#my hand is about to fall off and its 10pm so good enough i guess

[moeblob]

"????????" - Ymber about nearly everything out of Deacon's mouth.

[norarigby]

Ushijima Wakatoshi - The Late Nights

The Little Black Box Masterlist

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader (technically gender neutral, but it is mentioned that the reader has long hair so keep that in mind)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talking about feelings?

Word count: ~1k

A/n: hmm, again, I don’t love how this turned out, but it has its moments. Ushijima was hard to think of for this kind of thing, but I think I came up with a mediocre concept.

Ushijima didn’t really understand what had you in such a fit of laugher in this moment. Your head was thrown back as silent giggles left your mouth. You had only had a few sips but Ushijima was sure that you were going to fall over at any moment now. And even if he didn’t understand why, a smile flitted across his lips as he watched you.

He guess it might’ve had something to do with the wine you had smuggled with you. You both had rushed out of the Olympic Village so quick he must’ve not seen the bottle peaking out of the bag.

The Olympics had been exhausting for Ushijima, and rightly so. The workouts were brutal and the constant pressure of trying to be the best was taking a slight toll on the spiker. Over the past few weeks, you had noticed his mental health starting to tank. So in a burst of spontaneity, you had shown up with a bag in hand to drag him away for a late night date. He grumbled while putting his shoes on, but you knew that he was secretly overjoyed to spend time with you and take his mind off the stress for a while.

You had found some park on the outskirts of Tokyo to have your picnic date. You had brought a nice blanket to sit on and as you unpacked the bag, Ushijima was surprised to say the least when he had found his favorite meal laid out in front of him—you promised you wouldn’t tell Iwaizumi or his personal trainer, jokingly adding that calories eaten after 10PM didn’t count.

Throughout the dinner, Ushijima expressed his frustrations and exhaustion while you listened to his dutifully. When prompted, you would even add your own advice or reassurance. He wasn’t very good with his feelings, but he had been getting better. It helped how patient and understanding you had been with him, not just during the dinner but ever since the two of you started dating.

So as the topic shifted to something much for trivial, Ushijima felt as though a weight had been lifted off of him. It was nice to have someone to just listen to you and let you know that you were doing alright. He had never really known how nice it was to just let it all out to understanding ears. So even if it was hours past the time he should be in bed, it didn’t matter. He knew this time with you was worth it.

Especially as you wiped the tears from your eyes, finally calming down from laughing about whatever you had found so hilarious. But he still hadn’t figured out why you were laughing so hard. The curiosity was killing him, “What’s so funny?”

You sent him a playful look a disbelief, “You! Why am I just now finding out that you still sleep with a volleyball plushie?”

“It’s comfortable,” He sat back so his weight was resting on his hands, “Besides, I’m sure you have your own ‘embarrassing’ habits.”

“Nope, not a single one. I don’t have a single embarrassing bone in my body.”

His eyebrow quirked up and he smirked, “Is that so? So what about the Adlers sweatshirt you hide in your closet every time I come over? Or the keychain of mini me you hide in your purse? Or the-“

“That’s enough!” You tackled him to the ground, silencing his confession. You hovered over him while glaring daggers into his skull. But your face softened into a small smile when you saw how amused he was. “How did you even know about those in the first place?”

He chuckled and tucked a section of your hair behind your ear, “My dear, you’re not very good at hiding things from me.”

You groaned and fell onto his chest, too embarrassed to come up with a response. Ushijima, pleased that he had one-upped your teasing, pulled you closer to his chest and rubbed circles into your back.

These soft moments with Ushijima were semi rare, mostly because of his busy schedule. Regardless, you always made sure to savor anything you got with him. So even though you felt a tad bit embarrassed, you sighed and sank into his embrace.

But this moment was cut particularly short when you felt something on the back of your neck. You pushed up on his chest, “‘Toshi, did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

Almost comically, it began to downpour out of nowhere. You and Ushijima stared at each other for a moment before scrambling to get everything and run to the car. Meanwhile, your laughter and shrieks rang through the air joined by Ushijima’s own low chuckles.

Slamming the car doors shut there was a moment of silence. Then the two of you broke out into laughter again. As Ushijima calmed down a bit, he held your face in his hands and gave you a chaste kiss. Although, the kiss wasn’t exactly great. You were still giggling and he couldn’t stop his lips from smiling. But he still tried to make it somewhat romantic and loving.

You held his hands in your own, leaning your forehead against his. Closing your eyes, you hummed as the last giggles escaped your lips, “‘m sorry that ended with the rain. I should’ve checked the weather. Hopefully, you won’t get sick.”

“I would get sick a hundred times if it meant I got to be with you.”

“Aw, ‘Toshi,” You whined. “You’re getting too soft. It’s making me flustered.”

You tried to pull away, but his hands held you in place, “I mean it, y/n.”

You sighed, “I love you too.” Placing a kiss on the inside of his palm, you pulled away to start the car. “Now let’s get you back so you can get dry and warm.”

There was more Ushijima wanted to say. But he wasn’t very good with words anyhow. So as you started drove back, he let his mind wander. He thought about what you’d done for him and how he couldn’t imagine a life without you. While holding your hand, he also thought about how better it would feel if you had a band on your ring finger.

Ushijima wasn’t very good with words. So he hoped you would understand everything he felt could be described by the little box that was in his jacket pocket and the question he was determined to ask you tonight.

(Posted March 11, 2021 11:57AM MST)

[levi-ish]

Little Talks | 2

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

A/N: if you find any mistakes, its because most of the times i’m writing i’m wine drunk or high and watching some weird anime.

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Fuck no, I’d rather eat shit and die” you slapped your hand on the counter and Jean let out a high-pitched laugh, bringing up another shot glass and the good tequila they held only for employees, earning a ‘woo’ from you.

“I’m just suggesting” he gave you your own glass and you both downed it at the same time, letting out the weirdest faces from the burning sensation going through your throat. “If he was a good fuck, why not go and have some hate sex?”

“What the fuck, Jean?!” You gave him a frown, pushing the shot glass forward and leaning on top of your arm, looking up to see your bartender getting hammered like you.

You liked those nights when you were one of the last ones remaining in the bar and Jean would drink with you till you both couldn’t remember your own names, and then flirt aimlessly while drinking some shitty margaritas. Sometimes he would let you mix the alcohol, and you would throw ice at each other.

“I’m just saying—” he grabbed the beer bottle beside him and gave it a sip, passing to you next. “—you told me he was an asshole, and hate sex is the best sex. So why not?!”

“He literally cheated on me!” You spat, shoving Jean’s shoulder while gulping down the remaining of the beer. “Fuck, open another one.”

“It’s all going on your tab, Kirstein” said the hoarse voice from the other side of the counter, attracting both of your eyes there.

Levi was cleaning the remaining dishes, drying the glasses as he adjusted his black apron and gave you another one of his expressionless stares. You had noticed he started to linger around since last week when you two shared a drink. He wasn’t that bad, he was actually kinda nice, you had to admit. Even though he had this dark aura, he was good company for your late evenings.

“Yea, yea, Captain Grumpy-Pants” Jean fanned his hand and grabbed another beer from the minifridge, opening it with his teeth.

“Jean!” You drunkenly leaned your upper body on the countertop, cheeks reddening from the newcomer heat you got from the alcohol.

The raven-haired man just rolled his eyes and disappeared into the back, leaving you two alone with your childish giggles and murmurs.

“I swear, the man is like my grandpa” the bartender said, gulping down the beer and passing it to you. “Why he has been taking late night shifts, I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” You downed your fair share, coughing a bit from the bitter cold taste.

“He would always leave before 10PM, the latest I’ve seen him around was midnight.” Jean burped and you pushed him jokingly. “I’d say he has a crush on you.”

“W-What?”

You felt your heart thump from the inside of your ears, blushing right away — but you would blame it on the alcohol.

“Nah, just fucking with you. The old man wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re nasty” you shoved him again, harder this time and he let out another laugh. “—besides, he has a stick too far up his own ass to get involved with other people.”

Levi came out from the back, now in his casual clothes, wearing a long-sleeved green shirt and black jeans, his apron folded on his arm as he walked to the counter to put away the now clean glasses. You saw him a few times before coming to work, but it would be just for a split second, so you never noticed how his clothes would hug the well-defined muscles. He didn’t seem like the type to be ripped, so you guessed he did a good job in hiding it.

“Hold up” the other bartender held a hand to his stomach, his eyes widening as his expression changed into a pained one. “Yup. Definitely going to puke.”

He rushed to the back, leaving only you and Levi on the counter. The soft country song played in the old jukebox as you laid on the counter once more, watching the shorter man as his hands worked on the clean glasses. You could see the veins that traced back to his arms as his fingers moved quickly, the image now stuck in your mind as you wondered how those palms would feel against your throat, how warm would his breath feel fanning on your face, how…

“You look like shit” he said, startling you to the point you almost fell off the stool. What the fuck?

“You don’t look so good either” you bit back now frowning at him.

Levi grabbed one of the glasses and filled it with tap water, putting it right in front of you. You stared at him, confused as he just let out a ‘tch’ and grabbed a handkerchief to dry his hands.

“Sober up.” He commanded, his tone now lower, making something stir inside your belly.

“I don’t feel like sobering up” you retorted, grabbing the glass anyways. “The night is young.”

“It’s 4AM” he rose a brow, staring at you once more. “The bar closed two hours ago.”

You rolled your eyes, gulping down to the last drop and laid your head between your crossed arms above the counter. “Jean and I are celebrating.”

“What exactly?”

“Another Friday!” You gave him a sloppy smile and let out a yawn, earning a concerned look.

The creaky door from the back room opened suddenly, and a stumbly Jean came into the bar, grogginess all over his face while Levi crossed his arms over his — dare you say, very muscly — chest.

“Well, that went bad” the taller man burped and leaned onto the counter like you were, letting out a defeated groan as he did.

“You’re such a lightweight” you joked, and the man groaned once more.

“Fuck off. I’ve been through a lot.”

Levi turned around suddenly, another disappointed ‘tch’ coming out of his mouth as he signaled the backdoor.

“C’mon. I’m taking you two home.”

You and Jean exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, leaving the poor man confused but not short of apathy on his face.

“Sorry shorty” Jean stood straight and put a finger under his chin, “you’re not my type.”

At that point, Levi was pretty much done with both of you as you laughed thoroughly. He slapped Jean’s shoulder and grabbed his wrist, walking to the other side of the counter and grabbing yours also and dragging your drunken bodies to the back entrance. You and the blonde boy were giggling under your breath, thinking the older man wouldn’t notice at all, and he just pretended not to, too tired to deal with that shit.

“Are we having a threesome?!” Jean tripped on his feet, following the other man as he coughed a bit. “Threesome! Threesome! Threesome!”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Jean!” You threw him a disgusted gaze as you tried to keep your distance.

“You just wanna fuck shorty. He’s boooring.”

You pushed Jean and laughed as he stumbled again, almost falling this time.

Levi rolled his eyes as he dragged you two out of the bar, turning off the lights and locking the door behind you, now letting go of your wrists. You looked around to find the streets empty and the starry sky above you. Everything was quiet, the way you enjoyed your nights, and only two cars were parked, a black BMW and a white sedan you recognized as Jean’s from the times he took you home when you were too drunk. So the other one must’ve belonged to Levi.

“Yo, Y/N, I think it’s not a threesome anymore” Jean leaned in and tried to whisper, but his voice was high enough for Levi to hear “, I’m pretty sure we are getting kidnapped.”

“Shut up, Jean” you rolled eyes at him as you watched the raven-haired man unlock the car and shoved the other one in.

You were standing on his side when he gave you a slight gaze, signaling the inside of the car as you nodded, putting your hand on the top of the door to steady yourself, but as you put one foot inside, your hand slipped, and you were going for a face-in fall.

It was going to be your most disgraceful moment. You had awful times when you fell while drunk — like that one time when you fell from a bridge, diving into the dirty lake near Mikasa’s house and everyone took pictures, making it the icon of your groupchat for months before changing into a picture of Sasha sleeping while hugging a bag of potatoes — but this time, you were going to fall in front of someone you actually fancied, the first person you showed any kind of interest since the fiasco with your ex. It had been almost two months.

A pair of strong hands held your shoulders as your own grabbed the collar of his shirt for stability, holding onto his chest for dear life. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold fingertips, now daring to look up to find his eyes staring right into your soul. His mouth was slightly parted, just enough for you to fawn over and have a thousand scenarios going through your mind.

Oh, how you wanted him to just cup your face and close the gap…

Wait, what are you thinking?

A loud snore came from the car, bringing your attention to a sleeping Jean who was splayed all over the backseat, a trail of drool falling off his lips as his feet twitched.

Levi straightened you in place, clearing his throat as he offered you one hand.

“Careful” he whispered as you kept on staring, only to shake your head, dropping out of the state of trance you found yourself in.

You looked down as the man helped you inside, not even daring to meet his gaze after that moment, still feeling your cheeks hotter than your pounding heart. Levi’s hands adjusted the seatbelt around your body, and you tried not to think too much about it as you kept looking forward.

“Don’t throw up” he ordered and you groaned, rolling your eyes as he closed the door.

Watching as the man turned around, you waited until he sat inside and started the car, now feeling dizzier than before to just lean your head on the window, watching as the sky slowly turned into orange, signaling the morning was just around the corner. Suddenly, your lids felt heavier than stone and you started to doze off, the sky now turning black as you closed your eyes. Just for a second.

You weren’t aware, but Levi kept his gaze on you from the corner of his eye, feeling too intrusive to stare any longer, but too weak to look away. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but the sides of his lips curled upwards in a small — almost inexistent — smile.

[cucumbers-and-olives]

Enemies To Lovers- Part Two (Charlie Gillespie x reader)

i forgot to post this last night, oops! here it is now...

<<<part one—part three>>>

Summary: Its New Years, and you fare asked to stay in town for the annual New Years party. But what happens before and during the party? Well that’s a story!

Category: it’s a league of its own

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Charlie Gillespie x reader

Word Count: 1,960 (woah)

⚠️PLEASE READ⚠️ Warnings/Includes: if mentions of drinking, drugs, (getting) roofied/drugged, strong language and typos

Please make sure you are comfortable before reading this chapter.

A/N: so it’s a few days late, i hope you guys enjoy this NYE fic a few days after

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: THANK YOU LOVES!!! you two literally hold me up and help me make my ideas into their finished product, so thank you!

