#but i simply liked the idea of setting this in the fifties and the awkwardness of marty being like oh yeah so this happened

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 25 / 31 * CAFE 」

November 7, 1955

❝Alright,❞ Emmett says, holding up the bag in his hand, ❝this should be enough time-appropriate clothing for you to get you through the rest of the week. I would have given you something out of my closet, however—❞

Marty puffs out his cheeks, looking the much-younger iteration of his best friend up and down. ❝I know, Doc. I'd be swimming in anything you gave me out of there. Thanks, by the way. For buying this stuff for me. I didn't want to put you out or anything—❞

Emmett shakes his head. ❝Nonsense, Marty, it's no trouble. It's the least I can do.❞ The last thing the boy needed to add to his mounting pile of worries was clothing and lodgings and despite this being the result of the negligence of his future counterpart—how could I have allowed this to happen?—the fault seemed to ripple back through the timestream to fall solely on his shoulders.

Marty may have inadvertently jeopardised his existence, but it was his time machine that had sent him back here in the first place, perpetuating the entire situation.

❝Doc, you've already done so much for me. Or, uh, you will. Besides, I don't have a chance of getting back to the future without you.❞

Emmett checks the time on one of his wristwatches and presses his lips together in a tight line. 15:27. It's still early enough in the afternoon where they have plenty of time to start gathering more of the necessary supplies needed to finish the modifications to the time vehicle, but given Marty's rough arrival in this time period barely two days ago and the way he had collapsed on the couch in the early hours of the morning leaves him wondering if he would be up for any further running around.

There was still much to be done, but he didn't want to exhaust Marty further than was necessary and he still had to be conscious of his needs.

They had managed a small breakfast earlier that morning once Copernicus had decided to leave Marty in peace, but if his hunch was correct, Marty would need much more of a meal than the eggs and toast he'd whipped up to hold him over.

Perhaps their purchasing an additional meal would have some drastic effect on the diner's revenue, or prevent ingredients from being used as they were meant to be. Perhaps the ingredients would never have been used and simply gone bad.

Possibility brought with it uncertainty, but Marty's presence in this time period meant that he needed to be cared for just as he would have in his own time, and that meant the essentials: food, clothing, and so on. With things being the way they were, it was unavoidable that his presence should have some small effect on the timeline.

If they didn't go out for lunch now, he would spend that additional money at the grocery store. And since they were already out...

Emmett would simply have to hope this didn't all catch up with him for the worst in 1985.

❝It's three-thirty now; how do you feel about stopping for lunch, Marty? Lou's Cafe is just a block over and we still have plenty of time before Saturday.❞

Marty scrunches his face as he tries to pretend his stomach isn't growling at the thought of food. ❝Isn't this going to, I don't know, screw something up if we go there? Buying another meal that wasn't purchased before or something, changing the timeline?❞

Emmett sighs and Marty gives him a look when he doesn't even take a couple seconds to think over his answer. ❝Such things are unavoidable; you need to eat.❞

When Marty starts to rub anxiously at the back of his neck, Emmett's brows furrow. Even after two days, it was becoming apparent that this was one of the boy's tells; that he would often touch the back of his neck or run a hand through his hair when he was nervous or withholding information.

❝Did something happen here, too, Marty?❞

His awkward laugh says it all.

❝Well, uh, this is where I first ended up when I got into town because I saw they had a phone. That's how I found you; you're in the phonebook. Spelled your name wrong, too. Oh, and this is where I first met my dad—by accident!—and—anyway, the guy in there, he also thought I was with the Coast Guard and, uh, let's just say things got a little...awkward.❞

He doesn't need Marty to fill in the gaps; he can already imagine the future boy's far-forward slang and mannerisms garnering weird looks from the people of Hill Valley.

❝Don't worry about that,❞ Emmett says, and Marty throws a curious look up at him. ❝I have an idea.❞

❝You're the doc, Doc,❞ Marty acquiesces after barely a moment, placing a level of trust in Emmett that is both foreign, yet oddly comforting. ❝Then let's go; I'm starving.❞

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 5!

Finally, another chapter!! Back to Percy's POV~ oh I absolutely adore writing him being head over heels for Nico 💕💕

Some more internal panicking, some more flirting, and they're finally getting to know each other~~ 💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~~~

Percy went to the beach two days after ready to bury himself under the sand as soon as he saw Nico, and at the same time ready to show off the best surfing moves he knew. 

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar, that was what Nico had said. 

Percy had been replaying that moment in his head so many times in the last fifty hours it was now indelibly engraved in his memory. He could picture it perfectly, like it was still right before his eyes - the afternoon light bathing Nico in pretty shadows, that single strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail and was falling on the side of his face, the numerous earrings on his ears shining in the sun, the way he was biting and playing with those on his lips (it must have been an habit of his, and it definitely was an image that had been driving Percy crazy since the first time he had noticed it); Percy had clearly taken him off guard, and his expression had been the prettiest mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Percy had been ready to make up some silly excuse and run away as far as possible to hide his embarrassment and cursing his stupid impulsive mind for even thinking that saying something like let me teach you how to surf to someone he barely even knew was a good idea. 

And yet.

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar.

He felt like screaming, felt like he could surf all day long even without waves if it meant Nico would look at him.

To be honest, flirting with him hadn’t really been his intention. He just wanted to talk to him, exchange more than those few words of courtesy that were needed to buy something. 

He had not expected it to be this easy.  Somehow, the words had come out easily, and the conversation had felt awkward but nice and natural at the same time - and maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he couldn’t help but think Nico had enjoyed it too.

The smile on his lips had been genuine, the way he had laughed (and oh, wasn’t that the sweetest sound ever? Percy would gladly listen to it forever), talking and asking questions like he hadn’t wanted the conversation to end. 

Somehow flirting had come so natural to Percy as he looked at him - the need of getting to know him, to impress him somehow, to make him smile, to make the moment last as long as possible, all mixing and tangling together; somehow, that had resulted in the filter between his brain and mouth shutting off completely.

It seemed Nico hadn’t minded too much though. Percy’s heart was playing athletics in his chest as he thought about it once again. 

Calm down, he told himself, trying and failing to get a grip on his derailing thoughts. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say and said the first thing he could think of.

Okay, but did he really have to say that? 

He shook his head. No need to think about it, he’d just have to go and face the consequences of his own actions.

Despite all the time spent thinking about it, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.

The beach was as hot and nice and crowded as it always was, but Percy couldn’t concentrate on how that usually made him feel, couldn’t ignore his nervousness and the way his insides were tangling and curling together out of anxiety and anticipation.

He didn’t even have Annabeth with him today - he was almost tempted to call her just to scream his struggles to her once again; she was probably tired of listening to him freak out and would tell him to simply go and talk to Nico again. Was she right? Of course she was. Did that make Percy feel any better? Not really, to be honest.

He sighed as he set everything up and got ready. 

Would Nico look at him like he said he would? The simple thought made Percy shake.

He took up his surfing board, heart beating ridiculously faster than it should as he moved closer to the shore. 

And then, right before getting into the water, he turned around. 

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but there he was, the boy of Percy’s dreams, looking back at him. 

They were far enough from each other that Percy couldn’t see Nico’s expression clearly- maybe he had just happened to be looking that way for a moment. Percy almost expected him to simply turn around and look away like nothing had happened.

But then, Nico raised a hand and waved lightly. Percy’s heart did a flip as he waved back, a smile growing on his lips. 

For a handful of seconds, there was no one else on that beach but them.

Then Nico’s attention was called back by a customer, and with one last glance at Percy, he went back to work. Percy stood there, eyes still fixed on him and smile still in place, for a little longer.

Maybe he’ll be really looking at me, after all.

