your fault for not following her. 

“Tell me you don’t have anything today. We talked about this a month ago already.” 

“I, no, I’m free,” you nod, a little uncertain. Parties weren’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t know how to tell her no. It was the first time someone out of her circle talked to you about anything other than homework they needed help with, and even though you knew it was pathetic holding onto it so much when you complained about their lack of intellect a lot before, you didn’t want to miss out on your chance to prove to them you weren’t just a nerd who didn’t have any hobbies outside of studying. 

“Then it’s settled,” she claps her hands happily. “Bring whoever you want with yourself as long as they’re fun, I don’t care.” You nod, someone popping into your head immediately. She grins, waving at you slightly before walking out of the class, already chatting with someone else. 

You brush your hands on your skirt awkwardly, trying to get them to stop sweating as you step out of the car, Beomgyu and his two friends right behind you. Kai’s older sister quickly wishes you to have fun, telling Kai to call her once he needs a ride back before driving off, leaving the four of you at the sidewalk. 

“This is so weird,” Taehyun comments, looking at the already full house. Some people are in the garden, laughing around the pool while one of Minseo’s friends stands behind the DJ pult, mixing songs in a way that gives away that she is definitely not supposed to touch the device. 

“Tell me about it,” Beomgyu mumbles while Kai just grins, way more excited than the three of you. “Oh, come on. It’s going to be fun!” 

“Or extremely embarrassing.” Kai rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Taehyun’s shoulder and walking towards the house, yelling how lame you and Beomgyu are. You watch their back in disbelief, glancing at Gyu beside you. He’s wearing one of his ripped jeans with an oversized band shirt, looking as handsome as ever. He also isn’t wearing his glasses, and so when he turns his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours, you feel weak in the knees. 

“Let’s go,” he smiles and you avert your eyes, squeezing the bottom of your skirt as you gaze into the ground beneath your feet. He seems to notice your uneasiness, wrapping his hand around your shoulder and pulling you closer into a brief side hug. You raise your head again, surprise written all over your face as you watch him, eyes wide. “You look amazing,” he assures you, thinking that’s what’s bothering you. “I told you when we were buying the clothes and I’ll tell you all over again until you believe it.” 

It’s incredible how easy it is for Beomgyu to have your heart racing. His words echo in your head, his cologne reaching your nose as he slowly walks with you towards the house as well, keeping you close. You look down on your clothes again, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you stare at the white skirt and pink sweater—the same clothes he bought for you a few weeks back. 

Beomgyu grabs a drink for you and him as soon as you get inside, finding a space in the corner of the room. He tells you about a new show he’s been watching, how his new song has been going, and even about his failure at cooking dinner last night. You laugh, slowly getting comfortable again and forgetting about everyone else, your world only having two people in it—you and him. 

You’re not sure where Kai and Taehyun disappeared or if they were having fun but it’s what bothers you the least at the moment, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t Choi Beomgyu and his soft voice. 

But your little bubble is interrupted when your eyes meet Yuna’s behind Beomgyu and she walks over, greeting you with the same annoyingly beautiful smile. You take a sip of your drink and a small step back to make space for her, Beomgyu mimicking your movements. “Hey,” he greets her back, introducing you to her as if you didn’t already know who she was. “Oh, yeah, my bio girl, right?” She asks and you grit your teeth, nodding. 

It’s ridiculous. You’ve been in her bio class for two years and she always came to you asking for help or homework answers, often cheating off your tests as well, so how were you still only labeled as her bio girl? It made you feel like a joke. 

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she mumbles. You bite back the insult you want to say and simply smile, letting Beomgyu answer. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while,” he nods, glancing at you. There’s a flicker of something you can’t name in his eyes, making you blink confusedly. Haven’t you known better, you think it’s pain, regretted behind those words. Does he not see you as his friend? 

“Oh, right, I saw you on Beomgyu’s post when he was playing basketball, right?” You nod again, shaking it off and focusing your attention at Yuna again. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she says, shutting you out of the conversation before you can say anything else. “I don’t have anything to drink, mind grabbing something with me?” Beomgyu opens his mouth and closes it again, his eyes flickering between the two of you before he nods hesitantly, letting her wrap her arm around his and pull him away, leaving you standing there alone with just a cup of vodka in your hands. 

You’d be lying if you said you don’t feel like shit but there’s nothing you can do, watching them from your corner while sipping on your drink, looking like someone drained life out of you. Minseo seems to notice when she walks over to you to greet you, her smile turning into a frown as she asks what’s going on. You don’t answer. Can’t. But she figures it out on her own, her eyes following yours and finding Beomgyu and Yuna chatting near the drinks, both laughing over something he said. 

“Oh,” she breathes out, standing in front of you to cover the sight. She raises her cup, unsure of what to say to make you feel better. “Yuna is… I didn’t know… I mean,” she clears her throat, feeling the pain in her gaze. You shake your head, raising your cup as well and forcing a smile, drinking with her. Your eyebrows furrow when the bitter taste fully settles in, the grimace you make making Minseo laugh. You’re glad at least one of you is able to laugh at the moment. 

“You know, I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks,” she says suddenly, glancing back at them again. “So I really enjoy talking to you because I know you’re not stupid either.” — “Thanks?” You interrupt confusedly and she sighs. “My point is, I wanted to have a friend who was smart and also could talk about stupid boys with me so I wanted to help you get a boy, I told you that, right?” You nod, trying to see where her monologue is going. “But he’s…I can’t really help you when Yuna wants him as well. You understand, right?” 

Your eyes widen, your lips shaking a bit as you try to answer her. But what is it that you’re supposed to say? Yeah, no worries, I get that she wins every time? Oh thank you for being such a great friend, Minseo? 

Instead, you brush it off, changing the conversation before she can say anything else and make you feel even worse. She seems to prefer it that way as well. Her smile returns and she tells you about the boy she is seeing at the moment, complaining about him not showing up today before she drags you with herself towards the center of the room, introducing you to a few people as if you were really her friend. 

You sit down on the couch right beside her, fixing your skirt when it rolls up higher than you’d want. One of the guys offers you his drink but you refuse, saying you’re good. It’s only when you see Yuna holding Beomgyu’s hand and pulling him with herself for a dance that you grab the drink from him, gulping it down in one go. There’s a few whistles around you and cheers but they don’t reach your ears. The only thing you can hear is Minseo telling you to be careful before you receive another cup with who knows what. 

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there, drinking and chatting with Minseo’s friends but it does help make you feel better. You push Beomgyu out of your head for a while, thinking about getting home and watching a movie with your mom instead of the boy that keeps breaking your heart over and over again without knowing about it. It feels nice to be able to focus on something else for once, but with your luck, it doesn’t last long. 

“Here you are,” Beomgyu’s voice is a little panicked when he finds you, sounding as if he was looking for you all over the house. His breathing is unsteady as he looks around the group of people surrounding you, frowning. It’s an unusual crowd to say the least, especially when it’s Minseo of all people telling you to stop drinking because you’ve had enough. Your eyes flicker to him, your smile falling off. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hi,” he greets you back even though he doesn’t understand, your name gentle on his lips. “Are you okay?” He asks, worried as he comes to stand beside you. You nod, smiling again. “Peachy.” 

“She drank quite a lot,” Minseo tells him, making you roll your eyes. They’re acting as if you were wasted, unable to hear them. But you’re sitting right between them, annoyed with both of them. “The last time I checked I was able to drink however much I want,” you mumble, asking for another drink. Yeonjun who’s sitting opposite you reaches over and offers you his cup. You grab it without hesitation. 

Beomgyu says your name again in a poor attempt to stop you but it only makes you want it more. You need to drown the pain he causes you. Need to shut his voice out before you start crying in front of everyone without even knowing why. 

“Come on, we should go. Your mom will be worried,” he tries again and you shake your head. “I think she’s perfectly fine here,” Yeonjun interrupts him with a teasing smirk, leaning back in his seat. “Right, princess?” You nod, ignoring the nickname. “I’m sure her pretty little head can think for herself. And either way, there’s nothing to be worried about when she’s with us.” 

His words make Beomgyu even more uncertain, his blood boiling when he watches Yeonjun’s eyes trail down your body. It’s disgusting, really. He stands between you without hesitation. “Let’s go,” he tries again, watching your cheeks turn red as you look up at him, hoping for the couch to swallow your whole so you could disappear. 

His eyes are pleasing and part of you wants nothing more than to leave with him right now, but it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. 

Beomgyu grabs your hand before you can speak, pulling you up so you’re standing in front of him. You watch him confusedly, opening your mouth to argue with him and tell him you want to stay. However, he interrupts you before you can even do so, his empty hand cupping your cheek as he leans closer, pressing his lips against yours. 

Your eyes widen, feeling your heart is about to jump out of your chest when he tilts his head slightly, his eyes closed as he tastes your lips, his other hand moving from your to your waist, keeping you flush against him. 