AO3 link here (will be up by 1/7 10pm est, i’m have wifi issues at the moment)

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

“Y/N!” A woman said entering your room. It had been a week since you had arrived in the Gillespie home. In that short amount of time you had met all of Charlie’s younger cousins (there were only three, but they were a handful), celebrated Christmas the Gillespie way, and gotten into a total of five fights with Charlie over a range of things, but each one had a bigger fall out than the last. You supposed that was why at every meal your spot was next to his, an obvious way that Ms.Gillespie tried to “bring the two of you closer together.”

“Hun, you okay?” Ms.Gillespie said, her hand resting on yours. “You’ve been staring at that shirt for a while.”

“I’m alright, thank you,” You said, placing your shirt into the suitcase that lay on the floor. You were packing to leave, but you could tell that the older woman’s appearance in your room meant that you wouldn’t be leaving on your flight. You held your breath as she spoke.

“I’d like to invite you to stay through New Years. You’ve been such a help with the younger kids, and it’s been delightful to have you here.” She must have been telepathic at that point because she rushed out her next point. “And Charlie has agreed to play nice.”

“Ms.Gillespie, you are so kind, but I don’t think I have enough money-” You said, not wanting to overstay your welcome any longer.

“Nonsense, nonsense!” She cut you off. “I knew you would say this, it’s the kind of person you are, and so Charlie has found you a flight and we are paying for it.” You could tell that there was something that she was leaving out, but you could get hit with that later. Ignoring your work and your family was something that you were good at. And besides, hanging out at the Gillespie house was fun.

“Alright!” You agreed. She sweeped you up in a hug.

“Wonderful! Have you had lunch yet?” You shook your head. “Well that is perfect, I’ve got some sandwiches, so I expect to see you down in a few, okay?”

You nodded, and with that, she left, a smile on her face. You were excited to stay longer, but would Charlie’s promise hold? Would he really be nice for the remainder of your stay?

“Let’s hope so,” You said, closing your door and making your way to the kitchen. You should have been paying attention, but you weren’t. Bumping into someone, you both landed on the floor, your phones and other things flying.

“I am so sorry,” You said, picking up the various items. As you reached for one of the notebooks, your hands met and you finally saw who you had bumped into.

“Is this a game to you?” Charlie asked. His eyes were tear-stained, and you slowly noticed that some of the pages had tears on them too.

“I-” You picked his phone up along with yourself off the floor. “Are you okay?” You asked softly, tucking his phone into his back pocket, where you knew it had been before.

“Does it look like it? God, will you just fuck off! When are you leaving anyway?” He grumbled, his previously sad tone taking on a very harsh one. His hand that used to lay by his side was now in a very tight fist.

“I’m leaving after New Years. Your mom asked me to stay, and she’s paying for the flight back,” You said, answering honestly. You didn’t know what happened when he got angry- really, truly angry. And you didn’t want to see it.

“That’s why she had me- Oh my god, no. Just no.” He barked, stalking off.

“Yeah, you know what, fuck you too,” You whispered hotly, calming yourself down as you walked into the kitchen.

~

“Cause I don’t care when I’m with my baby yeah,” You sang along with the T.V. You enjoyed dancing to the Wii, and you hadn't minded when Anna had asked you to join. But the same song had played over five times now.

As the song ended, you placed your control down. “Gimme ten minutes, okay? I just gotta get some water,” She nodded, and you stepped out of the room and entered the kitchen.

“Is it this cabinet?” You said, opening the cabinet that you guessed the glasses were in. They weren’t in that one. Or the next, or the next or the next.

“Excuse me,” Charlie said, stepping around you to open a cabinet you could have sworn you had opened. He grabbed a glass and closed the cabinet, and poured himself a glass of water.

You opened the cabinet to grab a glass, but they seemed just out of your reach. You got on your tiptoes, and your fingers just brushed the edge of the glass.

He let out a little chuckle and grabbed the glass, and filled it up. “Thank you,” You said, reaching for it.

“Oh, you thought this was for you?” He feigned shock. “This is for Anna, she asked me to grab her a glass.”

“Are you kidding me?” You shouted after his retreating form. Sighing, you decided you could do without water as you walked back into the game room.

He sat smugly on the couch, sipping at his glass of water.

“Come on, let’s play!” Anna said, tugging at your hand.

“What song?” You asked, looking to the screen as she pressed play.

“I love it when you call me senorita, I wish I could pretend I didn’t need ya,” Anna sang to the track.

You felt the beat and began to follow the moves on the screen. You knew Charlie was staring at you, and so you made everything bigger. More power, more accuracy, more everything.

When the song ended, he walked out of the room, but he backtracked to whisper something in your ear.

“Strictly professional, Ms.Y/L/N. You aren’t that good of a dancer.”

~

“What do you think of this, Anna?” You said, showing the young girl the sparkling black dress you had on.

“You need more color! And that’s too shiny, and you wore it to Christmas dinner, and-“ She could have kept going, but she caught sight of something in your closet and pulled it out. “This! This is perfect!” Red, off-the shoulder, a leg slit, it was something you would never wear in a million years.

“I’ll… try it on?” You said, and Anna smiled as you stepped into the bathroom.

You pulled it off the black dress and put on the red one, but as you zipped up the back of the dress there was something in the way. A little card.

“Huh,” You were confused as you pulled it out, but as you read it, everything made sense.

You placed the card down to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, falling down every curve perfectly. It wasn’t you that you saw in the mirror. It was who you pictured in your mind when you thought of yourself.

“Can I see it now?” Anna asked, knocking on the door.

“Yeah,” You said, opening the door.

“Woah,” She gasped softly, looking you up and down. “I think Charlie’s gonna love it.”

Before you could say anything in response, Anna ran out of the room.

~

“Really?”’ You said as you accepted the call on your phone. “I look amazing, but why?”

“Remind me what you’re talking about?” Savannah asked.

“Your acting is on point, Savannah Lee May.”

“Ooh, full name, I’m so scared!” She laughed. “You look good in red, and I knew you would need a dress for New Years!”

“Ya know, if you want to switch to facetime, all you need to do is ask. And the answer is yes.” You rolled your eyes as she squealed, quickly switching to facetime.

“You look stunning!” She gasped. “I wish I could pull off a dress that good!” She whined a bit.

“Who are you talking to?” Owen hollered in the background.

“Y/N! She looks amazing in the dress, come see!”

“Hey Y/N,” Owen said, stepping into frame. He made a face at Savannah. “If she wears that, you have to deal with Charlie when he calls to ruin my New Years.”

“What does he mean?” You asked. Savannah muted herself and had a heated argument with Owen before answering you.

“When we were drunk one time, Charlie talked about his ex. Specifically, the dress she always wore. A red off the shoulder with,” You cut her off.

“With one leg slit. Well that is specific, and I am not the woman that he wants to see in it.”

“It goes further,” She said. “The only people that heard that conversation were Jer, Caroline, Owen and I. So he’ll know that I did this, and he will call Owen to let out his frustration. He’s a nice guy, in that he’ll only yell at men. Truly yell.”

“Wow. So you are sending me into a death trap?”

“Not exactly-“ Owen’s phone rang, cutting her off.

“It’s him! Get over here and answer the phone for me please, Sav!” Owen shouted.

“Who?”

“Anna must’ve told him. She found the dress in my stuff.” You told her and she sighed, hanging up.

~

Music played loudly, filling every corner of the house. And where the music was, there were people. Maybe 75 or so, but it was only 11:30, and you had a feeling that number would increase. You didn’t know what, or more specifically who you were looking for as you scanned the room you were in.

“Hey doll, have a drink!” A random man said, and as he walked by he passed a drink to you. A clear but faintly yellow liquid was in the cup. You didn’t want to know what it was.

“Bottoms up-“ You said, about to tip the cup back and down it before someone pulled it out of your hands.

“I may despise you, but I am not about to let you get roofied,” Charlie said, handing you a beer. “Don’t you know that you have to be holding something at one of these kinds of parties?”

“I didn’t realize it was gonna be one of these kinds of parties,” You muttered, taking a swig of the beer.

“It’s always been like this,” He said, watching all of the couples.

“How close are we to midnight?” You asked.

“Maybe 30 miniutes? I’m gonna go see how my family is.” He said, leaving you in your tiny corner.

~

“10,” The room continued to chant.

You searched the room for Charlie, or at least a familiar face. Couples surrounded you, preparing to kiss at midnight. And you, like a 5 year old, prepared to cover your eyes.

“9,” There was no sign of him, but there were a few men around the room with a similar haircut. You slowly ruled them out.

“8,” His hair was too short.

“7,” His was too dark.

“6,” He was too short.

“5, 4,” You started to give up, just as you saw a couple emerge from one of the back rooms. That couldn’t be him, could it?

“3!” But that was his voice.

“2!” And that was his jacket. Your face dropped as you prepared yourself. You knew what the incoming trainwreck was but you couldn’t look away.

“Happy New Year!” The couples shouted before pulling their lover close.

You watched as his lips met hers. You looked for a bit too long before tearing your eyes away and stalking to your room. But you couldn’t help but look back, and when you did, your eyes met his for a moment.

And the mood shifted.

~

Send me an ask if you’d like to join my tag list(s)! Strike through means i wasn’t able to tag you.

Enemies to Lovers Tag List: @yagorlemmalyn @ifilwtmfc @kaitieskidmore1 @p0uge420

JATP: @n0wornever @unsaidmegan @calamitykaty @screwunsaidemily @crybabyddl @badwolf00593

All: @funsizearsonist

[g0ldengubler]

chapter two~a mysterious night

(*i do not own this gif*)

A/N: aaaaaaa i know i know i went from a really long chapter to a filler, but at least y'all get some backstory to how Y/N feels and thinks! thank you guys so much for the love on chapter 1! it seriously means a lot :’) also, i’ve been asked about a taglist and that was the one note i completely forgot about. i’m unfamiliar with them so if someone could message me what taglists are and what its purpose is that would be amazing! don’t worry though, those who have asked about it will be put on once i get to it, just ask for your patience. ok, enjoy the next chapter :)

Category: fluff

CW: there’s a bit of smut in here and mentions of weed and hangovers, but other than that it’s just a pure fluffy filler :)

Word Count: 2065

before you read | last chapter | next chapter

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

You woke up the next day feeling so/so. You didn't feel hungover because you were smart and had lots of water in between drinks, probably because your mouth would get dry whenever you got even more high. You look over to the other side of the couch and see Spencer, still asleep. He was hugging his book bag like he did on the jet when he took a nap. You quietly get out your phone and check up on anything you might've missed, which even though you had a lot of notifications from tweets and story updates, nothing was there for you to click on it quickly and check it out. You open your photos app and look at the pictures and short videos you took from last night. You always documented every party, every time you hung out with another human being, because those moments meant a lot to you. You didn't get them often in life.

You swipe along, remembering how the night ended. After Spencer got out of the bathroom, everything went back to normal, like that little thing he did never happened. You finished the game and then Garcia got up with Morgan and they started dancing to the music that was still playing. They invited everyone else to get up and dance, too and that you did.  You danced with Spencer, but not in a seductive way. You were both being goofy and doing stupid moves that made everyone else in the room question you. You were even showing him ones that people do online and he wasn't getting it at all because he doesn't use social media. It was so hilarious you almost peed your pants from laughing so hard. If this was a sober event would you laugh that much? Probably not, but you couldn't help it. Jj was passed out through the whole dance party and Emily eventually did as well, snuggling with her. When you looked over to see them, they were still in the same positions they were last night.

Garcia walks in with some tea and Advil. "Oh good, I had a feeling you'd be awake!" She whispered.

She hands you a very colorful mug with pink and purple tie dye pattern and unicorns all over it. You told her thank you and took the Advil. "Oooo, pumpkin spice my favorite!" you said after taking a sip. "I had a feeling," she said, "You give me fall vibes through and through."

"Are you sure you're not a profiler as well, Penelope?"

Garcia chuckled. "I mean, when you work with them for over a decade, some it rubs right onto you."

Slowly everyone else woke up and you helped Garcia handing out the aid. Spencer woke up last and as you handed him his Advil and tea, he spoke raspy, "I haven't had a headache like this in months."

"I'm sure you'll live." you said, roughing up his hair a bit more than it already was. You check the time and your phone and stood up quickly. "Hey, I'm sorry guys I know we were planning on going to breakfast but I feel more tired than I should so I think I'm gonna go take a nap at my place."

"I can give you a ride." said Spencer.

"Yeah, that'd be great, Thanks Spence!"

You say goodbye to everyone and thanked Garcia for a wonderful night. She promised that this night can happen again with the girls on Friday night and you were all in for it. You walked out with Spencer and got in his car and drove home. It was quiet at first. You kept looking over at him, thinking about last night, wanting more of his touch, even more than his touch. You needed him, but you knew that it probably won't happen again.

"So, you remember anything about last night?" you asked him, trying to be normal about it but you could feel yourself failing.

"I do actually," he said, "I never knew this about myself, but even as messed up as I was, my eidetic memory still worked."

You began to blush as your eyes grew a bit wide. So he remembers what we did then? You thought to yourself. You were silent again the rest of the way there. You were pretty close to your apartment when all of a sudden you felt a hand rest on your thigh. You look up to see it was Spencers, but you didn't flinch. You didn't want to be obvious and ruin everything. You stayed quiet until he spoke, "I also remember the fun we had in Garcia's room."

To your surprise, you were already back at your place. You went to the back to grab your bags and went to the passenger window. "Thank you again, Spence!"

"Anytime you did a ride, I'll be your chauffeur!"

You both smiled and you waved goodbye. You started walking to the front door when Spencer called out for you again. "Y/N wait!"

You turn around, confused as to what he was gonna say. You didn't think it would be...

"Call me when you wake up, I have something planned for us tonight if you're down."

A Couple Hours Later

"Spence, don't stop!"

He kept going, not going off beat as he made you scream for him. You could feel your stomach in knots. You were ready for him. You needed him inside you. He was making you scream, begging him for it. He gave you a dark smile. He was really enjoying the sight of you so helpless and being a little brat.

You could  tell he was close by his cock twitching.

"Spencer I'm close pleeeasseee!" you beg.

"Cum for me.  Be a good girl and cum for daddy." he growled.

It was building up and building up. You were ready....