He was definitely ready to show off everything he could do.

~~~

They weren’t friends exactly, probably not even acquaintances. But something had shifted, and Percy could feel it every time he went to the beach - it wasn’t just him, wasn’t just the anticipation he felt or the way he spent most of his time thinking about the next time he would see and get to talk to Nico again; no, it was in the way they waved at each other in greeting when Percy got there (or sometimes when Nico’s shift started later and Percy got on the beach before him), or the way Nico was always the one who took Percy’s order at the kiosk, the way he smiled at Percy like he was happy to see him, the way Percy let himself linger there for as long as he could and Nico would never shy away from small talks.

It was all the little things piling up that made Percy’s heart run around like crazy, and he couldn’t hold back the smile coming up on his lips every time - he just hoped it didn't look as enamored and lovestruck as he felt.

His crush was growing every day, every moment. Percy could feel himself fall harder and harder with every new word exchanged, every new smile and little laugh, every new thing he learned about Nico. He was probably going a little crazy with how much he liked that boy.

He went to the beach as often as he could, even just to get a glimpse of him and for those fast and precious moments they got to share.

Today he hadn’t planned on going, but he had finished earlier at work and his feet had brought him there almost without him realizing. It was later than usual, and he didn’t even have anything with him. Yet there he was, sitting at his usual place at the kiosk, trying his best not to make it obvious that he was looking at Nico, busy with another customer.

“Nico will take your order in a moment”, the other guy, the blond one who also worked there, told him. 

“It’s okay, I can wait”, Percy replied. It took him a moment to realize that it was weird that the guy hadn’t simply taken his order himself. He worked there too, right? And he didn’t look busy, he was just there chatting with an elf-looking Mexican guy. 

Percy didn’t know if he was feeling more grateful or more embarrassed at this - was it really that obvious that he was there for Nico? At the same time though, the fact that apparently it was a thing, that Percy was Nico’s own customer, that the other guy didn’t even question it, like he knew it - well, it was making Percy feel stupidly giggly and hopeful.

“Ehi, hi Percy”, Nico greeted him, and Percy finally got out of his own head, but only to feel himself fall once again as he met Nico’s eyes and pretty smile. “The usual?”

“Hi, Nico”, he said. His throat felt dry, his heart lost a beat or two. “Yeah, thanks”.

Oh he was too pretty. Annabeth and Grover had laughed at him when Percy had spent a whole evening telling them about every little detail of Nico’s features, how he must have been an angel - because there was no way a human being could be that incredibly and otherworldly beautiful, right?

No, you’re just completely gone for that guy, Seaweed brain, Annabeth had said.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen you having this big of a crush, Percy, had been Grover’s contribution.

And they were both absolutely right. Percy really didn’t remember the last time he had been so head over heels for someone, couldn’t even remember the last time he had had a crush at all. But Nico - god, Nico was making him feel everything all at once.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today”, Nico said, and Percy’s brain short-circuited for a moment. So Nico thought about seeing him? Did he look forward to see him just as much as Percy did? 

“The weather isn’t so good and it looks like the waves aren’t big enough to surf”, Nico kept going.

Percy needed a second to find his words, too enraptured by the shy yet curious look in Nico’s eyes. He had such a nice voice, too, Percy loved listening to him talk.

“Uhm, yeah, I actually wasn’t planning on coming today”, he managed to say in the end. “But I finished earlier at work, so I thought I’d pass by and get my favorite drink”.

Nico smiled softly at that, and Percy counted it as a victory.

“You’re literally the only one who orders this”, Nico said.

“So it’s like a special drink just for me?”

Flirting came to him way too easy when he talked to Nico. Maybe it was the need to see the light blush tinting his cheeks. He blushed so easily, and it was always so evident on his pale skin. Percy loved it.

This time too, Nico rolled his eyes at him, but the blush was there. It was starting to become Percy’s new favorite color.

“Where do you work at?”, Nico asked after a moment. Percy didn’t mind too much that he had ignored his previous flirting. It was endearing, really, that Nico was so shy. 

“Oh I teach kids how to swim at the pool near here”.

Somehow, that seemed to hit Nico, because he stopped to look at Percy with such surprise and awe in his eyes that it was Percy’s turn to blush in embarrassment. He was looking at him like Percy had just told him he went around saving the world on a daily basis.

“That’s so…”, Nico started, then stopped, cleared his throat and looked away. “That’s cute. You look like you’d be good with kids”.

“You think so?”, Percy smiled.

He liked sharing things with Nico, liked telling him about himself, cherished it when Nico told him something about himself. 

“Do you like working here?”

“I do, I guess. It’s a good summer job”, Nico said, meeting Percy’s eyes. “And it’s allowing me to meet some interesting people”.

Percy's heart started to beat ridiculously loud in his chest. “Yeah? You don’t look like you like meeting people a lot though”.

That made Nico’s laugh. Percy sort of wanted to drown in the sound.

“I don’t, usually”, Nico said. “But I guess I can make an exception for some people”.

Percy wanted to kiss him so bad. Wanted to take him on a date and make him smile and laugh the whole time, wanted to hold his hand as he told him about himself, wanted to share everything he could with him, wanted to card his fingers through his dark silky hair and pull him closer and closer to him until he could press his lips to his and feel the rings under his teeth.

“Some special people?”

Another laugh, and that beautiful shade of pink on his cheeks. “Yeah, special”.

Oh Percy was so far gone for him.

[mothgodofchaos]

Couch

Another Yancy fic, this time not from the car. Yes, I’m going to remember to properly tag it this time. 

Yancy x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 792

He’s been out for a couple months. He insisted on crashing on your couch for only a couple weeks, but you insisted that he stick around instead of trying to find another place. You never minded the extra company anyways. Eventually you started joining him on the couch, snuggling up with him, totally platonically, after a movie night together when he fell asleep with his head in your lap. You were showing him some of the movies that he had missed while he was in prison, and it had eventually gotten late, a cold evening under the blanket as you both were dozing off. Eventually he laid down at your insistence, although you did try and offer your bed since you were taking up his normal spot. He refused, mumbling something about not wanting to intrude. You assured him, but you both settled for him laying down on the couch, with you there. Until one night you came home, and found him looking very distressed at the dining room table. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter, sitting across from him on the opposite chair. “Yancy, what’s going on, buddy…?” “My buddies back at the big house don’t’s wants to write to me no more, sayin’ I’m “too changed”.” He looks at you sadly, before putting his head on the table on top of his arms, crossed in front of him. You reach out your hand, patting his head lightly as you try and find the words to comfort him. None of your usual ideas fit in your mind, so you opt for your second choice. “How about we go out, take your mind off of things, just the two of us.” “Like- like a date??” “A platonic one. Between friends.” He seems both relieved and perhaps disappointed at your answer, his face difficult to read past the obvious heartbreak. You go put on a different set of clothes, a pair of jeans, a tight fitting black tee, and a leather jacket to match his. You ran out of room for patches on his, and he got you one for your birthday. When you come out, he beams a little at you, going to grab his jacket and your helmets. He hands you yours, “3S” on the side of yours and “10LS” on his. You never could figure out what they meant, but they seemed to mean something to him when he got them custom ordered. You head out to his bike, taking your usual spot behind him, your arms wrapped around his waist in a totally platonic way. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. “Where to?” “I’m thinking that diner downtown with the roller skating waitresses. Sound good?” “Sounds great!” He slides down his visor, popping yours down too before you drive downtown. You both enjoy the view, sun setting in the autumn sky. The diner is fun, filled with fifties decor and waitresses who probably had “balancing” as a dump stat. You share some giggles over your food, until his shake is spilled on the floor. He goes to just order a new one, but you simply ask for a second straw. “Youse don’t haveta share! I can gets a new one!” “Yeah, but I want to. It’s okay.” He blushes, sharing the milkshake with you. You can’t help but look into his big, brown eyes, shining in the light of the neon signs. You find yourself getting lost in them, until you realize he’s staring back at you, making you both blush. The shake is finished in silence, both parties avoiding eye contact, with an awkward walk back to the bike. The drive home continues the quiet, the sounds of only loud crickets and the road before you arrive home, walking into your apartment, him looking particularly sheepish. “Could- uh- could I ask youse somethin’?” He rubs the back of his neck, bashful and seemingly embarrassed about what he is trying to muster up the courage to say. “Y-yeah, go ahead.” “Could we’s call that a real date? Been meanin’ ta ask youse, and uh- I’s think that counts…” You look at him, remembering the five years you spent, waiting for him. How much he means to you. All the small things. But most of all, how much he cherishes the jacket you saved for him, and all the patches you collected. “Yeah, I think we can.” He beams at you, pulling you into a kiss, spinning you around. You both pull out of it, stunned at his enthusiasm and equally blushing. He stutters out an apology as you catch his lips in another kiss. Why continue to look for a bigger apartment when you only need one bedroom? Couches are meant for sitting anyways.

[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’ 

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 

That’s life for you. 

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 

You to come back. 

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 

It’s his fault after all. 

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this  : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce. 

Denial isn’t healthy.

 But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts. 

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

 Impulsive decisions never end well.

 So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice. 

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial. 

Maybe I should have been.

 The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back. 

Terrible choice.

 In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it. 

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet. 

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up. 

I had wanted to go back. 

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared. 

Scared that I was being weak.

 That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him. 

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the  assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not. 

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country. 

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that  someone  was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded. 

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the  door, unlocking it and stepping in. 

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. . 

I could already feel a headache coming on. 

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?”  I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket. 

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned. 

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34,  He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo. 

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds. 

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of  hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with  a better excuse the next time i ask you out.” 

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after. 

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?” 

i stared at him. 

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug. 

He frowned. 

“The new girl? Why?” 

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...” 

“I can’t forget about that night.” 

I froze. 

God. 

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

 He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off. 

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together 

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon. 

A marathon runner ,  he didn’t drink or smoke.  

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule. 

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance. 

But , it is what it is. 

“That sounds like a  you  problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be  one  night  with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .” 

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little. 

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up. 

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that” 

He chuckled. 

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.” 

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?” 

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised. 

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step. 

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged. 

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’ 

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded. 

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied. 

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny. 

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?” 

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “ 

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.” 

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried. 

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently. 

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged. 

“Or what?” 

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.” 

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort. 

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.” 

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.” 

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet  still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly. 

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t     you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation. 

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “  I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?” 

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle. 

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.” 

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work. 

I didn’t have to. 

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown. 

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung. 

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...” 

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly. 

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly. 

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....” 

I nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time. 

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.” 

I nodded. 

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.” 

I shrugged. 

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.” 

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed. 

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook” 

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there. 

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely. 

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile. 

This is why i hated men. 

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash. 

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly. 

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it. 

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.” 

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled. 

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut . 

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough. 

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly. 

They  both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook. 

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away. 

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward. 

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually. 

I groaned.

“Don’t start.” 

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.” 

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped. 

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness. 

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think? 

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[rouiyan]

𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌, <3 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

synopsis: in which the worst christmas ever takes a turn for the better (and it rhymes!)

✧ idol!lee jeno x (fem.) reader ✧ best friends to lovers

✧ genres : fluff →  ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ →  FLUFF ✧ word count : 2.8k ✧ disclaimers : none

✧ author’s note — an impulsively written fic, done in a single one-hour-long sitting, and therefore isn't structured very well and has two or three potential plot holes. was the og christmas special but then 'this shirt of his' decided it wanted to go from 300 words to >10k so there's that. merry early christmas !!

"oh dear, that was not a look," jeno hopes the sarcasm in his voice masks his fear. he's a second too slow when he pulls the photo away from your sight, you've already seen the garish fit, blue jeans with an odd cut and the equally blue long-sleeve paired with thick rimmed glasses and matted hair. haechan steals the photo from behind jeno's back and shoves it your way, a mischievous plot already forming in mind. to his delight, jeno's face grows in horror as he watches you grin excitedly at the picture in your hands. "aww, you were so awkward back then. this one's one of my favorites," jeno flushes deeply at your words, there is not a thing in him that can help it. unearthing the photo albums from their trainee days wasn't his idea. rather, it was yours, also making it so he couldn't help it.

"i think we're done for today," he hurriedly shuts the album in front of him without realizing you were still holding onto the photo. you look as if you were to complain and he's also a second away from opening it up again just to dissipate the frown on your face. instead, you say something a little more horrifying, "then can i keep this one? i like it-"

"no!" he retraces as fast as he'd exclaimed, "i mean- wait, why?"

renjun fakes vomits in the background as you reach up to pat down some of jeno's wild hairs. he's just as sick of this as haechan and the others. rolling his eyes, he watches the scene unfold before him like some monotonous kdrama, the male lead always ends up with the female lead anyways. hand back at your side, you let a giggle erupt from your bearings. jeno's face heats up a little more. "why are you so embarrassed, jen? it's not like i didn't know you back then."

the boy in front of you drags a hand across his neck in attempt to cool down the feverish feeling. "i- i know, it's just-" it's just i've liked you since back then. "i don't know," i've always known that i liked you. "it's nothing, really." what you think of me means the world to me.

jeno blinks once and you're one step closer to him. he debates never blinking again if it means never missing your actions. your hand is warm against his as you slip the picture into his palm, closing his fingers around it. jeno takes note of how your voice is also warm, "then keep it, i don't want it if you're not comfortable with me having it."

the picture lays on his bedside table as he stirs in the dark. the winter is cold and his blankets, though thick and abundant, do nothing to warm his heart, something he knows from experience only your presence can alleviate. 

jeno is more than eager to toss his blankets aside and go back to gaming but he remembers the text you'd sent after you'd gotten back to your place. something like sleep early <3 though he really only remembers the '<3' part for sure. funny enough, that's the one thing that keeps him up all night.

jeno counts one minute this time, only one minute after he'd pressed the 'post' button, until he sees your username and accompanying profile picture pop up in his notifications. the nct instagram account is for all the members' use but he knows that you only follow it to like his posts exclusively. it's totally not as if he'd checked each and every post to see which ones you liked. jeno beams and punches a subtle fist into the air under the counter. unluckily for him, haechan notices. "what, she liked your post again? you know, she liked mine too."

maybe it's actually a lucky happenstance that haechan had noticed. "what?! no, she didn't." jeno dives back into the depths of his phone and scrolls through to find his friend's christmas selfie. haechan only chuckles beside him and upon hearing this, jeno looks up with a slight twitch of his lip, "so you're kidding." taking his empty cereal bowl in both hands, haechan's smile only grows snarkier as he slips off the stool. he claps a hand onto jeno's shoulder, "chin up lover boy, we all know she's only got eyes for you."

jeno clips down a smile as he returns to his own cereal, the flakes now soggy and the milk now gray. he downs it all in three gulps, sets the bowl back on the counter, spoon clattering, and reverts his eyes back onto his phone just in time to see an incoming text from you lighting the lockscreen. merry christmas! i think i might have time to come over later today, like late late. ask the others if that's fine with them. he doesn't ask, he already knows it's fine when he replies not a second afterwards yeah sure, merry christmas to you too, he pauses, taking a breather before sending the next, extremely risky, text, see you later <3.

slamming his phone face down on the counter and jolting upright, the stool almost toppling over, he grabs the bowl with such force that has jaemin in the living room popping his head in to check if he's okay. evidently, he's not. jeno scrubs at the dishes with acute fervor in hopes to mask the embarrassment and oncoming wave of doubt that's sure to overcome him if he doesn't preoccupy his mind with other things. jaemin is just about screaming over the sound of the fifty or so dishes that have been left unwashed for weeks on end. "jeno! jeno, what are you doing?!"

the clanking of tableware ceases. jeno reroutes his mind to focus on tapping his toes as fast as he can as he veers in the direction of jaemin's voice, eyes frantic. the kitchen is silent, save for the gush of water from the sink behind him, though his voice is unnecessarily loud and unnaturally high when he speaks, "i'm washing the dishes."

"yes, i can see, but like- why are-"

he's is cut off by the sound of a ping from jeno's phone on the counter. jaemin is reaching over to check the notification for him when jeno's eyes widen even further and he yanks off the pink rubber dishwashing gloves with a resounding snap and dives for his phone before jaemin can even lay a finger on it. bewildered, jaemin gives a simple, "oh," in realization as he draws back.

you're gonna love my gift, jeno. i just know you will <3

