#help. she said 'lets make some popcorn' and ur so sweet but i they are maybe in the worst possible arc for u to join on lolol

[sea-buns]

strong chance I’ll be missing the ep tonight. sharing a room with my gma while she visits. and I appreciate the enthusiasm but idk how to tell her that she prolly wont be into the crude humor or even just the current story arc given that shes a jehovahs witness lmao

[explorevenus]

Steve fucking reader over the Family Video counter?

ahhhhh yes ,, i love a good opportunity to push steve to his limits, and reader for that matter hehehe ♥

thank u so so so much for ur patience btw, i know u requested this a while ago ,, i've just been a busy bee dealing w some personal things ;w;

nsfw (18+) - minors dni !!!

word count - 3.1k

tags/warnings - sub/brat!reader, daddy!steve, public sex, praise, pet names, fingering, unprotected p in v (obligatory don’t do it irl lol be safe out there y’all), creampie, u know the drill (aka i am nothing if not predictable)

my masterlist ♥

fic under the cut ,, thanks so much for reading and i hope u like it !! ♥

It wasn't incredibly often that you would find yourself desperate enough for Steve's attention to go bother him at work-- there's a time and place for everything, of course, and you knew that well, but...

Family Video was facing a pretty nasty understaffing issue since the school year started; a common, annual issue to be expected with jobs like this that tend to employ mostly teenagers over the summer. You can't say you didn't see it coming, but that didn't make you any less bitter about it considering that Steve's manager just expected him to pick up all those extra shifts now that he wasn't tethered to high school anymore. Perhaps it was your own mind hyperbolizing the situation, but for the past few weeks it truly felt like Steve wasn't home at all, and even when he was home, he was far too tired to play with you.

Now... that just wouldn't do, would it?

You pushed the door open with your two hands, stepping out of the chilly autumn air and into the video store with an audible ding of the bell just overhead, a bell that signaled to Steve and Robin that there was a new customer to attend to-- only you weren't really there to buy anything. It was less than an hour before close-- the orange sunset cast a cozy sherbet color over the shelves of tapes and the racks of popcorn and colorful candy, the same products that tinted the air with a certain sweet, theater-like aroma that followed your lover home every evening. It was an ambience that many people found comfort in, and certainly you used to as well, but not so much anymore. Now it only served to remind you of the very place that took so much of his time away from you.

Roused by the sound of the bell, Robin poked her head up from a book she was reading behind the counter, smiling as she greeted you casually, “Oh, hey, (Y/N)!”

“Hey, beautiful,” You greeted in return, forcing a half-smile through your frustration as you made yourself busy skimming this years selection of horror films. “Where’s Steve?”

Robin nodded her head towards the far right corner of the store, where you saw Steve walking some other girl through the romantic comedies. You felt a bit jealous, not because he was really doing anything wrong, and definitely not because you didn’t trust him, but because you were so truly starved for attention at this point that you would have given anything to be that girl right now... as pathetic as that might be, which you were fully cognizant of.

“Thanks,” You replied, sighing softly as you returned the tape you were eyeing to its rightful place.

You didn’t want to interrupt him while he was helping someone, so you chose to bide your time continuing to browse the new arrivals, but while you may have been looking at them, you weren’t really paying much attention. It was hard to think through the thick fog of need that had been building up inside you for so long, your thoughts racing through images of Steve at his finest, hot and sweating and moaning above you, gripping your hair like you’d disappear if he let go, whispering the filthiest shit in your ear while he drove into you--

“(Y/N)?” The warm, familiar sound of Steve’s voice cut through the static, and you looked up from the tape you were holding to see him right there in front of you. How long had he been standing there? “What’s up, babe? Robin said you were looking for me?” He asked innocently.

You weren’t really sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to just maul him where he stood, but you were right in front of a window, and even then you weren’t exactly alone right now. You shook your head as if you were shaking off your sinful thoughts, before gazing up at him with your widest, saddest puppy eyes. “Daddy, I miss you,” You whined quietly, clutching at that stupid fucking vest that he somehow managed to look good in. He flustered almost immediately, cheeks flushing with cherry color, which you took as both a sign of success, and as a sign to continue. “I-I miss you, a lot...”

He let out an unsure breath, resting a hand on your shoulder as he eyed Robin awkwardly-- she was deeply invested in her book, and presumably hadn’t heard a word. He turned back to you, speaking lowly, “Sweetheart, I’m working. Can’t you wait until I get home?”

You shook your head ‘no.’ “I’m sick of waiting,” You griped. “It’s been weeks, daddy, I want you now.”

After a quick dart of the eyes towards the counter, worrying over your volume, he reassured himself that Robin wasn’t paying attention before turning back to you with a rather patronizing scoff. “Now, huh? You sure about that?”

Suddenly shy by his tone, you frowned dramatically before burying yourself into his chest, nodding eagerly. “Can’t you take a break or something?” You spoke into his shirt. “Come on, Stevie, this place is working you to the bone...”

But he simply chuckled, patting your back. “No, honey, I can’t just ‘take a break’ half an hour before close. I’ve already had mine, and so has Robin.”

While his choice of words might have been a bit discouraging, you noted the mischief in his tone, the hint towards something more. Steve wasn’t really disagreeing with you, he just wanted you to beg for it.

Typical of him.

“Come on,” You groaned, tugging at his vest again, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Can’t you figure something out, get off early today? Please?”

“Hmm... I don’t think so, baby. Lots of work to do around here, y’know?”

“Steve...”

“What?”

It was overtly obvious that he was being infuriating on purpose, and as you fumbled for a response you only found yourself red in the face-- he’d talked you into a wall. Steve loved doing that, evident in the way his grin widened.

But, tonight, you didn’t plan on giving up so easily.

Pulling back from him, you crossed your arms over your chest and knitted your eyebrows together, looking up at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated discontent. “Are you saying you’d rather be stuck here, selling VHS tapes and M&M’s to high school kids, instead of spending time with your girlfriend?” You sassed. Of course you knew it wasn’t true, but you also knew it’d get a reaction out of him.

And it did.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” He was quick to rebut. “It’s not my fault you’re being a needy little fucking brat about it.”

You faked a gasp. “A needy little fucking brat?”

“Hey, watch your language,” Steve spoke lowly. “And your volume, please.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, taunting him right back, “Or what?”

To your surprise, Steve said nothing-- not to you, anyway. He took the tape you were holding right out of your hand, returning it to the shelf, before making his way over to Robin behind the counter. She hardly even noticed him at first, so absorbed by whatever she was reading that she almost flinched when he spoke up behind her. “Hey, Robin, you’ve got that thing with Vickie tonight, don’t you?” He asked.

Robin peeked up at him over the top of her book, brow raised in suspicion. “Yeah... why?”

“You should head out early, go get ready and whatnot. I can close up shop.”

Robin cast an unsure glance at you before turning back to look at him. “What about (Y/N)? I think she really misses you--”

“She agreed to stay and keep me company. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

Now all eyes were on you. Suddenly you were nervous, and just as confused about his intentions as Robin was. Thinking it best to just play along, you nodded with a warm smile and said, “Y-Yeah, of course, you should go have fun, Buckley. God knows you’ve earned it.”

“Uh... okay. I’m gonna stop asking questions before you change your mind, I guess,” She shrugged, sliding a bookmark between the pages before grabbing her bike helmet out from beneath the counter. “See you lovebirds later.”

You said your farewells to her as she passed by you on her way to the door, leaving behind only you, Steve, and the elephant in the room with a parting ring of that bell. There was a beat of silence as you both watched her leave, and then you turned to look at Steve with curiosity. He was still behind the counter, perched up on his two hands, eyeing you with an expression you could barely read.

Finally, he said, “Well, are you gonna come over here, or are you just gonna stare?”

Face burning, you made your way over to him at the counter, leaning over the glass to give him a kiss, figuring you would just have to deal with some making out and heavy petting for now, until he was finished closing the store-- but, to your surprise, he leaned back just as you’d leaned in, his eyebrow raised at you like there was something you weren’t getting as you stared at him with your lips puckered.

“...What?” You asked, voice small, but tinted with annoyance.

“Behind the counter, sweetheart,” Steve clarified. “C’mon.”

Odd. You followed his direction, joining him where he stood, but you were hardly given a chance to inquire further as he grabbed you at the waist, turned you in his arms, and bent you over the counter. The breath fell from your lungs, causing you to let out a shocked squeak. The two of you were in the direct line of sight of anyone who might dare to walk through that door, the open sign threatening to invite exactly that scenario, and you were positioned to stare straight at it. This was quite purposeful on his end.

You swallowed thickly. “S-Steve, aren’t you at least going to lock the door?”

He chuckled into your hair, pinning your arms behind your back with one strong hand and flipping your skirt up with the other. “No,” He answered simply. “We’re still open. You’re the one who so desperately wanted to play now... I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

A textbook case of malicious compliance-- also rather typical of him.

Your words failed you as he drew two fingertips up the length of your soaked panties-- that, in and of itself, was irrefutable evidence of your arousal. “Already so wet for me,” Steve mused, finding your clit through the fabric with practiced ease and applying just enough pressure to keep you dumb and compliant. “You like this, don’t you? You like knowing that anyone could walk through that door and catch you getting fucked back into your place over this counter? That anyone and everyone could know just how naughty you’ve been today, and exactly what I plan on doing about that?”

Washing over with humiliation, you shook your head rapidly, but you could hardly stop yourself from pressing your hips back further into his touch. “D-Daddy, what if we get in trouble?”

“You’re already in trouble, honey,” He laughed, pushing aside your panties so that he could feel the full extent of your arousal. “You just let me worry about that, ‘kay?”

Jaw dropped in stunned pleasure, you could only nod, wiggling your hips closer to him again in a silent plea for him to get on with it. “So fucking needy,” He chuckled under his breath. “Just relax and let me take care of you, doll, alright?”

Again, you simply nodded, willing yourself to hold still as his fingers dipped inside you, but you should have known that he wanted to hear you say it.

With a quick, unexpected swat to your ass with his free hand, Steve encouraged you, “Use your words.”

Your eyes screwed shut-- your anxiety could hardly stand to watch the door any longer. “Okay, daddy,” You sighed softly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’ll be good.”

“Good,” He hummed, sliding deeply inside of you down to the knuckles. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He reached forward with his free hand to steady you by your hip as his thick fingers pumped in and out of you so slowly that you could tell he was just trying to toy with you, or, in his own words, to put you back into your place. A quiet, impatient groan fell from your lips as you tried as hard as you could to keep still for him, to satiate his demand. 

Lucky for you, Steve’s patience was already wearing just about as thin as yours-- his recent distance from you wasn’t easy for him, either, he was just better at hiding it. His ministrations continued only for a few minutes, just until he was confident that you were properly prepared to take him, and then he withdrew from you in a move that was sore for the both of you.

But it wouldn’t last long. Your eyes fluttered open in excitement at the sound of him fumbling with his belt. Obediently you chose not to move, gripping your own arms behind your back right where he’d placed them earlier, a nicety which he’d certainly taken note of with a soft praise of, “Good girl,” under his breath. His words alone brought another hot rush of wetness to your core.

He finally freed himself from the restriction of his jeans, dragging the weeping tip of his hardened cock up the length of you to wet himself with your arousal. The contact alone made you jump, eager for him to get on with it, but his own desire for you wouldn’t have you waiting for too long. In one smooth motion he gripped your hips again, sliding his engorged cock into your pussy with a low, satisfied growl.

You let out a whine, forehead dropping to the cool glass countertop beneath you as he buried himself inside you down to the hilt.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He sighed, stilling inside you for a moment just to savor the feeling. “Got what you wanted now, hm?”

“Y-Yes, God yes...” You moaned, only wishing you could see his face. There were few better feelings in the world, if any, than being filled to the brim with the length of your lover. “Thank you, daddy...”

“You’re welcome, bunny,” He chuckled breathlessly at your manners as he began to rock into you, knuckles whitening as his grip on your hips strengthened, and he began to lose himself to the sensation of your slick cunt wrapped tightly around him. “Aren’t you lucky you caught me in a good mood today?”

You weren’t sure whether he expected a response from you or not, so you nodded anyway, still biting your lip as you hummed, “Mhm...”

“Fuck, you feel like a dream,” Steve grunted, the sound of skin on skin flooding your ears, the force of his hips rocking your softened body over the counter at a measured pace. “I’ve missed this, missed fucking you 'till you can't walk right, and feeling your heart beat around my cock..."

