#but it's a weird casual one-line email to receive after being out so long and all the stress of putting together fkn medical evidence

[ledeadface]

aaaaaaaa im going back to uni

[sweetestlamb]

Put On A Show

Summary: Cha-young goes to her high school reunion and brings a certain mafia guest. 

Author's note: I heard someone wanted a on top and in control CY so here it is! I already had this idea about a HS reunion so I simply combined the two ideas and got this smutty brainchild. This is rated E for extremely dirty so read at your own discretion, I planned on writing more fics of them pining but I really do love a women in control so I took a break from my cockblocking to fill this prompt. Hope you enjoy ;) 

Dear class of 2005,

That time has come once again, our class reunion! This year's reunion will be held in the Phoenix Hall in honor of us all rising from the ashes of this pandemic and being reborn stronger than ever before! Tickets available for purchase below. There are separate tickets for food and drinks and this year's theme will be luxury: a life of decadence. We look forward to seeing you all.

Cha-young skims the email that had initially landed in her spam folder, only the name of her old high school attached in the subject line catches her attention enough to make her open the otherwise nondescript email.

Another high school reunion.

She had been evading these gatherings like the plague itself, ever since the last time she'd made the mistake of going to one. She had just landed her job at Wusang Firm and finally felt confident in herself, in high school she'd always been the loud one and the weird one but now she was a lawyer and a damn good one if she said could say so herself. Nobody could dismiss her now or jokingly remind her of the bowl cut she had sported before, she was always the butt of their jokes and she was tired of feeling small beneath their condescending thumb. She finally had something worth bragging about. 

She'd stepped in with a smirk on her face, tight black dress and heels clicking as she walked waving at people she knew but didn't deign important enough to stop her entrance for a chat. The buffet table was her sole destination but she'd been intercepted by familiar annoying high pitched voices, Chang Ae-ram and Bom Min-he, the popular girls in her school and the banes of her existence both rushed over to her with drinks in their hands.

They never had anything kind to say to her and seemed to seek her out simply to put her down or remind her of how much of a “pathethic loser” she was in high school, as if she hadn’t been the one living her life. 

The verbal sparring began almost immediately, with them all battling for lead in the "my life is going great" contest, coyly listing their accolades and accomplishment and assertively she told them both about her new job at one of Korea's most successful and well known law firm.

"Oh." Ae-ram answered with a tight smile that pulled her surgically enhanced face into a wrinkleless grin. 

Score.

She sipped her drink feeling victorious as they both avoided her brazen eye contact. She had just opened her mouth to make her leave when a vindictive smile stretched over Min-he's face, "A job is so important but what about a family? Surely you don't plan on dying alone, how come you never bring anyone with you? We're all so sad that you don't have anyone still." She gripped the stem of her wine glass at the fake concern, suddenly the group was larger and everyone was congratulating Min-he on her engagement, the other woman waving the huge diamond on her finger in her face.

It was so vapid and stupid and she knew that it didn't make her any less of a woman that she didn't have a man but those words still burned. She had noticed that everyone was paired up and she was one of the only people who came alone, she'd been seeing someone before the reunion but at her mention of the gathering he had told her that "things were getting too serious for him" rolling out of her bed while tugging on his underwear and that had been the last she heard from him.

She'd spent the rest of the night on the outskirts avoiding her college mates and later stumbled out on her heels unsteady from the amount of liquor she'd consumed.

That had been her last reunion. She'd pointedly ignored all the invitations since then, the shame of that night still stinging all those years later. They only served as a reminder that she still had no one and regardless of how successful she was at her career she would be deemed undesirable by others.

It was such a fucking joke but she couldn't shake the insecurity despite knowing how false it was.

The sound of keys jingling near the front door knock her free from her reminiscing and she spins around to the sight of Vincenzo struggling to squeeze through the entrance with several bags in his arms, he never wants to make more than one trip- the overachiever. She nods her head in hello before trudging over to him without closing her laptop, greeting him easily with a peck on the lips freeing a few bags from his hands.

"Did you get my cookies?" She asks again despite the various text messages she had sent reminding him about her sweet treats, he rolls his eyes at her again swinging another bag into her waiting hands.

"Here. When I told you to text me necessities, cookies are not what I had in mind." He flicks her forehead lightly silencing her cry of pain with a follow-up kiss to the spot, she grumbles but stuffs the soft baked chocolate chip cookies into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk hoarding food for the winter.

Smooth as a well-oiled machine they put the groceries away, the sound of cabinets opening and closing the soundtrack for their movements. When everything is correctly put away, she makes her way back over to her laptop only then remembering what she'd been doing.

She stares at the screen contemplating her next move before she feels a familiar heavy weight on her shoulder, his breath is hot on her neck when he speaks, "What are you looking at?" He barely waits for her reply covering her hand on the sleek mouse, scrolling down to read the entire email. She waits anxiously in her seat as he reads the words out loud, obviously she had thought about him when she first received the email but her last experience had made her nervous about asking him to attend.

They hadn't been officially dating for long. They'd been too focused on taking down Babel and the aftermath had left them both with unanswered questions about the nature of their relationship. 

Only this time when she asked him the same question she'd been asking since he crash landed into her life unexpectedly, after everything  was over, he'd looked over at her and said in a small voice "Not if you want me to stay."

She'd been a coward and he had taken her silence as rejection and it had taken a dramatic and honestly cliché airport interruption, complete with her pushing past airport staff and screaming his name crying as they told her that the plane to Malta had already taken off.

She'd returned to her house with red rimmed eyes that widened into huge saucers at the sight of him in front of her house, large suitcase beside him.

Gasping she ran into his arms, as terrified as she'd felt that fateful night so long ago in the underpass. 

"I couldn't go."

He tugged her closer, burrowing his face in her thick hair and breathing harshly his voice was raw and rough like he'd been crying too.

"Because of me?" She asked shock laden in her words and that's when he drew away to stare into her eyes and with a defeated nod he said, "Because of you."

The rest had been history. He came inside with her and he hadn't left since.

"Are you going?"

She stills at the inquiry, head dizzy from the memories racing through her mind.

"What?"

He places a finger on the computer screen, "This reunion. Are you going?"

She feels a small sting in her chest at his words, with a sad smile she starts to shake her head in decline but then he chuckles, "We should go. I'll be your arm candy." He teases wagging his eyebrows in her peripheral.

Oh.

"You want to come with me?" She repeats stunned by his casual offer, this seemed huge for some reason and she could feel her heart pounding erratically in her brittle chest.

He finally straightens up walking off to the kitchen grabbing a cup, pulling the fridge open.

"Yeah I mean unless you have another boyfriend you want to bring with you."

She laughs at his joke but internally her blood sings, she didn't want to get her hopes up but now she can barely contain her happiness.

She can always count him to have her back.

Slamming the laptop shut she circumvents the chair running over to him, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow prying the cup of water from his hands she pulls him down into a grateful kiss. He hums low when she slips her tongue into his lax mouth, this kiss vastly different from the peck she'd greeted him with at the door.

She can taste the caffeine on his tongue, the strong flavor of his favorite espresso swirling around her taste buds, pushing him firmer into the counter she laps at his mouth eager for a deeper exploration. He melts under her touch letting her manhandle him and move his head as she sees fit, his complete surrender makes her hot under the collar.

It's with reluctance that she pulls away from his addicting lips.

She smirks as he sways into her body as if intoxicated.

"Sorry. We have to go soon, it's game night."

It's a weekly tradition at the plaza, tonight they're playing Taboo, it had been announced in the group chat that Mr. Nam had forced them to join. It was chaotic with so many different voices there but it made her feel warm, like they were their own little family.

He groans disappointed but nods slowly, adjusting himself discretely but not enough for her vigilant eyes. She stares at the hardon visible through the thin material of his sweatpants.

"Let's go before you get me any more excited." He grumbles, picking up the snacks he'd purchased for tonight. She smiles triumphantly at his back still in disbelief that she has that kind of power over the great Corn Salad, Vincenzo Cassano.

Game night is a success, filled with laughter and playful arguing. They all work together in pairs and their team loses horribly with her accidentally shouting out all the taboo words every time it's her turn. Mi-Ri and Larry Kang- from the dance studio make a great team using dance moves and inside jokes to solve their words in seconds much to everyone’s shock, they both adamantly deny any change in their relationship at the groups subsequent teasing.

Nobody believes them. 

Just like they hadn’t believed her and Vincenzo. 

They get home at midnight and both collapse before they can finish what they started earlier in the kitchen, but cuddling is great too. He’s always the little spoon. 

The reunion isn't a point of conversation again and she almost forgets about it completely until it's Saturday, the day of the event and she wakes up alone. It's not totally abnormal with him being a morning person but she still groans in annoyance at his disappearance. The bed is so cold without his body letting off heat like a human furnace.

The sun is high in the sky when she finally pulls herself out of bed much later, 12:45pm according to her phone and she sits up with a full body stretch, body popping and cracking.

"Vincenzo? Are you here?" She calls out to the empty house, receiving no reply.

With a sigh she goes to shower and brush her teeth, he should be back soon from wherever he went.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following her she pauses at the package on the bed. A huge white box catches her eye, the gold silken bow striking across the large rectangle. Taking a closer step she runs a finger across the smooth material in wonder.

There's a note and immediately she recognizes the distinctive penmanship.

Open me.

Not needing to be told twice she tugs the bow watching it unraveling before lifting the top of the box, peering inside with glowing eyes.

She lets out a soft gasp at the sight of the piercing white material that is almost perfectly camouflaged in the matching box. She lifts it with awe, watching material unfurl until she can see it clearly. It's a dress made from expensive fabric based on the its luxurious feel in her hands and her eyes widen at the cape that hangs lower than the dress itself.

"He was listening to me."

She remembers her group chat with the ladies from the plaza, sending them different options for her reunion and letting them help to pick it her outfit. She wanted something that would garner attention but that still felt like her, and that's when she'd seen it. The new Alexander Wang collection, all white blazer dress with a cape and button details, it looked like luxury and she knew it had to be hers.

The ladies had all been in agreement sending her thumbs up emojis and demanding that she purchase the stunning dress. She'd quickly added it to her cart but much to her dismay as she'd been entering her card information, that dreaded message popped up at the top of her screen.

This item is no longer available. Sorry, try again. 

Her heart had sunk and despite Miri's computer savvy and Yeon-Jin 's online shopping prowess they had not been able to locate the dress on any other site. It was sold out, everywhere.

Or so she thought.

Wordlessly she slips into the dress and surprisingly it fits like a glove, as if it was tailored just for her but that can't be.

"I'll zip that up for you."

She jumps at the dark voice behind her and then a chill runs up her spine at his fingertips on her bare back. He slides the thick curtain of her hair to the side to zip it up the rest of the way, their eyes meet in the full length mirror across the room.

"You look beautiful." He compliments easily, eyes caressing her body from her head down to her bare toes.

She feels like a goddess under his eyes.

"Where did you get this? It was sold out everywhere." She stares at him in wonder and he smiles at her gaping mouth, "I called in a favor. I knew a designer who owed me a favor." He shrugs as if it's nothing that he knows designers who are connected to the Alexander Wang, she's still not used to his influence.

Wait.

"Do you know Alexander Wang?" She shouts in surprise spinning to stare at him and his easy smile and open hand gesture is enough of an answer.

"I got your measurements from Mr.Tak. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

Her nerves have been shot all week, it's true that they haven't discussed the reunion at all but that doesn't mean it hasn't been on a mind even haunting her dreams.

She didn't want to be embarrassed again. She knew that she shouldn't let them get to her, she didn't have to prove herself to anyone but for once she just wanted to make them all eat those condescending words. She wanted to show them that she was the same weird girl from high school but she was even more now, also a successful woman and there was nothing wrong with being both sides of those coins. 

Without her even saying one word he'd been able to detect how important this night was for her.

"Thank you." She breathes tears glistening on her eyes, he wraps both arms around her waist beaming at her in the mirror.

"Don't thank me yet you didn't even see the shoes yet."

Without waiting for her answer he steps away to lift a pair of sparkling shoes from the box, the red soles immediately notifying her of the exorbitant brand.

She gapes at the shoes and then a smirking Vincenzo and then back at the shoes, "Are you crazy? Are those Louboutin's?" She asks the obvious question turning the shoes over to stare at the vibrant scarlet soles. A certain Bronxite’s voice blaring in her head about blood shoes. 

"They did say the theme was luxury. I thought these were just right for you." Squealing like a kid in candy store she sits down on the bed with both shoes in hand, but before she can slip them on he's lowering himself to his knees. The sight is enough to stop her in her tracks, her traitorous imagination running wild at the implications and possibilities. When he takes the shoes from her loose grip she merely watches as he slides the shoes onto her feet, just like the dress they too fit perfectly.

"I feel like Cinderella." She chuckles trying to break the tension and the swell in her chest but his bright smile only makes her chest constrict tighter, she doesn't know if she'll survive tonight.

"Hong Cha-young!" She freezes at the sound of Ae-ram's squealing voice only pausing for a moment before turning with a tense smile.

Here we go.

The woman is flagged by her usual posse and parrots, who are always ready to echo her biting remarks and she gulps down her dirty martini needing some liquid courage.

As if sensing her unease instantly Vincenzo takes the hand that was artistically placed in the pocket of his fitting white dress pants and curls it around her waist, grounding her with the simple touch. She turns to him and he greets her with a calming smile that she can't help but return.

I've got your back. He says with only a slight lift of his lips.

She takes a deep breath.

Ae-ram's smile dims as she gets closer to them, her eyes honed on the hand on her hip and she leans fully into the warm body pressed against her side.

Min-he speaks first, an equally constipated smile on her face, "Who's this? You've never brought anyone before. Is this a work friend?" She almost rolls her eyes at the ridiculous question, as if work friends would be this comfortable with each other. They're already finding excuses, grasping at straws and creating complicated solutions for something that is easy to understand simply because they don’t think she’s worthy of attention. That large hand tightens lightly before a light chuckle reaches her ear, “Vincenzo Cassano, lawyer and the lucky man who gets to call her my mine.” She fidgets in his hold blushing at his bold introduction and watching all eyes widen at them, nobody speaks at first clearly in shock at the revelation. 

“Vinshenzo? What kind of name is that?” Someone harps from the back of the crowd and she feels her hackles rise, yes she might have struggled with the pronunciation of his name at first but it felt petty and intentional right now not an honest mistake like her mispronunciation had been. 

But before she can unleash her anger, another old classmates breaks the tense stalemate.

“Oh you’re the Italian lawyer I heard about on the new, who took down Babel! Great job!” 

She had also helped with that, them being a team but nobody seems to care about that all focusing on Vincenzo, all herding around her Italian like he’s a celebrity and she watches shock as he easily wins them over. 

“Sì, ero io. Il piacere è tutto tuo.” Yes that was me, the pleasure is all yours. 

The group minus Ae-ram and Min-he all oh and ah at his effortless Italian despite having no clue what exactly he just said, she too is clueless at the quickly stated sentence but the mischievous smirk on his handsome face informs her of all that she needs to know, he is mocking them right to their faces. She hides a smile behind her hands, pretending to cough into her fingers. 

Wordlessly, the group separates based on sex-she watches helplessly as Vincenzo is tugged away in a boisterous discussion about the state of Korean football- and she is left alone with those harpies but unlike the other reunions suddenly she is the most interesting woman there, regardless of Ae-ram trying to steal the show with pictures of her new full breed dog. She watches amused as the other woman is pushed aside and she is accosted on both sides, questions firing off like rockets. 

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a brother?”

“When are you getting married? You have to marry him!”

“Does he always smell that good?”

She turns flabbergasted to hear that question coming from Ae-ram’s right hand woman, Min-he and Ae-ram glares at her looking betrayed before she storms off with her professional head shots of her dog. She expects Min-he to trail after the spiteful primadonna but to her shock the other woman moves in closer, joining the firing brigade with their million questions about the handsome Italian. 

They all settle down when the man they are so curious about returns, hand back on her waist like that its resting place. 

Her ears ring from their coos and shrill “awws” but she leans into him nonetheless happy to have him back, already exhausted dealing with these people. 

Then she notes that the tone of the questions suddenly shift as they begin to bombard the Italian Korean all at once. There are....more flirtatious when speaking to him and she feels her blood curl at the unprecedented change. 

“Are all Italians this handsome?” Her eye twitches at the bold inquiry, subconsciously she feels her eyes narrow into slits as she glares at the woman who was brave stupid enough to ask that. The bitch blanches at her sneer but still flutters her eyelashes at Vincenzo waiting for his response, she clears her throat loudly answering for him, “He’s one of a kind and fortunately all mine. “ She can feel the smug bastard preening next to her practically buzzing from her compliment, and she quickly makes their escape, “Please excuse us.” Vincenzo smoothly tips his drinks at the women, “Addio,” he bids farewell in Italian arm still hooked around her waist as she sashays away, Louboutin's clicking on the marble tile floor. 

The scrap of Italian leaves them all in a frenzy, whispering wildly behind them. 

She drags them to the bar, ordering two shots of soju and another dirty martini ignoring his examining stare. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She already knows the answer to her question, it’s written all over him and she tries to stifle the jealousy that wants to rear its  ugly head. 

He looks over at her with a lazy grin, trying to appear innocent. She isn’t fooled for one second. 

“Me? I’m not doing anything. I’m only here for you.” 

She scoffs at him, staring at his annoyingly handsome face and his gleaming white suit he discarded the jacket earlier and his arms have been distracting her all night. 

“You love the attention.” 

He rubs his neck before turning to her fully, leaning on the bar counter. 

“What? Are you jealous of the attention I’m getting? isn’t that why you brought me to make you look good?” 

She wants to deny it and laugh at him, but even now she can hear the voices in the distance all intrigued by the Italian and the bartender’s eyes linger just a minute too long as the smooth Lawyer throws his free shot back in one fluid motion. She should be used to it by now, everyone in a ten mile radius getting a hard on for the Korean Italian. She understands why he gets all this attention, he is gorgeous that was one of the many reasons that she had fallen for him too but sometimes it can be intimidating to be with someone that so many others desire and so obviously too. 

She wonders if she even deserves him. 

Was she enough for him? 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He taps her on her forehead dragging her from her self-deprecation. “Do you know why they’re all so mean to you?” He suddenly asks and she stares at him before shaking her head no. 

Probably because she’s a hot fucking mess. 

“They’re jealous of you.” 

A burst of laughter slips free at this speculation and she watches as his face tightens, “You really don’t know do you?” His voice is liquid fire, smoky and dark like the tendrils from a cigarette. 

“What are you talking about?” She manages to get out despite being lost in his voice. 

“How sexy you are.” He leans over to whisper directly in her heated ears, she moans lightly at his breath on her skin. 

That is hardly ever a word that she has heard used to describe her, Hong Cha-young. 

Clumsy. Forgetful. Selfish. Loud. Demanding. Too Much. 

Those words she had heard all her life but never sexy. She was too strange to be sexy. 

“You’re smart and beautiful and you have a successful career. You aren’t afraid to be yourself and now you have me on your arm. You have everything and they wish they were you, they’re jealous.” He repeats firmer this time, rubbing a large thumb across her bottom lip and grinning down at her with barely contained glee. 

She starts to deny his claim but then she looks behind her and sees nothing but a sea of envy, women and men both looking at them and she notes not all eyes are on Vincenzo a few men seemed lost in the low cut dip of her dress and the miles of naked skin on display. 

She gasps at the hard line that pokes at her bottom when he leans into her back, standing flush her back to his front. She shivers when he leans down to breathily say, “Everyone is watching, why don’t we give them a show?” 

This is not like her, at all. 

She has never been a fan of public displays of affection, even screaming at horny strangers in the past to get a room but she feels all that restraint leave her body at his challenge. Driving her body back into his jutting erection she slowly grinds in perfect rhythm to the song playing over the stereo. 

undefined

She feels seductive as the music curls around her and she lifts her arms to wrap around his neck, bringing him ever closer and pushing back harder delighted at the groan that escapes his lips. He is coiled tightly behind her but he doesn’t move a muscle letting her have complete control over their interaction and she has never felt more powerful. Continuing to sway she leans back when he tightens his grip around her waist, mewling as his nose rubs at her earlobe and letting out a soft gasp when he blows on the tender flesh. 

When she peels her heavy lids open, there are so many hungry and watchful eyes on them. 

Ae-ram looks scandalized and she can see the woman pointing at them but she can’t hear a word that she’s saying the blood in her ears is too loud, drowning out all other sounds. 

It must be the liquor in her veins because seeing all the voyeurs only makes her bolder, before she can second guess herself she spins around much to Vincenzo’s chagrin but she silences him with a finger on his lip. 

“Follow me.” 

He arches a thin eyebrow but eagerly obeys her command when she tugs him in the direction of the bathroom. 

She hears several gasps behind her as she tugs open the door stepping inside, dragging him right behind her the silence is deafening when he closes the door behind them, turning the lock with a metallic snap. 

Her breath comes out in hurried puffs. 

What the fuck am I doing? She asks herself, wondering if this is what people call an out of body experience. 

“We don’t have to do anything. Their imaginations will do the rest.” 

He’s giving her an out. 

Gripping his hands tighter, she pulls him over to the toilet which is thankfully clean using her feet to slam the seat down before pushing down him to sit. He looks up at her with inquisitive eyes, waiting for her next move but lets himself be manhandled the second time this night. 

“Thank you for everything tonight,” she covers his mouth with her hands as she climbs into his lap, whatever words he had on his tongue evaporate when their groins meet. 

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you.”  

She has only ever said it once before and he’d been sleeping, they both knew he wasn’t truly asleep but he let her pretend and she appreciated it but there was no way she couldn’t say it now, tonight. He had been her prince charming when she had expected nothing. 

“Are you serious? You say it to me in her-” She pops open his pants button cutting off his stunned response and he stares at her, making her feel hot. 

“Talk later?” She begs and her request is backed by her hand disappearing through the slit in his pants and wrapping around his dick, the hot muscle twitching fiercely in her hold. 

He chokes out word that sounds like a jumbled “yes” and that’s all the consent she needs to stroke him harder, using his precum to glide her hand down from the tip to the base and then back up again, he lets out a punched out groan at her purposeful handling of his imported goods. 