and the dishes stay unwashed. at least they got a good rinse.

late, late turns out to be even later than precedented, for you at least, though you're sure that most the boys are still awake at 2:12 in the morning. it isn't christmas anymore but you lack the attentiveness to care in the state that you are in right now, pressing the buzzer just outside their door rather aggressively and panting in equal fashion. you slump into yourself as your mind glosses over the past day and how horridly it had panned out to be. frustration curls and lashes within your actions and you want nothing more than to just drop their gifts off and leave. 

crouching with both arms still planted taut on the bike, your frustrations seems to take on a path of their own, emitting echoing sobs from your being. the tears slide fast onto the floor beneath with nothing to obstruct their merry way. there, they accommodate each other to form a puddle of sorts, one that you stare intently at as it only seems to grow in size with every hiccup of a sob you give.

startled by the opening of the door in front of you, it's as if you've forgotten why you're here in the first place but upon seeing the boy at the door, your best friend who, by the look of it has been up playing games with heavy bags under his eyes, you don't bother to collect yourself or even conceal your tears. 

"y/n, why are you-" he stops, he can't help the laugh that so naturally comes to him. it really is only natural when the sight before him is so dismally absurd. you have indeed come bearing gifts. one of your arms, or the elbow of it, has a giant bag looped around it, the contents of a dozen or so wrapped oblongs threatening to overflow. both hands situated soundly on the giant bike before you, your whole configuration making it slightly difficult to fit comfortably in the narrow hallway. staring up at him, first confoundingly, you mull over the situation at hand yourself and, in the midst of the tears, you start to laugh as well.

you stand, stretching out the joints in your knees as you shove the bag into his arms and then almost run the bike into his balls, shaking your head in amusement and carelessness as he gives a yelp and a jump of surprise. he takes the bag in his arms and moves to let you in, though his eyes never part from you. simply, there is much that he wants to ask but he doesn't until you are safely put upon his bed and he is safely knelt before you, hands in your lap and also clasped in your hold.

"wanna tell me?" jeno's voice is soft, and comes in waves that both surge and surf your emotions. a lopsided and unmeaning smile graces the left corner of your lips, "tell you what, exactly?"

"the bike, for starters," he leaves a pause for you to chuckle, then goes on, "the time, why you were crying in the hallway...should i go on?" you fiddle with his fingers, his own tracing across your knuckles. the smile your expression stretches a little wider and a little more forlorn. "the bike...you said the chain or something broke on yours-"

"i've could just went to go get it fixed, y/n."

"i know, i know but then there was that one day where you were going on about some bike that you wanted to try out and i kinda just committed it to memory and bought it."

"i- i'm- but that was-" he's having difficulty computing the necessary words to encompass his enthrallment, "that was like four months ago."

"yeah and i was going to go pick it up after work today except…" you lick your lips to suppress another laugh. what had you so troubled just a few minutes ago now seems like a distant memory, "except i got fired," jeno's mouth hangs open, "so i went home first to cry and then i got to the shop like three minutes before it closed and then got into an argument with an employee there and then went home to cry again and then fell asleep and then woke up and remembered i had to get it to you before the end of the day but it was already almost two in the morning so i just said, 'fuck it, imma just go and see what happens,' and, well, here i am." you let it all simmer before closing it up, "that pretty much sums it all up for you, huh."

jeno's lips are slow to crease upwards as he processes all the information. he takes his hands from yours, also slowly, and instead places them on either side of your head. you beam down at him, cheeks flaming and lifting into a mirroring, and this time genuine, smile. he gives your head a little shake back and forth, in disbelief and incredulity all at once, "all that on christmas day?"

the way he pampers you never fails to get your heart pumping and adrenaline running tens of thousands of miles per hour. a smile so wide, your teeth even make an appearance, "all that on christmas day."

"well," both his hands are now on both your knees. he looks up at you with pondering eyes and in his room, only lit by the standing lamp in the corner, simply the sight of him is enough to take your breath away. jeno's thumbs run up and down the beginnings of your shins when his lips part with realization and you follow his gaze to the nightstand where, under his phone and a few other discarded items, lies the picture you'd only been able to catch a glimpse of the other day, yesterday. he stares at it for a little before bringing it to your lap to stare at it a little more. then, he turns it over to you, "will it make you feel better if i give you this?"

taking it from him, jeno has no idea how your smile could get any wider, any prettier, but it does. both his hands are back on both your knees, kneading soft circles into the skin. he wishes you weren't wearing a skirt in such cold weather, though either way you look just as mesmerizing to him. the smallest of a chuckle topples past your lips, your pretty lips, and you look from the picture to him with your eyes, your loving eyes. "i mean," you take another glance at it, "how could it not? you were so cute back then."

"you think so?" is what comes out of his mouth but truthfully, jeno has no idea what he's doing when he gets up upon both knees, now just a little under eye level with you. he has no idea what specific thoughts are spurring him on and he has not the slightest inclination of where this sudden courage is coming from. when lee jeno brings your forehead to his own, with a hand to the back of your neck, he is numbed to the mind and sustained solely on the thrum of his gut. driven by intuition, he doesn't render the flaming of your cheeks odd, nor does he take into account the second-long glance you give to his lips, the same lips that brush the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the heights of your brow, before meeting your philtrums and then, ever-so-carefully, the pinks of your lips.

jeno is intoxicated by how you seem to move in tune with every string of his pent up desires. he doesn't give a second thought as to why, or even how, it happens; he just knows that it's because it's you, that if anyone else were to kiss him in the same way you were doing now, he'd be missing out on the very feeling that renders him speechless, dumbfounded, bewildered, awestruck, and lovestruck all at once. pulling back just a bit, your fingers graze over the line of his jaw as you mumble a soft, "merry christmas," into his lips. jeno paces himself to ensure he doesn't stumble over his words, "be mine?"

the second kiss answers the question he's been keeping to himself since he was fifteen.

you're awake when he falls asleep, a stupid smile still plastered on that face of his and you would've had enough mind to tease him about it later, were the same smile not on your own face. you're still awake about half an hour later when jeno stirs in his sleep, though instead of moving away from you, he only holds you tighter. however, you're asleep when he awakens a few hours later, a hand coming up to groggily rub at an eye as he reaches out for his phone only to realize that he doesn't need to check his messages. how could you have texted him when you're right there, in his arms?

he only checks his messages in the hour after you leave, and even then in his manager's car on the way to some filming site, jeno blushes, madly.

i forgot to say yes <3

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — ok i KNOW the fic kinda goes 📉📉 but i only really planned for the first two scenes and was like...now what — and just wrote whatever came to mind afterwards. i hope it's not too disappointing for my first off hiatus fic but whatever mans, i'm over it! anyways, i hope you still enjoyed some parts of it and i'll have you know, i'm very glad to be back. (WILL I STOP IT WITH THE BSF2L FICS? WILL I??), rouiyan.

[nightingaletrash]

An Evening Meal

Writing is pain but I damn well finished it 😤

--

It wasn’t often that Logan joined the others in the dining hall for meals. He knew that his presence was unwanted, that all but Page had demanded his death, and the pointed glares and scathing remarks were more than enough to put him off his food. So more often than not, he took his meals in his room and made an effort to stay out of the way of the rest of the council whenever possible. It just made life that little bit more tolerable for all of them.

Well, not quite everyone obviously.

On this particular evening, Lorna had insisted that Logan join the rest of them for dinner and she'd refused to take no for an answer. And when he’d arrived, having finally relented and agreed for her sake, it was clear that she’d had a word with the others.

He was keenly aware that Lorna’s friends and advisors were determinedly not looking at him and were taking great pains to avoid addressing or mentioning him. Instead they talked amongst themselves, discussing the day’s work or regaling one another with stories of their adventures as they indulged in a fine wine imported from Samarkand.

Judging by the flush of Sabine’s cheeks and the way he jumped up onto his chair with his staff raised aloft, the Dweller had gone a little beyond a small indulgence.

“And then, with thunderous cries that shook the heavens themselves, we brought down our axes on the troll’s monstrous head! Its mantle split, its blood spilt forth, and we Dwellers rid ourselves and our land of its insidious poisons!” he declared with a surprising boom. For such a small man, he had a very impressive set of lungs.

And a very impressive talent for embellishment, Logan thought to himself, considering that the victory hadn’t been the work of the Dwellers alone. But he said nothing and tried to focus on his food. He’d let the old man have his stories and glory. There was no need for him to bring any attention to himself.

“I remember that story a little differently,” Lorna chuckled, as if she’d read his mind. At least she kept her voice low and between herself and Logan. “I thought it was your hammer that split the troll’s head open, and that the Dwellers’ axes were busy with its nerve tendrils.”

Logan shrugged indifferently.

“I don’t see that it makes a difference. Sabine is welcome to tell his stories as he wishes.”

He was aware that her gaze lingered on him a moment before turning back to the conversation further down the table. The big Dweller - Boulder - was busy guiding the tipsy Sabine back into his seat just as Ben Finn leapt into his own tale.

“So one minute Private Jammy and I are walking our daring Rebel Princess through the use of the mortar. The next, a legion of Hollowmen are erupting from the ground, ready to charge the gates-!”

“Avo’s sake, Ben, give it a rest,” Page huffed. “No one cares whether you managed to kill three hollowmen with one shot or not.”

“But it really did happen!” he protested, his brows knitting together. Then he pointed an accusing finger at her and said, “you just don’t believe it because you didn’t even believe in hollowmen until you went to Reaver’s little Masquerade party, and now you don’t want to admit that I’m telling the truth!”

“I don’t believe it because you were probably too busy nattering at them to actually do any shooting.”

Logan observed the bickering pair briefly - he took faint amusement at the indignant look of offense on Ben’s face - then turned back to his sister, who was watching the small spectacle unfold with a small smile that was somewhat unreadable.

She’d aged since that day in the throne room. She’d lost some of the softness that rounded her cheeks, and while her eyes weren’t quite hardened, they’d lost their innocent glimmer. She’d also sprouted upwards a few inches, leaving her just shy of his own height. But what drew his attention were the scars on her face.

Suddenly, as if he was possessed by some old repressed childish instinct, he reached over and flicked her in the nose.

Lorna squeaked - actually squeaked - in surprise, swatted his hand away and stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.

Heads swivelled in their direction. Ben and Page’s spirited debate was abruptly cut off and Saker was halfway out of his seat before Lieutenant Attaway’s hand gripped his forearm and a pointed look sent him sinking back down apprehensively.

Logan felt his face heat up at the sudden scrutiny.

What in the Light’s name had possessed him to do that? He briefly entertained the notion of trying to will himself to fade from sight or to sink through his chair into the floor, but as ever, he remained in full view and firmly in his seat. So he tried to act as though he’d not just reached out and flicked his sister, the Queen, in the face like a child might.

Sabine and Kalin just watched with mild interest, and Walter stared for a moment, then chortled.

“No pestering each other at the table,” he said, as if they were still small children and in need of reminding, before he turned away. “I hear that Page’s people were able to track down your missing shipments, Kalin.”

“Hm? Oh yes. The young man, Kidd I believe? Was able to locate the thieves and reclaim them for us,” she replied, catching on quickly and inclining her head towards Page. “It would please me if he were to receive my most heartfelt thanks.”

Page affirmed that she’d pass on the message, and the conversation resumed, though Walter gave the siblings one last heartfelt grin before turning away and leaving them to their own discussion.

Logan made a note in the back of his mind to make up the last four years to Walter for his smooth redirection of the conversation before things got even more awkward.

“What was that for?” Lorna giggled, even though it was clear that she was utterly perplexed. “You haven’t flicked me since I was nine.”

Logan shrugged, still wishing he could vanish on the spot. Still no luck, and he wasn’t going to get away with such a plainly uncharacteristic act in the middle of dinner. So he vainly willed some of the pinkness from his cheeks and turned to his sister.

“There was something on your nose,” he said matter-of-factly. “You never did tell me where you got those scars.”

There were two. An arched cut over the bridge of her nose that hadn’t quite healed right, leaving a slight ridge of raised tissue along the bottom edge of the scar. The second was a perfect mirror of his own; a deep, thin line gouged through her lip as if drawn by a claw, though her’s was on the opposite side to his.

That was the scar that she self-consciously rubbed her thumb over.

“Well this one was a gift from Saker,” she said after a brief pause, tapping the side of her nose to indicate the arched mark. “He punched me in the face during our fight.”

“And the other?”

As expected, she hesitated to answer and her thumb traced over the mark once more, the side of her nail dragging through the narrow groove. He knew all too well where it had come from, but he needed to hear her say it before he could truly accept that she had encountered that thing too.

“Crawler,” she whispered. “It said something about ‘one to match the other.’ At the time, I thought it was talking about this one-" she tapped her nose again "-but I guess it was talking about you.”

The corner of his mouth itched, but he resisted the urge to rub it.

Every time he closed his eyes at night, he could taste blood in his mouth and hear the Crawler’s cackling as it dragged a wicked claw over his lips, marking him forever as one of its playthings. He’d wake up in a cold sweat and have to run his thumb over his mouth to ground himself, to reassure himself that he was not bleeding and that he was far from Crawler’s grasp… for the moment, at least.

He wondered, briefly, if Lorna had similar nightmares. The dark circles around her eyes were telling enough. It was little wonder that she applied makeup whenever she left the castle or attended court. Anything to keep her people from suspecting that their Queen was struggling with her burden.

"I suppose it must have been," was his reply. "Unless getting a scar from Saker of all people was somehow one of your worst memories."

The touch of sarcasm took the edge off of the conversation, and Lorna grinned in spite of herself.

"At least I didn't get one from falling down the stairs when I was six," she jabbed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Logan replied airily, though the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly upwards. "Especially when one considers that you weren't even alive back then."

"Jasper would never lie about something like that," she shot back smugly. "He said that you were inconsolable for over an hour."

"Jasper was mad even back then."

"People don't go senile in their early fifties, Logan."

"I said 'mad' not 'senile'. Sane people don't look at an advertisement that insists that a butler must be prepared for daily occurrences of violence and decide 'ah yes, that sounds like the perfect job for me'."

That was a story that their mother had simply loved to tell. Apparently Jasper was the only applicant she had received after her first butler's prompt resignation, which had resulted from a sudden and unexpected bandit attack, and when he'd proven more than capable of running her household and dealing with intruders - where he'd learned to handle live explosives, he'd never say - she kept him on, and he'd served her and her family ever since.

Most butlers had better self-preservation instincts.

Lorna simply grinned though, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Careful Logan. He can hear everything we say, remember?"

"Well of course I do," Logan said, rolling his eyes. "He was doing that long before he figured out how to work the Guild Seal."

"Right," she laughed. "Remember that time we planned to leave earwigs under the pillow of that diplomat from Samarkand?"

"I still have no idea how he found out about that," Logan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Because he hears all, sees all and knows all." She paused, then nodded her head with a faux look of grim determination. "When this is all over, I shall see to it that there is a temple dedicated to Jasper."

"He deserves it. He's put up with the two of us for all these years."

It would be upon later reflection that the ease of the back and forth would surprise Logan. He and his sister hadn't bantered so casually in years. Not since Aurora. He'd certainly not indulged in the nostalgia of his youthful antics like this, not when so much had been resting on his shoulders.

And yet, for just a while, it was as if nothing had changed. They continued to chat over their dinner, completely ignorant to the conversation and sideways glances from further down the table.

Maybe, he thought to himself after they had all dispersed for the evening, he would take his meals in the dining room more often.

[courtlyharlequin]

Hey!! I was wondering if i can have a candied rose frappuccino with floyd please. Thanks 😊

Sugar Addict

Warning(s): mild spice, lowkey spicy ending

A/N: I went feral. What is plot? I ended up writing more than expected. Also, I was too lazy to proofread so I apologize for my horrible grammar. Feel free to correct me! I should probably get a beta reader... 

Context: This is an AU. Yes, a coffeeshop AU, but some things are different. These characters are aged up and NRC is actually a college.

It was unexplainable, this feeling. Twilight. The sun was setting. Traffic ensued streets as people poured out of work and into their vehicles, all with one destination: home. But for you, home was the last place you wanted to go. You were a student who did not need to fret over something like a job. You had the convenience of asking for a ride or traveling by foot to reach local destinations not far from your oh so prestigious school. At this moment, at twilight, you were experiencing the convenience of the latter. Well, a normal person would not call it a convenience. These days made taking a stroll an absurd pastime. But right now, it was both a convenience and a pastime. The roads were clogged by a massive sea of cars. Your nose crinkled at the stench of gasoline. Choosing to traverse by foot was more pragmatic. You were in a rush as well. Your destination might close any minute now!

From the inside of any of the vehicles on the street, you were akin to a hooligan. A scrambling, mad hooligan. Not only were you running in the opposite direction of where these cars were going, you were also running as your life depended on it. Therefore, you were a crazy person who was running into the city suburbs at a somewhat late hour rather than going home. Mothers in said vehicles shook their heads in dismay, praying their children were safe at home. But, you could not care any less. Night Raven College’s headmaster was very lenient on curfews and was susceptible to bribery if all else fails. But to be fair, your destination was not something to be frowned upon. It was something to laugh at, really. The place you were so desperate to get to was none other than a café.

More specifically, Café Rosé . Cheesy, chessy, yes, you were aware. The café was notorious for their supposed love potion of a latte, but you weren’t coming for that. You wanted to try their Candied Rose Frappuccino. You were a lover of all sweets; You could never live with yourself if you didn’t try it. Of course, this coffee shop was not going anywhere nor was this beverage a limited one. You simply were in the mood for it. It was craving, a whim, a last minute decision.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the café’s exterior walls. With one deep breath, you pushed the rose-tinted glass door open. The chime signaled your entrance. You braced yourself for a  barista to question your hazed, flushed state… but it never came. Still heaving, you scanned the shop. You made your way to the counter to check for employees in the back room.

Thud!

“Hey, Shrimpy! Café’s closed,” a voice glowered.

You spun your heel, making eye contact with a barista with a disheveled appearance– his aquamarine hair was slightly unkempt, his tie was unraveled and dangled loosely around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned down to the point where his collar bone was exposed with his sleeves rolled up which furthermore accentuated his lean yet muscular figure. It was all too much to take in. He put his weight onto the nearest table. Ah, the thud came from a chair he just stacked… but nevermind that-!! The moment he moved into that position, he exposed a bit of his cleavage. Hot damn he might be lean at first glance, but he was built like a Greek god. This should be illegal! A barista should not be dressing– let alone be looking– like that. Everyone would suffer from a cardiac arrest from such a heartthrob! You quickly averted your attention to the café’s schedule.

“The business hours sign says you guys close at seven. It’s six fifty-two right now,” you said, holding up your phone.

“Close enough. Get lost.”

He walked over to you suavely, leaning over you and against the door frame to flip the open-closed sign over so that it’s closed side faced the streets. It was meant to be a gesture of mockery and intimidation, but holy hell… you were flustered more than anything. He was tall from afar but up close he was huge!! You even got a better look at his chest. Well defined, if you don’t say so yourself. Wait–

You shoved him back, “Not even for a to-go order?”

“Nope. Don’t feel like it.”

“But you’re not closed yet!”

“But I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Why?”

“What?”

“I asked you ‘why’?”

“Can’t you just come back tomorrow and let me call it a day? I’m tired.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I ran all the way here just to get something–”

“Should’ve done it earlier,” he shrugged, returning to his chore.