Jesus Christ. Your words failed you as you soaked up his praise, that fire in your core burning hotter and brighter by the second. It was fair to say you were a bit sensitive given the space between you two recently, but you wanted for nothing more than to last as long as you could, to bask in the feeling of his cock dragging over your quivering walls and bumping into your cervix. A thin sheet of sweat misted over your body, leaving you sticky and hot and uniquely uncomfortable in your clothes. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether or not someone might walk in and catch you anymore-- everything fell together so blissfully. You could hardly think straight through the pleasure at this point.

Taking note of your weakness, and your distraction, Steve let a hand slide forward over your hip to toy with your clit, rubbing gentle, ghostly circles into your swollen jewel, making you cry out and let go of your own arms only to grip the edge of the countertop for stability. While he would usually call you out for disobeying his direction, he could hardly bring himself to care with the way his own head spun with pleasure-- he knew he was pushing you to your limit already, but selfishly, he reveled in the way you clenched around him in response to such stimulus. 

Steve bore his fingertips into your skin as he held you tightly to him, turning you in his hold so that you were now on your back, all without bothering to remove himself from you. Your chest heaved with a pathetic sob at the complete and utter sensitivity that occupied every inch of your inner workings, and the increasing difficulty of staving off an orgasm against his unforgiving treatment. He continued to bore deeply into you, hips snapping forward with relentless fervor as he chased his own end.

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” He beamed down at you, cheeks flushed pink, his beautiful chestnut hair dampened with sweat. 

It took you a moment to gather the words through the thick fog of lust that had settled over your thoughts, but once you did, you wasted little time answering him. “Yes, daddy, please--”

Your speech was cut off as he reached between the two of you once again, two fingertips circling over your clit at an incredible pace, as if he was really trying to drag it out of you. The pace at which he thrusted into you was faltering, each snap of his hips slightly more sloppy and primal than the last, indicating his own looming finish. Your legs were already shaking, hooked behind his back like you’d just crumble to dust if you let go, and that coil deep within you tightened at an alarming rate. Your head fell back with a soft bump to the glass as you lost yourself to his ministrations.

Soon enough Steve buried himself as deeply inside of your dripping cunt as he could possibly manage, warmth flooding your core as his seed spilled out into you-- that feeling was the final nail in the coffin for you, and almost simultaneously, your own cum gushed out around his cock in waves. 

As you both fought to catch your breath, Steve pulled slowly out of you and watched with stars in his eyes as the mess you’d made seeped out of you and pooled on the glass. He let out a breathless laugh, teasing, “Now, you’re gonna clean that up, right?”

[bittywitches]

I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

[gwoongi]

acts of love

bts / reader, all members / reader genre: best friends au, fluff + crack rating: general words: 9.6k warnings: platonic relationships, smoking, so much fluff you might need to book an appointment with ur dentist for tomorrow morning ASAP a/n: if u want 2 be bts’ best friend, raise ur hand *thousands of hands raise*. this fic fuels my genuine need to be their bff. i saw this post last night + wrote this immediately. hope u love it like i do :D 

➸ As long as you’ve got a good group of friends, anything is possible. Thankfully, you’ve got the best group you could ever ask for.

(01) taking pics of ur friends without them asking u to bc they looked so pretty in that exact moment

“Well, at least the views not so bad. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot worse.”

Beside you, at the top of the bleachers that surround the large football pitch below, Taehyung huffs and kicks his feet up onto the empty row in front of him. It would be easy to just move rows, considering the game’s due to start in ten minutes time, and there’s plenty of empty seats closer. But, he’s bought these seats, and by the looks of things, Yoongi and Hoseok are already comfortable where they are, sharing a big bag of sticky popcorn between them. Casting a look to the right, you notice that Sana and Seunghee are making their way up, dressed in jerseys and caps, and you suddenly feel very out of place.

“Tell me why I came again?” you ask, not looking away from the pitch below. The grass is bright green, and every wandering body down on the pitch is just a small speck.

“Because,” Taehyung starts, unlocking his phone and checking his messages. You snoop- one missed text from Jeongguk and two off his Mom, which makes you smile. Taehyung’s always been a Mommy’s boy. “You love me, and you know that I worked my ass off for two whole months saving up for these tickets. And, since Jimin’s sick and couldn’t come, you decided to be a good friend and take his place.”

With a frown, you look back towards Taehyung. “I don’t know shit about football.”

“Cheer when we do,” Taehyung suggests honestly.

Yoongi perks up, patting your arm roughly. “Do what I do, and cheer for the team with the prettier uniform.”

“Don’t!” Taehyung hisses, grabbing you back. “The other team have a prettier uniform, but if you cheer for them on this side of the stadium, you’re going to get mobbed. Hey, Yoongi, don’t tell her that, she doesn’t know any better.”

“Just football,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Just football…” Taehyung scoffs and shrinks back down in his seat.

You laugh quietly, petting Taehyung’s leg with faux sympathy. As you move your body to glance around the stadium, strangely anticipating the start of the match, a flash out the corner of your eye makes you look over in Hoseok’s general direction. Hoseok holds his phone up, taking a photo, and then smiles as he checks it on the screen.

“Jung Hoseok, delete it now!” you gape, realising what he’s done. “Oh my God, I bet I look so ugly...you could have warned me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. He then shows you the screen, “you looked pretty! And it’s your first live match ever, we had to document it. Yoongi, look. Wow...I’m sending this to Jimin for proof that you’re having fun.”

“What if I’m not having fun?” you ask.

He glances up, “you are.”

Well. If he says so.

(02) randomly giving tiny gifts (a comic book that ur friend likes, a heart-shaped piece of paper with a sweet message on it)

“Can anybody here share the exact chemistry behind Elephant Toothpaste?”

Chemistry is the absolute bane of your life. It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already regretting taking additional classes in it. Technically, it was Jimin’s fault you were here in the first place. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jimin was afraid of enrolling into classes alone and therefore had guilted you into taking advanced chemistry with him, then you wouldn’t be here. You sigh for the fourth time in the last ten minutes and shove your chin into the palm of your hand. The clock above Professor Han’s head seems to be still, taunting you with zero movements.

Can boredom kill you? You wonder about that, letting your mind wander as Professor Han continues to quiz the front two rows on the exact chemical formula of the affectionately named Elephant Toothpaste. You’re so close to finding the answer when you feel somebody poking your upper arm. The finger that pokes belongs to Jimin, and you angle your head to look at him with a questioning glare.

Jimin smiles, his hair falling into his face. Like you, he rolled out of bed this morning and tried his best to look semi-presentable; if you counted borderline pajama wear and a serious case of bed-head to be presentable and acceptable for a 9am lecture. Jimin says nothing, just smiles and pushes something towards you with two fingers. The sound of the paper sliding towards you brings your gaze down, and as you look away to stare at it, Jimin returns his attention to Professor Han. Bare in mind, his notebook is empty, save doodles of Yewon on the front row, occasionally losing focus and staring around the room for long periods of time.

What Jimin has pushed before you is a small little piece of paper, smoothly cut into a heart shape. Now the sound of scissors makes sense… It’s just scrap paper from the back of his notebook, decorated with tiny stars and circles, a pathetic hand drawn galaxy on the front like a book cover. You slowly pick it up, more interested in this than the lecture. You turn it over curiously, your heart thumping endearingly and a smile picking up on your face as you read what he’s written on the back.

you and me have some serious chemistry. love u

Jimin refuses to make eye contact again. He’ll say something along the lines of, “you’re taking it too seriously” when you’ll no doubt ask him about it later, but really, Jimin’s just a softie, with the sudden need to tell his friends that he loves them. You’re not complaining.

(03) handwritten letters with cute stickers

Something’s been left in your shared kitchen, something with your name on it and closed in an envelope with a small Gudetama sticker. You set your cup of tea to the side, sliding up onto a stool near the breakfast bar to read it. The front is in a bold font, in handwriting you don’t really recognise. Careful of the time and effort put into the appearance, you carefully open the envelope and take out the contents.

Y/N

Good morning. I hope you slept okay - when I came home last night after judo, you were actually passed out on the couch in the common room so I piggy backed you up to your room. Hehe, your room is so dirty though...I think I definitely tripped over a plug that connected your fairylights, so sorry if that doesn’t work anymore. Anyway. I left this morning and left you some nice tea and some tablets (Yoongi said that I should put them in your bathroom, so I literally just left them on your sink). I know you haven’t been having a fun time with midterms and you need to take care of yourself! If you get too sick and can’t do anything, then how will we eat?? You’re our uni mom!!! We need to live too!!!!! D:

I also rented out Harry Potter for later. I know you get really sad and lonely when you’re stressed out, and so we can watch it together when I’m home after my shift at work :D

Hehe, feel better <3 Just remember that Jeonggukie loves you!!!

Drink tea and stay warm :)

Lots of love, Jeongguk :D

The paper is signed with Jeongguk’s messy handwriting, like he ran out of time as he was writing it. The page is littered with tiny Gudetama stickers and the sight of it makes you smile. Along with other little notes Jeongguk’s left for you over the last few months, this one earns a spot on your cork board above your desk.

(04) remembering what ur friend likes or dislikes

You were so late.

Almost getting run over by a bus in the process, you sprint across the small road that separates your flat and the University central campus, missing a deep puddle as you step up off the road and onto the pavement. It pours, your hair soaked and makeup no doubt running and staining your cheeks. Holy fuck, you were so late.

Every Friday, without fail, Flat 6 (aka the large and slightly stinky flat you share with two of your best friends) host an annual movie night, inviting literally all of your extended friendship group which definitely is not allowed, but who cares? You noticed Namjoon’s car pulled up in the car park next door and curse again, knowing you’re the last one to arrive to a movie night you’re technically hosting.

You rush up the stairs, since the elevator is still down for maintenance, and burst into the flat with an announcing groan. From somewhere in the living room, Jeongguk looks up with happy surprise and jumps up off the couch, approaching the hall.

“Y/N! You made it.”

You wince, smiling as you hang up your coat to drip dry on the mat near the door. “Yep. I made it. To my own movie night. That I’m technically helping host.”

“No sweat,” Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s okay. Here, I’ll dump your bag in the closet. Get changed, I think Yoongi’s still preparing snacks, anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jeonggukie.”

He gushes, smiling and raising his shoulders cutely. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Jeongguk swiftly takes your bag from your clutches, faking the weight with the droop of his knees just to hear you laugh, and then he turns to shuffle down the hall to quite literally toss it into the shared storage closet. You’re not too worried; on days like today, in which you have one 1 hour seminar to attend at 5pm and nothing else, there’s nothing inside your bag worthy of being broken by Jeongguk throwing it to the ground. As he does this, you shudder out of your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, to change into something warm and comfortable for the movie.

The sound of laughter makes you hurry to change, one leg out of your damp and cold jeans whilst simultaneously fishing for some old jogging bottoms out of your bottom draw, a jumper from Yoongi that he thought he lost left for you to grab on your bed. What he doesn’t know and will find out in five minutes won’t hurt him. (Yoongi also doesn’t care, because he’s a whipped best friend who lets you do what you want, including steal clothes he actually needs and can’t really afford to replace. Oh well, sharing is caring!).

Your hair is still soaked, and you move towards the single bathroom squeezed between two bedrooms to ring it out in the sink. Once you’re done, and your hair is thrown up into a scrunchie-decorated pony, you pace back towards the kitchen where, rightly so, Yoongi stands with his back facing you, filling up a glass with Pepsi.

“I thought we threw that shit out,” you announce as you walk in. “You know this flat is Team Coca Cola, those are the rules.”

Yoongi sighs, not looking up. “Yeah, I know, but Namjoon is a monster.”

“He’s so annoying...why can’t he just admit that Coca Cola is better?” you sigh, moving towards Yoongi to see the small bowls of snacks he has ready to be taken into the living room. It’s full in there, people stuffed onto the sofas and the floor where a bed of blankets lies like a mattress.

Yoongi’s outdone himself; the bowls are neatly organised by colour and ingredient, and you smile. Yoongi was a lot of things, one of them a secret perfectionist. Even when it concerned bowls of snacks. God, you love to love him.