You’re out of breath when he pulls away, the loud cheers around making you snap out of your thoughts and realize what’s going on. Beomgyu holds your hand again, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Can we go now?” You nod this time, squeezing his hand tightly as he pulls you away from the crowd, getting out of the house without looking back once. 

You don’t look back either, your eyes fixed on your intertwined hands, unable to think straight as he pulls you towards Lae’s car, Taehyun and Kai already waiting inside. 

He holds your hand throughout the whole ride without a single word, only letting you go when the car stops in front of your house and you step outside, your gaze lingering on him until Lea drives off and you’re finally able to break down, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. 

You don’t want to get out of your bed the next morning, frowning when the light from outside reaches your face. You hide your head under your blanket, groaning. You reach your hand out, trying to find your phone somewhere on the bed. Once you do, you’re left disappointed when you see it’s dead, slowly rolling out of the bed to charge it. 

It feels like someone beat your head the whole night but you force yourself to get out of your room and find something to eat, trying your hardest to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach that reminds you just how poor your decisions were last night. 

“You’re awake,” your mom smiles from the kitchen counter, already handing you a glass of water and some scrambled eggs. You smile as you grab them from her, sitting down at the table where your dad is drinking his morning coffee. “Did you throw up last night?” He asks and you shake your head immediately, assuring him it wasn’t that bad. 

“Beomgyu came by earlier,” your mom says as she settles into a chair beside you. Your eyes widen. “Asked if he could talk to you but you were asleep so I sent him back home. Did something happen?” You hesitate as you take a bite of your breakfast, remembering the way his lips felt against your last night. There’s a few things from last night that are blurry. You don’t remember how much you drank or what it was, but you remember this clearly. 

“No, nothing happened,” you shake your head in the end. “It probably wasn’t that important, don’t worry about it.” 

Nothing important. You try to convince yourself of that as well but as soon as you’re done eating, you rush back to your room, grabbing your phone immediately. Your lips curve into a smile when you see new messages from Beomgyu, feeling like for once, maybe life is going your way. 

Beomgyu: Are you awake yet?  Beomgyu: Can we talk?  Beomgyu: I’m on my way to your house Beomgyu: Your mom said you’re still sleeping, just call me when you wake up?  Beomgyu: I need to talk to you Beomgyu: And preferably see you as well Beomgyu: I miss you

He’s adorable. You rush to press the call button but freeze when you get a new notification. Yunaluxe shared a new story. 

You click on the notification even though a part of you knows you shouldn’t. Your stomach immediately drops when you see a picture of her and Beomgyu from last night, her arm wrapped around his waist while the other holds up a drink. He is smiling, his arm around her waist as well. You feel sick as you read the caption. Love finding future celebrities before they’re famous. 

You turn your phone off again and let it charge, jumping back into bed and closing your eyes, Beomgyu’s messages staying there unanswered. You can’t talk to him. Not when you know he thinks last night was a mistake. He likes Yuna, right? There’s no reason for him to talk to you. 

Life never goes your way. 

It hurts avoiding him, but it hurts even more seeing him. You turn away every time you catch just a glimpse of Beomgyu in the hallways, avoiding all his messages and calls. It’s been four days since you properly looked at your phone, not wanting to see what he texted you. You can’t. You’re sure that if you read his messages you’d cry again, and you’ve had enough of that. 

So instead, you buried yourself in work. You took a shift every day of this week and once your classes ended, you ran to the basketball court immediately to be with Heeseung and Jake, making sure there wasn’t a minute you could meet or think about Beomgyu. 

It worked. 

At least until it didn’t. 

You hear your name from behind, squeezing your eyes shut at the familiarity of it. You want to run away and pretend you didn’t hear him but before you can do so, he grabs your hand and your eyes widen. You slowly turn around, pulling your hand away from him. “Hey,” you greet him awkwardly. 

He sighs. You expect him to accuse you of avoiding him, be mad, or even yell at you. Instead, he does the complete opposite. “Hi,” he says simply, his voice as soft as you remember it. You meet his eyes hesitantly, your heart shattering into tiny pieces when he smiles at you. “Can we talk?” 

He doesn’t give you the chance to refuse, pulling you aside so you don’t stand in the way of other students. You’re both quiet for a while, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. An apology hangs at the tip of your tongue but the words never come out, the nervousness building up more and more the longer you stand there. 

Eventually, you break the awkward silence. “It looks like your wish became reality.” His eyes widen, looking at you confusedly. You clear your throat, looking away. “Yuna likes you, it’s super obvious. You’ve been talking to her, right? I’m sure it’s going well for the two of you.” 

“What? No– you– are you serious?” Now this is more in the tone of how you expected this conversation to go, the annoyance in his voice clear as day. “This has nothing to do with her. I wanted to talk to you. To you, about you.” 

“Did Taehyun get used to her yet? I’m sure she’s also eating lunch with you now, right? I hope he isn’t making it too hard for you,” you say as if you couldn’t hear anything he said. 

“Can’t you hear me?” He questions, taking a step forward. “This is not about Yuna or anyone else, I don’t care what Taehyun thinks of her. And no, she is not fucking eating lunch with us, which you would know if you weren’t running away from me. Seriously? Can’t you just talk to me, please.” 

His voice breaks at the end and you have to bite the inside of your cheek. No, you can’t talk to him. It’s too hard. Too painful. You need to run away from him, this conversation, everything he makes you feel. 

“I can’t,” you admit, focusing everything you have left on making sure your voice doesn’t break. If it did, you’re sure you’d cry. “I can’t, Beomgyu. Please, just go be happy with her and let me get over you in peace. I want to be your friend, I really do, but I need to be alone at first to be able to do that.” 

Beomgyu opens his mouth to argue, tell you how stupid it all is and that he doesn’t want you to do that, that he needs you closer than ever now. You walk away before he can do so, breathing heavily as you turn your back to him. It’s not fair. 

It’s the only thing both of you can think about. It’s not fair. 

It’s not fair he gets to walk around all happy with his dream girl liking him back while you have to watch, every word that comes out of his mouth breaking you in a different way. 

It’s not fair you get to walk away and look for closure while he is left standing there alone, unable to do anything but watch you as he regrets everything that happened in the past few weeks. As he regrets everything except for you. 

Beomgyu doesn’t need to speak for his friends to know something is wrong. As soon as he walks into the club room and sits down, it’s obvious he isn’t okay. Taehyun and Kai exchange a quick look before walking over to him, sitting beside him without a word. 

“Is everything…good?” Taehyun asks awkwardly, immediately shutting his eyes closed and regretting how off he sounds. “Perfect,” Beomgyu mumbles, only confirming their worries. “What happened?” 

Beomgyu hesitates, staying quiet for a while and repeating everything inside his head. Yeah, what did happened? When did everything go so fucking wrong? “We kissed,” he admits with a sigh. “Who?” Kai frowns and Taehyun immediately slaps his shoulder, shaking his head. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, your name leaving his lips before he can stop it. “On the party. And as you might have noticed, she’s been ignoring me since.” 

“Wait, slow down, you kissed her? I thought you wanted Yuna?” Kai asks confusedly, the surprise in his voice obvious. “Dude, it was so obvious they have feelings for each other,” Taehyun says and Beomgyu immediately turns his head towards him. “You think she has feelings for me?” He wonders, a little too excited. 

“I know she does. Have you seen the way she looks at you?” 

A smile forms on his lips, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared when he remembers you don’t want to see him right now, even if you do like him. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now. She doesn’t want me around and says I should be with Yuna.” 

“Wasn’t that what you always wanted?” Beomgyu glares at Kai and the poor boy raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you can’t blame her when Yuna has been the only thing you’ve been able to talk about for weeks.” 

“That’s not true,” he argues even though he doesn’t believe it himself. 

“It’s slightly true,” Taehyun nods. “But it’s definitely not lost yet,” he assures him quickly when he sees the pain in his eyes. “I know you and I know her, you two are way too good friends to be able to stay apart for so long. I’ve known you for years, Beomgyu, and as long as I’ve known you, Soobin was always your best friend. But after meeting her? It was so painfully obvious you like her the most out of all of us. I wondered all the time if you only see her as a friend. And she looks at you the same. Like you’re the whole world.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how. Silence takes over the room again and Taehyun wonders if he said something wrong, nervously glancing at Kai. 

“Do you want to cancel practice today? We don’t have to have one. We are basically perfect,” the youngest asks carefully but Beomgyu just shakes his head, standing up slowly. “No, we should practice. The spring festival is in a few days and we can’t mess up. I’ve heard some recording companies will be there.” 

They don’t argue with him, following him to their instruments without saying anything else. The silence is weird, uncomfortable, and it makes Taehyun and Kai uneasy. It’s the first time since they started playing together that their practice was this quiet. 

Beomgyu grumbles as he keeps messing up the chords, his head too loud compared to the silence in the room. It’s unbearable. But he pushes through anyway, not wanting to bother his friends with something so small as a failed crush he realized he had too late. 