Shifting back marginally, she gives herself more room tugging his pants down further to get a better look at the pretty pink cock, it’s standing at attention and weeping for her and rubs harder twisting in a corkscrew motion on the mushroom head much to his pleasure, he thrusts up into her hand and immediately she lets go. 

“Please,” he whines so prettily and she tsks at him, “Don’t move, you can only take what I give you. You said you were mine right?” 

She doesn’t know what has come over her but seeing all those women and men lusting over her boyfriend makes her want to remind them and him, just who he belongs to. 

She expects him to put up some sort of fight, instead he nods eagerly at her command stilling his hip and she can see the strain in his white knuckled grip on the toilet edge. 

“Good boy.” She praises and notes with stunned satisfaction the way his dick jumps at the praise too, interesting. 

She starts with a light pace, stroking with the barest amount of pressure before she starts to grip him tighter when he groans at the dryness of her hands she leans over to spit on his head, this makes him hiss and fight to stay still in her grip she rewards him with a kiss to his flushed red head. The wet sounds of her hands stroking his hot meat fills the small space of the bathroom and lifting one hand she grabs his tie using it to yank him into a hard kiss, he opens up for her immediately letting her tongue explore his mouth. 

She has never seen this mafia man so docile, it’s like seeing a lion behave like a house cat. 

With a hard suck at his bottom lip, she breaks their kiss leaving them to pant into each other’s mouth harshly. 

She didn’t know how far she actually planned on going but now nothing seems like enough, she needs more. 

Staring deep into his eyes, she stands up releasing her grip on him and he sighs watching her confused before she slides both hands under her dress and slowly pulls down her panties, they are tiny, white and lace, matching her bra and he looks mesmerized as they are pried down her legs. 

“Are you sure?” He’s still checking on her and she smiles at him, stepping out of the panties and cheekily putting them in his pocket, “Give them safe for me,” she doesn’t give him a chance to reply before sinking back down onto him, his dick is hard and thick but she’s so wet that he glides into her like they are two matching pieces of a puzzle.  An erotic puzzle. 

“Fuck!” He shouts when he bottoms out and his cock is completely encased in her tight walls, his voice echoes off the bathroom walls. 

She grabs his tie, making his eyes pop open and she watches amused as he sputters as she stuffs the expensive material into his mouth. 

“You’re being too loud.” She teases remembering all the times he had been the one admonishing her as she screamed beneath him. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He echoes her words from spitting out the tie and she can’t deny it, so instead she rocks forward taking even more of him simultaneously shoving the wet tie back into his mouth listening to his barely muffled grunts. She rises up on the tips of her toes, her red bottoms giving her that extra bit of height, his hard tip popping free with a wet squelch before she slams back down onto him titling her head back and moaning to the ceiling. 

He’s being so good, not moving at all simply letting her fuck down on him and she can tell his control is slipping every time he grips her waist too tightly, painfully. 

She continues to ride him, chasing her own pleasure and whimpering when his blunt head slides across her engorged bead, rocking vigorously up and down as she feels the end drawing near. She tightens her hold on his shoulder, using him as leverage to ride him faster, his thighs tense under the weight of her body and her rapid pace. 

The wet smacks fill the air filthily and she feels dirty, absolutely nasty but instead of shame an intense wave of pride barrels over her. 

“You’re mine.” She whispers out loud to herself but he misinterprets the words and eagerly nods at the statement thinking she wants him to declare that he’s hers, “Yes I am yours, all yours,” and she loses her mind, pistoning herself rapidly on his lap before pleasure surges through her body, starting in her toes and curling up her thighs and she rocks her nipples into his chest through their layers of clothes, she muffles her cry in his throat roughly pulling at the skin there to silence her deafening screams. 

It’s only then that he breaks the rules, reaching up to grab her shoulders and yanking her down to meet his vicious upward thrust and waves and waves of thick streams fill her up until she feels it leaking at the sides. 

There is no sound besides their louds pants. 

Then two loud knocks make them both jump from their wrecked state, his softening length falling from her grip. 

“This is the only bathroom.” A voice calls out disgusted and with a gasp she stands up straightening her dress and running a hand through her hair before realizing that it’s still sticky, great. 

Vincenzo is a puddle on the toilet, legs spread apart and softened dick not yet tugged away, he looks like sin reincarnated and it takes everything not to initiate another round. 

“Come on lover boy,” she tugs him up pulling him up and zipping up his pants, then she moves him over to the sink washing her hands and making him do the same. Their eyes meet in the mirror and that’s when she sees much how debauched they truly look, when he turns to look at the hickey she sucked into his pale skin while trying to be quiet she finally feels the ability to be embarrassed returning. 

it’s huge and red, almost purple, covering the thick column of his throat and he winces when he rubs at it. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” She apologizes but its for naught because he grins at her proudly, “You were just claiming what’s yours.” 

His words light another fire under her skin and it’s only the pounding on the door that stops her from jumping him again. 

When they finally pull the door open, none other than a blanched face Ae-ram is on the other side. The woman looks shocked to see them both standing in front of her and the gears begin to slowly turn and a bright blush rushes up her unnaturally high cheekbones while color evacuates the rest of her face. 

“Are you serious?!” 

She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the woman’s snide remark, all eyes are on them as she walks over to the bar to grab her discarded purse and Vincenzo’s jacket, the bartender winks knowingly at them looking equal parts aroused and jealous and she chortles, winking back. 

He hands them two shots, “It’s on the house,” he looks them up and down languidly licking his lips and she slams back the bitter liquid before turning to Vincenzo, his lips are shiny and now wet under the bright lights. 

“Let’s get out of here.” She slams the shot glass on the counter, pulling him out the door. 

He hastily swallows his drink, letting her tug him out the door into the cool night air. 

“You didn’t let me answer you before, but me too.” 

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, the wind causing her to sober up and it takes a minute to understand what he’s talking about. She shifts awkwardly when she ultimately realizes nodding while looking away, their cab is three minutes away. 

“I love you too, Hong Cha- young.” 

As if she didn’t already know. It was too obvious after tonight. 

[fandomsonrequests]

fake dates for a real wedding

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: kang yeosang; ATEEZ

reader: fem!

word count: 3.5k+

summary: Initially, you thought it wouldn’t be hard to find a fake date for the wedding. You could just ask one of your friends. But it seemed like fate was punishing you for your impulsiveness because all the people you were supposed to ask were busy with work or had their own affairs to deal with. All except one— which landed you on where you were now: on Yeosang’s couch begging him to come as your plus one.

a/n: fake dating au, some cussing

Based off on the songs: nangangamba - zack tabudlo, pretend - bad suns, drive slow - addie

You whine when Yeosang lightly shakes you out of his grip, pushing you away from him on the couch. “But Sangie..! You’re the only one I trust.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you lied about your ‘relationship.’ Look where that’s landed you.” Your friend motions at you, eliciting another pleading whine from you. 

You see, this all started when your friend from high school was getting married. You weren’t super, super close but had a good friendship with each other. So when he invited you to his wedding, he asked if you had any plus one to bring along. You, not wanting to seem like a sad loner, panicked and said that you had a date to bring along. Your friend teased you for a moment, saying that he couldn’t wait to “meet the lucky person” before hanging you up and informing you that he’d send the invitation through an email. 

Initially, you thought it wouldn’t be hard to find a fake date for the day. You could just ask one of your friends. But it seemed like fate was punishing you for your impulsiveness because all the people you were supposed to ask were busy with work or had their own affairs to deal with. All except one— which landed you on where you were now: on Yeosang’s couch begging him to come as your plus one.

“You said you weren’t busy,” You pout and fold your arms like a petulant child. 

“Well I’m not, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to go and pretend to be your date.” He countered.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s lowkey weird..?” He suggests. In reality, it was because he had a massive crush on you. He had one since sophomore year of high school, he just couldn’t really bring himself to tell you then. He could probably tell you at this point in life but he wasn’t ready— not yet anyway. And he didn’t want to hurt himself by pretending to be your date during the wedding. Sure, it was a selfish move on his part, but he’s been hurt before. He didn’t want to be hurt again. Besides, you probably don’t see him as someone more than a friend just like in high school, and he’d rather not deal with the consequences of this seemingly one-sided love.

“It’s just for a day, pleeeaaasee,” you try again and put on your best puppy eyes.

The male sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist that, no matter how much he steeled his nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he weighed over his options, which wasn’t much, come to think of it. Maybe he could just indulge in this fantasy for a while, even if it didn’t last forever; at least he could have that luxury. With a final sigh for the umpteenth time this day, he agreed reluctantly.

“Fine,” he replied and you rejoiced. “You’re paying me though.”

Your cheery deposition drops and you blanch. “What?”

“I’m only kidding,” Yeosang adds before you could panic, the corner of his lips quirking up in an amused smile, showcasing some of his beautiful pearly whites.

You grumble, lightly swatting at his arm and he chuckled softly. You couldn’t help but drop your annoyed act and smile in return, glad that things were working out in your favor. You look down to bring out your phone so that you could explain the details to him, missing the way he looked at you fondly, eyes full of yearning for you.

“Since it’s a ‘summer wedding’ it’ll be by the beach. So that means we can wear light but business casual clothes.” You tell him and hand him the phone. 

Yeosang takes it from you, fingers faintly brushing against yours as he reads over the email. You note the way his brows lightly furrow together as he takes note of the invitation’s content. You also note a cute little quirk of his, the way his lips would part slightly or pout just a bit when he was concentrating. You blink away from your trance when you realized that you were staring. Since when were you fixated on the little things about him?

“Have you picked out what you’re going to wear?” He asks and hands the phone back to you. “Because if we’re going to go as a ‘couple,’ we’re going to have to match a little.”

“Oh wow, you’re really going all out with this.” You muse, a light blush coating your cheeks. 

“I mean it’s not a usual thing to pretend to be your best friend’s date to a wedding. Why not make the most of it?”

You smile at the thought. “Yeah, let’s make the most of it.”

The smell of the cool sea breeze fills your lungs as you step out of the car and onto the warm, concrete beside the boardwalk. The wind gently ruffles your hair and pale blue sundress, caressing your skin softly. A content smile makes its way to your face as you take in the warm sight of the waves rolling onto the beach in front of you before looking over to Yeosang. 

His round-rimmed spectacles sat atop of his cute nose, his honey skin seemingly glowing under the sunlight. The outfit he donned, which was a blue button-up top and some white pants, matched yours. He looks over to you with a curious raise of his brow to which you respond with a dorky smile and a shrug. You walk over to him and loop an arm around his. He welcomes the action, even briefly squeezing your hand before walking with you down to the beach where the wedding was to take place. 

“You remember the plan?” He adjusts your sun-hat to keep it from falling off your head.

You nod in response and try to keep your cool. It only dawned on you how nerve-wracking it could be to fake a relationship; you wondered how Yeosang managed to keep calm. “We met in our junior year of high school, messed around a bit in college before getting together just recently.”

The blonde hummed in approval. Actually, the story you conjured up wasn’t too fake; you two did somehow skirt around your feelings for each other in your freshman year of college before you both decided it was best to stop messing around and focus on your studies. It spared both of you the dramatics of the “what are we” phase and allowed you to keep track of your goals in life. The only thing that you lied about was you two being together. But given your history with each other, your friends wouldn’t really question the backstory too much. 

“______!” Your college friends call out to you when they spot you heading down the beach. 

You let out an excited noise, to which Yeosang couldn’t help but chuckle at, and ran out to meet them. They joined you halfway, the strongest of the whole group lifting you into a bone-crushing hug and giving you a small twirl. The blond watches from a respectable distance as you exchanged pleasantries with your friends, talking about what was new and how life was going, the usual stuff. 

The little group was currently caught up in a story when you looked over to Yeosang. He was dusting off the hat that fell off your head, shaking his head in amusement. You motion for him to come join you with a small nod of your head, holding your hand out to him. This doesn’t go unnoticed by one of your friends and she follows your line of sight. A pleasant gasp escaped her lips when she saw him approach the group. 

“Well look who’s here,” She muses, taking note of the way he settled behind you and placed the hat back onto your head. 

“Oh, Yeosang you’re here!” Another friend greets. “Were you invited?”

The said man shook his head, a subtle but charming smile on his beautiful lips. “I just came here with _____.”

The group looks to you expectantly and you simply smile at them, a faint blush on your cheeks. “He’s my plus one.”

Small cheers and whistles erupted from the group, furthering the blush on your cheeks. Even Yeosang’s complexion grew a little rosier at their teasing. One of your friends slings an arm around your shoulder and smirks. “So, are you two a thing or just playing around?”

“We just got together recently. We’re taking this seriously.” You answer, trying not to stammer. 

Another round of cheers.

“That’s great. It's about time you two became a thing.” Your friend pipes up. “It was painful seeing you two pine after each other during freshman year and then just drop it like that.”

“Yeah, I lost 20 bucks because of that.” Another friend sighed, reminiscing the bet they had lost. 

The conversation eventually shifted onto other things, surprising you at how well they received the news. You relaxed a bit more at that, the nerves and anxiousness of pretending melting away as the day goes on. But a small thought lingered at the back of your head; you wondered how things would turn out if you did act on your feelings then. Back then, you weren’t so sure if it was genuine affection that you felt towards Yeosang or just pure infatuation. But now that your friends had cleared up a few things and that you could think more maturely, you realized that maybe… maybe you really did like him.

More guests soon poured in and people started to usher you towards the seats. Before you could though, Yeosang stops you by the shoulder. “Save me a seat, please. I’ll just place the gift on the table.” 

“Don’t take too long.” You reply and head over to a seat near the front. You place your hat down on the chair to your right while your friend from earlier takes a seat on your left. You smile at her, linking your hand with hers and giving it a small squeeze. 

“Hey Bora.”

“Hey, ____. Where's the loverboy?” She nudged your shoulder.

“He’s just placing the gifts down.”

She hums in acknowledgment, nodding her head along. “Since you and Kang are like, a thing now— I’m assuming he’s told you about his crush on you?”

“Uh Yeah. I mean, that kind of led to why we’re together now.” You play along, not knowing that your friend was being serious. 

“That’s great. The guy’s been whipped for you for ages. I think since sophomore or junior year in high school? Hasn’t stopped thinking of you since.” Bora muses and crosses her arms over her chest, looking over to the groom who was taking his place at the front. 

You on the other hand was surprised to hear what she had said. It was written all over your face no matter how hard you tried. Your friend, ever observant, sees this and guffaws. “Wait, he's never told you?” 

“I, I mean I thought like, he liked me in college. I didn’t know it’s been that long.” You stutter.

She shakes her head in disbelief, chuckling softly. “Wow… you two are really hopeless huh…” She pats the back of your hand when she sees Yeosang approach. 

You look over your shoulder to see the blond slide into the seat you save him. “Thanks,” he tells you, briefly patting your knee. 

You could only nod and smile in response, still trying to process what your friend had abruptly told you. Butterflies filled your stomach at the thought that he had liked you for so long, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but berate yourself for being so oblivious to it. Had he even dropped hints before? Come to think of it, he probably has but you most likely brushed it off as a friendly act. 

You look up at Yeosang again, as if looking at him would help you bring your thoughts together. He surprises you when he turns to you, raising a brow curiously. Your cheeks flush out of embarrassment and look away, clearing your throat to play it off. You pick up an amused sort of huff from the man beside you and if you hadn’t turned away, you would’ve seen the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

The music is light and upbeat as it plays throughout the wedding-reception area. Soft waves roll onto the shore, eliciting some giggles from the few children that were brought by their parents. The sun starts to set, painting the sky in warm hues of gold, orange, and lavender. And if you listen closely, you could hear the faint sounds of cicadas warming up. Guests enjoy the food being served to them while some hit the sandy dance floor. The newlyweds of the hour were going around and greeting their friends and family, making some small talk here and there before moving onto the next people. 

You had already exchanged pleasantries with them, the groom being delightfully surprised that it was Yeosang who was your plus one. The two weren’t close, but you could tell that they respected each other. As you wave goodbye to the couple, you turn to the blond with your signature dorky smile. 

“What?” He muses, taking your hand in his and rubbing the soft skin of your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Nothing,” You hum and sigh blissfully. 

“That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’” He gently nudged your shoulder. 

You sigh again and cross your arms over your chest. “It’s just me being all emotional and sappy.”

The music from the nearby stereo shifts into something slow but no less upbeat, perfect for just swaying to the beat. Your expression changes into something more optimistic and an idea crosses your head. You beam up at Yeosang and start skipping towards the dance floor, tugging along at his hand. 

Of course, he was reluctant at first. But after some coaxing and your signature puppy eyes, he caves in and joins you. He could feel his heart beat rapidly against his chest as he pulled you close, both arms slung around your waist. He was glad that you weren’t holding hands because the minute you put your arms around his shoulders, he felt his palms grow clammy. He was also thankful for the fact that you weren’t so flush against each other, or else you’d have surely felt the way his heart rate sped up at the proximity between you two. You felt the same, thinking carefully about how to play out your idea; that is, to ask him about how he felt for you then and to just come clean to him now.  

It was a bit silent and awkward for the first few notes of the song, the both of you avoiding each other’s gaze and shyly swaying to the melody. After a while though, you eventually settle into a more comfortable but quiet atmosphere; it was just two friends dancing together.

“So…” You start, shifting a little closer.

“So…” Yeosang parrots and holds you a little tighter. 

“Would you have a beach wedding if ever you’d get married?”

The blond gets a little thrown off from your question, not expecting that you’d ask that, but thinks of an answer anyway. He hums to himself, contemplating the answer. “Not really— but outdoor weddings don’t sound too bad.”

You simply nod in response and the both of you lapse into silence again. You think of asking another question but that would be skirting around the whole situation again. You could see your friends looking at the two of you fondly from the corner of your eye, giggling to themselves. You decide then and there that the best course of action was to be straightforward.

The song shifts into something a little slower, perfect for actual slow-dancing. You take a deep breath and look straight into Yeosang’s warm brown eyes. “I have something to tell you…” 

He stiffens a little at that, his heartbeat picking up once again. He readjusts his hold on you, nodding his head for you to continue. 

“So… a little bird told me about your crush on me since high school.” 

Yeosang’s eyes widened at that and his grip on you tightened. He looks away from you, staring down at his feet as a massive blush covers his face and ears. You couldn’t help but smile softly at that but you didn’t want to be an asshole and push him to explain himself. Instead you gently lift your hand to cup his cheek, making him look up at you with nervous eyes. 

He swallows down his anxiousness and reaches up to take your hand on his cheek. “Did Bora tell you this..?” He teases lightly, mostly to not make things so awkward again. 

You giggle and nod your head. He smiles a little, still a bit nervous but smiles nonetheless. A shaky sigh escapes him and he squeezes your hand, linking his fingers with yours. “...well, she’s not wrong,” He whispers. 

This wasn’t the way he wanted to tell you about how he felt about you but it was now or never— especially since the secret was out in the open. 

“______, it’s probably selfish of me to say but, I still like you. Like, really like you. That was why I said no when you asked me to come with me as your ‘date’ here to the wedding, because I just didn’t want to pretend. I wanted us to be the real thing. I wanted to embrace you without thinking it’s too weird or kiss you without things being awkward for us after.” 

Yeosang takes a deep breath and meets your gaze firmly. “I wanted to tell you that I loved you without feeling hopeless after.” 

You were stunned into silence at his confession, not expecting him to put out all his feelings like that. You blink slowly and try to process his words. Yeosang must have interpreted your silence as some form of rejection and he starts to let go of you, but you instinctively gripped him and pulled him closer before he could.

He looks down at you and you see the vulnerability behind his gaze. You, on the other hand, soften yours. “First of all, I want to apologize for how selfish of me it was to ask you to come as a fake date,” you say, eliciting an amused snort from the other. “Second of all… I’m… thank you for telling me this. It makes it a lot easier.”

“Easier for what..?”

“You know how back then when we messed around and stuff? I did actually like you too but… I wasn’t brave enough to tell you then and just fell back to what we had.” You bring his hand up to your lips and lay a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “But now that we’ve come clean to each other, it makes it easier for me to tell you that I like you too.”

Yeosang breaks into a smile at that, relief crashing down on him. He couldn’t help himself when he brushes some stray hair away from your flushed face, eyes flitting to your lips. His palm was warm against your skin and you leaned into his touch, closing whatever space was left between you two. Yeosang’s thumb runs over your lip, several thoughts running through his head, one of them is how your lips would feel like against his.

“Can I kiss you..?” He whispers. You nod, already gravitating towards him. 

Yeosang leans in, both hands cupping at your cheek, and you meet him halfway. The kiss didn’t feel like butterflies or fireworks. It was more like a wall finally being torn down after several years of helpless pining and lingering glances at one another. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, pleasant butterflies tickling your stomach. Yeosang does the same and eventually leads to you two bumping against each other's teeth.

“Ow—“ You pull away laughing. 

“Sorry about that,” He kisses your nose and leans his forehead against yours. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll live.” You hum. 

You two had eventually pulled away from each other and headed back to your table where your friend group was waiting. They cheered at the both of you, joking about how you two were trying to steal the romantic spotlight from the newlyweds, which led to some banter and teasing. You two didn’t mind though, it actually felt kind of nice. 

The night goes on and the wedding comes to a close. The newlyweds still had an after-wedding party at a nearby club for the legal-aged guests, but you and Yeosang decided to pass on that, congratulating them once again before heading back to the car, ready to end the day. 

As you and Yeosang walk along the sand, the moon hovering in the dark sky and the night breeze tickling your skin, you couldn’t help but smile. You squeeze Yeosang’s hand and looped your arm with his, leaning your head against his shoulder. He kisses your temple and whispers sweet nothings into your hair.

Who would’ve thought that a wedding invitation and a fake date ploy was what you two needed to get together? It’s a silly kind of story to tell to others, eventually, you’d have to come clean to the others, but it was no less special. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Roommates - Theo x Reader

(gif source)

Summary: y/n’s landlord is increasing her rent once her lease is up. She has two options: move out or find a roommate. Theo, coincidentally, is looking for a new apartment.

