#did someone order some uhhhhh fluff

[aliferous-ly]

I've never really asked for a drabble before... If it's okay with you, could you do 7 "I almost lost you" and 32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Logan and Deceit? I just kinda thought that it had the potential to make some angst with a happy ending. Oh and I only found you recently, but I love the writing that I've seen so far. I always love finding amazing writers. (I'm sorry, I'm a total suck up)

im gonna start this with if you’re on mobile, i am So Sorry

i started this and was like “ha im getting a little carried away” and then went “oh no” 

and thank u dear!! that’s v sweet of u awe 

summary: Declan is a loud and proud aromantic. Then he realizes why he feels weird, and off, and awkward around his best friend, Logan, and his world starts to crumble. 

warnings: f word twice, lying, parent being imprisoned, angst, questioning identity, if there’s anything else lmk!!

It starts, Declan thinks, when Logan smiles. 

The situation starts out innocuous -- they’re sitting in Logan’s room, Declan tossing a tennis ball up and catching it unsuccessfully, making a right disaster of Logan’s room with all the objects he keeps knocking to the floor. Logan, naturally, continues doing his homework. 

And they’re just -- talking. 

Declan likes to think his world should shift on a more momentous occasion, maybe with fireworks, fingers brushing against one another dramatically, Jason Mraz playing in the background. 

But it’s the smallest thing. Declan throws the tennis ball up in the middle of his sentence -- “You can’t tell me you hate white pines, they have the softest needles” -- and he misses it on the way down. 

So he takes a tennis ball to the face and sits up, sputtering, rubbing at his nose, arm reaching out to snatch it before it rolls too far. 

Logan chokes out a laugh, eyes squinty and wrinkled at the edges. His laugh fills the room for a few thrilling moments and Declan thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and he can’t stop staring at Logan’s engaging face, in the upturn of his lips and dimples carved in his cheeks. 

He’s radiant. 

Declan’s heart squeezes, lungs filling with something heavier than air, a foreign feeling washing through his veins. Like rose petals or sunlight. Woodsmoke or freshly fallen snow. 

The gears in his chest shift and settle and he feels… right. More right than he’s ever been. 

Which is, of course, why fear swiftly follows this gorgeous wash of emotions, because this is unusual and anything unusual is often bad. 

Declan forces down the incoming wave of anxiety, schooling his expression into one of smooth disdain. 

Just in time, too, because Logan opens his mouth and says, “It was only a matter of time until you paid for your crimes.”

“I’m too pretty to die,” Declan replies, thanking the heavens that while his brain may be steadily turning into mush (have Logan’s eyes always been that striking? Or his shoulders that broad?) his tongue still works. 

“Implying Death themself has a type, intriguing,” Logan says. He flashes a look over his computer, the after effects of joy still written on his features. “Bold of you to declare what Death likes.” 

Declan tries for a smirk but can feel the way his mouth turns to genuine grin, the traitor. “Aw, Logie, are you saying I’m not everyone’s type?” 

“That would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?” Logan says wryly. He types away at his computer, dutiously finishing an English assignment that Declan is currently ignoring for bigger and better things. “The aromantic everyone pines over.” 

That strikes an odd chord in Declan’s chest, like he’s a half-tone off; not quite wrong, but not quite right, either. His expression must change, because Logan pauses in his typing. He blinks at Declan. “Something wrong?” 

Of course, that’s when Declan’s brain decides that those words are simply too much, too much, his shoulders tightening, back tensing. It’s like his rib cage is squeezing his vital organs, which seems rather counterintuitive. He hates this unknown, this awkward buzz against his skin, the prickling feeling through his bones. 

The resounding crash of everything happening all at once is overwhelming and Declan can’t seem to decide whether to sit as still as humanly possible or bolt. 

Or, of course, do what he does best. 

Lie. 

“I forgot to do something for my mom,” Declan says, barely registering the words before they fall from his lips. He hasn’t lied to Logan in a very, very long time (he knows it’s because they have been best friends for ages, but his mind twists it into something of a foreshadow, even though it’s not, it’s not) and the resurgence of his bad habits leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but. Desperate times. Desperate measures. 

“Oh,” Logan says, disappointed, and Declan longs to explain -- what? 

He angrily shoves the emotions deep into his chest. If he can’t explain them, he’s not going to give them the right of control over his actions. 

(He ignores the prevalent fact that he has just lied to his best friend in order to escape his presence, but denial, evidently, is not just a river in Egypt). 

“Sorry,” Declan spits out, meaning so much more than it seems. He stands, grabs his backpack, shoving papers and folders into it haphazardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Logan calls out hollowly. Declan takes that as his leave and he slips out Logan’s bedroom door, backpack in tow, keys clicking in his pocket. 

Something deep inside him aches. But he doesn’t know why. 

Frustrated, Declan gets into his car and slams the door shut, fingers white-knuckled against the steering wheel. He takes a breath. He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s probably just sick, or something. 

Or something. 

Not for the first time, Declan longs for a working aux connection. 

Because flicking through radio stations does not help. 

Lewis Capaldi croons Someone you loved on one, Sam Smith singing Dancing with a Stranger. He woefully flips through two channels on commercial break, groaning when the last one has Adele, which, really?

He remembers Virgil’s favorite station, and turns up the volume to forty, My Chemical Romance’s Mama screaming from his speakers. He pulls into his driveway with Hallelujah by Panic! at the Disco blowing his ears out when he remembers that Logan once spent hours rambling about Brenden Urie and a conspiracy about curses and he slams his palms on his steering wheel, furious. 

Can he not escape Logan for a moment? 

As Declan slams the car door shut, throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and freezes at the sight of the stupid Beware, dog sign that Logan had vandelized to read Beware, snake, he realizes that no, he really can’t. Because Logan is his best friend, his favorite person, and his life is irreversibly intertwined with Logan unless he up and leaves with absolutely nothing, starting from scratch. Which would be worse than death. 

He trudges up the stairs like a funeral dirge and when his door shuts with a click he leans against it, steadily sliding down until his knees almost touch his chin. 

“Fuck,” Declan says out loud, unable to keep the emotion termoil inside like it should be. 

His phone buzzes where it fell from his hands, angry against the carpet. Declan sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. And picks up the phone. 

There’s one text from Logan that reads, “are you okay? I’m not irritated but you left rather…” 

Well. The beginning reads as such. Declan assumes there’s more, but he’s unwilling to open it for the time being. 

Then he has three from Virgil, two of which reference an obscure meme video and the third which reads “r u home i wanna play dark souls on ur ps4”. 

And there’s a text from Patton asking if he wants normal chocolate chips or mint ones, and a followup that proclaims “never mind i got both! :3c”. 

He sends a quick “no” back to Virgil and merely opens the texts from Patton, leaving only Logan’s unopened. I’m not irritated but you left rather… suddenly? 

A strange emotion flutters about Declan’s chest and he groans. He doesn’t feel this way about his other friends, not even Virgil, who he’s known for ages and has gone through four too many devastating arguments to not be close with. Nor does he feel like this with Patton, his brother. Those bonds are, he’s certain, platonic--

Declan lurches forwards with a gasp, the realization bowling him over and leaving him breathless. He curls his fingers into the carpet, focusing on the texture instead of the immediate swirl of panic. 

He -- does he have a crush on Logan? Him, Declan, the aromantic king, who once boasted the world could never produce a human Declan could fall in love with?

And it doesn’t track with him falling for Logan either because Declan would have loved him months earlier, suddenly falling in love with someone he’s loved platonically… it just doesn’t make sense. Declan can’t wrap his mind around it. 

Maybe he’s just reading the emotions wrong. How can he -- what can he do that -- which -- 

What would Logan do? 

An experiment, Declan’s mind supplies helpfully, so, well. Declan pressed his back against the wood of his door and thinks. 

Hypothesis: he’s in love with Logan. 

In love? A very rational part of his brain yells. You were talking about a crush before!

So Declan thinks, and revises. Hypothesis: he’s feeling romantic attraction to Logan. 

Then he takes a few minutes trying to remember the following step in the scientific method and ends up looking it up on his phone, and it’s really long so he’s just going to cut some corners. 

Procedure: 

Well, Declan can’t think of any way to do this physically without making an entire fool of himself, so he changes the experiment into a thought experiment. 

Procedure: Consider emotions of other relationships and compare to feelings for Logan. 

Okay. Declan settles. He considers. He tries to imagine holding hands with Virgil and giving him flowers, but he can’t really picture giving Logan flowers either, so if it’s weird for both -- but he wants to hold Logan’s hand, not Virgil’s, and sometimes Patton’s, and Patton is his brother, he knows for sure his emotions are strictly platonic. So if Patton is the control group, the certainty of platonic emotions, Virgil is the one with normal emotions, and Logan has some weird emotions, so if Virgil and Logan’s are merely two different shades of friendship then Declan will know. 

Declan closes his eyes and imagines kissing Logan, because that’s what romantic partners do, right? He imagines stepping closer to him until there’s inches of space between them.. Declan thinks about leaning in, brushing lips before pressing in, heat curling in his chest and oh god, oh god Declan’s face is on fire. 

His eyes shoot open and he can only imagine how panicked he must look right now. He presses his hand against his chest, taking deep breaths. Then, reluctantly, he thinks about kissing Virgil -- nope, nope, eugh he physically shakes his head, gut rolling uncomfortably. 

So that is a big contender for Declan has romantic feelings for Logan. 

He sighs and clunks his head against the door. This sucks. Declan hates feelings. 

The door downstairs sounds, opening and closing, followed by a resounding, “HEY, CICI, LOVE YOU!” 

Dee sighs, a smile flickering across his face. He pushes to his feet and exits his room, wandering downstairs, aloof. 

“Hey Pat,” he says, leaning against a wall. 

“Ci, I’m making lots of cookies!” Patton declares, beaming at him, and Declan’s heart drops. 

His expression must, too, because Patton’s features are suddenly painted in concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Declan says, and he feels bad, unexpectedly, for not replying to Patton’s text earlier. “Lots of cookies? With mint and chocolate chips? Enough to feed an army?” 

Patton’s arms wilt and Declan reads the tremor in his shoulders, the glisten of his eyes. Patton tries for a smile and misses by a mile. 

Declan crosses to where Patton stands in five steps, wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, pressing his cheek against Patton’s head. “What’s wrong?” 

Patton takes a shuddering breath, returning the hug. “Nothing, really. I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Ah,” Declan says. He tightens his grip on Patton. “Do you want help?” 

“No.” Patton presses his face into Declan’s chest. He’s shaking, ever so slightly. “Can you talk with me at the counter, though?” 

“Of course,” Declan agrees, mentally side-tabling his emotional turmoil. 

“Okay,” Patton says. He’s quiet for a few more moments, then says, “And Steven Universe later?” 

“Anything,” Declan says. He makes a face. The word had slipped out unbidden, but Patton doesn’t tease him for it. 

“Alright.” Patton pulls away, takes a breath. “I’m about to make the best damn cookies the world has ever seen.” 

“Damn straight,” Declan says, grinning. Patton pauses for just one moment more before moving to the kitchen, dropping various ingredients onto the counter and moving smoothly to gather more. 

Declan wonders at his influence on Patton’s vulgar mouth, then shrugs. Patton’s a teenager. He can do what he wants. 

“Weren’t you hanging out with Logan?” Patton asks conversationally. He’s pulling down bowls and sugar, obviously expecting easy small talk. And normally Logan is easy for Declan to talk about. He talks about him all the time.  

So when Declan winces, Patton turns and addresses him with full attention, brows furrowed. “What? What happened?” 

“I…” Declan considers for a moment to just lie about it but dismisses the thought. This is Patton. “I think I have a romantic attraction for him.” 

Saying it out loud only cements the certainty in Declan’s chest. No, he hasn’t quite completed the experiment, but he just… knows. 

The knowledge is both relieves and spikes his anxiety about the whole situation. 

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes wide. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Declan says honestly. 

“Alright,” Patton says. He turns back around and a wave of affection flows through Declan. “How did Roman do on his audition?” 

Declan hums, eternally grateful for Patton’s ability to turn the conversation away. They talk about Roman’s skill as an actor for a few minutes, jumping to Patton’s involvement in VEX robotics (focusing on the robotics instead of the people) and they kill about forty minutes with Patton talking about his baby bot, Pat Jr. 

When the clock strikes seven, Declan throws together two grilled cheese sandwiches and they eat in front of Steven Universe and the gems, Declan stretched out along the couch and Patton creating a throne of blankets for himself. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Patton murmurs, eyes never straying from the bursts of pastel on the screen, “but if you do have a romantic attraction to Logan it’s okay. You weren’t wrong in saying you’re aromantic. Because that fits you, you like it. There’s just more strings attached than you originally thought.” 

Declan blinks, the smallest smile growing on his face. “Thanks, Pat.” 

Patton hugs a pillow, eyes bright. “Love you, Ci.” 

Declan pushes his foot against Patton’s blanket pile in response. 

--

“Do you think we have to move?” Patton says, three hours into their movie night. 

Declan breathes, slowly inhaling as if it gives him an excuse to not reply. “I didn’t. I don’t want to. But probably.” 

“That’s why you haven’t told anyone,” Patton says. He shifts, turning to look at Declan. Declan maintains eye contact with the screen, despite having seen this movie countless times. “And why you told me to keep it under wraps.” 

“Yes,” Declan says, because really, he lies to the world, but he doesn’t lie to Patton. 

He tries not to lie to Patton. 

“But something changed yesterday.” Patton’s not asking questions. Somehow, he just knows, despite being left out of the loop. “And you were going to tell Logan today.” 

“Yes,” Declan says. Static thrums through his veins. Aladdin ignores a buzzing genie on screen, swatting him away to benefit his own desires. 

“What happened?” 

“Mom’s not getting out,” Declan says simply, because that’s it, really. Their mother is not getting out of jail. And with no father, their final hope is their uncle, three states over. Their father’s brother. 

Two months away from eighteen, and Declan is forced to concede. 

“When?” Patton asks. He’s trembling, but he’s not crying. Declan knows that will come later. 

“Because of the legal mixups and leaning on Sasha, two weeks, probably,” Declan says. Sasha is, of course, their next door neighbor, the crazy cat lady of the street who “watches” the boys “all the time”. 

“Two weeks,” Patton whispers. There’s a sheen in his eyes. Declan tries not to look but his gaze is like a magnet and Patton stares, stares, stares. “That’s not enough time. That’s not…”

Declan closes his eyes. 

He really thought he would win. 

He thought he could win. 

They only had to last two more months. His deadbeat mom had to last two months and they couldn’t even keep the legal proceedings--

He takes a breath. “Uncle Thomas is nice, at least.” 

“I don’t want uncle Thomas,” Patton snaps. 

“Well we don’t have a choice, Pat,” Declan bites out, stomach rolling at the words, eyes snapping open. 

Patton recoils, hurt flickering behind his eyes, but Declan knows it’s not enough to overpower the fire roaring in Patton’s lungs. “We did, we could have put more savings into mom’s defense, we could have found a place to live before it was our last resort but now we have to tell all our friends that we’re moving hundreds of miles away in two weeks!” 

“Mom doesn’t deserve to get out,” Declan spits. 

“I don’t CARE.” Patton’s fingers are clenched in fists. He stands. “I don’t care if mom deserves it or not. We deserve to stay.” 

“The world doesn’t work like that,” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth and snaps it shut, obviously restraining himself. A thousand emotions swim behind his eyes. Declan hates every single moment but he doesn’t say a word. 

He leaves. 

He leaves Declan sitting alone on the couch, watching Patton’s favorite movie. A door slams shut and Declan exhales heavily. They don’t get into fights, it’s just not -- Patton’s normally too upbeat to bother, Patton hates being angry, Declan normally doesn’t -- there’s nothing to get angry about, not in the grand scheme of things. They share easily, they have chaotic conversations, they… 

They’re fighting. 

Declan buries his head in his hands. He was too hopeful, too caught up on the possibility of the future to notice the sinkhole of reality. 

He really thought -- things would work out, Patton has his lucky charm of a personality and Declan works, he works hard, so things should -- Declan’s a senior in high school, halfway through the first semester, he should be worried about grades and school dances and friends and crushes and --

Logan. 

Declan curls, releasing something like a sob or maybe a dry heave. Whether or not he’s in love with Logan (most signs point to yes but there’s no way Declan’s addressing that) he still loves Logan, he loves being with him and talking to him and ordering his ice cream before Logan gets there to see the surprised and fond expression cross his face. 

Two weeks? 

To say goodbye to his best friend? 

Before moving, before picking up his entire life and his family (just -- Patton. Just Patton) and going somewhere Else?

Declan doesn’t feel like an adult. 

He doesn’t want to be an adult, either. 

Even if the world is asking him to be one. 

--

“You’re acting strange,” Logan observes. 

Declan shrugs. “I’m always strange.” He takes advantage of shoving fries in his face to avoid expounding. 

Logan sighs and puts down his burger. “Declan. Something’s going on.” 

Several somethings are going on, actually, but thanks. Declan shrugs again. “Haven’t been getting much sleep.” Which is a true statement. He’s written about ten different ways to tell Logan he’s leaving, nine of which are ripped up in the trash, one of which Declan just burned because he doesn’t want even scraps of that disaster to exist. 

Five days to go and Declan still hasn’t told him. Five days.  They don’t have many classes together, otherwise Logan would have pieced together the weird treatment from the teachers. Declan wonders if just disappearing into the void is an alright way to go, but a little Patton in his head chastises him for even considering it. 

Then again, at this rate…

“Hm,” Logan says. He has a thoughtful look on his face that’s absolutely devastating to Declan’s heart and general health and coherence of thought, let alone considering what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Is there a reason?” 

Declan considers, eyes narrowing as he stares at nothing. “I neglect to answer that question.” 

“So yes,” Logan says. The words fall from his lips with crushing sorrow. He takes a breath. “Why aren’t you telling me?” 

“Telling you what?” Declan says, internally wincing at the hurt flickering through Logan’s eyes.  

“Okay,” Logan says instead. He turns back to his food. 

They eat the rest of the meal in silence. 

-- 

Declan watches absentmindedly as Logan attempts to make a tower out of pens and pencils. With the addition of Roman’s copious amounts of colored pens, the tower is quite impressive. 

Two days. 

(Two Days).

Declan’s all packed. Sorta. Not really. He’s going to skip some classes in the future and pack all at once, throwing everything into the boxes (the empty boxes lining his room), not caring if anything breaks. 

He… 

He hasn’t told Logan yet. 

Or anyone, really, but Logan’s the one that -- the one that matters the most. 

Logan did, however, ask him if he was okay three times before leaving him be, because Logan knows that Declan becomes testy if asked the same question consistently. 

So basically, as far as Declan can figure, Declan’s a tool. Logan is trying, and Declan is giving him jack shit to work with. 

Patton has told all his friends, which means it’s only a matter of time before Logan finds out, right? Patton’s a sophomore, they’re seniors, and the school is large, but it’s also not as big as it seems. 

Roman, sitting next to him, hums under his breath as he types. He’s editing his college essay, which Declan would be doing if he had a college essay to edit and also cared enough. The atmosphere is strikingly calm, which leads to an anxious buzzing under Declan’s skin. 

Tell him. Just tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him. You’re in a library, he can’t get loud and yell. 

Declan wonders if yelling would be better, actually, than wide eyed stares and wounded expressions. 

He’s contemplating the merits of writing a letter (absolutely not, he doesn’t know why he’s even considering it) when he spots Patton out of the corner of his eye. 

Patton in and of himself does not scare Declan. 

The fact that he’s bee-lining for Declan and his friends does make him a bit nervous, though. 

“Cici,” Patton hisses. The cutesy play on Declan’s middle name sounds odd in such a harsh tone of voice. He glances at Logan before staring at Declan. 

Declan’s starkly aware of Roman and Logan’s attention when he says, “yeah?” 

“You told them?” Patton says, and Declan--

Well. 

A combination of fear and fury and regret zip through his veins at warp speed.

But Declan’s well trained in the art of deception. 

He schools his expression into one of cool indifference. “That I’m taking you for ice cream? Nah. I didn’t think they’d care. You wanna go right now?” 

Roman huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to his computer. Logan doesn’t look away, though, hand resting on a bright yellow flair pen. 

Patton’s brow furrows. “I mean the--”

“Man, if you were that impatient you could’ve texted me,” Declan interrupts with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Get me some ice cream next time,” Roman says, grinning. His gaze doesn’t leave his screen. “Bye, loser.” 

“Bye,” Logan echoes. 

Something registers in Declan’s brain-dead skull that Logan sounds lifeless because his best friend has been distant (Declan. Declan is Logan’s best friend). 

Declan pauses, sighs. Patton looks outraged and about two seconds from outing Declan. 

“I’m sorry,” Declan says. Logan looks up at him. “It’s not your fault. Just… I’m going through some things. You deserve to know. I shouldn’t shadow you without any info.” 

Patton looks even angrier, if possible, but then Logan’s talking and Patton hates interrupting people. 

“Okay,” Logan says, soft as ever. “I’ll wait for you.” 

And if that doesn’t make Declan feel like the nastiest motherfucker. 