“Namjoon’s a man of unpopular opinions, I mean, he really thinks the live action of Attack on Titan is good, like, who actually thinks that?” Yoongi rants, and then he glances to the side towards you, is silent for a moment, and then asks, “is that my jumper?”

You look down at it with a smile. “Yep. It’s comfy.”

Yoongi hums, like he’s bored. “Whatever, looks better on you than it did on me. Who the fuck lied to me and told me dark green was my colour...?”

“Every colour is your colour,” you say, patting his back and reaching for the bowls. “Should I take these in?”

Yoongi then nods, humming again. “Yeah. Yellow bowl is for you, by the way.”

You look to it. “And why is that?”

“Cause I know you don’t like the barbeque flavour chips that are in the red bowl, but everyone else does, so I went out and got you the salty ones. Oh, and there’s a bar of Galaxy in the fridge. Don’t tell Jeongguk, cause he’ll get pissy about how I didn’t get him something.”

As Yoongi tells you this, your heart flutters. You had told him that when you first met, after he offered you some of his chips noticing you were the only person not eating.

“You remembered that?” you wonder, and Yoongi looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I’m a good friend,” he states, as though it were obvious. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I only did it because I don’t want to hear you complaining about it all night.”

You’re sure that’s a lie, but if it makes him feel better, you’ll accept it. You’ll also ignore the embarrassed tinge of red on his cheeks.

(05) inside jokes

[15:16PM] jeongguk: alright fuckers 🔪😡 [15:16PM] jeongguk: who left the kitchen window open all damn night [15:17PM] jeongguk: there’s three spiders in the sink and it rained so the work surface is all wet [15:17PM] jeongguk: [1 Image Attached] not happy bois [15:23PM] jine: i dont even live with you why are you asking the gc this [15:24PM] jeongguk: yoongi has the flat gc muted and idk how else to yell at him [15:28PM] y/n: blame me,,,,i have failed u,,,,,,,im sowwy [15:29PM] jeongguk: hehe its ok ❣️💘💕💓 i’ll clean it up 🥰 [15:32PM] haseul: eye….. [15:39PM] jimin: YALL LMAOODIUGJFKDSLJ [15:39PM] jimin: guess what TF just happened in my maths class [15:41PM] jimin: i forgot that on one of my assignments me and y/n had drawn a camel in the library on the back and he saw and asked me 2 stay behind after class so he could have stern words with me or smthn…..anyway so i go to the front of the class at the end and he’s like “mr park what the hell is this camel doing here” [15:42PM] jimin: and i said sir thats not a camel [15:42PM] jimin: thats my WIFE [15:43PM] y/n: HA HA HA… [15:45PM] yoongi: IF YALL DONT STOP [15:47PM] taehyung: THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE MADE THIS REFERENCE AND I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS [15:47PM] taehyung: this inside joke stinks….someone explain to me please what this means 😭😭😭 [15:48PM] hoseok: i hate this damn gc

(06) long phone calls

[Incoming Facetime Call From: Seokjin 👪]

“Hey.”

“Hey. Y/N, are you sitting down because I have some major tea on Professor Kwon and Professor Kim and I’m not supposed to be saying anything and it’s killing me.”

“Oh shit.” Audio shuffles. “I’m lying down now, bitch. Tell me everything.”

“Okay. So…”

[Five Hours Later]

“I’m still in shock about Kwon and Kim.”

“Me too. What’s Kim gonna do, lie and say she had heat rash on her titties?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get them out for people to see.”

“Literally. God, I hate how our life has resorted to teacher gossip. Are we those students?”

“Yup. Two students bitching about teachers at...like ...midnight?”

“Oh, shit, it’s midnight already??”

(07) facetiming while ur both doing something else (study dates like that are on another level of intimacy)

Jimin’s had the same cold for about two weeks now, and nobody knows what the hell’s up with it. He walks around his flat, according to Hoseok, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a necklace of matted tissues. To be honest, it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, but he’s a guy, and so anything that involves a slight stomach pain and a blocked nose instantly translates to man flu, which is almost as bad as the plague.

That being said, Jimin’s set himself under “house arrest” and is therefore glued to his bed or desk chair, still managing to move his sore and aching joints to write a few words on his lab report. With the first round of finals creeping up, Jimin actually wants to go to the library, but, man, what with his man flu and everything, he just can’t seem to do it.

On the other hand, he has you to set the mood for him. After snagging a corner table in the library near the big windows, you make a barrier out of your bag and books to watch the sunset, Taehyung opposite using minimal space with his laptop and headphones, watching a documentary he’ll need to cite for his essay. Jeongguk naps next to you, having exhausted himself from his shift last night that ran into the early hours and Sana secretly paints her nails, blowing them dry as she takes a break from writing.

Once you’re settled and comfortable, you reluctantly peel away the slice of tape covering your webcam (because Black Mirror has forever scared you into thinking 4Chan are watching you and will hold your endless hours of Games2Girls dot com against you) and open up Facetime, ringing Jimin who waits patiently back home.

After a few rings, Jimin’s bright and tired face pops up on the screen and you both silently wave. Jimin has his mic muted, but yours is on, allowing the ambience of the library trick Jimin into believing he’s actually there. It’s not quite like an ordinary study date, but for now, it’ll do. He opens his textbook and starts to work, comfortable and happy now that he’s listening to his friends discuss work, like he’s there. He smiles, occasionally glancing up to see your face working or Jeongguk unintentionally leaning into frame. It’s comforting. He works well.

(08) cooking something for ur friend

“Merry Christmas, Tae. Oh, wait, I have something for you.”

Taehyung is hosting a Christmas party this year, in the apartment he shares with some of the girls in your group and Namjoon. His flat is lit up with lights, draining the electricity, the tree sparkling like diamonds in the front living room that looks out onto the Seoul city. The sound of Michael Bublé sings out festively and Taehyung leads you through to the kitchen, out of the loud madness of the party that’s getting into full swing. In one hand, you have a big bag of presents that both Jeongguk and Yoongi kindly left for you to haul all by yourself to Taehyung’s flat, and in the other, you balance a box across your arm, the corner sharp on your inner elbow.

“Cool. Your gift is under the tree,” Taehyung says.

“Oh, yeah. No, this is an early gift.”

“Just for me?” he asks.

You set down the box. “Well, you can share if you love us all a lot. But, it’s for you.”

Taehyung wastes no time in opening the box, a smile widening across his face as he reviews the contents. The box is stuffed full with cookies, baked big and crumbly for his tasty pleasures. They’re decorated too, because you love him so much and you know he liked them last year.

“Last year you ate nearly all of my batch, so I just decided to make you some of your own this year,” you tell him casually. It’s really no big deal, but Taehyung feels like he might actually cry because the thought is so sweet. You notice this, the glassiness of your eyes. “Ew, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m touched!” he exclaims. Taehyung turns on his spot and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you in for a hug. With your arms wrapped around his torso, Taehyung smiles with a thrilled sound and kisses the crown of your head. “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

(09) sending texts when u randomly think abt them

[11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i stopped by at kyobo’s today and found a cards against humanity add on pack that was harry potter themed and i thought of u lol [11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i bought it for u btw 😊

(10) listening without judging

When the front door slams shut, you know that something’s wrong.

Having opted for sitting in the natural light of the living room to finish your lab report, the sound of the door echoes loudly throughout the empty house. It’s only you home, since Yoongi has volleyball practise until six this evening, which means it’s Jeongguk who’s home and apparently, not in a very good mood.

Jeongguk doesn’t realise you’re in the living room until he enters it, stopping suddenly in the doorway when he sees you cross-legged on the carpet near the coffee table. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose shiny from where he’s been crying and sniffling. The sight makes your stomach churn with an indescribable feeling, and you immediately rise to your feet.

“Jeongguk? What’s wrong- did something happen?” you ask him, not stepping forward until you know he’s okay. 

Jeongguk’s sensitive, the baby of the friendship group, and sometimes you forget to go easy on him. He sighs loudly and drops his backpack to the floor with a thud. His books curl inside loudly and he drags his feet across the floor to get to the couch. He moves as if he’s going to sit down and then stops, turning to you. His bottom lip curls like he’s about to cry, and then he opens his arms for a hug. You immediately move forward.

“Oh, Jeonggukkie,” you coo, stroking his hair and moving to sit on the sofa. Jeongguk comes down with you and you rest his head on top of your breasts, granting him this once in a lifetime opportunity and he doesn’t even register it. He just cries, loudly and comfortably, his arms around you as he sobs. “Oh, my baby. What happened?”

Jeongguk hiccups. “Do-Doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“No, it’s not. Something hurt your feelings, and your feelings aren’t dumb,” you tell him seriously. Stroking the hair out of his face, you peer down at him. “Come on. Tell me, I won’t judge or tell anybody else. You can trust me.”

He sniffs loudly, but you don’t cringe. He blinks, tears falling and he embarrassingly wipes the tears away, nodding. “Okay.” And then the words come out like vomit.

“I just. You know how I liked Sooyoung, right? Well, we were talking- everyone knows we were, but still, we were talking, and I just really liked her and wanted her to like me. I did all this stuff for her, planned all these dates and got her flowers. I thought she liked flowers, girls like flowers. I know we joke that you’re one of the guys, but even you liked those flowers I got for you. So, I got her this pretty necklace with an S on it and was going to give it to her and so I went to her practise room. She does dance, you knew she does dance, right? Yeah. And so I went to the room and was in the room talking to her when the door opens and this guy comes in and he comes up to her and they kiss and I just. She. She told me she didn’t want to rush into dating and that she liked me, and then she suddenly started dating someone else and I’m just really hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly? Am I annoying, I just...I don’t know what I did. I really liked her.”

You don’t say anything as he talks. You just listen intently, nodding against his head with a low hum and stroking his hair gently.

“I know it’s silly and stupid that I’m crying over a girl, it’s just…” He sighs. “It hurts.”

You sigh, too. “It’s not silly and stupid. What Sooyoung did was really shitty and it’s natural that it hurt your feelings. You did absolutely nothing wrong, though. The flowers were pretty, and you didn’t force her into anything, and you were so kind and patient. Any girl would be lucky enough to have you as a boyfriend. Sooyoung missed out! You’re so good, Jeongguk, one of the best guys I know. And you’re not ugly! That’s an insult to actual ugly people! If you’re ugly, then what are we?” He laughs shyly and you smile, “Huh? What are we?”

“Okay, sorry,” Jeongguk laughs, pressing his cheek into your torso with a wide smile. His hands loop together behind your back, meek and timid, and he sighs, this time less sadly. “Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever…”

“You’re being dramatic, now,” you sigh. “The right person is waiting for you. Just give it some time.”

Jeongguk thinks about that for a moment. “Wanna date me if I end up alone and single aged thirty?”

Loudly, you let out a laugh. “Yeah right. You know what, fine. Even though I know you won’t be, if we’re both single by thirty, I’ll marry you. How about that?”

Jeongguk hums. “Cool. Is it safe to have kids after thirty?”

You let out a wheeze, taken aback by Jeongguk’s question. “Woah there. I said I’d marry you, not birth your children! Besides, you’re acting like thirty is ancient! Lots of women have kids aged thirty.”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t know! My Mom was only young.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me to have kids with you when we’re thirty…”

“Might as well make our marriage interesting,” Jeongguk shrugs.

You quite literally have nothing to say to that.

(11) making someone laugh so hard that their whole body shakes

“Ow- stop! I’m going to pee!”

You don’t think you’ve seen Seokjin laugh at a joke that’s not his own in quite some time. Tonight, across the table in the retro diner that’s been converted and opened in town, he has surprised you. The entire booth shakes with laughter, from all sides and directions. Seokjin leans up against the window, clutching his side with Jimin, Mina and Yoongi all stuffed next to him on the skinny one seater. Next to you, on either side, is Hoseok and Taehyung, with Jeongguk and Namjoon at the counter ordering more drinks.

“What?” you ask, laughing. You’re not laughing because it’s funny, but more so because you have no idea what it is you did to make him laugh so hard. “What did I say?”

Seokjin can hardly get his words out, choking halfway on air and having to reach for his drink which shakes in his hand. He sips and gasps for air: “Just-your...face!” Then he cracks up again, like it’s the literal joke of the century. You just don’t get it.

“What did I do?” you ask. “What’s so funny?”

Seokjin can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi comments, smiling with disbelief and covering his mouth as he laughs. Mina’s french fries are stone cold as she laughs and leans into Yoongi’s side for support.