Word count: 2105

Warnings: cursing, theo being a total house husband

a/n: and they were roommates

master list

“So then he finds out that Leia is his sister and- y/n, are you even listening?” Stiles cut himself off and looked over to where the y/h/c was nervously bouncing her leg. y/n’s head snapped up when she heard her name, nearly dropping her phone in the process.

“Uh, yeah, of course! I just um, keep going, I’m listening,” she replied unconvincingly. Her odd behavior caught the attention of the rest of the pack - not that they were really paying much attention to Stiles’s retelling of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi - causing the previous conversation to be forgotten.

“Okay, spill. There’s a handful of mostly human polygraphs in here and you’re a terrible liar. What’s up?” Malia grilled, looking at y/n expectantly. 

“It’s really nothing, everything’s fine,” y/n squeaked out, her ability to lie getting worse and worse with each word. After receiving another pointed look from Malia, she finally cracked. “Ugh, fine. I just got an email from my landlord that he’s bumping up the rent when my lease is up and I can’t afford to stay there by myself anymore,” y/n ranted. The group, minus y/n, glanced around at each other with frowns. Each and every one of them would drop everything to help y/n, but it just so happened that they were all already stuck in leases or didn’t have any extra rooms at their homes. After a few moments of silence, Theo piped up.

“I could be your roommate and split the rent if you want,” he offered nonchalantly. Stiles looked between Theo and y/n as if they’d both grown two heads. Before y/n could decline the offer, Theo continued. “My lease is almost up and your place is much nicer anyways. It’s a win win,” Theo pointed out casually and leaned back deeper into the cushions. 

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment as y/n mulled it over. It wasn’t a horrible idea. Having a chimera as a roommate was basically like having a top-of-the-line security system. Plus, between being a full-time student and working part-time, y/n was hardly home so it didn’t really matter who her roommate was, just as long as they did their fair share of chores.

“Sure, why not,” y/n replied warmly.

It had been about a month since Theo moved in. Aside from sleeping, y/n had spent very little time at their now shared apartment. If she wasn’t at school or working, she was spending time with the pack, which felt like a full time job in and of itself. Too bad they weren’t getting paid to keep the whole damn city safe. For what felt like the first time in months, y/n finally had an entire weekend off. No looming deadlines from her classes. No long and grueling shifts for work. No supernatural threats. 

When she got home that Friday night she dropped her purse by the door, toed her shoes off halfway through the room, and unceremoniously flopped down onto the couch, sighing loudly as she did so. 

“Well hello to you too,” Theo called as he entered the room stealthily. y/n jumped, startled by his presence.

“Jesus, I didn’t even know you were home. What are you, a ninja?” y/n asked, chest heaving slightly.

“Something like that,” Theo smirked, earning an unimpressed eye-roll from y/n. Theo moved to sit down on the couch next to her, making sure to leave a respectful distance between their bodies, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “So, you’ve been busy,” Theo began, striking up a light conversation. y/n snorted and leaned her head back into the cushions.

“You’ve got that right,” y/n groaned, running a hand through her tousled hair. The last thing y/n expected when Theo moved in was for him to be willing to hear her vent about school and work, but he actually seemed to enjoy the conversation and company. She told him about her lazy group project members and the sleazy old men who came to the diner she waitressed at. She told him how poetic justice had been served when one particularly disgruntled customer slipped and fell on the drink that he’d intentionally spilled when a waitress wouldn’t give him her number. Theo actually laughed in response to that story, his gleeful chuckle brought a warm smile to y/n’s face. 

“I didn’t mean to unload on you, thanks for listening though,” y/n finished shyly. Theo brushed off her comment.

“That was entertaining, thank you,” Theo replied with his signature grin. y/n felt heat rise to her cheeks but turned away before Theo could notice.

“Anyways… as much as I’d love to not move from this couch for the next 48 hours, I should probably clean up a bit. I’ve been a pretty shitty roommate,” y/n grimaced as she forced herself off of the couch. Theo gave her a puzzled look and patted the spot next to him on the couch, rolling his eyes when she seemed unwilling to sit back down.

“You’ve hardly been here since I moved in. I don’t think you’ve eaten a meal here, much less made a mess. Except for maybe your shoes in the middle of the floor,” he pointed out, gesturing towards her anti-slip waitressing sneakers. y/n’s face continued to burn as she moved to kick the shoes towards the shoe rack by the door. Naturally, she turned to sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

“What shoes? I don’t see any shoes,” y/n quipped slyly, waltzing back across the room to once again sink into the couch. Theo chuckled wordlessly at her antics and tore his eyes away from her to look at the TV.

“Friends or The Office?”

As luck would have it, y/n’s free weekend was short lived and the following Monday she was back to her never ending stream of school work and back-to-back work shifts. Fortunately, she was able to run home during her lunch break and wisely chose to use the time for a well-deserved nap. As she pulled out her keys to open the apartment door, she heard mechanical humming coming from inside. Truth be told, she had yet to figure out what kind of roommate Theo was, much less come close to understanding the walking enigma, so she had no idea what she was about to walk into. Was he building something? Did he figure out a way to bring the dread doctors back? Was he doing something unspeakable with a lady friend that would surely scar y/n for years to come?

As y/n mentally prepared herself for the horror movie that she was expecting to walk into, she inserted her keys in the lock. I need a fucking nap, whatever weird shit going on behind this door be damned. She pushed the door open with tense shoulders and hesitantly peered into the apartment. There stood Theo. Not holding any tools, not actively in cahoots with the nightmarish scientists that occupied part of their high school days, and (thank God) fully clothed...

But vacuuming.

Her murderous, half-human, former dirt bag roommate was vacuuming. Like a bona fide house husband. 

Theo heard the door softly close shut behind y/n and he turned to face her, unplugging the vacuum machine in the process.

“What’s with all of this?” y/n asked hesitantly, gesturing vaguely to the vacuum cleaner and the various cleaning supplies set out on the coffee table. Theo glanced at the area around him, proud of his work.

“I had some time to kill so I figured I’d clean up a bit. I’m pretty much done now so I shouldn’t bother you if you’re studying or…” he trailed off, giving y/n an opportunity to fill in the blank.

“Ha, I probably should, but no. I will be dead asleep for the next thirty minutes and then I have to head to the diner for a double shift,” she groaned and shrugged off her jacket as she made her way towards her room. Considering the fact that it was only noon on a Monday, y/n seemed far too tired. Theo frowned for a moment and genuinely considered going to have nice civilized chats with her manager and professors. That’s probably a bad idea though. Unless...

For some reason unbeknownst to y/n, her professors had begun to show some mercy in the number of papers and projects they assigned. Her manager at the diner even offered to decrease the hours she worked each week if she was feeling overwhelmed. Theo wore a knowing grin when a joyful y/n came home one day and explained this all to him. If y/n caught his mischievous smirk, she certainly didn’t call him out on it. With all of her newfound free time, y/n decided that she wanted to host a pack movie night at their apartment.

“Alright, the pizza is on the way and Scott is bringing snacks. We should probably get the movie set up before Stiles gets here and somehow convinces us all to watch Star Wars again,” y/n rattled off while she paced the apartment to make sure everything was in order. “I washed a bunch of blankets earlier, could you take them out of the dryer and put them on the couch?” y/n requested as she anxiously walked to the kitchen and began pulling out plates and cups. Theo nodded gently as he popped into the kitchen to check things out.

“Don’t stress too much. As long as there’s people and pizza, everyone will be happy,” Theo said, attempting to ease her anxiety. y/n smiled lightly at his words and took a deep breath. Lately he seemed to have some magical ability to calm her down. Theo left the kitchen to take care of the blankets while y/n put together a makeshift snack bar, complete with plates, bowls for snacks, and beer. The pizza and most of the pack arrived just as y/n and Theo were finishing up with their respective jobs. The pizza delivery boy seemed a little scared by the tall, muscled men and tiny but mighty women surrounding him so she gave him a decent tip and rolled her eyes at her friends’ naturally intimidating nature. After y/n ushered them all inside and set the pizza down on the kitchen counter, she joined the rest of the pack in the living room. To her surprise, the blankets had been neatly set out around the room and folded with expert precision. She sent Theo an impressed smile and winked when she thought no one was looking.

Stiles was the last to arrive and much to his disappointment Ghostbusters had already been set up on the TV. It didn’t take long for everyone to grab food and get situated around the living room, so by the time y/n was done buzzing around the apartment like a madwoman to get everything situated there was only one spot left on the couch. y/n knew that her friends - aside from Stiles - weren’t actively trying to hurt Theo’s feelings, but seeing him tucked into the corner of the couch distanced away from everyone pained her more than she’d admit.

So, she did what any good friend would do. Not only did she gladly take the spot on the couch next to him, but she also casually tossed her legs over his and covered the two of them with a blanket. The action definitely earned her a few raised eyebrows, including from Theo, but no one dared to call them out. y/n was able to easily ignore the sideways glances they earned throughout the course of the movie, mostly because she had fallen asleep about 15 minutes in. By the end of the movie her head had fallen to lazily rest on Theo's shoulder and he had subconsciously pulled her in closer to his side.

After the movie finished and they spent some time catching up, the rest of the pack began to trickle out of y/n and Theo’s apartment. Lydia was the last to leave so she offered to lock the door behind her so that Theo wouldn’t have to move and wake y/n. Lydia tossed out a few stray cups on her way out the door, and because she was never one to tell secrets, she definitely didn’t send the girls a picture of Theo and y/n now both passed out and cuddling on the couch.

a/n: this seemed like a great idea in the shower and now i’m not sure i even like it but i hope you enjoyed :)

edit: enjoy my best friend’s live reaction to this fic

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[floralseokjin]

The Zoom Halloween Party

⇢ and beyond timeline (after crystallised)

[saga index] [drabble index]

 kim seokjin x reader // slice of life, humour // 2,556 words  

a/n; thank you to all the anons who gave me ideas for this halloween drabble, it wouldn’t exist without you! 

“I have to say your costumes are pretty lame this year, you guys.”

“We’re having a Halloween party over fucking zoom, forgive us for not going all out.” 

Seokjin bit straight away, unable to help it. He and Namjoon were like cat and mouse at all times, but even you had to admit to being offended by your friend’s dismissal. 

Halloween was finally here, and while you couldn’t celebrate in person together, the marvels of technology were letting you celebrate virtually – although this was more like a Halloween hang out than a Halloween party. 

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon shrugged. “Hoseok went all out for his.” 

You looked over at Hoseok’s screen, watching him smile smugly. You had to admit he made a great Joker, but it was also the year 2020... He and his girlfriend, Nora were like two years behind with the whole Joker and Harley Quinn gimmick, it was old now. 

Seokjin rolled his eyes, willing to argue black and blue. “It’s only good because his mom helped him with the makeup.” 

“Oh shut up, you’re just jealous because me and Hoseok will win best dressed tonight!” Nora scoffed under Hoseok in her own little screen. 

Pouting like a baby, your boyfriend crossed his arms. “I’m not voting for you.” 

“If anything, I should win. I make a mighty fine Batman.” 

Attention back on Namjoon now, you all had to agree. But maybe that was because everyone was feeling sorry for him tonight. He was after all, the only single one amongst you. There was Jin and you, Lina and Jimin, Hoseok and Nora, and even though Sandeul was on his own tonight, he had Jess, who was working the night shift tonight. Two months ago there had also been Namjoon and Hana, but not anymore... Let’s just say Namjoon wasn’t having the best of time lately... Getting dumped during a pandemic wasn’t ideal. So he’d paired with Hobi and Nora tonight in some sort of DC-esque collab. He was definitely winning best dressed tonight, but maybe he’d see it as a pity vote… 

“You’re body looks amazing in that suit, Joon,” you complimented, hearing Lina hum in supportive agreement. 

“Hey!” Seokjin exclaimed, sounding mighty offended as he looked your way. You were smushed together on the couch, the takeout you’d ordered on your laps, but you were pretty full now, a belly full of wine already. 

“The devil and an angel though.” Jimin’s voice sounded awfully judgemental. “Come on guys, so basic.” 

“Well, who the hell did you to come as?” Seokjin was loud. 

“Zombie Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly,” Lina replied as if your boyfriend was dumb. 

“Lame,” Seokjin scoffed. “Half of these guys haven’t even watched The Office.” 

“It’s a way more original idea than yours.”

You scoffed. “Um, this is the epitome of everyone’s sexual fantasy, I’ll have you know.” 

“Whose?!” Lina roared, wrinkling her nose. She and Jimin were also squished together, but on his bed, the camera angle giving you an amazing shot of their chins... Not that you would tell your best friend that, of course. 

“We all know what they’re doing after this then,” Sanduel stated. He was dressed as some character from a game he and Seokjin played (a lot.) Nerds.  

“Stop,” Hoseok whined. “Does that mean you guys fucked as The Addams family couple last year?”

“Of course it does,” Namjoon replied matter-of-factly. 

“Jesus.” 

Ah yes, you two really had out done yourselves last year for Namjoon and Hoseok’s joint Halloween party. Thinking about it maybe your devil and angel costumes were quite lame this year…

“As if you didn’t guess,” Lina laughed. “They were reciting all those weird lines practically dry humping in the kitchen at one point.” 

That was your cue, slamming into action, although as luck would have it you had re-watched The Addams Family two nights ago. You gripped Seokjin’s face, yanking him to look at you. “Seokjin, last night you were unhinged.” You began dramatically. “You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me.” A pause for effect. “Do it again!” 

Seokjin took your hand, in character immediately. He leaned down to kiss your knuckles. “Cara mia.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to purr out mon cher in your best French accent but you were interrupted by Namjoon’s gagging noises. “That’s it, I’m leaving.” 

Seokjin snapped his head around, unamused. “Bye.” 

Everyone laughed… just before Hoseok sighed. “Aw, this makes me so depressed. I miss last year, when things were simpler.” 

“This was the worst year to officially become an adult.” Nora joined in with a whine. 

They were 100% correct. There couldn’t have been a worse year to graduate… The past few months had been so stressful but thankfully you were now in a much more stable place. Granted, you hadn’t been able to start the post-graduate internship you’d bagged right before the pandemic hit yet but eventually it would happen, and in the meantime you still had your retail job – and your savings. 

Seokjin had truly lucked out, although his job at his father’s company had been set in stone since high school. He was working remotely until the end of the year (hopefully), rocking that business on top, casual down bottom fashion that he was so gleefully fond of – think a dress shirt and sweatpants ensemble – but you were so incredibly proud of him for adjusting so well after this shitfest of a year. He was your sexy, serious businessman. 

Your friends hadn’t been as lucky though – well, mainly Hoseok and Namjoon who had recently moved back home with their parents while they job hunted. (That’s why the former and Nora were on separate screens – she still lived close by for work.) Lina hated her new job and Jimin still had a year left at college, so maybe he was better off at the moment... Sanduel and Jess were okay too, and had recently moved in with one another, leaving you and Seokjin to… follow suit… 

It came as a surprise to you both, but it made more sense than the two of you living alone. You’d already grown used to it during those couple of months of lockdown at the start of the year and it felt weird after he’d left... It was a big step, but an easy one once you’d found the most perfect apartment to rent together. (You couldn’t officially live with one another in that shoebox of an old apartment, but it had been sad to leave it – you’d shared so many good times there.) It had only been about six weeks since you’d become official roomies, but you were loving every second of domestic bliss. Despite this crazy year, things were on the up, and you were very happy. 

“Now we’re freshly graduated bums.” Namjoon moaned, knocking back the last of his beer.

Seokjin laughed. “Speak for yourself.” 

“We can’t all have a CEO for a dad,” Namjoon shot. 

“That sounds like a you problem.” 

You pushed at your boyfriend’s shoulder, silently telling him to behave. Where was the sympathy for his heartbroken friend?

“At least you’re not stuck doing online classes.” Jimin piped up. 

“I’d actually kill to be back there,” Namjoon chuckled. “I’m sick of receiving rejection emails.” 

“Don’t give up hope, bro.” Hoseok told him. “I have an interview next week so fingers crossed.” 

Nora squealed. “I hope you get it, babe. You need to get your ass back here. I miss you.” 

You all missed him. And Namjoon. Even if you couldn’t all hang out like you were once able to, it was strange to think they were both living in different cities now. Last year seemed like an eternity ago, all you had were memories and even then they were murky. 

“Guys, please,” Namjoon wailed, forehead hitting the screen as he threw forward dramatically. “One of us is single here.” 

“Sorry.” 

In fact, you all felt the need to apologise, a string of them following for no real reason other than you felt really bad for the guy. You knew he’d find a job soon, that wasn’t the problem really – whatever the company they’d be a fool to turn him down – you were just concerned about his mood. Getting dumped had come out of the blue so he was still adjusting, all while his life turned upside down in other ways too. 

He hadn’t lost all sense of humour though, his trademark smirk growing across his face a few moments later. “So who will end up fucking on camera first?” 

Amongst the groans, Sanduel scoffed. “Probably Mr and Mrs. Devil.” 

“I’m an angel,” you corrected, a glass of wine back in your hand now. “Also, why would we fuck on camera? You guys don’t deserve the show.” 

“God, you’re so drunk,” Lina screeched. She wasn’t exactly sober herself. Beside her Jimin winced at the volume. 

“Of course I’m drunk, Lina, this is the first proper chance I’ve had in months.” Getting drunk alone was pretty miserable, now you had an excuse. 

“So it’s definitely them who’ll start fucking first…” Hoseok muttered. 

Seokjin heard him loud and clear though. He hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. “Yeah if we leave randomly you know this angel got horny for some devil dick.” 

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed, pushing at his chest. He just laughed, reaching down to kiss you. 

He did look mighty fine dressed as a devil though. Yeah, the red cape was basic but so were your angel wings and halo, but with his dark hair pushed back above his forehead, two red devil horns visible and his eyeshadow off the scale (your doing), he made a very, very sexy Satan! 

Jimin pulled a face. “You’re actually going to fuck in those costumes, aren’t you?” 

“Of course we are.” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what Halloween’s all about.” 

“No, it’s not,” Nora laughed. 

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” Sandeul sighed before shovelling down some candy corn. 

“You know them better than anyone,” Namjoon chuckled. 

“I was the first to know! Sworn to secrecy for weeks!”

“Yeah, and she didn’t tell me for so long,” Lina whined. Even though it was ages ago now you were still pretty sure she was salty about it. 

Hoseok snickered. “It was because she was embarrassed to be fucking him.” 

You scoffed, about to refute his claims but Sanduel had more to say apparently. “And then I had to deal with Jin moping around when she dumped him for that basketball player.” 

“She didn’t dump me,” Seokjin protested. “We won’t together then.” 

“Bro, you were still moping though.” 

“Awh, you guys,” you whined, running your fingers through the hair on the back of Seokjin’s head. “Stop teasing him.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek but he moved, stealing one from your lips instead. 

“Great Deul, you’ve started them off again.” Hoseok moaned. 

“I don’t care anyway. The amount of times I’ve heard them going at it has made me immune.” 

“Sanduel, we’re not that bad!” You complained, leaning forward to place your glass down on the coffee table. 

Seokjin had your back. “As if we haven’t heard you and Jess fuck before.” 

That however was not at all interesting to your friends though. They blatantly ignored it for a more interesting direction of topic.  

“Did you ever catch them?” Jimin asked, sounding weirdly excited. 

“No actually, which is baffling.” 

“You nearly did – multiple times,” Seokjin informed him, which instantly turned Sanduel grey. Not bothered, my ass. 

“Why are you guys so obsessed with our sex life?” You whined loudly. Was theirs that boring? 

“Ooo, let’s play a game!!” Lina exploded suddenly, sitting up, her head now cut off from the screen. “Who’s the freakiest!!!” 

Seokjin turned to you gleefully. “We got this in the bag, babe.” 

In your eyes, the questions were quite tame, so yes, you and Seokjin really were scoring first place left and right. Although you had a hunch Lina was holding back information. As her best friend you knew what she was like and she was being awfully quiet for someone who’d suggested the game… 

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever boned?” Nora asked, six questions in. 

Seokjin didn’t even need a second. “Namjoon’s bedroom.” Your eyes bulged immediately, surprised he’d gone there. 

“What?” Namjoon choked. 

“Sorry, man. It just kinda happened.” Seokjin glanced at you, deeply amused. Poor Namjoon didn’t need more bad news. 

“You guys have fucked in my bedroom?” 

“Well, technically it’s not your bedroom anymore, but yeah,” you shrugged.  

“When?” 

The third degree was real. “A while back.”  

“What the fuck you guys,” he groaned, his face a picture. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Lina couldn’t help but add. 

“You, be quiet!” You warned, although you knew she wouldn’t spill. Your secret was safe with her. 

Namjoon was looking more and more scared by the second. “What the fuck did you guys do in there?” Seokjin just laughed loudly. “Did you at least clean up?” He got no reply. He was deadly serious with his next question. “Did you make Ryan watch?” 

“Namjoon!” Seokjin cried, practically wiping tears from your eyes. Maybe he was more drunk than you… You hadn’t realised. “He’s a stuffed animal.” 

“That plush is all I have now.” 

“Pity, the guy’s recently been dumped. This is bullying,” Hoseok interrupted, sticking up for his friend. 

“It’s not,” your boyfriend insisted. 

“Aw, Namjoon, I’m sorry,” you apologised, feeling guilty now. How could you make it up to him? “When all this is over you can come over and fuck someone in our bedroom.” 

“What,” Seokjin protested. You ignored him. 

“Who though?” Namjoon asked, sounding sad. 

“You’ll meet someone new soon enough.” Lina reassured him. “You’re any girls dream guy.”  

He perked up at that. “You think so?”

“Legit, man,” Jimin joined in. 

“Wait,” Sandeul interrupted, seemingly realising something. “Is the costume roleplay exclusive to Halloween?” 

… Of course the conversation was back on you and Jin…

“Why?” You asked. 

“Because Namjoon had a fancy dress party for his birthday last year…” 

Seokjin shrugged. “Any celebration.” 

Sanduel instantly looked disgusted. “So you guys fucked as The Incredibles couple?” 