“Let’s go,” Declan says, pulling Patton along before Patton lets loose. 

He opens his mouth, but Declan beats him to it, whispering, “Shh, we’re in a library.” 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Patton hisses instead. 

“Language.” 

“You haven’t told them?” Patton exclaims. He yanks his wrist from Declan’s grip but continues following him, arms gesturing wildly. “You’re the worst.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Declan mutters. 

“You better get me ice cream now,” Patton says, crossing his arms. “After making me watch that.” 

“That’s fair,” Declan concedes, and then realizes he’s going to have to spent the next thirty minutes listening to Patton chastise him and -- 

Honestly, he deserves it, but he doesn’t want it, but before he can say anything, Patton says, “don’t even think about escaping this.” 

So he’s stuck listening to Patton chastise him for the next thirty minutes until their next class starts. 

But he gets a turtle sundae out of it, so it’s like, at least 20% a win. 

--

“CICI,” Patton screams from the living room. 

Declan shoots to his feet, tripping and slamming his knee into the doorframe, scrambling to reach Patton as swiftly as possible. He appears at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against the wall, chest heaving, eyes blown wide. “What? What is it?” 

He assesses Patton for damage, but Patton’s standing with his phone clutched between his fingers, shaking ever so slightly but appearing physically fine. He’s staring at Declan, lip trembling. 

“Patton?” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. He sniffs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat as he wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t tell you! I should let you suffer because you’re mean.” 

“Patton,” Declan says, approaching his brother like one might a wild animal. 

Patton shakes his head and Declan stops. 

“I’m upset!” Patton says. Then he lets out a laugh, choked. “But I’m so relieved.”

Declan doesn’t say anything. 

Patton sniffles a few more times, then peeks at Declan through his fingers. Declan tries for a smile, sheepish. Patton smiles back, watery and soft. His shoulders shake as he laughs softly, his phone pressed against his cheek. “I was so scared.” 

“Me too,” Declan says. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, the anger draining from his face and leaving a wide-eyed pile of nerves. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not mean. You’re just scared.” 

“It’s okay,” Declan says. His arms hand limply by his sides. He wants to do something with them, to cross his arms or put them in his hoodie pockets or something, but he also wants to leave them available for when Patton wants a hug, so he stands awkwardly instead. “I forgive you.” 

“I’ve been calling Uncle Thomas,” Patton says. 

Declan’s heart does something funny in his chest. 

Patton pulls his hands away from his face, rubbing his cheeks clean, staring at his phone for a few moments before his hand drops, dangling at his side. “He’s -- he said he’s coming here. His job can be done online and the stuff he can’t do online he’ll fly back for which won’t be often, he said it’s important to him that we -- have a support system throughout highschool, and he wants us to finish here before doing anything else.” 

The information barely filters through Declan’s mind because when Patton exhales another sob Declan steps forward and envelops him in his arms on instinct. Patton’s legs go weak. Declan sinks to the ground, Patton pressing his face into Declan’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is good. This is good.” 

“Sometimes emotions have a funny way of showing,” Declan says. He runs his fingers through Patton’s hair, untangling the curls. “You’ve been stressed. It’s okay.” 

“Why aren’t you crying?” Patton says. He taps his palm against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a smack without any of the power. “It’s not fair.”

Declan laughs, sort of. “I might later. I don’t know. Emotions are weird.” 

“You never told your friends you were moving,” Patton says. “Will they ever find out?” 

“Probably,” Declan says. He squeezes Patton. “I know you told your friends. It’s better your way. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Mm.” 

Declan can feel the rise and fall of Patton’s chest. It slows as Patton calms down. “We don’t have to move,” Patton murmurs. 

“We don’t have to move,” Declan agrees, and Patton presses even closer. 

--

Declan doesn’t know how he finds his way to the beach but at one point he’s baking Patton cookies and the next he’s sitting on a slab of concrete overlooking the pitch dark waves. He knows Patton is sleeping, or is at least pretending to sleep. He vaguely remembers writing a note in case Patton looks for him. 

It’s been three days since Patton discovered Uncle Thomas’s moving plans. Discovered? Convinced? Declan isn’t sure. 

And he doesn’t really know how to react. He’s been moving on autopilot, making dinner, doing homework, putting in minimal effort into his friendships so they don’t abandon him on the side of the road -- 

No. Declan shakes his head. Putting minimal effort into his friendships because his friends don’t deserve to be cut off without a word. 

Nothing feels right. 

(Something is off). 

He hears footsteps and before he can whip around, before fear has the chance to truly take over his body, he hears, “this seat taken?” 

“No,” Declan says, and Logan sits next to him on the concrete. They’re quiet for a few moments, watching the reflection of the moon, tasting salt on their tongues. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Logan says finally. 

Declan closes his eyes, breathes. His emotions are all tangled up in his chest and he doesn’t want to tap into it for fear that if he lets out a little he’ll let out everything. 

But Logan deserves to know. 

(He deserves someone better.)

“My mom lost,” Declan says, which sounds nicer than it did in his head. “She’s unfit to care for us, anyway, but now she’s officially calling prison her new home.” 

Logan’s quiet. Declan listens to his breathing. He spies Logan’s hand against the concrete and longs to close the distance and entangle their fingers, just for a modicum of physical comfort. The slightest hint of warmth permeates the air around Logan and Declan wants to lean closer, to press their arms together. 

“My Uncle, on my dad’s side, is taking care of us. He… wasn’t originally going to move here, but Patton talked to him and he decided moving here is the best course of action.” Declan shifts. He doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to explain. 

Logan stops breathing. 

“I almost lost you,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper. 

Declan glances at him and can barely comprehend the amount of horror shining in Logan’s eyes. Logan’s staring at him, expression open and terrified. “I almost…” He exhales, shaking. Declan watches him so closely he can see the sticking of his chest as he breathes, the tremor of his shoulders. 

Declan’s heart stutters and he wants to tear his gaze away but he owes, he owes Logan this. Even though the only thing he wants to do is run away, to preserve himself. “I -- I never told you,” Declan says, more scared than he has been in a long time. He opens his mouth and stops, shrinking away. He looks over Logan’s shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact. “We were supposed to leave two days ago. I was going to tell you and then…” 

Then I found out that I’m in love with you, and it freaked me out so much I closed myself off. 

Logan’s truly shaking, and Declan doesn’t know what to do. You caused this. This is your fault. 

“Ugh! I’m sorry,” Declan exclaims. He can’t stand this, these tentative moments, fragile as glass. He wants to take a hammer to the whole affair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much but I was scared, and it’s not a valid excuse, but I was terrified, Logan, I couldn’t leave you! You mean too much to me!” 

“You mean a lot to me too,” Logan says, but Declan’s on a roll, now, there’s no stopping the hurricane in his heart. 

He moves his gaze to the waves, finding solace and energy in the constancy. “I was going to tell you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago in your room, and then I freaked out because -- and then I left, and haven’t been able to figure out how to word it since, and Patton’s better than I am, he told his friends almost immediately, imagine, having worse emotional competency than a fifteen year old--”

“Roman found out,” Logan says, grinding Declan’s tangent to a halt. “He mentioned something to me but I needed to hear it from you.” 

Declan stares at him. 

“I asked Patton if you were at home,” Logan explains. Declan can barely tell in the shadows, but Logan’s face seems to darken. “When he said no, I knew there was one other place you would go. Probably.” 

Declan worries his lip. He’s that predictable? 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Logan asks, quiet. 

“Because…” Liquid anxiety slogs through his veins. His voice drops, quiet, quieter than the sound of waves. “Because I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” 

For a second all he can hear is the crash of the sea and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know why the moon isn’t falling from the sky, why the stars haven’t combusted, because his world feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. 

“I discovered that,” Declan continues, the words slipping between his lips before his mind has any say in the matter, “and didn’t know what to do, and then I needed to tell you I was leaving, and I love you, and I couldn’t. Because I’m a coward.” 

Another beat. Declan takes a long breath. “I still love you. And I’m no longer leaving.” 

“I suppose… now would be a bad time to bring up demiromanticism?” Logan tries. 

“It would be a terrible time, but thank you,” Declan says, and he can’t help the small puff of laughter that escapes. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, then, and Declan can’t breathe. 

He turns to Logan without thinking, searching his sapphire blue eyes for deception even though Logan has never, ever lied to him. He can’t hope, he can’t dare to hope, the world would never give him two miracles. “Don’t trick me.” 

“I’m in love with you,” Logan clarifies, nervous. His hands are wringing together and he’s biting his lip. 

Declan reaches out, fingers trembling, to brush against Logan’s cheek. “You…”

“I’ve been in love with you,” Logan says. He’s looking down, away from Declan’s gaze, but he leans into his touch. “For awhile. I never wanted to bring it up because… you were so adamant about being separate from romance…”

“I thought I was,” Declan says honestly. “Which is why this is a real fucking trip, let me tell you.” 

Logan laughs, and some of the tension in the air dissolves. “I can imagine.” 

“God, I love you,” Declan says. He brushes his thumb underneath Logan’s eye. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, eyes wide and sparkling, then he moves forward and cradles Declan’s head in his hands and Declan short circuits because he’s right there he’s RIGHT THERE and he’s touching him he loves him he loves him--

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan says, and Declan just stares at him dumbly because his mouth stops working. His heart is barely going, the only reason he’s not dead is because his body has some sort of instinctive survival instinct, or something. 

Emotion clog his throat and Declan doesn’t know how he’s not sobbing already so he’s unsurprised when the smallest tear slips out of his eye. 

“Oh,” Logan says, wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s -- it’s not -- it’s not you,” Declan chokes out. “God. This is so embarrassing.” 

“I don’t care,” Logan says. He leans closer, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Declan’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry.” 

Declan smiles thinly, blinking away tears. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Logan stares at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan says. His trembling hands hold Logan’s jaw. “And you’re so smart and passionate, and you have the most wicked sense of humor, and you’re my best friend.” 

“No,” Logan shakes his head. “I mean, I am your best friend, but there’s no deserve in a relationship. We’re just people. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. Please don’t sell yourself short.” 

Declan wants to say that only proves how good Logan truly is, but he settles for a simple, “Okay.” 

Logan brushes hair out of Declan’s eyes, then sighs, dropping his head to Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s hands slide down to Logan’s upper back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Declan says. 

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Logan replies, muffled. He pulls away for a split second, eyes blurry and a crease already showing from his glasses pressing into his skin. “But if you withhold life-altering information like that from me again there will be issues.” 

“I won’t,” Declan says. He swallows. He hates promises. He hates them, because he never feels like he can maintain them. “I’ll… I’ll try my hardest.” 

Logan searches his gaze, nods, and then presses fully into Declan. 

“Woah, okay.” Declan shifts as Logan clings to him like a koala bear. Logan’s basically in his lap and Declan, well. Declan has no complaints. 

“I can do this as much as I want because we’re in love with each other,” Logan mutters, and wow, if that doesn’t send a thousand vibrations across his skin. In love with each other. 

Declan grins. He likes the sound of that. 

“You know,” Logan says conversationally. His fingers trail up to press against Declan’s face, outlining his lips. “I love it when you smile.” 

Declan hums, his smile broadening. Me too, Logan. 

Me too.

[troublesometrollhunters]

Fluff fic about Bular trying to use human courting customs like flowers and a dinner date for the first time?

You're reading a book in the Orders expansive library trying to find a certain article when you hear the door open somewhere behind you. Thinking it's just another changeling you ignore it flipping through the pages until large thuds echo through the large space. Confused you pause your reading recognizing those steps. You'd never expect Bular to be a reader...?

Turning using your finger to mark the page your on as you close the book you jump seeing him so close. How could someone so large be so silent? His golden red eyes stare into yours before he chuffs. Opening his mouth a large rose bush with the roots still attached is dropped at your feet. Looking at the flowers before looking back at the prince you tilt your head leaning against the bookshelf behind you.

"Uhhhhh... hello Bular." You greet looking at the flowers before staring at the prince confused. Bular often sought you out but coming to the library was new. Waiting for his response he doesn't speak he simply nudges the flowers towards you huffing. Blinking surprised you stare at Bular. Were you missing something? "For me?" You ask in disbelief. He chuffs clearly annoyed and you quickly take a flower not wanting to insult him but unable to hold them all.

"Humans like flowers I've been told. And your half human. ... Mostly human. Part human. Humanish." He shakes his head and snorts looking away flustered. You nod holding the rose you'd taken close. The luminescent lights flicker above your heads and your eyes flash as you look at the dainty petals gently touching each one. Bringing the rose close smelling it you smile at Bular face becoming darker as you too grow flustered.

"I do like flowers." You hum. "Thankyou. Will that be all Bular?" You question confused on why he brought you flowers. Because humans liked them? What was that supposed to mean? Ever since you'd been assigned as his partner on a mission a few weeks ago he had been acting weird. Was he commending you on a job well done now that the mission was over? Or did these mean something else? Spinning the rose inbetween your fingers looking at him he huffs.

"Have dinner with me." He demands. Pausing you tuck the flower into your book before closing it. Staring at your boss you tilt your head.

"... Dinner?" You question beginning to realize his intentions.

"A date. A dinner date." Blinking in surprise your not sure what to say. That wasn't what you were expecting. A dinner date? With the skullcrushers son? Flattered but also concerned you wonder if this is a trap or if its genuine.

Picking another rose tucking the book that held your flower into your bag you pluck the thorns off the new plant before putting it behind your ear. Eyes glowing in interest you hum.

"I don't happen to be the dinner do I?" You question playfully. He snorts and you chuckle allowing Bular to lead you towards this supposed dinner date. "I was just asking." You tease. He chuffs rolling his eyes at you before he smiles.

You smile back heart fluttering. You had some lingering feelings from the mission but to think it'd lead to this... to a dinner date with the skullcrushers son?

Straightening your posture you feel the rose to make sure this isn't a dream. Touching the petals you know it isn't. As Bular glances at you you glance back golden eyes meeting golden eyes. You guess there were more absurd things...

After all love had many forms and formed between many people. If Bular could research humans courting methods you could accept his affections. Especially since you felt the same.

[ramp-it-up]

Cuddle Buddies

Pairing: Roommate! Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Minors DNI, RPF, angst, cursing, pining, jealousy, suggestive language, butt slapping, fluff! No smut!  All errors my own. I apologize if you like the smell of patchouli, lol.

A/N: This is an answer to the following ask from @teatro-dira :

Okay so I don't know if this is kinda weird but like an Rafael x reader were they are like really cuddly(like a lot of hugs, cuddling and stuff) friends and roommates and everyone teases them asking them if they're dating. Then Rafael gets a girlfriend which makes y/n lowkey feel betrayed and jealous, but he doesn't realize that. Y/n accidentally ruins their relationship(you chose how). They get into a fight, but it ends in fluff. Hope you understand what I mean:)

Here it goes! I hope you like it!

———-

A series of unfortunate events led you to this situation six months ago.

You were subletting Rafael’s apartment in Santa Monica when production wrapped a month early on his project in Vancouver. He had nowhere to go, and neither did you, so you agreed to share the space.

You vibed, almost as much as he and Daveed did. Folks began to call you the fourth Muskateer, for as much as you, Rafa, Daveed and his girl were always together. 

You all talked, smoked, and created together. You and Rafa especially were always all over each other, keeping each other warm under blankets on the couch, watching movies while you ran your fingers through his hair, in one or another’s bed watching videos, or writing in tandem. 

It was all good, cause Rafa was being a man-whore at the moment with several ladies, and you were just chilling. It was dope. 

Almost.

It would have been all the way dope, except...

Except for the fact that you were in love with Rafa.

You loved sharing the same space with him, because you could smell him when he just got out of the shower, play in his silky hair, and feel his strong arms around you. And when he wore grey sweats…. Damn.  You and your little bullet celebrated every time that happened.

Everyone could tell, except for Rafael.  People ragged on you two so hard, that you vehemently denied it every time, to the point of getting heated.

One night, you side eyed the teaser through a cloud of smoke after catching Rafa’s grimace when they said you two should get together.  Your mood sank at what you perceived was rejection.

“I would NEVER get with Rafa, that’s the homie.  He’s like a brother to me. Ugh. Getting with my brother? No way. We’re just Cuddle Buddies.”

Rafa blinked and then took a toke.

“Exactly, we the homies. Platonic Ride or Dies.  It’ll never happen.”  He passed what he was holding and then stood up. “Cuddle Buddies till the end.”  He sounded disgusted.

“I’m going to go get some food. I’m hungry. What does everyone want?”  After everyone yelled out their orders, you offered to come with.

“Nah, sis.  I’m good.  Gonna clear my head. I’ll be back soon.  Rafa peaced out and you sat back down with the crew.

-------

Ever since that night, Rafa seemed a little distant.  He was always busy, and never had time to sit and kick it with you the last couple of weeks.  You all never seemed to link.

One night, he was home when you came in with groceries.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that you’d be here!” You put the groceries down on the counter while Rafa was at the stove, cooking up some pasta with marina.

“Mmmmmm. Smells good!” You went and stood very close to him, expecting him to give you a side hug, at least.

He just turned and glanced at you, a smirk lifting one side of his face.

“Will you never learn to keep an umbrella in the car? You always come in soaking wet from the rain.”

Here he was, shaking his head that you didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.  How could this talented genius ever want to be with you?

You just played it off, as usual. “I’m starving. I didn’t think I would make it through cooking, but you’re always clutch, Rafa!” 

Rafa stood there and gaped at you.

“Uhhhhh… I thought you said you were driving down to the Vista to see your mom… I have someone coming over for dinner....”

“No.  She’s decided to go on a cruise to Cabo with her bestie… she just called and told me as she was boarding the ship this afternoon.  The hussy. Tryna be fast with her little friends.”  You laughed.

“So, who’s coming over?  UTK? Wayne? Jimmy?”

You jumped up on the counter and watched as Rafa put some french bread with butter and garlic in the oven.  Smelled like heaven.  Those guys would definitely invite you to stay.

Rafa wiped his hands on the towel that was hanging on the stove. And turned around to face you.

“Her name is Aurora.”

It was like he’d punched you in the gut. He’d NEVER brought one of his heauxes around. You fought the urge to double over, even though you felt nauseous.  When you looked at him, he looked concerned.

“Hey, you okay?”

You jumped down from the counter and quickly nodded your head, laughing weakly.  

“I...uh.. Yeah.  Like I said, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, expecting to be at dinner with my moms by now.”

You grabbed your groceries, putting them up quickly and grabbed an apple, taking it to your room.

“I’m going to get out of your way in a minute, I’ll go over to Carla’s and hang with her tonight. We’ll probably go out and do what we do, you know?”

Rafa still looked worried.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You need more than an apple. Look, stay…”

“NO!”  Your voice was raised and it startled you.  “I mean, I’m not one to be a cock blocker.  I’ll just get my stuff and get ready to go.”

Rafa just watched as you scurried into your room. Why did you feel like crying?  Why did you feel as if you would never breathe properly again?  You got out your phone and called Carla.

20 minutes later, you exited your room dressed for the club with your overnight bag.  There was a strange smell in the room, and it wasn’t pasta.  It was patchouli.  You HATED patchouli.

You didn’t realize you were giving the gas face until Rafa came out of the kitchen followed by a short, but cute woman, with a body like, whoa. 

Of course.

Rafa glared at you and you fixed your face.  That bestie telepathy was on point. Then he looked up and down, as if he were judging your freakum dress.  Well, fuck him.

“Oh, hey!  Y/N, this is Aurora.  Aurora, Y/N.”

Aurora ignored your outstretched hand and went in for a hug. 

“Y/N!  I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you intimately, just like Rafael.”  

You tried to keep your face straight in reaction to her scent, then gave her a sideye. 

Was it the inept way she rolled the ‘R’ in Rafael, or the thinly veiled shot at your relationship? Either way, you felt like slapping the shit out of her. You looked at Rafa, but then just cleared your throat.

“And I’ve heard so much about you as well.  You’re all Rafa talks about.” He shook his head behind her.  “Nice to meet you, but I’m headed out for the night.”

It was then that Aurora saw your bag and brightened up.  

“Oh!  You do look nice. Are you leaving, you sure you don’t want to stay?”  

You could smell insincerity a mile away. Even patchouli couldn’t cover that up. You just smiled at her.  

“No ma’am.  I’ve got places to see and people to do.”  You winked at them as you walked out of the door, holding up your umbrella.  “Stay dry y’all.”

You made it out the door without crying of jack slapping that little bitch or Rafa.  You were winning.  

But why did it feel like you’d lost everything?

-----

You and Rafa successfully avoided one another for days.  He was either over Aurora’s or you were with Carla, your mom, or just stayed in your room.

One time you passed Rafa and Aurora on the couch watching a movie on your way to the kitchen to get something to eat.  Rafa’s head was in her lap.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard Rafa’s slightly raised voice say: “Don't’ mess with the swoop, Babe.”

‘Babe.’ He called her Babe. That’s it. It was time for you to go. 

You were cramping Rafa’s style.  You just tiptoed back in your room, making little to no noise so that they could watch the movie in peace. You didn’t see Rafa looking at your door after you went in.