It’s only when Taehyun suggests playing a different song that he finally manages to play somewhat stable. The right melody finally echoing through the club room. And as Taehyun starts singing and Beomgyu prepares for his verse, his mind drifts off again. He sees you, standing right in front of him and cheering him on with your big eyes, watching him like he is the star. 

And in that moment, it feels like all of his pain vanishes, only the happy memories he has with you remaining. 

“I need to go,” he blurts out all of a sudden, quickly packing his guitar. His friends watch him confusedly, blinking as he runs off without another word, unsure of what to do now. 

Beomgyu doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that it was he who insisted on having this practice or that he was a complete mess until now. There’s something more important to do at the moment than to drown himself in sadness. He has a song to write. 

You’re not sure about this. You stare down at your outfit, thinking if you should change again. You’re wearing a light blue dress that you’d normally love but for some reason can’t seem to feel good in right now. 

“You look gorgeous, I promise. Beomgyu is going to fall to his knees when he sees you,” Heeseung assures you, watching you from your bed. But it’s not about whether he’ll like it or not, you don’t even know if you want him to. Jake turns off his phone and looks at you as well, a soft smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head at you. “It’s beautiful. No need to stress it. We’re going there to have fun, not for some dumb dude. What was his name? Beomhuj? Or something like that.” You giggle as Jake playfully winks at you, making you feel better without having to try much. 

You’re glad they are going with you. You don’t think you’d be able to go alone. When you met Soobin in the hallway two days ago, he offered to go with you and you doubted he knew anything about what happened with you and Beomgyu so you simply rejected his offer softly. You weren’t going to go anyway. Just last night, you were set on staying home and laying in bed with your comfort movies, but then Heeseung and Jake came over, also set on something—making you go with them. 

You weren’t in the mood to argue with them and so you got dressed, letting them convince you. 

And now, you’re standing right behind the barricade with each boy on your side, awkwardly looking around the empty podium. You told yourself you weren’t excited, that you were there simply because your friends made you, so why were you searching for a certain boy with your eyes the whole time? 

Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai walk on the podium shortly after, the cheers and whistles loud around you. Even though you’re supposed to feel sad, mad even, all you are at the moment is proud. They are incredible. You know how hard they worked up to this point and seeing the crowd cheering for them makes you giddy. They deserve this, no matter what anyone else says. 

You watch Beomgyu introduce their band, his eyes nervously scanning the whole crowd. It might be just your imagination but you swear you catch a glimpse of his smile when his eyes finally land on you, clearing his throat as Kai starts playing the drums and music takes over the place. 

You smile as you listen to their music, all the sadness and emptiness you felt before washing off. You can’t help it. Even though a part of you wants to run away and hide so you never have to see him again, your other half heals when you listen to him. It always had. 

The song comes to an end and Beomgyu glances at his bandmates quickly before wrapping his hand around the mic, smiling at the crowd. 

“This is the first time we’re playing this song and it’s quite fresh, so I’m sorry if we sound a bit off,” he laughs awkwardly. “I wrote it at my worst and best at the same time. This one is for, uhm, a special someone,” he proclaims, avoiding eye contact as he thinks over his words. “It’s for the girl who makes me feel so much at once I’m unable to think straight, someone who has been there with me even when I was so oblivious it hurt her,” you see him glance at you briefly, his eyes saying everything you wanted to hear after accepting the fact you like him. You swallow a lump in your throat, shifting nervously and glancing at the two boys beside you. 

“This one is called Because of you. I hope you like it.” 

You blink confusedly as the melody surrounds you, the excitement in your eyes obvious as you look at Heeseung to make sure you’re not dreaming. He has a playful smirk on his lips, nodding as if he could read your mind completely. 

“You laughed at things I couldn’t say, And made them rhyme inside my chest,  I thought I’d lost the words one day, But with you, I found the rest,” 

Beomgyu’s voice makes you melt in an instant, your eyes glued to his as he sings his song, a song just for the two of you. You get your serenade, you realize. A song he wrote for you and no one else. Your smile widens, cheering him on with the rest of the crowd, causing his grin to widen as well. 

“Because of you, I raise my voice, Not to impress, but to rejoice, You turned the noise into a song, And showed me where my words belong, I used to run, now I stand through, Because of you,” 

The words play in your head the same way the first song you’ve heard him play did, the melody already stuck in your head as you hum along, singing with him as if you’ve known the song for years. Maybe it’s because it’s him, maybe because it’s the two of you, but you don’t care. Not when he stares at you throughout the whole song, even though you know Yuna is somewhere in the crowd as well. 

As soon as the song ends, Beomgyu glances at Taehyun for reassurance, giggling when he sees the proud nod he gives him. He rolls his eyes playfully when he sees how excited Beomgyu is, shaking his head. “Do I need to tell you everything? Get down there,” he encourages. 

Beomgyu turns towards the crowd again, laughing awkwardly. “If you guys excuse me for a moment.” He doesn’t wait for their answer, doesn’t wait for anything really as he puts away his guitar and rushes down the podium to the barricade. You watch him with amusement, giggling softly as Jake claps beside you. 

“Hi,” he smiles as soon as he stands in front of you. You giggle again, hiding your face in your hands. “Hey.” Beomgyu holds your hands and brings them away so he can look at you, an annoyingly beautiful smile spread across his lips as he pulls you closer and connects your lips with his again. 

It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more, making you feel absolutely drunk on him. You kiss him back without hesitation, smiling. If every kiss with him feels like butterflies exist in your stomach—you want to kiss him forever. 

He pulls back a little breathless, resting his forehead against yours. 

“It’s you. Deep down, I knew it’s always been you.” 

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @t-102 @jellyyjn @1-800-jewon @barbielibra @konigyu @demidelulu @i-am-not-dal @vicurious28 @yeonjunnnielover @fancypeacepersona @soohashits @whoisgami @cloverwalker ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

[juceys]

sleepy confessions jey uso

— you and jey have always been just close friends… until he confessed to you mid-dream.

pairing jey uso x fem!reader wc 1.5k+ genre fluff warnings explicit language not proofread note yall i have been on such a soft and domestic jey kick lately, bare with me lol

listened to freudian by daniel caesar and rearrange my world by rex orange county and daniel caesar

to know you is to know the twins in some shape or form. you’d grown up with them since practically diapers, thanks to your moms being such close friends.

you were there when jon accidentally kicked joshs tooth out in kindergarten, when they first joined football with joe, when they each had their first kid (as well as their second), when they first started wrestling and even now, you’re still here after 15 years of being in the wwe.

safe to say y’all have been through the thick and the thin together. hell, even sefa called you his ‘sister from another mister’. so it wasn’t surprising when you found yourself on a mini vacay with the twins and trinity, invited by none other than joshua.

if someone asked you to describe your relationship with josh in one word, you’d probably say - confusing. you two are good and close friends… sort of? your relationship with him is full of playful touches, late night talks, endearing nicknames, lingering looks… you get the idea.

and tonight after a long drive, you found yourself sharing a room and bed with him. again. but it’s nothing new, you two have always shared a room whenever on trips with jon and trinity. the only thing different this time is the fact that you’re aware of your feelings towards josh. you’re aware that you’re, without a doubt, in love with joshua fatu.

sure, you’ve always known that he’s a handsome man with a pretty face - and it doesn’t help that he has what you secretly call, a delectable bod. you remember the day he’d shown you his completed back tattoo, and you had to close your mouth so you wouldn’t start drooling on the floor right then and there.

however, things started to change within you when you realized just how gentle he was. you never realized it until trinity brought it to your attention - about how attentive and tender he was when it came to you.

he’s always listened to you, even to the things you wouldn’t say out loud. he’s always had patience with you, refusing to raise his voice even if you raised yours. he’s always been watched out for you, whether you were aware of it or not.

you realized that even through all your flaws, your good moments and bad, through the messy and the complicated, josh has always seen you as you. not who you can pretend to be. not who the world assumes you to be. just you. nothing more and nothing less.

and somehow, that’s always been enough for him.

-

the hotel rooms lights were dim, casting a low golden hue across the space, warm and tired like the two of you. you stepped out the bathroom with a cotton t-shirt wrapped around your head, hair basically dry and your skin dewy from the shower steam.

you were in some random pj shorts you threw in your bag and one of joshs oversized shirts - a black one that hung off your shoulders and had a faint smell of his cologne that hadn’t completely washed out yet.

josh was already in bed, lying on his back scrolling through his phone.

“mama, every time you get in the shower, you be taking damn near a hour,” he teased, a grin slowly growing on his face.

you playfully roll your eyes, “what can i say? i’m just a girl ya’know.” you both share a laugh as you start to settle down for the night. you take your hair out the t-shirt and throw it up in a messy bun, then make your way to turn off the last few lights before collapsing in the bed next to josh.

you attempted to create a little bit of room separating your two bodies as you shifted under the covers, which went noticed by him of course. “girl, c’mere,” he says as he pulls you closer to his frame. “y’know you get extra cold in hotels, and here you are tryna run from me.”

you felt your face turn red as you quietly thank him. your bodies were now closer than ever, his arms wrapping you tightly against him. it wasn’t new - didn’t mean it felt anywhere close to normal though. not with the way you’d wake up on his chest. or the way your stomach still did flips when he’d put his leg over yours. and definitely not the way he’d look down at you every morning when you both wake up.

josh let out a long sigh. “finally, some peace.”