You and Seokjin didn’t reply, but your faces said it all. 

Namjoon groaned loudly. “I want to scoop my brain out.” Then he thought of something. “Was it in my bedroom?” 

“Noooo!” 

“Yes.” 

You both replied at the same time and you pushed Seokjin. Now he was just purposely teasing his friend. 

“Who’s lying?” Namjoon demanded, but Sanduel was too busy going through it, distracting you all. 

“The Incredibles is my favourite childhood movie, man, now I feel gross. I can’t watch it ever again because I’ll imagine you two trying to superhero fuck.” 

Your friends were way too dramatic. It wasn’t even a big deal, they were making it out to be way kinkier than it was, and Seokjin wasn’t helping matters. You were literally just having normal sex dressed up. That’s all. 

“This game has taught me I’m best friends with a bunch of vanilla ice creams,” Seokjin tutted. “It’s called having fun. Something you guys can’t seem to do.” 

“You all suck!” You agreed. 

Hm, maybe you were just as guilty as your boyfriend… It was just too damn amusing goading your friends… 

[stiles-halee]

Kinkmas Day 5: Phone Sex

Stiles was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or maybe throw up and then pass out. Or maybe pass out as he was throwing up.

It wasn't an instant regret, he didn't know what he had just done. It took a few minutes and Stiles' impatience, for him to come to the conclusion as to what he had just done.

Usually the guy he had been texting, Brett, texted him right back, especially after the kind of text Stiles had just sent him. The naked kind of text.

But he hadn't answered for about ten minutes, strange for him. Stiles knew he didn't have work, it came up in casual conversation (which they didn't have very often) that Brett's only day off was Tuesday's.

Brett and Stiles had been hooking up for about a month now, completely casual and just for fun. They had met before at a couple lacrosse games, and rekindled over some stupid gay hookup app. Stiles swore he was going to delete it the day after he created it, but awoke to a message in the app.

The rest was sort of history, sweaty, hot, history.

They always hooked up on Tuesdays, and oftentimes liked to send the hint of wanting to hook up with a provocative picture. But Brett hadn't responded.

Stiles huffed out a breath, taking a seat on the couch and pulling out his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it and immediately went to his text messages, checking the most recent one he sent, the one to Brett, only to find it wasn't there.

At the top of the most recent messages was Derek's name. That's weird, he must have missed a text from him. Squinting in confusion, Stiles opened up the chat, only to go pale. Oh. My. God.

There on his phone was a picture of Stiles. A naked picture of Stiles. A naked picture of Stiles that he had sent to Derek, not to Brett. Holy mother of God.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Stiles chanted, leaning forward and trying not to throw up.

"Oh my God." He threw his phone beside him on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He and Derek hadn't talked in weeks. Sure, the brooding wolf had very slightly opened up to the rest of the pack, but not necessarily to Stiles. They nodded to each other at weekly pack meetings (Scott's suggestion to try and keep them all close for now, as was the summer before they all started college, everyone was prepared to go their separate ways, to get out of this town), but never talked.

Stiles' face burned red with embarrassment, he would never be able to face the man again, not as long as he lived. He shook his head in his hands. At least he never really had to see him again. I mean, in less than a month, he would be at Stanford. Sure he was still in California, but he was hours away from Beacon Hills, hours away from Derek.

He was still deep in thought, feeling sick to his stomach when his phone buzzed on the opposite side of the couch. Oh dear God. Had Derek responded? He couldn't look.

He stared at his hands, worrying his lip between his teeth. He couldn't look. He had to look.

He lunged at his phone, grabbing it quickly. How Derek chose to respond didn't really matter, he was never going to see the man again, not after something like that. Consider his summer over. The last three pack meetings were cancelled, as far as Stiles was concerned.

With trembling fingers, Stiles unlocked his phone, staring at the home screen. He had a message from Derek, big surprise. He wondered for a moment how Derek would respond. Maybe he would type angrily in all caps, or send a puking emoji, maybe he would threaten to send it to someone.

Ears burning like fire, Stiles opened up the message and slightly relaxed.

I don't think you meant to send that to me.

What a mundane response. Normal, appropriate, simple. Stiles had never been more thankful for the man of few words. That could have been so much worse.

Stiles shook his head, taking in a deep breath. It was fine, it would be fine. A simple mistake, really. He would profusely apologize, move to Stanford, and never see Derek again. Life would go on. It was fine.

His phone buzzed again, breaking him from his thoughts. On instinct, he looked down again at his phone and then froze.

But I like what I see.

Oh my God. Stiles blinked several times, rereading the latest text several times. He double-no, triple, checked that it was from Derek.

But I like what I see.

Now it was Stiles turn to stare at the unexpected text message he had just received, confused and embarrassed still. How was he supposed to respond to that? I mean, he shouldn't ignore that right? It certainly wasn't the response he expected but it also didn't bother him.

Blood pooled at his groin at the thought of Derek seeing that picture, at Derek liking it.

Was this seriously his life, was this seriously happening right now?

Stiles bit his lip again, typing and erasing each message he tried to prepare. He had no words for that, no words could describe how he was feeling, because he didn't even know how he was feeling. Even so, he felt as though he had to say something. Besides, they both had their read receipts on, Derek would know Stiles had read his messages.

Sorry.

Before Stiles could psych himself out, he sent it. One word, an apology for the accidental text, so Derek would know it indeed was not meant for him. Maybe they would be able to forget about it, move on, maybe Stiles wouldn't have to hide at Stanford for the rest of his life, but for now, that was still the plan.  

Don't be.

Fuck, what did that mean? Derek had to be joking, he had to be. There was no way that Derek actually liked that photo, no way. Derek, the guy who shoved him around and shot him glares. Sure Peter joked about the sexual tension in the room but that wasn't sexual tension that was just. . . Derek's hatred for Stiles. Just regular ole tension

Stiles huffed out a sigh, heading to his room. He put the phone on the charger, determined to sleep and forget about this night. Maybe it was all just a dream. Wishful thinking.

It was also wishful thinking that he would be able to fall asleep. He tossed and turned for hours, wrapped up in his navy blue sheets. He got a cup of tea at some point, opened up the window for a nice cool breeze, read a couple chapters of a book, even wacked one out, trying his hardest not to think of Derek, but nothing worked.

Eventually, around five in the morning, pure exhaustion took over and he got about two hours of off and on sleep.

In the morning, Stiles felt utterly wrecked. He wiped at his eyes and rolled over to grab his phone, unfortunately it was usually the first thing he did in the morning. He was used to being called in the middle of the night, something crazy was always happening in Beacon Hills, so checking for missed calls and texts first thing sort of became a routine.

He didn't have seventeen missed calls from Scott this time, only two notifications. An email from the University (most likely telling them once more just how excited they were to have him), and a text from Derek, at 6:32 AM.

What the hell was he doing up that early, and why did he text Stiles- oh. Oh yeah. Heat rushed to Stiles' face again, cheeks burning in embarrassment. He had totally sent a nude to Derek. But. . . Derek had liked it. Or at least claimed to, prank or not.

Maybe Isaac had gotten a hold of his phone, had seen it and pretended to be Derek. Ugh. That meant Isaac had seen his junk.

Clearing his throat, Stiles opened up the text.

Good morning.

A simple text, a weird one from Derek, but none the less- oh dear mother of God.

Stiles sat up in bed so fast his head spun. He shook his head, trying to rid the dizziness and stared down at his phone, mouth agape.

Right below the good morning text was a picture of Derek. A not suitable for work picture of Derek. A very naked picture of Derek. A very naked picture of Derek with his hand around his hard cock.

Oh my God.

Stiles didn't know what to say, what to do. It was very clearly Derek in the photo. I mean sure, Stiles had never seen the man's cock, which was huge by the way, but he'd seen the man shirtless plenty of times, that was Derek. Derek with his rock hard abs, slightly hairy chest, deep v-line and hung, hard, cock.

Derek fucking Hale had just sent Stiles a nude.

Stiles smirked, in awe. This was the best thing that had happened to him since. . . ever. He was going to frame that photo. Was going to save it as his background on his phone and laptop. The only thing better than a picture of Derek would be seeing Derek-.

Quickly, Stiles began typing, because if that was a possibility, he wasn't going to let that slip through his fingers.

Well good morning to you too.

It was sly, teasing, perfect for the situation, if you asked Stiles.

Derek's didn't respond, hadn't seen the message. Stiles quickly typed something else up, impatient and hoping maybe more than one message would grab the man's attention if he happened to just miss the first one.

Looks like you are happy to see me.

Stiles smirked again. If Derek was dead set on stunning Stiles, or perhaps this really was a prank, a really, really, too-far prank, then Stiles would play along. Two could play at this game.

Stiles watched his phone for a few minutes, waiting for that little delivered saying under his message to say read, but it didn't change. Huffing, Stiles got up, making himself breakfast quickly and making sure his volume was up all the way on his phone.

He was shoving waffles down his throat when he got a text, but it was just Scott, asking if he was busy today. Stiles said he was.

He cleaned the dishes thoroughly and decided to take a shower.

He definitely did not jerk off to Derek. Nope. He didn't.

Hoping out of the shower, his heart rate was still up when he checked his phone, wiping away the fog that had clung to the screen, and it went up further when he saw a text from Derek.

Woke up thinking about you.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. That was. . .  well hot for one, but also kinda sweet? Totally not like Derek.

Stiles looked down at his half-hard cock, interested already and gave it a slow stroke, hissing as he was still recovering from his last orgasm. Even so, he continued on, becoming fully hard in no time, just staring at that picture Derek had sent him.

Then Stiles did something so risky. Probably very stupid.

He took a picture of his hard dick and sent it to Derek.

So did I.

Derek was typing back immediately and Stiles went to his room, still naked, waiting for his response, stroking his dick lazily.

What were you thinking about, exactly?

Stiles typed back one handed. Risky. Stupid. But he kept going.

Thinking about that picture you sent me.

Stiles bit his lip again.

Did you like it?

Stiles almost laughed. Oh yes, he liked it.

Yes.

Derek seemed to think for a second, not texting back immediately. Honestly, Stiles was impressed that he texted as fast as he did, Derek wasn't exactly one with technology.

You should see it in person.

Stiles's heart hammered in his chest. He wondered what the "it" exactly referred to. He was so willing to find out.

Picture's don't do it justice?

Stiles teased.

I guess you'll have to come and find out.

Stiles sat up in bed quickly, running to his closet to throw on clothes. He threw on a loose shirt and some chinos, slipping on some shoes and brushing his teeth and quickly and thoroughly as he could. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, glad it was longer and hoping Derek would run his hands through it, pull it. As he was running out the door, starting his Jeep, he sent one final text.

Be there in ten.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847538/chapters/68179390

[crumburoo]

It came in 3 unassuming moments in his life. If asked, Pro hero Ground Zero will deny the possibility of a guardian angel until his dying breath, but the 3 letters he so carefully stored away in a shoebox inside his cabinet beg to differ.

The first letter he received was way back in middle school. It came the morning their homeroom teacher was due to discuss their selection for high school choices. Katsuki woke up as usual, had breakfast with his dad and his usual screaming match with his mom. After his bath, he went upstairs to prepare for the day. There, sitting unassuming in his desk, was a letter addressed to him. A girl did give him a letter yesterday. Probably another confession letter, he thought smugly, but then he remembered that he exploded that thing yesterday, causing the girl to cry and run away from him. Curiosity now piqued, he opens the letter and on it were written the words "Don't be an ass. Don't let them tell him that he can't make it."

"The fuck!?" was Katsuki's first thought, but he was quickly taken out of it when his mom yelled for him to hurry up, otherwise he will be late. Tossing the letter inside his drawer, he quickly gets himself ready for school. "That shit can wait" he mutters to himself.

In school and to no one's surprise, Izuku raises his hand and says he plans on applying to UA as well. Immediately, his classmates start snickering and makes fun of the "quirkless wonder." Katsuki used to bully Izuku in the past, and still does on occasion, but him taunting Izuku has since lost it's appeal. He doesn't start them anymore, but when prompted, he always gives out a little insult here and there.

Izuku stammers and nearly shakes, but he doesn't back down even when his homeroom teacher tells him to select a more "realistic" school of choice. It was then that Katsuki remembered the mysterious letter he received that morning. "Don't be an ass" the words kept repeating itself in his head.

-- "atsuki, what do you think!?" One of his classmates bumps his shoulder, likely trying to get him to make fun of Izuku. Izuku, who was crying silently but hasn't made a move to concede his dream of going to U.A. Izuku, who used to be his childhood bestfriend. Izuku, who was since diagnosed quirkless and has since been the subject of ridicule at his school.

In a strange mix of pity and reluctant awe, Katsuki opened his mouth and said "Tsk, leave the loser alone. If he wants to get killed that badly, then let him apply for U.A. As if he'll get in anyway." Izuku looks at him slackjawed, but as an impromptu leader within the classroom, all of his classmates decide to drop the subject.

After school, Katsuki goes straight home and takes a nap. When dinner time came, his mom casually mentions that she and her friend, Midoriya Inko will meet tomorrow night for some spa date. Katsuki just dismisses his mom's rant, but then Mitsuki casually says " Oi brat, Izu-chan called too, says he wants to say thank you. I didn't wake you up cause I know you'll be pissy. The hell did you do?"

"I didn't do shit, old hag! He said thank you to me, why are you assuming I did something wrong!?"

"Because you're you" is his mom's retort. After dinner, Katsuki locks himself in his room and thought back on Izuku's phone call, getting a weird sense of accomplishment all the while.

The second letter came during his 2nd year as a high school student. Katsuki and Izuku both got into U.A. It was a surprise to everyone when Izuku somehow passed the entrance exam. Still quirkless, Izuku did poorly on the physical part of the exam, but aced the written part, barely scraping enough points to get into the hero support courses. Katsuki and Izuku have since developed a tentative sort of understanding regarding their "friendship." If asked, yes they knew each other, but other than that, they never sought each other out. It was a weird thing, being apathetic to the existance of your once childhood bestfriend, but Katsuki and Izuku make it work. Even though Katsuki hears Izuku's name in passing, he never seeks out the nerd.

At U.A., Izuku's penchant for anything hero-related was considered endearing and not a total nerd-alert, so much so that Izuku has grown comfortable in his own skin. Before long, he started having friends of his own. Izuku has long since accepted the fact that he has no quirk, but still wants to do work in the pro hero circuit, so he decided to enroll in the hero support program at U.A.

During their second year, Katsuki's homeroom teacher mentioned that in preparation for their future pro hero careers, they need to get acquinted with other works related to their chosen field, which means that tomorrow, they will be working with the hero support students to work on possible support items they can use.

Katsuki trudges to his room at Heights Alliance and decides to do his homework before hitting the gym. There, stuck between his math and hero history notebooks, was a letter with his name on it. Immediately remembering the note he got in middle school, Katsuki hurriedly opens the letter and reads it. It was a lot longer than the first, with notes on always being careful and not being complacent about his own goals. What caught his attention though, was the footnote. Written in red ink were the words "it's okay to be confused at times. You're still young, so you got time to figure it out."

Katsuki hurriedly calls his homeroom teacher and asks permission to leave the dorm and go home for the weekend. Aizawa doesn't see any harm in it, and quickly agrees (if only to get Katsuki off the phone).

Morning comes and Katsuki is bored out of his skull. When Aizawa-sensei faced the class and started introducing the support course students, Katsuki was casually listening but felt himself bummed when Izuku wasn't with the class. Perhaps he was doing this shit with class 2-B, Katsuki wasn't sure. "Well, I can just make fun of Deku's scrawny little ass next time", Katsuki thinks. Aizawa then starts assigning their class with their support course partners, when a mop of hair pops inside their classroom and asks if this is the 2-A class. Katsuki looks up just in time to see Aizawa use his capture weapon to shush the mumbling support course student who was spouting excuses as to why he was late. Aizawa then releases his capture weapon and loudly exclaims "and just for that, you will be assigned to my problem child. Row 4 aisle 3, you'll be working with Bakugou Katsuki."

This is it, Katsuki thought to himself. He's screwed. As Aizawa lowers his capture weapon, Katsuki is immediately assaulted by Izuku's blushing face, likely embarrased from being called out by a pro hero for his clumsiness. What he was not prepared for, was the sight of his childhood friend. No longer a scrawny kid, Izuku has hit a growth spurt and has since learned to do basic toning exercises by the looks of it. Somehow, he's also developed a sense of style cause his hair is no longer an unruly mess of green hair, but it was shaved a bit at the edges and is parted, accentuating his dimples and the freckles on his cheeks.

Izuku hesitantly walks up to him and gives him a tentative smile. "H..hi Kacchan" Izuku stammers. Katsuki was not prepared for Izuku's smile. Not wanting to show his internal freakout, Katsuki says "you got tall, but I'm still taller, nerd" and then Izuku full on laughs at him. It was then that Katsuki realized that Izuku's laugh maybe has a nice ring to it. It was literal years since he heard that laugh, and he was not assaulted with good childhood memories. Nope, not at all.

The thing was, Katsuki has since come to terms with his sexuality. Sure, he dated men and women before, but he somehow leaned more on the masculine side when choosing his dates, and he is starting to realize that his once scrawny childhood bestfriend's smile makes him feel prickly but in a good kind of way.

Katsuki was brought out of his musings when Aizawa began to drone off on what they should do for the next hour of class before zipping himself up in his sleeping bag. Izuku then picks up Aizawa's queue and starts asking Katsuki questions about his quirk. It was then that Katsuki started to notice the little things, like how Izuku's drawings and note taking have gotten more meticulous over time. How his line of questioning about the intricacies of his quirk were more profound. No longer was Izuku always rambling about how cool and powerful his quirk is, he's now able to spout information on how he thinks Katsuki's present hero costume can be altered, so that he can get rid of his bulky gauntlets while still maintaining the same level of firepower he always had. Katsuki was left with nothing, but to answer the questions thrown his way. Before he knew it, the one hour mark was up, and Aizawa-sensei was emerging from his sleeping bag on the floor.

"Uhm, thanks for not exploding me there Kacchan" Izuku rambles. Wide-eyed at how the (not) nerd looks, Katsuki just grunts and says "whatever." Izuku takes it as some sort of sign and just smiles and says "So I'll need your number so we can meet up next week." That got Katsuki's mind reeling and immediately tries to think of reasons why Izuku of all people will ask for his number. He's taken out of his internal monologue when Izuku says "Oh wait, it's probably better if I email you using your school email handle, atleast I can send you progress reports on your costume upgrades. Well, I'll talk to you next week. See ya!"

With that, Izuku and his entire class all bow their heads and Aizawa sheperds them outside the classroom, probably to talk to them for a bit.

After class ends, Katsuki decides to forgo his training and holes up in his dorm room, just staring at the anonymous letter in his grasp. He's kinda screwed. He knows, but he grins despite himself. He's looking forward to the weekend, when he can keep the second letter he received together with the first.

The third letter came that morning. Fast forward 7 years, with lots of problems, misunderstandings, and a whole lot of crying (on Izuku's part, Katsuki swears), he and Izuku have managed to repair their ruined friendship and has since learned to exist together in the same room and even work together on occasion. Katsuki graduated as one of the Big 3 at U.A. and Izuku was scouted by a support company during his third year internship, and has since been working with a reputable support item company right after graduation.

Katsuki has come to terms with the idea that yes, his longing for his childhood bestfriend was not as platonic as he used to think (I'm just making up for lost time), but rather because he may or may not have developed romantic feelings for the (not) nerd. After finding out from class 3-A that Katsuki was bi, Izuku has been smiling at him more, and has even invited him out several times, always in the guise of "Kacchan, I want to discuss some possible costume upgrades, are you free?" And if they just so happen to meet up at some chic coffee shop or a cute cake shop, then it is what it is.

7 years into their tentative "friendship", Katsuki was hit with the realization that he really likes Izuku, and wants to ask him to be his boyfriend. So last week, he casually invited Izuku to their favorite izakaya that's situated in between his hero agency and Izuku's company. After arriving at his apartment to prepare for his "not date", he notices a letter in his mailbox. Seeing the same envelope and lettering, he quickly runs inside his room and opens his cabinet. Underneath his spare boots, he takes out the shoebox containing the first 2 letters he got. All the same envelope, same handwriting, and Katsuki has yet to figure out who sends these to him. Not wanting to jinx it, Katsuki sits on his bed and opens the new letter. The only words written inside was today's date, the restaurant he was supposed to meet Izuku in, and the words "Go to the other place" in bold black letters. Katsuki snickers and calls Izuku and tells him to meet him at that restaurant that serves Katsudon instead.

Later that night, while Izuku snuggles with Katsuki on his couch, Izuku jumps up and says "Oh yeah Kacchan, I forgot to tell you, but that izakaya we were supposed to go to got attacked by a villain earlier! Good thing Red Riot and Uravity were on patrol so they got everything under control! Can we drop by tomorrow? Check things out" Katsuki just snuggles into Izuku more. "Sure nerd, whatever you want."

-- end

PS: Now if only I can work out some details as to who is Katsuki's mysterious letter sender. A Katsuki from an alternate universe? Katsuki from the future sending his past self some dating tips? I'll leave it to your imagination 💚🧡

[angrylizardjacket]

my baby’s a public menace {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Four Iconic Moments The Press Had A Fucking Field Day With

A/N: 2670 words. So this time we’ve got Modern Times with 70s!Roger pulled forwards in time. Don’t think too hard about how it works it just does.

1. It Becomes Official

The moment they call Ben’s name at the BAFTAs, to receive the award for Lead Actor in a Television Series, you feel like the whole world is coming to a stand still, and Ben’s rising, disbelief written all over his face. 

“That’s me.” He says, quietly, as the applause has already begun, and then Roger’s on his feet, beaming, and he wraps his arms around Ben, pashing him directly in front of the camera that was catching every moment, and Ben kisses him back easily, before turning to you, eyes bright, and he pulls you to your feet, giving you a kiss as well.

“Congratulations, babe.” You murmur, and he’s so fucking ecstatic when he pulls back, and heads into the aisle, heading towards the stage. You slide into his seat with ease, lacing your fingers with Roger’s where he’s bouncing with energy and beaming with pride. 