----

A week later, you let Rafa know your move out date.

“Wait. What?”

Rafa’s mouth was open. You repeated yourself.

“Well, I’m going to move in with Carla. She’s going to let me ride her couch until this other place comes open in three weeks. It’s a sweet deal, near the studio….”

Rafa’s mind was racing, you could see the gears turning.

“Well… why don’t you just stay here until then, we got a good thing going.” He looked upset. What was up with him?

“Rafa… I’m just in the way.  You’ve got Aurora…”

“Hold up, wait.  We aren’t even that serious.  I mean, I just stopped seeing Bev and Chrissy. He looked at his watch. Last week.”

You laughed at Rafa’s fuckboi ways.  “Well, what about me? I might want to date someone and bring them over…”

Rafa’s face changed.

“Bring someone over here…”

But it didn’t sound like an invitation, it sounded like a threat.  

It was your turn to stare at Rafa.  “What the hell…?”

He straightened up.  “I mean, any of your guests are welcome here.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“See what I mean? Things are getting tense, I want us to stay friends, not be tight with each other all the time.”

Rafa grinned.  “You said ‘tight.’”  He dodged a couch pillow thrown at his head.

“What are you, a 12 year old?”  You were rolling.  He really was one of your best friends.  But you needed space to get over yourself.  And him.

“Okay.  You grown.  But just know that you don’t have to go.  And know that I will miss the hell out of you.”  

Rafa came over to hug you, and he held you longer than normal, and then kissed the top of your head.  You looked up at him, still in his arms and it was like…

You cleared your throat.  “Well, I guess I better go start to pack.”

Rafa stepped back.  “Ok.”

Both of you hurried to your perspective rooms.

-----

One night, a couple of days later, Rafael came into your room without knocking.

“What did you say to Aurora?”

You were laying on your stomach on your phone, in just your t-shirt an panties.  You rolled over and looked at him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Rafa wasn’t yelling, but he was keyed up.

“What did you tell her the last time you talked?”

You put your head down to think, then brought it back up. 

“I just said that I was going to miss playing in your hair when we watched movies, that I knew it was your favorite thing.”

Rafa nodded, then shook his head.  

“Y/N, you’re the only one I let touch my hair.  Aurora has barely been allowed near it.”

“That’s…. New.”  You were perplexed.

“No it isn’t. Everyone knows I don’t like people messing with my hair.  Aurora accused me of having feelings for you.”

You were sitting up now, crossing your arms and standing before Rafa.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Rafa looked like he was about to explode. He threw his hands up in the air and walked out of your room.

“OF COURSE IT IS! RIDICULOUS!”  He was really agitated.

“Yeah, I know all too well that you think it's ridiculous for me to want to be with you.  I don’t know what makes you think I’m not good enough for you?”

“Good enough for ME?  You’re the one running around with all the model/actress types, you’re the one who thinks I’m beneath you.  You said so that one night when you said we were ‘Platonic Ride or Dies.’”

“Here we go! Total distortion! Did you hear what you said before I said that?  You said I was like your brother.  Your brother.  You think it’s that disgusting to be with me.”

“I just said that because you made a face when what’s her face said we should be together.”

“I made that face because I was imagining fucking your brains out.  It was probably my cum face.”

You stopped and stared at him, mouth hinged open.

“The fuck?”  You burst out laughing.  “You are mad outta pocket Rafa.” Rafa was rolling too.  “But you ain’t gotta lie.”

Rafa stopped laughing.  

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

He was moving closer to you. This felt… dangerous. He looked up and down your body, and it was the first time you felt uncomfortable being comfortable around Rafa.

“Because you told me that you wanted to just be Cuddle Buddies a month after you came back from Canada. You drew a line in the sand.”

Rafa shook his head at you and smiled, green-blue eyes twinkling. 

“I knew you were too zooted.  I shouldn’t have tried to shoot my shot.”

“Run that back for me?”  You couldn’t believe what he was saying right now.

“What I said was..I wanted to be Cuddie buddies. Cuddie is… you know…”  

He pointed to your crotch.

You looked down, and then up at him again. “I can’t with you Rafa….” 

Rafa tilted his head in that sexy way at you. 

“Can you really not?” 

You were stunned.  Rafa continued.

“But I’m serious. When you came back with ‘Cuddle Buddies,’ I thought you were blowing me off and just wanted to be friends. So, I just settled into the friend zone.”

“Do you mean you’re attracted to me? Rafa, that’s funny as hell. You want me for my body?”

Rafa raised his eyebrows at you. “Hell yeah. C’mon girl. You know you’re fine.” 

Your cheeks heated up. You stared at him for what must have been a solid minute.  The possibilities of this alternate reality where Rafa liked you like you liked him opened up.

“But, Rafa... I don’t wanna be just cuddie buddies.”

“Oh. Ok, Cool….” Rafa cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at you.

“I want your heart.” 

Rafa paused when he heard that and his face fell as he moved toward you.  He took your arms in his hands.

“Y/N I'm sorry, I can't give you my heart.”

It was your turn to pick up your face.

“’Cause you already have it.” 

His mischievous grin made your stomach flip.  But you were mad.

“Fuck you, Rafa.” You were laughing with happiness, despite him playing too much.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Rafa swooped down and threw you over his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting six months for that invitation.”  

You were trying to kick and scream. 

Raa swatted you on the ass, then smoothed his hand over the cheek that stung.

“The more you struggle, the more you’ll be begging me to stop in a few.”

You struggled some more, but he made it to your bedroom and deposited you on the bed.  He glared down at you, all sexy green-eyed god.

“Try me, Y/N.”

You reached for the drawstring on his sweats.

“If you insist, Rafael.”

-----

Taglist:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @curlyhairclub

[miraeluc]

you have an anxiety attack

prompt: “after a long day you’re just trying to cook for you and your roommate, but when you accidentally switch salt and sugar the stress dawns upon you and you lose it.”

pairing: kaeya x gender-neutral reader

warnings: description of an anxiety attack, explicit language

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, angst

rough day? 

no

roughest of the rough 

it started in the morning - all was good until you were all dressed and ready to go

all you needed to do was brush your teeth

of course you dropped toothpaste on your new blouse and had to change because your boss would literally kill you if you strutted in there with toothpaste stains on your clothing 

that didn’t upset you too much anyway,, yep, it kinda sucks but it is what it is

you went to work

that’s when it started to REALLY go downhill

first, you had to sit your ass in this tiny cubicle all day and it remained right on that chair every time you stood up

that’s what it felt like at least

then, you lost data that you’ve been working on for a MONTH

an entire month’s worth data!!!! LOST!!!!

curse you and your issue with forgetting where you put your folders

so you started over

was it worth it? 

no

your boss hated it

you ended up dropping the project overall,, handed it over to a co-worker

your excuse was that you felt too ‘unfit’ for the whole project and he would totally be a better fit!

poor bennett 

bennett is a nice guy, you always hang out with him during break

you usually talk shit about the other co-workers and he just listens and sits there like ◕ ◡ ◕

he’s just there for the food you bring him, really 

he’s a little dumb so he took the project from you with no hesitation

“i’ll do it for you, dont even worry about it, y/n!”

you ended up working overtime 

you had about 7 projects to finish until tomorrow morning and they were all only half-done 

so you got your coffee, turned off your phone and got to work

you finished at 9pm

your work hours are 8am-5:30pm

nope, not having a great time 

well, at least you can go home now!

you pack up your stuff and get up, leaving this hellhole of an office, stretching as you wait for the elevator before checking your phone to see 7 missed calls from your roommate

aka kaeya

aka boy that is most likely emotionally unavailable

aka boy that KEEPS TURNING OFF THE HEATERS TO LEAVE YOU TO FREEZE

his excuse is always that he can’t handle the warmth but you’re sure its so you whine about the cold so he can hug you to warm you up

maybe you have a teeny tiny crush on him???? BUT WHO CAN BLAME YOU 

he’s a whole package - the only thing he’s lacking is emotional availability lmao

which is why you never mentioned the day by day blooming feelings you’ve been developing for him

there would be no positive outcome from you telling him. he would politely turn you down, having to explain yet again that he doesn’t see himself having actual romantic feelings to someone 

you’re content with your current relationship with him

right?

kaeya is known as the fuckboy! of the city

neither of you mind, he’s having his fun

and you know that there’s much more to it 

you’re very happy to have gained his trust enough for him to let his flirty side down when with you, at least

well, there’s no time to ponder over your relationship with him because you’re already sprinting to catch the last bus of the day

right as you got to the station it drove away

fuck

what now?

you have to walk home. alone. in the dark.

oh well. 

usually bennett drives you home but obviously he left earlier

its only a 15 minute walk you can do it

it’s not that bad there’s street lamps hey!

not that bad until it starts to rain, apparently

by the time you get home there’s water in places rainwater shouldn’t be

kaeya is running by the time he hears the front door

“where were you??”

“why didn’t you reply to my calls??”

“do you have a slight idea about how worried i w-”

he stops when he sees your soaked figure and tired expression

“oh, y/n, what happened?” 

he immediately helped you chuck off your wet coat and shoes 

“i worked overtime and missed the last bus so i had to walk home”, you sighed

he nodded and hummed “Go ahead and take a shower then, wouldn’t want you to get sick now, would we?” he winked

you scoffed but nodded anyway

 “yeah, especially in this coLD FUCKING APARTMENT BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO LET THE HEATERS TURNED ON-”

you only heard him laugh before shutting the door in the bathroom and jumping into the shower, needing to warm up because you were sure your toes were about to fall off from the cold

at least the shower went well

:///

you got dressed in lounge attire when you got out of the shower, walking to the kitchen because you were very hungry

you gave bennett all your food today so you didnt have any left

he just looked so hungry

ANYWAYS

you’re in the kitchen, deciding on what to cook

if you ask kaeya he will tell you to just drink wine instead so, no

you kind of want something sweet so you decide to bake cupcakes

kaeya shows up too

“what’re you baking?”

he sat and watched as you gathered all the ingredients you need

“cupcakes. how was your day?”

you strike up a conversation - all you talked about today was work and you need some decent interaction, plus kaeya is a super nice talk partner

“good. i had a day-off today so i layed in bed all day”

you hummed, stirring the eggs and flour 

“how come? you never get off”

“no reason, i was forcibly given a day off- well anyways, what i wanted to tell you about before you worried me because i thoght you were deAD when you didn’t respond, is that i need your help setting up a date for diluc-”

you stopped listening halfway

you were looking at the unopened sugar bag on the counter

you just stirred the sugar in, why is it unopened????

you look over at the open bag of salt

wait a second 

you take out a little dough and taste it

FUCK

“hello??? earth to y/n?? are you even liste-”

he stops himself as soon as you look at him with your lower lip trembling 

uhhhhh

he’s never been in this situation

“y/n?? why are you crying-”

he looks at the counter and the dough, then he sees the salt beside the bowl you were stirring in and leans over to try some

oh, that’s why

“oh come on, is that what you’re crying over?” he snorted

he could barely catch you when you collapsed and started sobbing 

he immediately regreted what he said

“hey, y/n, it’s just a little dough! its okay-” 

you just sobbed and he sat down with you, sighing and pulling you into a tight hug

you felt your lungs constricting and your hands started shaking 

you didn’t even notice how antsy you felt all day until now

you gasped for air and he tightened his grip on you

“w-why am i so worthless?!”

you punched his chest

“i can’t do a single thi-ng with-out messing it up!”

punch

“i’m so us-useless”

punch

“i should just kill m-”

he immediately pulled away and cupped your face before you could finish what you were about to say

“y/n, look at me. you had a bad day - you’re not useless! you’re stressed out! you’re one of the most hardworking people that i know- and, and don’t you ever mention anything about killing yourself! i won’t let you go, not as long as im here”

you were too busy fighting against the constricting feeling in your lungs to notice the tear slipping down his cheek before he hugged you tightly again

your hands gripped at his tshirt

his hand rested over your shaky ones

it broke him

seeing you in such state hurt him so much, he felt his own heart breaking a little with every gasp you took 

“come on, let’s breathe together”

his voice was soft when he spoke to you

he took a deep breath in, you following

you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your head against his chest when breathing out 

hearing his heartbeat made you feel safe

he kept breathing with you until he was more than sure you could breathe comfortably again 

why did he feel like this?

sure, flirting with girls is fun 

and ghosting them is also fun

he usually doesn’t care about hurting them

but why does he feel the need to protect you from all bad things?

and why does your pain hurt him too?

he sighs and shakes his head as if that would clear his mind 

(it doesn’t)

oh well. 

taking care of your needs is more important right now

he picks you up and walks over to the couch, sitting down, placing you on his lap and hugging you 

“you’re not cooking anything, we’ll order takeout.”

you sniffled and nodded 

you did feel your heart flutter a little when he sat you down on him

he’s never done that 

you ignore it and reside into the warmth he gives instead, nuzzling your face into his chest 

he smiles softly and strokes your hair, using his free hand to type in what you were ordering

you both fell into a comfortable silence

at some point he thought you fell asleep lol

“kaeya?”

he rose his brows a little and looked down, humming

“thank you.”

additional notes: welp. this was my first drabble! it was very fun to write and i genuinely look forward to writing more! i’d appreciate it alot if you leave any feedback or even requests for drabbles :-)

[aliensforleaders]

Tell Me Again Tomorrow: Part 2

Pairing: Rami Malek x Female Reader

Summary: The reader lives in LA and her friend Alisha begs her to go to a party for the weekend at the beach. She really doesn’t want to go, but Alisha convinces her and she meets a captivating man.

Warnings: some swearing and so much fluff ugh he’s so sweet.

A/N: Okay so I’m gaining confidence with this series. Also I have never actually been to the place that is mentioned at the end (no spoilers) but I went on the website and did my best. If you want to read part one I’m tagging this as (tell me again tomorrow fic) because I have no idea how to link it lmao..Enjoy!

I woke up the next morning feeling more energized than usual. It took a second for me to remember Rami, but only a second. A smile spread across my face as I rubbed my eyes. I rolled over in the big fluffy white bed I had all to myself and saw that Alisha’s head was partially hanging off the bed. She must have had the spins last night. She was very drunk when I found her and passed out before her head hit the pillow, literally.

I grabbed my phone on the side table. 7:43 AM and one text message. It was from an unknown number, but I knew who it was.

Rami: hey it’s Rami from yesterday. I know it’s super early but I woke up thinking about you and idk maybe we could get breakfast?

I smiled so big and threw my phone down on my chest, trying to refrain from squealing. I loved that he was up early and already thinking about me. We were too enveloped in each other to drink too much last night, so we escaped the hangover that seemed to wash over the whole hotel.

You: oh yes I remember. I would love to get breakfast with you:) just have to get ready…and check if Alisha is still breathing lol

I jumped out of bed and went to the bathroom to start getting ready. As I brushed my teeth I let my mind wander. I wonder what Rami sounds like in the morning. Or what he looks like when he brushes his teeth. Or what he thought of when he thought of me this morning. But then I stopped myself and pushed those thoughts away. I pushed them away because this is what I did before I started dating my ex. This is what I do.

The second I meet someone that I really like my mind goes crazy and if I let it go far enough I start visualizing what our wedding would be like on the second date. I don’t love many, but I love few too easily and very deeply. It’s dangerous and the reason I alienate myself from everything. I tell myself I’m enjoying the single life, but it’s really just me putting myself in a prison. But now’s not the time for those thoughts, so I put them back in their folder and save it for later when I can’t sleep at 3am and no one is relying on me functioning.

I’m almost finished getting ready when my phone buzzes.

Rami: great! maybe not for Alisha tho. I can pick you up at 9? we can go to that diner across the street if you'd like?

You: sounds perfect! 9 works for me

Rami: okay cool:)

I walked back into the room Alisha and I shared and started to get dressed.

“Uhhhhh fuck my life..” I heard a loud groan from under the pile of blankets on the other bed.

Alisha had woken up and from what it sounds like, gotten hit by a bus.

I grabbed a glass from the dresser and filled it with water from the bathroom sink. She was so lucky I had to carry migraine pills with me all the time. I walked over to her bed and pulled back the covers.

“Well hey there gorgeous!” I said in a chipper, sarcastic voice.

“Shhhhh jeeeesus why are you yelling?” she whisper screamed at me. 

“Oh it’s because I love you. Here take this and drink some water. Give that poor liver a break will ya.”

She sat up, brushing the hair from her face and downing the pills.

“Whoa why are you so done up this early?” she raised her eyebrows.

“I uh met a guy last night sort of..” I trailed off grabbing a shirt from my bag and pulling it over my head.

“Oooo and you slept here last night? Are you crazy? Hasn’t it been like a year since you got some dick?”

“Always so eloquent.” I mumbled while pulling up my jeans.

“He must be something a little extra then huh?” 

“Yeah I mean, we just talked for a long time and he listened. You know really listened. You know how I am with that.”

“Well I’m glad you had a good time yesterday. I was worried you were going to sulk by the bar all night.” she smiled lazily and then fell back into the pillows, closing her eyes. I rolled my eyes at her comment. 

“Oh and would you please do yourself a favor and hop on that? You are wound way too tight for a weekend beach party.” 

I hurled a pillow at her, “I’ll show you wound too tight.”

“No! Show him!” we both laugh hard. I really loved moments like this with her.

I had just finished putting my shoes on when my phone buzzed again. That must be Rami. I walked over to the now sleeping Alisha and kissed her forehead, leaving two more pills on the side table for when she woke up next. I left, shutting the door quietly.

———

Rami pulled up minutes after I came out of the hotel doors. He got out and walked around the car to open the door for me. He looked different than last night. He wore jeans and a fitted t-shirt with a bomber jacket. He looked comfortable and casual and it was so cute.

“Good morning, dear!” he said sweetly. I can’t remember the last time someone called me dear, but I am not complaining.

“Morning!” I smiled at him and climbed into the passenger seat.

He drove us to the diner, and when we walked in the smell of pancakes and bacon filled my nose and made my stomach growl with hunger. The server seated us at a booth in the corner next to a window. She gave us menus and left.

“So did Alisha survive the night?” he asked jokingly.

I looked up from the menu and laughed, “Oh yeah just barely. She woke up just long enough to give me shit and then go back to sleep.”

“Give you shit about?” he inquired, doing that thing with his mouth that I found incredibly endearing.

“Just about yesterday. You know…and you.” I cleared my throat and looked back at my menu, knowing damn well where this conversation was going.

Rami put down his menu and folded his arms on the table, leaning forward a little. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel the grin on his face.

“Oh? Why would she do that?”

There was no way to get out of this subject, so better just get it out of the way.

“Well I mean, I don’t exactly meet people all the time.” I put down my menu and sat back against the booth. 

“Oh come on. I don’t know if I believe that.” he said, biting his lip.

“It’s true. I put blinders on and I go to work and come home and that’s that.”

“Well I get that. I get stuck in that all the time with what I do. But you mean no one ever tries to ask you out ever?”

“Nope. I’m sure a lot of it has to do with how I carry myself, but it really doesn’t bother me. I’d rather not go through the motions with people.” I shrugged.

The waitress came over to pour us some coffee and take our orders. I proceeded to pour nearly all the creamer in my coffee. 

“So you’ve been hurt.” Rami stated, clearly not forgetting the conversation.

I sighed. “Hasn’t everyone?”

He sensed my feelings toward the subject. “Hey I’m sorry if this is too heavy for Saturday morning breakfast with a strange guy you just met.” That lovely smile returned and warmed me up again.

“No it’s okay. I just don’t ever get to talk about this. Alisha is usually there for everything and witnesses it so I don’t have to tell her, and well she’s sort of all I got.” 

“Well you can talk with me about anything you want. You fascinate me.” he sipped his coffee, gazing off in the distance.

“How could I be fascinating?” I ask watching his every move.

“How could you not? I don’t know it’s so many things. The way you talk about things. The way that you basically put me in my place when I approached you yesterday.” I laughed. I did didn’t I? “When you are listening to me talk you chew the inside of your cheek. I don’t know it’s just you. I want to know everything about you.”

I blushed and grabbed for my coffee. No one finds me fascinating. Well I guess that’s not true now though is it?

We ate our food and talked. I told him the story about me and Alisha riding our bikes around on the weekend when we were kids. How she fell and broke her arm so I put her on my bike and took her home as she sat on the handle bars and cried. I got to sign the cast first.

He told me about the time when him and his brother Sami put on a concert in the living room for their parents when they were 6 years old. He told me that he insisted on being the lead singer and how Sami always let him have the spotlight.

You both finished up and Rami took the bill. “Hey do you um, and you can totally say no, but do you want to spend the day with me?” he asked shyly.

I smiled and grabbed his hand as we left the diner. “I would love to, Rami.”

———

We got into Rami’s car and got on the highway. I wasn’t quite sure what the plan was, and usually that would make me uneasy, but the mixture of the warm sun on my skin, the wind blowing through my hair, Duran Duran coming through the stereo, and this gorgeous man that I’d somehow stumbled upon sitting next to me made uneasiness seem impossible.

“Are you wondering where we are going yet?” he asked somewhat mischievously, glancing over at me. He had this way of always looking like he was up to something. It was captivating.