“mhm,” you hum, “until you start snoring.”

he scoffed, “you the one that be snorin’ like a bear. i just breathe heavy, thas’all.”

you snort, “yeah okay caveman.”

you both talked a little while longer - about nothing and everything. a weird sign you saw someone hold the other night. trinity and jon being disgustingly cute again. the sheets being some of the comfiest you’ve ever laid on.

at some point, the both of you realized just how heavy your eyes were getting and drifted off around the same time. your head was still on his chest, and his chin was still on top of your head. neither of you moved.

-

it was late - 4:17 am, to be exact. you were somewhere between awake and asleep, not fully aware of anything. the room was dark and silent. the world outside was quiet.

the soft buzzing of your phone next to your pillow is what pulled you out of your slumber. you turned your body around to check, your back now to joshs chest, not even fully checking it as your eyes were still halfway closed.

and that’s when you heard it.

a soft, almost incoherent mumble.

“ma…” he had pulled you back closer to him.

you stilled. you were the only person he’d given the nickname to, he’d always remind you whenever you’d ask if he had someone new in his life.

you heard it again. slurred with sleep, “mmm… ma…”

it almost sounded like he was slightly groaning. like he was sighing.

your pulse jumped. eyes wide open. if you weren’t awake before, you were definitely awake and aware now.

“always been you, ma… i love you.”

um, what the fuck.

it wasn’t like you’ve said the words to each other before, but this time it felt different. what did he mean, always been you?

you slowly turned your face to face his, and your face and heart immediately softened at the sight. his lips were parted slightly, hair disheveled, eyes softly shut, brows furrowed in the kind of expression you have when thinking, dreaming about something real. something deep.

your brain started to work overtime, coming up with all kinds of scenarios and thoughts. you couldn’t even go back to sleep. how could you sleep when every time you close your eyes, you see his face? you hear his words?

by the time josh had woken up, you managed to get some rest for the past hour, although it was a very light sleep. so when he slightly turned his head, it was enough for you to stir awake.

he looked at you with a smile, “mornin’, pretty.”

“morning,” you reply, voice smaller than you intended it to be.

there was a beat of silence. it wasn’t awkward, just… thick. almost as if there was something unsaid that was sitting in the air between you two. (because there was.)

his hand came up to lightly move a strand of hair in your face, “you sleep okay?”

you hesitated. “you know you talk in your sleep?”

he froze.

“oh yeah?” to which you responded with a ‘mhm’. “about what?”

you looked up at him, searching his eyes. “you were talking about me.”

his mouth slightly parted, then closed.

“said you loved me,” your voice now barely above a whisper, “and that it’s always been me.”

josh stared at you. no teasing smile. no quick excuse. no joke to lighten the mood. just stunned silence.

“damn…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. and after a beat of silence, he continued, “i was dreamin’ ‘bout you, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

your heart skipped a beat. “so you meant it?”

“yeah baby, i did.”

he softly sighed.

“i been tryin’ to play things cool, tryna act like you don’t make me nervous and shit,” he starts, voice steady and sure. “but you in my head… in my chest, hell, even my sleep. and i’m tired of pretending like you ain’t. you the first person i look for in a room, in a crowd. you the first person i think of when i wake up and the last when i go to bed. you’re the first person i wanna call after a match, or after a long day. even started listening to ariana grande when you’re not around.”

he looked you dead in the eyes. “i’m in love with you mama.”

you just, stared at him.

and then without thinking, you reached out and brushed your fingers over his cheeks, your thumb resting right underneath his eye.

“i’m in love with you too baby,” you whisper.

his breath hitched. “fo’real?”

“as real as your love for waffle house,” you giggle.

and that sealed it for him.

he brought you even closer to him, slow and deliberate. he kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then your nose, then your lips - like it was a promise.

“m’so in love with everything about you mama. gon’ spend the rest of my life showing you just that.”

[sparklychaossheeppp]

hiii so basically I've got a request for Jason Todd and it's like when you first meet his family like bh accident and he's like really embarrassed but they love you and it's all super fun 😭😭

Have a nice dayyy

Hello! Thank you for the request, lovely. It's highly appreciated. I hope you have a nice day as well. ^_^ This is my first time properly writing for the batfam, so please do have mercy on my soul... 😓 I think I may make another version of this later with the same idea but different occurrences.

Word count : 762

Warnings : Possible OOC, implied shorter reader, no use of Y/N, Jason and reader have a pet cat, not proofread, short

Sunlight snuck their way through the bedroom curtains to make themselves known to the sleeping pair. Jason stirs slowly from his sleep, eyebrows furrow as he seeks refuge from the sun under the blanket.

With great annoyance he sat himself up in a sitting position, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He glanced over to the person who he had slept beside the night before, still in a deep realm of sleep. His eyes soften at the sight of them yet he drags himself out of bed to start his day.

Jason went through his usual morning routine of getting ready before heading to the kitchen, he retrieved the basic ingredients to create pancakes. He turned on the stove as he prepared his mix, pouring it onto the hot surface as his partner enters the room.

Jason’s lips curled into a soft smile as he looked over his shoulder at them. “Well good morning, beautiful.” He greeted, losing attention to the pancakes he was making.

They dragged their limbs over, eyelids barely open as they yawned. They stumbled over to watch Jason’s smooth and graceful culinary skills. “…good mornin’..” they hummed, giving Jason a lazy peck to the lips.

Jason had picked them up by under their thighs to place them on the counter, his eyes meeting their own. Jason’s eyes narrowed with determination, “mm- can I get a proper kiss?” Jason requests with a tint of teasing in his tone.

“hm. I don’t know, can you?” They responded with a raise of their brow, matching his cockiness. They did lean in however, lips connected with a sense of playfulness when, there’s a creaking heard and a gasp.

The both whipped their heads around to see Dick Grayson himself looking up at them with wide eyes and his jaw slack. “Jason?!” Dick said in a high pitched voice, hand to his chest for theatrics.

“Dick-“ Jason started, a flush consuming his face as he stepped away in an attempt to explain who his partner is.

“I’m definitely telling Bruce!” Dick announced with an shit-eating grin on his face, already retrieving his phone from his pocket. “Oh no, you’re not!” Jason exclaimed, taking off sprinting at the other man.

Jason's partner sat upon the counter, wide eyed before letting out a giggle at the absurdity of the situation they’re in. They had been aware of Jason’s family since about three months into the relationship. They had allowed Jason to decide when they were going to meet formally but, I suppose fate had other plans.

The two men had chased each other around till Jason had realized the pancakes had begun to burn. Dick was giggling maniacally as he made his escape to rat out Jason.

Jason had been rather embarrassed about their last encounter with one of the members of the batfamily… However, after a week, he finally decided to go out shopping with his beloved partner. He paced the aisles in search of where the hell they had moved flour to now..

He had finally located the flour he was on the hunt for when he heard the familiar voice of Dick along with his partners, not again…

He peaked over the side of the aisle with a raised brow. He spots Dick having a seemingly nice conversation with him as Jason walks over with his eye twitching and ears flushed red.

“Jay! We were just talking about you,” Dick informs, a pleasant smile on his face. “You should bring your partner over for dinner tonight,” Dick says, placing his hands on his hips.

Jason glances over at his partner , looking for any possible signs of discomfort or negative emotion. They meet him with a nod and content look on their face. “Fine, fine..” Jason nods.

The rest of the family had arrived before them, already in their seats that surround the table. Two chairs placed together are empty awaiting their arrival. The room was chatty up until Jason’s partner entered the room, The batfamily quickly blurted out curious questions to them as they sat down.

Jason could only sigh in embarrassment as they asked the basic questions, “how long have you been together?” “how did you meet?” “what’s your home address?” things of that nature up until Damian had inquired about their favorite animal.

“We have a cat?” They had informed, Damian gasping. “Todd, you have had a creature this entire time and didn’t tell me?!” Damian scoffs.

From there, the conversation delved into chaos. However, there was a warm, stable feeling to the room

Likes & reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

[lilliths-story-studio]

I hate her damn car.

It smells the same way she does, cloyingly sweet and everywhere in this confined space. Her navy curls have been piled into a messy bun, and all four foot, eleven inches of her is perched at the edge of her seat. Her adjustments to reach the pedals make me comfortable as a cat in a bath.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” I adjust against the discount-velvet seat, looking pointedly out the window.

Midnight had rolled into one and now hangs fifteen minutes shy of the second hour. Soft moonlight seems brighter than it should be, silver rippling over the patchwork of treetops that blanket near every undeveloped inch of these hills.