“Okay. Fine. Is there anyone else here to serve me? Since you’re too ‘tired’?”

“Sorry, Shrimpy, but they all went home.”

“Ugh! Don’t call me something that makes us seem so familiar. I’m not that short anyway...” you huffed.

He snickered, walking behind the register, “Alright then, Shr-im-p-y~! What would you like to order that you just had to come in at the last minute today?”

While you were relieved he gave into serving you a drink, the way he enunciated your unwanted nickname was irksome.

“I’ll have one Candied Rose Frappuccino.”

“Oh thank god it isn’t that latte.”

“You mean the Rosé Latte?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, loudly tapping on the cash register, “Everyone has been flocking here and only ordering that. I’m so tired of making the same order everyday.”

“Sorry, I’m not into hot beverages. Just a person who likes sweets.”

“Cute,” he cooed, handing you your receipt.

You watched as he messily wrote “Shrimpy” onto your cup.

“Can I get your name?” you asked.

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“Somehow you’re slowly becoming my favorite barista.”

Partially a lie, partially the truth. He was your favorite because he was so fine. You only wanted his name in case you ever decided to write a review on your bitter first meeting with him or if you came across the manager. Petty, yes, but it annoyed you that much.

“Floyd, Floyd Leech,” he grinned.

You checked the receipt and sat down at the barstools in front of the barista’s worktable, watching him intently as he began to work on your order. Well, half your attention was actually on his hand movements. Your mind was having an internal battle about how shameful you were to fantasize about his back muscles, mentally undressing him. The fact that there were only you two in the coffeehouse did not help either. The silence, at its surface, was calming, but, at its core, it was awkward. With the occasional clinks of utensils and the sound of coffee being brewed and blended into a frappuccino,  the lack of noise left your mind to wander.

“Just because he’s good looking does not make up for the fact that he was rude,” you chided yourself.

Floyd cocked his head: “Hey. What are you staring at?”  

He looked behind him as if there was actually something of interest. You saw your drink in his hand. He held it close to his chest, withholding it, waiting for your answer.

“Oh? Um.. nothing? I was just zoning out. I’m tired from running all the way here.”

“Shrimpy’s no fun,” he pouted.

“My name is (y/n), not Shrimpy.”

“You’re short, jumpy, and huggable like a shrimp~”

“I am not that short!”

“Oh-!!! You remind me of Goldfish. You both get so mad for some reason,” he laughed.

“Listen here–”

The barista took a swig of your order. He didn’t take the dome-shaped lid out. He didn’t even drink it with a straw. He just… straight up… put his lips on the lid and drank the contents from the rim. You halted your rant, appalled by his audacity.

“You talk too much, Shrimpy.”

In this total silence, someone, if there were someone here, would have heard your sanity and patience snapped.

“Listen here, Floyd Leech. That was awfully rude of you. Actually, from the beginning, you were so rude! From getting into my personal bubble to calling me names when I told you to stop. And now you drink my order? And right in front of me too?! So, so, rude-!!! I just–”

“Wow. What an expansive vocabulary you have,” he glared, twiddling with the collar of his shirt and somehow exposing more of his collarbone.

You leaned over the counter, reaching for your beverage, heat traveling up your cheeks, “I’m not done yet! Just because you’re hot does not mean you can dress like that and automatically get a free pass to do these things! Do you have any idea how distracting that was?? Now–wHAAA!!”

You pounced at him. Your toes hung on the edge of the barstool, your left arm wrapped around Floyd’s neck, and your right arm stretched out in an attempt to reach the drink in Floyd’s hand. Much to your annoyance, he raised it higher than you could ever hope to reach. If he took anymore steps back, you would most likely flop onto the barista’s side of the table face-first. With the drink in his left hand, his weight (and yours) was shifted onto his right arm which conveniently propped itself against the countertop behind him. You wondered what people on the road thought when they saw what was going on inside the café.

It was early evening with a decent amount of cars on the street before the storefront. Nearly twenty minutes since you came into the café and here you are– without your order, curfew approaching steadily, and no sign of getting your frappuccino anytime soon. Instead, you were sprawled across the counter, a test of your flexibility and modesty.

“I didn’t really think Shrimpy was this bold, this naughty,” Floyd chuckled.

Ah shit. Your anger got the best of you. Your verbal filter was removed and all of your thoughts slipped past your conscious and common sense. His sly grin did not help at all. Your close proximity enhanced your blush. The way you clung onto him caused his shirt to slide off his left shoulder and with the position you were in, you had a front seat to all his glory. What a sticky wicket this was.

“I just wanted something sweet to drink,” you panted, fisting his shirt in your petite palms, frustration washing over you.

You were on the verge of tears. Floyd sighed, lowering the cup just a bit, and took a few steps back as he carefully let you slide onto the barista’s side of the counter. However, your beverage was still out of reach.

“You’re such a snowflake,” he mumbled.

You clung to him, still, using him as leverage to reach your order, “Am not. This wouldn’t have happened if you just let me have my coffee!”

“You mean this hell of a sugary confection??”

“Yes? I mean I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even tried it yet,” you grunted, jumping at it like a fish trying to catch the bait.

“Oi, (y/n), can I kiss you?”

That was the first time he used your actual name instead of “Shrimpy” ever since you met. You would rejoice, but the following words were out of the question. His tone made it sound more like a demand than a request of consent.

“Excuse me?!”

“You wanted to try the drink right?”

“Yes, but it’s right there in your hand! So if you would just let me have it, I’ll stop annoying you!”

“The taste is lingering in my mouth. It’s so sweet. I wanna get rid of it…”

“Get some water.”

He squeezed his right arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his face,  “But I want to kiss you~!”

“Well, since you drank out of it, if you let me have it, then we can have an indirect kiss!”

The temperature of the coffee shop was just unbearable at this point. And worst of all, this was self-inflicted. You didn’t have to tolerate him. Frankly, you should have left the moment he told you the café was “closed”.  You didn’t have to pounce on him and end up in this painstakingly uncomfortable position either. Moreover, you were sweating from embarrassment from your suggestion. An indirect kiss! That was such a childish thing to fret about and here you were, regretting your own words.

“That’s no fun,” Floyd said, taking another sip of your frappuccino.

“Hey–mmpff!!”

Despite how he manhandled you thus far, he kissed you very tenderly. His lips were soft, warm even. As much as you wanted to push him back and scold him for taking away something as precious as your first kiss, you couldn't. Everything just… felt right. Your grip on his shirt loosened. Before, you held them in your palms in anger, a way of intimidation, a sign to show him that you weren’t going to back down even if he was teasing you with no mercy. But now, you held Floyd’s collar to close the space between you two. You were this close to each other, but it wasn’t close enough.

You gasped as he nibbled your lip. Floyd took it upon himself to invite his tongue over to your wet cavern. A sugary substance flooded your taste buds. Ah… he never swallowed your drink.... Not that it mattered. You gulped it in one breath, continuing on with your tango of tongues. If Floyd wasn’t supporting your waist, you might’ve melted away into this temporary bliss. You momentarily broke away from him to catch your breath. The distance between you two was barely five centimeters. He growled lowly, taking two steps forward, pushing you towards the bar. He smashed his lips against yours, a clear sign for you not to do that again. A fire lit in his eyes. Floyd hungrily bit your bottom lip, earning a whimper in response.  Without breaking away from your mouth, only turning his head to take you at a different angle, he hoisted you up and set you and the beverage down on the countertop. Now, with both hands free, he cupped your cheeks. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing his wrists, drawing away his hands.

“W-Wait…” you exhaled.

“...did you not like that?” he cocked his head.

“No... No… I liked it… I liked it a lot… I just… S-Slow down…”

Floyd reached for the ends of your hair, twirling with the strand, “Take your time…”

Perhaps it was purely the heat of the moment or lust, but you judged him too soon. In this brief period of time, he was being considerate of you.  He traced your figure with his eyes, grinning from ear to ear at your bruised lips, bright pink from the dozens of kisses he gave you. You were just as disheveled as he was.

“...More..”

“You sure?”

“I’m thirsty,” you pouted.

Floyd let out a chortle before sipping your coffee, “Alright, then Shrimpy.”

You prepared yourself for yet another rough session. Before he took your lips, he smoothed back his hair, revealing his forehead. The gesture caught you off guard thus you stiffened as he brushed his lips against yours. By gods, it was as if he wasn't even trying to be provocative. Was it possible for someone to be this seductive without actual effort? At this rate, you were going to miss curfew..

“Floyd…” you moaned, intertwining your fingers with his as he pushed you down onto the counter.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry...”

“Floyd… No… T-There’s people watching-!!!”

“So?”

“Does that not bother you?!”

“Not when they’ll know you’re mine~”

You sat up, “I’m a bit too shy for that. A-And I would like for my first time to be private…”

You left the last part trail off in embarrassment, fiddling with his necktie which somehow managed to stay on his person despite everything that just happened.

“Oh? Is Shrimpy a virgin?” he teased.

“So what if I am?!”

“Nothing. Just thought a cute Night Raven College girl like you wouldn’t be since you were really good~”

He earned himself a playful smack on the shoulder to which he responded with a sarcastically scoff. This was so unfair...

“How did you know that I went there?”

“Hmm must be because of the shirt you’re wearing underneath that hoodie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Oh. He’s the perceptive type. You didn’t think much of his ministrations (other than them being tantalizing). It seemed that he took note of every detail about you. At this point, you were crimson as a tomato.

“Also, because I go there as well,” he snickered.

You smacked his shoulder once more.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Different years, probably.”

“Maybe..”

“Also, I’m always stuck at the Mostro Lounge so you can find me there,” he winked.

“Ahhh! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Giving me two answers and mixed signals.”

Floyd tilted your head upwards and pecked your lips, holding you as if you were a figure of glass: “What about this is mixed?”

“You were terribly rude before… and you probably just want someone to bed with for the night,” you puffed your cheeks.

How your body was betraying you… Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and the fervor was not going to dissipate anytime soon.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time, (y/n).”

He raised your hand and pressed a chaste kiss on each individual knuckle.

Oh god. Your heart couldn’t bear it anymore. The way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue made honey taste like summer– hot, overwhelming, but still something to look forward to.

“Since when?” you exhaled.

“Since your first visit to the Lounge.”

He switched to your other hand, continuing the ritual.

“I’ve only been there once.”

“You were such a cute Shrimpy that I couldn’t forget about you~”

“That can’t be right–”

“You just have to accept it!”

“It doesn’t make up for how you treated me before.”

He placed your hands on his cheek, “Sorry, Shrimpy. The scent you released was too irresistible.”

Instinctively, you sniffed your clothes, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It might be just an eel thing*, then. But just so you know, I’ve been trying to find you for a while now. I’m so happy that I did. You’re mine now, Shrimpy. Your smell is intoxicating,” he cooed, leaning closer to your ear, “It makes me go feral~”

You squealed at his sudden remark, unable to regain your composure. Your words melted into gibberish and murmurs as you buried your face into his chest once more.

“You’re such a creep,” you whined.

“You don’t mean that~”

“I don’t…”

“We should get going before curfew though. Help me clean up, will ya?”

“Okay.”

Floyd planted a kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, Shrimpy.”

That nickname wasn’t as obnoxious as it was before, huh.

“I’ll reward you once we get to my room,” he snickered over his shoulder as he left for the back room.

Wait– WHAT?!?!?

“H-Hold on-!!”

“Relax, Shrimpy, ’m not gonna do anything to you… not yet, anyway. I’m just sayin’ in case we don’t make it before curfew.  Azul needs me for Mostro Lounge tomorrow, he has no choice, but to let me in. If anyone can convince the headmaster, it’s probably him,” he gave you a thumbs up.

“Good to know. But… I’ve been meaning to ask about Mostro Lounge and this café. If you work for Azul then why work here too?”

“He doesn’t pay me. I’m just helping out of obligation.”

“What? How come?”

“He’s my friend?”

“You sound unsure.”

“You made it sound like I’m gullible,” he laughed, stacking the last of the chairs.

“Well? Shall we go, Shrimpy?”

You took his hand without hesitation. This feeling– it was addicting. You only knew him for a less than a day, but it felt right. It felt meant to be... as if you were soulmates. 

Bonus:

“Oya? Floyd, what happened to your back? There’s scratches all over it. Are you alright?”

“ s’nothin’, Jade. I just… had a fun night~”

“Please. You and (y/n) were so loud. Please reserve those kinds of activities for somewhere more private– not a dormitory with thin walls,” Azul chided.

His brother’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question it any further. Jade curtly closed his gym locker and headed out towards the field.

Azul followed in suit with a huff. 

* Note: Female moray eels release an odor in order to attract males to mate with them

[justauthoring]

a cruel world.

Request: a soulmate AU with either or both haha maybe one of those where its a timer countdown to where you meet your soulmate but its in the arena?

A/N: The anon didn’t specify whether they wanted the pairing to be with Peeta or Finnick, so I chose the former!

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader Word Count: 1,310 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

You watched as two timers counted down.

The one that could lead to your death; ten seconds, nine, eight...

And the one, coincidentally, that counted down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until you met your soulmate. Only thing is, as you take a split second to glance down at your rest where the timer resides, days are zero, hours are zero and you have exactly ten minutes until you supposedly met your soulmate.

Irony is, you were about to fight to the death for your life.

You found it hard to concentrate, and somehow, a bit of your terror and fear you’ve felt constantly since your name was called at the reaping had dissipated. Everything your mentor had been teaching you suddenly went blank in your mind and you couldn’t seem to focus on anything properly because supposedly you were about to meet your soulmate in a death match.

Where only one could survive.

The world was cruel, and you were beginning to learn just how much.

Your pulled from your thoughts at the sound of the timer buzzing, signalling that the games were beginning. Everything seems to happen in a blur then. Everyone around you races towards the middle, the cornucopia, for supplies and more. You hesitate, standing on your pedestal for a moment, stuck.

You had no doubt that you wouldn’t survive this. It was a terrible thought, especially when now is when you should be most confident and brave for the sake of yourself. But you weren’t a fighter. And whilst you won’t just give up and die, the only thing you wanted to do was meet your soulmate, just once, and then, if you were to die, you could die peacefully.

You only hoped your soulmate felt the same and wouldn’t kill you themselves.

Rushing off the pedestal, you elect not running towards the cornucopia, knowing that in itself is just a way of dying. You head directly behind yourself, burying yourself in the trees, and taking random lefts and then rights as to not make sure anyone knows your trail or is following you. You don’t slow, running for what feels like at least five minutes, could be more.

You slow near a little pond, basking in the soothing scent of the water and the familiar sound of water trickling. It felt silly to bask in something so simple, but this was the first moment of peace you’d felt since the damned reaping.

Setting yourself against a tree, you lean against it, pulling your knees up to your chest to give yourself a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t even be bothered to think of the fact that you have absolutely no supplies given you’d forgone the cornucopia, and you by right had no idea where you were going to get supplies from. You were still getting off the high and thrill and terror of running away from a bloodbath.

With shaky hands, you bring your right wrist up to your eyes, swallowing thickly when you realize that somehow seven minutes have passed and you’re now, supposedly, three minutes away from meeting your soulmate.

Shifting forward, you cup your hands gently together, dipping them into the water and pulling it towards your lips. You take fast, gracious sips, trying to get as much water as you can since you don’t have a water canteen to bring any with you.

Maybe you should’ve just risked death for supplies.

No going back now. 

Standing up, you glance at your wrist, licking your lips when you realize it’s now gone to two minutes.

You glance around, trying to find the best course of action and direction. You had no idea where led where, obviously, so it was really just a game of chance, hoping you managed to go the right way. Maybe you could steal supplies off of someone else who’d already been killed. You were good at sneaking, it was the thing you were best at.

Just then, the distant sound of a branch cracking echoes. You jump, rushing behind a tree, pushing yourself into a bundle of bushes, crouching low enough to hide yourself in it. You glance at your wrist; one minute and thirty seconds.

Someone was approaching. It had to be your soulmate.

Half a minute later and the sound of footsteps echo. Whoever this is isn’t particularly worried about keeping quiet, obviously, which makes you huff in indignation. They ought to be more careful.

Fifty seconds.

You can see the outline of someone, nothing more then that. It’s a figure and it’s approaching but you can’t make out any distinguishing details.

Forty seconds.

The person has blond hair, is a tad bit short, and definitely male.

Thirty seconds.

He seems to be looking for someone.

Probably, you.

Twenty seconds.

You hesitate, crouching as the person becomes more clear. It’s the boy from district twelve. You couldn’t at the time of training be bothered to remember his name, but you know him and his district partner had been favourites of the capitol. And, if you remembered correctly, it was because of him.

Ten seconds.

He seemed nice enough, you think, from what you can remember.

You just... never ever spoke to him.

Five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“You should really try to be more quiet.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to say anything. You figure it’s fate, given that you’ve had this timer on your arm your entire life and it was finally at zero, no point hiding from it now. 

The boy jumps at your voice, obviously haven’t seen or heard you until, well, now. He holds the machete in his hands towards you, and you take a small step backwards in response, but simply hold your wrist towards him.

“Soulmate.”

He eases, lowering his weapon as all intimidation seems to just leave him. 

Taking a step back, you swallow thickly. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this to be the way I met my soulmate,” you mumble, slowly glancing up at him. “Especially since, at least one of us have to die.”

He frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

Blinking at him, you shrug; “what’s your name?”

He hesitates only a moment. “Peeta,” and then, he swallows thickly, “you?”

“Y/N. You’re from district twelve right?”

He nods. “You?”

“Seven,” you laugh lightly, “glad to know I made such a lasting impression.”

His eyes widen in response. “I didn’t mean any offense or--”

“It’s fine. I’m just... pulling your leg.” Leaning back against your leg, you cross your arms over your chest lightly. 

He nods, and for a moment, silence echoes, neither of you sure what to say. It was a awkward thing, to meet your soulmate in a place that encouraged you to kill each other. You’re sure the capitol’s just getting a kick out of this one.

“What now?”

He asks it, and truthfully, you don’t know. Shrugging your shoulders, you lick your lips. “We work together?” You offer, raising a gentle brow at him. “Try to survive until the end. And then, if we make it and it’s just us... well, i’m content with dying.”

Peeta’s eyes widen, snapping up to your own. “What?” He exclaims, “how can you just--”

“I didn’t expect to survive this thing anyway, Peeta,” you smile gently, “and if it means me dying saves my soulmate, well then... I think it’s worth it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he argues, shaking his head adamantly at you, stepping towards you. “I won’t let you die for me.”

“And I won’t let you die for me.”

Silence hangs in the air.

You laugh. “Look at us,” you snort, “met not five minutes ago and we are already arguing over who will die for the other.”

Surprisingly, the comment makes him laugh too. “We are soulmates.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “soulmates...”

And your words hang in the air, heavy.

-

Let me know what you thought?

[puckinginsane]

What Am I?

Jamie Benn one shot

Warningsish : Smuttyish language. A curse? I think just one. 

Words : 7.8K 

I really hope y’all like it. I worked really hard on this.

🎵 Tell me, have you seen a sunset Turn into a sunrise? Kiss right through the night? 'Cause we should try that sometime Hold you 'til the mornin' And if I said I'm fallin' Would you just reply "I know you are, but what am I?"🎵

I usually don't go to bars or clubs with the intent of picking up a guy. Sometimes it happens, but most of the time I'm there to have a good time with my friends and get a little tipsy. Not tonight. Tonight I am here to get drunk and to get laid. It's one of those nights where the only way I'm going to escape life for a while is to get hammered and make bad decisions. Lately life has given me one punch in the gut after the other so I need a win.

I've already spotted my target. I've been watching him on and off for the last 45 minutes. He's tall, tatted, handsome. Built like an ox but hasn't said much all night. The guys he's with have all the energy and he's the observer. We've locked eyes a few times throughout the night but he'd always just look away. I'm not sure it's me he even saw. It's a bit busy in here tonight.

I watch as his friends try to convince him to go to the club with them but he insists they go on without him. He's nursing the rest of his beer so if I'm going to make a move it's gotta be now. I push any thoughts of doubt out of my mind. I need to just go for it. No more waiting for something to happen. If I want it to happen I’m going to have to make it happen myself. And what I want is for him to take me home and make me forget all of my problems, something I thought the alcohol was going to do but it’s done a shitty job so far.