“I don’t mind where we go or what we do.” I beamed.

A few minutes later we pulled up to the Grammy Museum. My mouth dropped open. I look at him, suddenly filled with uncontrollable excitement.

“Are you serious?! Do you know how long I’ve wanted to come here?” I began looking out all the windows. All I could feel was the uncontrollable urge to jump out of the car and run inside, but I kept my composure because I didn’t want to scare him off with my hyper fixations.

I hadn’t quite expressed to Rami my love for music, but I guess he was going to learn today. Ever since I moved to this city I have wanted to come here, but there was always work or anxiety or sleep deprivation. But here I am. 

“I didn’t realize this was such a big thing for you, but now I’m glad I chose this one. Well come on let’s go see it all.” he said quickly. We got out of the car and I grabbed his hand pulling him along inside.

Rami’s POV

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited to be somewhere than her right now. She grabbed my hand as soon as we got out of the car. My heart skipped as I watched her scan the whole place head to toe as we walked in the entrance.

We walked through and came to the Songwriters Hall of Fame first. She would gasp and squeal at the things that caught her eye. If she knew about a particular thing she would go off on a tangent telling me every detail of what she knew. The spark I saw in her when she talked about it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I can’t imagine ever tiring of it.

At the Music Epicenters exhibit she showed me how music jumped from Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry to Elvis and The Rolling Stones. She explained how each section influenced the next and it was fascinating. 

We skipped through the museum like children in Disneyland and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone made me feel like this. She made me let everything go and just hold on to this moment we were sharing. She was incredible. Where has she been all these years?

Your POV

We finished looking through every bit of the museum and it was an amazing experience. At times I worried I was talking too much, but when I’d quiet down Rami would ask me a question. He was the only person who made me feel this comfortable talking about what I loved. He never rolled his eyes, never sighed in boredom. He would smile as I’d explain things and watch me intently with those beautiful eyes that I couldn’t escape.

We decided to go for a walk around a few blocks.

“You really enjoyed that then?” he asked, reaching for my hand which began to feel normal.

“I did. Very much, Rami, thank you for that. And for listening to me ramble.” I giggled.

“Well no need to thank me I loved every second of it.” he grinned and nudged my side.

I took a deep breath and let it out closing my eyes for a moment as we walked.

“You know I almost didn’t come here this weekend.”

“Oh yeah? Why did you decide on it.” he questioned.

“I couldn’t tell you. I just felt like I wanted something to change in my life and doing something I wouldn’t normally do might be a good first step.”

We stopped and sat on the bench along the path we had been walking.

“I want to see you again. I mean after this weekend. I don’t want to continue with real life unless I know you’ll be with me. I mean that is if you want to be with me, of course. I would never force you.” he took both my hands in his and looked into my eyes, hopefully.

I began to tear up a little and I saw his smile turn into worry. I wiped the tear away quickly, trying to hide it but knowing it was too late.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ I cut him off before he could blame himself for anything.

“No, no please don’t apologize. You’ve given me the best day I’ve had in a very long time. I promise I’m not crying because of you it’s just-“

He brought his hand to my cheek and wiped a tear away with his thumb.

“God that’s unfair..” he trailed off, a soft smile forming.

“W-what’s unfair?” I asked confused.

“How gorgeous you are when you cry.” he said sadly.

I giggled, which then turned into a laugh, which turned into me grabbing my sides laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

I looked up at him now looking slightly confused but in an amusing way.

“Oh come here.” I said softly, grabbing either side of his face and pulling our mouths together. It was a sweet, warm, but passionate kiss. His lips felt amazing against mine, and I’d almost forgot the feeling. I broke the kiss and leaned back slightly. His eyes stayed closed for a moment as if to savor it and then they opened as beautiful and gleaming as ever.

“A lot has happened in my past. We can talk about it another day, I promise. Just be patient with me.” I reassured him.

He nodded indicating that he understood. He brought his hand up to brush some hair out of my eyes studying my face lovingly.

“Oh and just because you told me to say this today, you are absolutely stunning.” he laughed and pulled me into his side.

[wonderlustlucas]

saccharine - lee donghyuck

⇢ prompt “This is the only special part so far.” ⇢ pairing haechan x female reader ⇢ word count 2.1k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none ⇢ summary One thing on top of another leads to one Hell of an emotional week. Luckily, the birthday boy with the sun under his skin and a passion when it comes to cinnamon buns is there to save the day.—highschool!au ⇢ a/n idrk what this is,,,,it started as one thing and ended as another BUT ITS OK cuz im so happy with this, i uwu, v cute, its kind of dramatic??and depressing??at first?? but low key relatable so UHHHHH enjoy! happy 18th birthday lee donghyuck ❥

The balance on which your patience and sanity sit on is far too close to teetering off the edge; one minuscule blow and off you will tumble, falling down into a hole of desperation and depression that only breakdowns and napping and pints of ice-cream can fix.

It’s simply an amalgamation of factors that will lead to your potential breakdown, a multitude of unlucky combinations that, in accordance with the universe, lunge upon you all at once. And while life could be much, much worse, it’s the overwhelming panic and desolation that makes it so unbearable.

The first, the least stressful but nonetheless one that has you sitting in bed at night on the brink of tears, is the reality that after a whole four years, one thousand four hundred and sixty days, high school would be over. All the set routines, all the unforgettable memories—all of it, cut off with a signed piece of paper and a handshake.

The second: your ex-boyfriend has someone new. While the breakup was months ago, a lengthy amount of time that allowed for the hopelessness and betrayal to finally diminish until you were back on your feet again, enjoying the life of not being tied down and being able to hook up with anyone you damned please, it hurts. It’s an odd sting, a wrenching in your heart that he has found someone else and you haven’t, a dull ache no matter how hard you convince yourself that you don’t care.

The third element to your disastrous undoing, one that every student faces and dreads: exams. You’re smart, undeniably smart, and that’s what makes exams all the more stressful. The honest-to-goodness want and need to do well, combined with the consequences of procrastination make for a week full of rushed studying and ‘I’ll be fine’s, followed by a two hundred question test slapped in your face at seven in the morning that only partially makes sense.

And the icing on the cake: you are premenstrual. It’s the final blow that makes your closing week of school so atrocious, one that heightens the sadness of this is it for school, the grief of a long ago broken heart, and the monstrous stress of finals. A voice in the back of your head always bitching, bubbling over in your mind that absolutely everything and everyone has to get on your nerves, topped with the undeniable horniness constantly aching in your brain and abdomen along with the wavering self-doubt, euphoria, despair, and irritability.

And even after the last day of school, the final exam, the cheering as you exit the building you’ve been a prisoner in for the past four years, the realization that it’s over, you still are in the grip of a silent panic, an unstoppable snowball fight in the pit of your stomach.

It’s an awkward time of the day once you arrive home from school for the last time, too late to make last minute plans but too early to crash no matter how much your heart calls you to.

Instead, you make a hasty decision to head back out even after you have changed into sweats, opting for a happy middle ground rather than choosing one and ending up disappointed. Off to the bakery you go, driving into the quieter part of town in impassive quietness and staring up at the baby blue sky.

It’s comforting in a strange sort of way, the soporific shade bringing a sense of luxury and serenity like warm milk and honey. However, all good things must come to an end, you realize after you park, abruptly exiting the car and slamming the door closed before making your way up onto the sidewalk.

Like a ghost in a world full of paper dolls you enter the bakery huddled between the bank and antique shop, a place where air is more delicious than any flavor and mouth-watering displays cause more regret than any drunken party ever could.

The cinnamon buns just so happen to be like your Achilles tendon; at the sight of one you’d stop dead in your tracks, the damned things are your nemesis and elixir all in one and there’s simply no denying a decadent treat like this on such a forlorn day.

Upon entering the bakery, you let out a mesmerized sigh at the beckoning aroma of fresh baked cookies and cakes and pastries and you hardly feel a hint of embarrassment when your stomach growls instantaneously. The impending hollow sadness quickly vanishes and is replaced with the sudden sense of tranquility. Finally, you think, stepping up to stand behind a young girl finishing her order, things can only get better from here.

However, just as you’re drilling optimistic thoughts into the confines of your brain, a customer with a dash too much pep in his step bursts through the door from behind you and, astoundingly, cuts in front of your spot with not even an ‘Excuse me.’

You’re flabbergasted, to say the least, sparks in your brain, desperately trying to connect the dots and instead just causing a short circuit. And suddenly you are underwater—everything is slow and warbled and you’re left unable to speak as the culprit has the audacity to move up in line and place his order as if nothing had ever happened.

And with a force like water bursting forth from a dam, brick by brick the walls come tumbling down, tears spilling down your face, struggling to breathe, you turn with a trembling chin to look toward the window, clawing for some sort of comfort in the light outdoors. However, the bustling of customers around you cannot mask the hushed sobs that shake your body, and no matter how furiously you wipe the tears from your cheeks or suck in air to calm your lungs, nothing can hide the fact that you are standing in the middle of a bakery weeping.

“Shit, that was not supposed to happen.”

The gentlest of hands grasping your own pauses your public breakdown, and for a split second, you jerk away from the tender touch until, no matter how hard it is to do so, you glance up.

“Donghyuck,” you hiccup upon recognition, “what’re you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? I should be asking you that,” Donghyuck chortles, “I went to buy you a cinnamon bun and then you started sobbing.”

Oh.

“You didn’t—you never,” you groan, “why didn’t you say hi first instead of cutting in front of me like an idiot?” You grumble, retracting your hands to messily rub away the remaining wet streaks down your cheeks, grossly heaving in oxygen and blinking out a few more tears. “I thought it would be cute and spontaneous, and then you turned to shit,” the tanned boy retorts, turning momentarily to grab the bag coasted across the counter to him before, suddenly, intertwining his fingers with yours and dragging you to a free table.

“So, why’d you go all batshit back there?” Donghyuck asks, rosy heart-shaped lips tugging up into a soft smirk even as he sits you down in the booth and takes a seat across from you. It’s dangerous, you realize; the mocking lilt to his voice paired with kindness that is more than out of place, and, of course, his overall handsomeness. From golden skin, warmer than any sunset you’ve seen, disheveled auburn hair dipping into black eyes with irises shimmering with all the stars in the night sky, cherry red lips that allow one-too-many smartassed words slip by. Lee Donghyuck is truly an enigma.

"Why’d you buy me a cinnamon bun?” You retort finally, reaching for the bag and tearing it open, eager for the delight inside. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “Answer my question first.”

Stubborn. “I’ve had a rough week, and that was just the cherry on top,” you tell him truthfully, “also, how’d you know I was here?”

“One question at a time, tiger.” Snotty. “I didn’t follow you, you’re not that special, although I did see you walk in here with the most miserable look I may have ever seen and thought, ‘Hey, now’s a good time to rekindle what I had with the girl I’ve been crushing on since she dropped me for some fuckface baseball player sophomore year.’“

You blink once and then again, pausing your attack on the first bite of dessert to look up at Donghyuck. Candid. Processing his words, you stare at him blankly, his lips pouted into a smirk once more, “I did not drop you.”

“Babe, you definitely did.” A flirt.

“You’re the one that told all your friends I was a bitch!”

“God, ___, it was a joke. Ever heard of one of those?” Rude. “Can you just shut up and let me eat my cinnamon bun?” You grumble, peeling off a chunk, cinnamon glaze sliding under your nail.

“Technically it’s mine, but fine,” he chuckles, grinning devilishly as you pop the bit into your mouth, a hypnotized sigh escapes your lips and suddenly the golden boy isn’t so wicked. “Fine, I was a baby back then, I’ll admit it. However, if you’re trying to get me to fall for you again, this whole mocking me when I’m emotionally unstable isn’t gonna do it for you.”

Donghyuck processes your words, squinting as you go on with your feast, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the wooden table, “Why was this a rough week?”

“Well, let’s see,” you sigh, counting your fingers, “high school is over and university is going to be stressful, fuckface baseball player has a new girlfriend, exams made me lose brain cells, and my period is coming soon so I want to die.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” he comments, tearing a piece of the cinnamon bun off and you glare at him. “It’s not.”

“At least you have a cinnamon bun now,” beams Donghyuck, kicking your shins under the table and you groan. Childish. Licking your fingers clean you check your phone, glancing at the time and catching the date by chance. Then, “Isn’t today your birthday?”

“You remember?” He asks and your heart lurches at the innocent cloud that passes his features. You nod slowly, returning his smile, “Happy birthday, then.” Donghyuck‘s cheeks flush the faintest shade of coral and at the heat rising upon your own you turn away, clearing your throat and munching on another piece. Angelic.

“Anyway,” you cough, “how’s your birthday been so far? Any plans?”

Donghyuck shrugs, “None yet, just dinner with my family and I’ll probably hang with the boys tomorrow. This is the only special part so far.”

“Oh,” you quip, frantically searching for a spot to look at and settling on a grey pigeon outside, pecking viciously at whatever is on the pavement, “that’s good.” Glancing back to the cinnamon bun, mouth watering at the gooey center, you force the temptation back, “You can have that.”

His eyes light up. “Really?” You nod, laughing, watching joyfully as he instantly snatches the last bit up and shoves it into his mouth. “Fuck, man, that was good, thank you,” Donghyuck rambles, wiping the frosting from his fingers and reaching for your hands.

“So,” he sighs, nestling his hands into your own and squeezing them, “in all seriousness, since we’re going to the same school and all, could we maybe... try the whole dating thing again?” Determined.

Donghyuck grimaces, a fault you never thought you would ever see cross his face, for doubt simply did not exist in his life and here it is, spread out in front of you and your response is the next move in this game of chess. “Hyuck,” you chuckle softly, gliding your thumb across his palm, “I’d be dumber than dumb if I let you get away. Of course I want to try it again.”

“Really?” He squeals, you nod and he clutches you fingers once more. “That’s a relief, I was starting to worry I royally fucked up.” Entertaining.

You laugh again, eyeing him as he slides from the booth and throws out the bag before returning before you. “You certainly did not fuck up, you just made me happy for like, the first time in a week.” You follow him out, walking by his side to your car and squinting past the blinding streaks from the sunset, mesmerized by the melanin of his skin that suddenly seems to glow in the sunlight, reaching for his arm and curling your hand around his bicep. Breathtaking.

“Well, this was good,” Donghyuck gleams, a lighthouse shining out across the sea, pausing in front of the car, “I’ll call you soon?” A gentleman. “Okay,” you sigh blissfully, “I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

He kisses you too quickly, a rushed brush of his lips and then it’s gone with the wind; you have to tug him back, pulling him flush against your form, whispering a “Happy birthday,” because God, your week just got so much better and he’s just too sweet.

[c0mpressed-archived]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

Tagged by: Technically tagged by @intermissum

Tagging: If you see this and haven’t done it, there you go. Do it

SPEED: So I do replies, but the only issue is that I actually do two threads a day from the queue. I often stockpile them in order to have them filtered out and I’m not overwhelmed with a flurry of replies I need to get done. (This is for Kaminari. For Compress, cause I have so few, I try to get them done when I have the energy to). There are times where certain threads appeal to me more than others. I fluctuate a lot. Holding 3 blogs, I do try and keep my time evened out, but with work and school coming up soon, I may be stretched a little thin.

REPLIES: I do try with all my heart to get a reply. I sometimes drop threads that are like a “feel free to interact” if I already have a thread with you, or if it seems to no longer go anywhere. Lengthwise, I never really cared as long as you are happy with it and I can reply to it. It does no one no good if all you write is internal thought and leaves the rp partner with nothing to really do. I don’t require anyone to match length, but more times than not, I’ll try and match theirs.

STARTERS: If you write me one, God Bless you. If I write you one, I try to at least engage in something. I do apologize if any of my starters were just sucky. Random starters are totally cool, but if we got more than 2 threads going, we may need to talk about ending one, haha. For my sanity.

INBOX: I LOVE INBOX ASKS!! BOTH IC AND OOC!! It makes me smile to know that someone is interested in either me or my portrayal of a character. So please!! Feel free to send in whatever question, comment, or concern you have!!!

SELECTIVITY: I’m pretty much a person who accepts anyone. Lately, OCs have been iffy just due to me having some bad experiences in the past, but I am always willing to give them a chance. Any characters from different fandoms that I know want to interact? Send them in! Crossovers are always cool to me!

WISHLIST: uhhhhh definitely more angsty stuff with Kaminari, and a bit more fluff with Compress. And asks regarding to compress and my portrayal of him! I just want to develop him just as I have with Kaminari is all. 

HONEST NOTE: This community scares me sometimes. There are wonderful people as there are terrible people. I want the community to be inclusive and friendly, watch out for one another, and not send threats to people online. I have hope for this community. I’ve never been in the front for drama, but seeing it makes my stomach churn. Especially when someone doesn’t have to say anything but did.

[shackalacklargebottom]

Gonna post this again for my own tags/tagging purposes - originally for omgsuchegobang’s “Fluff Me To Death” contest. Not so fluffy, at least at the beginning, but we’ll get there.

*** *** ***

Subject: Definitely Just Grump Business

From: Arin Hanson (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Alright gang,

Contrary to the clever and misleading subject line, this is NOT just Grump business. That was a ruse to keep Dan off our backs. Pretty smart, right?

We’re a week out, so I wanted to touch base with everyone about Dan’s birthday party. How’s everything coming together?

Your Lord and Commander, Arin

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Suzy (xXgoth_kittyXx@aol.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Cake = covered! …mostly. Dan’s not allergic to peanut butter, right? Are peanuts kosher?

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Barry (nonbarrykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Hey boss!

I’m taking Dan out Friday afternoon so you guys can come by and decorate the apartment. We’ll probably go see a movie or something. How much time do you think you’ll need?

- B

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Barry

…The party’s on Saturday, B.

Grumpily Yours, Arin

Subject: Shit. From: Barry To: Arin

Shit. I, uh, kinda had plans on Saturday…

- B

Subject: Are you shitting me From: Arin To: Barry

Seriously, Barr?

Definitely Grumpily Yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Are you shitting me From: Barry To: Arin

I kid, I kid. Saturday it is.

- B

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Brian (wechtb@qmul.ac.uk) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Arin,

Thank you for the helpful reminder email. I’ve been working on a playlist I think Danny will really enjoy, so consider music/DJ services officially covered.

By the way, make sure to reply ONLY to my work email - Danny has access to the Ninja Sex Party account. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise by mistake.

Best, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Brian

Great. Great. Sounds awesome…. by ��playlist”, you definitely *don’t* mean “every Rush album in order played back-to-back”, right? Just checking.

Final boss, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump B…

From: Brian To: Arin

Arin,

I didn’t say I was finished working on it. I’ll have something, ah… varied, for Saturday.

Adverbially yours, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Dan’s having a birthday party?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Ross

Rosssssssss.

Not amused, Arin

Subject: Fwd: Shit. From: Barry (nonbarrykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

Baaaaabe,

So I kinda maybe forgot Dan’s birthday party was this weekend. Can we switch our plans to Friday night instead? I promised Arin I’d distract Dan while everyone sets up.

- B

Subject: Re: Fwd: Shit. From: Ross To: Barry

Fine… but only ‘cause you’re so cute, y’know?

One condition: you wear that leather thing from the other night.

xoxo Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump B… From: Ross To: Arin

Relax, dude, I’m totally joking. I definitely didn’t have any plans for Saturday.

I’m gonna pick up the decorations after work tomorrow night. The bachelorette party section at Party City should have dick-shaped pinatas, right? Dan’ll LOVE one of those!

xxxx Ross

Subject: I’m gonna make YOUR dick a pinata From: Arin To: Ross

What do you mean, you didn’t have plans for Saturday? Did you and Barry *both* forget about the party?!!? What, were you guys gonna hang out together or something?

Jesus. No. We’re not celebrating Dan’s birthday by beating a giant penis with a stick. I thought we agreed on a beach/island theme?

Get your shit together, Arin

Subject: If my dick were a pinata would I jizz candy? From: Ross To: Arin

No, Barry and I did not forget. How could I forget about Dan’s birthday? I already said I DIDN’T have plans. I didn’t even know Barry had plans. I bet if Barry did have plans, our plans wouldn’t have coincided. At all. And they wouldn’t have involved leather. Who’s Barry, anyway? He sounds like a fun guy.

Fine. Beachy island whatever it is. You just want an excuse to wear a bikini top in front of ~❤Daniel❤~

Wait… Brilliant idea… dicks on the beach! Best surprise birthday party theme ever!! I’m a genius.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Ross To: Barry

Fuuuck. I think Arin might be onto us….

xoxo Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Barry To: Ross

Uh, okay? What do I do if he asks me about it??

- B

Subject: Fess up From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry (nonbarrykreamer@yahoo.com)

Barry,

Buddy. It’s okay. You can tell me the truth.

Unforgettably yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Arin

Fine. Fine. Okay. You got us. Ross and I have been… intimate, for the last couple of months.

We just didn’t want to freak everyone out or mess with the office dynamic or anything!! Especially since we weren’t even sure if it was gonna work out!!! But it’s been going really well and we were gonna tell everyone soon I’M SORRY

Do us a favor and don’t tell Dan, okay? I wanna tell him on my own. Like a roomie thing.