“You think loud.” She grumbles and I freeze.

Can she actually read my mind? Distaste bubbles from my stomach to my throat. No…no, too much wouldn’t have happened if that was the case. The air floods my lungs anew and I look back to find her just watching me.

“Are you even here?”

“Just trying not to choke on the gallon of perfume you soaked the car in.” I nod towards the road. “You wanna look forward, or do you just woo woo the car to and from hell.”

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?”

“Good chance.”

“What a wonder that I let you go.”

“I think that rope unraveled from both ends, sugar. Let’s be real.” She doesn’t have anything to say, and I have no interest in awkward silence. “So I’ll be real with you, I haven’t processed anything for the last hour or so. How the fuck did Bigfoot end up with your cousin?”

“Bigfoot?” I’m smarter than she thinks I am, the way she’s looking at me right now. But damned if I can remember that through the squirming of my stomach. “That’s what you got from our conversation?”

“I got a headache from our conversation, Cassy. What I didn’t get was anything that made actual sense.”

She shakes her head.

“You remember we told you to stay outta the woods at night?”

“Yep. Lots of times. You seemed a reasonable bunch until those trees were involved.” Or I started noticing holes in their stories.

“It’s because the wilderness in this area is…odd. There’s a lot of tales that get told about these woods and a lot more that don’t. After Evelyn’s friend went missing, she started looking for the stories that no one wrote down, for names no one was supposed to know.”

The car slows its roll over an old, iron bridge. Cassy pointedly presses her lips together and shakes her head as I open mine to speak.

It’s the ringing in my ear and the swirling in my gut more than her comically exaggerated moves that still my tongue. A skittering of nerves fire off like ants dancing down my skin, the sensation swelling and then abating as we reach and pass the midway point of the bridge.

It’s only once we’ve rounded two bends in the road and left the eerie threshold several miles in the rear view that the last of the ants falls away and Cassy releases a breath.

“What the hell was that?”

“Something you would have noticed four years ago if you’d ever been sober enough to connect to your nerve endings-“

“How many fucking times are you going to fish that shit up?“

“I can’t have you and your love of the bottle causing problems, Tasha.”

“The bottle I don’t fucking have on me? You came to me, remember?”

She shakes her head.

“If it’s not a problem, then it’s not a problem.”

“Then stop bringing it up.” I tap a-shave-and-a-haircut against the meager ledge intended to serve as an arm rest. “And tell me what just happened. I don’t remember any of the folktales out this way.”

“There wouldn’t be any for whatever that was - it’s newer. The natives that grew up here don’t interact with it, and they don’t have a name they’ll share for it. Say it’s something all the new folk have summoned in the last twenty years they’ve been moving out here. It’s making the place sick.”

“You passed all of your science classes, right?” I knew she had- I’d attended her graduation and congratulated her on the special-snowflake red sash that had signified something to do with super good grades.

“Did you?” It’s the sniff at the end that really sells the dig.

“Well enough for a good enough.” I flash her a wide smile and she ticks her disgust in the back of her throat.

“We haven’t named it - E and I just know we don’t use names near the bridge. It collects them and whispers them in the night.” She shakes her head. “I’m not entirely sure why yet.”

“That’s not too bad. It just says names?”

Another cutting look.

“Nothing collects names for no reason. Don’t be careless.”

“You never worried about it before.”

“Grand Junctions so far from its territory that I’m not worried. You’ll notice we were always silent or listening to music when we passed this bridge…” she trails off. Come to think of it, we had typically been out of sorts with one another anytime we drove in or out of the area. Had she just been stirring the pot on purpose, then? “Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to have a very big sphere of influence. Did you notice it drop off?”

“Like itchy water rolling off my skin?”

She presses her lips together for a second.

“Itchy water?” Up a note- she’s laughing at me.

“Get bent, Samantha. Was that it or not?”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ and then does a shit job of suppressing her giggles.

We slow and turn up a slender gravel road marked with a single wooden sign for Forsythia Farm. The wood itself is a light enough wash that the black letters are legible as we roll by in the dark. The handwriting would be a nicer touch if both of the hooks had been securely attached. As it stands, the sign dangles from a single point and waves like a broken arm.

I love this.

“I thought we were going to Grand Junction.”

“Not until we have her back.” She shakes her head, eyes darting about as the treeline encroaches closer to the road on either side. “My parents already told me once to drop the issue. If they realize I’m going looking for her…I won’t be getting back out of that town.”

“You know you’re a grown ass adult, right?”

“Don’t start.”

“Just pointing out facts.”

“Some of us care if we disappoint the people we love.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Sounds like a drag. Can’t relate.”

The car slams to a halt, and it’s my turn to compulsively check the inky dark eating everything past the first, closest couple of trunks. Is she really just gonna sit here after telling me how friendly these trees aren’t?

“If we do this fighting the whole time, we’re going to get killed, and your friend is going to die tied to that lot.”

Fuck, I hate it when shit she says makes sense.

“Now, do you want to try starting again? This time pretend you’re an adult.”

“Stop taking shots if you don’t want them fired back.”

“I’m trying to get this over with. Do you want to help or make it harder?”

The car starts moving again and we wind our way up from the foot of the Osage hills - about as presumptuously tall as a thousand piles of rocks can be, yet technically not a mountain range because of measurements and science I don’t understand. The drive splits to the left, where the farm sits settled atop a cleared plateau. The property itself holds only a small, dark, wooden cabin and a large, red barn several yards back from it.

Splitting to the right and away from the property, a set of worn tire tracks leads into the thicket of woods that dress the next sloping ascent.

“So where’s here?”

“It’s a farm that Thomas’s family owns and the place she was supposed to be staying before she vanished.”

“And no one thinks it’s weird his place is the last she was seen? That guy always set off my shit-o-meter.”

“Maybe you’re more connected than I thought.” She mutters more to herself before she pushes open the door. “Come on.”

What the fuck did that mean?

I snag my bag from the back seat while she digs hers out of the trunk, then follow her to the door of the cabin.

“Thomas didn’t do anything.” She says, jingling a silver key from her pocket. “Matter of fact, he’s the only other person who seemed worried when she didn’t come back.”

“Not even her parents?”

Cassy shakes her head.

“She’s been a hopeless nomad since she left for college. Nearly every weekend she and her friends were off on some kind of adventure and she didn’t always tell people where she was going. So they just assume she skipped out for summer break. Aside from Thomas, I can’t say if anyone else knew about the shit she and I got up to in those woods.”

I pause.

“Why does Thomas know? Isn’t he connected to the mayors office for that town? I thought you couldn’t trust anyone there with the whole witch thing.”

She rolls her eyes as she unlocks the cabin.

“A sickly, fourty year old man is hardly backup.”

“No, but he’s a prominent member of the tiny community your parents are so worried about. Surely his co-sign-“

“Would make people question his sanity at best. At worst, they call for a demonstration, and history tells us how kindly the aftermath treats the truth.”

My teeth click shut and she shoulders the door open.

“Has he been here since?”

“No, he doesn’t want to take any visible action or make anyone worry- folks out here are fond of their stories and they spook easy.” Cassy pockets the keys and flips on the lights to reveal the interior. “Shut the door. We’re not going out tonight- you need any kind of warding before we go any further in.”

“Warding?”

“Just shut the door.”

I do what she says, because I don’t have a good reason not to. She tosses her black, studded backpack onto the grey and brown couch.

“You’re like me- at least a little bit.” She says as she plops next to her bag to start unlacing her boots. “Never could figure out how much - it’s hard to channel drunk if you’ve never accessed your abilities before. The way that learning any new skill would be hard drunk.”

I don’t bark at her, because really what’s the point. Instead I drop my own grey bag onto the sandy hardwood and motion for her to continue.

“If you really have been sticking to beer, it might be easier. I don’t have time to teach you to do shit but ground and seal your energy, but that will make one less thing I have to worry about.”

“What help am I supposed to be, again? Right now it just sounds like extra work.”

“I remember you being pretty scrappy when the situation called.”

“Those were other drunks - not whatever hellspawn E went on a playdate with.”

“Then I guess we’d better stick with your other specialty- sneaking around.”

“I’m not the one living a double life.” I’m doing an admirable job of keeping my tone low and my hands busy playing with the new pendant hanging about my throat. “So you wanna try that again, sugar?”

“You’re light on your feet, see well in the dark and locked doors are a suggestion. Get as mad as you want. You’re the one who decided to become a cat burglar carnie.”

“Those are two separate entries on my resume, and I don’t appreciate the stereotype you’re perpetuating by conflating them.”

She yanks her boots free one at a time and drops them to the floor with a thud. Eye contact holds steady through theatrically exaggerated movements, and I’ve decided to borrow the Cheshire grin that Jax uses to piss me off when I’m in this same mood.

“My point is I want to sneak around trouble and steal E back - ideally avoiding any sort of fight.”

“Sneak where? The woods?”