“He fuckin’ won.” Roger laughs with a little disbelief, and you turn to each other, both absolutely radiating with pride and adoration.

“Our boy did it.” You giggle, and Roger’s gaze dips to your lips for a moment before he looks back up, a new spark in his eyes that you knew all too well.

“I can’t wait ‘til we all get home.” He dropped his voice low, and you could feel yourself growing a little flustered at the suggestion.

“Keep it in your pants, dear,” you nudged him, and he barked out a laugh, giving you a wink before he turned to where Ben was finally walking across the stage. You, however, felt your heart stop in your chest, “he kissed us on camera.”

“Well, I kissed him,” Roger mused, his thumb rubbing against the side of your hand, “couldn’t help myself.” He admitted, still beaming as Ben was handed his award, expression bright and a little disbelieving as he leaned into the microphone.

“I think I just won a BAFTA and outed myself in the same minute, so that’s going to be hard to beat next year.” Is the opening line of his speech, and the audience titters with polite laughter, while you and Roger are hiding your snorts. “I actually had to email the organisational committee to ask them to let me bring more than one plus one, I’m glad to see that it wasn’t in vain.” He laughs; he goes on to thank the crew of the show he worked on, the other cast members, his family, and he looks for you and Roger in the audience, pointing the award at you. “And for Rog and Y/N, of course; the weirdest and best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

“Do you think he knows how much we wanna suck his dick?” You lean over to Roger, whispering under your breath, amused smile on your lips at you look up at your boyfriend grinning on stage.

“Of course he does, look at that smile.” Roger responds with a low chuckle as Ben leaves stage, heading back towards you. When he gets back to his seat, you move back to your own seat, resting your head on his shoulder when he sits down.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” You tell him softly as they’re beginning the next segment on stage, and Ben reaches out with his free hand to rest it on your thigh, giving you a squeeze.

“I know, love.”

2. Roger Throws Half A Chicken At A Paparazzi

“Do you think we should go inside?” You ask, voice low as you catch sight of a man in a baseball cap and dark glasses covertly trying to take photos of you three. It was a nice evening, you, Roger, and Ben had been enjoying a meal outside at an upscale restaurant, the three of you draped on a two person outdoor lounge, your entrees having just been cleared up. Both you and Ben are on your phones, and Roger’s between the two of you, nose buried in the paper.

“Why?” Ben asks, not looking up from his phone, and you shift a little uncomfortably, giving the man trying to look like he’s not taking photos.

“Hey, dude, can you just leave us alone? We just wanna get dinner.” You call to the man, and he stands, a little flustered.

“So it’s true, you’re really dating both of them?” He calls back, stashing his phone in his pocket, pulling out a little recording device; the asshole came prepared.

“No, we’re just really good friends who make out at the BAFTAs.” Roger rolls his eyes, folding up the paper, and throwing the paper onto the table in front of him.

“No need to get snarky, mate, I just think it’s weird that somebody like her would get on so well with-” He’s cut off just as a kind and beleagured waitress puts down what looks like half a roast chicken surrounded by salad onto the table.

“Fuck off, alright?” Ben snaps at the man, clearly irritated, sitting up straighter, giving the waitress an apologetic smile as she leaves in a hurry.

“The hell do you mean ‘someone like her’?!” Roger growls, and you actually have to put a hand on his chest where he’s leaning forward, as if getting ready to throw himself at the reporter.

“I- do you wanna address the rumours then, Y/N about-” The man starts, but Roger cuts him off with a snarl.

“If this bastard brings up those fuckin’ gold digger accusations, I’m gonna start throwing things.” He warns, and not a moment later, the man brings up the very words Roger had told him not to. You’re just heaving a heavy sigh, used to being hounded by the gossip magazines, though you try not to pay them any mind.

“I could shout how much I love you from the rooftops and these assholes would still think this is some sort of weird, sugar daddy situation.” Ben turns to you, his voice low as he gives you a long suffering smile. You lean in across the empty space that Roger had just vacated to give him a kiss, before turning to where Roger was wielding his roast chicken like a grenade, lobbing it at the reporter, yelling about how he’s ‘sick and tired of hearing people talk shit about his girlfriend; she’s got more kindness and talent in one tit than the paparazzi has in his whole body’. 

“We should probably get him before he does any real damage.” Ben muses, to which you agree. The two of you move to collect your rogue boyfriend as he continues to yell and squirm.

“Baby, baby please calm down; you’ve made a scene, you’ve thrown a chicken, you’ve mentioned my tits, we can have dinner at home.” You try to placate him, your arm tucked in his as Ben’s got an arm around his shoulders, the two of you guiding him from the restaurant.

“Just makes me so bloody mad.” Roger growls his hands on your hips where you’ve got your arms around his waist as Ben pays for your half finished meals. “It’s twenty eighteen, you’d think dickheads would learn to grow up.” He huffed.

“I know, baby.” You muse, bringing him in for a kiss to distract him, hoping to let his anger simmer down a little as you two stand in the parking lot. 

“I just love you is all, people like that make me so pissed-” He whispers, more to himself than anything, but then you’re kissing him again, humming affirmations, your hands in his hair.

“I love you too, I love you too.” You murmur against his lips.

Later that night you’ll see Ben’s instagram story from just before he joins the two of you again. You and Roger, arms around each other, lit by a single streetlight, you’re leaning in to him, lips inches from his, and he’s smiling gently back at you; the whole image is surprisingly intimate, especially for Roger. It’s captioned ‘I’m allowed to take candids ‘cos they love me’.

3. Someone Gives Ben Tequila

Ben’s not usually the type to get drunk and reckless. Or well, he’s the type to get drunk on occasion, but not reckless, not like Roger, who can be incredibly reckless even while sober, nor like you, since you could go either way. Ben was meant to be the grounded one. Except sometimes he has tequila. It’s an afterparty for a movie he’d gotten a supporting role in, it’d been fun, but he was looking forward to being able to spend time with you and Roger again. Speaking of the two of you, you’d disappeared almost half an hour ago, Roger had gone to the bathroom and you’d gone to get more drinks.

When he finds you, you’re trapped in an uncomfortable conversation with one of the editors assistants’, a weedy kid who couldn’t seem to figure out that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Hi, baby!” You call out to Ben the moment you think he’ll be able to hear you over the music, and he makes a beeline for you, his heart singing when he sees your face light up.

“Hello, love, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He says, barely acknowledging the guy you’d been talking to, who’s own expression fell as Ben pressed a kiss to your lips. The two of you head off in search of Roger, who you find by the bathroom, talking with someone who’s clearly quite enamoured with him. From his easy stance and casual smile, you could tell he was at least enjoying the woman’s company. Neither you nor Ben were usually the jealous type, but after a few drinks, you couldn’t be blamed for just wanting to stake your claim.

“Hey, babe, who’s this?” Ben asks, slipping an arm around Roger’s shoulders as you stepped around to loop your arm through his on his other side. Roger, with a sly, knowing smile, looks between the two of you, before smiling brightly at the woman who’d been talking to him.

“Like I was saying, this is my boyfriend and girlfriend; you’ll have to excuse them, they get jealous easily.” He smirked, and the woman looked a little shocked, a little flustered, as she stuttered her way through an apology. “It’s no worry, I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a while,” and with that, he winked at you. Taking the hint, you moved, taking Ben’s hand and leading him away.

“He’s just being a social butterfly, you know how he is.” You mused gently, the two of you flopping onto a sofa. Ben hums thoughtfully, sitting beside you, your hand in his. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trailing kisses up your neck to your jaw.

“‘m not jealous.” He said, lips at the corner of yours, pressing another kiss there before he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, moving so you’re smiling over your shoulder at him, “it’s just nice to say you guys are mine.” And his voice is low, almost a growl, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell him, kissing him hard, letting his hands wander and pull you close to him.

“Mine?” He asks, and his hand is on your thigh, moving your legs so you’re sitting over him rather than next to him.

“Yours.” You agree, kissing him again, messy and passionate, you can taste the alcohol on his lips and his tongue but you don’t care when he’s leaning you back to lie on the sofa. “And Roger’s.” You add quietly, and there’s a gleam in Ben’s eyes where he’s looking down at you, his arm around you, one hand on your waist.

“You’re ours, love, there’s no doubt about it.” He assures, and he leans in to kiss you again. 

“I can’t take you two anywhere!” Roger’s grinning when he finds the two of you, and Ben presses his laughter into your collar as you look up at Roger and make an insistent, grabby hand for him. “If you insist.” He chuckles, sinking to his knees to join you at your level, kissing you where you’re splayed out on the sofa, with Ben all but on top of you. “You know there’s a perfectly good bathroom not too far from here.” 

Not ten minutes later, one of the other cast members sends to the cast group chat, in all capitals ‘BEN’S BANGING IN THE BATHROOM’ which was met with either ‘at least they’ve freed up the sofa’ or ‘lmao called it’. You’re not surprised, nor are you ashamed, when some gossip rag has your face on it (or more accurately, Ben’s face) the next morning, and a riveting account of what happened with no actual details, and a photo someone took on their phone of you and Ben on the sofa. It wasn’t the first time, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

4. Roger Gets Instagram

Roger takes surprisingly well to instagram, which is both hilarious and terrifying. He posts a lot of selfies; he takes to being an instagram fuckboi like a duck takes to water. At first it’s mostly blurry shots, of sunlight, sometimes it’s you and Ben out of focus, laughing, or he gets one of you two to take a photo of him, shirtless. 

When he gets a waterproof phone, the first thing he does is take a photo of you and he kissing underwater at the beach, and then three separate, all individually hilarious videos of Ben trying and failing to do a majestic hair flip coming out of the water; in the last one, both boys get hit by a huge wave, and the video ends with you laughing, fishing the phone out of the surf.

The three of you go on holidays to somewhere sunny, and at the end of the week, he posts the highlights; you lying on your stomach beneath a palm tree on the beach, topless; a selfie of the three of you smiling at the camera against a backdrop of a starlit sky, golden in the light of a bonfire; Ben in a coconut bra, a little blurry with the movement of laughter, grinning at you just out of shot; you, in bed, making a truly terrible face where he’s just woken you up and the sun’s in your eyes. His favourite, however, is the one from him at the end of the holiday, shirtless and tanned, shot from the waist up, biting his lip as he’s turned to look off to the left, showing off how he’s covered in hickies.

The shots that get the most media attention are his more risque ones, like the shot on his story that you’d taken where you could see the bottom half of his face all the way down to his hips, with a sheet covering his modesty, but a lipstick kiss mark along his V-line and his tongue out. (There’s a followup photo on your instagram story, of your lipstick smeared, grin wide, and your hair messy, with the caption, ‘sometimes you just gotta be a messy bitch’, and people put two and two together, and conservatives lost it.) 

The most infamous actual post of his is the shot of you and Ben together in bed, he’s leaning against the headboard, still mostly laying down, and you’re draped over him, chin resting on his chest where the two of you are grinning about something. The sheet covers most of your ass, and comes up to Ben’s hips, and you’re giving the camera some pretty glorious side boob, and the photo’s framed to show room for one more person beside you in the bed, a sliver of sunlight shining through the curtains, across Ben’s chest and your back, and it’s just captioned ‘what a sight’. He’d asked you both before posting it, and you’d both agreed; it didn’t violate any guidelines, but social media still had a field day with the sweet, clearly post-coital photo.

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Any Stranger I Choose (Chapter 2/3)

PART ONE HERE

Sam has lost all of her nerve by the following morning. She spends about five minutes nervously pacing before she sends out an S.O.S. text to Jess and Lena, and invites them to meet her at Luna’s Cafe in thirty minutes. It’s early. 6:30 AM early, but somehow Sam knows that her best friends will be there for her no matter what. And yes, Sam does spend an extra five minutes doing her makeup and picking her nicest bra - and the easiest to unclasp - because she still wants this.

She just hopes Alex does too.

The drive to the cafe takes far too long for a Saturday morning, but construction is overtaking the city, and Sam takes those extra minutes to think over everything that happened yesterday. Half of it bordered on humiliating but most of it was...lovely. Sensual. The things she had been missing from her life.

When Sam darts past some suits and aging hipsters, she finds that Jess and Lena are already sitting at a table, three mugs sitting at the center, talking animatedly about something. Lena’s eyes light up when she spots Sam and Jess scrambles to pull back a chair. “There she is. The woman of the hour.” Lena slides a mug in front of Sam and smiles. “Can I start off by saying: I can’t believe you didn’t text us last night. I’m dying for details.”

“Oh, god.” Sam tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s struggling to find the right words. “Well, for starters, I didn’t know this was a masturbation thing. I thought we were going to…”

“Oh…Jesus.” Lena’s eyes go wide. “Didn’t you read the email I sent you?”

“No! Which I obviously regret now.” Sam allows Jess to pat her hand. It’s pity and she doesn’t even care. “After spending five minutes freaking out, Alex was actually…” Sam rubs the back of her neck. “Really sweet and...once I felt comfortable enough, I actually got the courage to try.”

“How was it? Awkward? Weird? Fun? Did you...get there?” Jess asks.

“I would’ve if I didn’t freak out so much. She didn’t overstep or anything, but she helped me get undressed-.” Lena’s mouth hits the ground. Sam's trying to stay poised and casual. “The point is...do you guys think it’s a good idea for me to maybe...go further?”

“Hell yes!” Lena yells so loud that the entire cafe looks at them.

“Do you think she would?” It’s a great question and one that Sam has been considering for the past few hours.

“Jess, you should’ve seen her yesterday. She was having as much fun as I was.” Sam sighs. “I don’t know how to initiate it. She’s...cool and I’m-.”

“Stop right there, Arias.” Lena rests her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You are smart, beautiful, and absolutely capable of getting railed by Alex Danvers.” Lena could probably learn a little finesse but Sam appreciates how confident Lena is. “Speaking of the devil.” Sam follows Lena’s eyes to the line in front of the register. Where Alex is standing.

Of course.

“Wow, she’s hotter in person. How is that even possible?” Jess is practically drooling, Sam has to physically turn Jess’s face so they don’t all look like creepy stalkers. Sam tries to sink in her seat. She doesn’t want to notice that Alex’s hair is a little messier than necessary. The sleeves on her t-shirt are rolled up just enough that Sam can now see that she has a tattoo of a bird on the inside of her bicep. She must have at least fifteen tattoos, maybe more, and Sam wants to see all of them. She wants to be wrapped in those arms. She wants those arms to lift her and throw her down on that giant bed. “Get a grip, Sam.”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbles. She continues watching Alex who gets a coffee - to go - and a small container of fruit. The barista says something that makes Alex laugh. Her laugh is light and cute, and Sam feels unnecessarily jealous that she isn’t the one who is the cause of something so wonderful. Whatever Alex’s response is, the barista laughs loudly, utterly charmed by Alex. As everyone probably is.

Sam is ready to watch Alex leave. She needs a few more hours to gather her courage, she should change into another dress, and maybe put on more makeup. But Alex spots her and approaches. “Hey, Sam.” Jess is fawning and Lena is amused. Sam must look flustered because she can see that Alex is looking at her with those soft eyes that had been enough to convince Sam to get half naked the night before. “Are you stalking me?”

“We just happen to be in the neighborhood,” Lena supplies. “ You’re up early. I thought artists usually slept in.”

“I’m still stuck on East Coast time. Though I am a bit of an early riser.” Alex is talking to Lena, technically, but her eyes keep finding Sam’s. “We’re a two-minute walk from my apartment,” Alex’s smile is easy. And Sam is blushing way too much, like always.

“Sounds like you’re trying to get her to go home with you,” Jess tells Alex.

“I am.” The back of Alex’s hand is at her side, almost touching Sam’s arm. She wants to be touched. She’s waiting. “If not for my work, you left something there last night. You know that thing ?” Oh. So, Alex is toying with her. It’s a game, one that Sam fully intends to play.

“Right.” Sam finishes her coffee and stands. “Are you sure it’s not too early?”

“No, I’m ready for you.” Lena and Jess exchange looks, hanging onto every word and look that Alex and Sam share. “And this time of day is my favorite for shooting. With this light and you, what could be better than that?”

Lena looks as though she might scream but Sam manages to wave Alex off. After their quick goodbyes, Sam and Alex start for the exits, and Sam can feel her phone vibrating erratically in her pocket. She assumes that Jess and Lena are texting her various versions of “OH MY GOD!!!” Alex opens the door for Sam and says something about it being a nice day out.

Sam can barely hear her. Sam is focused on the fact that her hands are all clammy and she feels so young. Any version of attention that she receives is enough to turn her insides to goo. This is going to be a long day. “I like your dress,” Alex says simply. Sam feels silly wearing this delicate floral print but Alex toys with the fabric that is wrapped around Sam’s waist, holding the dress in place.

If Alex were to grab the fabric and pull then that would be one less thing sitting between Alex’s hands and Sam’s body. But Alex doesn’t pull, she just keeps watching and taking in the morning air. “I took your advice.”

“About…?”

“Taking photos of myself. I did it.” Alex watches Sam’s face closely. “It was different.”

“Can you do that? I mean how did you take the photos if your hands were...busy.” Sam rolls her eyes at her own words. Alex pulls her keys out of her pocket and unlocks the front door of the building.

“Timers. I’ve learned lots of tricks over my career.”

“Oh.” They get into the elevator and stand on the other side of the tiny space, Alex stands shoulder to shoulder with Sam. It feels like 3 am, not 7. Sam feels tipsy. Drunk on Alex’s smile. Her arms. Her eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“I’m fine, you just...I didn’t expect to see you so early.” Sam tries not to smile or look dorky. “Nerves again.”

“Honestly, if you look at the photos you took, you don’t look nervous at all. That kind of confidence...it suits you.” They exit the elevator and head for Alex’s apartment. Alex has a whole ring of keys and she takes a long time figuring out which one is which. “Jesus Christ, I need to get rid of like half of these,” Alex says as she finally unlocks her door.

“You need a good assistant.” Alex laughs and then, not so faintly, Sam hears someone scoff from inside the apartment. As they enter, this person becomes clear. Not just a person, a woman, wearing clothes so comfortable that she looks as though she’s just woken up. This woman is holding an open laptop in her hand and as soon as she sees Alex she grabs for the container of fruit.

“About time,” She says all carefree and charming. Alex sets her coffee mug down, cleans off a chair, and offers it to Sam.

“Sam, this is Siobhan, my assistant.”

“Your lifesaver, more like,” Siobhan corrects, shaking Sam’s hand, and diving into the pieces of strawberries, berries, and orange slices. “You never said you had a session this morning.”

“Well, I do.”

“Our shared calendar exists for a reason.” This sounds like a conversation that they’ve had many times. Siobhan doesn’t seem too bothered, Alex seems slightly annoyed.

“To piss me off, yes, I remember.” Alex pulls a face. One that’s meant only for Sam. It feels nice to be included, if only briefly. “I do need you to set up a meeting with the curator if you have time today.”

“I always have time for you.” Siobhan flicks the top of Alex’s head, gathers her bag, and heads for the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” It’s a warning. Or a joke. Alex just smirks, waits for Siobhan to leave, and turns to Sam.

“I can’t promise anything to anyone.” Alex clasps her hands together. Rejuvenated. “Would you like something to drink?” It occurs to Sam that this is just a thing that Alex does. Offers up something nice, does the polite thing, all while trying her best to maintain the facade that she hasn’t let her eyes travel below Sam’s neck. Sam wants to be on the bed. Now.

“Sure,” Sam says. Unlike yesterday, Alex does know where the drinks are. She pours Sam something that looks like sangria and adds slices of oranges before she hands her the glass. She looks curious and downright handsome just leaning in front of her watching and waiting until it’s the right time for Sam to get naked again. “Do you work well with your assistant?”

“Eh.” Alex shrugs. “It’s not really my thing but I’m not great with all the logistical stuff. It’s boring.”

“You’re right, this is more fun.”

“It is.” Alex takes the cup out of Sam’s hand and sets it on the counter. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking. I keep forgetting that this is a job and not…”

“It’s okay, you know. This is actually making me feel a lot better about…”

Neither one of them can figure out a way to end a sentence. But Alex grabs Sam’s hand and leads her to the bed. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Should we start like before?” Alex sits on the stool and grabs her camera. Sam is on the edge of the bed unsure of how they started yesterday but certain of how they ended up. “Or can I try something?”

“That sounds mysterious.” Sam laughs. “Should I be worried?”

“No.” Alex takes a test shot and adjusts her camera. “It’ll be fun.”

“For you?”

“For you, hopefully.” Alex smiles wide. “Indulge me.” Sam decides that maybe she should, not just because Alex is asking, but because she’s said 'no' to so much in her life. Lena had poked and prodded at Sam so much that she finally finally thinks that it’s about time to start having some fun.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Alex stands and raises her camera again. “So...here’s the thing.” Alex motions for Sam to stand and as they’re standing there, Sam suddenly realizes that Alex is touching her. Touching her hand, then her bicep, and now Alex has wedged her arm behind Sam’s back, and her fingers are touching the zipper of Sam’s dress. “If I saw you out and about in the real world. I’d buy you a drink or coffee.” Alex pulls the zipper, only one or two inches, just enough for Sam to feel the heat of the sun masking the heat radiating off Alex’s fingers. “But that’d be all premise. Bullshit prologue just to get you up here.” Sam can’t stop looking at the camera. Her cheeks are warm, legs just starting to tremble. “I like that look.”

“What look?”

“The way you look when you’re reminded that you’re beautiful. The way you look when you’re just starting to believe it.”

“Shut up.” Sam looks away from the camera, in a weak attempt at composing herself.

“Should I?”

“No.” Sam moves closer to Alex and Alex unzips the rest of the way down. Lingering hands that want to touch, probably would too, but can’t. The dress doesn’t fall to the ground. Alex likes this , Sam thinks. One wrong or right move and Sam will be standing there wearing only her bra and underwear.

“May I?” Alex’s fingers linger on the straps of the dress. She’s waiting for permission.

“If you want.”

“What do you want?” Sam laughs. How can she not? What she wants is for Alex to stop hiding behind her camera. She wants Alex to say that she’s beautiful. She wants to be touched. She wants someone to kiss the insides of her thighs. She wants to moan like she did yesterday. She wants to be completely unafraid.