Actually, don’t tell Brian either. He’d want to watch.

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Ross To: Barry

I think I managed to cover for us pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself, so just be cool and don’t say anything if he asks.

xoxo Ross

Subject: FUCK From: Barry To: Ross

FUCK I LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG

(OUT OF THE CLOSET, WHATEVER)

I’M SORRY

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Barry CC: Ross (hotrossbuns@gmail.com)

Wait, what? You’re gay? Or bi or pan or??

?????, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Arin, Ross (see details)

Uhhhhh, yep, as it turns out… wait, what were YOU talking about?

- B???

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Barry, Ross (see details)

I just meant you can tell me you forgot about Dan’s birthday!!! Holy shit. Well, congrats dude. Although why you’d wanna be stuck with Ross is beyond me.

Speaking of, can you please make sure he doesn’t buy anything inappropriate for the party? I had to remind him a pinata shaped like a schween probably isn’t going to fit the theme.

Royally yours, Princess Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Ross, Arin (see details)

YOU’RE GETTING US A PEEÑATA?! Dan’s gonna love it!!

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Ross, Barry (see details)

NO, he is NOT.

No dicks allowed, Arin

Subject: Suck my candy-flavored cock Hanson From: Ross To: Arin, Barry (see details)

YES, he IS. Why, does the thought of Dan seeing another dick make you ~jealous?

xxxx Ross

PS Barry! “Peeñata”! You’re hilarious, babe.

Subject: Fuck off Ross From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

…………../´¯/) …………,/¯../ ………../…./ …../´¯/’…’/´¯¯`·¸ ../’/…/…./……./¨¯\ (’(…´…´…. ¯~/’…’) ..…………….’…../ ..“….……… _.·´ …..………….( …….…………\

Definitely not jealous of a paper-mâchè cock, Arin

Subject: Boring Work-Related Email From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Okay everybody. Doubling down because there seems to be some… confusion about this party situation.

Suzy, the cake sounds great. Dan’s probably not religiously opposed *or* allergic to peanuts, since yesterday I watched him inhale a family-sized bag of mini Reese’s cups in under twenty minutes, and he survived to make it to the Grump session this morning.

Brian, lots of Rush is cool, but maybe we could try adding some songs people can dance to?

Barry, we’ll probably need about two hours to decorate. Taking Dan to a movie is perfect.

Ross… just remember what I said about dicks.

Stay sparkly, Arin

Subject: Jog my memory From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

But Arin, you say so MUCH about dicks. How can I possibly remember one specific instance?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Boring Work-Related Email From: Brian (wechtb@qmul.ac.uk) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy

Hello again, all,

The only thing left to do is get creative with the tech setup. I’m thinking disco ball, laser light show, maybe a smoke machine? Something really tasteful and understated. Let me know your thoughts.

Murderous regards, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related Email From: Suzy (xX_gothkitty_Xx@aol.com) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Ross (see details)

Getting ExCiTeD! About this party! Here’s a mock-up of the cake decorations.

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Attached: cakedeco.jpg

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related Em… From: Arin To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy

Brian, do you have a disco ball? Or lasers or a smoke machine?

And Suzy, that looks incredible! …I’m just not sure how a creepy tombstone cake fits in with our “beach party” theme?

Your Stalwart General, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related … From: Brian To: Arin, Barry, Ross, Suzy

I certainly have some broken glass, a military-grade laser pointer, and incidental knowledge of how to produce smoke by starting some fires. We can start there.

Resourcefully yours, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Relat… From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Suzy, how big is this cake gonna be? I have an idea >:)

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Re… From: Suzy To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Ross (see details)

Um, normal cake-sized? Why?

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work…

From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Do you have a pan big enough to fit a person in? I bet Dan would like it if someone popped out of the cake. Someone tall. And grumpy. With long hair. And a blond streak. Maybe scantily clad, wearing a bikini top perhaps? I really think it would fit the theme.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring W… From: Brian To: Arin, Barry, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Ross,

My friend… you put the stripper inside after you bake the cake.

Best, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Mind blown From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Ohhhhh.

xxxx Ross

Subject: CUT THE CRAP YOU GUYS From: Arin To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

We are NOT hiring a STRIPPER to pop out of Dan’s cake!!!!!!!!!!!!

Graghgrlsdflkjgf! Arin

Subject: Arin do you have a G-String From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Yeesh. Obviously not. Why would we hire someone when you’ll do it for free, Arin?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Babe… From: Barry (nondairykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@gmail.com)

Maybe you should let up on Arin a little bit?

Also, I miss you. Come over to my office?

- B

Subject: Re: Babe… From: Ross To: Barry

What? I’m just helping him on his ~journey of ~self-discovery.

On my way!

xoxo Ross

Subject: Cake? From: Suzy (xXgoth_kittyXx@aol.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Hey! Would you really pop out of Dan’s cake? That would be soooo cute! :3

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Cake? From: Arin To: Suzy

No, I would not. Ross is just being a prick.

Modestly yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Cake? From: Suzy To: Arin

Oh… okay. Are you sure? I really think Dan would get a kick out of it…

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Cake?

From: Arin To: Suzy

Geez. Not you too, Suze. I don’t really appreciate all the jokes, okay? I’m just trying to do something nice for a friend here.

Sigh, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Cake? From: Suzy To: Arin

I wasn’t joking? :(

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

In the immortal words of everyone, ever,

God dammit Ross.

Can you just get off my back please? All I wanna do is throw Dan a goddamn birthday party. Please. This is difficult enough as it is.

Either help me out or don’t, Arin

Subject: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Ross To: Arin

Hey, it’s Barry. Ross is… busy.

He says he’s sorry. Well, actually, what he said was “hmmwaahlfrrrgl,” but I’m pretty sure that means “I’m sorry”. It’s kinda hard to tell with his mouth full.

For what it’s worth, I think you’re taking this a little seriously. Dude, it’s a party! It’s supposed to be fun!

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Arin To: Ross

Wait, his mouth is…?

??? Oh my God. I’m just… gonna ignore that for now. You pervs.

I just want everything to be nice for Dan, is that so bad?

Virtuously yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Ross To: Arin

Dude, Dan will love anything you do for him. Don’t stress so much.

- B

PS It’s all good, Bossman. We got you covered.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Birthday Jamz From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Ninja Sex Party (ninjasexparty@gmail.com)

Yooo Brian!

Do you have all the music set for Dan’s party? I have a couple requests I was thinking might be fun. Nothing that’ll make Arin freak out, I swear.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Birthday Jamz From: Ninja Sex Party To: Ross

arin’s throwing me a party? :D :D :D :D

wait, was it supposed to be a surprise???

- dan

Subject: YOU KICKING MY ASS From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

FUCK!!! IT IS NOT ALL GOOD BOSSMAN

I DO NOT HAVE YOU COVERED

I AM SO SO SO SORRY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: YOU KICKING MY ASS From: Arin To: Ross

What did you do?!?!?!?!?!

*** *** ***

Arin stood overlooking the city on the small back balcony of Dan and Barry’s apartment. The sun trailed pink and orange streaks, dipping low behind the skyline. An oversized hibiscus blossom tucked behind one ear swayed in the wind as Arin sipped his drink as morosely as one could sip virgin piña colada mix from a plastic tiki head. Heedless to his absence, the party thumped on inside.

The door behind him slid softly open. Dan joined him on the railing. His nose was striped with a thick block of white sunblock, and a chunky disposable camera hung around his neck and chest, bare from his unbuttoned, clashy Hawaiian shirt. He balanced a fork and a grayish palette of cake and mushed icing in one hand as he shut the door behind him.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” he asked, playful.

“Just getting a breather,” Arin said, hurriedly forcing energy into a cheerful smile.

Pausing, Dan smiled thinly. Arin’s skin prickled at the calculatory scan the older man gave him. “It’s a great party, dude,” Dan said, after a moment. “You should be proud.”

“I guess so,” Arin said, shrugging. A breath, and then - “You’re not just saying that?”

Dan nodded vigorously, curls bobbing up and down. “Of course not. What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know. I had to convince Brian not to start a fire in your living room, for one,” Arin sighed.

“Sounds like a normal Saturday, then,” Dan said. He shoveled a glob of icing into his mouth. “Suzy did a great job with the cake,” he chewed, orchestrating the point with jabs of his fork.

“You’ve got,” Arin said, automatically, “frosting,” and reached out to swipe the corner of Dan’s mouth with his thumb. Dan blushed, freezing Arin before he realized himself and what he’d just done. Recovering, he said “You, uh, don’t think the tombstone thing is a little… morbid? For a birthday party?”

The older man cocked an eyebrow. “I thought it was supposed to be a big blobby shark.”

Arin actually chuckled at that, softly, but sincerely. Dan grinned loosely and was about to continue when a rolling tide of muffled cheers erupted from inside. Arin’s eyes widened, manic, for a second, but Dan only laughed and shook his head. “I really loved the piñata, too,” he said. “Ross is such a fucker.”

“Tell me about it,” Arin said, immediately glowering. “I told him like, a HUNDRED times not to get the giant dick.”

“Who cares, man? Candy delivery system’s a candy delivery system,” Dan retorted. Arin smiled, small. Dan’s grin faded. “Hey, come on,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Arin opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, lowering his gaze. “What is it?” Dan repeated, to no answer. Taking a bit of cake on his fork, his expression settled into grim determination as he slowly pressed forward, gently dotting Arin’s nose with frosting once, twice, three times before the younger man lost his battle and his face untwisted into a smile. Arin glared at Dan reproachfully for just a second, before allowing himself to be fed a bit of cake.

Satisfied, Dan set the empty plate down and looked to his friend again. “Arin,” he said, gingerly.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a surprise,” Arin said, finally. “I just wish I could’ve made it better. Or gotten you something better, I don’t know.”

Dan looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Well,” he said, “surprise me now.”

Arin frowned. “Right,” he stuttered, “right now?”

“Mhm,” said Dan, decisively. He covered his eyes with his hands.

“I don’t-” Arin began, stopping short. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest. If he was wrong about what Dan wanted…

Slowly, Arin stepped forward and closed the gap between them. He barely breathed, hoping the quiet rush of traffic and dampened music and chatter from inside would cover him. As his skin buzzed, Arin brushed one hand into the collar of Dan’s shirt to steady himself - and insistently pressed their lips together.

Dan tasted like pineapples and sugar, and something softly musical bubbled up from his throat as he returned the kiss. Eyes closed and heavy-lidded, Arin felt Dan’s fingertips brush past flower petals to sweep his hair behind his ear, then gently cup his face. He threaded his fist more firmly into the fabric and let the kiss deepen further, pulling Dan closer. He felt just the barest coaxing of Dan’s tongue on his lips before another ripple of laughter and chatter from inside startled them both back into reality.

Jumping, Arin tried to pull back, but Dan held him solidly in place, turning slowly from the door back to the younger man as he deemed the coast clear. Still cupping Arin’s face, he rubbed Arin’s nose with his own, affectionately, before allowing Arin a delicate half-step back.

“You’ve got,” Dan said, sheepishly, “here,” and rubbed a bit of sunblock off Arin’s nose with his thumb. Arin made a small, content noise, low in his chest.

“Dan?”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

[jimlingss]

Rent-a-Boyfriend™

Words: 12k Genre: Extreme fluff for all you bitter people out there (me being included) Read the sequel drabble: here Read more at Service Series 

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“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” His voice blares over the phone and you move away, wincing.

“What the fuck Hoseok? Do you even know what time it is over here?” You groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Honestly? No.” He laughs. “The time zones over here are pretty different. What? It’s like nine am?”

“Yes. Fuck.” You moan, scratching your bedhead. “I wanted to sleep in.”

“But it’s your birthday!” He whines.

“Exactly. I’ve been busting my ass at work these past few days. Just let me sleep.” You sigh. “Even when you’re half across the ocean, you’re still annoying me.”

“I just feel bad that you’re spending your birthday alone.”

“Who said I’m spending it alone?”

“Well...what are your plans then?”

Netflix. Wine. In your pajamas on the couch all day. “None of your business.” You sharply answer and he giggles.

“Are you planning to just order pizza and catch up on some TV?”

“Hey!” You shout defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” You can practically envision his wide grin. “It’s just I got you a birthday gift. It should be arriving any second now.”

“Wha-” Right on cue, the doorbell rings and you groan. “Give me a second!” You shout, staggering to your feet and pulling a cardigan over your pajamas. “What the hell did you get me Hoseok?” You mutter and he only laughs in response.

The moment you open the door, you’re met with a taller, blonde boy standing in front of you. He’s looking at you expectantly, suppressing a huge smile with lips upturned. Without a doubt, he’s cute; dashing to say the least and outwardly handsome, even a blind person would agree. But you were too tired to ogle him for long and you were already popping your head out the doorway, darting your eyes around. Where was the package?

“Hello.” The delivery man grins and you look back at him, wondering why he was wearing a fancy, black suit.

“Hi…” You grumble out with your sleepy voice. “Do you have something for me?”

“Have something for you…?” He tilts his head, a bit confused. “Oh! Should I have gotten you flowers?”

“What?”

“I’ll keep a mental note to get you flowers next time.” He beams at you. “What kind of flowers do you like?”

“Wait….” Your frown deepens and your temples begin pulsing. Hoseok giggles on the phone. “I’m going to have to call you back.” You mumble, quickly hanging up. The stranger blinks with a charming smile. “Who are you?”

“Oh!” He jumps. “I haven’t introduced myself at all, huh? I deeply apologize! My name is Kim Taehyung!”

“And…?”

“And I’m your boyfriend!”

You freeze, hand still on your doorknob and mouth drawing open. Maybe this is some sort of dream; you’ve been single for so long, so your subconscious drew up some kind of fantasy of a cute stranger appearing at your doorstep, calling himself your boyfriend. That must be it. There’s no other way.

You’re gawking at him dumbfounded, words repeating slowly in your head as the gears begin to crank in your brain.

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The last time you checked, you didn’t have a boyfriend.

He grins, looking more adorable than ever at your confusion.

“WHAT?!”

//

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You reach for the remote, shutting off the television before the commercial can even finish. The flashes and neon lights of the advertisement still burn to the back of your eyes.

“Do you get it now?” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle as he grins at you.

You’re baffled, not knowing how to cope when everything was unravelling so quickly in your hands. “Uhhhhh……” He waits patiently for your response, sitting on the edge of your couch. “Just...give me a second. I need to make a phone call…”

You grab your phone off the table, beginning to retreat backwards into your bedroom. “Okay.” He quips with the tilt of his head.

You bolt to your room, shutting the door.

“What the hell Hoseok?” You immediately speak the moment the call goes through.

He laughs over the phone. “I guess he came?”

“Yeah, he showed up all right. The fuck is all this? What were you thinking?! Are you insane?!”

“Hey, hey, loosen up, will you? I thought it was a fun idea. You know it’ll help you relax and chill out. You’re always stressed out anyways.”

You sigh, ruffling your bird’s nest hair. “It’s as sketchy as hell.”

“No it’s not.” He whines in a half grumble. “My cousin used it during her sister’s wedding. They’re legit! You don’t have to worry about your house getting robbed or anything like that.”

“I even personally picked out the guy for you!” Hoseok adds on and your frown only deepens, especially when you’re trying to untangle the knots in your hair.

“What? What did you even say?”

“Well...I requested a fun-loving guy that’s energetic and cute. Your type right?”

“Hoseok. That’s my fucking opposite type.” You run a hand over your face in exasperation. “You know I like chill people! Mellow and not exhausting to be around!”

He laughs again and if he wasn’t across the ocean, you probably would’ve tried strangling him. “At least he’s cute right? I mean, they sent me a bunch of pictures and I picked him.” You groan. “Hey, just think of it as getting a massage or paying for a simple service to just wind down at the end of the day...like an escort?”

“...I’m going to kill you when you come back here.”

“That’s in two months Y/N~”

“I fucking hate you and your shit and the shit you put me through.”

“Trust me, this is good. Have I ever, ever made you do something that wasn’t good?”

“You made me fucking hike up that mountain.”

“And it was fun! Right? …...Aside from the part where you broke your ankle...but everything turned out fine!”

You sigh. “I’m leaving. He’s still waiting.”

“Don’t leave your new boyfriend waiting Y/N~ Bye!”

“Bye bitch.” You hang up a minute later, finally getting yourself up from your unmade bed to the door.

Maybe he’s right, you begin to think to yourself. Your life hadn’t been that exciting in the past few months, especially in the romance area and maybe this is what you needed all along. Maybe a pretend boyfriend will be good practice to somehow reel you into the right path again.

You’re nodding to yourself, walking back into your living room. But the moment you turn your head, he’s still waiting and sitting on the edge of your couch with a huge grin, like a puppy.

That’s when you realize….

You can’t do this.

What kind of person has a fake boyfriend to play pretend?! This is a human life, not the sims game! It’s not like you were even lonely in the first place! You don’t need a man to be happy! Fuck Hoseok and what he thinks is good for you or fun. He can go eat your dirty socks.

“Get out.” You hitch your thumb at your main door.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and his lips fall. He leans forward, blinking once. “W-what?”

“Go away. I don’t need your service. Thanks but no thanks.” You cross your arms. “I’m not interested.”

“W-wait..hold on.”

You eject the cd of the commercial, slapping it into his hands while dragging his arm up and to the door. “D-do you still not understand how this works?”

“Oh. I understand all right. Please leave.” You open the door, ready to shove him out, but he still stands at the doorway, foot blocking so that you can’t slam it in his face.

“Wait! Wait! Your friend already prepaid an entire month!?!!” He’s looking more confused as ever, desperate and shocked.

A fucking month? Holy sh-

“You gotta be kidding me.” You raise your hand to your forehead. “NO! Just get out!”

“Did I do something wrong?!”

The both of you are struggling at the door, you trying to push him out but him trying to push inside. “No! You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s just too fucking weird!”

“I literally can’t go! It’s already prepaid! I’m going to get yelled at and get fired!”

“Can’t you just return his deposit?!”

“No we can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know why! It’s just policy!”

“Then take the money!” You shout bitterly, still struggling.

“I can’t leave in good moral conscience!” He grits his teeth and finally wins when you take a step back, too exhausted and the door crashes against the wall. You glare at him, huffing tiredly, and he’s breathless too. “I’ll treat..you...well…” He manages. “It’s just...for a...month.”

You’re defeated.

‘It’s a fun idea.’

‘It’ll help you relax.’

‘Think of it as a service.’ ‘Think of it as a service.’ ‘Think of it as a service.’

Hoseok’s voice rings over and over and over inside your head. You scream, whipping your arms to get rid of his chirpy laughter. Maybe you really do have a few loose screws inside your head. Maybe you’re really just losing it.

You stare at Taehyung for a long time, breathing heavily with tired eyes.

“Fine.”

“What?”

“I said fine!” You scream, not believing what was falling from your lips.

His eyes twinkle and he grins. “So I can be your boyfriend?”

“What the fuck did I just get myself into?” You mutter under your breath. You nod before you can take anything back. “Yes. Yes you can.”

The stranger, Taehyung takes your hands suddenly, spinning you in a circle while he giggles. “This is going to be great! You won’t regret it!”

You sigh tiredly.

You really better not regret this.

//

He clears his throat. “So to recap…” You lean your chin in your hand, elbow to your kitchen counter. “We’re going to do everything that is romantic but no physically touching aside from hugs or cuddles, no kisses and nothing sexual or else the contract is nullified?”

Taehyung nods a bit too enthusiastically. For a moment you think he might break his own neck. “Yup! We’ll go on dates and I’ll give you texts and calls too!”

“Uh huh…Great.”

“Do you have any preferences?” He bats his lashes eagerly.

You frown. “...preferences?”

“Dating preferences!” He smiles. “Do you like the caring type? The bad boy type? The cold type? Where do you want to go on dates? Do you like being pampered with gifts?”

“No. No.” You wave your hand exhaustingly. “Anything’s fine. Just be yourself.”

He tilts his head, a slight knot between his brows. “...be myself?”

“Yeah. Just be yourself.”

It seems to take a few seconds before the request registers in his head, as if he’s never heard it before in his career. “Okay…” He nods to himself with pouted lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow then!” He smiles perfectly with a nod.

“Tomorrow?”

“Our first date! A dinner date!”

“Okay.” You sigh. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll pick you up at six!” You nod slightly when he’s at the doorway, flashing one big smile. “See you tomorrow Y/N!”

“Bye Taehyung.”

“Bye!”

“Uh huh. Bye.” You finally shut the door, sliding down the surface and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

…...

....

..

You just got a boyfriend, that’s what.

//

It’s a Friday night when you’re lying on your couch, thankful that the weekend is finally here. You’ve poured yourself a glass of wine, watching netflix with half-lidded eyes, dozing off slowly. You’re about to give it to the seduction of sleep, catch up on the many hours that you’ve missed for work but then your phone violently vibrates on the table (scaring the shit out of you).

Unknown number: I’ll be there in ten minutes! ~^.^~

“What the f-” You frown, rubbing your eyes. It only takes you a second before you’re suddenly wide awake again. “Oh my god.”