“Close. The mines.” She nods to the door and wilderness beyond. I expect her to roll on but instead she stands and moves closer to the door. The otherwise golden handle has a sooty dark handprint where I’d pushed it shut. I turn my palms up- perfectly clean.

“So…what does that mean?”

“That you’re new to his home.” She turns back towards me. “Lots of things can take on the face of a friend - most of them are tricksters at best and malevolent at worst.” A small grin. “Black typically means murderous intent.”

I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to kill you-“

“The magic speaks louder than your protests. But I know you love your friends, so I’m not worried about it.” And clearly she’s not, given she marches right back by me to investigate the other three rooms. “Kitchen, bath, and a single bed trope.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t recommend separating until we’re done here. It’s hard enough to ward one room, let alone two.��

“I thought the cabin was warded. Magic lying door handle?”

“Magic doesn’t lie, but people do.” She waves me towards the bedroom and I cross my arms. “Seriously? You think the bridge was it?”

“What’s going to happen, Cassy? I’ve slept out in these hills before-“

“Slept walked, Tasha.”

And it’s true, but it hasn’t been an issue these past three years.

“I told you, it stopped.” I tilt my head. “Is there a reason I should be worried?”

“It wouldn’t matter, you’re not going to listen. Sleep on the couch. I hope it’s enlightening.”

She closes the door behind her and I contemplate the chance she isn’t full of shit. Looking at the couch once more I huff to myself and bang on the door. Whatever had motivated me to swallow my pride and knock dies a swift death when she opens the door with the most self-satisfied of smiles and a flourishing wave to the interior.

“I need a blanket and a pillow.”

Her smile drops and I wonder for a moment if I’ll ever enjoy painting it on rather than ripping it away again. The next moment I march past her to grab the aforementioned items and sashay my ass right back out with a determination born more of stubborn will than better sense.

This time when the door closes there’s a zip of some kind that seemingly flashes through the slats of wood. I lay my hand on the surface and find it hot to the touch. Curious, I move my hand to the knob and a lancing pain sears up my arm to my elbow.

I hear her giggling behind the door.

“Good Night, Tasha.”

“Go to hell, Cassy.”

Satisfied with our good-nights, I throw my wad of brown, fuzzy blanket and single, floral cased pillow onto the nightmare of a couch and eyeball the door. The black marring the knob hasn’t faded, and when I approach to drag a finger over the area of discoloration, the smudge spreads where the pad travels.

A small, soft thud on the other side of the wood jolts me from my study of the phenomenon. I decide it best to double check all of the locks and put myself to bed, before all of this woo woo talk and folksy, ghost story bullshit can steal my sleep as well as my better sense.

They’re just woods, for Pete’s sake.

"I'll be real with you, I havent processed anything for the past hour or so."

[thebumblebeesworld]

PAPA’S • HERE

part five • annie x smoke (ft. stack)

summary: striken with grief after losing his daughter, smoke runs away to chicago. what he doesn’t know is that annie is pregnant with his second child, at home alone, grappling with the grief and joy all at once. she drafts letters that she doesn’t send. she sends out prayers that she knows he won’t hear. but one day as annie opens her back door, she sees smoke, stooped at the grave of their daughter.

cw: grief, death of child, hoodoo, mentions of childhood trauma

a/n: can i skip elijah’s month five and annie’s month six?? or are y’all gon be mad? shoutout to @brownskincheyenne for inspiring elijah’s month six!! requested by @lizbehave

part one; part two; part three; part four.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

month four • elijah’s perspective

Once Smoke sent that first letter, it was like the words couldn’t stop flowing out and onto the page. Half of what he wrote were broken apologies. The other half were daily occurrences for the two twins.

He wrote every day, and he even found that writing at night when he had trouble sleeping provided him with a solace that he needed. It was like something was calling to him. A subconscious desire to document every feeling and thought he had—even if he didn’t send the letters to Annie.

He decided to honor the promise he broke, writing her every two weeks. She wasn’t writing him back, but he didn’t expect her to. He had broken something in her that couldn’t be repaired just by his words, but he still knew in his heart that she was receiving them. The mojo bag around his neck still vibrated against his skin as their connection remained tethered.

Besides writing Annie heartfelt declarations, Smoke had chosen to keep a journal.

On the pages of his notebook is where he found the calm he was looking for. He wrote all his thoughts, all his worries, all the things that made him sad and fearful. He wrote about his mother—how he wished she hadn’t died when he was so young. He wrote about his father—how he hoped he was rotting in Hell for the things he’d done to them as children. He wrote about his baby girl—how all he had ever wanted was for her to live a happy and full life; He wrote prayers that he’d get to see her again one day.

Smoke had never felt as safe as he did when he was sitting at that tiny wooden desk under the window, writing down every thought he seemed to ever have. It soothed his soul and set his heart on a course toward healing.

The peaceful energy reverberated around him, making him feel more whole as days passed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

month five • annie’s perspective

“I love you, baby girl,” Annie whispered as she sat down in front of her daughter’s grave. She ran her hands across the rock printed with her daughter’s hand. She smoothed over the dirt and rocks. “Your papa loves you.”

Annie never failed to remind both of her girls of their papa’s love. She knew he did, even if he wasn’t there. If he was there, he wouldn't fail to show it in every one of his actions. That’s one thing she always adored about Elijah: when he loved, he loved hard.

Sitting there with her legs crossed and her hands on her protruding stomach, she thought on the times in their youth when Elijah was so scared of loving someone other than his brother. He’d initially thought of it as a betrayal of everything the twins had been through together, but as he fell more in love with the hoodoo woman, he couldn’t resist.

Annie reminisced on the first time he said those three words. He was shaky, nervous, terrified—but full of youthful infatuation.

“Annie,” Elijah quipped, tone full of anxiety, voice low and deep. The girl looked toward him to see his head ducked down and his eyes pointed to the ground. They were outside of her grandmama’s house after a group outing. They’d been dancing and drinking and doing everything else young eighteen year olds do. She’d never seen Elijah so shy though. The entire night he had treated her with a certain stillness and quiet that he never had before.

“Yes, Elijah,” Annie asked, planting a hand around his jaw and lifting his eyes to meet hers. She saw his soften at the utterance of his birth name; His cheeks flushed and he smiled barely visible. She always prided herself on making his eyes and heart melt like that. All soft and sweet.

“I-I got somethin’ to tell ya’,” he choked out. The words got stuck in his throat at the way she watched him like she didn’t see the train robbing boy in him. She saw him for who he could be. Like she understood his entire story even if he didn’t have the courage to tell her everything just yet.

“Go on, suga’,” she encouraged. Annie bit her bottom lip as she took in the sight of him. Elijah was intoxicating to her. She needed every bit of him.

“Anne, I—God this is hard,” Elijah shook his head to rid his mind of those thoughts telling him to not be vulnerable. His eyes shut. His hands shook with violence and anxiety, but as he fought against himself, he felt warm palms wrap against his. Opening his eyes, he saw his once tremoring hands enveloped by Annie’s sturdy ones. His body calmed fully as he felt his stomach flutter with that delightful feeling he only got around her. “I love you,” he spoke without a second thought—earnest and confident.

Just thinking about it made her chest burn.

She missed him; She missed the innocence of their love. The death of their baby made them grow up faster than anything else had. It melted away the softness of their love. It ruffled the stillness they had found within each other.

Annie battled daily with thoughts of writing Elijah, even just to check in. But she knew that if she did write, he’d be able to read between the lines and find out about their sweet girl. Their love was just like that. He knew everything about her, and she knew everything about him—even if there were words left unsaid.

She didn’t want him to know; He couldn’t know. Not before he was ready to come home. Not until he thought it was the right time to walk back through her front door.

She could only hope that he was getting what he needed out of being away.

Annie had been feeling much better about the circumstances herself. Since she stopped praying so hard over Elijah, she was able to commune with the ancestors more effectively. They’d helped her put together the pieces she’d been struggling with. Her resentment and hatred toward Elijah didn’t fester as strong—although it was still buried deep in her body. And her fear of the unknown was drifting away.

Annie had been worried that her sweet girl would meet the same fate as her baby girl. It caused her body to ache terribly. Her mind swirled with so many possibilities of what could happen that it had begun to manifest itself in her physical health, but she couldn’t let that fear interfere with her life any longer.

Annie embraced the unknown, not going any further than praying for her baby to be healthy, happy, and safe. She took care of herself and listened to every one of her baby’s needs. She continued to eat as much as her body wanted and slept until she felt like waking. The more she listened, the more her aches went away.

“I think he’ll be home to us all fairly soon,” she spoke to her two girls. She felt more certain of that truth than she had most things recently.

At the sureness in Annie’s voice, her baby kicked against her stomach with a growing excitement. It made a giggle erupt in her throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

month six • elijah’s perspective

The two Delta twins were walking through the streets of Chicago, tracking down work. Since they’d been here, they’d both connected with the Italian and Irish Mafias, but as Smoke spent more time reassessing his life, he decided to drop all of that for a little bit more honest living.