Alex must sense Sam’s hesitation. “What do you want me to do?” Alex rephrases.

“Take off the dress.”

Watching her dress fall to the ground feels like shedding skin. Watching Alex fumble with her camera is worthy validation for this feeling. Which is why Sam returns to her spot on the bed, waits patiently for Alex to take more photos. Waits for Alex to run her fingers through her cropped hair. Laughs at Alex’s failed attempt at small talk. “I thought you were suave,” Sam says with a laugh. The sun has fully ignited the room. Sam has blossomed. Alex hasn’t once apologized for looking where she shouldn’t. They are indulging, they are slowly getting free.

“I am. I just wanted to hear your laugh again.” Sam could spend years in this room.

“Alex?” Sam is ready. Sam is alive and ready and Alex is literally the most beautiful person she’s ever met. “I wish you’d stop hiding behind that camera.” Sam realizes, as Alex is slowly lowering her camera, that she should learn how to be more direct. Ask for what she wants, even though Alex’s eyes tell Sam that Alex understands her completely.

Silence follows. Too much silence.

Alex is propping her camera up on some kind of stand. Sam feels the tension in the room expand. Her heart races in a way that she’s never experienced before. Alex is completely calm. Completely focused on Sam. And when Alex stands at the edge of the bed, grabs the undersides of Sam’s thighs, and pulls her closer to the edge of the bed, Sam thinks that she might actually pass out. “Can I taste you? I’ve wanted to since I first saw you.”

“S-sure. Yeah.”

“The camera is still taking photos. Whatever you do, don’t lay down.” Sam nods. Her eyes follow Alex’s. Alex gets down on her knees and slowly - so slow that it’s painful - tugs down Sam’s underwear. Sam feels more exposed than before but also completely comfortable. Horny too, obviously.

“What? No foreplay?” Sam says surprised that her mouth even still works.

“It’s been two days of foreplay. You okay, Gorgeous?” If anyone on the planet had called her ‘gorgeous’ like some kind of pet name, Sam would be kicking them in the face. But Alex dove in like she’d been ready and waiting to make Sam sharply inhale forever.  

And oh god does Sam get it. Every misguided hook up had been a scam. One where Sam had been fooled into believing that sex was just sex. Right now, Alex was making her believe in something greater. Something that made Sam unashamed of moaning, unashamed of being unable to choose between closing her eyes and opening them. Alex was a pro or a wizard or something that qualified her to be deserving of a Nobel Prize.

And it wasn’t just her tongue. It was gentle kisses that made Sam scream. Hands that pulled her closer, hands that pushed Sam’s legs wider apart. Sam grabs Alex’s hair because she can’t grab anything else. The gentle hum that this elicits from Alex is like a switch. One that makes Sam feel powerful. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.” So Sam pushes and pulls, letting her hands do the praising that her words can’t seem to get across. To tell Alex to  keep going or that feels incredible . When Sam is close she knows it. She can feel her body teetering, with bliss waiting just around the corner. Alex knows it too because she pushes her tongue inside Sam and touches Sam’s clit with her finger, gently rubbing and pushing until Sam releases.

And when she does, Alex holds her through it. Whatever Alex is whispering, Sam can’t hear her, but it soothes her enough to get Sam to finally breathe again. She feels like a teenager again, not because of the sex - it’s never been anything like this - but because of the way that her heart feels like it might explode.

Alex does let her go. Just long enough to grab her camera and take a few final shots. Sam’s legs are so shaky that she doesn’t even bother doing anything other than basking in the hazy and wondrous afterglow. Sam is in love.

Totally and fully in love. It’s a brief experience, this version of love. She wants to hold onto it. Forever. But eventually it fades and she’s left to realize that the crush that she has on Alex is still fully intact. She doesn’t feel dirty or used. She feels like she wants to see Alex again. She wants to take her out for that drink. Get her to laugh. Sam feels clingy. She doesn’t care. “You alright?”

“God, yes.” Sam smiles and Alex lays on the bed beside her, elbow propped up beside her head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Alex chuckles. “Anytime.”

“Okay. If you mean it.”

“You know…” Alex tucks a stray strand of hair back beside Sam’s ear. “I don’t have to use any of those photos.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Of course I want to. But it’s...this was different for you.” Alex is so close to Sam that Sam wonders if they’re going to kiss. “You were honest in ways that other people can’t be. You’ve surprised me, Sam. And I would love for those photos to be in the exhibit, but more than that...I hope you’ll be there.”

“That’s sweet.” Sam lightly touches Alex’s arm. “I'll be there.”

“Good.” Alex looks at her thoughtfully and then says, “So why do you work at that big company?”

“Huh?”

“LCorp. Why do you work there?”

“It’s just a job.” Sam thinks. “One that I’m good at.”

“ Just a job . Hm.” Alex lays on her back. “Is that really what you want to be doing?”

“Are you really criticizing my job right now? Not everyone can be a world famous photographer who is stupidly attractive. And way too good at giving head.” Sam lays on her back beside Alex. “I am happy. Most of the time, at least.”

“Good. Happy is good.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I could be convinced. I’m just not so sure happy is out there for me.” It’s the first time that Alex’s heart is really out there. Sam can see the pain, the slight uneasiness. It’s a chance that Alex seems to be taking on Sam. It’s brave.

“Oh, I see. The sad artist card.” Sam pokes Alex’s side. “Well, my guess is that you have a lot of freedom. You can travel anywhere in the world. So, if you’re not happy, then you should go find out what happy means for you.”

“I’m happy right now.” Alex’s eyes catch Sam’s. “So...what does that mean?”

“Fucking traffic in this city is-.” Sam scrambles to grab her dress, Alex flies off the bed, as Siobhan enters the room carrying a large box of supplies. “Oh...fuck.” Alex rushes over to stand between Siobhan and Sam, trying her best to calm Siobhan’s shock. “Wow, Alex. Seriously?”

“Shut up.”

Sam pulls on her dress and struggles to zip up the back. She isn’t sure if she should run or hide or sign an NDA. “Hey, I’m gonna…” Sam points to the door. Alex is stuck between a rock in a hard place. Siobhan is not chill and Alex needs to put out that fire.

Sam knows, really knows that she won’t see Alex before the exhibit opens. And she’s okay with it. Sure, she feels like a user and like maybe there was a little spark between them. But who is she kidding? Alex is way out of her league and she should just let it all go before her desperation hurts her. Sam is halfway across the street, when she hears, “Hey, wait up!” Alex catches up to her at the crosswalk and they walk together.

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, about Siobhan? Yeah, whatever.” Alex waves it off. “That was my fault. I don’t normally…” Alex cringes a little. Sam can sense it, whatever might have happened between them, it’s slipping away. “I was sort of wondering if-.”

“I won’t tell anyone about what happened. It probably shouldn’t have. It was fun, but...I mean come on. You travel the world. I stay at home.” Alex’s face falls and Sam realizes that this is not what Alex expected. “Hey, and about the photos...you should use whichever ones you want. Surprise me, okay?”

“Oh...right. Sure.” Alex tries to smile. “It’s in a few months so...thanks for being my...model.” Alex holds out her hand and Sam shakes it awkwardly. “I’ll see you around.” Watching Alex walk away is easy. At that moment it feels like the right thing. But later, when Sam is eating dinner alone and getting weird photos - they’re memes, mom! - from Ruby, Sam realizes that it’s all a mistake.

Chemistry isn’t just about sex. Alex and Sam were seconds away from figuring that out and if Sam had just held it together, held onto that moment, then she would’ve asked Alex out. But Sam isn’t good at asking for what she wants. That’s the whole reason she never even came close to well - coming . And now, all Sam can hope for is that the memory is strong enough. That one of them will crack and call and she’ll get a chance to actually do what she wants for a change.

Waiting is the worst part. Sam isn’t sure she’s ready.

[lalainajanes]

80+98?

80 Green Eyed Epiphany + 98 Curses

On day four of Caroline’s visit to New Orleans  (she’d never been, despite numerous invitations), Klaus had been cursed.

That first morning he’d been supposed to meet her at a cafe. She’d predictably fallen in love with beignets, is working her way through all the top rated spots. Kind of driving Klaus crazy - he’s not short of opinions (on anything, ever) and doesn’t trust the taste levels of internet strangers - but Caroline wants to make up her own mind.

He’d complained but at least it had made her laugh.

She’d gotten a text just as she’d been leaving her hotel, a short message from Klaus saying a small problem had cropped up overnight and could she possibly swing by the compound?

She’d changed direction, picked up two coffees on her way, had reread Klaus’ text looking for a clue. Caroline had figured the lack of urgency meant the problem was relatively minor, no chances of death or large scale destruction.

She’d been kinda wrong about that.

Freya had answered her knock looking a little tired and a lot aggravated. Caroline had regretted not calling ahead and offering to pick up an extra coffee. She’s barely offered a greeting when Frey’s had sighed, appearing relieved, “Come on in, I’m glad you’re here. Klaus is being… well, Klaus.”

“Murdery and a pain in the ass?” Caroline had asked.

Freya had laughed and agreed and they’d both been on the receiving end of Klaus’ very best unimpressed glare when they’d joined him in Freya’s study. He hadn’t said anything even though Klaus did snippy excellently he always managed a flawless amount of bite, his accent and ridiculous confidence smoothing any hint of whininess.

Klaus staying silent, not even bothering with a greeting or a thank you when she’d set his coffee down, had been weird.

“What’s up?” Caroline had asked cautiously, taking in the mountain of opened spell books.

Freya had done the explaining.

A witch (they didn’t know which one) had placed a curse (the specifics of which were also unknown) on Klaus and his voice had been taken.

Caroline might have made a joke about The Little Mermaid. And had been horrified that neither Klaus nor Freya had seen the Disney movie. And they pretended to be so cultured and fancy, sheesh.

Klaus had grabbed her attention, handing her a sketchbook with a few scribbled (if one could call Klaus’ pretty handwriting such a thing) lines. He thought it best to get out of New Orleans for a bit, he was sorry to have to cut her tour short but would be happy to continue it at a later date. The final bit was a question asking her to leave with him.

Saying no hadn’t even crossed Caroline’s mind. Showing up in Klaus’ home base hadn’t been a casual move. In the decades since she’d reestablished contact. Fifty-three years ago she’d sent him an invitation to her college graduation. Klaus had shown up with a present this time, an airline voucher, and Caroline had accepted it, driven to Atlanta and taken the first available international flight out.

A decision she’s never regretted for a second.

At some point she’d taken to sending him postcards, quick little reviews of whatever city she’d just finished devouring jotted on the back. Caroline had taken to throwing herself kick ass birthday parties and Klaus had strolled in to her big four-oh.

She hadn’t minded and they’d split the bottle of champagne he’d brought. After that Klaus had popped up in person every couple of years. They’d stopped bothering to pretend they wouldn’t end up in bed together after their third not so coincidental meet up. They’d graduated from postcards to regular emails and occasional phone calls.

Caroline thinks she might be ready for something more but she hasn’t quite figured out how to say so.

She’d set the sketchbook down once she’d finished reading, Klaus had been watching her expectantly, just the slightest bit wary.  Very aware of their audience Caroline had kept it simple, “I’m in. Where are we going?”

Less than twenty-four hours later and they’re in New York. Since the goal was to lay low their staying at one of her homes. It’s only a one bedroom but the views are amazing. She watches Klaus closely as they walk in but he seems happy enough, making a close study of the art on the walls. She explains where she’d gotten them as he moves from piece to piece. For once her chatterbox tendencies are going to come in handy. They end up next to the windows, Klaus had shed his jacket, the sleeves of his t-shirt are pushed up. Caroline bumps her shoulder into his, “This is why I bought the place.”

The sun’s just beginning to set and she figures Klaus will appreciate the sight. When she hears his appreciative hum she forgets all about the changing sky. He’s turned to face her, face just as surprised. His mouth opens and no sound comes out. Klaus tries again, his jaw tensing in frustration. She reaches out instinctively, and when her hand touches his forearm words ring out, “...meddlesome bloody witches!”

Caroline assumes the words she’d missed had been creative death threats but she can’t bring herself to care. “Okay. Experiment time. Say something.”

“This place suits you, love. I can see why you chose it.”

Caroline beams. It was always nice to have her good taste appreciated. “Why thank you.” She takes two steps away from him, “How about now?”

Nothing.

He sighs, inaudibly, and Caroline reaches for his hand. His fingers thread through hers, squeezing. “While I see some perks to this loophole I imagine it’ll come with plenty of irritations.”

“Can everybody hear you if they touch you? Is it maybe just vampires? Maybe it’s just me?” Kind of a conceited thought but they’d been spending an awful lot of time together over the last few days. Maybe whatever he’d been whammied with had noticed. Magic could be tricky.

“We’ll have to test it. Irritating, like I said.”

He’s distinctly grumbly and Caroline finds herself smiling. “First step, call Freya. Maybe this news will help her out. Then we’ll go out and play scientists.”

“And the second step?”

Caroline grins, “Well, I want to shower off the plane germs. Wanna help?”

With that much skin on skin contact they should be able to hash out their plan of attack with minimal interruptions.

It doesn’t take long for Caroline to begin contemplating death and destruction. More death, if she’s being honest. Other people’s. They’d quickly found that Klaus could talk to anyone as long as he touched them. Plenty of people take the opportunity to touch him back.

And that’s where Caroline’s issues had begun.

She can’t really blame them. He’s an appealing package and the random humans they meet in restaurants and clubs don’t know the dimples and charm hide something dangerous.

Still, it’s driving her freaking nuts. She wants to slap away the hands that rest on his arm, shove in between Klaus and every person who pushes into his space. Had indulged in a brief but satisfying fantasy of ripping out the hair of the woman last night who’d feigned drunkenness and pressed her barely contained boobs all over him.

She’d all bit ripped his pants off when they’d gotten back to her place. Klaus hadn’t minded, had shoved her skirt up, had used his teeth to shred the front of her dress, and taken her against the door.

Tonight they’re going to see a play, are having drinks first. Her martini splashes over the rim, Caroline’s too vigorous stirring creating a tiny whirlpool. She groans, fumbling for a napkin, her eyes glued on Klaus across the room.

The bartender’s cute in a nerdy hipster kind of way, had blushed a little when Klaus had leaned in, grabbed his wrist and said something about his watch. The guy’s still a little flushed, leaning against the bar, mirroring Klaus’ pose. Their forearms are pressed together and he’s ignored the last two customers who tried to get service.

She’s tempted to go over there (maybe it would be a good deed? CuteNerd would regret getting fired because Klaus is distractingly hot) but she stays planted in her seat.

Caroline needs to claw back a little control because if she goes over there she might end up doing something that’ll get them kicked out.

It’s all adults in here but the things Caroline want to do probably violate health codes. Also, there’s always the risk someone would film it and having a sex tape on the internet is so not something Caroline’s into.

One just for her and Klaus? Sure, she’d be down.

Ugh. That train of thought so isn’t helping her control issue.

He glances over at her, brows furrowing and whatever he’d been saying trailing off. Caroline smiles but she knows it’s obviously fake because Klaus straightens, heading her way.

CuteNerd looks like someone’s kicked his puppy, poor thing.

Klaus is sliding into the booth before she can figure out what to say. He grabs the hand she’s spilled her drink on, lifting it to his mouth. His lips wrap around her index finger, teeth scraping the pad.

So. Not. Fair.

“Are you…”

His question is lost when she surges into him. She balances herself with a hand on his chest, letting it slide up and curve around the back of his neck. His mouth is open, waiting for her, . His hands urge her closer. Caroline doesn’t kiss him like she’s asking permission.

She kisses him like he’s already hers.

[isakwon]

Coffee Bean (Extinct) Part 4

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Romance & Angst

Word Count: 4.2k 

Coffee Bean Masterlist

Summary: It’s believed the Red String of Fate can tangle and make annoying knots, but it can never break. But can it become untied from one person on either end?  

  “What?” Chanyeol lifts himself up off the ground. “What is he babbling about?” He reads the text again puzzling and puzzling what this evening suddenly bringing.

Messages

[From] Lay:  Actually you’re going on a blind date.

    He closes the shoe box of letters and placed them back into their hiding place then exiting the storage closet. Chanyeol drags his feet down the hall tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. His face gets lit up even brighter by the bright screen the more furrowed he kept his eyebrows rereading the text banner just making sure he is reading correctly. Expecting for another banner to pop up beneath about the message sent as an error meant for another person.

   The text box words were as clear as the sky showing off through the windows, as well as the questioning punctuation that followed afterwards. Yixing knows about his marriage, hell he had been sent an invitation. Chanyeol stopped his tracks as he reached the master doorframe peeping into the room sort of leaning forward to the opposite side. His wife slept facing the framed photos occupying her side, the sheets covering half her silky covered body.                                                            

...

  “What did you send him?” Yixing parts his lips with his widened eyes getting the phone back from Sehun but the phone keeps getting gestured from him.

 “I think Chanyeol should see Y/N. So he sees the person Y/N became after leaving her first. They’ve been apart long enough.” Yixing quirks his brow upwards. Three weeks since moving to South Korea Sehun shut the door in front of Chanyeol multiple times and his one sided anger lasted long enough for believing Sehun completely lost respect.

“This whole time I thought you hated Chanyeol. When Y/N boarded the plane, you nagged over him because he didn’t come to stop her.” Yixing says, killing a growing smirk. The phone makes a high dinging sound grabbing their chins down.

Messages

[From] Chanyeol:  Yixing, where are you and please wait about an hour. I’ll come get you.

   Sehun rolls his eyes while forcing down amused snickers thinking about suspected number of times Chanyeol must’ve received drunk texts. It made sense for the assumption about suggesting dates to a married person being drunk texting except for one you and the boys didn’t order drinks and two; Sehun’s idea comes out with pure sobeirity.

[Sent] Yixing:  I’m not drunk, thanks for asking. -_-  Can you make time in the afternoon to meet? Just dressed casually.  

“There’s always been mixed emotions towards him.”  Sehun said. “Even way before romance was building with Y/N, Chan had always been my closest friend.”

 [From] Chanyeol:   Hyung, I most definitely don’t need any dates, Somil will be shocked. You know, Somil, my wife. You remember I’m married don’t you?

     On the wedding day, Yixing attended the surprise reception during the daytime. He wore a dark gray blazer hanging open dangling beside his waist with the white crew collar unbuttoned. He had his hand in his pocket while holding a glass with the other staying in his seat until the newlyweds arrived.  

[Sent] Yixing:  Not exactly a blind date. It’s more likely an eat out. she finds you charming and wants to start off  developing friendship.

  “Sehun, with Y/N it’s easy for her to hang out,” Yixing says. “Especially now, but Chanyeol’s been working nonstop. And the holidays are the busiest times for him he doesn’t have the time. That company has become something he lives and breathes now.”

  “Baekhyun knows Chanyeol still stops by Cafe Cicero. Y/N wouldn’t have been there that long unless there’s still an ounce-” The phone rings again.

[Sent] P. Chanyeol:  Sounds more like she’s interested in a special bonus that never exist.

   The boys knew that that morning you waited while sitting and waited sitting down until you left disappointed about letting hopes high of meeting Chanyeol again. They didn’t ask that you saw Chanyeol since they assumed you’d rather not talk about nothing happening.  They knew you payed a visit there, but they were still pretty shocked how long you said the wait lasted but they didn’t see bother you hid. You arrived arms full with plastic bags filled with Christmas paper and bows along with favorite snacks for self satisfaction.

   [Sent] Yixing:  That’s why I referred you. If she impresses you, like she wants then she’ll be on the roadway to her journey already. So it’s more of a business blind date.

[From] P. Chanyeol:  Xing, since this person wants to be a superstar model, she can start off scheduling an appointment professionally. Besides scouting off the street isn’t my department, just tell her Impresa is not the love connection where the ‘charming’ boss falls for the outcast trainee out of dozens. It’s not that kind of movie.

  Sehun quirks his brow. “He indifferences reality with fictions towards us yet he’s used Japanese myths upon Y/N with him so neither would have to worry about losing their happily ever after despite there being no chance.”

 Yixing sucks on his lips and stays silent. He didn’t necessarily see a response to argue with towards that comment.

   [From] Lay: Yeol, honestly the models already working there never tried, they’d fall too far within heels trying to catch your eye.   

     The read text message turns lips further down the chin. Admittedly, that wasn’t much an insult more less a joke.

[Sent] Chanyeol:  Stay where you are, I’m heading downstairs, getting in the car, coming to get you. I’m calling Junmyeon see if he’s still awake.

Heat rushes Sehun to his head.

[Sent] Yixing: God damn it Chan honestly you’re not-just- look can’t you just see the girl?

  Now he was fully convinced Yixing isn’t drunk and literally suggests him going behind backs over for blind dating. Why was he even texting this when he went to the wedding reception? Not only Lay, his friends knew the attitude Chanyeol’s Father-in-law can get just by hearing ‘rumors’ including his normal facial expressions.

  [Sent] Chanyeol: Lay, it may have been long since we last seen each other but you haven’t woken up from a coma. I gotten married since you don’t seem to remember, so tell this girl exactly what I said before.

  “Hyung, there’s not much we can do for making Chanyeol come see us now. Even with Y/N here...it’s time for both of them to move on with their lives like they should’ve long ago. Chanyeol has to accept settling down with his wife and Y/N should wait for someone she will really fall deeply in the end.”

 “Their strings…”

   “Once myths lose their place in reality, they lose their place in the future. Once Chanyeol and Y/N lost their vow, that dispersed when he became sidetracked.”

  Yixing sinks his teeth on his bottom lip as silence replaces the dispute between them, feeling the soft shoulder rubs from Sehun’s hand. It’s most likely Chanyeol isn’t going to see you during your short visit at all. The men stood above the family sized table just in time to eat food served on hot plates. Your lips form a perfect half moon smile over you as you lift your head to both Yixing and Sehun which they return automatic grins. He nudges on Baekhyun’s elbow sitting himself down on the bench.

“Oh Sehun, Baekhyun and I are going to see this new movie coming out and we were wondering if you wanted to come?” You asked.