You rush to your bathroom, looking at the mess of makeup that was still on your face from the workday. You’re absolutely frantic, running to your closet to pull out clothes but that’s when it hits you….who cares?

It’s not like this was an actual date. It’s not like you have an actual boyfriend.

He was probably going to take you out to a burger joint anyways.

You sigh tiredly, slowing down and taking more of your time. You throw a sweater on top of your pajama top, swapping sweatpants for comfortable leggings instead, like the true lazy lifestyle you live. Then you wipe off all your makeup, splashing your face with cold water. The rest of the time, you sit back down on the couch to finish the episode that you were watching, downing the rest of the wine in your glass.

As promised, he arrives….in a fucking suit. “Good evening Y/N!” He exclaims with a grin and you nod reluctantly.

“Hey.” You look at the bouquet of red roses in his hands. “Is that for me?”

He looks down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, handing it to you. “Oh! Yes they are! They reminded me of you because they are so beautiful. And speaking of which, you do look lovely today.”

Was this guy serious? You looked like you were ready to walk to the convenience store and straight back home. “....thanks. Want to come in?”

He smiles as he steps inside your abode, watching as you place the flowers on the counter of your kitchen. “I’ve made dinner reservations at seven.”

“Sounds good.” You sigh. “You should’ve texted me when you got here though. You didn’t need to come all the way up.”

“It’s no big deal. I really don’t mind at all. I’d do anything for you.”

You turn on your heel, glaring at him. “Are you always this perfect?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” You huff out, waving your hand. “We should get going though, right? You said the reservations were at seven?”

“Oh yes!” He practically jumps.

You usher him out of the house, locking up before the both of you head down the elevators. Like the gentleman he acts like, he opens the car door for you and guides you in. As he drives, you lean to look out the window.

“So...where are we going?”

“To a restaurant.” He smiles, sitting upright while still looking out the road.

“Uh huh…”

“How was your day today?” He asks eagerly.

“Tiring.” You add. “People can be hard to deal with.” He hums in agreement. “How was yours?”

“Me? It was good. It’s even better now that I’m with you.”

You frown at him, scoffing. “Are you being serious? You barely know me.”

He scoffs...or at least that’s what you think he did because then he suddenly turns it into a cough a second later after realizing how unchivalrous the action was. “I mean...I don’t need to know you to know what a wonderful person you are. Don’t worry though. I will get to know you well.”

He adds. “You’re my girlfriend after all.”

You’re about to object but in a way….you guess you were his girlfriend. He was technically your boyfriend.

You arrive at the restaurant soon after, Taehyung quickly exiting the car and making his way around to open your door, despite your protests. He even opens the doors of the restaurant for you and the waitress leads you to the table according to the reservations.

You’re baffled and this time - it’s not because of him.

“Taehyung.” You whisper, lowering the menu from your face. “What the hell.”

“What’s wrong?” He frowns with worry.

“You didn’t tell me that it was a fancy restaurant!” You dart your eyes around at the luxurious tables, windows draped with red curtains, the soft chandelier lights and the people dressed like it’s their wedding. The waiters and waitresses are quiet, dressed in white and sauntering around with trays in one hand. It’s the type of restaurant that people would propose at and it’s as if you were thrown into a James Bond movie.

He laughs. “Where did you think we were going to go?”

You’re still gaping at him. “I don’t know. A fast food restaurant? Somewhere to grab fries and a burger?”

His mouth is still drawn into a huge grin, one of amusement. “Why would I do that?”

“The prices here are outrageous!” You point to the steaks on the menu, costing more than two hours of your pay.

“It’s our first date. I’m not just going to bring you anywhere.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “I need to impress you.”

“And I’m so under dressed.” You look down at your leggings and sweater, your pajama shirt peeking out at the bottom. Your hair is barely put together and your face is completely bare. You can’t help but feel inferior and self-conscious to the beautiful women who strut to their seats, gown sweeping the floor.

“You look beautiful, don’t worry.” He smiles gently.

Before you can respond in curses, the waiter returns with a huge smile, looking like a stiff mannequin. “Here is your sparkling cider.” He pours it in both your glasses. “Are you ready to order?”

Taehyung looks at you and you nod. “I’ll take the chicken marsala.” It’s the cheapest thing on the menu yet it still hurts when you look at the price.

He looks over to Taehyung. “I’ll have the roasted rack of lamb.”

“Okay.” He happily takes both your menus. “I’ll get that going for you two. Please do call me if you would like anything more.”

You watch as the waiter leaves before you turn to Taehyung. You stare at him emotionlessly, and he stares back with enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?”

“From now on, don’t be cheesy.” You tell him, unfolding your napkin to sit on your lap. “I hate cheesy lines.”

He nods with thought. “Okay.”

“Just be natural. Be yourself.”

//

The both of you enjoy dinner in somewhat silence, broken by Taehyung’s nosy questions and charming one liners. You both talk about your likes and dislikes in between mouthfuls before you’re both finished. When the cheque comes, he insists that he pays and you two sit around arguing for a bit.

“I’m a working grown lady! I can pay for my own food! I probably make even more money than you!”

“It doesn’t matter! Just let me.”

“I don’t need your courtesy!”

“Don’t worry about it!”

You finally give up, and he pays, somewhat of a distraught expression on his face despite his words.

As Taehyung drives you home, you talk about Hoseok and how annoying he is even when you met him back in high school. He goes on a long rant about how dogs are better than cats and then you talk about your hobbies (netflix and wine obviously). You contemplate for a moment that it was actually a nice change of pace for once.

“You want to come in?” You ask when you’re both standing in front of your door.

“No I’m okay.” He grins. “It’s the first date so…”

You scoff with a smile. “Suit yourself.” He shifts from one foot to the other and you’re both lingering awkwardly. “Well…” You clear your throat. “I enjoyed myself today.”

His eyes widen, twinkling. “Really?!”

“Yeah...I did actually.” You admit in a smaller voice, more to yourself than him.

“That’s good.” His lips widen even more. “I’m glad. So we’ll do this again?”

“Well…” You hum out. “I’ll think about it.”

“We have a month together left…” He reminds you.

“I’ll think about it.” You repeat back and he laughs.

“I’ll text you. Goodnight Y/N.” Without a moment to think, he leans down and pecks your cheek with his soft lips, only for a mere split-second.

You’re shocked, taken back but before you can say anything, he turns and walks down the hallway. You laugh to yourself, finally entering your abode.

Maybe a boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all.

//

Taehyung texts you several times through your work day. He says good morning, if you’ve eaten lunch yet, what you were doing and a good night every single day. He even goes forth and sends selfies of himself in bed with bed hair to a picture of him drinking his morning coffee to even a dog on the street.

When you don’t respond, message after message, he calls.

“What do you want?” You draw out tiredly.

“You didn’t respond to my texts!” He whines. “I was worried! Are you busy?”

You sigh tiredly, exaggeratedly so that he can hear. “Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t text me unless you need to.”

There’s a long drawn out silence. “Am I being too clingy for you?”

“Yes.” You immediately feel guilt, beginning to retrace your words. “I don’t mind. It’s nice actually…..” You admit. “but just less, please. A little less.”

“Okay.” You can already imagine him smiling.

“I have to get back to work now…”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s go on a date tonight!”

“Date?” You frown.

“Are you busy?”

You contemplate if you should answer ‘yes’. You were tired, wanting to catch up on more tv and hit the sack earlier but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty if you lied to him. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you did enjoy yourself last time. “....no. I’m not busy.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight! Let’s go to the movies! So pick which one you want! Bye Y/N!” He hangs up before you can say otherwise.

You sigh yet again.

“Your boyfriend?” A co-worker beside you chirps up in interest. She was probably eavesdropping but you don’t particularly mind, it’s not like you haven’t done it before yourself and work was going dreadfully slow today.

You manage a stiff smile and a nod. “Something like that…”

//

He picks you up from your apartment again but this time you’re already outside, so he doesn’t have to make the trip all the way to your door. Seeing you out, he profusely apologizes and asks if you were waiting for long but you answer him with a cold glare and your hand holding your phone, showing the time.

7:50 pm.

He was already ten minutes early.

“You don’t need to apologize. I wanted to wait out here.”

He nods, taking back at how you weren’t receiving all of his bullshit today.

You were just tired, from work and him. He was a bit...no he was too much.

“Are you serious?” You look at him when the both of you are in the car, a bouquet of flowers in your lap.

“Don’t you like flowers?”

“I don’t need them every single time! That’s too much!”

There’s a small, mischievous smile that appears on his lips for a split-second before it disappears. He clears his throat, becoming serious again. “Should I get you chocolates instead? Do you like jewelry?”

“No! No. I don’t want gifts. I don’t need anything.”

He bolts his head over at you with a frown, staring at you in horror.

You were completely different from all his other ‘girlfriend’ clients before who wanted him to act a certain way, give them immense affection and shower them with endless gifts. You were odd. Very odd.

Has there ever been someone like you?

“WATCH THE ROAD!” You shout, pointing out the windshield, and he breaks out of his trance, slightly swerving the car when he regains focus again. “Are you trying to kill us?!”

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

“There’s no sorries when I’m dead.” You pout, crossing your arms. “Thanks so much boyfriend.”

He laughs, genuinely this time and a bit obnoxiously too, ringing in your ears. It’s different from his polite one. You like it better. A lot better.

“So what do you want to watch?” You ask him as the both of you stare at the screen flashing movie titles.

He glances at you. “You can pick.”

“It really doesn’t matter to me.” You huff out. “Hurry up and pick one.”

He hums for a really long moment. “Marley and me?”

“Oh...it’s an old film. Guess they’re replaying it?” You turn to him. “Are you sure?”

He frowns. “Why, do you not want to? We can change it if you want! We can watch whatever! Do you want to see something else instead?”

“Calm down.” You put out your hands. “I’m fine with anything.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “I like dogs anyways.”

“Oh...this movie’s going to be so great for you then.” You smirk, already having an idea what was going to happen. You hadn’t ever sat down and watched the film before but you had an idea of how it ended.

Nonetheless, you bought the tickets this time and the both of you sat down smack dab in the middle of the theater.

You thought he was going to pull some greasy moves like throwing an arm over your seat to slowly and smoothly pull you in or hold your hand or at least whisper seductively into your ear but not at all. He’s transfixed the entire time, eyes glued to the screen and hand burying inside the bag of popcorn to stuff his mouth barbarically. He’s transfixed the entire time, like a child incredibly invested in the movie. It’s like he forgot you were even there.

Not that you particularly mind, if anything you liked it better that way. He wasn’t trying to act as your perfect boyfriend but instead, genuinely enjoying himself.

You find yourself glancing over and smiling several times.

//

“What...the hell was that?” Taehyung chokes out, still sobbing. His eyes are completely swollen red, saliva escaping his mouth and snot dripping down from his nose. You can’t help but laugh a bit, only quickly covering it up as a cough when he shoots you a glare.

As you exit the theater, people are shooting you odd looks. “Taehyung….people are going to think that I bullied you.” You lean over to him, whispering as he’s choking back his wails, still weeping.

“Is that all you care about?” He croaks out at you.

You smile widely at him, taking his arm. “I’m just saying that you should calm down. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, sniffling back.

“Will you be okay?”

“Maybe….probably.”

The both of you decide to take a walk at the small park from across the street since the night weather was rather nice and Taehyung was in no condition to drive.

You both walk for a bit before settling down on a bench together. He’s no longer crying, only cheeks and the tip of his nose tinted rouge, largely from the cool air. He glances at you once he notices you're staring and his eyes almost immediately light up.

“Oh!” Taehyung begins peeling off his jacket. “You must be cold.”

You laugh, stopping his hands. “Calm down kid. I’m not cold. I have a thicker jacket than you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his jacket back on and zipping it all the way up. The both of you bask in the silence, cars zooming past, trees rustling and the distant music of the movie theater seeping into the air. Taehyung’s presence seems to comfort you and that only puts you more on edge, alarming you even further.

“So…..how many clients do you have?”

He turns to you, looking taken back. “Clients?”

“Girlfriends.” You add. “People like me.”

“Uhhhhhhh……………………” He frowns in disbelief, almost as if you had uttered it in parseltongue.

You smile, tilting your head. “I’m just curious that’s all. You don’t have to look so afraid. If it’s too personal, you don’t need to answer.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that...no one’s ever asked.” No one, especially the clients themselves, want to know how many people he’s seeing aside from them. If anything, they’ve all avoided the topic like the black plague. He shifts, inhaling a breath. “Probably thirty clients?”

“Thirty? Wow.” You jut out your bottom lip in thought, nodding.

“Thirty to forty. Some of them are only a one time thing like to a wedding.” He glances at you to catch any signs of jealousy but you’re a brick wall, showing no emotion but amusement. “I’ve been working there for about a year so it’s an average amount.”

There’s a thought that churns inside your head, making you feel turmoil and unease. You know you shouldn’t ask, that you really don’t want to know but you can’t shake off the question. It lingers and attaches to you. Just ask! Just ask him! Ask him and you’ll know!

“Other than me, are you working for any clients right now?” You stare deep into his eyes, trying to sound light.

There was no reason for you to feel jealous. It was illogical. This was his job after all, he was a boyfriend to countless girls before and you were just one of many. But the past never mattered, you wanted to know right now. While he went on dates with you, did he call someone else afterwards? Did he hold hands with another girl after texting and calling you? You wanted to know if you were the only one. Right. Now.

Taehyung smiles, lifting his hand to show his fingers. “Two.” Is all he says. “Two other clients and you.”

“Ah. I see.”

You can’t answer much, instead ripping your gaze off of him to stare at the lightpost.

You don’t have a reason to be jealous.

So what?

You’ve been on only two dates after all.

He wasn’t really your boyfriend.

Two other girls?

Why doesn’t it even matter?

Somehow you can’t help but feel nauseated. Taehyung is too close for comfort and it feels like he’s suffocating you, smothering you. You suddenly feel disgusted with him, with yourself; anxiety and insecurities swirling in the pits of your stomach. You aren’t good enough for someone like him, for anyone for that matter; you couldn't even get yourself a real boyfriend. And at that same time, you can’t help but feel lied to. All the affections and one liners Taehyung ever spared was because it was his job, not because he genuinely meant it.

You’re on the verge of tears, wanting to burst like a pressurized capsule. You want to demand answers to why you aren’t good enough to slapping him - one or the other, maybe both for good measure.

“Are you okay?” He asks after five minutes of silence.

You bolt your head to him, about to open your mouth to call it off completely but then suddenly his eyes shoot past you, widening in horror. “We need to leave.” He tugs on your arm, making you stand next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Taehyung answers quickly, pulling you along and almost jogging. “We just need to leave. Now.”

You glance behind yourself to see what’s wrong and you catch a woman, jogging behind you two. “Taehyung! Taehyung!” She shouts tiredly, looking haggard and desperate.

“I think she’s calling for you?” You huff out. “Who is she?”

“Taehyung! Tae..hyung..” The strange lady falters, falling to the ground in a sob.

You turn around once more, stopping in your tracks. “Wait. Wait!”

But he’s relentless and after one second, sparing a glance filled with pity, he continues pulling you along. The both of you trudge down the street all the way to his car. “Wait Taehyung! Who was that?”

“She’s an old client.” He huffs out. “I have a restraining order on her.”

“Wait what? An old client? A restraining order?” Your voice moves up several pitches, eyes almost bulging out.

He ruffles his hair tiredly. “We only went out on four dates and that was it, but then she kept on following me around once the contract had expired.” He manages a smile. “Sorry. I hope that it didn’t ruin our date.”

“No...no..” You shift your hand away from his.

You can’t help but feel sorry for the girl. She was in a rugged mess, crying and chasing after him, only to collapse on the ground. All he did was shoot her a pitiful look and then leave. You can’t help but think - what if that was you? What if it will be you?

After everything, will he just look at you in disdain? Will he act like you’re strangers, that the time you spent together was nothing when it meant so much to you?

“What’s wrong?” He asks with a frown at your prolonged silence.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m just going to go home….don’t call me again.” You turn to leave but he grabs your arm.

“Y/N. You’re not making any sense. I thought we went over this.” He pleads, half frustrated and the other half just desperate.

You turn to him, burrowing eyes deep into his skin. “I don’t care about the deposit okay?! I don’t care about the one month!”

“Why are you acting like this?!” He asks, matching your loud tone. “I thought we were having a good time! Was it because of that old client? I already apologized for that Y/N!”

“No, that’s not it!”

“What is it then?” He sighs out frustratedly but then quickly covers it with a strained smile, voice lowering to a normal pitch again. “Our first argument isn’t scheduled for two more weeks Y/N. Don’t be like this. I’m sorry, okay?”

“No! No! This is the exact reason why I can’t do this anymore!” You shove his hand off. “I don’t want some fake ass boyfriend or fake ass cheesy lines! I don’t want a whirlwind romance or to be showered in gifts or compliments! I don’t want to go on perfect dates! I don’t want someone who treats me perfectly or someone who is perfect! I want something real!” You’re rambling, face rising with red and your lips tumble before you can process remotely anything that you’re saying.

“I want the real you! I want you Taehyung!”

He’s absolutely stunned, flabbergasted. His hand drops to his side.

You’re huffing breaths, chest heaving as you gasp for air after your angry tangent. “Y/N..”

“Nope.” You turn on your heel, stomping away. “Bye Taehyung.”

“Wait!” He calls after you. “How are you getting home?”

“Taxi! Bus! I don’t care. You shouldn’t either!” You shout back.

He watches as you tread away, people shooting you odd looks, and he can’t help but grin. He’s never been screamed at by one of his clients. He’s never been told to stop being the perfect boyfriend when it was his job to be. You’re definitely one in a million.

He can’t help but love it.

//

Three days pass without a word from Taehyung and life returns to normal, to you on the couch with netflix and wine, a shirt that reads ‘who needs men anyways’.

The flowers he got you have longed been trashed and thrown into the dumpster. You’re tempted to delete his contact but you keep it anyways, for reasons that you just can’t bring yourself to delete him completely. In those nights where you can’t sleep, you find yourself going to the messages, only to see that he hasn’t texted or said anything at all.

It’s not that you’re disappointed or anything. You are the one who told him to screw off and never call again. You can’t even blame him.

You’re probably as crazy as that other lady who chased him down the street.

Three days pass and on the fourth day, there’s a knock at your door.

You grunt out tiredly, wondering if it was the pizza guy but you can’t even recall if you even ordered pizza. The wine is really making you tipsy.

Setting down the glass, you pause your episode and tread to the door as the bell rings a second time. “I’m coming! Jeez.”

And when you open it, you’re met with a tall blonde boy, smiling and leaning against the doorframe. This time he’s not wearing a suit but just a hoodie with some light stains and black sweatpants. You’ll admit he looks good. He could probably be a homeless bum and still look good.

“What do you want Taehyung?” You scowl at him.

He crosses his arms with still a smug smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to apologize or to give you flowers.”

“Damn straight.”

“It’s just that…” I really couldn’t stop thinking about you, that’s what. But he’ll never say it out loud, afraid you’ll slam the door in his face from the cheesy line that’s all too genuine this time around. “I enjoyed myself particularly.”

You lift an eyebrow. “I’m serious!” He retorts with some rambunctious laughter. “And I thought you were having a good time too. I wanted to ask if you wanted to give it one more shot.”

“No thanks.” You swing the door closed but he catches it.

“I won’t be fake this time. I swear on my parent’s grave...they’re not even dead yet, I would get killed if they heard what I was saying right now.” He smiles.

“Why should I?”

“Because you want to get to know the real me right? You don’t want a fake perfect boyfriend, so I’ll give you just that.” He slyly adds, moving his brows up and down. “You’ll get to know the genuine Kim Taehyung.” He pounds his chest with his fist and you can’t help but roll your eyes with a small smile.

Since when were you so weak to him? You can’t even put up a fight if you wanted to.

“Please Y/N.” He juts out his bottom lip, widening his eyes cutely.

“You better make this damn worth my time Kim.” You flash him a dirty look, and he bursts out into a huge, wide grin. It’s infectious and within a few seconds, you’re smiling too despite wanting to keep a front.

//

“Where…” You peer out the window. “...the hell are we going Taehyung?”

It’s pitch black outside apart from the headlights of the car. The road is bumpy and uneven, making the car jump slightly. You pass trees and trees, heading to some desolate area at the outskirts of the city. For a moment, you wonder if he’s going to kill you.

You glance at him. His profile is soft with a gentle smile, hints of mischief lingering in the way he tries to repress it. “Oh~” You nod your head, making a sound of recognition as the puzzle pieces fall into place. “So this is the real you, huh? Your real intentions?”

He frowns. “What?”

“Me. You. Alone. You won’t tell me where you’re going, and we’re driving to some desolate dark area, huh?” You sigh out disappointedly. “The car’s not really ideal for getting down and dirty…..but at least I’m glad you’re being honest with your intentions now.”

“No! No!” His cheeks burn, and he glances at you once more before focusing back on the road. “God no! We’re not doing that kind of thing! Who do you think I am?!”

You laugh. “Then where are we going?”

“Farmer’s market.”