*Ding Ding*

You wake up to your phone going off. How long had you been asleep. You slowly grab your phone and see that it was 3pm. Not too bad you guessed. You saw you had a couple of text messages from the BAU group chat, sharing the pictures from last night. You remembered what happened on the way home, yet you couldn't remember  the dream you just had. Shit, you said you'd call him.

You go to the group chat and click on his name to call. As it rings, you get nervous as to what he had in mind of doing.

"Hello?" (A/N: Think of that one audio on tik tok where he starts of with saying hello and then it goes to 'baby hotline' lol)

"Spence, hey! It's Y/N."

"Oh hey Y/N! I have something fun planned if you want to hang out tonight."

"What's that?"

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again but sounded unsure of himself. "Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not sure if you'd find it fun. It might be boring but um...would you want to get high and walk around DC?"

You thought for a moment. This wasn't a bad idea, but part of you was kind of surprised that he asked you. He could've asked Jj or Emily or Garcia since she was the one who gave you the pens. Why would he ask the newbie? Then you remembered that he said he remembered everything from last night...

"Sure," you said, "sounds fun! What time were you thinking?"

"Let's say 10pm? You know that park that's on Jefferson?"

"Yeah, I remember seeing it when I gave myself a little tour of the city."

"What?!" He sounded shocked, but he could've just been playful. Why would anyone be shocked at you? "You did a tour by yourself?"

"Well yeah silly, I gave myself a tour the day before my first!"

"Ok, that's it. Our walk around the city will now be an official tour and I'll be your official tour guide!"

You let out a little laugh. "Ok, "pretty boy", I'll take you up on that."

"Great! I'll see you there at 10!"

You said your goodbyes and hung up. Spencer sounded more confident than when you first met him. You thought that he would be the shy and awkward type that would take days, even weeks, to ask someone to even hang out with him, let alone go on a date. Wait, was this a date? No. A date would be like fancy dinner with expensive wine and then either going somewhere after that or back to either place and have sex. This was just two friends getting high and hanging out, you finally convinced yourself, Like anyone, even Spencer for that matter, would like you enough to take out on a date.

So now, you had 7 hours to not overthink and play in your head how you think this would go. This was the time to pretend like it was just something in your planner that you wrote down to do for the day. You wondered why you were so flustered and nervous to hang out with someone, acting like it was a date. Did that little scandalous event you had last night really affect you that much? You told yourself to snap out of it a few times before going into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Once you had your food, you grabbed a beer and headed to the couch to continue rewatching Murder, She Wrote on Netflix. You didn't watch much tv, but when you do it's mostly crime shows, Rupaul's Drag Race, or old sitcoms like Golden Girls. Murder, She Wrote had always been your comfort show. It something you went to when having a bad day or you were nervous about something. Anything negative you felt, you turned on the show and think about living like Jessica when you retired. Moving to a small town on the east coast, writing stories and making friends with everyone. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you wanted to be like Rossi, too.

And there you were, for 3 hours hours before you took the remaining four you had left to get ready.

10pm-Jefferson Park

You make your way into the park. It was chilly, dark, and peaceful, something you admired about the night. You had gotten ready before, but didn't do anything special. You wore your grandpa sweater with black mom jeans and your vans. Your makeup was your everyday, wings with a nude pink lip. You didn't dress so exciting because you were just hanging out with someone, so you didn't worry about it much. Sitting on a bench waiting, you start to play a game on your phone to take your mind off from running in circles. After ten minutes, you heard your name being called out. "Y/N?"

You look over to see Spencer, long hair and all. He wore a brown sweater with jeans and black converse. He almost looked like he was ready to head into the BAU at anytime, which you thought cute of his aesthetic. He came over by you, hands gripped to his book bag strap, smiling awkwardly but with a bit of excitement.

"Hey, Spence!" you said, waving at him. He just stood in front of you as you talked for a minute.

"Did you walk here?" He asked.

"Yeah," you said, "I live pretty close to here actually. Didn't realize that until tonight."

"Oh really? Me too! I just live half a block away."

You both awkwardly laughed and then went awkwardly silent until he said, "Um, I know a spot we could sit at before we start walking."

"Lead the way, Doctor!" you say as you get up.

He takes your hand in his and runs for a bit. You didn't know he was gonna drag you along, but you could tell that from that moment on, this was going to be a ride; A fun ride full of adventures.

[kiirokero]

Tryst (JHS)

Tryst: A private romantic rendezvous between lovers.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot series.

Masterlist

Pairing: GroceryManager!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance, humour, dating in secret, swearing, established relationship (kinda)

Note: I’m so tired please lol I’m hibernating all of April. I know I’ll wake up in the morning and find this absolute shit and cringe at the fact that people saw it.

Summary: Having a best friend with his own grocery store is the perfect equation for late nights looking up at the stars, snacking on cheap junk food, and “Are we about to kiss right now?” Jokes.

Word Count: 4.2k

“Stay away from Hoseok, I don’t like him.”

      Those were the words your brother, Kim Namjoon, said to you when you first saw Hoseok in the village. It was a cool afternoon. It had just rained the night before, so the streets were damp from yesterday's showers. This was your favorite kind of day. Right after rainfall, the weather in Bangtan Village always seemed to be perfect. 

     There was always a smooth breeze as the clouds in the sky slightly dissipated, revealing just a sliver of sun to give the petrichor day a warm feeling. However, the worst part of it was the puddles. Jumping in puddles on purpose may be a fun pastime for you, much to the dismay of your stick-in-the-mud brother, but it was only fun if you did it on purpose. Not accidentally slipping and being caught by a handsome stranger.

      When you slipped in that puddle outside the grocery store your brother always told you to avoid, you weren’t expecting such a handsome man to catch you. You were sure that you were going to get a face full of asphalt, but strong arms suddenly wrapped their way around you and you fell into the chest of none other than Jung Hoseok. But you didn’t know it was him at the time.

      “I’m so sorry!” You said, standing back up with the help of the man in front of you. “It’s okay! I’m just glad you didn’t fall,” He smiled, and you felt your heart rate pick up. “Thank you for sparing me the experience,” You chuckled, nervously scratching the back of your neck. “Not a problem! Be careful, yeah?” He said, waving you goodbye as he went back into the grocery store.

“Why? What has he done that’s so bad?”

      That is what you asked your fuming brother when you told him about the incident in front of the grocery store. “Stay away from him,” Is what he spat out at you, angrily working on the car that was in front of him, hood popped and engine exposed. “You didn’t answer my question,” You retorted, getting annoyed at his pissed reaction. 

      “What part of “Stay away from Hoseok, I don’t like him.” do you not understand?” He groaned, wiping away the oil that spilled onto his hands. Finally looking at you. “The part where you give me a valid reason,” You hit back, standing tall, back straight and arms cross. 

      Namjoon sighed, “I just don’t like him is all,” He said, grabbing another one of his tools to get back to working. “Wow, you totally passed persuasive writing in school, didn’t you?” You rolled your eyes, heading towards the exit of Namjoon’s workshop. “Don’t get smart with me,” He hissed through gritted teeth. “Too late, you’re the one who sent me to school,” You shrugged, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you. 

      You loved Namjoon with all of your heart. He was there to raise you when your parents disappeared and he was there to catch you whenever you fell. But sometimes you didn’t understand him. You understood that he felt the need to protect you. You weren’t exactly the strongest person health wise, but sometimes he crossed the thin, blurred line of protecting you and sheltering you from being your own person.

      You were a bedridden child. Always catching colds and flus whenever they spread around the town, and you caught them bad. You had gotten better now; you were 21, so your immune system had somewhat gotten its shit together. That didn’t mean you weren’t still an immunocompromised person, but it was better than before. 

      Namjoon was the one who always took care of you. He got you your medicine, he cooked your food (Or got his boyfriend Jin to do it) and he sat with you until you fell asleep on restless nights. He was your rock, and you could never express just how grateful you were for him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to get mad at him, and you always made sure he knew it. He was the one who made you so headstrong after all, him himself being stubborn as a mule. 

You loved him, and he knew it, but you also hated some of his helicopter tendencies. 

“I hope I see you there,”

      Those were the words that ended your first conversation with Jung Hoseok. No matter how adamant Namjoon was about you steering clear of the man, you didn’t listen. Something about his smile, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his skin made you want to go back and see him again. So you did.,

     One afternoon when Namjoon was busy with cars and you had the time away from your language studies, you went to go see the allusive man. Walking through the streets, you made your way to the forbidden store, not hesitating to step in. “Welcome!” That same cheery voice greeted you. Turning to your left, you saw Hoseok standing behind the counter. 

      When your eyes locked, you saw his face light up in recognition. “Hey! It’s you! How are you?” He said, giving you his full attention. “I’m good,” You responded, walking up to the counter and leaning your hip on it. “I never got your name,” Hoseok said, a smile never leaving his face. “Kim Y/n,” You answered. Hoseok’s looked surprised for a second, but quickly schooled his facial expression. 

     “K-Kim? Oh, cool, cool... You don’t happen to know a um, Taehyung, do you?” He coughed awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers. “No, I’m not related to that Kim. Namjoon is my brother,” You shrugged, curious of his reaction, “N-Namjoon? Oh, he’s... He’s nice...” He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes. “He is. He can be a jerk sometimes though. Anyway, changing the subject, I have a proposal for you,” You smiled, hoping to calm Hoseok down.

      Hoseok lifted his head up from the tiles he was intently staring at. “What is it?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You know that hill on the edge of town? The one that overlooks the forest that everyone is afraid of?” You inquire. Hoseok slowly nodded his head. “Great! Meet me at 10pm. I hope I see you there,” You said, giving him a wave as you jogged out of the store.

      Dressed in one of Namjoon’s thick sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants, you sat down in the grass, moonlight illuminating the space around you as you prayed that Hoseok would show up. It was about 9:50, 10 minutes until the designated meeting time you had set. 

      You didn’t even know if Hoseok was free at this time, for all you know this could be his shelf stocking time. But you hoped. You hoped that in your nervous haste you were able to come off confident and persuasive enough for Hoseok to show up and humour you and your weird request. 

      Checking your phone again, the time read 10:06pm. Sighing, you shoved it back into your pocket and wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your head on top of them. You had begun to contemplate getting up and sneaking back home when the sound of footsteps on the grass behind you caught your attention. Whipping around, you saw Hoseok make his way to the top of the hill.

      He was dressed similarly to you; He had a black sweatshirt on and blue jeans. He looked elegant in the moonlight; the shine bounced off his brown hair and illuminated his pale skin nicely. When he spotted you, his eyebrows raised and his chest bounced up and down in a light laugh. He walked over to you, not saying anything yet as he sat down next to you, gazing out into the forest. 

     “You came,” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him. “I did,” Was his answer, still gazing out into the forested patch of land. “I was starting to lose hope,” You admitted. “Well, I’m here now,” He shrugged, finally turning to look back at you. “You’re not going to murder me out here, right? Because I can scream pretty loud,” He chuckled, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

     “Nah, not the homicide kind of person. Arson? Maybe, but homicide? No, too messy,” You joked, earning a real boisterous laugh from the man beside you. “I like your honestly,” He snorted, a sparkle in his eye. “I get that from my brother,” You shrugged. Hoseok deflated a bit at the mention of Namjoon. Curious, you decided to ask him why. 

      Turning your entire body to face him, you squinted your eyes at him, gaining a look of confusion from him. “Whats up between you and my brother?” You asked, getting straight to the point. “Wow you really are like Namjoon, no beating around the bush huh?” He chuckled. After a second, Hoseok sighed and looked down somberly. “We went to highschool together, we even used to be friends, but that changed our senior year,”

“How so?” You asked,

“We got into an argument...”

“About what?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Hoseok asked with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You smiled back. 

      Hoseok playfully shook his head, “It was me really, I betrayed his trust in the dumbest of ways,” He cringed. “Do you know that Namjoon’s...” Hoseok trailed off, childishly poking both of his finger together. “What? Gay?” You guessed, “Yes, he’s always been open about it to me.” Hoseok let out a sigh of relief, laying back on the grass. “Well, he told me and asked me to keep it a secret. Not everybody in our school was the most accepting. But my big mouth accidentally let it slip one day...”

“Wow, really?” You said,

“Yeah, I know. Asshole move.” He sighed.

“You got that right,” You poked him in the ribs, earning a hiss from him.

“I deserved that. I honestly didn’t mean to let it slip, but I’ve never been good with secrets. I apologized profusely to him, but he never forgave me. I don’t blame him, the amount of scrutiny he got was disgusting, I wouldn’t forgive me either.” Hoseok stopped to take a deep breath, “He never talked to me again after that. It hurt, but I got over it eventually, accepted that it was all my fault, and moved on.” 

      You nodded, letting out a small hum. “Is this the part where you smite me and walk away?” Hoseok asked, turning his head to look at you. “No. You made a mistake, and you apologized. It’s ultimately up to Namjoon to forgive you, but it’s up to me who I hang out with, and you’re pretty cool Seok,” You said, laying down in the grass next to him. “Seok? ...I like that,” He chuckled. 

“Well Seok, do you know any constellations?” 

      That was the first of many late night rendezvous. The more you got to know Hoseok and talk to him, the more you came to realize that he was a cool person. He wasn’t the bad person Namjoon made him out to be, just a cool guy who made a dumb mistake. 

      Most nights, Hoseok would bring snack from his store for the two of you to eat while you looked up at the sky and tried to spot constellations. Chips, candy, the occasional piece of fruit if you made him mad the previous night and he wanted to get back at you. It was a lot of junk food and philosophical talks. 

By philosophical talks, you mean debating questions like, “What name would you give the ninja turtles besides the names they have now?”

And apparently Donatello is totally a Henry to Hoseok. 

      “Come on Seok, I’m telling you, fighting a bunch of penguin-sized horses is the better alternative!” You argued, stuffing a chip into your mouth. “Uh no I’d be more terrified that way. One horse-sized penguin is enough for me. Plus, it’d be cute!” He gushed, biting into a matcha Pockey. “We’re fighting these animals Seok, and I’m 99.8% sure that you’d get your ass kicked,” You snickered. 

      Hoseok dramatically gasped. “Do YOU wanna fight Y/n?” He asked, leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate you. You leaned forward in response, only stopping when your forehead touched his. You squinted your eyes, unable to keep the smiles or laughs away. “Are we about to kiss right now, bro?” You whispered, bursting out in laughter, falling back onto the grass. 