 “Sure, what movie is it?” 

“Murder On The Orient Express’.”

   The nineteen seventy-four film remake based off the novel starring another broadway fellow of yours seemed intriguing and their soundtrack has mixed reactions using modern music over classical yet the song was fitting enough for your taste. Surprisingly, Jongin saw the trailer before showing Baekhyun and you made plans for watching the movie. “Why did you take so long?”

  Sehun rose his brows towards Jongin asking him the question. All Sehun could say came out stuttering until Jongin suggested something that threw Sehun, Yixing and the rest of the table off. They shake their heads vigorously, “Stop it. Don’t try to bring out your extra freaky side.” You muffled your laughter seeing Jongin get punched in the rib.

....

   The cell phone stopped vibrating with popup message banners, implying the weird conversation was over so Chanyeol sets his phone on the glass table with a click. He sat still, sinking his teeth down his bottom lip before falling on his back and his rolling eyes, throwing his arms above his head   the lamps dangling from the ceiling providing the most light in the room. The condo is quiet with exception of overly repeated Christmas music playing at low volume and sheets ruffling heard from the master room. He relaxes on the couch letting his muscles stretch enjoying the momentary peace for the first time the entire month. Nobody under the model agencies knew Chanyeol until the betrothal was announced then beaming eyes adorned upon the young couple and the bride’s Father. For every special occasion; anniversaries, birthdays, New Year parties, Chanyeol received many gifts from strangers familiar and employed with his Father-in-law. Suddenly he had golden diamond watches, diamond wristlets, real leather skinned wallets. He stored the fancy crafted accessories hanging with his brand new clothes of seasonal line neatly on a clear jewelry rack rarely ever used.

    His father-in-law once gifted Chanyeol and his daughter the newest model cell phones that hadn’t been released for Chuseok. She kept her same number yet Chanyeol number did change and they were on family plan. He was shaded with his Father in Law’s glare one day when he received a quite lengthy phone bill appearing in his email, surprised with long distance calls sided next to Chanyeol’s new number. He was only mad because accordingly there’s no reason for communication with the other side of the world and his mother was Chanyeol’s only family. That was when the secret video calling was put to an end instead they began exchanging letters to each other.

  He was kinda old-fashioned with it and she can send Chanyeol her sketches she did for her spare time. She never mailed them anywhere else but his old address. The paragraphs grew longer lengthening his poems into Cathedrals, sometimes he taped flower petals atop separate index postal cards, for “lightening” up his letters.

  Every single memory are kept all in the back of his mind, cherished more as years ran with time that never healed. He wondered if you still love like he does the same way when large knots stayed off your past relationship. A love like that lacks chance with distance and forced marriage keeping pairs apart. Some reminiscing the failed attempted all-nighters which resulted sleeping anywhere in the house. 

       .....

  He had found you laying your head on scattered papers with Korean Hangul on top the kitchen counter. He remembers how the sleeves on your sweater covered your palms like the messy hair web you used for a pillow he patted with his fingers and lowered his head closer.

  “There you go drooling pools again.” As if you had heard him in your sleep, you backhanded his forehead. Once you woke up you panic over the accidental smack asking a hysterical laughing Chanyeol three times if he was okay holding his bangs down. So many events spent together were inked down the letters also he grew rose buds on his cheeks whenever he read a flirty paragraph filled with passion. Your letters were worth waiting until evening reading them until finding himself staring the dark blue sky. Some nights spent the same routine different scriptions writing nightly over unknown months that only felt timeless until one day your letters responses suddenly stopped arriving.

       He remembers standing alone the room, straightening his tuxedo vest then scanning over his physique.

  ....

  His reflection his deep brown eyes he lifted the framed photo under the lamp on his bedside table. The photo was of you, him, and, his mother standing on top a bridge when a frisk misty weather seemed liked the perfect day for hiking. In the photo Chanyeol smiled like a beacon from cheek to cheek whereas showed the fat in his eye bags that you always loved. You too smiled widely from cheek to cheek while Chanyeol wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you closer while resting his chin on his Mom’s shoulder. Like any committed pair, the hope was for life and the relationship meant a whole lot and Chanyeol knew that whenever you were together all he could think about was you. 

   Part of him thanked how you weren’t there to see him holding hands with someone who wasn’t you while another part thinking how cursed he felt having his new life with his new marriage entirely unplanned. The picture had also been taken during the time before his mother began feeling weak. He lifted his wet index finger off the glass before raising them to the bridge of his nose smudged smiles.

   The minute the wedding march began playing, guests rose from their seats for the bride to make her appearance. She looked as beautiful as she is always, even with no traditional wedding dress and all natural makeup. She stunned those of the same social class within seconds once again even Chanyeol was stunned. His fiancé held Chanyeol’s hand while signing the license and she felt warm like she was using her touch to thaw his, however his heart continued to feel frostbitten. He didn’t know if she was looking at him or if she could see the expression through his eyes, no one figured all that was happening was excessively hard for Chanyeol. He was learning well fighting his feelings keeping them hidden.

   Hours grew long once the reception officially ended, driving the SUV  into the darkest evening as he never turned away from the tinted SUV windows, though his brain clouded over the only person living in his heart. The one who wrote him beautiful castillo letters and rested her head above his shoulder for resting eyes. The one he now had to call past lover. He never tore himself away from thinking about you the entire limousine ride.

“That’s it that’s final.” He whispers aloud to himself rubbing his eyes. “Everything needs to stop, this time for good....you probably fell out of love with me Y/N.”

  ....

   Baekhyun finally puts the phone down and grips the ignition watching the red light hovered over you. You were driving to the movie theaters looking out the window at mystic wet weather. His cell phone kept ringing and he was doing his best to pay no mind at all. Anything as little as texting normally doesn’t bother you, but in South Korea texting and driving is certainly illegal and at the moment slightly more dangerous since morning news reported possible ice on the road, it got you worried. His phone chimed again and the conversation had been paused again to allow his thumbs continue skipping over the screen, luckily the car was stopped at a red light. 

  You look out the window the clouds are bunched up,  not a single speck of sun poking through, it was dull and moist from pre rainfall and the sky had three shades of gray above your heads. From dark gray, steel gray, and gainsboro gray. To you, this is a beautiful day since this sort of weather is your most favorite.      

“Sorry Y/N, this friend of mine needed advice on winning his blind date’s heart. I swear, texting isn’t in my daily driving routine but he won’t quit begging.”

  “That friend should shop for some shreds of patience for himself this Holiday season. Your life is too precious to waste in fatal car accidents.” Baekhyun chuckles, he missed your little concerns whenever the boys did something that doesn’t seem right especially when they consume too much energy drinks before work. 

  The rain kept coming and going since twilight, for the moment the rain stopped, the pavements are moist where pedestrians carried umbrellas around, some with children wearing brightly colored raincoats. He was still ears hungry about your rapid stardom success how the acting came off Broadway transitioning through the screen onto dramas and guest appearances on reality shows meeting stars through classes and mutuals. It’s like they’ll never get tired anytime soon even though you shared nearly everything your career worked on.

  The crosswalks you cruised around seemed familiar, just as much as the domain building turned your chin sideways when Baekhyun pulled into the parking spot.  “Baek, what are we doing here? Aren’t we meeting the guys at the movies?”

   He leaves the driving gear beside the ‘P’ label then the shaking stops in the passenger seat as Baekhyun tugs the keys out the ignition. He’s already waiting for you beside the entrance running his hands up and down his shivering arms soon after you quickly follow him in the cafe lobby, opening the bell ringing door. “We are, I just wanted something warm on the way. Also I need to use the restroom you go ahead and order whatever you want.”

   The line was short with only three people excluding the both of you, the place had more decorations with shiny garlands hung over the menu with ornaments on either ends and imitation snow fogging the windows from the inside. Few guests occupied the place and none of them seemed like they were rushing home. As the time was slowly fading into evening and the insane breezes made temperature drop lower minute by minute you were still rubbing your knees together to run out remaining chills shivering through your legs.

   Back over in Korea, the area still has quilts of heavy snow and revering winds, not as heavy as New York breezes though. You really enjoyed winter when it comes around as long you didn’t stay outside for too long. After ordering drinks and bags of chips you took a seat at the same table from last time beside the wall length windows. Aside from you and the few employees, across the room someone dressed in a seemingly cozy blazer stood at the other side of the room dressed neatly, tapping and fingers drawing over a tablet. He stood next to a table with  book bag and a the cell phone model laid across.

  As you rose up the chair to get your hot chocolate, your string looked brighter around your finger as did the small metallic beads below the knot. You began to wonder again, how would Chanyeol react seeing you wearing something he made himself with such meaning. Resembling fate and the love you had for each other, the tied knot that strengthened the promise of staying together.

   How many more memories are going to replay through your mind? All you have left are memories you shared with Chanyeol. The sky was no longer bright grey, now the foreground was dark enough to being nearly black. Heavy rainfall with occasional thunderstorms were looking scary standing outside getting soaked watching him fight with an umbrella.

 .... 

 “Oh my gosh, babe, can you hurry up? It’s cold.”

 “Don’t you see me going as fast as I can to get this damn button loose while my nads freezing themselves?” You did the most not allowing his attitude towards you bother too much that day cause you were reaching your point of being outside any longer. You liked cold weather but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to freeze to death. He wanted to walk through Central Park for the first beautiful spring weeks but maybe that day one of you should’ve checked the weather. Chanyeol determine to get the umbrella unstuck.

  His sleeves already drenched and water droplets hanging on his ears. A drop sped down his neck from his little baby hairs that then disappear under his sewn in hoodie. His hoodie that he probably forgot he had since he wasn’t raising over his head. You could feel your pants sticking against your thighs, your shoes started to feel flooded as the soles were squeaking.

  “Know what I’m walking inside the next nearest store. You sure you don’t want me to try?” He stops your hand reaching insisting him to try on his own. Just then black and gray swirls shot open with a pop to widen four eyes by surprise. The umbrella was open now. Chanyeol self cheers for fixing his umbrella without breaking it miraculously. Most hair on your heads curled and crunched up getting wetter by the minute. “There’s still three minutes for the bus jagiya, hold-shit!”

  The umbrella caused more problems when the shade turned inside out as wind started blowing. You released a high pitched yelp as the edges almost slapped you. Chanyeol holds the handle firmly so the umbrella would stay in them and he tries fixing another problem. “God damn it Y/N, that’s it! No more umbrellas from now on I’m using raincoats.”

  He tries fixing the umbrella again despite already getting more annoyed especially by simply standing outside during heavy rainfall getting more than soaking wet. The spokes screeched as they bumped against smooth polyester fingers pinching it as Chanyeol pressed knees held the stem. You wanted to help your boyfriend more than going inside shelter then.

“See?” Left hands at the base then lo and behold, the umbrella unfolds itself.

  “Ah! Thanks love, but we’re not shopping together anymore.” His cocky smirk felt like the ends of your hair tickling your chin when your head turn side to side. More water sprinkles upwards from the umbrella being flashed with top row of teeth before you Chanyeol bringing the smile closer.

“Really? That’s what you learned?”

  Still wet, the rain stopped over the spot and you couldn’t help the returning smile. One thing you learned that day was Park Chanyeol has had you feeling helpless with love and the skys the limit.

 ....

You shake the memories out of your head and turn to the clock checking the time. You gaze towards the hall down to the restroom, thinking what was taking him so long to use the restroom? Glancing over towards the corridor that lead the restroom while combing a curtain of your hair back. 

 ....

  His palms molded onto yours warm against creases and prints on each other you squeeze his hand  intertwined with your fingers. One second before either of you knew it, you’re walking slowly backwards, indulging on the deepening kiss, bringing locked hands close to the chest. Chanyeol held you against the wall he knew you would miss the softness of him though with him leaning into your hand like leaving longning traces of his skin. He knew you’d miss him caressing half-circles over your temples, escaping mewls leaving him blush red, his eyes burning out trails that were cut short by your thumb brushing them away. He only once slightly lifts his eyelids before fluttering them shut, using his fingers to sooth the curve on the back of your head before tangling messily in your hair. You pull away and let him lean his forehead against yours breathing for air.

 Chanyeol’s eyebrows knitted together acknowledging how much you would miss any more from him now that all of Chanyeol would no longer be yours.  

“I’m sorry.” He ghosts your lips. “I really am sorry.”

  You laid on top of your bed, listening to the similar rhythmic thumping sound while resting against Chanyeol’s chest both hugging each other’s middle tight steaming skin under the fabric of your thermal blanket.

  An unbearable pain forms in the back of your throat and right down the middle of your chest looking out the raindrops on the window. Everything around you was still, vehicles honking were inaudible through the glass windows with some tires burning. Darker shades above the sky seemed like rain would start falling soon, admiring the scene outside, trying to block the flashbacks out, holding the chairs’ back.You picked up the pace from the table to the restroom urgently. Where was your mind when the emotions in your heart are taking all control?

....

  He was messing with a lock of your hair closing and opening his eyes, there was nothing good enough to calm him down besides the position at the moment. Sleep skipped your apartment at the time, instead the moon hovered in front of a dark blue sky shining through the window. Both you thanked heavens no one else knew any of your whereabouts even with how wrong it was.

“Why won’t you say it?” He murmurs onto your forehead and you say in shortcut breaths. “I want to Yeolie…”

 “Are you okay?” Could everything be one hundred percent sure, despite standing centimeters away from you right after accidentally bumping into his side and leaving him soaked. Your feet are rooted down onto the spot holding you still.

   His mouth opens and closes like there was something he had been wanting to say. He was reflecting the same image you’re portraying wide eyed, forgetting the spill. Something wanting to come out when there are really no words. The light illuminated over his entire figure towering over you, re-enacting how high you lifted your chin to look at him. The gloss in his eyes made him seem like he was on the brink of tears and so were you.

You inhale deeply, “Chanyeol.”

“Do I know you?”

....

But you’re not mine anymore.

[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part 40

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

LOU AND MARK DRANK BEERS AT DOUBLE SHOT, the next-best local hole in the wall since Zigler’s Tavern was overrun by the ultra hip. On a Thursday night, Double Shot was busy with the perfect mixture of hipsters, frat boys and after-work stiffs. Lou and Mark liked it for its patron variety—a slice of Chicago life—the food, the affordable drink specials and the friendly waitresses.

It had been three months since Lou last saw and spoke to Michelle, but it seemed that every single conversation he and Mark had somehow led back to her. While Mark debated the benefits of L.A. and New York, Lou managed to connect Mark’s future to Michelle’s past.

“We never went to New York. We talked about it but never went. I wonder whether Michelle will move to L.A. She talked about that all the time; how she wanted to be closer to her parents and where it was warmer. Her firm has an office out there. God, wouldn’t that be weird if you and Michelle both moved to L.A.? I don’t know, I hate to think that Michelle…”

Mark slapped Lou across the face.

“What the fuck!”

“That’s it. No more.”

“No more what?”

“Every time you say her name, I’m going to smack you. Right across the face.”

“What? Michelle?” Mark slapped him again. “Oh, come on!”

“You have got to stop talking about her. You need to start moving on.”

It wasn’t that Lou was hung up on Michelle, it was that the past three years of his life had been so focused around her. She was central to everything, and it was all he had to talk about. Talking about anything before The Age of Michelle seemed entirely out of context. That’s the hardest part about breakups: finding a new definition of yourself. Since the breakup, Lou had continued sinking in a sea of whiskey and cigarette smoke while searching for that new definition among the fragments of the past three years. He didn’t talk about Michelle because he missed her; he talked about her because he didn’t know how not to.

“All right. Jesus,” Lou said. “No more Michelle.” SLAP! The sip of beer he had just taken shot out of his mouth and sprayed across the bar. “Goddammit!”

“Are you boys okay over here?” asked the cute waitress who had been serving them for the past two hours.

“We’re fine,” Mark said. “I’m just breaking my friend of a bad habit.”

“What habit would that be?”

“Talking too much,” he said.

“Okay then. Can I get you boys some more beers? It’ll help keep you quiet.” She looked at Lou and flirtatiously touched his arm. “Maybe some ice for your face?”

“Is it swelling up? Jesus, Mark.”

“No, sweetie, it’s fine. I’m just teasing you. Another round?”

“Yes, please,” Mark said.

“Did you see that? She was flirting with me,” Lou said.

“She flirts with everyone. That’s how she makes her money. Be careful of waitresses and female bartenders. They care less about you than strippers and work twice as hard to get you to like them.”

When she returned with the beers a few moments later, Lou asked her name.

“Niki,” she said.

“Niki, you are the best waitress we’ve ever had here. And we’re here all the time. Are you new?”

“Nope. I’ve been here about a year.”

“How is it possible that we’ve never seen you before?”

“I usually work the day shift. I have another waitressing job across town.”

“I guess we’ll have to start coming in here for lunch.”

“You’re getting creepy,” Mark said.

Niki smiled. “No, he’s fine. But unfortunately, this is my last day. I start a new job tomorrow.”

“Another bar?” Lou asked.

“Nope. A real, big-girl job. I’m going to be an assistant editor for a magazine.”

Lou’s eyes grew wide. “How about that,” Mark said.

“Which magazine?”

“Chicago Style.”

“Sure! I know that rag. It’s all society and fashion and travel.”

“That’s the one,” she said.

“You use freelancers?”

“Of course. That’s how I got the job.”

“Well, look I’m a writer, and if it’s okay I’ll send you some pitches, and you can throw some work my way, or both.” He dug into his wallet and pulled out a sad-looking homemade business card.

“Oh, that’s great! We’re getting ready to start putting together the next issue, so yeah, we’ll need some good story ideas. I’ll definitely email you.”

She asked if she could get them anything else at the moment, then returned to her other tables.

“Don’t let anyone ever tell you that nothing good comes out of drinking yourself stupid in a bar,” Lou said.

“You got a story in mind?”

“I don’t know. I did a little blog writing for a minute a while back for this interior-design guy. He does some pretty interesting stuff. Could be something there.” Mark gave him a look of uncertainty. “Hey, it’s not a column in Vanity Fair, but it’s a gig. And it’s a writing gig. Step by step. This wouldn’t have happened if I were still with Mich…” Mark raised his hand. “This wouldn’t have happened if I were still with What’s-her-face.” Mark took hold of his beer glass and raised it up in a toast. Lou did the same. “Shots?”

✶

LOU WAS ABLE TO WRITE HIS STORIES FOR CHICAGO STYLE AT THE SHEET-METAL SHOP since business was so slow—the economy had affected the construction industry, as well; America as a whole, was on hold. The editor in chief loved his first piece on the interior designer. When the magazine hit the stands, Lou grabbed a free copy from one of the kiosks on the street. Seeing his name in a byline again made him feel incredible, like he belonged to the huddled masses. He went home that night and sent an email to every other Chicago magazine editor he could think of with clips of his stuff, including his most recent piece, asking them to keep him in mind for any assignments they have lying around and to forward their editorial calendars along so he could create story pitches to fit with each editor’s plan.

The work slowly came in. There wasn’t a magazine for which he wouldn’t write. There was Chicago Style, Chicago Brides, Chicago Agent, a rag for real estate agents about the real estate business, Avenue Magazine, a high-end society glossy, which seemed to exist solely for the city’s wealthy elite to be able to read stories about themselves. The stories were fluff pieces, advertorial junk, restaurant, bar and hotel reviews, travel stories about golf courses, and B & Bs that he never had visited, profiles of the movers and shakers throughout Chicagoland. It wasn’t the kind of writing for which he wanted to be known when he died, but he was racking up a few extra hundred bucks a month. Lou was back in the game.

And then he received an email from the HR manager at a small marketing/advertising agency called Spark. It did a lot of packaging, product development and brand marketing. The HR manager said she was looking for a copywriter to add to the team. She said she found his résumé on ProCore.

Holy shit, he thought. ProCore actually worked.

The company’s office was located in the West Loop in an old loft building that used to house the world’s leading casket manufacturer. His interview was held inside of a small conference room that had been where the oven that dried the casket’s wood stain had been. The room’s door was a giant metal fire door that required an inordinate amount of effort to open and close it. Lou liked the old industrial look of the office. It inspired the idea of manufacturing creativity—blood and sweat of the mind rather than with the body.

He had called in sick to Don at the shop so he could attend the interview. He managed to avoid drinking anything the night before to make sure he was at his best for the interview. It took him twenty minutes to fix his tie since he wanted to get it perfect. He styled his hair three different ways before settling on the way he usually wore it; casually combed over. Nothing could be out of place. Lou had to give the impression of his life. And he did. Despite his tendency to joke himself out of countless good situations when important matters were on the line, Lou charmed and impressed the HR manager. She pulled in the agency’s creative director, a friendly and confident guy named Ted, to meet with Lou. Ultimately, Lou’s employment was Ted’s decision and after an hour-long conversation, Lou had the job.

The smile never left Lou’s face as he rode the bus back to the apartment. The HR manager was at first impressed with his wide range of experience. Ted was looking for a clever mind to join the small creative team at Spark, which was made up of Ted and two designers. The crash had hurt the agency, and Ted was well aware that his may be the only one hiring creatives, but for it to survive, he said, it needed to provide its remaining clients with the best work possible and be ready when more work began coming in. That, and he wanted a writer who was going to approach the work from a different perspective. Ted was tired of working with copywriters who had spent their careers in advertising and who prayed daily to the almighty power of the Apple brand. Lou’s inexperience as an agency writer was a benefit. The compilation of his media, marketing, corporate communications and journalism was ideal. His starting salary was sixty thousand dollars a year, more than he’d ever made. He would begin as soon as he could gracefully walk away from the sheet-metal shop.

It was late afternoon when he got home, and he was excited to call Don, apologize for lying about being sick, admit to going on an interview and let him know that he would work another two weeks while Don found a replacement estimator. But first, he called Chuck to share the good news. Someone answered in Spanish, and Lou’s gut twisted as he remembered that Chuck wasn’t answering phone calls anymore. He quickly hung up and called me while he poured himself a glass of scotch.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38

[mrsteveecook]

what should I do when a see a coworker’s fly is down, can I review a rude interviewer, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. What should I do when I notice a coworker’s fly is down?