Sure enough, it’s not a lie when you see lights in the distance. There are several white canopy tents in a large cluster. Music plays, bass shaking the grassy field that it’s on. Strings of fairy lights hang between the walkways and around the poles.

“Have you ever been here?” He asks, watching your amazed reaction with a swell of pride.

You shake your head. “Why is it so far out?”

He shrugs. “Closer to the farms I guess.” The both of you walk out of the parking lot towards the mini festival, the scent of churros and sweet treats already marking the air. “Actually they have it in the morning too but I never go.”

You stare at him. “I’m not a morning person.” He adds with playfulness.

“Then why did you send me all those ‘good morning’ texts so early?”

“I had to set an alarm for that.” He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Do you know how exhausted I was? I couldn’t even see the bright screen and I had to read it over four times to make sure there weren’t any spelling mistakes.”

“Oh~” You coo at him with pouted lips. “Our Taehyungie suffers so much. Having to send good morning texts when he’s sleepy.”

He laughs with you, reaching up to squeeze your nose before he throws an arm around your shoulder. You flash him a dirty look at the close contact, but he smiles and you turn away, letting him have his way this time.

Despite being far away, the market is bustling with a good crowd of people. The live music thumps loudly, ground shaking when you get closer to the stage but you and Taehyung don’t watch for long. Instead, you weave between the tents, looking at all the produce and goods.

“You know...” Taehyung speaks up as the both of you are looking at the stands of fruit. “My grandmother’s best friend owns a strawberry farm. Some summers I used to work there and wow...it is actually so much work. Do you know how hard it is to crouch down and pick each strawberry one by one? My back was aching when I came home and I made my siblings massage my back.”

“It was hard work but then I got to eat free strawberries, and we made lots of jam. I ate jam for the rest of the year in my sandwiches.” He laughs, reminiscent in thought but after a second, he looks at you. You’re staring at him inquisitively and quietly with a small smile.

“Sorry...am I talking too much?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I like it. I like when you talk about yourself and your family.”

He can’t help but grin at that and when the both of you turn to keep walking, he grabs your hand. You immediately look down at the way he intertwines his fingers into yours. “Taehyung. What did I say about forced affection? I don’t need things like that.” You frown, stopping and he swallows hard.

“It’s genuine though...I really do want to hold your hand…” His voice trails off softer and softer, embarrassed, and he looks down to the ground. “Why? Does it seem forced?”

“I just wanted to hold your hand………”

You immediately feel a wave of guilt but you’re just on edge more than usual, trying to protect yourself. You’re afraid that he’s going to get too close and hurt you without having an inch of remorse. It’s his job. But you wonder if he even realizes what he does to you.

Taehyung lets go of your hand, mumbling an apology and walking ahead. But before he gets too far, you run up to him and catch his hand within yours. He immediately shoots his head up, trying to meet your eyes but you’re staring at something ahead, avoiding his impenetrable gaze. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m just a bit tense but….Iwanttoholdyourhandtoo.” You cough out the last part, a bit too embarrassed as your cheeks heat up like lava pools flush under your skin.

Taehyung grins, tightening his grip on yours and swinging your arm back and forth.

“Do you want some?” You point with your free hand to a booth, selling beer from a keg. “Oh wait. You can’t. You have to drive us back.” You grimace.

“Don’t worry. I can’t drink beer anyways.”

“Can’t?”

“Or coffee. It’s too bitter.” He sticks out his tongue in disgust. “I like sweet things.” He leans on you, shifting his weight. “Sweet things like you.”

You scoff, pushing him off. “I hate cheesy lines.”

“But that’s just part of who I am. Actually!” He defends himself, his bottom lip jutting out and you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes in the process.

“Then what do you like? Aside from sweet things.”

He hums, contemplating deeply. “I like meat.” His eyes twinkle brightly.

Following his words, the both of you order hot dogs on sticks, dipped in a honey mustard. It’s delicious and you two are fixed to the side of the stand, ordering more and more as you finish each skewer. The old lady is ecstatic with bursting cheeks as she compliments your eating skills and hands you more.

Taehyung giggles in the middle of a mouthful as he watches you hold nine empty sticks in your hand. You swat your other hand at him and when you become too full, he keeps going.

“You two are making me nauseous.” The old lady quips slyly with a snicker. “How long have you been dating this lovely girl, young man? Thinking about dropping the big question anytime soon? By the looks of it, you two are perfect for each other.”

You almost choke. “Oh. We’re no-”

Taehyung’s boisterous laughter interrupts you. “Thank you, I’d like to think so myself.” He winks at you. “Don’t give her any hints though! I want to keep her on her toes.”

The old lady falls into a fit of laughter, cheeks red, and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Don’t let her get away.”

“I wouldn’t for the life of me.”

The old lady laughs again and then turns back to her grill when someone approaches to order. You shoot Taehyung a dirty look but he grins. “What? Am I wrong? I am your boyfriend.”

You scoff, not allowing the smile to show when it creeps up your face.

By the time you come back from the washroom, he’s standing in front of the stage playing music, watching intently with tight lips in a straight line. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh.” He snaps out of his daze, looking at you with a smile. “I was just listening.”

“That seriously?”

His smile widens. “I used to play saxophone when I was still in school.” You tilt your head in interest. “I was just thinking that they were pretty good.”

“Were you any good?”

“I was the best in class!” He puffs out his chest and you roll your eyes. “I’m being serious! I was the best!”

It feels like you’ve reached a milestone, a turning point. It’s as if you’ve broken a barrier or toppled a brick wall with your bare hands. The bubble of fake facade and perfection bursted in front of your eyes to show someone more or less human like you but even more beautiful with the flaws. You’ve learnt he eats a ton, he loves music, he loves family, and he has a soft spot for all animals. Yet, he is also quite childish and enthusiastic, liking pranks and making mischief.

There’s not a lot that you don’t know about him and not quite enough to say anything at all but at the same time, a feeling swells inside your rib cage, even as you watch him stare at stuffed animals blankly with snot almost dripping from his nose.

You know you want to know more.

“Why are you staring?” He asks you and you finally snap out of it.

“Oh. What? Sorry. What were you saying?” You blink.

He leans in, close; so close that your foreheads are almost touching and you can feel his breath on your lips. “Am I that handsome?”

You scoff, pushing him away and he laughs. “You’re cute.” You tease sarcastically.

“I’ll take that!” He quips with a grin and you roll your eyes.

You turn your head to the stand of plush animals, all lined up next to each other. You catch a bear sitting at the center, the same shade as Taehyung’s soft, yellow hair with a huge smile and round eyes, big and cute. “Hey doesn’t this look like you?” You hold it up for him to see but as he lays eyes on it, he frowns.

“No.” He points to a large, ferocious lion hanging off the canopy. “That looks more like me.” Then he redirects his finger to a huge rhinoceros. “Or that.”

“But this is so cute.” You shake the bear in your hand that’s small enough to sit on your palm.

“If this is a ploy for me to get it for you then I’m not doing it.” He purses his lips. “I spent all my money already.”

You scoff, setting it down. “Fine.”

“This looks like you.” He holds up a similar bear in size.

“But it’s frowning!” You whine out to him in disbelief.

He laughs. “No. It only looks like it’s frowning. Anyways, it reminds me of you.”

The bear’s lips are made in an inverse v, holding a broken heart that covers its body, reading ‘I hate love’.

“You. are. cruel.” You huff out, walking away from him.

“It’s a joke!” He calls after you in the middle of a fit of laughter.

//

Taehyung drives you back home and you tell him that you’ll think about the date and if they’ll be another one or not, much to his dismay. But with your slipping smile and a fleeting goodbye, he already has an idea of what you’ll say. And he isn’t wrong as he watches you enter your building and a few minutes later, his phone lights up with a text.

My Y/N: You did decently today.

My Y/N: I’ll allow a next time.

Taehyung can only grin widely and especially doesn’t tell you how he drives back to the market, running to the stand before it closes; purchasing the two bears that look like you and him.  

He places on his desk at home, staring and marveling at it as the both sit side by side.

//

The next date is a picnic one, courtesy of your choosing and the both of you gobble sandwiches and hot dogs while taking turns telling stories. He reminisces about his best friend Jimin and how the two got in loads of trouble together back during the school days; that he was a pushover until he started working out at the gym with Jungkook and now the two threaten to beat Taehyung up all the time. He talks about almost getting arrested for lighting a trash can on fire during college because of a dare but with a few simple apologies and his charm, they let him go with a warning. That’s when he realized he had a pretty good way with words.

You talk about your family, about Hoseok and how he was engaged to your best friend and for the longest time, they hated each other and you had to stand in the middle of it all. Then they suddenly developed crushes and you had to walk back and forth, like a peasant matchmaker; helping them out without revealing the other’s intention since you weren’t one to break promises and didn’t want to be held accountable for any mistakes.

The picnic ends when there’s a storm swirling in the sky and the both of you gather your things and duck out to a convenience store, drenched and laughing.

The next few times, you’re too lazy to go out so you invite him over and the both of you begin a new tv show. Unexpectedly, it is gripping. It’s suspenseful and half the times, you’re on the edge of your seat in jitters. You both scream together, laugh at the screen or shout curses simultaneously.

There are quick breaks in between episodes where Taehyung runs to the bathroom to relieve himself and you take out your wine, usually saved for your own down times but for one reason or another, you don’t mind sharing with him.

The both of you binge episode after episode until it’s midnight and you’ve both dozed off on the couch. “Fuck. What time is it?” You finally peel your eyes open.

“Taehyung. Taehyung.” You shake him with half open eyes and a rough voice.

“Wha-” He jolts, suddenly awake too.

“It’s one in the morning. Don’t you have to leave?” You ask him, reaching over to shut off the tv.

“I’ll just stay here.” He mumbles.

“What?” You frown, turning back to him, but he’s already passed out on the couch.

The first night Taehyung ever stays over, the both of you are drunk on wine and passed on the couch, heads on different ends and legs tangled together.

“How was your day today?” He mumbles out tiredly one night.

You’re sitting in between his legs, how you got there - you don’t even know. You don’t even question anymore how close he’s gotten or how close you’ve gotten to him. It’s as if all the warning signs and stop signs have fallen every inch he gets closer until the sirens of danger have become muted under his laughter you’ve grown to cherish so much.

“It was fine.” You yawn. “You seem pretty tired though.”

“Not as tired as you.” He smiles.

The both of you continue to watch, it’s become your show with him now. When a new episode’s released and you’re just dying to watch it, you hold back until he comes over. Or sometimes you text him that you’re going to start - only for him to call immediately and tell you that it was not okay and that you needed to wait for him.

But the day was long and so was his. Soon after, you’re dozing off on his chest which snaps him out of his own lull for a moment, and he smiles sheepishly. He lays you down beside him on the couch and pulls you closer so you won’t fall off. Unconsciously, you snuggle into him, and he nuzzles you, falling into his own sleep.

//

You’re defeated.

How is it possible that he’s instantly cuter than you without even trying or batting a single eyelash?

Taehyung is dressed in blue shorts and a simple white sweater, completely blending in with the kindergarten class that’s also peering out the fence. “Taehyung. Don’t climb it.” You scold, and he immediately darts his head around, pouting like you just destroyed his dreams.

You wonder if he’s really a six-year old or not.

You had put in extra effort in today’s date, for no important reasons really….but you were dressed in one of your summer floral dresses with knee-high leggings and you wondered with the way you were both dressed, so youthfully, if strangers thought you were still high school students.

Taehyung walks back to where you’re standing, grinning once more at the kids as they hop away with their teachers. He redirects his gaze onto you but fixes it on your lips. Time draws out and you frown. “Is there something on my mouth?” You raise your hand, but he quickly catches it before you can ruin what he’s so fixated on.

“No.” He quips with a huge smile. “It’s pretty, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Did you wear lipstick?” He leans in close with a shit eating grin and you push him away but his feet are rooted solid to the ground. He doesn’t even flinch.

You roll your eyes. “No I didn’t.”

It’s a lie. You did.

You step back and he steps forward. “It looks like you did though…” He hums out. “Did you want to look pretty for me?”

“You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m the one who should be angry.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone, narrowing his eyes into you. “Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now?”

Your heart feels like it’s leaped up to your throat and you’re stunned, eyes growing wide. Your mouth fills with cotton and you can’t speak, cheeks staining the same shade as the flamingo’s feathers. “But that would be against the rules.” He grimaces with a sigh, admiring your flushed appearance instead.

“S-shut up.” You force your lips into a frown when the smile creeps up.

You won’t fall prey to his stupid one liners.

“What are they doing?” A little boy, up to your knee in height asks and points to you two. He holds a girl’s hand, the both of them wearing the same blue and white outfits. The both of them stare at you curiously with rosy cheeks and big eyes.

“Mae! Jeha! Let’s go!” A taller woman leading a bunch of kids calls, and they take off running.

You huff out, finally gaining composure again after being freed from Taehyung’s unwavering gaze. “C’mon let’s go.” You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and dragging him away.

Today’s date was Taehyung’s idea when you both sat empty in your apartment, waiting for the next episode of your show. There was nothing to do, nothing you wanted to do since you were so emotionally damaged. But he finally managed to convince himself and drag you off from the couch to have a proper date and do something outside for once.

His idea was the zoo.

Twice in a day, you wonder if he really is a six-year-old.

It’s not like the zoo was a bad idea but it’s not much of a date when he keeps letting go of your hand to run to the enclosure and mimic whatever noises the animal he’s staring at makes. He growls at the lions, wails at the elephants, chirps to the birds and screams at the mandrill monkeys.

The train of children that you pass by again giggles.

The zookeeper politely asks him to keep it down.

You facepalm.

“What the hell is that?” You harshly whisper out when Taehyung pulls out a baggie of sliced bread.

He grins mischievously and the grizzly bear in interest or perhaps with a whiff of the snack begins trudging over. “It’s okay. I googled this before I came here.”

“You’re going to get us kicked out!” You chide, getting closer to him to hide the ziplock when some people walk past.

“I’m not going to actually feed him.” He gives you a look. “I just want to lure him to our side.”

“So he can kill us for the food?!”

“He’s not going to kill us.” Taehyung smiles in an attempt to be reassuring. “There’s like two layers of fencing.”

Your jaw drops completely. You deadpan. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh! He’s here!” Taehyung points to the bear that’s right next to you, only a few meters away and you immediately take a step back, only for him to grab your arm. “It’s okay.”

“No Taehyung it is not fucking okay. We’re going to die or get kicked out and I don-”

You don’t get to finish when he suddenly turns around, and he pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a photo of you two with the bear in the background. He taps a hundred times and falling prey to his will, you turn and smile at the last photo he snaps. The bear after a moment walks away and you’re scowling at Taehyung. “What the hell?”

“I realized that we never got to take a photo together before.” He hums out, scrolling through. “I’m going to make one of them my wallpaper.” You scoff but you can’t help leaning over to look too.

“Hey...that’s a pretty good one.” You point to the one where the both of you are smiling.

“Nah.” He scrolls to the top and finds the one where your mouth is wide open, yelling at him with a huge knot between your brows. “I like this one.”

“You’re the only one that looks good!!” You complain, smacking his arm.

“Hey.” He sets it as his lockscreen. “The bear looks good too.”

“I hate you.” You stick out your tongue, stomping away.

“Y/N! I’m just joking! You look average!”

“Shut up Taehyung!”

//

You can feel your entire body shaking from the blaring music, your ear drums threatening to burst with every dropped beat. The place is dark, only lit by the blue hued back lights of the bar, the neon signs lining the wall and the multi colored strobe lights, flashing down at the dance floor. It reeks of sweat and alcohol from the crowded tangled bodies, intoxicated and grinding down on each other without a second look.

It’s not your favourite place in the world, to say the least.

The last time you’ve ever been to a place like this was when your friends dragged you out back in your (not so) wild college days. You remember Hoseok drawing a crowd’s attention with his dancing and your other friends taking enough shots to pass out onto the floor in their own puke.

But when Taehyung begged you and whined to go, wanting to show off what he called his ‘killer dance moves’, you gave in.

You’ll admit...he’s good.

Well...most of the time.

Though his movements were smooth, and he flowed to the rhythm with ease, flashing you seductive eyes in the meanwhile, he also spun around dramatically. He whipped his arms around, hollering and you broke out into a hysterical laughter, which only urged him further. It definitely drove all the girls who had their eyes on him away, almost tripping on their heels as they ran in the opposite direction.

Taehyung spun you around and the both of you moved from the waltz to the tango.

It was the most time you’ve ever had fun in a club. Ever.

After what seemed to be like two hours, the both of you ordered some drinks while taking a break and it only took two glasses for him to begin getting oddly jittery.

He didn’t want to leave you alone, especially not in a place like this where drunk creeps ran rampant but after you saw his legs shaking and asked him what was wrong, he couldn’t deny what his body needed. He sprinted off to the bathroom as fast as he could to take a much-needed leak.

“Fancy drink you got there.” A heavy voice suddenly chimes beside you. He’s a bigger man, lifting an eyebrow at your wine glass.

You weren’t a big fan of any other drinks aside from wine. Unfortunately for you, the bar wasn’t that great with its selection and your drink had a slight bad aftertaste.

“Thanks.” You look away, glancing around for Taehyung.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No thanks.”

“Aw c’mon honey, you don’t have to be such a hardass.” He smirks and you send him a sharp glare. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business.”

“Nice to meet you none-of-your-business.” He cocks his head over to his side, scanning you from top to bottom in your black dress. He doesn’t seem to take a hint and it only makes you angrier. “You can call me Bang ‘cause I’d love to bang you tonight.”

You twist your face up in disgust, not even trying to hide how put off you are. “Screw off.”

“Aw...don’t be like that baby.” He steps forward.

You lean into him, boring your eyes straight into his, and he’s taken back. “Get closer to me and I will break your arms, do you hear me? I’ll make sure you’ll get arrested for sexual harassment.”   

The man is baffled, frowning with steam practically coming out from his ears. He clenches his jaw and opens his mouth to go off but then there’s suddenly a hand around your shoulders and a low voice that growls out. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who are you?!” The man screams.

“I’m her boyfriend.” Taehyung declares without his eyes wavering, clenching his teeth and his eyes bulging with anger.

“He’s my boyfriend.” You say in a matter-of-fact tone.

The man glances at you, then back to Taehyung and back to you again. It’s as if the both of you are some scary power couple, either in the mafia or in fury from sexual frustration (none of which are true...maybe only a little of the latter). He doesn’t say anything more and quickly turns, running in the opposite direction, afraid that the both of you will drag him out in the alley to give him a beating of a lifetime.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung grabs your shoulders, turning you to him.

“Yeah..yeah I’m okay.” You nod, heart beating in your stomach. “I had it handled, you know.”

He smiles. “But I am your boyfriend, it’s the least I can do.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the sudden tense atmosphere, but you can’t help the words that slip through your lips. “Are you though?” He blinks once, frowning. You sigh, pushing his hands off of you. “Are you really my boyfriend Taehyung?”

“Y/N…”

You sigh, wondering if you should apologize or not. You didn’t mean to say it or see the distressed expression tracing each of his features. But it’s the truth and there’s no point in retracting when the words have been heard. “Don’t say things like that….it makes me…” want you.

You smile, taking his hand and standing. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

//

They say that love and hate have no boundaries, that they’re often blended together, child’s play to step to the other side. Someone you love can quickly become someone you despise with all your heart and vise versa. They are two polar opposites with strong emotions; emotions that drive a person to do things that are not always convenient.  

You don’t know if you love Taehyung or you hate him.

On one hand, you love everything about him. The way he teases you, whines when you’re not close enough and grabs you in a tight hug enough to suffocate you, the way he grins so brightly sometimes when he stares like he’s so proud to have you; how he listened and opened up to you, making you falling deeper and deeper. How only he has that effect, able to glance at you from across the room and send your heart off on a sprint until your breath is drawn from your lips completely.

You love hi-

On the other side, you can’t love him.

He’s not yours and will never be yours. You hate how he has that effect on you. You wonder if he knows, if he’s been playing with you this entire time, altering himself to become your perfect fantasy without you even realizing. You wonder if he knows and the moment the month is up, he’ll leave you in the dust and cut off all contact. Are you just another client? Has everything only been fabricated in your mind? Was it all one-sided?

You hate him because you love him.

“Taehyung…”

“Hmm…?”

The both of you are lying on a blanket, on the cement of your rooftop building. It’s a flat roof that you two snuck up to, to watch the stars that spill over the sky. The longer you stare, the more the darkness uncovers; the more your eyes can see the twinkling lights, delving deeper and deeper. The longer you stare, the more beautiful it becomes.

“How many days are left?”

“What do you mean?”

“The one month. The one month that you’ve been my boyfriend for.”

“Y/N…” He turns to you with a scrunch between his brows.

You turn your head staring back at him. He looks even more beautiful bathing in the moonlight, blonde strands reflecting off the beams and skin smooth along the slope of his nose. Your gaze falls to his lips and when he notices, his falls to yours.

Your heartbeat pounds inside your ears, painfully as it squeezes tight, wrapping around your lungs. “Do you even love me?” You choke out in a whisper.