“Fuck. Y/N, you’re so funny, I love you so much,” Seokjin cries. Cries, literally; there are tears pooling out of his eyes, and he wipes them, sighing loudly as he laughs a few more times.

You’re going to take the compliment happily, and move on. To this day, you never found out what was so funny…

(12) hanging out in furniture stores and testing every couch there is

“Take a picture of me so we can pretend this is our house for Instagram.”

You sigh, taking out your phone and snapping a photo of Taehyung, lounging his legs apart across a lime green sofa that looks like it’s been hauled out of a 70’s magazine. One of the best things about Taehyung is that he’s easy to please, eccentric and adventurous just like you. Taehyung could be taken to a junkyard for a first date and somehow he’d still find it fun. He didn’t watch Bottletop Bill and his best friend Corky and leave not taking some inspiration on what to do with scrap junk.

It slowly became a tradition to go to the weirdest places with Taehyung as your date. On weekends or free weekdays you shared, you’d text Taehyung and get him to come with you to somewhere new. On today’s list, IKEA. It’s not totally crazy, or weird or wacky, just something you don’t think you’d do with Yoongi for fun. Taehyung loved the idea.

Taehyung’s making it a mission to sit on every bit of furniture he can find. As he takes a ride up the elevator to the first and main starting point of IKEA, he immediately notices the display couches and stares at you excitedly: “Let’s pretend we’re about to buy our dream house and test all the couches.”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! We can pretend we’re on a TV show reviewing them.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Taehyung more excited. “Oh my God, yes!” Then he grabs your hand, tugging you towards a cream themed living display. “Let’s go, wifey! Time to review.”

(You very nearly leave IKEA with a bright red sofa that looks like it’s been handmade and the bottom pillows are patterned with tiny cherries. Sadly, you’re both broke and you don’t have a car to take it home.)

((Taehyung’s devastated.))

(13) deep conversations when it's deep in the night

Sometimes, Yoongi stays awake until the early hours in the living room and kitchen. On days where you can’t sleep, you can hear him pacing around, softly grunting as he walks, something he does without really realising and something you love about him. On occasion, you join him. Like tonight, for example.

Yoongi’s curled up on the kitchen counter when you wake up and leave your room to find him. He sits with his back up against the cupboards, the kitchen window open with a cigarette out the window. Catching your gaze wide-eyed, he moves as if he’s going to put the cigarette out but you stop him.

“I told Jeongguk I’d stop,” Yoongi explains. Inside, he’s just grateful you’re not Jeongguk tonight. The cigarette lets off steam. He doesn’t smoke as often as he used to, just when he needs to. Yoongi looks away from the window as you pick yourself up to sit on the cupboards parallel to him. A bottle of wine is out, and you quietly take off the top and take a large swig.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you tell him honestly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell Jeongguk, too. There’s a new air freshener in the cupboard under the sink. Use that when you’re done.”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Why’d you go back to smoking anyway? Didn’t you tell Jeongguk that you were stopping because you didn’t want to die, or something?” It’s a joke, Yoongi snorts in reply.

“You know how he feels about it. I do too, and I guess I just felt bad about it. It was bad enough for him growing up and at home, and he told me about his brothers asthma attacks because of it and how he almost died, and how his parents smoked religiously and it made them act a certain way.” Yoongi sucks in his breath, like he’s realising what lighting the cigarette means. “It’s not weed. Not what his parents did, but. Still, fuck.” He decides to put it out.

For a while, you don’t say anything to Yoongi. Staring at him is telling enough, and you watch as Yoongi regrets what he’s done so much that he pales, his eyes watering.

“I don’t want to let him down,” Yoongi admits truthfully. “He’s like my little brother. I don’t wanna hurt him, fuck.”

He rocks his head back, sighing into the night. Down below the window, over the small little cliffside that he can see from his window that looks down onto the freeway behind the flat, he watches the lines of traffic whiz by, like long white lights, the honks like ASMR in his ears.

“If you’re going back to bed, can you go in my room and take the rest of my cigs out? Don’t wanna feel tempted by them. Toss them out or something, will you?”

You nod immediately, taking another drink of wine. This gulp stings. “Course. Yeah, I’m gonna go now actually.” You hop down off the counter, handing the bottle and placing it next to Yoongi. “Don’t stay up too late, mkay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You shrug in reply, Yoongi frowns. As you walk towards the doorway that separates the kitchen and the hall, you turn around and look back at Yoongi, calling his name. Yoongi looks over and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Love you,” you tell him. A smile follows, and Yoongi blinks tiredly.

“I love you too. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches as you disappear into the darkness of the hallway and then faces the nighttime again. The smell of cigarettes lingers, and his stomach churns. Yoongi reaches for the air freshener you mentioned and sprays it generously, sniffing and then turning off the lights to the kitchen. Jeongguk will wake up and complain about the window being open, and might even notice the ash on the windowsill, but, like you, he still loves his big brother regardless.

(14) holding hands while jaywalking so that u Both get hit by a car

“Now!”

A squeal leaves your mouth as Jeongguk grabs a hold of your hand and literally pulls you across the road. A car that speeds down the road presses the horn loud enough to turn a few heads and Jeongguk grins boyishly, raising his hand as if to say sorry even though you’re far enough away to not get hit. Jeongguk’s motto for jaywalking is We Hold Hands, Because We Go Together Or We Don’t Go Down At All, or something. You know he stole half of it from an All Time Low song, but it works, and the song slaps.

From across the road, on the side you and Jeongguk are running towards, Hoseok gapes at the both of you and his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You two have a death wish!” he yells.

“But we lived, bitch!” Jeongguk replies, raising a gang sign to which Hoseok pulls a face at.

“I literally cannot stand you,” Hoseok seethes, walking away even though he’s supposed to be going out for dinner with the both of you. You and Jeongguk share a look that ends in a burst of giggles and run after Hoseok, capturing each of his arms with your own. He complains all the way to the restaurant, even though he loves it.

(15) randomly buying a flower for someone

“Delivery.”

Namjoon’s voice lifts your head. He stands behind the reception desk of your flat complex with a small bunch of flowers in his left hand. If he didn’t already know that you were working your two hour shift today, then he’s lucky he caught you. The sight of a bouquet of wildflowers makes your heart soar curiously.

“For someone special?” you wonder. Maybe he’s delivering to someone in the complex. Namjoon’s a sweetie like that.

Namjoon blinks. “Yeah. You.” He holds the bouquet outwards, with a bright smile. “They were for sale outside as I got off my subway. Thought of you, again. Happy early birthday.”

“My birthday’s in, like, seven months,” you say.

“That’s why it’s for your early birthday,” Namjoon replies.

You don’t know what to say. “They’re so pretty, thank you. Hey - can you go up to my flat and put them in a vase? I’ve still got an hour here, they might dry out if they’re kept down here.”

Namjoon nods instantly. “Sure. Gimme your key?” You slide the key across the desk towards Namjoon and he takes it swiftly. “Cool. Glad you like them. Enjoy your shift, Y/N.”

“Unlikely,” you groan. “Thanks, Joonie!”

He smiles as he reaches the door, sticking his tongue out to you as he prepares to climb the stairs. That elevator needs fixing urgently, and all you can think about is how much you love your friends.

(16) letting ur friends taste ur food and also tasting theirs to the point where u basically ate a fair amount off of each plate on the table

“What do you mean you’ve never tried a steak before?” Yoongi sighs so loudly that it turns a few heads. “Okay. Take a bite, it’s called charity and I’m generous. Come on.”

Yoongi even cuts you a slice and leans over the table to let you taste it. Beside you, Namjoon cringes when you close your teeth around the fork and pull the steak off, taking several bites and widening your eyes with wonder a Yoongi. You have just unlocked a taste sensation!

“Like it?” Yoongi asks.

“Mhm! It’s so easy to eat,” you observe. You look at Namjoon, “try his.”

Yoongi sighs. He willingly shares his food out. You glance down at your own meal, a pretty pasta dish that Jeongguk looks at from next to Yoongi.

“What is that? It looks good,” Jeongguk asks.

“Spaghetti Al Pomodoro,” you quote from the menu. Jeongguk laughs, because who goes to a restaurant and orders spaghetti? “Stop, I don’t know the menu, I played it safe!”

“Lemme try,” Jeongguk invites himself to try the taste, twirling his fork around the pasta and sucking it up like a scene in Lady and the Tramp. This sets off a sequence around the table, something you can’t help but snigger at. Namjoon lets you try some of his curry and Yoongi tries Jeongguk’s burger. By the time everybody on the table has tried everybody elses meals, you finally look back at your plate and notice that literally half of the meal’s now gone. Yoongi has about one bite of steak left, and Jeongguk could easily finish his burger in one bite.

“I hope everyone enjoyed my meal,” Yoongi says sarcastically, and he angrily chews his last piece of steak.

Namjoon looks up with a bright smile. “Yeah I did. Thanks!”

(17) "give me that I'll carry it for u"

Sometimes, Hoseok stops by at the reception to help out, especially during finals or midterms when you could really use those two years of monitoring an empty email inbox to study. Today, one of the newer residents, Somi, is on the desk and is playing Club Penguin on the computer, and you’re shoved into the back storage room with Hoseok, filing everybody’s mail and parcels.

It’s so messy in here, and looks like it hasn’t had a good clean out since it was first built, which might sound ridiculous, but have you seen all of this dust?

“Can you guys take out the trash?” One of the other workers, Siwon, pokes his head into the back room.

“You only just asked us to do this, though,” Hoseok points out with his hands on his hips.

Siwon shrugs, “Okay. And? Get to work.”

He turns and leaves as Hoseok gives him the middle finger, groaning as he arches his back to relieve pain that’s developed from being hunched over for too long. The trash bags are enormous and bulky with weight, shoved into a single room that absolutely honks. Hoseok grimaces as he opens the door and drags some bags out, deliberately ignoring a suspicious juice leaving a trail behind one of the ones he’s just brought into the back room.

“That literally stinks,” you complain.

“Yep.”

While Hoseok continues to haul bags out of the trash room, you take it upon yourself to drag the bags out to the back, towards the giant tip that’s collected by the bin-men the following day. After two or three trips, Hoseok steps out of the room and notices you struggling to pick a big bag up off the floor over your shoulder, like Santa’s sack.

“Give me that, I’ll carry it for you,” Hoseok offers, already stepping forward.

“No!” you protest stubbornly. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Hoseok howls. He ignores you and snatches the bag out of your hands. You’ll never admit it, but it feels good to not have the twisty material burning your fingers. “Sit down. You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you scold.

He giggles, “sorry. You’re too cute. Keep filling in those forms, kill two birds with one stone?”

You wait until Hoseok’s out of the room to cradle your fingers. Fucking hell, that hurts.

(18) helping ur friend decide what to wear while also reminding them that they look amazing no matter what

“You’re not going to the Met Gala, Jimin. Just wear jeans, my dude.”

“No. No, no, ignore him.” You throw a glare in Jeongguk’s direction and shift on your stomach, watching Jimin frantically search through his wardrobe. “This is important. This is serious. He’s going to see a potential employer, Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” Jimin taunts, “so go be jobless and broke somewhere else.”

Jeongguk snorts, “I have a job, though…”

“Okay, get out of my room. Y/N, help me.”

“You looked good in the last four outfits,” you say to him honestly. “What’s wrong with this one, hm?”

You stand up, moving to one of the outfits laid out on the floor. It’s a pretty combination of clothes; a patterned white shirt that’s both formal and casual, with black trousers and brown shoes.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Jimin mumbles, continuing to search.

“Okay...Why don’t we just…” You crouch, moving a pair of black shoes from outfit number three to outfit number two. Now the shoes are black, and the outfit looks great. “Do that? What do you think?”

Jimin looks down at it, biting his bottom lip. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod with enthusiasm. “It shows your personality whilst also remaining professional. And you looked super handsome in it.” Jimin faces you with a shy smile, “Trust me. It’s the one.”

It takes some reluctance and convincing, but Jimin eventually settles on outfit number two. All it took was some convincing and abuse of his praise kink.

(And he got the job.)

(19) being involved in every bad hair decision (dyeing ur friend's hair grey in between playing with their switch)

Three games into Mario Kart, you realise that you urgently need to email Nintendo and play I’m-Karen-Let-Me-See-The-Manager. Nintendo Switches are so dangerously addictive that Seokjin has you watching him play as grey hair dye bleaches his scalp. You can’t help but watch as he wins race after race, a streak of ten to beat tonight with King Boo as his racer every damn time.