     “Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Hoseok said between laughs. “But you love me~” You teased after you calmed down. “Yeah I guess,” Hoseok snorted, coming to lay closer to you. You and Hoseok sat there in silence for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the crickets while the two of you looked up at the stars. “Do you remember the constellation we made up together?” You asked, still looking up at the sky. 

      Hoseok hummed, “How could I forget? The night we made it was the night you convinced me to step into that forest. I stand by my point that the squirrel looked a lot bigger from where I was and totally warranted that scream,” He chuckled. “Why is that the memory you always bring up? I confessed my feelings for you that day, you know!” 

      It was a warm night, not a cloud in sight as the moon shown brightly on the terrified expression Hoseok gave you. “You want me to go into the forest? Are you crazy?” He whisper-yelled, like the trees were suddenly snooping in on our conversation. “You lost the bet,” You shrugged, pushing his tall, stiff body towards the tree line. 

      “You cheated in that go fish round!” He accused, still not acknowledging the fact that go-fish is luck based. You rolled your eyes, not stopping your attempts to get the man into the forest. “It’s just, like, 10 seconds standing in the treeline, I’ll watch you to make sure your safe the whole time!” You grinned. Hoseok sighed, defeated, taking a walk of shame towards the looming forest. 

      “Jung Hoseok! Loser of go-fish! What do you have to say for yourself!” You called to him, staying away from the tress because fuck that. You’ve heard the stories. “I’m scared! Tell my mother I love her! Leave the 5$ you owe me on my grave!” He called back, laughing at his own joke. 

       You were laughing along too before an ear-piercing screech rang through the air. Looking up, you saw Hoseok running away from the forest and grabbing your shoulders to hide behind you. “The fuck?” You asked, squinting your eyes to see if there was a bear or something. “That squirrel is possessed!” Hoseok shivered, and there was, in fact, a squirrel in the treeline. Problem was, it looked like a perfectly normal squirrel. 

     “Uhh, that’s just a normal squirrel Seok,” You said, turning to look at the man behind you. “No! It was huge!” He sounded like a conspiracy theorist and it was making you laugh. “Aish, I’m in love with an idiot,” You mumbled to yourself, not quite realizing what you were saying. “W-What did you say?” Hoseok asked, standing back up straight.

      Your eyes widened as you stumbled over your words. “I uh- what? Nothing. I said nothing. Speaking? Me? Impossible. I don’t even know Kore-” You were cut off when Hoseok leaned down and connected his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

       His lips were soft and warm, and you felt your heart stutter at the sensation of having him so close. Hoseok was like a saccharine elixir that you couldn’t get enough of. His warmth, his breath fanning against your face, the slight smile he had when he kissed you. It was all knee wobbling sensations that left you stunned once he pulled away. 

“And I’m in love with you,” Hoseok said with a smile, going back in for another kiss.

“The trauma I got from that squirrel will forever be stuck in the front of my mind,” Hoseok dramatically sighed. “Yeah, sure, anyway, you can see it more clearly now, the J and the K,” You said, pointing up into the night sky. 

      On that same nightly tryst, when the two of you were snuggling under the stars for the first time, the two of you ran out of constellations to identify, so you decided to make your own. A J and a K stuck together for “Jung” and “Kim” It wasn’t super visible, but on nights like these you could see it clearly if you knew what to look for. “Oh your right, there it is,” Hoseok said, and you could hear the happiness in his voice.

“Jung and Kim,” You said aloud.

“Kim and Jung,” Hoseok answered back.

      The two of you went back to silence, laying down in the grass, just enjoying each other's presence. Hoseok felt so warm next to you, like a dull fire. You could hear his rhythmic breathing through the noise of the crickets and you closed your eyes. Focusing solely on him. You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You felt his soft lips kiss the top of your head as he let out a content sigh. 

      “I wish these nights would never end,” Hoseok said, bringing you in closer. “Me too,” You whispered, breathing in his floral cologne. “I wake up and look forward to nightfall,” You chuckled, intertwining your hand with the one Hoseok had resting on his stomach. “I love you, sunshine,” Hoseok whispered to you after a beat of silence. “I love you too, Seok,”

      Sneaking back into your house was never really hard. Namjoon was a heavy sleeper and the window to your room was a silent doorway in and out. You were glad for living in a one-story house because it made this task so much easier. After you said goodbye to Hoseok with a long, drawn out hug full of unspoken words, you walked back to your house, ready for a good nights sleep.

      Climbing back through your window, you let out a scream as you turned on the light to see your brother sitting there, wide awake, in your desk chair. “J-Joonie?” You asked, feeling your heart drop. “Where have you been?” He growled out, a pissed expression on his face. You didn’t answer, you were too scared to answer. 

      “So you’ve been sneaking out? Do you know how dangerous that is Y/n? Who are you meeting up with?” He asked, voice riddled with anger and frustration. “Nobody...” You mumbled, looking down at the wood flooring. “Nobody, huh? Then what’s this? It’s not yours. Certainly not mine,” Namjoon said, holding up one of Hoseok’s sweatshirts that he gave you. You gulped, heart pounding in your ears. 

      “How do you know that I didn’t just buy a sweatshirt without you knowing?” You defended, not willing to crack under your brother’s intense pressure. “Because JHS is written on the tag, and it’s not in your handwriting,” He retorted, showing that, in fact, JHS is written on the tag inside the sweatshirt. You stayed quiet. 

      “You’ve been sneaking out to see him, haven’t you?” Namjoon asked, his tone getting increasingly colder. Again, you stayed quiet. “Haven’t you?!” Namjoon raised his voice, standing up from the chair. “And what if I have?!” You yelled back, brimming with anger and embarrassment. “I told you to stay away from him!” Namjoon growled, his deep voice reverberating off the thin wall of the house. 

      You blinked back the tears that stung in the corner of your eyes. “Without a valid reason! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” You argued, reaching to grab the sweatshirt away from your brother, but he was faster and held it above his head, out of your reach. “Hasn’t done anything wrong? He’s a backstabbing prick!” 

“Who apologized!” You pointed out, continuing to reach for the sweatshirt you’d grown so very attached to. 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it!”

      “You’re twenty-fucking-five Namjoon, grow up and leave me out of your personal issues!” You yelled, successfully grabbing the sweatshirt from him and holding it to your chest protectively. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to protect you?” Namjoon asked. “This isn’t protecting, this is sheltering. I’m an adult Namjoon! I can make my own decisions.” You stressed, taking a seat on your bed. The two of you finally calming down. 

      Namjoon didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign to continue. “Hoseok told me everything, I think the two of you should talk,” You suggested, but Namjoon shook his head, “No, there’s nothing to talk about,” You sighed, “He said sorry Namjoon, multiple times,” You said, and you saw Namjoon’s face soften a bit, “Maybe you’ve forgiven him, but your afraid he won’t forgive you for how coldly you’ve treated him.”

      There was nothing but silence and a somber-looking Namjoon. “Admit it Joon,” You said. “Okay, fine. I have forgiven him, a long time ago, and you’re right... I am scared that he won’t forgive my actions. I was horrible to him after the incident Y/n...” Namjoon admitted, taking a seat on the bed next to you. “And when I found out you were sneaking out to see him, I was scared that he’d tell you and you’d see me differently... I’m sorry...” He said, a genuine look in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t say a bad thing about you, Namjoon,” You sighed.

“He doesn’t?”

“No, it honestly just sounds like he misses you as a friend,” 

“...I should talk to him...”

“Come with me tomorrow night, so the two of you can talk, okay?”

       Namjoon and you sat on the top of the hill, waiting for Hoseok to arrive. It was one of the colder nights, so you were wrapped up in Hoseok’s sweatshirt and a scaff. Namjoon, being the weirdo he was, decided that the cold never bothered him and wore a simple t-shirt, jean combo. 

      “Are you sure about this Y/n? Isn’t this your alone time with him?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows wrinkled in worry. “It was, but once the two of you talk, we won’t have to sneak around at night anymore, we can sneak during the day too” You chuckled, lightly shaking Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” You reassured him. 

      A couple minute later, you heard the footsteps of another person approaching. “Sunshine!” You heard the cheery voice of Hoseok call out for you. Quickly you got up and ran to him, jumping onto him in a (very aggressive but very loving) hug. “Seok!” You cheered, earning a chuckled from the man. 

     Hoseok gently placed you down, looking at you with his brown eyes full of love and admiration. He cupped your face with both of his hands and leant his forehead against yours. “Are we about to kiss right now?” You giggled, giving him an eskimo kiss. “Yeah,” He chuckled, leaning in to give you a quick, chaste kiss, wrapping his arms around you to hug you once more. 

     You suddenly remembered that you brought a certain car mechanic with you and you awkwardly cleared your throat. “What’s up?” Hoseok asked you, pulling away to look down at your nervous form. Pointing your thumb over your shoulder you murmured out “I brought someone who wants to talk to you.” 

      Hoseok finally looked behind you, and even in the moonlight you could see his face slightly pale. “Hey...” Namjoon waved awkwardly, standing up a couple feet away from us. “Hey,” Hoseok replied, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him in an unconscious act of love. Namjoon looked down at the gesture and softened. 

     “I, um- I think we have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon said as Hoseok nodded. “I think we do,” The air between them was so uncomfortable that even the crickets stopped making noise. It was just deadly silent before Namjoon spoke up first. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” He cringed.

“It’s okay. I’m still sorry for what happened in highschool,”

“That was 7 years ago Hoseok... I forgave you a long time ago,”

“You did? Then were even,”

     Namjoon’s head shot up from where he was looking at the grass, kicking a rock around with his foot. “What?” He asked, sounding surprised. “I forgive you. You forgive me, were even,” Hoseok stated firmly, patting my back as he let me go to walk up to Namjoon. “Truce?” Hoseok chuckled, holding out his hand. “Truce,” Namjoon laughed along, flashing Hoseok a dimpled smile. 

This was the better ending to Romeo and Juliet. You thought, smiling to yourself. 

     “Oh my god, Y/n, you look fine,” Namjoon chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know Joonie, what if Seok doesn’t like it?” You whined, turning around in the mirror to get another look at the sundress you were wearing. “Seok thinks you look pretty in everything,” Namjoon said, “Seriously, he’s whipped for you,” 

      You smirked, “Yeah his is,” You giggled. “Alright, no more stalling, date time!” You stated, a determined look on your face. But when the doorbell rang, your confidence vanished, and you froze. Namjoon sighed, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you towards the door, opening it and placing you in front of a very smiley Hoseok. 

     “Hey gorgeous,” Hoseok winked, and you had to hold the door for support so your knees didn’t give out. “hEy,” You squeaked out. This was your first official date with Hoseok, out in daylight, with Namjoon knowing. Needless to say, it was a big deal for the both of you. Hoseok was handling it better than you, no doubt. 

      Hoseok chuckled, holding out his hand for you. “Are you ready to go? Not trusting your words, you just nodded, putting your hands in his. “I’ll see you guys later,” Namjoon smiled, waving to you goodbye as you and Hoseok giggled like lovesick idiots. 

Probably because you were. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 24

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 2824

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘voice kink’ square for @spnkinkbingo.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

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He’s pissed and overly grumpy. It’s too fucking early to be dealing with bullshit. But he’s also grumpy because he had to see Y/N off.

Walking around the corner, Cas’ notices him and nods. 

“Again?” Dean asks, sees them washing down the red paint. It looks bloody and it smells awful. It almost made him nauseous.

“Yeah,” Cas sighs, “It’s nothing I couldn’t deal with, so I didn’t feel the need to call you.”

“That’s okay,” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, watches the paint come off the walls before he turns to Cas, “Security footage?”

“We got it,” Cas says, but he doesn’t look happy about it so Dean already knows that it’s probably not even worth mentioning, “The guy wore a Vendetta mask and was dressed in black.”

“Great,” Dean breathes out, his hand goes up to rub at his forehead. There’s a puddle of paint running down the pavement towards him, and he takes a step to the side.

It’s moments like these that Dean wants to give up completely. That he wants to just sell the whole fucking thing and go do something else, being a fucking accountant for the firm Sam’s working in or just something that’s less stressful. Somewhere where he has to deal with less hate, maybe. Less jealousy. 

He places a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “You go home and get some shut eye. I’ll see you for the briefing later,” 

“‘K,” Cas answers and turns to walk away. Looking back, he calls out to Dean, “Balth is waiting in your office!”

Dean groans and rolls his eyes at that.

Apparently, he can’t catch a fucking break around here.

*

Dean walks into his office and sees Balthazar sitting on the couch. The man’s busy working on his laptop. A scent of coffee lingers in the air. He must have brought a cup with him because Dean doesn’t have a coffee machine in his office. What he has, though, is a fucking bar and he wonders if it would be too soon to pour himself a couple of fingers? It’s probably five o’clock somewhere , right? 

Even though his mouth waters at the thought of the burning liquid filling his throat and clouding his head, Dean abandons the thought quite quickly. She doesn’t like him to drink. It has a lot to do with how she grew up and Dean respects that, has toned it down since Y/N came back into his life, and he wants to keep that up.

“Balth,” Dean greets the man and walks over to his desk, sits down with a loud grunt, “What can I do for you?”

“How’s your hand?”

“Good.” Dean nods and holds it up, takes a look at it himself.

It’s bandaged. Y/N was telling him that he should let her do it or she’ll get angry at him. He smirks at the memory. He would have loved to say that she could get mad all she wants, because he likes how cute she looks when she’s mad, but he thinks that would have been a bad move on his part, so he just held still while she sat on his lap and bandaged his hand. The lap sitting was a deal he negotiated because he said that he wouldn’t let her if she wouldn’t sit on his lap. She rolled her eyes but sat down and it’s crazy how his lap was made for her to sit on.

Balthazar clears his throat before he closes his laptop, and Dean is catapulted back to reality. Back to an annoying work day. He thinks maybe he should take a break, ask her if she’s game to go on a road trip. Just the two of them, driving where the road takes them with no clear destination. Dean doesn’t think he needs one with her.

“I’ve stayed with Cole after you left.” Balthazar says while he places his laptop back into its bag.

“And?” Dean frowns.

“He won’t press charges,”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, because we have the upper hand.”