He looks at you once more, drawing his eyes into your orbs and suddenly you’re too afraid of what he’ll say. You’re too afraid of your broken fantasy and how he’ll step away from you, that you’ll lose everything you’ve created with him.

In an instant, you pull him in for a kiss, silencing his words.

He immediately reciprocates.

He’s leaning up with his elbow, his other hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer and you’re on your knees, leaning downwards over his body with fistfuls of his shirt.

You don’t know how long the both of you go at it for, mouth on mouth, breathing into the kiss and the both of you each too afraid to pull away. He pulls you closer as his arm loses strength, and he falls back, the both of you still connected as he prompts you to part your lips wider. He wastes no time in exploring, ravishing you with a muffled whimper. He tastes of lemon curd and birthday cake, sweet and a little too overwhelming.

You love him.

You love him so painfully so that in the pull of desperation, with the wave of feelings crashing down on your shoulders, your tears can’t help but trickle out.

You’re the first to pull away, both your lips swollen and your lungs burning for air. He’s gasping and finally sits up, staring at you with a look you don’t understand. You don’t want to understand.

“It’s over.” You manage with a croak. “I kissed you. The contract is over. Don’t contact me again.”

“Wa..it!...Y/N!” He stands up after you but the door is slammed shut and you’re gone.

//

Ten days pass.

After that night and knocking on your door, begging to talk to you, he doesn’t come again. Just like you said, he doesn’t call or text and it’s as if his existence has completely been wiped. It’s as if the memories have completely been pure imagination or a lucid dream. There are only a few traces of him left, physically showing that he was in your life and that you weren’t just going crazy.

You throw the blanket that he used to borrow when he came over into the washer, completely ridding his scent. The second wine glass that you own, bought for him and his lips, is tucked in a box away. The movie tickets that you had kept when you went with him are pressed deep between forgotten books on your shelf.

You don’t have the heart to throw anything away.

Ten days pass and everything reverts to normal, as violently fast as ripping off a bandaid but it stings and it stings; and it stings more because it happened so fast, normal came too quickly.

“Are you okay? You haven’t been returning any of my calls.” Hoseok’s voice encloses marks of concern.

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“Are you still sleeping?” You hum in response. “Isn’t it like noon? Don’t you have work?”

“I took the day off.” Your voice barely manages to croak out.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” When Hoseok doesn’t hear an answer, there’s a long silence. “Was it the rent-a-boyfriend thing? How did it go? Badly?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

“I know.”

Just then the doorbell rings and you grumble, wondering if it was the delivery guy here with the pizza you had ordered in bed. You lug yourself upwards, head spinning with the bird nest of your hair but you don’t give a single damn anymore. “I’ll talk to you later okay, Hoseok?”

“Feel better Y/N.”

“See you.” You hang up the phone, throwing it onto the bed before the doorbell rings again. “I’m coming.” You shout with a groggy voice while scratching your itchy head before reaching the door.

The minute you open it, wood swinging on hinges, you’re met with a taller, blonde boy standing in front of you. He’s dressed in a black suit, fitted from top to bottom. He wears a small smile on his lips, eyes softening with tenderness despite the mess you look like. Your heart squeezes again, feeling like it’s rising to your throat and you lose strength to shut the door, wanting to savour the moment. You’re afraid that it’s the last moment.

“What are you doing here Taehyung?” Your voice comes out in a weak whisper.

He holds a bouquet of flowers in his hands, raising it but you can’t take them. “What the hell?”

“I know you don’t like flowers or maybe you do, but they’re genuine this time.” He lowers his hands. After a second, he sighs. “I got fired.”

“What?” You frown.

“I got fired from my job.” He says simply.

“And you came here to tell me that?!” You practically shout at him. “You want me to compensate for you?”

He smiles. “Yes.”

‘What the fuck Taehyung? Go away.” You swing the door shut but he catches it.

“Wait listen!”

“What do you want?!”

“I got fired because I told them I was in love with my client.”

He connects his eyes with yours, lips in a straight line, voice heavy with sincerity. He swallows hard, lips turning into a soft smile as he steps forward into your home. “I got fired because I told them that I wanted to have you as a real girlfriend. I got fired because I told them I kissed you. I told them I didn’t want to be anyone else’s boyfriend.”

“I told them, I think I’ve found the person I want to marry.”

“And you want me to compensate?” You murmur out, looking up at him while your heart leaps inside your rib cage, pattering like raindrops when they fall from the heavens and onto the Earth’s ground.

He grins, lips drawing up in a box. “I want you to compensate.”

“Please Y/N, will you do me the honours of-”

“Wait.” You put your hands out before he wraps his arms around you. “Are you proposing to me?”

“No!” His mouth drops. “If I was proposing to you, do you really think I’d do it in the middle of your apartment?!”

“I’m not complaining or anything but you just went off on wanting to marry me and then you-”

“I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to date you.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “And we’ll see how it goes before I marry you.” He quips but you still swat a hand to his arm. “I still have to meet your parents, and we have to talk about how many kids we want because I know I want like five of them and if you aren’t down then-”

You pull him in for a kiss, silencing him, and he grins against your lips. “I better not have to rent you again.” You mumble.

“I’m not for rent anymore.” He kisses you again and again. “I’m yours.”

[shackalacklargebottom]

Bringing this blog out of retirement to bust my writer’s nut block with an entry for @omgsuchegobang / @awkwardarin ‘s “Fluff Me To Death” writing challenge. Enjoy!

Subject: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin Hanson (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Alright gang,

Contrary to the clever and misleading subject line, this is NOT just Grump business. That was a ruse to keep Dan off our backs. Pretty smart, right?

We’re a week out, so I wanted to touch base with everyone about Dan’s birthday party. How’s everything coming together?

Your Lord and Commander, Arin

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Suzy (xXgoth_kittyXx@aol.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Cake = covered! ...mostly. Dan’s not allergic to peanut butter, right? Are peanuts kosher?

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Barry (nonbarrykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Hey boss!

I’m taking Dan out Friday afternoon so you guys can come by and decorate the apartment. We’ll probably go see a movie or something. How much time do you think you’ll need?

- B

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Barry

...The party’s on Saturday, B.

Grumpily Yours, Arin

Subject: Shit. From: Barry To: Arin

Shit. I, uh, kinda had plans on Saturday…

- B

Subject: Are you shitting me From: Arin To: Barry

Seriously, Barr?

Definitely Grumpily Yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Are you shitting me From: Barry To: Arin

I kid, I kid. Saturday it is.

- B

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Brian (wechtb@qmul.ac.uk) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Arin,

Thank you for the helpful reminder email. I’ve been working on a playlist I think Danny will really enjoy, so consider music/DJ services officially covered.

By the way, make sure to reply ONLY to my work email - Danny has access to the Ninja Sex Party account. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise by mistake.

Best, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Brian

Great. Great. Sounds awesome…. by “playlist”, you definitely *don’t* mean “every Rush album in order played back-to-back”, right? Just checking.

Final boss, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump B… From: Brian To: Arin

Arin,

I didn’t say I was finished working on it. I’ll have something, ah… varied, for Saturday.

Adverbially yours, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Dan’s having a birthday party?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump Business From: Arin To: Ross

Rosssssssss.

Not amused, Arin

Subject: Fwd: Shit. From: Barry (nonbarrykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

Baaaaabe,

So I kinda maybe forgot Dan’s birthday party was this weekend. Can we switch our plans to Friday night instead? I promised Arin I’d distract Dan while everyone sets up.

- B

Subject: Re: Fwd: Shit. From: Ross To: Barry

Fine… but only ‘cause you’re so cute, y’know?

One condition: you wear that leather thing from the other night.

xoxo Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Definitely Just Grump B… From: Ross To: Arin

Relax, dude, I’m totally joking. I definitely didn’t have any plans for Saturday.

I’m gonna pick up the decorations after work tomorrow night. The bachelorette party section at Party City should have dick-shaped pinatas, right? Dan’ll LOVE one of those!

xxxx Ross

Subject: I’m gonna make YOUR dick a pinata From: Arin To: Ross

What do you mean, you didn’t have plans for Saturday? Did you and Barry *both* forget about the party?!!? What, were you guys gonna hang out together or something?

Jesus. No. We’re not celebrating Dan’s birthday by beating a giant penis with a stick. I thought we agreed on a beach/island theme?

Get your shit together, Arin

Subject: If my dick were a pinata would I jizz candy? From: Ross To: Arin

No, Barry and I did not forget. How could I forget about Dan’s birthday? I already said I DIDN’T have plans. I didn’t even know Barry had plans. I bet if Barry did have plans, our plans wouldn’t have coincided. At all. And they wouldn’t have involved leather. Who’s Barry, anyway? He sounds like a fun guy.

Fine. Beachy island whatever it is. You just want an excuse to wear a bikini top in front of ~❤Daniel❤~

Wait… Brilliant idea… dicks on the beach! Best surprise birthday party theme ever!! I’m a genius.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Ross To: Barry

Fuuuck. I think Arin might be onto us….

xoxo Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Barry To: Ross

Uh, okay? What do I do if he asks me about it??

- B

Subject: Fess up From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry (nondairykreamer@yahoo.com)

Barry,

Buddy. It’s okay. You can tell me the truth.

Unforgettably yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Arin

Fine. Fine. Okay. You got us. Ross and I have been… intimate, for the last couple of months.

We just didn’t want to freak everyone out or mess with the office dynamic or anything!! Especially since we weren’t even sure if it was gonna work out!!! But it’s been going really well and we were gonna tell everyone soon I’M SORRY

Do us a favor and don’t tell Dan, okay? I wanna tell him on my own. Like a roomie thing.

Actually, don’t tell Brian either. He’d want to watch.

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: Shit From: Ross To: Barry

I think I managed to cover for us pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself, so just be cool and don’t say anything if he asks.

xoxo Ross

Subject: FUCK From: Barry To: Ross

FUCK I LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG

(OUT OF THE CLOSET, WHATEVER)

I’M SORRY

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Barry CC: Ross (hotrossbuns@gmail.com)

Wait, what? You’re gay? Or bi or pan or??

?????, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Arin, Ross (see details)

Uhhhhh, yep, as it turns out… wait, what were YOU talking about?

- B???

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Barry, Ross (see details)

I just meant you can tell me you forgot about Dan’s birthday!!! Holy shit. Well, congrats dude. Although why you’d wanna be stuck with Ross is beyond me.

Speaking of, can you please make sure he doesn’t buy anything inappropriate for the party? I had to remind him a pinata shaped like a schween probably isn’t going to fit the theme.

Royally yours, Princess Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Barry To: Ross, Arin (see details)

YOU’RE GETTING US A PEEÑATA?! Dan’s gonna love it!!

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fess up From: Arin To: Ross, Barry (see details)

NO, he is NOT.

No dicks allowed, Arin

Subject: Suck my candy-flavored cock Hanson From: Ross To: Arin, Barry (see details)

YES, he IS. Why, does the thought of Dan seeing another dick make you ~jealous?

xxxx Ross

PS Barry! “Peeñata”! You’re hilarious, babe.

Subject: Fuck off Ross From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

............../´¯/) ............,/¯../ .........../..../ ...../´¯/'...'/´¯¯`·¸ ../'/.../..../......./¨¯\ ('(...´...´.... ¯~/'...') .\.................'...../ ..''...\.......... _.·´ ....\..............( ......\.............\

Definitely not jealous of a paper-mâchè cock, Arin

Subject: Boring Work-Related Email From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Okay everybody. Doubling down because there seems to be some… confusion about this party situation.

Suzy, the cake sounds great. Dan’s probably not religiously opposed *or* allergic to peanuts, since yesterday I watched him inhale a family-sized bag of mini Reese’s cups in under twenty minutes, and he survived to make it to the Grump session this morning.

Brian, lots of Rush is cool, but maybe we could try adding some songs people can dance to?

Barry, we’ll probably need about two hours to decorate. Taking Dan to a movie is perfect.

Ross… just remember what I said about dicks.

Stay sparkly, Arin

Subject: Jog my memory From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

But Arin, you say so MUCH about dicks. How can I possibly remember one specific instance?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Boring Work-Related Email From: Brian (wechtb@qmul.ac.uk) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy

Hello again, all,

The only thing left to do is get creative with the tech setup. I’m thinking disco ball, laser light show, maybe a smoke machine? Something really tasteful and understated. Let me know your thoughts.

Murderous regards, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related Email From: Suzy (xX_gothkitty_Xx@aol.com) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Ross (see details)

Getting ExCiTeD! About this party! Here’s a mock-up of the cake decorations.

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Attached: cakedeco.jpg

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related Em... From: Arin To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy

Brian, do you have a disco ball? Or lasers or a smoke machine?

And Suzy, that looks incredible! …I’m just not sure how a creepy tombstone cake fits in with our “beach party” theme?

Your Stalwart General, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Related … From: Brian To: Arin, Barry, Ross, Suzy

I certainly have some broken glass, a military-grade laser pointer, and incidental knowledge of how to produce smoke by starting some fires. We can start there.

Resourcefully yours, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Relat… From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Suzy, how big is this cake gonna be? I have an idea >:)

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work-Re… From: Suzy To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Ross (see details)

Um, normal cake-sized? Why?

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring Work... From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Do you have a pan big enough to fit a person in? I bet Dan would like it if someone popped out of the cake. Someone tall. And grumpy. With long hair. And a blond streak. Maybe scantily clad, wearing a bikini top perhaps? I really think it would fit the theme.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Boring W... From: Brian To: Arin, Barry, Ross, Suzy (see details)

Ross,

My friend… you put the stripper inside after you bake the cake.

Best, Dr. Brian Wecht, Ph.D Centre for Research on String Theory

Subject: Mind blown From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Ohhhhh.

xxxx Ross

Subject: CUT THE CRAP YOU GUYS From: Arin To: Barry, Brian, Ross, Suzy (see details)

We are NOT hiring a STRIPPER to pop out of Dan’s cake!!!!!!!!!!!!

Graghgrlsdflkjgf! Arin

Subject: Do you have a G-String From: Ross To: Arin, Barry, Brian, Suzy (see details)

Yeesh. Obviously not. Why would we hire someone when you’ll do it for free, Arin?

xxxx Ross

Subject: Babe… From: Barry (nondairykreamer@yahoo.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@gmail.com)

Maybe you should let up on Arin a little bit?

Also, I miss you. Come over to my office?

- B

Subject: Re: Babe… From: Ross To: Barry

What? I’m just helping him on his ~journey of ~self-discovery.

On my way!

xoxo Ross

Subject: Cake? From: Suzy (xXgoth_kittyXx@aol.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

Hey! Would you really pop out of Dan’s cake? That would be soooo cute! :3

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Cake? From: Arin To: Suzy

No, I would not. Ross is just being a prick.

Modestly yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Cake? From: Suzy To: Arin

Oh… okay. Are you sure? I really think Dan would get a kick out of it…

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Cake? From: Arin To: Suzy

Geez. Not you too, Suze. I don’t really appreciate all the jokes, okay? I’m just trying to do something nice for a friend here.

Sigh, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Cake? From: Suzy To: Arin

I wasn’t joking? :(

- sUzY /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

Subject: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com) To: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com)

God dammit Ross.

Can you just get off my back please? All I wanna do is throw Dan a goddamn birthday party. Please. This is difficult enough as it is.

Either help me out or don’t, Arin

Subject: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Ross To: Arin

Hey, it’s Barry. Ross is… busy.

He says he’s sorry. Well, actually, what he said was “hmmwaahlfrrrgl,” but I’m pretty sure that means “I’m sorry”. It’s kinda hard to tell with his mouth full.

For what it’s worth, I think you’re taking this a little seriously. Dude, it’s a party! It’s supposed to be fun!

- B

Subject: Re: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Arin To: Ross

Wait, his mouth is…?

??? Oh my God. I’m just… gonna ignore that for now. You pervs.

I just want everything to be nice for Dan, is that so bad?

Virtuously yours, Arin

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Me Kicking Your Ass From: Ross To: Arin

Dude, Dan will love anything you do for him. Don’t stress so much.

- B

PS It’s all good, Bossman. We got you covered.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Birthday Jamz From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Ninja Sex Party (ninjasexparty@gmail.com)

Yooo Brian!

Do you have all the music set for Dan’s party? I have a couple requests I was thinking might be fun. Nothing that’ll make Arin freak out, I swear.

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: Birthday Jamz From: Ninja Sex Party To: Ross

arin’s throwing me a party? :D :D :D :D

wait, was it supposed to be a surprise???

- dan

Subject: YOU KICKING MY ASS From: Ross (hotrossbuns@hotmail.com) To: Arin (grumpy.princess@gmail.com)

FUCK!!! IT IS NOT ALL GOOD BOSSMAN

I DO NOT HAVE YOU COVERED

I AM SO SO SO SORRY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME

xxxx Ross

Subject: Re: YOU KICKING MY ASS From: Arin To: Ross

What did you do?!?!?!?!?!

Arin stood overlooking the city on the small back balcony of Dan and Barry’s apartment. The sun trailed pink and orange streaks, dipping low behind the skyline. An oversized hibiscus blossom tucked behind one ear swayed in the wind as Arin sipped his drink as morosely as one could sip virgin piña colada mix from a plastic tiki head. Heedless to his absence, the party thumped on inside.

The door behind him slid softly open. Dan joined him on the railing. His nose was striped with a thick block of white sunblock, and a chunky disposable camera hung around his neck and chest, bare from his unbuttoned, clashy Hawaiian shirt. He balanced a fork and a grayish palette of cake and mushed icing in one hand as he shut the door behind him.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” he asked, playful.

“Just getting a breather,” Arin said, hurriedly forcing energy into a cheerful smile.

Pausing, Dan smiled thinly. Arin’s skin prickled at the calculatory scan the older man gave him. “It’s a great party, dude,” Dan said, after a moment. “You should be proud.”

“I guess so,” Arin said, shrugging. A breath, and then - “You’re not just saying that?”

Dan nodded vigorously, curls bobbing up and down. “Of course not. What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know. I had to convince Brian not to start a fire in your living room, for one,” Arin sighed.

“Sounds like a normal Saturday, then,” Dan said. He shoveled a glob of icing into his mouth. “Suzy did a great job with the cake,” he chewed, orchestrating the point with jabs of his fork.

“You’ve got,” Arin said, automatically, “frosting,” and reached out to swipe the corner of Dan’s mouth with his thumb. Dan blushed, freezing Arin before he realized himself and what he’d just done. Recovering, he said “You, uh, don’t think the tombstone thing is a little… morbid? For a birthday party?”

The older man cocked an eyebrow. “I thought it was supposed to be a big blobby shark.”

Arin actually chuckled at that, softly, but sincerely. Dan grinned loosely and was about to continue when a rolling tide of muffled cheers erupted from inside. Arin’s eyes widened, manic, for a second, but Dan only laughed and shook his head. “I really loved the piñata, too,” he said. “Ross is such a fucker.”

“Tell me about it,” Arin said, immediately glowering. “I told him like, a HUNDRED times not to get the giant dick.”

“Who cares, man? Candy delivery system’s a candy delivery system,” Dan retorted. Arin smiled, small. Dan’s grin faded. “Hey, come on,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Arin opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, lowering his gaze. “What is it?” Dan repeated, to no answer. Taking a bit of cake on his fork, his expression settled into grim determination as he slowly pressed forward, gently dotting Arin’s nose with frosting once, twice, three times before the younger man lost his battle and his face untwisted into a smile. Arin glared at Dan reproachfully for just a second, before allowing himself to be fed a bit of cake.

Satisfied, Dan set the empty plate down and looked to his friend again. “Arin,” he said, gingerly.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a surprise,” Arin said, finally. “I just wish I could’ve made it better. Or gotten you something better, I don’t know.”

Dan looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Well,” he said, “surprise me now.”

Arin frowned. “Right,” he stuttered, “right now?”

“Mhm,” said Dan, decisively. He covered his eyes with his hands.

“I don’t-” Arin began, stopping short. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest. If he was wrong about what Dan wanted…

Slowly, Arin stepped forward and closed the gap between them. He barely breathed, hoping the quiet rush of traffic and dampened music and chatter from inside would cover him. As his skin buzzed, Arin brushed one hand into the collar of Dan’s shirt to steady himself - and insistently pressed their lips together.

Dan tasted like pineapples and sugar, and something softly musical bubbled up from his throat as he returned the kiss. Eyes closed and heavy-lidded, Arin felt Dan’s fingertips brush past flower petals to sweep his hair behind his ear, then gently cup his face. He threaded his fist more firmly into the fabric and let the kiss deepen further, pulling Dan closer. He felt just the barest coaxing of Dan’s tongue on his lips before another ripple of laughter and chatter from inside startled them both back into reality.

Jumping, Arin tried to pull back, but Dan held him solidly in place, turning slowly from the door back to the younger man as he deemed the coast clear. Still cupping Arin’s face, he rubbed Arin’s nose with his own, affectionately, before allowing Arin a delicate half-step back.

“You’ve got,” Dan said, sheepishly, “here,” and rubbed a bit of sunblock off Arin’s nose with his thumb. Arin made a small, content noise, low in his chest.

“Dan?”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”