I sit on the open stool next to him and lean on my elbow on the bar. "You should have gone with them. They look like fun."

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, intensity in his eyes, then just looks down at the bar and shakes his head. "I'm not interested in the fun they're looking for tonight."

I inch closer to him. "What kind of fun are you looking for? I'm looking for some fun myself." I place my hand delicately on his forearm, not sure of how he's going to react to it. He flexes under my touch but doesn't pull away. "Some anonymous fun just for tonight. To escape life for a while." I give him my best I want to fuck you eyes and hope he feels the same way about me. 

"I'm looking for the kind where I finish this beer and head home."

"That doesn't sound very fun at all, unless you're taking me with you."

"That is the fun I'm trying to avoid."

"Shame." I drink the last bit of my drink and call the bartender over. I'm not going to be taking no for an answer tonight and he's the one I want, I need, to take my mind off of everything. I order us a few rounds of shots. "You need something stronger." I hope he doesn't reject me. My experience with men is that most of the time they can't resist shots with an attractive woman, no matter how hard they want to fight it. 

To my surprise, he picks up the shot glass and looks me dead in the eyes as he takes it. Suddenly it's about fifty degrees hotter in here and I think you could hear my heart beating from across the bar. "Aren't you going to have yours?" He has a cheeky tone in his voice, knowing that my panties have disintegrated into nothing simply by the way he's looking at me.

I almost forgot. I can barely remember my own name as he continues to look at me with those eyes. "Of course." I take my shot while keeping eye contact with him, the same as he did with me. "Another?"

"Why do you want to escape so badly?"

"Rough week, month, year. I just wanna feel good tonight, for once." Does he really want to know? I want to skip the life stories and get right to being naked. 

He picks up a shot glass and hands it to me before picking one up for himself. "I hear that."

We do a few more shots and I'm trying to study him, but I can't get a read on him. I can't tell if this is going somewhere or if he just wants to get drunk with me and leave. He's not exactly flirting, but he's not rejecting my advances either. He's a bit mysterious how he sits there not saying much with his mouth, but saying everything with his eyes. He needs this as much as I do, whatever this turns out to be. I can tell.

“We can continue to do this or we can get out of here for some fun. I know you want fun. Why deny yourself? Let’s get out of here.”

He stares me down, pursing his lips together. Is he actually thinking or does he just want to watch me squirm? “One more drink then I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You’re serious?” I was almost expecting for him to turn me down again.

“I’m serious. You wore me down.”

“Don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“You are.” The ends of his mouth curl up into a smirk.

He wants to act all innocent but he’s got a bad side to him and it comes through more and more as the night goes on. He’s not fooling me. We each have one more drink before closing out the tab and heading outside to wait for our Uber. I am still surprised that we are about to go back to his place. I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be nervous. I look up at him and he’s staring at his phone, jaw clenched. I can’t help thinking about all of the things I want to do with him. I can’t wait to kiss those pillowy lips of his. 

He leans in close to talk to me. “He’s almost here.” He awkwardly places his hand on my back, almost wrapping his arm around me but changing his mind halfway through. I feel him relax a few seconds later. The last thing I want is for him to feel awkward around me. The whole point of leaving together is to feel good and have some meaningless sex.

When we get in the car I lean up against him and to my surprise he doesn’t tense up when I do. It’s nice. The one thing I notice is that he is so warm. He must be nice to snuggle up against on a cold day. That is something I definitely should not be thinking about right now. This is going to be a one night stand. Anonymous sex. One and done. A no sleepover situation. The walk of shame. All of those cliché phrases that means I will never see him or think about him again.

The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The alcohol is really starting to hit me, now that we’ve left the bar. I can feel myself smiling like a dopey idiot. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do tonight. I just hope it’s worth it. I hope that it does help me escape the way I need it to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mutters in my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me wish this guy would drive 50 miles per hour faster than he is right now.

“I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

For some reason this doesn’t feel like I’m about to go home with some random guy and have sloppy drunk sex. My limited experience has been that we are all over each other from the bar to wherever we’re going. Kissing, touching, flirting. There’s really been none of that here. I wonder if I’m making a mistake, that I was too eager, that I’m going to be left wanting more.

I quickly learn that not only are we not on the same page, but that he’s also full of surprises when the car pulls up to Top Golf and stops, not his house, where I thought we were going. We get out of the car. I can’t believe I thought he was taking me home with him. I should have known. I should have listened to my instincts. Maybe I should have been more specific.

“You know this isn’t the kind of fun I was talking about, right?”

“It’s not?”

I have no idea if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. “No. It’s not.”

“Oops. We might as well go in, we’re here.”

“This is really what you want to do?”

“You want fun. This is fun.”

“If you say so.”

He places both hands on my shoulders. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

"Allriiiiiight. I'm counting on you."

"Mini golf or driving range?"

I can't believe he's serious. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight so driving range. I've never done it before."

He grins. "This should be interesting."

We head inside, choose a bay, order drinks and food, and get started on whatever is happening right now. At this point I'm just going with the flow.

He sits down in front of the scoring screen. "We have to put our names in for the scoring. What's yours? I'll put them in."

"This is supposed to be anonymous fun."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Nicknames?"

"Perfect."

"What should I put for you?"

"My friends call me Bunny."

"That's cute. Bunny it is."

I watch as he enters my name, then his. "Why are you Chubbs?"

"Just a nickname that stuck. Why are you Bunny?"

"Because I have endless energy. I go go go."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder at me. "Not other reasons?"

I smile. “There might be.”

He smirks before standing up. “The clubs are over there. We each are going to get ten turns to hit the targets. The harder the target, the more points you get.”

“Wait. Hold up. I thought I was just gonna be hitting a bunch of balls. There’s points involved?”

“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s just for fun, though.”

“Alright.”

“You take your club, wave it over here like this, and a ball will pop out.” He shrugs. “Then you just hit it. Don’t let go of the club, though.”

“I won’t. What do you think I am?”

He gets all in my face. “Drunk.” He belly laughs and I can’t help laughing too. “Do you want me to show you how to hold the club, how to swing well?”

“As tempting as that offer is I think I can handle it. Thank you.” I start to step up to take my turn, but then look back at him. “If you get that close to me, touch me, then golf is the last thing I’m going to want to do.”

"Don't you wanna go hard and deep, though?" Putting purposeful emphasis on hard and deep, obviously to drive me crazy..

Unexpected. I almost drop my club “Ok, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”

“Go. Hit the ball. It’ll make you feel better.”

He's actually torturing me now. And enjoying it. How can he flirt like that and act like it's nothing? I normally hate games, but I like this game he's playing. One look from him and I am a puddle of goo. Each word out of his mouth is carefully selected and has a purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing and it only makes me want him more.

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks and food so I take a long sip of my drink before going back to the tee to take my shot. I try to focus on the ball as I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. I don’t dare look at him because I will lose my concentration. I’ve only ever played mini golf and never actually driven a ball before so this should be interesting. I will be happy with any kind of contact with the ball.

I’ve seen this done a billion times, ok maybe not that much, but enough for it not to be impossible to do. Sure, I’m feeling a little loose but it’s not like I’m trying to perform brain surgery. All I have to do is hit the ball out there somewhere. I grip the club the way I think I should and I swing back and hit the ball. It is not graceful and I barely touch it and the ball weakly goes off to the side. How embarrassing.

He stands up and walks towards me. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can be professional golfers like you apparently are."

"I'm not, but my two year old niece has a better swing than that."

"I'm in heels and I'm drunk."

"Excuses. I’m drunk too."

"I don't know you well enough to have to take this abuse from you, you know."

"You should take your heels off "

"If you wanted me to get undressed, you should have just taken me back to your place."

“It’ll be way easier but go ahead and be stubborn if you want.”

I take my heels off and my feet feel a hundred percent better. I also feel significantly shorter standing in front of him now. "Now I can be Tiger Woods."

He laughs. "I wouldn't go that far. At least better than a two year old I hope."

“Let’s see what you got, Chubbs.” I sit down and lean back on the couch and watch as he grabs a club and steps up to the machine. He is one beautiful sight of a man. 

“Watch closely.”

“Believe me, I am, there is nothing that could make me take my eyes off of you.”

He bashfully smiles and looks at the ground before moving his ball to where he wants it. He explains to me how and why he grips the club the way that he is, tells me the proper way to swing the club, what to do with my hips, everything I need to know to do better in my next turn. He hits the ball and looks way more graceful than I did. There’s a satisfying tink sound when the club hits the ball. It lands close to the target but doesn’t hit it. He mutters under his breath at himself. How could he be angry at that? To me it looked perfect. He turns towards me. “You think you got it now?” 

“I think so.”

I feel a lot more sturdy without my heels on. I am feeling more confident in myself this time. I am going to crush this ball. I try to remember everything he was saying to me but it was hard to concentrate on the words when there are so many other things to focus on. His perfectly kissable lips, those dark brown eyes that I just can't get enough of, the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I could go on. I take a swing and this time I can feel the contact with the ball. It goes flying and I jump up and down. "I did it! I did it!" I could not be more proud of myself.

He darts up from the chair. "That was great! Way to go, Bunny!" He holds his hand up for a high five and I smack it. "Felt good, didn't it?" He hugs me.

"Felt really good." I look up at him smiling and he's looking down at me. "This feels good too."

He smiles and licks his lower lip. "You're gonna be harder competition than I thought."

“You said it’s just for fun.”

“Mhmm. Winning is fun.” He nudges me a few times with the cutest smile on his face. I can’t help giggling. I love that he’s starting to let go and be happy. He looked so sad in the bar and here he seems to be in his element.

I pick up the menu. “I’m going to order myself a drink. Want one?”

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the drinks?”

“I’ll be fiiiiiine. It’ll just be one. Maybe two. Want one? Oh my god orange dream sounds amazing. I’m ordering two and you can have one if you want.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Order whatever you want. I got it.”

“You sure? I don’t mind. I’m not trying to play games or anything.”

“I’m sure. I wanted to come here and I’d never let a woman pay. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Ok. If you change your mind let me know.”

He steps up to his ball and hits it so, so far. “I won’t.” He smiles. “Your turn.”

I get up and grab my club. "If the waitress comes by can you order those two orange dreams for me?"

"Yeah. I can. Still think you should go easy."

"They water the drinks down at these places. I'll be fine. It's cute that you're so worried, though.”

“You’re cute.” He says it low and bashful and has made himself blush, but he has the most adorable smile on his face that he couldn’t fight even though he is trying his hardest.

I think I’m blushing too. I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t sure he was even into me. “Thanks.” I can’t fight this dumb smile on my face either. He’s got me all flustered now. The first time I swing at the ball I miss it entirely. “Fuck!” I look back to see that he’s busy ordering from the waitress and didn’t see my epic fail so I play it off and go again like it was my first time. I try to concentrate on the ball but I can’t help looking back and watching him. He’s so damn attractive that it hurts not to be close to him. I actually connect with my second attempt and I actually hit one of the targets. I wasn’t even trying. “I hit it! Did you see? I hit the target!”

He looks up on the screen and sees the score. “Sweet! I saw! I ordered drinks and some more food. Are you cool with nachos and chips and guac?”

“I am very ok with those things. Thank you.”

He walks very close to me on the way to take his shot and stops while he’s right next to me and leans down. “I saw you miss, by the way.” 

“Maybe I need you to show me how to swing after all.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle it.” He’s still talking directly into my ear, which is making me weak in the knees.

“I want it anyway.”

“Too bad it’s my turn.” He leans against me for a second before walking away. I watch that perfect ass walk all the way to the tee. I’ve decided that watching him play is way more fun than getting up there and making a fool out of myself every time.

I step up to take my turn. “I’d like that help now, if you’re still offering.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m still offering.” He starts to position himself behind me and just as he is about to get right up against me and hold onto my hands his phone rings. He mutters several curses under his breath and steps back. “It’s my brother. I gotta take this. I won’t be long. Just go ahead and take your turn.”

I sigh. Of course his brother would call. He was close enough for me to feel the heat off of his body and the anticipation of his hands on me has gotten my heart racing. I don’t want to go. I want to wait, but I don’t want to seem desperate so I take my turn and it’s ok. I am not going to be a golf master any time soon.

He ends his phone call rather quickly, but not before our food and drinks get brought to us. I sit down and wait for him to join me before digging in. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Family's important."

He nods. "Yeah. Very."

"Is….. everything ok?"

"Yup. He just got out of work and wanted to talk. I'll catch up with him later."

"Or tomorrow."

He blushes. "We'll see."

We eat our food and have our drinks before he takes his next shot. For this being an anonymous night we sure are learning a lot about each other and having great conversation. No names, though, we have both agreed that it would be more fun that way. We are going to stick with Bunny and Chubbs. I am having one of the best nights of my life. This has been so unexpected and fun and taking my mind off of everything that’s been getting me down lately. Chubbs might just be my new hero.

“I was wrong about those drinks, they were not as watered down as I thought they’d be. I’m cool, though. Ice cold.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“It’s soooo so.”

“Alright then, ice queen, I believe it’s my turn.”

“Kick that ball’s ass, Chubbs!”

“I will. Just for you, Bunny.”

I get all giddy when he says my name, well, my nickname. I’ll never look at it the same way again. My friends call me it as a goof almost, but to him that’s who I am. I didn’t think I could have this much fun with a stranger. Talking with him at the bar, I would have never thought this is how my night would end up. I really thought I was going to be leaving alone. He has a cocky swagger as he walks up to take his turn. He looks back at me before he goes, perhaps to make sure that I’m watching him.

I never thought I would ever have this much fun doing anything golf related. I am going to have to come back here with my friends. Chubbs and I continue on with our game and of course he gets more points than me. That was never a question. Golf is obviously something he loves and this was my first time and it doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I wonder if I would do any better while sober. I’ll have to find out at some point.

As our number of rounds start to wind down I start to wonder what comes next. I want to keep hanging out with him. My initial intentions are still there, maybe even stronger than before. I wonder if he will want to continue the night or just go home. We have been flirting the whole time, but I still can’t get a great read on him when it comes to his intentions.

He shakes my hand. “Good game.” He looks at the floor and then all around. “There’s other things we can do here if you want.” 

I smile. He wants to keep hanging out, that’s a good sign. I really want to get him alone, though. “Did you wanna get out of here? We can go to my place or your place...if that’s something you want to do.”

“Your place is good.”

My whole face lights up. I was kind of expecting him to turn me down. “It is?”

“Yeah.” 

I immediately take my phone out and open Uber to get us a ride to my place. “We should wait outside.”

“In a hurry?” he asks in that asmused at himself tone that I’ve gotten used to. He loves to tease. It’s annoying how much I like it.

“Maybe a little.” I start to walk away.

“You’re gonna leave your shoes here?”

I stop and turn around. He has the biggest grin on his face. I am so happy I amuse him so much. “Oops.” I put them back on. “Now we can go.” He is close behind me, not touching, but close enough that it feels like he is.

It feels as if life is going in slow motion as I watch the little car on the Uber app inch through the map on its way to us. I wasn’t sure this moment was actually going to happen and I really don’t want to give him time to change his mind. No matter what happens when we get to my place doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want this night to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye forever to him just yet.

“You’re impatient.” I can hear the amusement in his voice as he looks over my shoulder at my screen.

“I always watch the map.”

“You like to be in control.”

I shrug. “Depends.”

He leans in close. “I do.”

I feel that in all of the right places and it takes everything in me not to jump on him right here and now. “Where is this fucking car?” 

He points at my screen. “Right there.” I look at him in almost disbelief. Who is this man and why is he drawing me in like this? His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself.

I bite my lower lip. He’s charming without even trying. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. The car pulls up in front of us. “And here it is.”

The vibe in this Uber is way different than the vibe in the Uber on the way here. I can tell he wants me. His body language is the polar opposite. On the way here he was so tense and standoffish, now he is more relaxed and he couldn’t be closer to me. Our legs rub up against each other and I smile. Any contact with him sends electricity through my veins. He very confidently places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there. He wouldn't dare think about touching me on the way here. I rub his hand with mine, then move it back to my lap.

I continue to watch the map as we get on our way, purely out of habit. “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I mutter to him, as if I don’t want the driver to hear me. I have no idea why. It’s not like he doesn’t know. I rest my head on his arm. I guess I’m feeling more comfortable too, no longer worried about scaring him away. He agreed to come home with me and we both know where this is headed. I feel the weight of his head on mine and can't help smiling. It's been entirely too long since I've been this close to anyone. It feels nice. It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, this is exactly what I needed.

When we get up to my door I have a bit of a difficult time finding my keys in my purse. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I continue to struggle. I finally grab them and fumble with them as I try to get my key in the lock.

He chuckles. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Yes I live here. I’m just…” I finally get the key in the keyhole.

“Drunk.”

“I got it in, didn’t I?” I open the door and we step in. “Here we are.”

He looks around. “This is nice. Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a great space. I lucked out on getting it. There were a few people interested. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

I take him all around my place, unsure if he actually wants to know about any of this stuff. I walk through as fast as I can so I don’t bore him to death. Of course I save my bedroom for the end of the tour, that’s the most important room.

"This is my bedroom, ya know, where the magic happens."

"Magic, eh? Full of yourself."

"I practice my card tricks in here. What are youuuuu referring to?"

"You can do card tricks? Show me."

I laugh entirely too hard. Of course he called me on my bluff. "I can't! I don't know any." I go into a fit of giggles. “I was just joking. Ever hear of one?”

He smiles. "You're so drunk."

"Takes one to know one, bud." I poke his chest and he watches my finger as I do it. “Besides, I’m not that drunk anymore.”

“Still pretty drunk.”

“I blame all of those extra Top Golf drinks.”

“You mean the ones I told you to go easy on?”

“Mhmm. Yup. Those would be the ones.”

He takes a quick look around. “Cozy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out just how cozy later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, I saved the best for last. Wanna see the roof?”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

I laugh. “Nah. Too messy.”

The rooftop terrace is the main reason why I bought this condo. Situations like this is why I wanted a rooftop terrace. I bring a good looking guy home and get to say the line, wanna go up to the roof? And the roof is actually the best part of the whole place. It’s private, cozy, romantic, and all mine. I keep telling myself I am going to start a garden up here, but it’s probably never going to happen.

“I only moved in a month ago so I haven’t finished decorating up here.” Right now all I have is seating and a few tables. Some are single seats and some can seat two or more people.

“You should put an outdoor chess table over there.”

“A chess table? On no. You’re a nerd, aren’t you? I brought a nerd home with me. What have I done? How did this happen?”

"Takes one to know one." He smiles, so proud of himself.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. A game isn’t a bad idea, but not chess.” We sit down on one of the couches. For outdoor furniture, it is pretty comfortable.