It’s no surprise. Dean knew that he wouldn’t. If he would, he’d see his ass in jail and Dean doubts that Cole would survive a day in there. All Dean wanted was to make a statement and he thinks that he was pretty clear about what the statement entailed.

“Still, you should be more careful with breaking bones.” Balthazar gets up from the couch and walks over to the chair across from Dean. He doesn’t sit down, though, only braces his hands on it, leaning in a little.

“He was touching what’s fucking mine, Balth. What do you want me to do?” Dean shouts out and immediately regrets his outburst because it hurt his own ears. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s too fucking early. 

When Dean calms down a little, he asks, “So, you had your eyes on him? He wasn’t anywhere near the club?”

“Nope, I drove him to the ER and he underwent surgery to correct his fucking jaw that you broke. He’ll stay there for the next two days, at least.”

“Good,” Dean nods. It’s not exactly good when it comes to the club, though, because Cole’s out of the picture, “Can you get more people on board? I want someone watching the club after closing. It’s a tiny window of time, three, maybe four hours.”

Balthazar nods, “I can do that.”

*

After Balthazar left, Dean decided to start up his computer since he hasn’t checked his emails for a couple of days now. He deliberately doesn’t have his work emails on his phone. It’s his private property and he made it clear from the beginning that he’s separating work and private life.

Dean clicks through the emails. There are some new member sign ups that he needs to go through. Some harmless threats which he usually bins right away. But then there are some mails that are more worrying as well.

He clicks on the first one with the title I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT . The email opens up to pictures of the altercation in front of Y/N’s office building. Dean can see that it was shot from across the street. Maybe from a parked car. He immediately forwards the pictures to Balthazar. 

There are more emails. Without pictures though, just words. Hurtful ones. 

  I WILL TAKE YOU AND YOUR CLUB DOWN

  YOU ARE A FUCKING DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING

  SHAME ON YOU

  YOUR CLUB WILL BE CLOSED. MARK MY WORDS

  It’s really nothing new. He gets those threats quite a lot and he always makes sure to block the sender but they keep making new email accounts and so he’ll keep deleting and blocking them. Dean can’t win in this, but neither can they, so at least there’s that.

*

Later in the day, while Dean’s briefing his employees, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, thinks it’s Balthazar calling him about new developments. The man had called earlier already, only to suggest for Dean to get a fucking bodyguard but Dean really doesn’t know about that. He just thinks it’s a waste of money. Only when Balth mentioned that Y/N’s safety might be in danger too, does Dean at least agree to consider it.

Dean stops his speech to look at the caller ID, has to suppress his smirk while he holds up his index finger, “I gotta take this one, Cas?” 

“Yeah,” The other man jumps in, grins himself because he knows, and Dean actually wants to wipe that smile from Cas’ face but he gotta hurry if he wants to take it before she hangs up on him.

Dean turns around, picks it up, smiles like an idiot because apparently, he lost the ability to control his fucking face, “Hey,” Dean walks up the stairs and disappears into the VIP room for some privacy.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting? You must be busy.” 

It sounds like she’s pouting, Dean bites back a chuckle, “No, it’s okay, you never interrupt. How’s the workshop going?”

He tries to sound cheerful, doesn’t want to tell her about the things that happened yet. There’s no need for her to worry, really. 

“Ugh, boring,” Y/N sighs, and adds, “I have a short break before I have to go for the mandatory dinner.”

Dean flips his wrist, sees that it’s past 5pm. He grins, “You wanna spice things up at the dinner?”

“Dean,”

“What?” He chuckles.

“Well,” Her voice is almost whiny as she considers his words, “Yeah?”

“That’s my girl,” Dean smiles, “Jesus, I’m getting all excited myself.”

Cas appears in the room and Dean nods at him, “Baby, I gotta go, I need to finish something here,”

“Okay,” It sounds like she’s pouting and god, Dean feels bad for making her feel like he doesn’t have time for her or that he doesn’t care when all he’s doing is to make fucking time. But he guesses she’ll understand once they see each other. 

“Wear it and let me know when you’re going to dinner, alright?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Miss you.” 

Dean sighs, closes his eyes briefly, his heart flutters at those words. He smiles at the feeling, “I miss you, too.”

Y/N runs up to her room right after dinner, keys in her hand and leans back against the closed door as soon as she’s inside. She’s dripping wet from that vibe but she didn’t come yet. She doesn’t know how Dean does it but he always managed to stop when she’s about to come, making her whine out audibly once, and when Charlie, her friend from college who sat next to her asked what was wrong, she just said that she liked the food very much. 

God, it was so embarrassing!

She thinks about calling him but he’s probably busy working as it’s already past 10pm and the club is at its peak right about now. 

Taking off her shoes, she walks to the bathroom to clean her face and she brushes her teeth,  walking out into the bedroom shortly after. She quickly gets out of her dress and slips out of her panties that are completely soaked. 

The device is still inside of her and clear enough, it starts to buzz again, making her shriek out. She swears if he won’t let her come again—

—her phone rings.

Letting herself fall onto the bed, still in only her bra and nothing else — except for the vibrator in her pussy — she grabs at her clutch that she left there before she walked to the bathroom. 

  Dean.

  The vibrator still buzzes lightly inside of her and she picks up, has to gnaw on her bottom lip to suppress the moan.

“You are the worst!” It blurts out of her as soon as she swipes her thumb across the screen.

“Wait, what?” He’s laughing loudly.

“Yeah,” She pouts and moves up the bed, rests her back against the headboard while she spreads her legs and enjoys the buzzing between her thighs, “You turn me on and then you stop, and I was so close to coming.”

“Awe, poor baby,” Dean says in his mumbling voice and it sounds so fucking sexy, “Are you still turned on?”

“Yeah,” She mutters under her breath, “Please, you have to let me come.” 

“I don’t know,” He chuckles, “Have you been good, Y/N?”

Oh my god , he’s pulling that card, isn’t he? 

“I have. Please?” She nods and whines, teeth sinking into her bottom lip when she feels the buzzing getting stronger, moaning out shamelessly. 

“Christ, you sound so fucking sexy,” 

She can hear him growl on the other end. 

“No, you do,” There’s another increase of vibration and god, it makes her arch her back, as a shrieking sound rolls off her tongue. 

“I do? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m getting hard just hearing you moan.”

“It— ah— it’s your v—voice, Dean.”

“My voice? What’s with my voice, baby?” 

And it’s like he’s taunting her because it rolls deep, smooth like fucking honey and it feels like he’s wrapping her up in the warm sound. He increases the vibrations, and she didn’t know it could go further up but it does. One of her hands goes to her tit, kneads at it while she has a tight grip around her phone with the other. 

“Ah— it’s.. Fuck— it’s so deep and gravelly and oh god— it’s sexy,” 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Bet you’re so wet, ain’tcha, baby? You always are so wet for me. It’s the fucking best thing. Especially when you gush and come around my cock, Jesus—”

His breathing is ragged, he’s turned on too. 

Good , she thinks. At least she’s not the only one. 

“My panties were soaked. I took them off and now I’m on my bed in only my bra,” She manages to say, tongue darts out to wet her lips, “Wish you were here.” 

“I wish I was there too. Wish I could kiss you. I’d be right between your thighs right now, eating you out like you’re the sweetest thing, because you fucking are,” It comes out a little strained, “Does me telling you these thing turn you on, huh?”

“Yeah,” She chokes out a moan, “You could read me the goddamn phone book and it would turn me on, Dean.”

“Christ, I’m just imagining you right now, all spread out and wet,” There’s a low growl before he speaks again, “Can you do me a favor, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” His voice is more stern. Doesn’t make it less sexy, though.

“Yes,” 

“Good girl,” 

God the praise . Y/N has to press her thighs together, already so fucking close. 

Dean goes on, “Take off your bra for me, baby. Take your thumb and forefinger, give them a firm tug for me, bet your nipples are sensitive, huh? I wanna hear you.”

She sits up to unclasp her bra before she throws it carelessly into the room. Leaning back again, her right hand goes to her left nipple, tugs hard and moans out in pained pleasure. 

“Good girl,” He coos, “Such a fucking good girl,” 

The vibration increases again and she thinks that’s the maximum it can go. Hopes it is, because she’s right there, dancing dangerously on the edge.

“Dean, please, I’m—”

“—I got you, baby,” He breathes out a soft chuckle, “Come, you can come, now. Come for me, okay? I wanna hear you come for me.” His whispering low, and the words paired with his voice, plus the added buzzing in her cunt was enough to tip her over.

Oh god. His voice is really out of his world. She comes with a squeal. His name rolls off her tongue as she squeezes her eyes shut and her legs start to tremble. Her hips buck up and she doubles over and has to roll herself into a fetal position on the bed.

There’s a ringing in her ear from the orgasm and she feels the vibration getting softer until it’s completely gone. Dean’s voice is faint in her ear through the phone.

Good girl. My fucking good girl.

She swallows hard, her eyes are still closed. When Y/N comes back to her senses, she starts to giggle and then she hears it. The knock at her door. 

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks as she sits up straight, startled from the knocking.

“Oh my god, someone just knocked at my door.” She says, her heart’s still pounding fast.

“Go on, open it.” 

“No, who would knock at this time of night? I’m sure they just have the wrong room.” She doesn’t know if she’s trying to talk to him or talk herself out of her anxiety of the realization that someone came knocking at her door late at night.

“Maybe it’s room service?” 

“Dean, I just came from dinner, I didn’t order anything!”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t think it would be this hard!” Dean growls and she might be hearing things because she hears the deep growl outside of her door? He sighs then, “Baby, I really think you should open up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t... Dean, no.” She scrambles off the bed, and somehow she doesn’t even care if she’s fucking naked. 

“Dean, yes!” He chuckles lightly, “Come on, I’m standing in the hallway with a visible boner and I think if someone sees it, they’ll call the cops.”

She hangs up and drops the phone onto the bed as she makes her way to the door, opens it up wide to see Dean smiling at her.

Chapter 25

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[domesticblisss]

On the Second Floor

Jay White x Female Reader Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 1495 Warnings: Smut. Alcohol mention, PiV, oral (male receiving), mild degradation (a little name calling), (very, very) slight dom/sub undertones, public sex. Summary: Jay White takes an instant liking to the reader. A/N: First time writing anyone outside Timperium, hope it’s good. Also, I’m sorry in advance lmao.

You would think that after three months of moving to and living in Tokyo I would have gotten to know its nightlife and truth is, I haven’t. And it is not because I don’t want but I have been so tired that my friday nights consists of drinking plum wine while eating a TV dinner and falling asleep before 10pm. 

I have decided to change that this week and as of right now, I am dressed in the tightest and shortest dress I could find in my closet on my way to a club I can’t even remember the name of, but I trust Aika’s and Chie’s choices. 

Aika, Chie and I met on the magazine we work for, they were the first people to approach me, and we hit off instantly. 

“Can’t believe we finally got you to leave the house!” Aika exclaimed excitedly. 

“Well, I had to eventually. Can’t be living in such a beautiful country and just stay locked inside forever.”

“Trust me, you’re going to love this place.” Chie added, with a mysterious tone in her voice. 

There was a line to get inside when we arrived, with at least 20 people ahead of us. After a 10-minute wait, a black SUV stops right by our side, and five men come out from it. Tall, big, scary looking, handsome men. 

One of them stands out to me. He is the last one to get out of the car, tall, muscular, long black hair in a half bun and a beard. The beard is... a choice, but it makes him look very hot. 

He is not one bit sly when he looks at me, makes sure to stop right in front of me, looks me up and down and gives me the smallest smile, one that if I wasn’t paying enough attention, I would have missed it. 

He and his entourage make their way to the entrance of the club, he fist-bumps the bouncer and gets in without any trouble. 

Not three minutes later, the hostess comes up to us, asking to follow her and takes us inside. She sits us in a booth and says “Welcome, girls! All your orders are already paid for the night, feel free to ask for whatever you desire. Mr. White sends his regards.” she winks at me and leaves. 

“Mr. White?” I ask Aika and Chie, both of them with surprised looks on their faces. 

“Jay White? The leader of Bullet Cl–“ Aika is interrupted. 

“The rat looking dude that was eye fucking you outside.”

“Chie!”

“What? He was eye fucking her.”

“You know that is not what I meant.” Aika reprimanded her. “Anyway, do you know how lucky you are??? He comes here every single week, stays on the VIP lounge right there” she slyly points to a glass box room on the upper floor, directly in front of us, with a privileged view to our booth, “he never talks to anyone, he never leaves his booth. He comes here and stays there while his friends have their fun. Do you have any idea how many women has tried their way with him, and he doesn’t give a slight nod? Do you know how many women would kill to be where you are?” Aika looked at me excitedly. 

“Lucky me I guess.”

Chie was about to start talking again when a waitress arrived with a bottle of Dom Perignon. 

“A gift from Mr. White.” the bubbly waiters said as she set the bottle of champagne down and handed me a card. 

I thanked her and opened the card. 

“C’mon, what does it say?” Chie asked. 

“Meet me at the lounge in 10. They’ll let you in. -J”

“You’re going.” It was Aika’s turn now. 

“I guess?”

“No, I’m not asking, I’m telling you, you are going.”

“Fine! I am.” I finished my glass of champagne and went to the bathroom to retouch my make-up. 

Those few minutes I spent alone were enough to make my head go into overdrive. From the little I have heard from this guy, he seems to be on the verge of a breakdown. All I have ever heard was that he is rough, violent, and vicious, and apparently that was enough for my brain to stop working and for the rest of my body to act on its own will. 

It happened just like he said it would happen. I got the door of his lounge and the security guards let me in without questions. 

“Princess! You actually came!” he said, coming to greet me and took my hands in his. “I’m Jay and these are my friends, Gedo, Kenta, Tama and Chase.” they either nodded or waved at me. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Well, introductions are over, and they are going to give us some privacy. Go on, lads.” he waited for the four of them to leave to keep going. “I gave you my name, but you never told me yours, princess.”

“Amy.” I lied. 

“Something tells me this is not your real name.”

“Well, it’s the one you’re getting.” I smiled sweetly at him. 

“Feisty! I like that!”

“What do you want from me, Mr. White?”

“Mr. White... you really know how to get a man to his knees, don’t you princess?” he said, his face so close to mine, his grey eyes boring into mine and a smirk on his slips, all while he gently caressed my hair. “I brought you here because I want you. I need to have you.” he whispered the last part in my ear. 