“Fuck, your hair!” You must have said that so many times that Seokjin’s bound to get sick of it. He glances up at his reflection and eyes the sight on his head.

“Looks fine,” he shrugs.

“Let me remind you that it looks fine because the colour’s okay at the front. It looks kinda...patchy at the back.” You reach for the dye, “We’re low. Seokjin, we’re in trouble.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever. We can make a new trend.”

“Hell no. If it looks shit, I’m paying for you to get it done professionally ...which, you should have just done in the first place. I'm not a hairdresser!”

“And thank fuck for that!” Jimin steps into the living room and laughs nervously. “That looks hideous!”

This time, Seokjin’s eyes raise icily.

“It’s not that bad…” you mutter. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

“The only way to save your hair is to just sacrifice it all,” Jimin sighs. “You know what, I’ve got a razor in my cupboard, let’s bring forward bald Seokjin.”

“I’ll take the patchy scalp,” Seokjin threatens.

“It’s really not that bad,” you pout quietly, attempting to fix the mess at the back of his head.

Okay - you’re lying. It’s awful. It’s a total disaster. But when Seokjin gets a good look at it, and he does take a good long look, he just shrugs and puts down the mirror.

“It’s a trend,” he decides. Mario Kart resumes and you’re rendered absolutely speechless.

(20) paying attention

When forced into a group of friends outside of your own, you always had a tendency to stand out in the worst ways possible. It’s not as if you stood out for being different, or funny or pretty. No; outside of your close circle of friends, you were the obvious outsider. You stuck out like an imposter, like a red flower amongst white ones.

This get together hosted by one of Jeongguk’s other friends, Joshua, takes place in his crazy expensive lake house in the countryside, owned by his parents and left to him when he turned eighteen. It’s remarkable that you got invited, to be honest. But, when Jeongguk’s your best friend, you get vouched for, granted permission to stay for the weekend in the one of many rooms, with the exception of sharing a room with two other guys. Jeongguk doesn’t mind sharing a bed for the weekend with Jimin, as long as you’re comfortable in your own.

And you’re not blind - it’s not hard to figure out why a big group of girls who had managed invitations were clinging to your circle of friends. You had lucked out in a way that ensured your entire group were visuals, everybody stunning in their own unique way. Joshua and his friends are here too, obviously, but their eyes are only on a certain segment of the group. From this angle, one of the girls who made her way over to the sofas sits with her back in your general direction, and it sort of feels like primary school all over again where you were the odd one out.

You try not to let it bother you, though. As the guys play polite and laugh when needed and talk casually, something slips up in conversation: “Well, actually-” One of the girls is talking, blinking repetitively in Namjoon’s direction with a sweet smile, “I think I have more guy friends than girls. Girls are so hard to talk to sometimes.”

“Right?” one of the others says with a sigh. “I wish I had more male friends. I want to move in with some in the future.”

You inhale. This is a good conversation to jump into. “Same,” you say. The girl in front of you turns around slightly, perhaps only just remembering that you were there in the first place. “I’ve been friends with these guys forever now, and living with them is so…” You notice after a short ramble that the girls turned back around, and she’s not even listening. You trail off, looking bored, “who am I even talking to?”

But from across the coffee table on the other couch, Yoongi furrows his brows and sets his glass down. “Y/N’s right,” he announces, and you look up at the same time as the other girls. Like they’re confused, they look at the group and then back at you, as if wondering the connection. “You know, guys are always told being friends with girls is impossible, but Y/N’s the glue that keeps us together.”

Jeongguk nods, “Mhm, exactly! You know, they said that it would be hard being friends with girls because you’d catch feelings, but Y/N’s so repulsive that it’s not even that hard...”

You glare at him, “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Trust me,” Chaeyoung pops up, having been sat silently in between Taehyung and Mark for the past twenty six minutes, “it’s not all that.” The girls look at her, “Men are disgusting. I don’t know how Y/N does it. These guys are the repulsive ones...I was in their flat for five minutes and I think I caught three diseases.”

“Hey, don’t drag my apartment into this,” you pout. Yoongi shakes his head with a smile and watches you, happy that the frown that was once on your features had disappeared into a smile. Hey, in a weird way, this was a good conversation to jump into! 

The girls around you share glances, as though they’ve just clocked on to how important you are to these guys and how ignoring you won’t make them like them more, and eventually, you’re included in the conversation. You make a mental reminder to thank the fuck out of Yoongi for paying attention to you, even when you’re silently in the background.

(21) being aware and understanding of someone's financial situation ("dw I'll pay for u")

“We all need matching ones. Look, one each!”

Jeongguk excitedly crouches in front of one of the display cases, marvelling at the sight of tiny little charms on foam boxes, smiling up at you all. It makes you weak seeing how childlike Jeongguk actually is, how he gets excited over shiny things like a little magpie. Today is one of those rare afternoons where you’re all miraculously free, and it had been Namjoon’s idea to go out somewhere and hang out. Seoul is filled with beautiful and secret places to explore like a tourist and he takes up the opportunity.

This shop is dinky and in a weird place between an ice-cream shop and a fish market, probably scammy and has definitely seen better days. But Namjoon likes it, and Yoongi vouches for it because he’s been here before with Namjoon when they brought a watch for Jimin. Okay, yes, it was a designer watch, but it was way cheaper from this shop and, wait, who cares if it’s fake? Nobody noticed until now.

You stand behind Jeongguk, peering down at the charms. They’re all so cute and cartoon-like, each charm you view immediately reminding you of another friend. For Jeongguk, the rabbit. Taehyung could have the paintbrush or camera, Jimin definitely could have the apple because of the fact that his new favourite thing to say is An Apple A Day Keeps The Demons Away. It makes no sense, but he learns to roll with it.

“They’re cute,” Hoseok comments, smiling widely.

“They should be cute, for thirty dollars a charm!” you gape, pointing out the price. “I thought this was a shop that sold things cheaper?!”

“They’re usually around sixty,” Namjoon shrugs.

“For why?” you exclaim.

Nobody hears that, or if they do, they ignore it. With a sigh, you turn away from the case and start looking at something else. Thirty dollars for a small charm is insane, and you don’t have that kind of money. As Taehyung and Jeongguk start picking charms for everybody, your heart rate quickens. 

How can you tell them that you don’t want a charm because you can’t afford a charm without disappointing them and sounding like you’re asking one of them to buy you one? In your panic, Seokjin worms his way up behind you and rests his arm up on your head like an arm-rest.

“Have you picked a charm?” he asks, and you look away instantly. “Hey,” he says, noticing that, “what’s up, buttercup?”

You sigh reluctantly. “I can’t afford to get one of those…”

Seokjin blinks and frowns slightly. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’ll pay for you.”

“No way!” you hiss at him, poking a finger into his chest. “Kim Seokjin, don’t you dare-!”

“Hey, I owe you, it’s cool,” Seokjin assures you.

“Owing me because I paid for your McDonalds is not the same as spending thirty dollars on a tiny charm.”

“They’re friendship charms,” he explains. “It’s symbolic for our friendship. Look, stay silent and pretty and let me get you something nice. Please?”

In this one instance, Seokjin doesn’t take no for an answer and invites himself into the small huddle of guys around the charms and picks one out for you. Seokjin picks you a love heart, because he knows that no matter what, there’s a love between the guys and you that nothing can pull apart.

(22) looking stupid in public together (dancing in stores to overplayed pop songs)

You hear it at the same time as Jeongguk.

One thing you don’t mind that much about Korea is that the sound of random K-POP groups follows you around everywhere you go. You actually kind of like it, because the songs are catchy enough and Jimin and Hoseok like it for the dances. But, my God, if you have to hear Momoland’s Bboom Bboom one more time, you might explode.

Over the hum of the refrigerators in the small GS25, where you and Jeongguk are examining the surprisingly large collection of flavoured milks, you hear those guitar strums and just as the horns roll in, you and Jeongguk share a glance and immediately do The Thing.

The Thing is recreating the entire dance routine to the song, which you had both decided to learn when you were bored and procrastinating during midterms. Everybody else in your friendship group deems it the single most embarrassing thing that you and Jeongguk do in public next to jaywalking, and maybe you can see why. The chorus rolls by and you’re both shimmying, pointing finger hearts to each other, and it’s rolling to an end when one of the cashiers turns the corner with a big tray of iced coffee in her arms.

She pauses and so do the both of you, in an intense stare off until she cowers and scurries to put down the tray and carefully shelf the drinks. Jeongguk looks at you with the urge to laugh and picks a random milk off the shelf, urging you out of the aisle to pay. When you’re outside and free from the judgement of the cashier, Jeongguk laughs on the floor for about five straight minutes.

(23) looking stupid in public together (singing loudly in ur car)

“JUST GO AHEAD AND HATE ON ME AND RUN YOUR MOUTH!”

“So everyone can hear!”

“HIT ME WITH THE WORST YOU GOT AND KNOCK ME DOWN!”

“Oh, baby, I don’t care.”

“KEEP IT UP AND SOON ENOUGH, YOU’LL FIGURE OUT!”

Both of your voices: “You wanna be, you wanna be, A LOSER LIKE ME!”

In the backseat, Yoongi shrinks further down until his bum is hanging off the chair, in the footwell where his knees are. “Please kill me.”

(24) hugging people when u say hi and goodbye to them

Hoseok is one of the best friends you could ever ask for. One, he’s friendly. Two, he’s funny. Three, he’s cute. Four, he hugs you when you arrive somewhere and again when you leave, and you absolutely love it.

“Y/N, hi!” His voice is the first to call out to you when you walk into the Open Day fair at your Uni. You look awful, overslept and still half asleep, but he comes towards you with a smile and engulfs you in a hug. “You look cute. Sleep well?”

That’s not to say the other guys don’t hug you, because they definitely do. But, Hoseok’s always the first.

(25) being there for someone even if u can't help them

“Go ahead. Laugh at me like everybody else.”

Jimin and Jeongguk are the ones who are unfortunately tasked with dealing with a tragically grieving Y/N. It’s unfortunate to you, but they don’t mind one bit. The last thing they expected to see when they came back to Jeongguk’s apartment to watch more episodes of Mindhunter on Jeongguk’s TV, was you curled up on the window seat with red eyes and a runny nose.

“Why would we laugh at you, baby?” Jeongguk asks, rubbing your back. He’s sat next to you and Jimin is by your feet, rubbing them and your legs with his soft hands.

You sniff uglily, but none of them say anything. “Cause. Cause it’s just a fish, I guess.”

“It was still your pet,” Jimin points out sadly. “Susan was a great fish.”

You sniff again, crying some more. “I just feel like a bad owner. Maybe the bowl wasn’t big enough, and maybe I didn’t feed her enough...I don’t want her to have died because of me.”

“Hey, now,” Jeongguk assures softly, “I’m sure she died peacefully. You were the best fish Mom ever. Susan’s in a better place now.” He glances over at Jimin nervously, “Like, fish heaven?”

For a moment you don’t say anything, and Jeongguk thinks maybe that was too much. But then you turn to him with a hopeful expression. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeongguk replies.

“Susan’s still with you in your heart,” Jimin adds. He’s not too great at the comforting thing. “You were so good to her. If I was a fish, I’d want you to be my Mom.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin with a deadpan face. Maybe that was too much, but you smiled, and that’s something to Jimin. Even if he doesn’t know what to do to help, the least he can do is be there for you.

(26) "this reminded me of u"

[03:15AM] namjoon: hehe [03:15AM] namjoon: this reminded me of u ^__^ [03:16AM] namjoon: [1 Image Attached]

[03:20AM] y/n: there r no words….

(27) allowing people to be human, with everything that this entails

University truly has been the best years of your life. There’ve been rough spots financially and mentally, but your key support system has been the circle of friends you’re proud to love and live with. Even when they’re a little bit chaotic, sometimes really annoying and loud and tiring, you still love them, and every quality that comes along with loving them.