They’d been working odd jobs: moving cases of alcohol from illegal breweries to speakeasies; being bouncers at jazz and blues clubs; hosting gambling nights for the whole tenement building to enjoy. Stack occasionally sold ass here and there, but Smoke didn’t too much agree with him on that.

Work was few and far between, but they’d saved a good bit of money to get by. Returning to Mississippi with the money they had stashed away would give them plenty of cushion to not worry about work for a while. Money stretched far more in the South that it did in the North.

As Smoke let out a grumbling sigh from being woken up to seek out work, Stack scrunched his nose up.

“Something ain’t right wit’ you,” Stack shook his head, looking his brother up and down. His glare was scrutinizing and concerned at the same time. “You been actin’ all weird recently. You sleepin’ all day, eatin’ us out of house and home, walkin’ ‘round with yo’ back achin’ like some old man, and bitchin’ and moanin’ every damn second of the day. What’s that about?”

“Ain’t ‘bout nothin’,” Smoke grumbled, clutching his notebook and pen in his hands. He’d taken to carrying it around with him as a way to quell his tremors when in public. He didn’t want to solely rely on tobacco anymore.

Stack was right, things had been growing increasingly weirder regarding his habits. As of late, he’d had some of the strangest cravings, waking up and going out into the night air just to fetch food. When he wasn’t eating, he was sleeping, creating a permanent dent in his cot. When he was up and about, all he did was complain about back pain and leg pain and foot aches.

It was exhausting.

“Shit, you actin’ like you pregnant or something,” Stack laughed heartily, grabbing onto his gut to stabilize himself. He was doing everything but rolling on the ground. “You lettin’ one of these fancy Chicago fillies fuck on you and you ain’t told me?” Smoke hadn’t so much as looked at a woman since they’d arrived six months ago. There was no woman that could peak his interest like Mrs. Annie Moore could. While Stack knew that, he still thought the joke was beyond hilarious.

But once Smoke snatched him up and threw him against a wall, his laughter seized. His twin seethed in his face, trying his best to not go any further with his anger.

“Boy, you know I been tryin’ to be less violent,” Smoke growled in his brother’s face, fists choking at his collar. He’d tucked his notebook safely into his back pocket before roughing Stack up. “You call me an adulterer one more time and I’m gon’ beat yo’ ass.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Stack pleaded, hands shaking and legs kicking as Smoke had him lifted up against the brick wall. Stack clawed at his brother’s hand until he finally put him down roughly. Smoke threw him a sideways look before continuing on walking down the sidewalk. “But for real,” Stack followed behind his twin, smoothing over the wrinkles in his shirt collar, “you need to do something wit’ yourself.”

Smoke shrugged off his brother’s comments, but a seed was planted in his head.

He has been feeling this strange pull. His gut was reacting to something, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. There was a familiarity to it that made his stomach lurch and his heart thump with anticipation.

Something inside of him called for him to make an immediate change—not out of impulsivity but out of a soulful yearning.

“Elias,” he paused midstep. His voice carried a seriousness, but his face was light. It was a look that Stack hadn’t seen in a long time. It was full of hope and content. He also hadn’t heard his brother utter his given name for months. The sound of it forced him to listen with urgency.

“Elijah,” he replied through his nervousness, flinching as he expected his brother to react negatively.

But he didn’t.

Stack hadn’t dared call his brother by his birth name since Smoke had stood over his quivering body on that train to Chicago. He remembered the trembling in his hands and the fear that surrounded him as he stared into his brother's hurt and anger-filled eyes. He thought he lost a part of his twin that day, expecting to never get him back.

As he said ‘Elijah’ for the first time in six months, his brother just looked at him and smiled a wide and gentle smile. He sighed before speaking:

“I think it’s high time we head back home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

tagged folks are down in the replies!!

[teencopandthesourwolf]

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS

written for the @sterekdrabbles 06/06/25 challenge where the prompt words were DECAY, RUN, and BURST. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as this obviously went long lol. the title is borrowed from the emily dickinson poem of the same name.

.

In hindsight, sleeping at the old house was a pretty fucked up thing to do.

Laying your head in the eternally-charred ruins of your childhood home (on nights you're lucky enough to not be fighting for your life) was like being stuck on some sort of witch cursed roller coaster. The ride traversed a perilous track that set off at A Lot, lurched through the many gut-wrenching dips of Not Enough, to then end with a showstopping loop-the-loop finish of Much Too Much.

Maybe getting used to the smell of cinder and smoke was inevitable, because after a while Derek's senses barely seemed to register any ashen notes at all.

What lurked beneath was all that was left of Derek's pack. A bittersweet bouquet of shattered memories lingered in the bones of the Hale house, like an old fracture you suffered while checking an activity off your bucket list.

He hadn't thought there was anyone to question him on how he felt about it, but if somebody were to ask, Derek would pretend he didn't want to talk about the way he'd sometimes get a fragrant burst of the long-dead Lily of the Valley flowers his mom planted around the perimeter of the property, back before any of her children were born; or how he'd occasionally scent the sharp tang of whatever edible berries his younger siblings picked from the bramble bushes found in the northern parts of the preserve, sticky fingers rarely managing to bring home more than half their findings to be baked in a pie by Derek's dad; or how every now and then he'd catch the warm haze of melted wax from the candles he and Laura sometimes made together on rainy Sunday afternoons as children, infused with homegrown spearmint and lavender, or cinnamon and moss.

But just as the smell of burning had all but evaporated into the ether, the ghost-scents of Derek's family eventually drifted off into obscurity, too.

In the end, the only true essence Derek could detect of his loved ones was the cloying stench of decay, as constantly nauseating as it was horribly permanent. The stink of it settled in for the winter, taking up residence at the back of his throat, which was the same place his heart lived these days. That mess of an organ had been beaten and broken and nailed back together so many times by this point, it didn't sit as snugly as it might have done once upon a time, taking up more real estate than it was supposed to. There simply wasn't enough room in there for both to exist, each too big and too loud. Something had to give if Derek was to keep on surviving. If he was ever going to live again.

The flashbacks—remembered sensations of being cornered and tricked and orphaned, of being goaded, tortured by proxy—were back and threatening to take over Derek's psyche completely, likely to consume what remaining sanity he had left from the inside out.

Derek had to escape, needed to flee the waking nightmare he'd found himself in. He wanted to run again, and keep running, to get himself as far as possible from the living hell this rotting place had liberated in his mind.

So he ran, and he didn't look back.

The difference this time, was it turned out Derek wasn't running away but toward something.

The storm that had been brewing all day broke at the very same time Derek found himself outside 129 Woodbine Lane, standing directly under the chronically-open window situated at the front of the pale blue and white timber-clad house. With the sudden summer downpour soaking him instantly as it pelted down in harsh sheets, he quickly breathed in the heady mix of everything that room contained, before it got washed down the drain along with the dirt and the rain.

He scented engine oil and highlighter ink, coffee, Big Red gum and Skittles, all overlaying the spice of sweat and Sliquid™ and spunk—the cheap pine plug-ins and too much Lynx Africa body spray bravely attempting yet failing to mask it. The redolence wafted down brashly, filling Derek's nostrils with a sense of not just Teenage Boy, but something more curious; a base note that recently started smelling as if it could take flight, maybe even carry off some of Derek's grief and shame on its back.

Then the wretched thing that hid behind Derek's ribcage began to unfurl itself. Little by little, like a fern uncoiling at first light, it hesitantly emerged, seemingly recognising a sense of promise rather than threat for the first time in forever.

And when Derek scaled the building and climbed inside through Stiles's open bedroom window, and as he stood there dripping all over Stiles's carpet as Stiles looked at him from across the room like he understood, and like he cared, then blessing the rest of Derek's days with the word stay, Derek found he could be brave enough to not let himself worry about it, and he answered Stiles with the word okay.

.

[agent19mockingbird]

For her part, Natasha wasn’t surprised to hear and know that Bucky was nervous; hell, it helped to know that he was feeling the same way she was. Not that she wanted him to feel that way, but it was comforting knowing she wasn’t alone.

“We’ll have to talk to them and see, with no pressure from us. I don’t want you to want it just for me; I want you to want it for you, too. For both of us together, and for them. Because we could be doing this with say Steve and Sharon, and that would likely be a very different experience than this.

She smiled as she watched him shake his head like a dog, laughing as she got pelted with water droplets. “Mmhmm, let’s. I’m rather wrinkled,” she replied as she turned the shower off and handed him a towel, using the other one for herself to begin drying off.

————————

Bobbi’s brow furrowed as she observed him. Something about the way he was behaving made her uncomfortable, like he was going to behave in some way she already knew she wouldn’t like. She shoved that feeling down, hoping she was wrong. She nodded at his explanation, unable to stop the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Well, let’s get dried off, get dressed and we can keep conversation between us light for the rest of the night. Plus our groceries should be here by now so we have soup and grilled cheese to look forward to,” she said with a tiny smile.