“And why should I do this?”

“Because I’m the champion, princess! Because I always get what I want.”

“I need something else.” I teased him. 

“Well, it really looks like you need get some and I am going to ruin you for every other man and woman that comes into your life.”

My body betrayed me, and I kissed him. A hard, teeth clashing, lip biting kiss. Jay is rough, heavy handed and loses no time in taking my dress off. 

“You’re perfect, aren’t you princess?” he said, taking his pants and underwear off in one swift move and sat down on the leather couch in the middle of the room. His length was already semi hard, precum leaking from it. 

“Beg, princess.” 

“Could I please suck your cock, Mr. White?”

“I need something better, princess.”

“Please, let me suck your cock, Mr. White. I need it.” I made sure to use my best pouty lips begging face. 

“There you go, princess. Go on. It’s all yours.”

His cock was big, long with an average girth. I licked a stripe from his balls to the tip, gathering saliva and spitting on it before swallowing what I could from him, my hands working on what I could take in. He took his hands to my hair, holding it into a ponytail and started moving his hips, surprisingly slow, making sure I wouldn’t gag. He pulled me off when he started to feel his orgasm coming, a long drool line still connecting us, to which he made the show of collecting and rubbing on my lips and left cheek. 

“You really are perfect, aren’t you, princess? I can’t finish this without you getting what you deserve. Get up!” he took my hand and guided me to the glass wall that secured his booth from the rest of the club. 

He pressed me against it, making a show of pulling my bra down and slowing getting his right hand inside of my panties. 

“Oh, you like being watched, don’t you?” I nodded. “Look, look how wet you are. My princess is a dirty little slut, isn’t she?”

I could only nod, moaning because of how his nimble fingers were touching my clit. He shoved my panties aside and slowly inserted himself, lifting my right leg so he could position himself better. He wasn’t as slow and soft as he was when he was face fucking me, his thrusts were deep, fast and rough, the fingers on my bundle of nerves following the same rhythm. 

“Jay, fuck. Please don’t stop.”

He turned me to him, snaking my legs around his waist. I held tight to his gold chain. 

“Jay, I’m–“

“I’m right there too princess, let go.”

3, 2, 1

My vision turned white, body trembling, all I could hear was his groans as he bit my shoulder and I felt both of mine and his arousal run down my legs. 

His maniacal laughter started, holding me tighter to him and helping me sit back down on the couch. 

“Do you want some water, princess?”

“Mhm.”

“You know,” he started as he made his way to the minibar “I actually liked it better when you called me Jay.”

“Okay, Jay.” I smiled at him, taking the water bottle from his hands. 

“So, next week, same place, same time?”

“Sure, of course.” I panted. 

Yeah, I was completely ruined.

[2seokfan]

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 1

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 3.6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary: 

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year?  So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a rollercoaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

note: Hi! This is my first fic ever! I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna read this but I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile so fuck it.

You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse on the couch.

“God my back hurts!” 

Honestly with the amount of random bodily aches you experience on a daily business you could pass for being 70 years old. But this time you knew where the pain stemmed from. You just had to fall asleep awkwardly after a night on your phone. And of course today was a work day and you slept past all THREE of your alarms. But you know that feeling when you sleep for a suspiciously long amount of time and something doesn’t feel right? That’s the sixth sense that saved your ass this morning because your internal body clock was like sweetie I think you’re late. 

You only had time to slap on some makeup, hoping it looked semi decent, and throw your greasy hair into a messy, but passable bun because no one wants to see an ugly receptionist. You had to skip your morning Starbucks drive-through routine because you’re about to be LATE, late so you grab your keys and start your car, booking it to work.

You work at a private hybrid clinic which pays a little better than most but that means you also have to deal with a lot of attitude from rich “owners” (you hate that word). And you sat weirdly at work today so that did nOThing to help your back pain. Also how come everybody decided to book an appointment today?? It’s Friday for god's sake why does everyone and their mothers decide it’s time to call the clinic and book a checkup. They get so mad at you when you say this whole month is filled. You can’t change the schedule though?? The calendar’s filled lady either get over it and settle for next month or fuck off (of course you don’t say that out loud cause you’ll get fired). Also someone yelled at you today because they didn’t like the magazine choices in the waiting room.

Anyways your day sucked and you couldn’t be happier being back in your tiny apartment to binge watch netflix stand-up comedies until you collapse. Well you say it’s your apartment but you actually have a roommate. She’s nothing like you though, she’s the epitome of responsibility. You agreed to live with her even though you met her through Craigslist because once you met her in person you deemed her genuine enough, and also found out she’s hardly ever at the apartment but she still pays rent on time?! You really hit the jackpot with her honestly. Cause you can be a little bit messy sometimes but even when she is home she never complains. The only negative side of having her as a roommate is that you never really had time to bond with her cause she’s so busy and over your league that even after a year you two still aren’t anything more than friendly acquaintances.

Alright time to get out of your work clothes and into nothing but your favorite oversized t-shirt with no pants on because that is what you deem home-appropriate attire. But before you turn on netflix your tummy is making “feed me” noises so it’s time to check the fridge. Damn no leftovers. Time to crack open one of those Trader Joe’s frozen meals you have stacked in the freezer. You blindly pick a box. Guess you’re having vegan tikka masala tonight. Not gonna lie though those frozen meals are actually not half bad. Or maybe you’ve been away from good home cooking for so long you’ve become desensitized? Who cares, you’re hungry. Also it’s Friday, so no harm in cracking open a bottle of wine right?

When you’re all settled on the couch with your favorite plush blanket on your legs, a random comedian on tv, and a full tummy, your mind drifts away. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have the weekends off. Maybe you should do something fun for yourself to make up for the crap you had to deal with today. You text your best friend Karli. You know she’s awake since it’s only 10pm.

You: Hey girl wanna go to the beach or smth tmrw?? <3

Karli: Yaaas ok I don’t work!! What time?

You: and we can walk around all the fancy stores and get coffee from that place we love.

You: hmmm how bout meet there @11??

Karli: Sounds good sweetie want me to pick you up?

You: no its ok ill meet u there i need to buy groceries after

Karli: Kk love ya see you then!!!

You: love ya! night bby

Karli knows that when you say “go to the beach” you really mean walk along the beach and the nearby stores because it’s early June and prime tourist season. That means the sand is packed with people and their kids and the water’s probably filled with pee so you’re not really down for that. Also the expensive shops near the beach are so cute and you love walking around window shopping, pretending like you can actually afford any of the items on display.

The wine is now getting to you cause before you know it you find your eyelids getting heavy. You muster up your last ounce of strength to turn off the tv and force yourself out of the couch cause your poor back doesn’t need another excuse to keep hurting. As much as you don’t want to wash your face and brush your teeth, you have to because you don’t want makeup on your pillowcase tonight. And when you finally crawl into bed you knock out instantly.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Oh fuck…”

You forgot that drunk you last night set an alarm today for 9am. Thank you drunk Y/N. 

Why 9am? Because you need to shower and get ready, plus the beach you’re going to is near the north part of the city, which is also the expensive part of the city, meaning it’s a LONG ways from where you live. But the stores are aesthetically pleasing and it contains both you and Karli’s favorite coffee shop so you’re willing to make the 25 minute drive. Karli doesn’t have to worry though because she lives a lot closer than you do. Girl has got her shit together. Honestly you’re just glad she decided to move back after graduate school cause the long distance friend thing sucks balls.

You hop in the shower and rinse yourself awake. The weather is perfect, warm but not too hot. Unlike many people who prefer to dress up for a nice outing, you’re just the opposite. You’ve been forced to dress in nice business attire with a full face of makeup all week. Hell no are you dressing up on your days off too. It’s a sweatpants and tank top kinda day so that’s exactly what you wear. Ever since college you’ve spoiled yourself into only wearing comfy clothes whenever you have the chance and it’s become a minor problem in your life. You have some perfectly nice jeans in the closet but you haven’t worn them in forever. And you’re not gonna wear them today either. And makeup? Who needs makeup? You’ll just go barefaced since you have no one to impress. Actually just kidding maybe a little concealer just to cover up a few rough spots but that’s IT. You’re still a little self conscious and you know you have to work on that but not today.

It’s now 10:15. You grab your purse from the couch, slip on your favorite pair of slides and head to your car. You’re the kind of person who absolutely needs music when you drive so you quickly start blasting your favorite playlist. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the beach area. Parking is hard to find on the weekend but your lucky ass managed to squeeze into a street parking spot right as someone pulls out. You lock your car and make the trek to Cozy Coffeehouse, your favorite coffee shop hands down.

Karli is already here and she’s hopping up and down, waving at you. She looks super cute today in her little black dress and fishnets. She’s had the same taste since high school and you’re glad that even a Master’s degree hasn’t stopped her from dressing all punk on her days off. You jog over and give her a quick hug.

“Hey girl look at you!! You’re so cute!” You take in her makeup and you swear if she didn’t go the corporate route she definitely should have been a makeup artist. Her eyeshadow is amazing and you’ll never ever have the blending talent that she has, nor could you ever get your eyeliner to look that sharp.

“Aw thanks! You look comfy though I’m kinda jealous now maybe I should’ve dressed down.” 

“No I love your outfits! Besides, someone has to look nice in this relationship.”

You link arms and march into the cafe. It’s located near the fancy designer stores on a large hill overlooking the beach. When you step inside the whole atmosphere screams ‘cozy’, fitting its name perfectly. The interior is littered with mismatched sofas and armchairs but it somehow still looks aesthetically pleasing. Soft piano jazz is playing through speakers and when you step inside the delicious scent of freshly ground coffee beans immediately invades your nostrils.

You glance at their pastry display first. Today must be your lucky day because they have tiramisu and you absolutely love tiramisu but it’s usually sold out. No way in hell are you letting this chance slide, fuck breakfast norms you’re definitely getting a bite of that. Unfortunately you’re not a fan of sugary treats on top of sugary drinks so to balance things out you choose to order their house brew.

After you two order, you find a spot in one of the plush armchairs near the window and sit. You really are lucky today since window seats are usually taken. But not this time! You guys get to enjoy the gorgeous scenery displayed before you. The sun is bright, people are laying on the beach tanning, and kids are splashing each other with water. For the first time in awhile, you feel content with life, if only for a bit. 

Before long your orders are called out and you stand up to retrieve them. Once you’re settled, you break into conversation with Karli, eager to catch up on everything that happened since you two last spoke face-to-face. You talk about work, Karli’s boyfriend Sunny, that new pizza place that opened up near your apartment that actually has really shitty pizza.

“Like seriously how do you fuck up pizza that badly?” you exclaim in between generous bites of tiramisu.

“No I get you,” Karli responds, slurping her iced mocha frappuchino, “everybody knows what pizza is supposed to taste like, I mean it’s gotta take talent to actually fuck it up to the level you’re describing girl.”

“Exactly!!” You wave your arms in the air, wanting to physically demonstrate your frustration at the situation and your passion for good pizza.

“Anyways…” Karli gently sets her drink down and takes on a more serious tone. “How are you though, honestly.”

“Hmm, me?” You swallow your last bite of tiramisu, “I’m doing good. Works ok, life’s ok. You know. Everything’s… ok.”

“I get that everything’s ‘ok’ but you know I want you to be more than ok. I want you to be happy”

You see the genuine concern in her eyes. Bless this girl for being so soft-hearted.

She continues, “And when was the last time you dated? Like, what, 2 years ago??”

Of course she has to mention dating. Karli has always been a romantic. You? Not so much. Your brain tended to err on the logical, practical side, which is not always a good idea since it keeps you away from many potential relationships.

“I date!” You scoff, but you’re not convincing anybody, least of all yourself.

“Oh really?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise, “Tinder one night stands don’t count babe. You know what I mean.”

“Well you didn’t specify…” You mumble, trying to come up with any excuse to defend your pride. You know she’s just being a good friend and that she’s asking because she cares about you, so you don’t let her questions irritate you.

“Sweetie I’m not trying to make you feel bad and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. It’s just… you mean a lot to me and you’re my bestie and I just want to see you be happy.” She takes your hand from across the table and looks you in the eyes. “We don’t get to see each other as much as we used to, so when I do I want to check in on how you’re doing.”

Then she averts her eyes, which you find highly suspicious. “Also I may or may not have found someone who I KNOW will be a perfect match for you.”

“AHA I KNEW you were leading up to something!”

“Wait but hear me out. He’s an accountant and at first I was like hmmm is he too boring for Y/N? But then I realized I was judging him by his job and that’s not cool so I talked to him and he’s, like, actually super cute and super sweet and I think you two will get along so well!” She’s speaking very fast at this point, trying to squeeze out as much information as possible before you can interject. Then she finishes with one of her signature Karli smiles, big and wide and all teeth and she knows you can’t say no to that face.

“Dammit. Fine.” You lost this round. “Alright if he wants to meet up I won’t say no. How bout that?”

“Gee that’s so thoughtful of you Y/N.” Her tone is sarcastic but she’s still smiling so you know she means no harm.

After another half hour of conversation, locked in a heated debate about food again (this time she’s defending her stance that pineapple belongs on pizza), Karli’s phone rings. The sound scares the poor girl half to death, and watching her jump a mile from her couch had you snorting into your coffee mid drink.

She looks at the caller ID, muttering under her breath, “It’s Saturday what do they want?” then glances up with a sad little pout, “Sorry Y/N it’s work gimme a sec…”

From what you can hear on her side of the conversation, something has come up and she has to head to the office right away. 

“Ok I’ll be there in fifteen,” she hangs up and gives an exaggerated “Ughhhhh”. She takes one large gulp, finishing the last of her ultra sweet, ultra whipped frappuccino. “It’s like they can’t do anything when I’m not there.” She looks especially apologetic when her eyes land back on you, “I’m so sorry I have to cut this short…”

“Hey it’s ok! Duty calls ya know,” you give her a reassuring grin, hoping it passes for a smile instead of a grimace. You were really hoping to hang out today.

“No it’s not ok. We didn’t even get to walk around today! And I know how much you like to do that.” She stands up, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “so next time I’ll plan a day where I guarantee I won’t get interrupted. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mk sounds good babe,” you give her a big hug, “Go get ‘em tiger!”