[midnightmorales]

perfect - t.h.

warnings: insecure reader, fatphobia, harmful diet (hey if you see this and you're thinking about doing the diet mentioned- don't! it's unhealthy, and you're beautiful just like you are❤)

word count: 950 (it's really short, i'm sorry)

pairing: tom holland x (insecure!) (chubby!) (model!) reader

summary: you've been chubby your entire life, but some recent mean comments you've received have really hit home with you. you start on a diet, which leaves you barely eating. it doesn't help when an interviewer makes some rude remarks as well.

a/n: i kind of read the request wrong, i'm just now realizing. sorry, dude! i hope this isn't too far from what you originally had in mind!

~

you flopped down on your couch, equipped with a bag of chips and a bottle of coca cola.

you'd had a long day, and you just wanted to relax.

you pulled out your phone and began scrolling aimlessly through twitter. you smiled, seeing a picture of yourself that your boyfriend, tom, had posted.

your smile quickly disappeared, though, as you noticed what some of the comments said.

"damn shes been putting on weight huh"

"ur fat"

"she really doesn't deserve him"

you put your phone to sleep, setting it down beside you as you glanced at what you were eating.

you knew you were overweight; it had always been like this, since you were young. you hadn't ever really minded, though.

despite your weight, a year ago you'd been offered a modeling gig. from there, you got into acting, and met your boyfriend tom.

you were quite new to the whole fame thing. these were the first mean comments you'd seen.

"they're wrong," you told yourself. "they're just jealous. you're a model, y/n, come on!"

tears welled in your eyes. you didn't believe yourself.

you grabbed the chips and coke, and dumped them in the garbage, before letting out a large sob.

you sat by the bin, crying. defeated. you felt ugly. you felt ashamed. you were gross, you told yourself. an abomination. why should anyone have to look at you?

you wanted to be pretty. skinny. you sniffled, wiping your face with your arm. that was it! no more of this 'fat y/n'!

you were going to be beautiful if it cost you your life!

you stood. a sense of determination filled the room.

two hours and twenty-three minutes later, you had entirely rid the apartment you and tom shared of any food that was not healthy. every single thing.

as soon as you were done with that, you picked your phone back up and googled 'diets to lose weight fast'.

you were going to be gorgeous!

you found something quickly- the military diet. you'd only eat 1,000 calories a day, as opposed to your regular intake. the diet also mentioned days off, but you thought you'd lose a lot more weight a lot faster just skipping those cheat days.

"darling?" you heard. tom was home.

you quickly closed the tab and tried to act like nothing was wrong. "hey babe," you smiled.

he gave you a quick kiss before setting his stuff down. "i was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight?"

you weren't sure how many calories you'd had today, and you didn't want to offset the diet.

"how about tomorrow?" you suggested.

"sure, love," tom smiled. "i think i'm gonna take a nap."

he kissed your cheek before going to your room.

-

"what can i get for you two?" the waitress asked, clicking her pen.

tom had surprised you with your favorite steak house. while you appreciated the gesture, you knew you wouldn't be able to eat anything without going over your calorie limit.

tom ordered, and the waitress turned her eyes to you. "and you, ma'am"

you glanced at the menu one more time. "i'll just have the ceasar salad, please,"

"alrighty! your food should be out soon!" the waitress smiled, taking your menus before leaving.

"are you alright, love?" tom asked. you glanced at him, noticing the worry in his eyes.

"hm?" you looked away, becoming particularly intrigued with your fingernails.

"don't play dumb with me, y/n," tom said, taking your hand lightly in his. "you haven't been eating right all day. are you okay?"

you looked back up at him. he smiled softly. god, he was so sweet! what did you ever do to deserve someone like him?

"i'm fine, tommy," you lied. you squeezed his hand, smiling back. "i'm perfectly fine,"

he leaned across the table to kiss you. "okay, love,"

your food came soon after, and you and tom ate in silence.

the drive home was almost entirely silent too, until tom cleared his throat and began speaking.

"so, i asked, and.... you get to come to my next interview with me!"

"really?" you smiled, genuinely. "that's great tommy!"

"i know!! it's tomorrow, 7:30am, okay?"

you nodded, grinning widely.

-

"tommy, do i look okay?" you asked your boyfriend.

"you're gorgeous, babe," he said, giving you a quick peck on the lips. "come on, though, we've got to go,"

it wasn't too long before you were sitting in the interview room with tom, answering questions.

"okay," the man interviewing you said. "this next question is directed at y/n."

"shoot," you said, smiling brightly.

"is it hard being a plus-sized model?" your smile quickly disappeared. "i mean, everywhere you look you must see all these pretty women and-"

"are you saying she's not pretty?" tom cut in. you looked at him and could see the rage seething in his eyes. "listen, man, if you're gonna insult my girlfriend, we've got better things to do,"

"wait, no, i didn't-" but it was too late. tom had already grabbed your hand and the two of you were already leaving.

tears welled in your eyes, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

instead of driving home immediately, the two of you sat in the parking lot, silent. your hand was still gripping tom's.

"babe?" you looked up at him, and now he could see that you were crying. he pulled you into a hug. "don't listen to them. i don't care if you weight 100 pounds or 600 pounds- you're perfect,"

you smiled at him, even letting a small laugh escape. he grinned, "that's better,"

he kissed your forehead. "come on, we'll watch movies and eat popcorn all night,"

"sounds amazing,"

[the-quiet-winds]

You are the One, I am the Two

“I’ll drive us home.”

“Already thinking about going home? We just got here!”

Anne laughs at her cousin’s excitement. “Nope,” she says, a cheeky smile on her face. “Just planning ahead.” She grabs the keys from Katherine and jams them in her pocket, before taking her hand and hurrying forward.

Katherine giggles and follows.

They had been to the zoo before, all of them, but a pop-up storm had forced them home early, and Katherine had been begging ever since to go back, but it never worked in their schedule.

Until today.

Jane and Aragon were having a quiet day at home to catch up on chores, Parr went to the bookshop, and Cleves wanted to catch up on some Netflix.

So Anne decided to take Katherine back to the zoo.

It was a lovely, cool day, and both girls had the excitement of children as they bought tickets and rushed in.

Katherine grabs a map from the stand by the door and tries to make sense of it. Anne can’t help but chuckle at the confused look on her face, and gently hip checks her. “It’s upside down, love.”

With a blush, Katherine turns the map over, and immediately takes off down the path to her right, leaving Anne struggling to catch up. 

“Where are we going?”

Katherine doesn’t answer, instead she’s meticulously folding up the map and sticking it in her back pocket, setting off towards a big brick building a bit of a ways down the path.

Finally, Anne is able to make out the slightly-faded words over the door. 

Monkey House

With a grin that Anne could see from a mile away, Katherine lets herself into the building and holds the door for Anne.

Inside are several glass enclosures, with several species of monkeys swinging and chewing wherever you turned.

Katherine rushes forward to the first enclosure, reading the entire information card printed in front of the habitat before looking at the monkeys inside.

Anne would find this to be a habit - Katherine absorbed any and all information about any single species of anything they encountered in the zoo. She found it incredibly endearing, although it did hinder their progress significantly.

“We should’ve brought Cathy,” Anne comments as they wander out of the reptile house a little over an hour later. “She and you would’ve gone nuts over all of the learning stuff.”

Katherine flushes, but only slightly. “You like it too,” she remarks quietly. “I know you do.”

Anne smirks. “Maybe, but I don’t have to admit that to you.” She nudges Katherine’s ribs gently with her elbow. “I think it’s time for lunch, you?”

They buy some food, just some snacks to share, and park themselves at a picnic table outside the cafeteria. Katherine digs into the popcorn as Anne takes a bite of nachos.

“Where to next?” Anne asks, mouth full of artificial cheese dip.

“I was thinking big cats?”

“Good, I did want to see a lion or tiger-”

“Or bear? Oh my!”

Anne throws a piece of popcorn at Katherine for that one. 

Once they’ve finished their food, they start off to the other end of the park, and Anne lights up at the sight of a sunbathing lioness.

“It’s like when we find Aragon napping on the couch,” Anne snickers once they reach the edge of the pen.

Katherine snorts.

By coincidence or not, it really does depend on one’s point of view, the lioness wakes up. She rolls back to her stomach and gives a long, languid stretch. 

In a few quick movements, it leaps down from the top rock and onto the grass that borders the enclosure. It keeps a watchful eye on every patron who crowds the edges of her home as she prowls along the grass.

She stops only once, directly in front of the cousins. Anne grins as the lioness moves closer, and she tries to wiggle her fingers through the tightly wound wire fencing to touch the creature, but she can’t get them all the way through.

The lioness stares at them with what could be considered inquisitivity. Like she’s contemplating something. Like she knows that they shouldn’t be alive anymore. 

“D’ya think she can smell our old blood?” Anne jokes softly.

Katherine laughs half-heartedly - blood isn’t her favorite topic.

“Sorry,” Anne says immediately, realizing her slip. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” Katherine promises. She takes Anne’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze. “I’m okay.”

The lioness takes one last look at them, and Anne would later swear it winked at them, before moving on down the line and ultimately diving into the water.

Katherine doesn’t let go of Anne’s hand as they begin to make their way back towards the entrance, stopping once for an ice cream (“It’s zoo rules,” Katherine had said), before heading to the car.

As she had said she would, Anne drives home.

She maneuvers with some difficulty, trying to eat her ice cream and steer, and Katherine can’t help her laughter from the passenger seat.

Finally they make it home, without any damage to the car, and Anne gets out first. When Katherine catches up, she’s smirking. 

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” she sing-songs as she passes into the house.

Confused, Anne turns back to the car. She didn’t hit anything on the way home, there wasn’t even bird poop on the car.

She turns back to look through the window, and smack dab in the middle of the seat, where her legs and been split just under the wheel, was a big, sticky glob of chocolate ice cream.

Yeah, Anne agrees, she’s dead.

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tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify @katherines-choker

[desktopgargoyle]

The Road Trip Series - Chapter 3

AN: so this chapter is super duper late....but better late than never?

ff.net link

Chapter 3

“Nino really needed some rest, huh?” Marinette looks over her shoulder at Nino and Adrien, who are both curled up against each other and snoring in the back seat of the car.

“Yeah, he’s had some pretty crazy shifts lately. I barely get to see him awake anymore.” Alya laughs somewhat sadly. “He works late and sleeps late, I leave early and end up asleep before he gets in. You know how it is.”

Alya’s tried not to make a big fuss over Nino’s working hours because she knows that he’s doing a job he loves and excels at. But she will admit that it’s difficult for her to not see him as much as she used to. She misses Wednesday Spaghetti Nights on the sofa watching old horror movies with awful special effects and she misses making pancakes at midnight on Breakfast for Dinner Fridays. She misses going on dates and she misses lazy Sundays just hanging out in pyjamas with hot chocolate.

They’ve have talked about it a couple times and Nino hates their reduced time together as much as Alya does. The difference is that he also loves his job, and Alya is not about to try to tear him away from it just because she misses him. Besides, it’s not like she never sees him, it’s just that she sees him less than she’s used to and –

“Alya, you know it’s okay to miss him, right?” Marinette has been watching Alya chew on her lip and furrow her eyebrows for the last couple minutes. She knows exactly what Alya is thinking. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. Your feelings are what they are, you can’t help it.”

At the back of the car Nino stirs slightly, moving so that his head lolls just above Adrien’s shoulder as his hat falls off his head. Alya looks at him fondly in the rear-view mirror and a small smile creeps onto her face.

“Okay then, Miss Relationship Guru,” Alya smirks at Marinette. “How about we talk about your love life instead of my petty issues? A certain someone has totally got it bad for you!” Alya cackles as she watches Marinette’s face turn beet red in embarrassment.

“Nobody has anything bad for me, Al! Don’t make that kind of stuff up.” Marinette squeaks, sinking into her seat. She’s just glad that Adrien is a heavy sleeper and will (thankfully) hear none of this.

“Come on, Mari. I thought he was meant to be the oblivious one here, not you! The boy has been dropping so many hints and you have thus far failed to see every single one!”

Marinette shakes her head vehemently. Alya’s been saying this for years and trying to convince her that Adrien likes her back. Marinette knows he doesn’t. If he did in fact like her, wouldn’t he attempt to ask her out or at least drop some more obvious hints? God knows she’s been so obvious at times that she might as well wave a massive flag saying ‘hey there, just so you know I am a little bit in love with you so would you please love me back?’ in his face. With sparkles. And all-caps writing. In neon colours. Actually, scratch that. Flashing neon colours.

“I’m not oblivious!”