She shook her head. “I get it, but let’s hold off on talking about that for now. We can sort that out later.”

Bobbi hummed softly at the kiss and began drying herself off. To find that Clint hadn’t gone to get dressed as they’d planned made her frown, that sickly feeling in her gut growing. She didn’t have to be able to read minds to know where he’d went. Bobbi wrapped and rolled her towel around herself before making her way out to the kitchen and finding him holding a beer. She knew he was upset from earlier, that was understandable. It was the fact that he hadn’t even stopped to get changed that concerned her, but she pushed that aside and took a deep breath.

“I’d really hoped I wouldn’t find you in here. Lost that bet with myself. Babe, I know that things aren’t great and that neither of us is in the happiest place right now. I’m not going to pretend to know why you have that in your hand, but I will say this: you have a couple of options. You can drink that and however many others, though I would you ask you kept it to just one and I’d prefer you didn’t drink it at all; it’s a not good way to handle things and it’s a horrible coping mechanism from when we weren’t together as well as your childhood. Your second option is that you can use me in whatever capacity you need and I won’t judge you, be it physically, emotionally or otherwise. We can sleep however you want tonight, just the two of us together or apart, or all four of us. Whatever will help you. I know I messed up by not telling you and I hurt you, but Lincoln Slade is not worth sinking into a bottle for. I’m definitely not worth that, not again,” she told him levelly, her voice wet sounding.

“Well, considering the response it usually gets me, which is you tapping out and me winning in two ways, you could say I like doing it,” Natasha smirked down at him with a wink. “And you won’t hear many complaints from me about that being your favorite place to stick your head.”

She nodded in agreement, understanding where he was coming from completely; among the list of reasons she’d been attracted to Clint initially was how hot he was. “I know what you mean. I’m nervous, too. I’ve certainly flirted with lots of women but I’ve never slept with any of them. I agree; I think making out first will help break the ice between all of us and is a good place to start.”

“Uh huh,” she replied with a teasing roll of her eyes. She tilted his head back gently and began running her fingers through his hair, making sure to get all the suds out. “I also think that if you’re nervous, and once we’ve made sure that Clint and Bobbi are okay, that you say something. They could also be nervous or scared or excited, just like we are.”

——————

Bobbi shook her head in agreement; the mission they were on was a big one and Fury had impressed its importance on them multiple times before they’d left and since. “I know, I get what you mean. I don’t want anyone to have to come in and replace us and I’m worried about that. But more importantly, I understand what you mean about trying to do that conversation here and your worries about it. What would help you relax that isn’t harmful to you or to anyone else? What can I do to help?” she asked softly.

She returned to washing her body as she watched him be silent for a long moment. She’d already pushed him to speak his mind once before and wasn’t going to do so again. Once he spoke, she frowned as she considered what he said. “That’s….hmm. I get why you might be feeling that way, and that’s understandable. Let’s table that discussion for now until it’s a better time for us to talk to Bucky and Nat about it. They should be included in it, you know? It’s only fair. And we can gauge where they’re at and how they feel about it happening or not too.”

“Mkay,” Bobbi nodded, nuzzling him for a moment. She finished washing her body and rinsed off, watching him with a smile as she waited. Once he was done, she reached out and grabbed their towels, handing one to him to use.

[alisonsfics]

spies see everything

pairing: john walker x thunderbolt!reader

summary: you should’ve known that a secret relationship with john while living with spies could only last so long. so, you’re not exactly shocked when yelena bursts into your room and finds you both in bed.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: reader has ice powers

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” John said. His voice came out soft and gentle. You couldn’t see his face in the dark room, but you could perfectly imagine that soft doting smile.

His limbs were intertwined with yours, perfectly melded together under the sheets. The mixture of the warmth his body was radiating and the feeling of his arms wrapped around yours made your whole body relax and feel fuzzy.

He nuzzled his face further into your neck, pressing kisses down your collarbone. “It’s getting late. You should head back to your room before you fall asleep.” You tried to pull out of his grasp.

His grip around your waist tightened, not letting you leave his side. “What if I stayed over tonight? Just wanna keep on holding you,” he said, peppering kisses on your face.

“It’s too risky. What if someone sees you leave my room in the morning? Or if they go to your room and can’t find you?” You made excuses. Of course, you didn’t want John to leave.

Your relationship existed strictly behind closed doors. Neither of you wanted to mess with the team dynamics. If they found out that you both were dating, you both would never hear the end of it.

So, you both settled for late nights in each others arms before one of you snuck out to go back to your own room.

“Please, sweetheart? I’ll wake up early and go back to my room. I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms, just this one time.” He begged you, sealing your lips in a kiss. You melted into the kiss, your hands sneaking around to the nape of his neck.

“Fine, but just for tonight,” You mumbled, against his lips.

“God, I love you.” He said, covering your face in kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle at the affection. “You’re such a dork. Now go to sleep.” You said, laying your head down on his chest.

You both should’ve known that secrets were absolutely a no-go in a tower full of spies.

Because while you both were falling asleep, unbeknownst to you, Bob, Yelena, and Ava were all in the kitchen. Yelena was making them all macaroni and cheese as a late night snack.

She left the kitchen for only a couple minutes, instructing Bob to watch the pan. When she came back, the pot was on fire and Bob and Ava were scrambling to find the fire extinguisher.

“How do we not have a fire extinguisher? How are we supposed to put out fires?” Ava snapped at Bob.

“What did you do?” Yelena yelled, watching the flames that were slowly growing out of the pan. She turned on her heel, running down the hall to your room to see you— the member of the team who had ice powers. It was the only solution Yelena could think of.

She slammed your door open, standing in the doorway. “We need your help in the kitchen.” She yelled, waking you up. The room was so dark that her eyes took a minute to adjust.

“Who started a fire this time?” You mumbled as you sat up and stretched the sleep from the muscles.

“What’s going on?” John grumbled beside you.

You froze as he spoke. You quickly swatted his side, pulling the blankets over his head. It was too late. Yelena had heard him.

“Walker? What the hell?” She asked, standing speechless.

“What were you saying about a fire?” You asked, quickly jumping out of bed and trying to distract her.

She stood frozen in place, trying to react to what she’d just walked in on. You raced past her towards the kitchen, tying your hair up in a ponytail.

When you got to the kitchen, you saw Bob and Ava trying to splash water on the fire. “What is going on?” A sleepy Bucky wandered into the room, followed closely by Alexei.

You shot a quick blast of frost over the pot, quelling the flames down. A soft sizzle filled the room as the pan cooled down.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.” Bob quickly apologized, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy.” You heard Yelena yell as she rounded the corner, dragging John behind her.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Bucky asked, groggily.

“Yelena, c’mon seriously? Let me go.” John tried to pull himself out of her grip but she was more determined than he was.

“Wanna explain to the group why Walker was in your bed?” Yelena asked, looking at you.

The room was silent for a second, and then it exploded into chaos. Your teammates’ shock was clear as they all yelled at you and John. They asked questions like “why didn’t you tell us?” and “you guys are together?” and “how long have you been together?”

You couldn’t focus on what any of them were saying as all their voices blended into a large mess of noise.

Alexei was the first to step towards you. “I’m so happy for you both. Powerful heroes brought together with love.” He said, lifting you off the ground in a bear hug.

“I’m very happy for you two. But can I go back to bed now?” Bucky asked, grumpily.

“Go ahead,” you giggled as Alexei continued to hold you up in the air. You squirmed, trying to get down.

Finally, he set you back on your feet. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.” Ava said, looking between the two of you.

“That’s the point of a secret.” John said, walking over to you and looping his arm around your waist. They all resisted the urge to “aww” at the sweet gesture.

“Ewww wait does that mean…when I heard gross sex noises the other day from Walker’s room that was you two.” Yelena said, shuddering at the thought.

You smacked John’s chest. “I told you that we weren’t home alone, and you didn’t believe me.” You hissed at him.

“That’s disgusting. I’m going to bed.” Ava said, leaving the room.

“So, you knew I was seeing somebody?” John asked, looking back at Yelena. Thinking about it, you were surprised they hadn’t found out sooner.

“Well yeah but I just thought it was some girl we didn’t know, so there weren’t any mental images. God, I’m never going to get that image out of my head.” She said, disgusted.

“Well, I’m really happy for you guys.” Bob said, giving you both a cheerful smile. You nestled further into John’s side. “Thanks, Bobby.” John said.

“I think we should be proud of them. That’s the job of us super soldiers— to make more smaller little super soldier babies.” Alexei said, nudging John with his arm.

John froze and his cheeks turned pink. You both had worried about the team being apprehensive, but this was too far in the other direction. “That’s my cue to leave. My girlfriend and I are going to bed now.” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him.

“Yes, go continue your family line.” Alexei cheered after you both.

John quickly pulled you back to your room. “You better love me because we are locking ourselves in this room forever and never facing them again.” He said, as he collapsed into your bed.

“Sounds like good plan to me.” You said, curling up into his side.

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