After she exits the cafe you finish the last bit of your coffee and glance out the window, staring at the people on the beach. Wow it’s really crowded down there today. You zone in on two kids attempting to build a sandcastle, but it’s too close to the water so the waves flatten it in two seconds. But it seems they didn’t learn their lesson because they keep rebuilding the castle in the same spot. Just move it further up little dudes.

You find yourself lost in thought again. Just because Karli’s suddenly busy doesn’t mean you don’t still have a whole day to yourself. You can walk around on your own. Also why not treat yourself to another drink? A fun one this time from their specials menu.

Ten minutes later you find yourself wandering around the various shops, hot hazelnut latte in hand, gazing at display after display of designer clothes and bags. Look, you may not be a huge fashion person, or have any expendable cash, but a girl can still appreciate art, especially when it’s laid out so nicely in front of you. 

Speaking of art, there’s an art gallery coming up that you absolutely love. You’ve always been too afraid to go inside because you’re the type of person who feels obligated to buy something if you enter a local store and you DEFinitely can’t afford anything there. So you opt to loiter outside, like some creep, looking a little too long at the featured art through the window. This time it’s an Impressionist style painting of a ship on hazy waters with a sunset in the background. You’re no artist but you can appreciate good quality work when you see it. The piece is mesmerizing and serene, transfixing you to the spot. Before you know it, you’ve been staring for 15 whole minutes.

While admiring the artist’s use of color on the display piece, you overhear a lady raising her voice not too far away, snapping you out of your trance. It sounds like drama, so being the nosy bitch that you are, you’re definitely gonna check it out, if only to satisfy your curiosity.

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ll be perfect for each other!! Where’s your owner I bet he’ll listen!” At this point the lady’s voice is sounding downright aggressive.

As you shuffle closer to the scene of the noise, you spot a middle-aged, blonde lady pointing her finger at two hybrid men, almost jabbing one of them in the chest with her sharp, ruby nails. Behind her stands a gorgeous female arctic fox hybrid who clearly belongs to her as she pats her owner’s shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“I’m sorry miss but we just aren’t interested.” The taller of the two hybrids with orange hair speaks up, gently pushing the lady’s hands away. “Please leave us alone.” He’s being surprisingly calm, even after getting yelled at in public.

“Yeah lady get out of our faces,” the other white and grey haired hybrid is definitely more agitated, crossing his arms as he huffs in annoyance. You don’t blame him since the blonde lady is being ridiculously rude.

You can’t really make out the two males’ faces, since they’re turned away from you, but they are obviously hybrids. Both having incredibly bushy, soft-looking tails and tall, pointy ears sticking out of their heads.

Even if you can’t see their expressions, you can tell they’re uncomfortable with the harassment. Since you’re still somewhat unaware of the context, you stay out of the argument but decide to keep an eye on the situation in case the lady steps out of line. You’re just slightly around the corner, able to stay a safe distance away so that no one, especially the lady, can catch you eavesdropping. Pretending to admire the Gucci purses displayed in front of the shop you’re now standing at, and almost choking at the price, you cautiously side-eye blondie as she refuses to back down from the hybrid boys.

“Listen here you rude little pets, I’m not leaving you alone until I see your owner. My Sylvia here,” she gestures to the fox hybrid behind her, “would make a perfect partner for you.” She pokes the orange haired hybrid again, “I’ve been searching so long for her to find a mate and I’m not giving you up! Now where the hell is your owner!”

What the fuck?! How dare this lady talk to them like that? And in public no less! You now know exactly why she’s yelling at them. Working at a private hybrid clinic has opened your eyes to the harsh world of hybrids, and their selfish, rich owners. It’s not uncommon for owners to negotiate with each other and breed their hybrids. If two pretty hybrids mate, their children can be sold for loads of money. It's cruel and disgusting, with many of the children sold off before they can even get to know their parents. You’re all too familiar with this tradition, often catching owners in the waiting room of your clinic discussing in whispers about buying and selling hybrid children as if they’re livestock.

“Hey what the fuck did you call us?!” The white and grey hybrid is now also raising his voice. “Listen you wrinkly bi…!” He is quickly silenced by the orange hybrid, who abruptly clamps his hand over his buddy’s mouth.

Orange hair clears his throat. “What he means is, we don’t appreciate the tone you’re using with us. Please leave us alone ma’am. We’ll be on our way. Goodbye.” They attempt to brush past her.

“Hey hold on a minute! I’m not done with you!!” This lady even has the balls to grab onto orange hair’s arm. “I demand to speak to your owner!” Then some sort of realization dawns upon her because her eyes go wide, then quickly narrow. “And where are your collars? Aren’t owned hybrids supposed to have collars on? You know I just might have to call Hybrid Services.” 

You can see the boys visibly tense at her words as she sports a satisfied smirk. Poor Sylvia is now gently tugging on her shirt. “Please calm down, miss…” she says desperately trying to remedy the situation.

Before you know it, and without any plan of action, you round the corner and march up to the boys, standing defensively in front of them.

“Um…” You gulp, then clear your throat, speaking in what you hope is a more confident tone. “Sorry I took so long guys! You wouldn’t believe the line at the coffee shop!”

Next

[thebuckysoldier]

Identical Mosters - chapter 8

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: The reader is new at the compound and doesn’t talk to anyone there. She befriends Bucky over a shared trauma all while trying to find her own place in the compound.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: lack of food, angry Steve

A/N: Freaking finally, i finally wrote an update? Is this really happening? I guess it is. So please enjoy, to make up for the very long wait i made this chapter a bit longer then usual.

Identical Monsters - masterpage

(GIF is not mine)

The mission the next day went by quickly, the intel had been the tiniest bit wrong but everyone improvised a little and made it work. Meaning, it didn’t go by flawlessly, but it definitely could have been worse. That being said, that is also how you ended up here, on the way back on the quinjet, getting yelled at by Steve with multiple people around the table.

“Y/N what you did was reckless and dangerous” Steve’s voice sounded loud, very annoyed and also a bit angry.

“Sam could have handled himself. You had your own assignment, which, granted, you already finished it but your assignment clearly said to go back to the quinjet when done.” He continued yelling at you.

Sam was on the other side of the quinjet, Bruce was with him to take care of his wounds. It didn’t look pretty, but he’ll survive, that’s what Bruce said. At most he’d be unable to join in on missions for the next 3 months.

When you were on your way back, doing exactly as Steve had told you to do, you ran into Sam. He was being cornered but multiple guys and it didn’t look good for him. You knew what your mission was, your instructions were strict and clear, straight back to the quinjet. But, Sam needed help. So you did the latter, the two of you fought and fought, and eventually Steve found the two of you when you were about to fight of a guy at least triple your size who was about to attack Sam from behind. Steve helped out but you already knew he wasn’t happy. You just wanted to do good, you wanted to help.

“We don’t trade lives around here, Y/n.” The way he had said it caused a shiver to run down your spine. That was also the moment Bucky lost it. He had been sitting behind you, not wanting to interfere. He didn’t know if you’d want him to or not. But he couldn’t handle it anymore, not with the way Steve had been screaming at you. You didn’t deserve to be screamed at like this, you’d done well. Bucky didn’t know how much worse Sam would have been  if you hadn’t been there, probably a lot worse.

Bucky stood up as quickly as he could, slamming his fist down on the surface of the table, shocking everyone around it. Bucky then proceeded to point at Steve with the same hand he had just hit the table with. Through gritted teeth out of anger he spoke to Steve in a low voice.

“Don’t yell at her like that, Steve.”

Bucky’s voice almost sounds threatening. Steve is taken aback, it was very clear to see. Turns out Bucky hadn’t talked to him after all. You were touched by Bucky’s action, thankful as well. Steve obviously cared a lot about what Bucky thought, I guess that’s what you get for being friends since childhood. It was as if Bucky’s words had woken him up, Steve shut up immediately.



Your hand touched Bucky’s forearm, the one that wasn’t made out of vibranium, telling him that you were okay, you were all right. Your action shocked him, the soft skin of your palm felt good against his skin. Your hands were cold compared to him, but that might have been because he felt like you had just set of fire inside of him. You had touched him, willingly. He then looked at your face, trying to find any emotion and what he found was gratefulness alongside a small smile. It was nice to see you smile.

Steve was shocked by the interaction unfolding right on the other side of the table. He hadn’t seen nor suspected the two of you to interact. Steve turned around, but not before saying a last few words.

“You’re off missions. You’re not ready.”

His words hit you like a truck. It hurt. This was exactly what you were afraid of. Steve had taken an insecurity of yours and played right into it.

The first thing your mind thought was that he was right. You had disobeyed orders. You knew your tasks and choose to ignore them. Sam would never need your help, he was very capable of taking care of himself. Why would he ever need someone like you, a monster, to help him?

You gave Bucky another grateful smile, but to him you looked more devastated then anything else. You turned away from him too, only to catch the eyes of Natasha, reminding you of the mistakes you had made. Ashamed you bowed your head and took a seat in the corner. You saw Bucky glance at Nat as well before giving you one last look and then sitting down on the other side of the quinjet. He understood you needed your space right now, you wanted to be alone.

When the quinjet landed everyone went to the debriefing. You got yelled at a little more in front of everybody by Steve but this time it was Tony who stopped him.



“You made your point Steve. She knows what went wrong, and she knows the consequences.”

After that no one really said anything to you. When the debriefing was over you went to your room and didn’t come out until much later that night. You had missed dinner but you weren’t hungry anyway. But when you entered the kitchen around 10pm it was empty except for Tony and Steve sitting at the table, their voices were already hushed but when they noticed you they stopped talking all together. You quickly grabbed a banana and a cup of water and left the room again. On your way back you stopped by Sam, he was still in the medical center but he was sleeping. He looked peaceful, and not in pain, so at least that was a good thing. You made eye contact with Bruce who was still taking care of some work at the center but you quickly made yourself scarce after.

You passed Bucky’s room as well, you could see the light was still on inside and you contemplated knocking on his door to talk about today but decided against it. He probably wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway, you got him in an argument with his best friend.

Once back in your room you put the banana and the cup down on your night stand and turned off the lights. Without taking a bite or a sip you laid down in bed, but time kept passing by and sleep never came.

Around midnight Bucky left his room, he wanted to make sure you were okay after today but after he saw that the lights in your room were turned off he choose to go back to his room. He could understand, today had probably cost you a lot of energy so you went to sleep early. But oh boy, how wrong he was.

It was around 4am and you were still staring out of the window, outside it was dark but you could still distinguish the trees around the compound from the night sky.

You must have fallen asleep at some point throughout the night as you were woken up around 8am by someone knocking on the door. Climbing out the bed and opening the door you find Sam on the other side. You awkwardly tell him good morning and he returns the favor.

“Sorry for coming by this early but I wanted to thank you for yesterday, Bruce just discharged me from medical” he said, taking you by surprise.

“Bruce told me as well, but only a fool is dumb enough not to know that I would have been off a lot worse if it wasn’t for you. I know Steve yelled at you, but don’t take it at heart, he doesn’t always know what he is talking about, I’m sure many of us would agree with me. The guy is one of my best friends, and he means well but he doesn’t always show it the best way. I think you did good on yesterday’s mission, keep training and you’ll get even better. Bruce also told me you stopped by yesterday evening, so thank you for helping me and checking in on me as well.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sam gave you another smile and then told you he was going to his own bed to catch some more sleep.

You closed to the door behind him and made your way to the shower since you hadn’t taken one last night. Once done you changed into some sportswear and put a nice sweater over it, it was the one you had worn the evening you and Bucky spent your time eating ice cream in the kitchen in stead of training like you usually did. Just as you were about to leave the room, another knock on your door caught you attention.

Opening the door again, it showed Steve this time. He cleared his throat before speaking up.

“Good morning” he greeted you.

“Good morning” you replied to him.

“Bucky helped me realize that I might have been a bit harsh on you yesterday, so I came to apologize to you. I realize that you were just trying to help, but your instructions were clear so I hope you understand why I made the decisions I made, because I haven’t changed my mind about them.”

You nod your head. “Okay, thank you Steve, for apologizing and letting me know.”

He gives you a nod back.

“We’ll look again in a few weeks to see if you’re ready”

“Okay,” is the only thing you reply.

“I- uh.” Steve clears his throat again before continuing, “I saw Bucky in the training room in case you were looking for him.” You give him a tight smile with another nod before he leaves for his own room without another word.

You close the door behind him and your gaze falls on the banana you had taken to your room last night. You really should eat something, not eating for this long is unhealthy. So you take the cup and drink its contents, then take the banana and leave your room. While eating the banana you make your way to the training room, where Steve said Bucky would be.

It wasn’t like you wanted to talk to Bucky, but you were in the need to speak to someone and you knew Bucky wouldn’t mind. So entering the gym he’s the only person you find, which is weird for this time of the day. A lot of the people living here enjoyed a early morning gym session, it was a great and healthy way to start the day. 

“Good morning,” you greeted him in a soft voice.

He looks up in surprise, you could understand why. He probably hadn’t expected to see you, since you missed dinner last night as well.

“Good morning” he said with a smile. “How did you sleep?” He then asked, watching your still tired state.

“I’ve had better nights.”

Bucky remembered your lights being off pretty early in the evening so at least you went to bed on time. Maybe the nightmares were just unbearable last night. Now he wished he had knocked on your door last night, maybe he could’ve eased your mind about the mission and you would’ve slept better.

“Did you eat?”

Another question.

You hummed while making your way to the yoga mats in the corner of the room. “I ate a banana.”

Bucky was over by the weights, watching you start to stretch. He had stopped actually lifting the weights once you came in, he was distracted. You looked tired and pale, he didn’t want to interfere but you didn’t look healthy.

“I don’t think you’ve eaten enough, you don’t look too good,” he said after contemplating if he should or not.

You let out a huff as you started to do some kind of fitness exercise.

“I’m fine, it’s just the lack of good sleep and the fact that I just woke up,” you defended yourself. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what you were doing, it was just a work out. You’d eat more after.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked one last time, continuing his own work out.

“Yeah” you answered him.

The two of you continued your workouts in silence. To Bucky you seemed to be lost in your own thoughts, he could only imagine what you were thinking about, probably yesterday’s mission. He made sure to keep an eye on your while doing his own work out, which turned out to be a good thing to do.

At one point while you were doing squats you just collapsed. Bucky didn’t know how fast to drop the weights still in his hands and run over to you. You didn’t respond to him when he called your name, your eyes were closed.