Alya cocks an eyebrow at her. It’s her ‘are-you-freaking-kidding-me-right-now’ look and Marinette has found herself on the receiving end of said look more and more in the last few years.

“Remember the school trip to London?”

“The one where we lost Juleka and Rose for about three hours and later found them in M&M World?”

“Yeah, that one.” Alya laughs.

It had been an eventful trip, they could say that much at least. Aside from the Juleka and Rose thing, there had also been an incident in Harrods where Chloé got into a fistfight with some rich brat over a pair of Valentino pumps that resulted in her eventually being escorted out of the building, screaming that her father would hear about it. On their third day in London, Adrien was stampeded by crazed fans as the class left the Natural History Museum and then on the fourth day, Max and Kim somehow ended up stranded in Piccadilly Circus while the rest of the class was at the National Portrait Gallery. Needless to say, there had been no abroad trips for the class after that.

“It was such a great trip, right? I love London so much, even if we were stuck with all the tourist trap locations.” Marinette smiles.

“Yeah, and the four-hour Eurostar journey wasn’t too bad either.” Alya shoots Marinette a sly glance.

“I mean, you and Nino sure had a blast. You guys were being so mushy I wanted to gag!” Marinette snorts.

“Oh, and you and Adrien weren’t being equally as mushy?” Alya retorts. Marinette flushes.

“We weren’t being mushy, we were never a couple! And the only reason we were sat together is because a certain couple couldn’t bear to be apart for four measly hours and it was a toss-up between me and Chloé!” Marinette pulls a face at Alya and slumps down in her seat.

Alya rolls her eyes. If she remembers correctly, she and Nino had video footage of Marinette and Adrien tangled up together and snoring. Of course, neither of them has ever seen this footage because she’s keeping it a secret until their wedding.

“Believe what you will, Mari, but my boyfriend knows his husband very, very well and, from what we saw, Model Boy’s intentions were a little more than just platonic, if you catch my drift.”

Marinette groans and leans her head against the cool glass of the window. Over the years there were a couple moments in which she’d let herself indulge in the idea that the attraction was mutual. The Eurostar trip was one of them. Adrien had all but dragged Marinette into the seat beside him and immediately began chatting away as if it were no big deal.

One hour into the journey he decides that he has to take as many pictures together as possible with as many stupid faces as possible, claiming that he rarely gets to do things like this and he needs to document it. He almost sounds like Alya. He saves every single one, even, much to Marinette’s horror, the photos in which she looks like a complete and utter idiot. Of course, he looks great in Every. Single. Damn. Photo. (Marinette’s theory to this day is that a life of modelling has made him permanently photogenic and there will never ever be a bad photo taken of him.)

Two hours into the trip, he gets up to go stretch his legs.

“I don’t think you get it, Mari, I’m too tall for these seats. My legs need freedom. We didn’t have, like, a million revolutions and behead the king just for me to endure this kind of oppression!”

“Are you calling me short?” That’s all she could think to say because holy-nickname-Batman he has just called her Mari. This is the first time he has ever in the history of their friendship called her that and Marinette is having a minor breakdown.

“Seriously? That’s your concern?”

“I’ll have you know that I am 5’6” and I am not short.”

“Mari, you’re 5’5”.” Crap, he did it again.

“Shut up, I’m still above average.”

“Only by an inch though.”

“I thought you were going to stretch your legs, you freakishly tall person?”

“Mari, I am a very average height. If you think I’m freakishly tall then you kinda just proved me right.” This marks three times in one conversation. Perhaps you could call it overkill, but Marinette doesn’t care.

With that, he flashes her a grin and saunters (he’s such a model) down the aisle toward the onboard café.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta Update 1: I’ve changed ur contact name from Alyyyybuggg to Al dente pasta Update 2: there’s a toddler behind me who keeps kicking my seat

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Al dente pasta? Really? Is this because of the journalism competition? Because I swear if that is a fucking pun about my year’s supply of pasta prize I will kill you. Was this Adrien’s idea? It was totally his idea. Never mind. You are in the clear. I know you love him but I swear to God I will bake his head into a lasagne.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta u didn’t let me get to update 3 also leave Adrien alone and don’t bake the love of my life into a lasagne

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Ooooh what’s update three?

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta Alya. he cALLED ME MARI

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg WHAAAAATTTTTT GIIIIIRRRRLLLLLLL

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta wait for it THREE TIMES IN ONE cONverSATION

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg HOLY SHITTTTTT (babe I love you but your grammar is killing me)

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta I DONT CARE ABOUT GRAMMAR ADRIEN CALLED ME MARI THREE TIMES

From: Ninbro To: Maribro dude I’m trying to nap and all I can hear is alya squealing wtf happened

From: Maribro To: Ninbro adrien called me mari three times in one conversation

From: Ninbro To: Maribro shit dude thrice mari-d congratz anyway tell alya to shut up bc she won’t listen to me goodnight

From: Al dente pasta To: Mariiiiibuggg Did Nino just tell you to tell me to shut up?! I’m gonna kill him.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta let the boy sleeeep

From: Adrien To: Mari Hey, I’m in the queue at the snack bar. You want anything? It’s kind of a long queue so you have time to decide :)

From: Mari To: Adrien oh, um. Idk, depends on how expensive because I’m kind of broke at the moment.

From: Adrien To: Mari Nah, don’t worry about that. I’m paying :)

From: Mari To: Adrien WHAT? NO!

Marinette stares at her phone. He isn’t responding. She stretches up slightly to scan the carriage and spots Alya and Nino a couple seats ahead. She hazards another glance at her phone but still nothing. Hopefully he’s taken her somewhat panicked caps lock texts as a ‘No thanks, I don’t want anything’. Hopefully.

“Right so you didn’t specify so I grabbed you a hot chocolate and this sweet and salty popcorn. Best of both worlds, right?” Adrien throws the bag of popcorn at Marinette and slides into his seat next to her. He places the hot chocolate down on the folding table in front of her and opens the lid of his coffee, adding two sugars. Marinette stares at him.

“What? I know you’re trying to cut down on the caffeine so I figured hot chocolate was a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, I am nowhere as motivated as you and I have no intention of kicking my caffeine intake.” Adrien takes a sip of his coffee before suddenly wincing. “And there go all of my tastebuds…ouch.”

Marinette opens the lid of her cup and blows some of the steam away. “Thanks,” she smiles. “But seriously, how much did this total? Let me pay you back, seriously.” She leans down and begins rummaging around in her bag. Adrien grabs her hands and pulls them away from her bag, completely stunning her into stillness.

“I said I’d pay, and I paid. It’s no big deal, what are friends for, am I right?” He grins. She watches him intently as he eyes his drink cautiously, attempting another sip while simultaneously looking terrified.

From: Mariiiiibuggg To: Al dente pasta you know that stupid cliché about how you fall in love with someone more and more each day? I don’t think it’s stupid anymore. Alya I’m so totally screwed.

Alya still has the screenshot of that last message. She’s saving that for the wedding too. She elbows Marinette in the ribs lightly, telling her to stop looking like a lovesick chihuahua.

Once again, they’ve hit traffic. Alya takes the opportunity to stretch her arms and roll her neck; driving for extended periods of time is not necessarily her favourite thing to do but she’ll sacrifice comfort to let Nino sleep. She would let Marinette drive except Nino has henceforth banned Marinette from the driver’s seat following the Crash of July 19th (which, in Marinette’s opinion was actually not a crash because I only scratched the car slightly, Nino).

“Kinda busy today, isn’t it?” Marinette yawns. She checks her phone. No new messages. No updates. No alerts. “Weren’t we supposed to be halfway there already?”

“That was the original plan. From what I can tell, we are currently an hour and a half behind schedule.” Alya groans. “You know, I had this entire trip planned down to the minute! And now look at us!”

Marinette nods sympathetically. “I know, Al. On the plus side, at least it’s not – ” Thunder cracks in the darkening skies above before Marinette can finish her sentence. “ – raining.” Alya shoots her an ‘are you serious’ look and lets her head drop against the steering wheel with a loud thud, hitting the car horn in the process.

“Shit!” Alya starts up in surprise as Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

The rain starts out as a light drizzle, the droplets scattering across the glass like constellations as it beats softly against the cool windows of the car. The sky turns from a crystal blue to a pale grey as the rainclouds stretch across, moving slowly and heavily. It remains this way for about fifteen minutes before the rain begins to fall harder. It pelts down aggressively, hitting the window panes and rolling down in streams. The gentle patterns formed earlier on the glass blur together until it becomes difficult to see properly.

Alya runs a hand through her hair and turns the window wipers up to a faster setting. As much as she loves the rain, she’d really rather not drive in it; slippery roads tend to make her nervous.

The traffic gradually begins to move again, although at an agonising pace, which both frustrates and relieves Alya. On one hand, she really wishes they could get the hell out of this nightmarish rut in their journey and just make it to Marseille already but, on the other hand, the sluggish speed means that there won’t be any asshole drivers trying to force her to speed up in the freakish downpour. She supposes that, in some ways, the positive cancels out the negative so she’ll just have to make do and be happy for now.

Adrien stirs slightly in the back seat. He groans slightly as he stretches his arms out (he whacks Nino in the face in the process); he’s starting to believe that he is, in fact, too tall to nap comfortably in such a cramped space.

“Are we there yet?” he mumbles groggily as he rubs his eyes.

“Sorry, cupcake, we’ve hit some more traffic.” Alya’s really not sure why she feels the need to christen Adrien with these ridiculous pet names. It’s just become a Thing she does, despite his being over a foot taller than her. The list has only increased over the years and now includes sunshine, buttercup, sweetie, My Son, kitty-cat, jellybean and, Alya’s personal favourite, Mon Petit Cantaloup. Nino has started to use My Son and buttercup, which makes Alya prouder than it should.

“If it makes you feel better, you managed to nap for almost two hours.” Marinette chirps.

“Yeah, you and your husband, who is supposed to be my boyfriend, looked pretty cosy back there.” Alya snorts. “I’ve got to ask, what is your secret? He doesn’t snuggle with me like that anymore.”

“Nino likes to be the little spoon,” Adrien says sagely. “It makes him feel secure.”

“Too bad you’re like three feet tall, Al.”

“Shut up, Mari! You’re only three inches taller than me!”

“Actually, I’m five inches taller than you.”

“Well, I have a foot on both of you so I win.”

The two girls turn to face him and Adrien is certain that if looks could kill, he would be dead twice over. He grins sheepishly in response and rubs the back of his neck. Thankfully, the traffic starts moving and Alya is forced to turn her attention back to the road. Marinette narrows her eyes at him once more before she too turns to face the road.

Adrien can’t be certain but he swears that there is something in the way she looks at him, even when annoyed at him, that surpasses everything. He’s only really started to notice it recently, but for a fleeting moment he is sure of it. Upon reflection, he decides that he is deluding himself. There’s no way. Marinette is just a really good friend. That’s all.

As she turns back to the front of the car, Marinette gulps slightly. There was something strange about the way Adrien has been looking at her recently. Not strange in a bad way, but strange in a new way. His expression seems softer and there’s something different reflected in his eyes. For a second she thinks – no. In her head, she laughs at herself. She’s just projecting her own feelings onto him, she rationalises. He just sees her as a friend. That’s it.

[milothebastardman]

radmond secret dates? (for ur prompt request)

(this one is shorter than my other ones, oops but I really love this idea and I will definitely write more secret date shenanigans with these two later)

Rad muttered to himself softly as he paced behind Mr. Gar’s store, feeling anxiety start to build in his chest. Raymond was supposed to have met him here nearly half an hour ago, and he was started to feel like he was being all suspicious by loitering. Enid and KO were still working since they had a full shift while he only had a half one, and every second that passed by made the chances of one of them catching him increase exponentially. Realistically, he knew that they didn’t have a reason to come back here, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He’d taken out the trash right before he left, so they shouldn’t need to come out back. Of course, they could just decide to come out here for no reason at all.

Rad was pulled from his thoughts when he heard someone walking up behind him, and he reflexively readied seven different excuses in case it was one of his co-workers. When he turned around, though, he felt relief wash over him when he saw it was just Raymond. The lovable, over-the-top robot had a sheepish grin on his face, a steaming coffee in one hand, and a rose in the other. He held the gifts out to Rad, somehow able to say “I’m sorry for being late” without saying a single word at all. Rad took them, any worry or frustration he’d felt before quickly melting away as he sipped at the coffee.