“This is pretty nice. Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

“Yeah, most of my time. I love being outside and I could do a lot of things on my iPad. I want to get a fire pit, I just haven’t decided on which one yet. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“If you can’t have a backyard this is the next best thing, for sure.”

"Yeah. I want a house eventually, but this will do for now. I love it."

Something in the corner catches his eye and I follow his eyes to try to figure out what he's so fascinated with. "What's in there?"

I finally realize he's looking at the cabinet. "Oh! Come with me. I'll show you." I love showing off everything I've bought for up here. I think my friends are a little sick of it so I'm glad I have someone new to show. I open the cabinet to reveal all of the goodies I have stored in there. "I may have gone a little crazy. There's the hammock. I don't like to have it out all of the time since it takes up so much room. I have extra blankets and pillows for when I wanna get snuggled up out here so I don't have to go back inside to get any."

"Smart."

"Thank you. I have these little heaters for when it gets cold, and I plan to get one of those tall ones eventually. A broom and some other boring stuff and that's about it."

"Looks like you're prepared for any situation."

"I try to be. It's also a bit of laziness because once I'm out here I don't want to have to go in and out to get stuff."

"And yet you don't have a fridge or cooler out here."

"It's a work in progress. It's on the list, believe me. I still have a lot of plans for this place. It’s my chance at a fresh start.”

“Seems like a good place to start to me.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

"So, who are you trying to forget tonight?"

"I never said it was a who."

"It's always a who."

"Who is your who then?"

He shakes his head. "Mmmno. I asked you first."

"It's a lot of different things, not just a guy."

"But there is a guy."

"Was a guy. What about you?"

"No guy for me."

"Who's the girl, smartass?"

"I never said I was trying to forget anyone."

"But you are. That's why you're here."

"I'm here because you're persistent."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

I could bring up the fact he has a tattoo on his bicep that's a heart with KT in the middle, but I don't want to scare him off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. I've made it this far, it's better to just drop it and move on.

I take a deep breath. "We were in bed one night. Nothing crazy or unusual. We were just on our phones, about to go to sleep. He turns to me and says 'remember when we were happy?' which confused the hell out of me because I thought we were happy. I thought things were perfect. Looking back on it now I know they weren't perfect but they seemed like it at the time. I was happy, though. I didn't need perfect. I just needed us. I still...I miss him?" I figure if I open up maybe he will too.

"You don't sound sure."

"Maybe I just miss what we had. That's never coming back whether we're together or not. He wasn't happy and there was nothing I could do to change that."

"And you think tonight is gonna help."

"It has already."

He grins. "Told you."

"You know what? I'm tired of your smug and cocky attitude."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I go to playfully push him but he grabs my wrists and stops me.

"You're blushing." I try to pull away but he's got a good grip on me. Not hurting me, but way stronger than I am. "Not so fast."

I'm too drunk to even attempt to hide the giddy smile on my face. He smiles back at me with those dimples and crinkle eyes that I've been falling for all night. "It'll be way more fun if you let go."

He hesitates but then slowly lets go and I try to tickle him but he stops me again. "What are you doing?" He's amused. He continues smiling and stumbles a bit.

I laugh as I try to hold him up, as if I'm doing anything. If he were to actually fall we'd both be on the floor. "You ok there, wobbles?"

He looks me in the eyes and sways a little bit. "Fine."

"Are you gonna tell me about your who?"

He shakes his head. "No." He runs his fingers through my hair. We haven't broken eye contact this whole time. All I want is for him to kiss me, although I could look into his eyes all night and be perfectly fine with that.

He slowly leans in and kisses me. I'm a little in shock at first. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. He holds onto the back of my head and I kiss him back. I never want it to end. We deepen the kiss and it becomes more passionate. It’s very intimate for two people who just met, who don’t even know each other’s names. We become more and more desperate for each other and our hands begin to wander and explore each other’s bodies.

He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips just graze my ass and start to wander back up. I almost whimper and his hands stray further and further away from my ass. I want him to grab it, push me up against a wall, and have his way with me. I slip my hands under his shirt to touch the skin on his back. I am craving skin contact and need to touch more. He’s taking his time with his hands exploring my body and normally I would get impatient and want to get right to the action, but kissing him and feeling his hands all over me is a new form of heaven I didn’t know existed.

He finally caresses my ass as he moves from my lips to my neck and I swear my pants evaporate from the heat my body is generating. His hands mirror mine and go under my shirt and it’s electricity through my veins when he makes contact. I kiss around his ear. “Just take it off,” I say, almost in a whisper, in his ear.

He kisses up my neck and to my ear as he messes with my bra. I’d be impressed if he could unclasp it like this. “Can people see us?”

“I don’t know, but we can go inside if you want.” His ass has been calling my name all night so I take this opportunity to grab it and it’s so much nicer than I thought. I don’t move my hands, I am going to be touching this all damn night.

He makes a noise in my ear and nibbles on my earlobe. It seems as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am. “Yes. Inside. Now.” 

I smile and kiss him nice and long before grabbing his hand and taking him inside. Somehow he had gotten my bra unclasped so I take it off from under my shirt and leave it on the chair in my office, which is what leads out to the roof. Before we get any further he stops us, holds onto my hips, and kisses me. His lips are perfect and I wish I could kiss him all night. I know I’m drunk so I’m trying not to be a drunken, sloppy mess about it. I want him to want to kiss me all night as well.

We get to my bedroom and he kicks his sneakers off right away, then he takes his hat off and places it on my dresser. His hair flops down into his face and he runs his fingers through it to push it back on his head and out of his eyes. How have I spent all of this time with him and not known that he has the greatest hair known to man. It’s like porn. It just falls right back into his face. I run my fingers through it for him this time and he smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. He hovers in front of my lips, just out of reach, and rubs his nose along mine. The tease. I palm him through his jeans and he bucks his hips towards my hand. I don’t mind taking our time, but I am not going to be teased. I fucking want him and want him right now. 

When I set out tonight I was hoping to have some sloppy, drunk, meaningless sex. I did not expect to meet a guy, go out on a date, take him back to my place, and have some of the best sex of my life but that is exactly what has happened. I thought it needed to be anonymous and a one night thing and I’d never have to see him again, but how can I let this guy walk out of my life forever after tonight? I can’t. I have a feeling he feels the same way. I hope he does anyway. As we lie in my bed catching our breath I wonder if these same thoughts are going through his head. It’s still so hard to read him. All I know is that he definitely had as good of a time as I did. 

"You should stay. There’s a great view of the sunrise from the roof." This is going against everything I thought tonight was going to be, not like the rest of it has gone to plan. I don't even know what's happening anymore. "Unless you have somewhere to be in the morning."

"Nowhere to be. I can stay." His voice is soft. I don't think he's believing tonight was real either.

“I can get a blanket from the cabinet. They’re nice and fluffy.”

“Do you want to go back up there now? It’s a nice night.”

“Are you sick of seeing me naked already? Alright, I get the hint.” I nudge him and laugh. We probably should get out of bed, though, I don’t want to get too used to him being here.

He laughs and nudges me back. “If we stay here longer I’ll wind up falling asleep and I’ll miss it.”

“You’re right.” I sit up and he runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help smiling. “I’m gonna put sweats and a shirt on if that’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

We clean ourselves up in my bathroom before getting dressed. I grab some water from my fridge before we head outside just in case we get thirsty. It’s the perfect night to stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too cold, there really isn’t any kind of breeze even. The sky is clear so if I didn’t live in the middle of a big city I bet we’d see a sky full of stars. He sits on the couch and I get a blanket from the cabinet. I hate to admit that I am really looking forward to snuggling with him. I sit next to him and we get all cuddled up under the blanket.

We talk a little bit about my other plans for the deck and he tells me about his first apartment he lived in when he moved to Dallas. I love talking to him, nothing is awkward. The conversation is flowing and I feel like we have a nice connection. No matter what happens after he leaves tonight, this has been pretty special. We might also be doing a little bit of kissing in between talking and that doesn’t hurt either.

“I do have a who.” We hadn’t spoken in a few minutes but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence that let us enjoy the night sky and gave us time to think about what’s gone on tonight so far.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok. I want to.” He sighs and pulls me closer to him and mindlessly traces circles on my arm. “We were starting to grow apart. We had our own careers, our own goals. We did the long distance thing for a while but it wasn’t working out so we took a break. I think it hit me way harder than it hit her and I probably should have taken that as a sign that it was time to move on, but I didn’t. We tried again but it just wasn’t the same. It was hard to admit but it just wasn’t working anymore.”

“That sucks. You think you’re with the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with and then you gotta start all over again.”

“I wasn’t looking to just yet. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You don’t have to know yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I want either. Tonight was not something I regularly do.”

“Same goes for me.”

“The one night stand part or the taking a random stranger on a date part?”

He grins, showing those irresistible dimples. “Both.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night, so thank you.”

“You came up to me and wouldn’t give up so I should be thanking you too.”

“You thanked me a few times already.”

He blushes and buries his face in my hair. “That was fun.”

“I told you.” 

He belly laughs and pulls my head to rest on his shoulder. We still have a little while until the sun rises but we find ways to occupy ourselves until then. When I first saw this rooftop deck this is exactly what I imagined I’d be doing on it, I just never thought it would actually come true. I couldn’t have asked for a better night escaping all of my problems. I know they’ll be there to deal with tomorrow, but it was great to escape them for one night. I hope I helped him escape for a little while too. 

By the time the sun starts to rise we are both sober and struggling to stay awake, but we manage to see the whole thing and it does not disappoint. The sky is covered with yellow and orange as the sun says good morning. I am happy I asked him to stay and that he agreed to. I always feel that when I start my day off with a beautiful sunrise, that it’s going to be a good day. I would normally take a picture of it, but I’m too busy watching him be in awe. I never knew that when I bought this place that I would have the best view in the city.

I sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to be leaving soon and not knowing what the future holds for us. I could offer to make breakfast. He said he didn’t have anywhere to be today. I think I’m too tired to move, though. We do have to sleep at some point. I could ask him to come back inside and sleep the day away with me but I think that’s a little too ambitious. I try to study his face and get some kind of idea what he’s thinking. I see joy in his eyes so maybe there’s a chance.

He looks at me smiling. “This is amazing. I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am exhausted and should probably go home and get some sleep.”

My heart sinks a little. “I’d offer to drive you but I’d never make it back. I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

We stand up and I fold up my blanket and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

We make it to the door and I decide that I’m going to let this be what it was supposed to be, a one night thing. Although, it’s pretty much killing me that I don’t even know his name. I should not have made that stupid rule. He hugs me before opening the door. I hug him back and don’t want to let go, but I know I have to so I do. 

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point but I look up at him just to get one last look before he goes. “I know we agreed no names, but I would really like to know yours.”

He shrugs. “That’s what next time is for.”

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 16: Monday (A Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

Chapter 16: Monday

You get up earlier than usual, having spent the night at Henry’s. You awaken to the smell of coffee, basically because you took the time to set the timer. He finds this a pleasant surprise, having never thought to do it, and takes a minute to serve you coffee, smiling about not having to wait to get to the filming site to have some. You fill water bottles and hit the door, Kal being the only one who had breakfast. You decide that you really should stay at your own place on Sundays from now on so as not to interfere with his work rhythm or your own. You are at the gym really early, so early, you steal a nap in the car. Even Kal naps in the car. But Henry? Superman, yes, though a bit of a sleepy one, but after a few swallows of coffee he’s ready to go.

                                          “How are you holding up?” he asks, having finished a set. You take a ten minute walk on the treadmill, which you usually don’t do, but you have time. The coffee and adrenaline have brought the electricity to his eyes and the glisten to his skin, highlighting curves of toned muscle. You pause. He looks something like this after sex, but honestly, more intense.

“Hanging in there, honey,” you say. Your breath catches. Wait, you call Stella honey from time to time, especially when smarting off, but saying it to him now seems…you smile widely. “Elliptical, here I come.”

He gives you a wink, and you both move on with your workouts.

You are halfway through when Archer, Stuart and Stella arrive. Relieved that Hannah isn’t with them, you greet them brightly. “Hey, guys!”

Stella greets you with a warm hug. “You look like you survived!” She smiles and glances at Henry, who is working out. Her voice lowers to a whisper. “You stayed with him?”

It was a good thing you could read lips, because she barely got the words out. You give a small smile.

“Ohmigosh!” Stella covers her mouth, her eyes going as wide as saucers. She takes you by the arm and leads you further away. “So…what happened?”

“He was worried about me, and picked me up so I stayed with him,” you say simply. “Good thing, too, we barely made it before the storm broke and—”

“Oh. My. Gosh.”

“What?”

“He’s the lookalike, isn’t he?” She shakes her head at me. “There never was one?”

You lock elbows with her. “I need you to just not say anything especially to Hannah.”

She gasps, eyes going wide again. “I can understand that.” She crosses her heart. “I won’t tell a soul.”

You feel yourself relax. “Thanks—”

“We workin’ out or what?” Archer asks with a frown.

Henry turns and looks at him.

“Just a second, I’ve got one for you!” you call nervously, and look in the mirror to see Henry’s jaw clench.

“What is going on?” Stella asks. “I’ve never seen Henry look like that. He’s usually upbeat.”

“I need to know something,” you tell her. “You guys didn’t know you left me behind. right?”

“No!” Stella’s eyes went wide again. My, but she was an owl today. “Hannah said that someone told her.”

“Someone?” you frown. “No specific name?”

Stella exhales heavily. “No.” She loses eye contact with you. “That doesn’t seem right, does it?” She looks up hopefully. “Maybe it was Colin or Cindy?”

You remember that Cindy was also checking people out. You didn’t work with her as much as Hannah so maybe Cindy mixed you up with someone else. You were willing to settle for that. You didn’t want to think someone wanted something bad to happen to you. “Makes sense.”

“Either way, it ended well, right?” Stella asks hopefully. She uses the mirror to glance at Henry. “Is that why he looks so…unhappy?”

“He’s concerned, is all,” you say. “He is the main in this production, so he takes safety and production seriously.”

“You sound like public relations,” she teased.

“Ha, ha, ha, the money would be good,” you shrug. “I might need a ride, though.”

“There’s room for sure—”

“It’s Archer’s car,” you point out. “How did the weekend go?”

“We went to their place in town, and Hannah and I took Stuart’s room,” she shrugged simply. “But honestly, we mostly all slept around the telly in the living room.”

“Sounds like you guys had fun,” you smile.

“But it was just you and Henry—”

“And Kal,” you add quickly.

“Not kissing and telling?”

You shake you head, and Stella squeals.

“Archer got room in the car for my friend?” Stella asks.

“Always,” he nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You feel a loss, but manage a smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He looks at Henry and you check the mirror. His cap is lower than usual as he works out, his eyes somewhat shaded from view, but his jaw is set and he looks serious as he curls.

You work out with Stella, and Archer works out with Stuart. You challenge them to do three circuits of eight machines, a minute on each. You catch Henry trying not to laugh as you all do it, some doing well, some not as much. You know the guys are using too much weight, and only suggest they lower it once, but they don’t listen. You and Stella don’t do more than fifty pounds on each of the machines, but the guys were trying to go twice to triple that.

“I can’t believe we did all that in thirty minutes!” Stella smiled, her face bright.

“Gotta have a short intense workouts in case you can’t do an hour,” you pant. “I actually prefer them. We are about to be on our feet all day, anyway.”

“Yeah, all day workout!”

“I got like twenty-thousand steps one day—” You are stopped when Archer steps in front of you and inhales deeply.

“You smell different,” he says in a low voice.

You shake your head. “How would you even know?” You step past him and head to the showers. You shower and dress quickly, a few minutes behind Stella. Henry pulls you aside as you get ready to leave.

“Everything okay?” Henry asks.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“What did he say to you?”

You scoff, “That I smell different.”

“You probably do,” Henry smirked. “You showered with me.”

You feel your cheeks heat.

“No worries, darling,” he grins. “you just used your own stuff, right?”

“Right.”

He kisses your cheek. “Have a good day. Talk to you soon.”

You stretch up and kiss him back shyly.

“Talk to you later,” he whispers.

“Later,” you say and turn to go, only to see Stella waiting for you by the door.

She smiles widely and waves good bye and you walk out. “He looks into you!” she says excitedly.

“Stella.”

“Okay, okay!” Stella bumps you and makes you giggle. “Come on, this is thrilling!”

“He’s actually…not what you think, Stel.”

She gives a low whistle and shakes her head. “If you say so.”

You get in the car, and there is an awkward silence.

“Well, heigh-ho, heigh-ho!” Stella says with forced brightness. “or, how is you say?”

You laugh, “I owe, I owe.”

Stuart laughs at that, and Archer smiles and shakes his head. “Off to work, Arch!”

“Here we go.” Archer starts the engine and speeds off.

The morning goes well enough. You try to keep your head down and work, but you find yourself looking for Henry when you can. You chastise yourself for it, but after the weekend you had with him, it’s normal to want him so soon, right?

You are startled by a hand on your shoulder and look up to see Colin.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” you smile, grateful he can’t tell that you were thinking about Henry and not fully concentrating on your work.

“Glad you’re okay,” Colin nodded.

“Thanks,” you smile, but slightly frown. He didn’t call you back that day, did he? “Any idea about how the mixup happened?”

Colin shook his head. “Actually, no. I talked to Cindy and she isn’t sure either, and we are so, so sorry about that.” He paused. “But you caught up with Stella after all, right?”

“My ride came, yes,” you say evasively.

“Great,” Colin grinned. “No harm, no foul.”

“Yeah.”

“Talk to you later,” he says and leaves.

That didn’t give you much information at all. From the sound of things, he didn’t know what happened either. Resolved and a bit happy to think of it has a mix up, you continue on with your work, part of you reliving the events of the weekend.

Your phone chimes and you look at it.

DAL: Thinking of you.

YOU: Thinking of you.

Now you can’t do anything but smile.

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[quillingyousoftly]

life is far away from fair

Written for Day 1 of Rumrollins Week! The prompts are: Deception/”The sooner we forget what happened, the better.” "Deception" is only there if you squint 😛

AO3 link for tags and whatnot.

Jack quickly became one of the patrons Brock had learned to recognize from far away. Tall and wide-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones and deep green eyes, he was rather memorable. He first came to The Hydra on last year's Halloween with a group of friends, and Brock immediately noticed him. After that, he would show up every week, alone, take a seat at the bar, and ask for a scotch.

What Brock didn't immediately notice was his scent: herbal and fresh, delicate and clearly omega. It was rare for an omega to not smell like a flower garden or a bakery, but looking at Jack, who appeared so much like an alpha he passed the selection at the alpha-only club, it fit him. Still, it was annoying whenever another patron smelled him, looked around, and then gave Brock a suspicious look. It sucked to be mistaken for an omega with the actual omega sitting nearby, clueless. It didn't bother Brock enough to kick Jack out, though; his job was tending to the bar, not selection. As long as Jack didn't cause any trouble, Brock had no reason to call security.

Despite Jack showing up consistently for a year and spending a night at the other side of the bar, sipping casually on his blended scotch, Brock didn't get much more than his name, approximate age (early thirties) and line of work (IT). Brock had a handful more patrons he knew better though shorter. People tended to open up to strangers about their problems. Jack was the opposite; most of the time, he'd sit turned away from Brock, people-watching. He'd also look at the stage whenever they had exotic dancers over, and Brock decided perhaps Jack preferred other omegas--which still didn't explain what he was doing, drinking in an alpha-only club. It wasn't like he was going to pick up an omega here.