What should I do when I notice a coworker’s fly is down? A colleague stopped by my office to chat, and I noticed that his fly was open. I felt too awkward to say anything in the moment, yet later I agonized over whether I should have addressed it. If he had a piece of spinach between his teeth, I’d have no problem mentioning it, but since it was the zipper on his pants I didn’t say anything. What do I do? Pretend I don’t notice? Tell him to “XYZ” (examine your zipper)? Should my approach change based on the gender and seniority of the coworker? Or am I totally overthinking it, and a simple “Hey Zach, your fly is down” will do every time?

In this particular case, he is a peer, we’re friends, and it was in the semi-privacy my office. I wondered if it would have better for me to casually advise him to zip up in case he happened to meet with the managers in our office before he noticed, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

Additionally, the other day I bled onto my dress while I was on my period and no one mentioned it. I was mortified when I found out, but I can understand why my coworkers would shy away from alerting me to my wardrobe malfunction/leaky tampon (even though I wish someone had said something). Is that the same or different?

As long as you’re matter of fact about it and don’t make it a big deal, most people will be grateful for a quick, straightforward “Hey, I think your zipper is down.” I think you can do that regardless of gender and regardless of seniority — people will generally appreciate the heads-up regardless, as long as it’s not accompanied by leering or blushing or staring or anything else that makes it weird. Use the same tone you’d use to say “Watch out, there’s a mosquito on your arm” and it should be fine. (That said, some people will just never feel comfortable telling someone like the CEO that her fly is down. That is part of the price of being the CEO.)

With the bleeding, ideally someone would have discreetly told you about it, but yeah, more people are going to be weird about that than about zippers. But bless the kind people who have it in them to discreetly say, “Hey, I’m not sure if you know that you have a stain on your dress.”

2. Can I get blackballed for posting a negative review on Glassdoor?

Is it possible to get blackballed for posting a negative interview review on Glassdoor?

In this situation, the hiring manager called me at 6 p.m. on a Monday without notice. I said I couldn’t speak then because I was about to run out the door. She asked if I could call her back and I said I didn’t have availability the next day (due to having to travel five hours for another interview and the interview itself — but why do I have to explain this to someone? It’s perfectly rational to be busy), but I did have availability Wednesday morning. Here she kind of cut me off to say, “Actually I think I’m going to pass on this, we’re looking for someone actually interested in getting a job.”

I was so stunned that a professional said this to a potential candidate that I just said “Okay, thanks” and hung up the phone. And, I mean, I guess it was good for being so direct, but calling me at 6 p.m. after working hours when I would obviously be caught off-guard by an employer, and then getting frustrated with me when I’m busy because I’m actively interviewing other places is a bit insane. Or am I overreacting and maybe It’s my fault for being so flustered when she called? I just felt so angry about her telling me I wasn’t serious about getting a job when obviously she doesn’t know me or anything about what I’m doing. I’m just nervous about posting it on Glassdoor even thought I think the company should know an employee is speaking to people like this.

Wow, she was wildly out of line. You weren’t saying you couldn’t speak for weeks and weeks. You said you couldn’t speak at that exact moment (totally fine) and that you were fully booked the following day, but offered to speak the morning after that. That’s not necessarily ideal if they’re looking to fill interview slots quickly, but if it posed a problem for her, she could have just said, “Unfortunately that won’t fit with our timeline, so it sounds like it won’t work out this time.” Instead she chose to be an ass.

You should be fine posting this on Glassdoor. She may figure out who you are, but it’s highly unlikely that she’s going to blackball you from other employers for it. (It does mean, though, that you may never get an interview at that particular company again — so if you care about that, proceed with more caution.

3. My coworker’s students told me she doesn’t teach them anything

I work for a welfare-to-work program, running a job readiness program. I recently started handling more of the case management aspects of the program while a new coworker took over the instruction portion of the program. The coworker called out for the past week and I went back to instructing class. I was amazed to discover that the students hadn’t actually been taught any lessons for the past three weeks; this is significant because the class runs in four-week cycles. I crammed as much possible in the four days that I covered.

I am extremely bothered by the fact that my coworker apparently, per the students, doesn’t actually teach them anything but rather sits around watching YouTube with them four hours per day. I don’t know how to approach my manager, who is also new, about this. My concern is that we are grant funded and will not get future financing if the the students don’t reach the progress marks they’re required to. How does one approach their manager about a coworker who doesn’t do their job, being that it affects my job greatly, and about fearing that our program is being seriously jeopardized?

Just be direct and matter-of-fact: “I covered classes for Jane four days last week, and something happened that I need to pass on to you. The students told me they hadn’t been taught any lessons for the previous three weeks. They said that Jane watches YouTube with them instead of teaching lessons. I obviously don’t know if this is true, but I felt like I needed to flag it for you.” You could add, “Based on my time with them, it does seem like they hadn’t learned X, Y, or Z, which is a requirement of our grant funding being renewed.”

In other words, just the facts. No conclusions about Jane, just “here’s what I was told and what I observed, and it could have serious ramifications because…”

4. How can I avoid telling people where I’m going when I resign?

I work in an industry niche that really worries about trade secrets and proprietary information and such. Old job and new job are in the same niche. To be emphatically clear, I will not be bringing anything — anything — proprietary to my new employer. All the same, I worry there might be people at my current employer who are just crazy/vindictive enough that, if they knew, or could guess, where I was going, might do something to spook my new employer and/or jeopardize my offer. (I know what tortious interference is, but I’m not sure they do, is what I’m saying, and I don’t want a lawsuit, I want a job!)

Any advice on how to handle my resignation to minimize my risk? Can I resign without telling people where I’m going? I realize I could just say “it’s between me and my rabbi” or whatever, but my niche is small enough that the folks I’m worried about might see it as code and start guessing or sniffing around. I don’t want to flat out lie and say I didn’t know where I was going, or name another company. Is there an ethical way to throw people off the scent, at least until day one at new job?

Some options: * “I don’t want to jinx it until the details are finalized, but I’ll let you know as soon as I’m allowed to talk about it!” * “I’m not quite ready to announce it yet, but I’ll let you know when it’s finalized.” * “I’m still working out the details but should be able to share it soon.”

5. Should I re-contact this reference?

A few months ago, I received my first post-grad school job offer, after more than a year of job hunting. Once I accepted the offer, I emailed three people I’ve been using as references to let them know. Two responded right away with congratulations, but I haven’t heard from the third, and it’s been nearly three months. He receives a truly enormous amount of email and I know in the summer he does field work in places with spotty internet, so I’m not offended! But I was wondering at what point I should send him a second email? I’ve known him for five or six years at this point, so I’d like to think he would be interested on a personal level — but also I’d just like him to know that my long (looooooong) job hunt is over, and how much I appreciate the several times he gave a reference for me in that period.

I’m horrible at “networking” — or any casual contact with a person who is/was in a position of authority over me. So I’m unlikely to do the casual keeping-in-contact emails I know others do, which means realistically, it’s entirely possible that I’ll never see or talk to him again. (I know this is a whole separate problem.) But even so, I’d absolutely hate to leave things like this after I know (because I’ve been told so by interviewers!) that he gave such a glowing reference!

He may not think any response is required! Yes, ideally he’d send back a quick congratulations email, but it’s very likely that as a busy person with a lot of email, he saw your message, thought “that’s great news,” and moved on to the next email. He probably has no idea that you’re waiting to hear back from him! I’d just assume he saw the email and this particular interaction has been completed.

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[dudence-blog]

Dear Dudence for 5 October 2017

It’s the start of the ALDS and the Astros are up on the Red Sox 8-2 in the top of the 9th.  To celebrate this it’s time to enjoy a St. Arnold’s and get on to answering the people seeking help from Prudence!

My 15-year-old daughter is a freshman in high school and has her first serious boyfriend. They are both star athletes, honor students, nondrinkers, and really nice kids. I love it that they are starting this new adventure in the dating scene together. He is a year older than she is and occasionally drives her around town. He is black, and she is white. What, if anything, should I say to her about traffic stops?

Dear Concerned Mom, Newdie did a great job informing us of the risks inherent to be a black person in America.  I think we are all owe a debt of gratitude to the late 20s white woman for explaining to us about the horrors of institutional racism. While we are grateful for her enlightening point of view based on her extensive experience, she did a pretty damn poor job of answering the question you asked.  What you’re asking about isn’t really dating advice; it is advice for situations across a wide spectrum of activities.  You’re not being a “crazy white mom” to talk with your child (who will soon be driving age herself) about how to react when, not if, she is stopped by the police.  It has nothing to do with you being worried that her boyfriend is going to get profiled, it has to do with the fact if you drive long enough you’re going to get stopped.  When stopped, whether as the driver or passenger, tell her to remain calm, be polite, keep your hands visible, and don’t interfere with the police.  Follow the instructions from the officer, and if she receives conflicting instructions stop and ask for clarification.  Most importantly try not to make the situation worse.  A good thing to keep in mind is that she is dealing with someone is one of the few people society has given the authority to initiate the use of force, including lethal force.  Even if the police are completely in the wrong, they pulled her boyfriend over because he’s black and they are being awful people abusing their authority on the street while stopped is not the place where the problem can be addressed.  Heck, it might not be able to be addressed elsewhere because life just ain’t fair, but it certainly can’t be addressed there at the point of friction.  The police officer is not going to hear a teenage girl tell him “you are, like, totally wrong to be stopping him and you’re only stopping him because he’s black!” and respond with “You know what Kindra, you’re right.  I was mistaken, here is your license sir.  Please drive safely.”  Have the conversation with your daughter about how, because of her boyfriend’s race, it is possible he’s going to be unjustly targeted by police.  That it’s “not okay” for that to happen, and that you and your family, as decent people want to do everything you can to combat that attitude.  Heck, if you want to have a conversation with your daughter about the wider issues of racism in society, how her privilege as the child of wealthy parents living in an upper class neighborhood means she’s the cause of all of society’s ills, knock yourself out.  But that is separate from the issue of “what to do if you’ve just been stopped by police”.

My husband and I have been preparing to adopt a baby from “Anita” for six months. We’ve paid Anita’s medical bills and an allowance so Anita didn’t have to work too hard during her final trimester. She’s due in six weeks, and we discovered by accident that at some point she’d changed her mind. Anita will be keeping her baby. It’s a devastating but not unexpected loss. My husband and I wish Anita well, because we want her baby to succeed, but we also want to sever our relationship with her.

Dear Paying for Baby, that is quite the gut-punch.  Anita’s mother can lob all the accusations she wants, that doesn’t mean she’s correct.  Regardless of whether you and your husband could afford to keep financing Anita’s pregnancy while pursuing another adoption option, it wouldn’t be heartless for you to stop.  Anita and your family had an agreement and she has reneged on her end of the agreement.  You’re under no obligation to continue and don’t let BadPru’s habit of ignoring information you provide in your letter guilt you into considering something against your short and long term interests..  If you were working with a lawyer I’d recommend speaking with them about terminating your support, and if you’re not working with one I’d recommend getting one who’s experienced in family law and adoption.  As for BadPru’s assumption you’re working either independently or with a disreputable agency, you can tell her to pound sand.  It’s not like “mother putting baby up for adoption changes her mind” is a wholly unheard of event within “reputable” adoption services.

I have a weird etiquette question: I was in an abusive marriage for a decade, and after we split, I had to distance myself from both my social and professional circles because we worked in the same industry. I’m very healthy and happy now. Recently, I’ve started to fold a few previous connections back into my life. Nobody has any idea how bad the abuse was, or why we divorced, and I still have to see my ex on occasion.

Dear No Polite Way to Say This, I’m not sure which is the weird etiquette part.  Is it where you’re not sure how much you want to reveal about the circumstances of your divorce or is it the part where you think people want to hear the details of the circumstances of your divorce?  That you’re asking about “etiquette” makes me think you’re looking for advice when dealing with more casual acquaintances; co-workers, peers within the industry, etc.  “Oh you know Elaine too?  Yes, we were married, but we divorced a few years ago,” for most people standing around at an industry convention that would be enough information.  If you want to invite follow-up questions then say it wasn’t amicable.  If we’re talking about a more intimate relationship; say a friend who knows the both of you, then it’s really going to be limited to what you’re comfortable discussing.  “Yes, Elaine and I had a very troubled marriage, it got really bad towards the end and I left.”  I will advise you that if you get into discussing your spouse’s abuse it’s going to get back to them and you’re going to open-up a whole new realm of social-etiquette fun.  Counter-accusations, justifications, side-choosing, etc.  While Newdie thinks it isn’t the case some people will be put off by your revealing the unpleasant details of your marriage, Newdie has a well-established history of being shockingly ignorant of how people can interact in a work environment (seriously, the new hire wanting a window view is a reasonable idea?!!?).  There are people in your professional and casual social circles who will be put-off by your “over-sharing”.  It’s going to put some people in a position where they feel obligated to distance themselves from either your ex or you.  It’s not fair, it’s probably not how it should be, but the world doesn’t deal in “should”.  I’m glad you’re doing well now and I wish you the best of luck in retaking some of those parts of your life.

I’ve known my friend “B” for around five years. We met as students and had a wonderful companionship through school and still remain close. The only problem is her escalating interest in the cast of a television show, particularly one male actor. It began with a minor interest in the show while we were students. She was going through a rough time personally and began watching; over the years, she has become so obsessed with one of the lead actors that she now spends thousands of dollars to go to conventions across the country, attends related events, and generally finds reasons to be in his neighborhood. They have “coincidentally” met several times, and he was rude to her on multiple occasions. This is only a fraction of what B has done to research, stalk, and meet this actor, who is twice her age. He now recognizes her.

Dear Caught Up in Fandom, a dude dressing up as a surprisingly convincing Super Girl might be caught up in fandom.  Your friend blew past that and went off the cliff into “creepy shrine” territory a while ago.  Your friend has a problem, and today I learned there is a whole spectrum of problems dealing with people who become obsessed with a celebrity.  As for your actual question, I’m not a fan of ghosting.  There are situations where it’s the least bad option, but people generally deserve to the respect that comes from saying “hey, it’s been fun but we’re just after different things; you’re not interesting, etc”.  Other friends have told B that her behavior is disturbing and driving them away, so it’s not like she hasn’t been made aware how people people.  Maybe she’s not putting 1 and 1 together, but she probably is.  I think you should tell your friend what her actions have been doing to you and why you’re going to cut her out of your life.  If you want to leave the line open to reconnect in the future that’s your prerogative.

I have been with my husband for five years. He is attentive, kind, thoughtful, and attractive, which are all qualities that make him appealing to other women. Four years ago he cheated on me, and I found out almost immediately after the affair started. He showed remorse, we went to counseling, and I decided to stay with him. Since the affair, I check his Facebook, emails, phone calls, and texts regularly. It’s obviously insane and has become somewhat of an obsession. I have attempted counseling but this hasn’t stopped or curbed my snooping. I am just waiting to catch him again and feel that it’s only a matter of time before he strays.

Dear Husband Monitor, you should probably attempt counseling again.  Try a different therapist.  I don’t know what, if anything, there is about you which screams “cheat on me”.  To say “because you believe they will and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy” is tempting, but unfair and not very helpful.  Long-term relationships do end, and the infidelity at the end of your previous relationships might have been a symptom rather than a cause.  Eventually you’re going to need to have a talk with your husband about your feelings here.  You’re not clear about whether he’s aware you’re checking up on him, so I’m going to assume he isn’t.  That is probably going to be an unhappy conversation because it involves a pretty significant breach of trust (whether it is as bad as cheating in a marriage is a debate I’ll leave to the philosophers).  You’re going to need to talk with him about your feelings, why you are so anxious and suspicious, and whether it is reasonable.  Your snooping on him doesn’t seem to be helping you, and you don’t refer to anything other than your history as to why he will eventually stray.  It might be time to let him out of the doghouse, and that forgiveness might have the added benefit of giving yourself the permission to trust again.  I know how hard it can be to put your trust and faith into someone, and how much, much harder it is to restore those feelings after they’ve been betrayed.  But holding on to that isn’t doing you any good.  

I am a casual Spanish speaker—I can understand a good bit of what I hear and read, but have more difficulty speaking it. My mom, bless her, thinks I am fluent. Normally, this isn’t a problem. She might call sometimes with a question about something she heard on TV or about something on a menu, but that’s it. Recently though, something happened that made me uncomfortable. She had some furniture delivered, and the men who dropped it off spoke Spanish. She wanted me to give them instructions in Spanish, and I told her it wasn’t necessary, as it was obvious they also spoke English.

Dear Not Your Translator, after you follow NuPru’s advice and lecture your mother about her racism, then delve into just what drove her to those thoughts, you should grab a cup of hot chocolate and talk about health insurance.  You don’t need to be racist to be irrational.  Maybe your mom is uber racist, maybe she is just normally racist or maybe she isn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact it can be off-putting to be left outside a conversation happening in front of you because you don’t sprich die sprach.  There’s also nothing wrong with you informing her you’re not comfortable eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation.  Heck, go ahead and let her know you think it’s rude for her to ask you to do so.  But you can set your boundaries while also assuaging her concerns; let her know that if you do hear anything untoward you’ll address it and then don’t.  She gets what she wants: she’s comforted by knowing you’re listening in.  You get what you want: you’re not having to listen in.  The work crew gets what they want: to do their job while talking about the ignorant woman and he dumbass child.  It’s a Win-Win-Win!

[frettboard2016-blog]

Are you guilty of blindly trusting your cellphone Online apps?

New Post has been published on https://frettboard.com/are-you-guilty-of-blindly-trusting-your-cellphone-online-apps/

Are you guilty of blindly trusting your cellphone Online apps?

How a lot do you accept as true with your telephone?

People have entered an unprecedented age of a generation, and it’s the elements of trust, the ‘robust multidimensional box’ which need to be measured, researchers at Southern Cross University have stated.

This problem of considering between customers and their phones pass is a focus for Southern Cross University researcher Michael Bryant, who has been analyzing the usage of climate apps on the phone.

With maximum apps comes long terms and conditions that consist of the capability to the song our every flow, so it is a marvel a lot of us tap ‘agree’ without a second concept, Mr. Bryant stated.

“A lot of humans used to concentrate to the radio for climate updates, however now all that facts is of their pockets.”

He stated many people traded away their private facts due to the fact climate apps had been beneficial.

“People find that permitting location services on their climate apps is in particular advantageous as real-time records from nearby weather towers,” he stated.

Often downloaded apps now not handiest require get entry to the person’s location, however additionally their contact lists, access to emails and other private information.

“If you without a doubt stopped to examine the disclaimers, sometimes weather apps request get entry to to things including touch lists, data which could, in reality, be used and offered again to 0.33 events along with advertisers,” Mr. Bryant stated.

“Some agencies and U.S. Government organizations have retained statistics within the past. There changed into that entire ‘Candy Crush Saga’ wherein the popular gaming app becomes said to be ‘leaky’ with personal statistics which becomes a privateness and security trouble.”

More specifically, how a whole lot do you believe the apps to your cell phone?

Mr. Bryant is amongst other contributors of Southern Cross University who’re looking to discover if humans wholeheartedly agree with the information, the companies of the app and the phone itself.

Building Loyalty Online Is a Real Challenge, Regardless of What the Gurus Tell You!

The truth is that building loyalty online is not quite as easy as the professionals make it out to be. You’re competing with masses, if not tens of lots of blogs and websites (maximum of which are alas, polluting the net).

Getting people to stumble onto your website is noticeably smooth. However if your jump rate is eighty%, and your site is simply any other one of the heaps of time-honored websites imparting not anything more than regurgitated content, you will be bragging approximately excessive visitors on empty pockets.

Here are a few observations, from my stories in attempting to build online loyalty from my readers. I’ve found that Internet customers have a weird brief attention span!

They’ll study your article and while they’re performed, will click lower back to the quest engine and won’t recall your website. I too am guilty of that. Many times I’ll click on of a site after studying an editorial, and for the existence of me, can’t don’t forget the website I’ve simply visited.

Many times I may be interested in the article itself, however now not the general site topic. So I’ll study the thing and push aside the site online altogether – never to go back.

The solution, I assume, is to choose your subject matter cautiously, and handiest upload articles which are specific and entirely associated with your theme. Building on-line loyalty requires you to find a way of enticing your reader beyond sincerely reading your story. Example: allow the user go to your profile web page to look if they have some affinity with you.

I’ve found that Internet users commonly need the whole lot for not anything.

It’s not possible to construct loyalty online from casual visitors for your website. The vast majority of your visitors are selfish. They do not suggest to be; it’s simply the way it is online. They’ll go to your website, read the material and download free reports – then they may be long past, in no way to be seen again.

Building loyalty on-line is centered on accepting as true with, and agree with is earned, no longer received. You clearly aren’t going to gain your tourists agree with by way of posting more than one articles on a website (I wish it had been that easy).

The key, I suppose, is to be continual. Keep posting useful articles associated with your area of interest or subject. Expect this to be a sluggish painful Avenue, with little to show for it, until you get to at the least a hundred satisfactory articles.

I’ve learned to avoid all of the social media hype.

That doesn’t suggest you must keep away from social media. But with so much hype surrounding social media, it takes a conscious effort to see past it.

The entire factor of social media is to have interaction your readers and persuade them to attach or observe you (don’t fall into the mistake of trying to sell, to your followers or connections). That’s not the cause of social media. If you peddle stuff on social media, you will be assured to lose your original fans and be left with the spammers.

I trust that apps will overtake seek within the no longer too remote destiny.

Nothing beats an app to build online loyalty together with your readers. This will, in my opinion, present a hassle to sites that depend solely on a look for their traffic. The use of smartphones is developing at phenomenal tempo. Most human beings I realize spend more time on their smart telephones and tablets than on their laptops. They’re not just on Twitter and Facebook, they have downloaded apps for hotel and airline bookings, neighborhood seeks apps for electricians and plumbers, apps in their favorite blogs. (Soon you’ll be able to download an app for your favorite MEP Construction and Engineering blog ). With the number of apps available, I discover that human beings are spending much less and much less time on search engines -they don’t need to look anymore (they have an app for it)!