“You know, caffeine and flowers won’t always be able to buy you my forgiveness, baby.”, he commented, pausing a moment before he carefully tucked the rose into his hair. Raymond only smirked in response and kissed him quick. “… Okay, so maybe caffeine, flowers, and kisses will buy my forgiveness.”, he mumbled, cheeks flushing a darker shade of turquoise than normal. Raymond just had that effect on him, it seemed.

“I’ve plenty of other tricks up my sleeve should they ever fail, my sweet alien.”, Raymond replied, wrapping an arm around Rad’s shoulders nonchalantly. It was one of the few ways they could publicly express affection to the other since both were keeping their relationship on the down low for now. Rad decided to not dwell on any implications that the last statement could’ve had, and instead decided to get the date started.

“Yeah, yeah. C'mon, baby, we need to hurry on to my place if you don’t want to miss our show.”, he said, the two falling into step with each other as they walked. Raymond let out a small gasp as if he’d somehow managed to forget that the season finale of their new favorite show was coming on in 15 minutes. “I’ve got to make the popcorn this time, so I’ll let you handle making us a nice, comfy nest of blankets and pillows.”, he continued, his feet on auto pilot the entire way back to his little apartment as he rambled about nothing and everything.

The pair had just made it inside and turned the TV on when the opening theme began. Raymond hurriedly tossed a few blankets and pillows onto the couch, barely able to keep his laughter under control as Rad belted the theme song. Thankfully, they managed to get all cozy before the episode really began. After nearly an hour of a doozy of a plot, too many twists, and more than a few tears during some extremely emotional scenes, the ending theme started to play. Raymond sniffed quietly, shifting closer to Rad as they tried to mentally recover from everything that just happened.

“I can’t believe he… And then she… Oh my poor babies!”, Raymond cried, throwing a hand across his forehead dramatically. Rad nodded in agreement, furiously wiping away a couple stray tears the ending had managed to pull from him with that last twist. “Oh, poor lost Joey! How will he and Jeremiah ever find each other again? How will Julie react when she finds out her dad is missing in space? Oh god how will we survive until the next season starts airing?!?”, Raymond rambled, his voice cracking on the last word. Rad simply clung to his boyfriend tightly as the realization set in.

“It’s… It’s only six months away, right? We’ve survived a hiatus before, we can survive another one!”, he declared, the word hiatus only drawing another cry of sorrow from his boyfriend. He just cuddled him closer to his chest as they took comfort from each other and the blanket nest. A hiatus was always awful, but at least they had someone to help them through it this time around…

(yes oops again it’s really short but I swear I’ll make a series out of their dorky secret dates)

[pratktcven]

love in a time of social media

love in a time of social media part one. shance. eventual nc-17. alternate universe. lance is the king of shitposts and selfies. shiro is an artist who loves his dog and fatalistic humor. somehow, they fall in love. warning! underage drinking and casual use of marijuana

.

They meet online.

Specifically, they meet on tumblr. Shiro is an artist of middling popularity and Lance is a shitposter of the highest caliber. Shiro follows Lance months before Lance follows him; indeed, Lance is unaware of Shiro's work until Shiro @'s him in a small comic.

'I couldn't resist,' Shiro types below the image. 'Thank you for the inspiration, @lances-a-lot.'

Shiro—@white_iron—has a simple art style and a sharp sense of humor that makes Lance laugh out loud. He reblogs the comic, telling his followers to check it out, and proceeds to creep on Shiro's blog. Lance's first stop is Shiro's small about section.

Hello! My name is Shiro. I am a post-grad history student and I spend my limited free time walking my dog or doodling. art tag doodles photography

Shiro's blog consists mainly of his artwork. Occasionally, Shiro will also post real-life pictures of his dog, a beautiful black and white akita with bright eyes and a dopey smile. There aren't any pictures of Shiro himself. Lance—who takes roughly a thousand selfies every day—comments on this oddity to Blue, his enormous gray long-hair.

Blue blinks at him.

"My curiosity has been piqued," Lance replies primly.

Blue blinks her big gold eyes at him again.

"Enough of your judgement!" Lance over-dramatizes. "I can follow who I want!"

Shiro's blog is twenty-four pages of self-produced content that Lance blazes through in less than an hour. There are no reblogs. Lance nearly twitches at the restraint and—after a moment—decides to check if Shiro's likes are public.

"Jackpot!" Lance crows when the page loads.

Shiro's likes are a riot of memes and shit-posts. Art references and how-to's. Nerdy history jokes. Links to academic articles. Male fitspo. Healthy recipes, juice cleanse tips, and over-indulgent foodie pics. NSFW gifs of twinks writhing open-mouthed on rumpled sheets. Pictures of space and nature. Lots of dogs. Several of Lance's selfies. More than one necromancy pun. If it is at all possible to fall in love with someone based on their likes, Lance does it.

Lance's infinite scrolling comes to a halt at half past one, when his one of his many phone alarms notifies him of the time. Lance groans, closes his browser, and hauls his butt out of his narrow bed. It takes him a couple minutes to find an acceptably clean pair of skinny jeans and an unwrinkled sweater; he hasn't done laundry for several weeks.

"After lab," Lance tells Blue as he wriggles out of his worn sweats into his socially acceptable denim. "I'll do a load tonight."

Blue flicks her tail at him, a rude gesture that Lance returns with one of his own. Blue sends him baleful glance.

"Don't look at me like that," Lance says even as he plants a kiss between Blue's mismatched ears. She lost half of her left ear in a fight before the shelter picked her off the street. "You started it."

Blue meows loudly and bats Lance's nose.

"Okay, okay, you're right. I started it." Lance presses one more kiss on his cat's skull. "Have fun bird-watching. I'll see you later."

Then—with his good-byes said—Lance grabs his notebook-laden satchel, and is out the door.

.

Lance's lab is as much of a challenge as it always is. Lance is good at math—numbers and variables are easy—but his brain refuses to wrap around the concepts of physics. It's a small miracle that Pidge is his lab partner; without her, Lance is certain he would fail.

"You're a lifesaver," Lance gushes as they leave the old building. "Let me buy you pizza to show my gratitude."

"I told Matt I'd have dinner with him," says Pidge. "His roommate is going through some sort of clean eating phase and it's driving him nuts."

"He can come," Lance says. Then, less magnanimously, "But he has to get his own slice."

Pidge rolls her eyes as she texts her older brother. Lance shoots a text to Hunk, who responds with a single thumbs up emoji. They all meet at less than ten minutes later at the off-campus pizzeria that sells by the slice. Lance gets three for himself and two for Pidge; Matt, who is the only person over the age of twenty-one, covertly buys a pitcher of beer that they pour into their small, plastic water cups.

"Sweet, sweet, processed goodness," Matt half-cries as he chews, his mouth filled with cheese, pepperoni, and grease. "How I missed you."

Lance would be more sympathetic to Matt's dilemma if the man hadn't embarrassed him in a game of beer pong at a sorority the week before. Lance can't prove it, but he knows in his heart of hearts that Matt cheated. Nobody beats Lance at beer pong, okay. Nobody.

"That bad?" Pidge grins.

"You have no idea," Matt bemoans. "Like—Takashi's a great dude, don't get me wrong—but when I found him on Craig's List I was more worried about being murdered in my sleep than I was about weird diet habits. Turns out I should have been more worried about the diet habits. Our fridge is filled with kale. Kale, Kit-Kat. From the farmer's market."

"Kale is really good for you," Hunk interjects.

"That's what Takashi said," Matt mutters. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this."

"Hasn't it only been three days—"

"An eternity—"

Lance laughs at Matt's plight and, once dinner is finished and the four of them part ways, he takes out his phone to tweet about the roundabout retribution.

Lance @lancesalot #revenge is best served blanched. or in a smoothie. #kale #healthyliving #karma

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It's a little past nine when Lance returns to his apartment. His roommate, Rolo, and his ambiguously defined girlfriend/partner-in-crime, Nyma, are sitting on the couch sharing a joint. A bag of popcorn is ready on the battered coffee table and the television is playing an old nineties buddy-cop flick.

"Hey," Rolo says, smoke curling upwards from his mouth. "Wanna join?"

"Nah." Lance turns down the proffered joint with a shrug. "Gotta take my laundry down. You feed Blue?"

"Like she'd let me forget."

Blue—who is perched on the windowsill—releases a single, plaintive meow. She has no problems letting anyone know what she wants and when she wants it, especially when it comes to being fed.

"Thanks man."

"De nada."

It doesn't take Lance long to gather his dirty clothing and stuff it into his hamper. He takes it all to the basement, throws a few loads in, and settles into one of the old armchairs that have accumulated in the corner. He knows that he should read ahead for his classes, but the siren song of social media grips him. An internal debate rages inside him for all of three seconds before he opens his tumblr account.

Lance barely feels the twinge of guilt.

There are several asks—all anonymous, as per usual—and one unread message. Lance is a little surprised by the latter; after a few weird encounters, he changed his setting so that he could only receive messages from people he followed. He clicks on the conversation first.

white_iron Thanks for the follow! I'm really flattered. You're one of my favorite blogs.

Lance smiles at the message.

lances-a-lot no problem!!! ur art was super funny i laughed at everything pretty sure my cat thinks i'm crazy now

After hitting send, Lance plugs in his chunky headphones into the audio jack. He has a new chillwave playlist that Pidge gave him, but he knows that if he doesn't give Tycho his full attention Pidge may murder him. So instead, Lance pulls up his trusted Rihanna compilation and double clicks on the first song. He bops his head in time with the beat and opens his asks, quickly answering his anons.

Several chart-toppers later, a small ping interrupts Rihanna's plea for the dj to turn the music up. Lance looks at the vertical line of icons on the side of the page and sees that he has another message from Shiro. Lance opens the conversation immediately and reads:

white_iron My dog already knows I'm crazy.

white_iron sent a photo post.

A small preview image has been loaded into the conversation. It is a cartoon version of Shiro's akita, her expression morphed into one of extreme judgement. Her eyebrows—twin dots of white on her dark face—are low over her big eyes and her ruff is fattened comically around her muzzle. Lance cannot help but laugh at the exaggerated accuracy and immediately reblog it.''

lances-a-lot OMG THATS FANTASTIC
 THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT BLUE DOES

white_iron Stare into the depths of your decrepit soul and find you wanting?

lances-a-lot haha, yes! blue acts like i dont spoil her rotten shes such a princess

white_iron I definitely know how that goes. Bee has three dog beds, but she insists on sleeping in my bed or in my roommate's.

lances-a-lot blue has peed in every. single. bed i bought for her i stopped trying after awhile it was getting to be an expensive exercise in futility

white_iron Two words. Dog toys.

Lance talks to Shiro for the next couple of hours while his laundry finishes. Mostly, they swap stories about their pets and commiserate about their less than desirable—if not inadvertently hilarious—behavior. Lance even tells Shiro about how he rescued Blue. In turn, Shiro talks about the process he had to go through to adopt Bee. Shiro mentions that Bee is a service dog; what for, he does not say.

Don't be that asshole, Lance reminds himself as the topic wanes. His comfort is more important than your curiosity.

Lance is having such a good time talking to Shiro that he barely notices midnight pass. In fact, if it weren't for the enormous, jaw-cracking yawn that his body produces, Lance would not have noticed at all.

lances-a-lot dude i just noticed what time it was like i could seriously talk about blue forever but laundry sleep ADULTING i have calc at 8 am, ugh kill me now

white_iron Tell me about it. I have to TA an 8 a.m. class.

There is a small pause. Lance gnaws on his bottom lip as he watches the ellipsis that indicates typing flicker in and out of existence.

white_iron Talk to you tomorrow?

Lance bites down harder on his lip. Normally, he would send back a quick affirmation before logging off, but his interaction with Shiro feels different than the interactions he's had in the past. Their chemistry is undeniable and their conversation never felt flat or stilted. Yet while Lance knows he's been lowkey flirting with Shiro, he cannot be sure if Shiro has been flirting back.

Fuck it, Lance thinks as he gathers all his courage and sets his fingers back on the keyboard. He can feel how warm his cheeks are. Just do it.

lances-a-lot its a date ;)

After he sends the message, Lance closes his laptop and jumps off the armchair. He feels jittery and unsure, yet also oddly hopeful that maybe this time—for the first time—his interest won't be a mistake.

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