Brock spent months pretending he wasn't curious about Jack, but even when he finally admitted to himself--and his various friends--he was fascinated by his person, it still wasn't enough to actually ask. At the end of the night, all that mattered was he paid for the drinks he ordered. The loud EBM filling the club didn't make it easy to converse anyway.

Things changed one Friday before Christmas; the club would close early, and Brock expected it to be a quiet night. The DJ wasn't in, a softer music seeped from the speakers, and the lights were on. Brock liked those kinds of nights the most, when he could just relax behind the bar and occasionally pause Netflix and take out one AirPod to pour someone a drink.

Only a handful of people came, and Brock wasn't sure if he should expect Jack, but he saw his tall figure soon after opening. He poured him a scotch before he even reached the bar and sat down, ready to go back to watching Prison Break when he heard, "The cheapest bourbon you have."

Brock paused, looked at Jack, his unusually unruly hair, reddened and circled eyes and five o-clock shadow, then at the glass he'd already poured him.

"If it's simply about money, we can pretend this is the cheapest bourbon I have. Just this once," he said, sliding the glass closer to him.

Jack nodded in an awkward thanks and sat down.

"Money's tight before the holiday, huh?" Brock asked, taking advantage of the music being quiet for once. "Want me to open your tab as usual?"

"Yeah, but I have only like, fifty bucks." Jack opened his wallet and gave him the bill. "Here. Pour me all the bourbon you have for fifty bucks."

Brock raised his eyebrows at that; Jack used to leave much more in his cash-box on a night. He tried to convince himself it was more amusing than concerning.

"Wow, you must be a generous Santa," he joked.

Jack snorted mirthlessly. "Quite the opposite; I was fired."

Brock winced in sympathy. "Damn. I'm sorry to hear that."

Jack leaned back with his drink, shrugging. "It happens all the time to omegas in the typically alpha lines of work. I thought it would be a good idea to call someone out on their inappropriate behavior, then was blamed for it and dismissed on disciplinary grounds." He scowled, downed his scotch in one go, then set it down on the bar, hard. "Another."

Brock looked around to see if anyone heard Jack's admission to being an omega, but the only people nearby were the group playing poker at a round table next to the bar. They had already caught on who Jack was and didn't have a problem with it.

Brock took a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 and refilled his glass. "You were blamed for someone's inappropriate behavior?" he asked, leaning in so less people heard.

Jack scoffed. "An alpha's inappropriate behavior is always an omega's fault. Don't act like I need to explain it to you."

Brock shrugged. "Sorry if my question was insensitive. I don't really hang out with omegas."

"Yeah." Jack looked around meaningfully. "Could guess as much. No omega to come home to either?"

"Nah," Brock replied and with that their uneasy conversation came to its natural end. Jack turned away to watch the other patrons play poker and Brock went back to watching Prison Break, occasionally pausing to make someone a drink or to refill Jack's glass.

They didn't talk again until two hours before closing when Jack's fifty bucks ran out.

"That was the last one," Brock said, taking Jack's empty glass away.

"Fuck." Jack dug out his wallet, his hands sloppier from the booze in his system, and looked inside. He pulled out another fifty. "Make me another."

Brock eyed the bill and Jack's now empty wallet. "Is that all you have left?"

Jack shrugged and shoved the bill farther in Brock's direction.

"What will you eat tomorrow?" Brock pressed, leaning away.

Jack scoffed. "Fuck tomorrow. Pour me another bourbon."

There were glances thrown at them from the poker table, and Brock finally took the bill. In the end, his job wasn't to worry about his patrons’ personal lives, his job was to pour them drinks and collect the pay. He set the bill down behind the bar, took a clean glass, and filled it with ice. Pleased, Jack leaned back in his stool and greedily cradled the full glass once Brock slid it to him.

They haven't talked again until the closing. The poker club left first, and that was Brock's cue to poke Jack's arm. He was leaning on the bar, his bleary eyes fixed on the empty poker table, the hand that wasn't supporting his tired, drunk face cradling his empty tumbler glass close to his chest.

"I'm closing."

Jack hummed in acknowledgement but didn't move.

"Want me to call you a cab?" Brock asked just before realizing Jack couldn't afford a cab because he'd just drunk all his money. He sighed to himself. "Fuck it. I'll give you a lift."

It wasn't something he'd ever done before for any of his drunk patrons. But then, neither had ever drunk all of their money, and Brock felt partially responsible.

And neither had been an omega.

Brock tried not to think about it, but he wasn't so much in denial not to acknowledge it played a part in making that decision. Jack stirred at his words, and gave him a prejudiced look like he was very much aware of it as well. Or maybe Brock just imagined it.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. "What a Good Samaritan you are."

"You're welcome to take a walk," Brock shot back, shrugging. "But do so right now. As I said, I'm closing."

Jack stretched his long body and covered a yawn with a back of his hand. His shirt rode up his stomach, uncovering a stripe of tanned skin, and Brock turned away from the sight to lock the cash-box. He would just be giving him a lift. He'd known the guy for a year and he wanted to make sure he'd get home safe. That was all there was.

"Fine," Jack said finally, sliding from his stool and putting his leather jacket on. "I live on 542 Freedom Lane."

Brock nodded, grabbing his jacket as well and turning off the music and the lights. He could come in the next day to wash the tables and sweep the floor; he didn't have any Christmas plans anyway.

A couple minutes into the quiet drive, it became apparent ignoring the fact Jack was an omega would be hard. Locked in a small space, sitting so close to him, Brock could smell him better. His scent still was light and unoppressive, but now Brock could discern sweeter undertones, perhaps of peppermint, and something invigoratingly fruity--grapes? It was all he could focus on, and it took all his willpower not to lean in and scent him. He shifted in his seat, gritting his teeth, and kept his eyes fixed solely on the road. He could feel his body freaking out with hormones, could almost smell the change in his own scent. It seemed it'd always happen to him, no matter if he was seventeen or forty-seven.

Despite that, the drive passed fast, and soon enough Brock was parking at 542 Freedom Lane. He looked out through the window to check out the tall apartment building.

"You okay getting home by yourself?" he asked, feeling his heart beating like crazy. His skin was warm and clammy like he was drunk himself.

Jack raised his head from where he was leaning it against the window to look at him with glassy eyes. "Ya can help me if you wanna."

"Okay," Brock murmured more to himself than to Jack, and licked his dry lips. He was just going to walk him to his door, make sure he was safe. He wiped his hands on his jeans and got out.

The air felt cool on his skin as he trailed behind Jack to the apartment block. Jack punched in the code with a trained hand and let them both in. He led them to the closest door, and Brock suddenly felt stupid when he realized Jack didn't need his assisstance at all. He wanted to say goodnight and leave, but instead he watched Jack pull out a key and struggle to fit it in the hole.

And struggle.

"Let me?" Brock asked finally, and Jack gratefully handed him the key.

Brock unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Here you are," he said as Jack brushed past him inside. "Make sure to lock behind you--"

He reached out with the keys, but instead of just taking them, Jack grabbed his wrist, pulled him inside the apartment and pressed his mouth firmly to Brock's.

Brock's mind went blank for a while, barely registering Jack pushing the door close behind them and pressing Brock against it with the length of his hard, muscular body. The sour scent of his arousal overwhelmed him, the feel of his warm, bourbon tongue prodding at his lips made him arch up for more. Jack's big hands ran down his chest, mapping out the hard muscles beneath his black shirt, and paused at his belt.

Brock wished he could just throw all the caution to the wind and go with it with his conscience clear. But the taste and smell of alcohol on Jack prevented him from it. He grabbed his wrists and pushed him away.

"Jack, I can't. You're drunk," he barely whispered, breathless.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Yer a real nice guy." He leaned in, reaching for his lips again. Brock stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Jack, I'm serious. I don't know what asshole alphas you've been running into so far, but I ain’t like that. Let's... Let's meet after Christmas and talk, m'kay? Then we can... figure stuff out," he finished lamely. Jack watched him, looking lost. Brock squeezed his hand reassuringly and let go. "Go to bed. Goodnight."

He slipped out the door before Jack managed to stop him. He almost ran out of the building, taking deep gulps of cool air and willing his semi-erection to go away.

The next week, Brock nervously awaited Jack's arrival, and he couldn't tell if he was more disappointed or relieved when he didn't show. He wasn't sure what he really wanted from Jack, and apparently, Jack wasn't either.

Two weeks later, he wasn't the only one who noticed Jack's absence.

"I haven't seen Jack around lately," Sharon pointed out, nodding at the stool that would normally be taken by Jack, but was occupied by someone else. Brock only hummed in acknowledgement as he prepared her drink. "Doesn't it worry you?"

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," Brock murmured, pouring a mixture of vodka, blue curacao and grape juice into a chilled martini glass. The smell reminded him a bit of Jack's scent.

Sharon took her drink, but she didn't get back to her poker table yet. "He's been here every Friday since I can remember," she said, raising her eyebrow slightly.

Brock shrugged. "Here's to hoping he developed a healthier lifestyle."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Ouch. Anyway, I'd check on him if I were you."

She walked away with her drink, and Brock shook his head to himself. He didn't know Sharon any better than he did any other patron, and here she could somehow tell he liked Jack. He must have been more obvious than he thought.

Her advice wasn't a bad one, though; even if Jack was purposefully avoiding him, it'd be healthier for Brock to just clear that up instead of worrying every Friday. He could handle the truth, however bad it was, but being ghosted? That absolutely sucked.

He drove to Jack's home next afternoon before his shift. He didn't remember his room number, but he got lucky; an elderly lady was just walking out, and kept the door open for him.

"Thanks," Brock breathed over his shoulder, striding for Jack's door. He knocked loudly, wondering nervously what he wanted to say and coming up empty.

The door cracked open and a moss green eye looked at him.

"Fuck, Brock." Jack turned his head inside, presumably to check for something, and chills ran down Brock's arms and chest as he saw an angry red bite mark on the back of his neck. He was almost sure it wasn't there when they... When they last saw each other.

Jack slipped through the door and closed it behind himself. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his words colored by slight panic.

Brock took a step back. "'M sorry... Just wanted to check up on you, after--"

"The sooner we forget what happened, the better,” Jack snapped, laying his hand back on the doorknob.

Wanting to stop him from leaving and unable to help himself, Brock nodded at the back of Jack's neck that was now out of his sight. "I didn't know you had someone."

"I didn't," Jack said bitterly. "I do now. I'm not allowed to go to alpha-only clubs anymore. You should go."

Deep in his bones, Brock could feel there was something very wrong there, that Jack was unhappy. But it wasn't his place to snoop. He wasn't Jack's lover, not even his friend. He was a bartender; his job was to pour drinks and collect the pay.

"Okay," he said soothingly, wanting Jack to lose his guarded stance. He didn't. "I'll go. You know where to find me if..." He shrugged, not knowing how to finish that sentence. He eyed Jack up and down, looked into his eyes that last time. Jack averted his gaze, then opened the door and slipped back inside.

With his shoulders slumped, Brock turned on his heel and left.

[sunshinereversed]

𝙙𝙮𝙡𝙖𝙣’𝙨 “𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡”: 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙨

I think it’s eerily prophetic how the song “Flowers on the Wall” (performed by the Statler Brothers) radiates so strongly with Dylan Klebold. The country tune has already been associated with Dylan because it appears in the background of the video where he and Nate are driving to school. But if you really listen to the lyrics and reflect on Dylan’s inner struggles, they coincide strangely well.

Let’s take the very first line of the song.

I keep hearin' you're concerned about my happiness.

The constant ‘Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay? You seem so down lately’ from his parents, especially Sue, is reflected here. His mother sees that Dylan is ‘moody and irritable,’ often withdrawn, spending time hauled up in his room. She notices the tightness of his voice, which is unlike him, and she offers to make him French toast or an omelet. This must be about something small, she thinks. Yet his sullen demeanor stays as days turn to weeks, and she must ask again in vain, ‘Are you okay?’

But all that thought you're givin' me is conscience, I guess.

It doesn’t even cross Sue’s mind that her son may be unwell. She is simply asking out of concern for him looking unhappy, believing whatever it is will solve itself out. His mother wears her heart on her sleeve, and it pains her to see him so sad. But what can she do if he refuses to talk about it? All she can do is ask and wait for it to pass. He’s a good kid, after all. He’ll do the right thing because she’s worked hard to instill her morals into what he does.

If I were walkin' in your shoes, I wouldn't worry none.

Dylan reassures her repeatedly. ‘I’m only tired. I have a lot of homework. Nothing’s wrong. No one gives me a tough time, I’m 6’4”.’ He wishes she would leave him alone. He thinks she wouldn’t understand; she wouldn’t listen. He tells his parents not to worry. ‘You can trust me,’ he tells his mother one evening after the prom. Dylan goes out of his way to prove that he is the golden child. It works, and they worry none.

While you 'n' your friends are worried about me I'm havin' lots of fun.

Dylan’s social life serves as a mask for what is going on in his mind. He goes over to his friends’ houses, bowls on Friday nights, makes videos after school, plays catch with his dad, and even watches old movies with his mother. He has pictures of good times with friends. Outwardly, he is smiling; life is a dream. This makes his parents rethink their concerns. He’s a happy kid who does normal teenage things. What is there to worry about? He’s assuring those around him that he’s fine.

Now here comes the chorus, which is a bit tricky but makes sense when you consider these things:

Countin' flowers on the wall.

If anyone is familiar with the book The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, this might be a clue. Like the protagonist in the book, Dylan is trapped in his four-walled cell (his bedroom) which is where he does most of his thinking and spiraling downwards. This is where he writes in his journal and vents his frustrations. It’s a toxic environment for his brain. His room is where he cries himself to sleep; hugs his pillow in loneliness; gets drunk by himself. Most importantly, it’s where he blurs fantasy and reality. While not as plainly mad as the poor woman from Gilman’s novel, Dylan is mentally tortured by what he perceives to be ‘an unfair/miserable existence’ and being ‘stuck in humanity.’ He rejects both, and often retreats into his fantasy where he is with his love and away from the world. The ‘flowers on the wall’ symbolizes his own deception of life when he is alone, and might not only symbolize his bedroom, but also his brain.

That don't bother me at all.

Unlike the real world, Dylan very much prefers to live in the fictional one he’s conjured within his mind. It’s his safe place. Paradoxically, his mind is also where he tears himself down and others around him. It’s a poisonous escape. Yet he is already so far gone in that escape, he can’t see the damage he is doing to himself. And he continues to do so, unbothered, and unaware.

Playin' solitaire till dawn with a deck of fifty-one.

‘Playing solitaire’ could be a metaphor symbolizing his isolation and loneliness, his solitude. Solitaire is a single-player game, and Dylan feels alienated most of the time, especially when he is sulking in his room. Thinking, always thinking. Sometimes, as the line implies, until dawn. He is a night owl who cannot sleep because his mind is constantly awake. Playing music, conversing in chats on the computer, formulating poems in his notebooks, doodling, or just thinking (negatively). He oversleeps often because he is up late doing these things. He is alone, in the middle of the night, consumed by his own sadness. Something is missing inside him, and that is why he plays with ‘a deck of fifty-one.’ He thinks a significant other is the thing that is missing, and if he finds her, he will finally be playing with fifty-two cards, figuratively.

Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo.

For Dylan, this is a dichotomy. An everlasting contrast. The balance between two things, lightness, and darkness, good and evil, etc. He’s doing grown-up things like holding a job, applying to colleges, driving a car, and as the lyrics say, smoking cigarettes. Marlboro, preferably. At the same time, Dylan is caught between acting his age and longing for simpler days. This is where ‘watching Captain Kangaroo’ comes in. It’s a kid’s show and is intended for such an audience. Dylan thinks back with nostalgia for his childhood, when life wasn’t full of disappointments, stress, high school bullies, responsibility. He hangs onto items that remind him of his youth: his stuffed koala, origami, classic movies, his trademark baseball cap, his love for fixing old cars with his dad. Dylan is stuck somewhere in the middle of the two, never truly satisfied with one over the other.

Now don't tell me I've nothin' to do.

Again, Dylan tells those around him that he is perfectly fine by engaging in normal teenage things. He hides how depressed he feels. Dylan becomes increasingly irritated the more people ask if he’s okay. The repetition of this line throughout the song is more like a cry for help than a reassurance.

Last night I dressed in tails, pretended I was on the town.

This could symbolize several things, but what comes to my mind is Dylan’s prom night. The fact that he even goes to prom is a pleasant surprise to his parents, confirming that there’s nothing abnormal lurking on the horizon. His father helps him get dressed in his tuxedo, struggles to figure out how the bow tie works, and he pulls his newly washed hair back into a neat ponytail. His mother thinks he looks quite handsome, comparing him to a character in a movie they are both fond of. For a moment, he is just a normal high school kid going to a dance. Nothing out of the boring ordinary.

As long as I can dream it's hard to slow this swinger down.

For one night, at the prom, Dylan pretends this is his life. He is good at blocking out what he considers evil, and Dylan allows himself to enjoy the moment. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring his pain. If he can retreat into the fantasy he’s created in his mind, he is capable of anything, good or bad. It’s like an out-of-body experience. He’s not there when he’s there. Nothing can stop him. He has two settings at this point, 0 and 100. An unhealthy dreamer can be deadly not only to others, but to the dreamer himself.

So please don't give a thought to me, I'm really doin' fine.

As mentioned previously, Dylan flies under the radar to not be asked about his well-being. He holds out his arms to point to all these social activities he’s engaging in with his friends as if to say ‘Look what I’m doing. I’m fine. Do not worry.’ It’s a cruel deception, and he doesn’t even realize he is being deceived as much as those around him are. Dylan starts to believe what he’s telling others. He doesn’t think he is worth the worry.

You can always find me here; I'm havin' quite a time.

‘Here’ can mean one of several places: his bedroom, his mind, or perhaps his existence. Either way, ‘I’m having quite a time’ is a sarcastic remark. He’s drowning in his harmful thoughts, yet that’s where he feels the safest. It’s his protective shell that he puts up against the world. Dylan entertains the idea over and over in his mind that his love is waiting for him in another existence. No matter where he physically is, he’s ‘always there’, lost in his thoughts.

The chorus repeats. Dylan outwardly seems okay. Left to his own devices, he is not.

It's good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright.

This is a goodbye. Even though it is a casual farewell, it has deeply painful undertones. He says he didn’t like life too much but hopes he will find peace in the next one. He offers a final goodbye to those he loved, family and friends. ‘It’s good to see you’ displays how detached he feels toward the end. These are no longer people he knows fondly; it was simply good to see them. The thoughts must end, and he must leave before they worsen. Like the lyrics suggest, he doesn’t want to stick around and knows he must go. A big part of his self-esteem had to do with his self-image. The line ‘I know I look a fright’ symbolizes how negatively he thought of his own appearance. Dylan couldn’t see his own attractiveness. He felt awkward due to his height, long facial features, shaggy hair, and the way he dressed.

Anyway, my eyes are not accustomed to this light.

This is the trademark dark sunglasses that Dylan wears almost everywhere. He hides behind them, shielding his tears from the world. The light comes from the sun, and he cannot withstand the same light that others can, a nod to him feeling isolated from humanity. Though he is called the ‘sunshine boy,’ his eyes are not meant for its light. So, he dawns the shades to (metaphorically) keep it out.

And my shoes are not accustomed to this hard concrete.

Unlike the sneakers worn by the jocks at his high school, Dylan sports black combat boots. They are unusual among the other students, but Dylan feels comfortable in them. Again, he separates himself from the rest of humanity. He is not meant for it. He knows he must go somewhere he feels free.

So I must go back to my room and make my day complete.

By the end of the song, it becomes clear that Dylan now lives inside the world he’s created in his mind. It almost becomes odd for him not to retreat there at least once a day if not all the time. But like the final lyrics, he goes to stay there forever and never to return.

The final repetition of the chorus only emphasizes the truth. He was not ‘doing fine’, despite all the work of convincing others the opposite.

The last line loops again before the song ends. The upbeat and happy tune only makes the message more haunting.

Don't tell me I've nothin' to do.

And no one did.

[sincerelybubbles]

Hi, could I please have a A,G,H,K for Shinsou and a B,R for Ashido? Sorry if that's a lot lol! Only just found your blog but its great!

sorry this took so long!! thanks for the compliment love :) everything’s under the cut bc it got a tad long. i didn’t know if you wanted platonic or romantic for R for mina, so i did both <3

Hitoshi Shinsou

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Shinsou isn’t a super affectionate guy typically

He definitely isn’t into PDA

He’s not super touchy, but he does tend to stand closer to you then he needs to, just so that you know he’s there

While he won’t reach out and grab your hand, if you reach out for his he won’t let go. He doesn’t mind small things like that, just don’t expect him to initiate it and don’t take it too far. He doesn’t want you to hang off of him, but he does like just simply holding your hand

When you’re hanging out with a smaller group of friends, he tends to relax and appreciate some affection more, so he’ll wrap his arm around you or reach for your hand first

One hundred percent the type of guy to only use his phone with one hand so that his other can be around your shoulders or waist

He doesn’t see any reason to kiss you in public, so he doesn’t. The most he’ll do around others is kiss your forehead.

Alone? He’ll kiss you as much as you want

If it’s just the two of you, Shinsou becomes a cuddle-bug. He prefers playing video games with you beside him, either laying on his shoulder, with your head in his lap, or letting him lay against you

He likes the reassurance that you’re there without having to say anything.

And if you play with his hair? He’s out, he will fall asleep so quickly

Something I whole-heartedly believe? Shinsou likes to dance but only alone w u

I’m talking cheesy slow dancing

But also dance parties where he can just watch you relax and let-loose and pull you close if he wants

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

THE absolute gentlest

Physically, he never does anything that could even possibly hurt you

Because of the kids bullying him when he was little for being a villain, Shinsou has spent a lot of time making sure that he’s not ever rough with people, and that extended into your relationship completely

If he needs to get past you, he does the cute little hand-at-the-small-of-your-back thing where he gently nudges you out of the way

He gently tugs your wrist when he wants your attention

And even in the heat of a fight against a villain (if you fight with him) he’s oh-so-aware of where you are at all times so he can protect you and ensure that nothing happens to you.

Emotionally, he can be distant at times

He’s a great listener and gives the best advice

But, he really isn’t so great at the sharing thing

He wants to open up to you, but doesn’t quite know how

He tries his hardest to be gentle with your feelings and how you’re coping, but will sometimes harden up if you try and approach how he’s feeling

He apologizes if he snaps when you try and talk to him about specific things, he really doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings by being so distant with his own feelings, he just doesn’t know how to talk about them without them consuming him

After a while of bottling things up, he eventually breaks down and tells you everything

And keeps you up all night doing it, oops

But after that final wall is broken down, it’s slightly easier to get him to talk and he feels a bit more comfortable opening up

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs more then he would ever admit 

Shinsou craves your hugs, but doesn’t really know how to initiate them

It doesn’t take too much time for you to realize that he likes your hugs a lot though

When you hug him, he always leans into them and holds you tight, pressing his face into the curve of your neck

His hugs are warm, tight, and lingering 

And when you pull away he always kisses your forehead, without fail

He won’t reject a hug from you if it’s in public, but it’ll be shorter then normal and he’ll pull away first, kissing you briefly before turning away with a slight blush

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be with you, he just likes the fat that you’re his and your relationship is something he’d rather be private and kept between you two 

Alone? His hugs can last for several minutes

He doesn’t like to talk while he hugs you, but rather sits there and closes his eyes and relaxes

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Shinsou loves kissing

And he’s really good at it

i mean,,,,

He is so gentle at first, taking his time and making you melt before suddenly flipping the switch and leaving you breathless

And he holds you so close while you kiss, his hand on your hip to keep you close, his other hand holding your cheek

He tastes faintly of peppermint and coffee

He loves kissing your forehead or nose, he likes the way you scrunch your nose when he lands a peck just on the tip of it 

Tired Shinsou requires many kisses and you tease him for being sloppy with them, half of the time not even landing on your mouth but slightly below on your chin before he readjusts and kisses you properly 

He absolutely melts when you kiss his collarbones or the corner of his mouth

But, to be fair, this boy just loves your kisses so much that he’ll take them anywhere you wish to give them 

He’s not really a tease when it comes to kissing, he’d rather use his time making you both happy with the kiss rather then leave you both wanting for more 

Even when he has plenty of time, he keeps the teasing to a minimum, favoring kissing you fully and relishing in how he leaves you breathless, trying to avoid keying you into the fact that he’s just as affected

Mina Ashido

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Mina would one hundred percent approach you first 

She thinks you look cool and wants to talk to you

Even if you’re shy, she wouldn’t be phased, talking enough for the both of you to fill the silence 

And if you match her outgoing energy? Even better

Mina prefers close friendships rather then just people she hangs out with, so she’ll make an actual effort to get to know you

Mina tends to invite herself over to your house or dorm at the beginning of your friendship, but as it develops it’s not even a question if you two will hang out all night on a weekend night. You just do

Mina is the type of protective friend who will absolutely fight for you

She’s a good listener, as long as you treat her the same 

She’s all about supporting you, but wants the same behavior in return 

Also, the crackhead friend

Can and will text you at three am

“Why have there been no recent sightings of the Loch Ness Monster? Do you think he’s okay?”

“Mina, it’s 2:34 in the morning. Go to bed.”

Tends to pick up things for you from the store casually just because she knows you’ll appreciate it and won’t accept excessive “thank you”s for it. She got you the sweater because she knew it’s look cute on you, so put it on and look cute, no need to say thank you

There’s always a fifty fifty chance that she’ll disappear for a few hours and then call you saying that she’s four hours away, lost, but has the best story to tell you about this one guy. . .

Also drags you along on her adventures whenever she can 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) 

Platonic:

The road trip the two of you took on a whim along roller coaster road

You actually came to her and said you wanted to go, so you packed the car within an hour and set off 

Mina made a playlist and you drove and had the wonderful idea to pack the car with blankets so it was cozy

It was just the two of you and you talked for hours 

She loves this memory because it was the first time she really felt that you two were connecting and getting to know each other 

You guys had had sleepovers before, of course, but those were packed with expectations, this was free, spontaneous, and she felt like she could tell you anything and you would just understand

And after that? You two were indubitably best friends, closer then ever before 

Romantic

Definitely your first date 

You looked so cute and nervous waiting for her to show up, and the endless compliments within the first five minutes were absolutely adorable 

You were so sweet and, luckily, loosened up quite quickly into the date, making it so much more fun with easy banter 

She’ll never forget how surprised she was that she was there with you and it was going well

It wasn’t awkward after the first few minutes and she knew that she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else

You made her feel comfortable, accepted, heard, and happy 

She can’t remember a night where she smiled or laughed more

She spent the night after in her bed, chest feeling light and a smile on her face that she couldn’t loose, not that she was trying

[exasperatedcrowleystan]

The mistletoe conspiracy

Pairing: Crowely x reader, Dean x Castiel

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​

Warnings: none, but there a couple of curse words.

Summary:  you and Sam have placed a bet on Dean and Castiel, and set the limits for it. You can't push them, but the mistletoe tradition gives you an opening. When Crowley decides to help, for the sake of creating mayhem, the rules are bent.

A/N: you can find this fic on AO3, here. The whole series can be found here. It’s a series, so you can read each one individually, but they are written to work better together!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Sam are discussing in one of the library nooks, keeping your voices low to avoid unwanted attention. When you realize that, subconsciously, Sam is signing the words, you tease him a bit, smiling.

“You picked up new habits, uh?”

He looks confused for a moment, then he realizes that his hands are still signing something. He grins, definitely at ease. “Yeah... good ones, from time to time.”

“Yeah... anyway, creating the right circumstances cannot be seen as disqualifying.”

“You can't shove them together and tell me that it's not a manipulation!”

“You don't think you can conspire without your favourite demon, right?” Crowley's voice behind you makes you both spring and turn to him. “Guess I should have made myself heard.”

“Yeah, you should have” Sam deadpans, making Crowley grin.

“What were you discussing with such secrecy, then? I thought that with the new world order you finally realized the benefits of telling things. Are you feeling nostalgic already?”

Before Sam snaps, you explain to Crowley what's going on. If you didn't, he'd just keep tormenting you until he gets an answer, spoiling the whole thing.

“We have a few bets going on in the bunker, about Cas and Dean. Sam insists that if I should weaponize the mistletoe to encourage them, it would be unacceptable. Clearly, he's just scared to lose fifty bucks.”

Crowley thinks about it for a moment. “I want in.”

“It's not a pool, Crowley. And I wouldn't take money from you in any case.” Sam spits out, a sour look on his face.

“Come on Sam... what's the harm in letting him in?”

“Why is he still here again?” Sam asks you, definitely annoyed.

“Because I asked him.”

A moment of silence and bedazzlement falls on the three of you. Since you arrived, Crowley just stayed around you, coming and going, but mostly sticking by your side. The most you did was not protesting about this. Admitting you actually want him there... that's not something Sam or Crowley were prepared to hear. Surely you were not prepared to say it.

Sam manages to untie his tongue first, and gives you a knowing look. “Of course you did. Fine... mistletoe allowed, then, but no pushing, ok?”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Eileen and I are going out for a milk run and then dinner. We're picking up the last things for Christmas dinner and a few more bottles. We'll be back later tonight. If you think of anything while we're gone, just send me a text, ok?”

You nod and try to focus and understand Sam's words, but the feeling of Crowley's stare on you is hard to ignore. When Sam leaves you two alone, you finally look at Crowley. He's studying you, apparently.

“What?” you snap, unable to stand the tension or his silence. He knows how to make you uncomfortable, and he enjoys it immensely, or so you think. The truth is a bit more shaded than that.

“Nothing. I just don't recall you asking me to stay.”

“Well... I called you, didn't I?”

“Yes, but...”

“And I asked you to... come pick up chestnuts with us, and you helped with the decorations, right?”

“Correct.”

“So... that settles it, I guess.”

He nods, biting lightly the inside of his cheek. You noticed he does that when he's thinking about something, and you'd die to know what's now going on in his mind. Instead, you look at the high ceiling of the bunker. You're going to use the doors for your plan, that's for sure.

While you walk away, Crowley follows you, once again, without even having to ask for it. He still looks like he's plotting something, and your curiosity can only be kept at bay for so long.

“What are you planning?”

“You know... there might be an easier way to convince Dean and Castiel to act on their ridiculous mutual pining and free us all from this tired show.”

“Of course you just happen to have a plan lying around.”

“You know me. Now... do you want to hear it, or the less you know about it the better?”

“What do you want in exchange?”

“Can we consider this your Christmas present?”

“Hell, no!” you laugh it off. You surely are not expecting the former king of Hell to give you anything, and in any case you wouldn't waste your present on something that's just a matter of time before it happens.

“... half of the revenue of your bet, then?”

“Half of my... what do you plan to do with twenty-five dollars?”

Crowley surprises you brushing the tip of his fingers on your cheek, closing in on you. “Do we have a deal?”

Without even talking, you nod at him. He leans closer to you, his grin impossible to ignore. You instinctively move closer to him, inhaling his scent and trying not to gulp, but he draws back.

“Good. I'll see you later, love.”

“What? I thought you'd help me!”

“I will, I keep my word. Do your thing, I'll do mine. Oh, and... tell the kid. I'm sure he'd like to be involved.”

You don't even have time to protest that Crowley is gone, leaving you alone. You take a deep breath, trying not to overheat and be irritated. You just openly told half of the Winchester family that you are the reason why their once nemesis is casually spending the holidays with you, and said nemesis just decided to bail. “Fucking typical.” Is all you mutter through you teeth before heading to Jack's room.

About two hours later, you and Jack are done. You skipped dinner, but during the holidays it's not really possible to stop eating, so neither of you is hungry. Jack has been touching the mistletoe and working a bit of his mojo on the twigs to keep them fresh. He then hanged them around with his powers, following your precise instructions.

Dean has kept to the Dean cave for the whole time, while Castiel is in the library, reading and just showing up from time to time to cast a curious glance or an amused smile at Jack, who seems absolutely ecstatic about this new discovery.

What you don't realize, is that Jack is indeed a kid, but he's also much more acquainted with feelings than what you think. He's not part of any of the bets placed in the bunker, which might as well find a new life as a gambling den, but he's been looking closely at all of you. And he brought Crowley back for a very specific reason.

“So... do you think it's going to work?”

You wink at him, confident. “Sure. We basically plastered the doors with mistletoe. They are bound to find themselves under these together, especially if you think about Cas' idea of personal space.”

“Oh. So... what shall we do now? Just... sit here and wait?”

“Well... Crowley has a plan for this, too. I think it's fair to assume that tonight we're going...”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean's voice echoes through the bunker, interrupting you. By now you've learned to read the interjection like any other of his phrases, and he doesn't sound on high alert, just very exasperated. Jack looks at you, quickly catching on.

“Crowley's plan?”

“You heard how pissed he is? Of course it's Crowley.”

Not even thirty seconds later, Crowley stumbles in the war room from the corridor, walking backwards to not turn his back to a furious Dean. The same Dean who has what looks like a halo of mistletoe floating about a foot above his head.

“Crowley, if you don't take this thing off I'm ganking you, I swear to God.”

“God is dead, Squirrel, and your ex girlfriend is hands off, remember?”

Dean lunges at Crowley, who simply moves aside, avoiding the assault. “You know, it really goes well with your eyes.”

“Alright, listen here you son of a bitch. Now you're gonna take this off, or I'm ripping your head off.”

“Now, Squirrel. That's not really in holly jolly spirit, is it?”

Despite your best attempts, both you and Jack cannot stifle a laughter. The look of Dean, going around with a gracious little mistletoe crown gracefully hovering above his head while he tries to catch Crowley is simply too amusing to stay serious. Unfortunately, judging by Dean's stare, he's not enjoying the whole situation as much as you do.

“Y/N, this is entirely your fault for bringing him here.”

You openly laugh at him. “I don't know, Dean. I think it gives you the right touch of holiday spirit.”

“Take this thing off or so help me!”

When Castiel joins you in the war room, he tilts his head on a side for a moment, looking at the scene in front of him. Crowley is now standing next to you and Jack, while Dean is glaring murderously at you all.

“What's going on?”

“That damn bastard stuck this stupid thing on my head and it won't come off!”

“I see. How?” Castiel asks Crowley, who just smirks.

“It does come off, actually. You just need to respect tradition. It's magic, so I wouldn't waste grace on it.”

“What?” Dean seems shocked at the idea, and looks at you, awkward and angry. “Well, after all you brought him here...”

“I wouldn't do that, Squirrel.” Crowley's tone is controlled, but extremely threatening. You shoot him a questioning glance, but he keeps staring at Dean, who grabs the twigs and tries to pull them away again, with no success.

“Crowley, I swear.”

Castiel sighs and looks at Dean. A surreal silence falls on all of you, while you all try to anticipate what's going to happen and simultaneously look away. Well, except Crowley, of course.

“Come on, Feathers. Your protégée is under the spell of an evil demon. Your action is needed.”

If looks could kill, Crowley would probably be reduced to a smoking pile of ash on the floor by Castiel and Dean. With a sigh, Castiel moves closer to Dean and puts his hand on the unwanted ornament over his head.

“He's right. This is magic.”

“Yeah, Cas, we established that already.”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“Well...” Dean hesitates. He'd rather die than do this in front of Crowley, but all in all... it's not going to be that big of a deal. And if things go as he plans for them to go, it won't be the only time he's going to have to. Not judging by how close to you he's standing now, at least.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks, and Dean is left speechless once again. Finally, the urge of not wasting another chance outweighs everything else: the expectations, the fears, the doubts and the shadows creeping in the darkest corners of his brain. The only thing that matters now is that Cas is there for him, once again, and he is not going to waste another chance like he did with all the other.

He leans in, moving closer to Cas, who just stays still, the faintest hint of an understanding smile pursing his lips.

Their first kiss is barely a kiss, the lightest brushing of lips against lips, eyes fluttering close for a moment, and then a quick, awkward drawback. Dean is so up in his thoughts that he jumps when he feels something falling on top of his head. Smiling, Castiel takes the twigs in his hand and walks to Crowley.

“Next time you want to practice magic, I suggest you involve a willing participant.”

“That didn't go too bad, didn't it?” he remarks with a very satisfied grin on his lips.

Knowing that Dean won't stay quiet and awkward for much longer, you wisely opt for getting away from there. You also know, by Castiel's look, that they could use some privacy. You nudge Crowley and Jack and hint at the end of the library with your head. You quickly walk away and give the two the space they need.

Once Jack happily sinks in an armchair, you head for one of the cabinets and fish one of the good bottles and two glasses, offering one to Crowley. He steps close to you, and carefully takes in the sight of you. He looks at your hands holding the glasses, moving them on the small space, the focused stare on the neck of the bottle when you try not to spill even the little drop that sticks to the glass. He loves the care that you put in every small gesture, and when you offer him his glass his fingers graze yours lightly while he takes it.

“Thanks, kitten. To what shall we toast?”

“To another one of your brilliant plans, I'd say.”

“And to you winning a bet.”

You smile and click your glass against his one. “Cheers to that!”

You smile, happy to see Dean and Castiel finally acting on their feelings. It was long due, and the idea of Crowley, despite being really simple, was exactly what was needed.

You are so focused on finishing your scotch that you don't notice Jack walking away, leaving you two alone.

Meanwhile, Crowley is staring at you, completely absorbed in his thoughts. He could spend hours studying the way your eyes twinkle reflecting the lights of the hall. He could write pages filled with love and lust about the way your lips curl in a barely-there smile. He'd pass his time grazing your neck with the tip of his fingers, just to kiss the goosebumps away from your body.

You feel the weight of his stare on you, and turn to look at him with a curiosity so innocent that he can't hold back a smile.

“What is it, Crowley?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were... looking at me. I thought you wanted to tell me something.”

He shrugs, taking your empty glass from your hands and setting it down next to his one. “I appreciate beauty. Is it so strange?”

“And you look at me?”

His smile doesn't dim while he answers you. “Where else?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me?”

You laugh, awkward. He always finds a way to keep you on your toes, and he surely has no will to be subtle about it... but that's him. That's the demon you grew to care for, definitely too much.

You missed him more than you'd ever thought possible to miss anyone when he was gone, and when he was brought back... you were happy. So happy that you didn't care about Dean or Sam staring at you, and just went to hug him. If they noticed how emotional you were, they were graceful enough not to mention it. You almost lost it when Crowley hugged you back.

Just when you are finally about to take a step back, something brushes the top of your head. You curiously look up, just to see a small branch of mistletoe floating midair.

“Crowley?”

“Not my doing, kitten. Maybe someone is expecting you... us to follow tradition.”

“I...”

Your stare falls on Crowley's lips, only to find them curved in the softest smile he's ever given you. You nod, not trusting your voice enough to speak. He places a hand on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb. You study his dark green eyes, taking in the imperceptible streaks of blue almost hidden in the dim lights.

He moves as close as possible to you, stopping just a second before touching your lips. “God, you're beautiful.”

You close the distance between you and smile against his lips. You smile for everything: his words, his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his soft lips.

He kisses you gently, without hesitation or rush, savoring the moment and your taste on him.

His hand rests on your skin, while you open your mouth and deepen the kiss. His tongue touching yours sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and you inhale sharply. You can feel his signature smirk making an appearance while his hand slides on the nape of your neck and buries through tour hair, pulling you as close as possible.

When you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his one, grinning. “How's that for tradition?”

“I'm sure we can do better than that.”

“You know... I've heard the naughty list is incredibly funnier than the nice one.”

“I'd be a lousy demon if I couldn't move you there.”

You giggle and peck his lips, taking his hand and heading to your room.

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