“FRIDAY, tell Tony and Bruce to come to the training room now. Say it’s an emergency and that it’s about Y/N” You couldn’t hear his voice but he sounded scared and desperate.

“I am letting them know right now, Mr. Barnes” FRIDAY replied to him.

His hand was on your cheek while his heart was pumping at a rapid pace. His mind went to all the wrong places, he knew it probably would just be the amount of sleep and food, or rather the lack of those but he couldn’t help but let his mind cloud up with ‘what if’s’.

You were still out when Bruce came running into the room, he was already dressed so he must have been up and at the lab already. As soon as he saw your state he took place next to you and checking your pulse, which was still there luckily.

As both Bucky and Bruce were bent over you, Tony arrived as well. Bucky noticed him first, he was still dressed in what seemed like pajamas, he was never really the one to wake up early. With Tony it was one or the other, he either didn’t sleep at all or slept in until like 2 in the afternoon.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony said walking over to you and letting Bruce know he had arrived as well.

“She just collapsed while doing a work out” Bucky replied to Tony.

“Any more information?” Tony asked.

“She looked pale and tired. Said she hadn’t slept well, and I know for a fact she hasn’t been sleeping well any other night. She also missed dinner last night and informed me the only thing she had eaten since probably before yesterday’s mission was a banana.”

Both Tony and Bruce nodded. That was also the moment you started to stir again. Groaning you opened your eyes only to find Bucky and Bruce hanging over you and Tony standing close and looking at you.

“Well, good morning kid, what the hell is going on?”

You blinked your eyes a couple of times before scooting away from them, creating some kind of distance between all of you. Resting your back against the wall behind you, you look at the three of them with big eyes, feeling a headache start to show up.

“Have you been eating enough lately, Y/N? You weren’t at dinner last night?” Bruce then asks.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I fell asleep so I missed it.” You told the lie so easily, you surprised yourself. You used to be so scared of lying, scared your uncle would find out and punish you.

“Buck said you said you also hadn’t slept well?”

“Yeah I woke up some time after dinner and I went to get a banana, I actually saw you then Tony, you were in the kitchen with Steve, and then went back to my room but I didn’t have the energy to actually eat, so I just went to bed instead. But for some reason I couldn’t fall asleep, I think I did somewhere around 5am. Then I woke up early this morning, because there were several people at my door and then I made my way to the gym and ate the banana.”

You told them a lot about your day, in details. Something inside of you said that you shouldn’t, but you had anyway.

“Do you often sleep bad?” Bruce continued to question you.

You didn’t really want to answer his question, because the answer was yes. You’ve had sleeping problems for as long as you could remember, often it were the nightmares, but other times you just seemed to be unable to fall asleep.

You touched your forehead with you hand, trying to ease the headache. You were feeling overwhelmed by the questions.

“How about you stop by at the lab after you’ve eaten some proper breakfast? Let Bucky help you if you’re up to it and then we’ll take a better look at you, is there any chance you could have gotten a more serious injure after yesterdays mission? Did anyone take a look at you?”

“No, I don’t think I have an injury. But I guess I’ll stop by. Thank you Bruce and Tony for coming, you really didn’t have to, I would’ve been fine.”

“It’s okay kid” Tony speaks up, “You still live here with all of us, we gotta make sure you’re okay. Now scary dude, help her get some proper breakfast, Bruce and I will see you after.”

Bruce and Tony leave the gym and Bucky speaks up.

“Well, you scared me there for a second,” Bucky said while leading you out of the training room and to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that would happen. I really didn’t feel that bad. I didn’t mean for that to happen, I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Bucky really wanted to comfort you, pull you into a hug and make sure you knew you were safe and that you shouldn’t feel sorry for such a thing. The way you had scurried away from him and the others hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was sure you didn’t want to be touched right now.

As soon as you entered the kitchen Bucky ordered you to sit down, so you did as he started to make you some breakfast. He made you some oatmeal, he probably had noticed you often had it for breakfast, you liked it. He added one spoon of sugar, just like you always did. And for a nice touch he added some red fruit he found in the fridge on top. Two strawberries and a few raspberries.

“Healthy and filling, here you go” he said as he sat the bowl in front of you and giving you a spoon.

You were grateful for him, that he would do something like this for you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” You told him with a smile more genuine than it probably has ever been.

Bucky could swear his heart had made a little jump when you said his name right then.

[Chapter 9] Coming soon

[imayjinmin]

When Darkness Meets  Chapter 2

EXO, BTS, NCT, MONSTA X x Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Playlist: Here

Synopsis: Finally returning to talk to EXO, she gets found out. BTS know of her, while EXO are cornering her. Having two options to either run or join, she realized if you want something bad enough, you have to make decisions you don’t necessarily want.

It was exhilarating. Having no clue if it was an adrenaline rush or the fact that I stole from EXO. I was happy, beyond that actually. Currently on my way home to the group house. Hearing my phone ring I reached for it accepting the request. 

“Hey Solar, what’s up?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“The last time I checked I wasn’t, but things could’ve changed. Why?”

“You stole from EXO, Y/n. You are going to have a hit on your back now, and I swear if you end up getting us involved.”

“Stop. The idiots didn’t even know I stole their keys. If they figure out then we should give them an award for not being complete dumbasses.” Solar sighed.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“I do, now I’m pulling up to the gate. I’ll talk to you when I get in.” Parking the car in the garage, stepping out Lisa came up to me. 

“Who’s exact car is this?”

“Xiumin’s.”

“Well at least you took it from him and not Chanyeol or Lay. You would’ve been dead on the spot.”

“You know I love your encouragement. Now let’s get inside Solar wants to talk.” Walking in to see Jennie and Solar standing at the bottom of the staircase. “Where is Jackson, Bambam, JB, Jinyoung, Amber, Henry, and Hwasa?”

“They’re all upstairs in the game room. Now, what exactly is the game plan with EXO?”

“I want them to give us some territory in the South.” Watching as their jaws dropped, I know it sounds ridiculous. “What? We all want some of that territory, don’t act coy.” Amber came walking down the stairs.

“You realize the only way we are going to get some of that territory is by joining them right? I know that you know we won’t ever be able to beat them.”

“I don’t know, Amber? She had them doing what she asked. She stole Suho’s gun and got Xiumin’s keys without them knowing. She even got Suho to make them lower their guns. Hell, she got Taeyong to back down along with Yuta. I’m not saying that she could beat them, but she may have some advantage against them.”

“Well you know what they say if you can’t beat them, join them.” Nodding in usion, until I got an idea.

“Uh oh I know that look. What’s going on in that demented mind of your’s?”

“Why don’t I go and return the car. While doing so I’ll join them, report everything back and then boom, territory is ours.”

“I don’t like the idea. If you cross them you’re dead. If you get involved with them, whether its romantic, sexual or partners you won’t be let go.”

“Why not?”

“Once they’ve had you they won’t let you go. You are basically owned by them.”

“I doubt that actually happens.”

“Okay fine, let’s say we go through with this, what happens to our group? Also if we do this, when?”

“The group will be fine, I’ll put Amber in charge. To answer your other question...tonight. I will have Jinyoung look up their location.” Walking up the stairs with everyone shortly following. Knocking on Jinyoung’s door, peaking my head inside. 

“Hey Mom. Can I ask you for a favor?”

“It depends on what the circumstances of the favor are?”

“I just need the location of where EXO is going to be tonight.”

“I guess that isn’t too much of a hassle. I will come find you when I have the answer.”

“Thanks Mom.”

***

“They are going to the Neon Night Club at 10pm sharp. Why do you want to know where they’re going anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Uh-huh sure. Well good luck.”

“Thanks.”

***

Later that night the girls helped me pick a dress that would get me some attention. After taking some time to finish doing my make-up and hair, they handed me a pair of shoes.

“Do you really think I will be able to walk in these?” Jennie chuckled.

“You’ll do fine, and if you do fall let them be your knights in shining armor.”

“Ha ha very funny. Now help me down to the car.” Walking down to the garage was a lot more stressful than it should have been. “I just have one question for you Jennie?”

“Shoot.”

“How the hell do you wear these all the time?”

“Well I want to feel good, and when I wear heels I feel confident.”

“I don’t understand where you’re coming from, but I’ll take your word on it.”

Getting into the car I took the shoes off. Placing them in the passenger seat, leaving after on my way to the club. Once arriving I sighed while grabbing the shoes. Putting them on once more. Showing my I.D to the bouncer, quickly walking to the bar. 

“What will it be?”

“Whiskey on the rocks.” Looking around still not seeing them. Grabbing my drink and downing it. Getting another refill, picking it up and walking around the club. Not being someone who particularly enjoys crowds, so staying in the shadows was my place. Getting to see basically everything while avoiding drunk dumbasses. Leaning against the wall taking a sip of my drink when everyone swarmed the entrance. Pushing myself off of the wall to see nine men come in with different colored suits. They looked severely out of place. Making my way through the crowd, stopping in front of a girl handing her my drink.

“Yeah, hold this for me real quick, thanks.” Without a second glance I proceeded toward the V.I.P section. Stopping as the bouncer put his hand out.

“Name and I.D.”

“Y/n Huang.” Handing him my I.D he checked through the list.

“I’m sorry but you’re not on the list, and I can’t let you in unless somebody can vouch for you.”

“I can vouch for her, she’s my date this evening.” Quickly turning to see Lay standing a few inches from me.

“Yes sir. Here you go.” Placing his hand on my lower back he pushed me. Walking past the bouncer, and into the sea of people. 

“You’re lucky I saved your ass.”

“Yeah, how so? I would’ve gotten in by myself.”

“Sure you would’ve. Now where is his car?”

“It’s in safe hands for now. If you piss me off then I don’t know.”

“You know...I admire you.”

Oh really? Enlighten me on why.”

“Well you’re a female that has some big time connections. You see I talked to a dear friend of mine. Park Jimin, I’m sure you recognize the name, and he informed me all about you and your little tribe. Amazing how you got some of the best out of the best people to join you, how’d you do it? Could it be your brothers? I’m the only one that knows that secret, but for how long depends on what you do.”

“If this is how you act all the time, then I’m surprised your not dead.”

“Well, I’m known as mentally insane. People don’t push my buttons, usually too afraid of the other one that comes out.”

“Oh so your telling me this is the mentally stable one?”

“Well I wouldn’t say all that, but yes.”

“Now how about instead of taking away my time with nonsense, you show me to the rest of EXO.”

“Oh boy will they be ecstatic to see you. Right this way.”

[stevemoffett]

A Hard Nap, The Fall of Math, The Star Wars Holiday Special, Disco Point, and There You Are

In January last year, I noticed a sign in myself of the same cancer my dad had back in 2008. Unlike the usual symptoms that set off my paranoia, it wasn’t some vague feeling, it wasn’t an intermittent pain, and it wasn’t a general ill feeling—it was clear and unambiguous, out of the ordinary and one of those symptoms that, if you google it, is under the list of “call your doctor if you experience any of the following.”

It was also nonspecific: this symptom could mean cancer, but it could also mean about five other cancer-unrelated conditions. I called for an appointment that morning with my general practitioner, who said that the earliest available date was about two weeks later.

I knew that the only way my fear would be effectively relieved was with the one sure-fire diagnostic tool for this type of cancer, one that’s recommended for everyone, but not until about age 50: a colonoscopy.

For the two weeks before my GP appointment, I mentally prepared for death. For the record, I do this every time I interpret my body’s signals as cancerous, but the mental preparation usually stops after a few days when the symptom either goes away or when a clear alternative cause presents itself. This time, I didn’t get that kind of relief and, in fact, the symptom repeated more than once between setting the appointment and going to it. Each time, it was like an intrusive thought come to life: you’re going to die. You’re going to go through surgery and chemotherapy like Dad and you’re either going to die early, or find out like he did that the cure is worse than the disease, or maybe you’ll hang on just long enough to experience both.

Winter mornings in Texas can sometimes be surprisingly cold. While stepping out the door on a midsummer morning is like walking into someone’s hot exhale, as you might expect, a 33-degree morning is more like a slap in the face. When I packed everything I figured I’d need to move here a couple of years ago, I threw away my winter coat, thinking, I won’t be needing this anymore. (The coat was also about ten years old at that point.)

My first winter in Texas, I layered a bunch of shirts underneath a light jacket and wore a scarf on freezing days. The second winter, I decided that I’d had enough of being cold. After all, I rationalized, here in Texas it was monetarily possible to never have to feel cold again if you really don’t want to. So I bought the warmest coat I could find, an unstylish, bulky parka made by Caterpillar, the company that makes construction vehicles. No more layering, no more checking the weather before leaving in the morning. I could just put this coat on and not worry about it.

But now, under the shadow of a cancer scare these January mornings, wearing the big coat made me feel less like I was smarter than the weather and more like I was trying to smuggle a terminal disease wherever I went. Under my coat, tie, button-down shirt, undershirt, skin, fat, and muscle, something was growing silently in the dark. While maybe it had slipped up and showed some of its handiwork to me, it was already too late to do much about it now.

Since it has affected my life several times before, and since it is such an exquisite mixture of dread and uncertainty, cancer is one of my mind’s biggest bogeymen. I feel personally insulted by the idea of it. I treat you so well, body—why would you betray me? Was I not nice enough? Is this poetic justice for my vanity? Is it, as the old anecdotal saying goes, due to my worrying?

Not only did I feel like I was smuggling cancer under the big coat, I was also warming it up by drinking my coffee. I was feeding it directly when I ate something too sugary. And I was probably even giving it an evil sense of satisfaction when I got stressed out about it. If I was able to keep my mind off it by working in the lab, mixing and pipetting, using kits, and doing arithmetic in my head, it would come crashing back into focus when I was pulling my gloves off to wash my hands.

I pulled up incognito mode on my phone’s browser during my breaks, googling “5-year survival rate colon cancer age 35.” “Cancer staging colon prognosis.” “Colon cancer smoking.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack in college.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack 18 years ago.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack after seeing Luke Wilson smoking in The Royal Tenenbaums.”

At home, I suddenly started noticing the expiration dates on my nonperishables. What will last longer, I thought, the freshness of this baking soda, or me.

I knew I wasn’t going to be comforted by the first GP visit. After all, they’re usually the first stop to a specialist, unless you have a PPO insurance plan, which I don’t. The doctor listened to my symptoms and family history. “Well,” he said, “Given your history, it’s a good idea to refer you to a GI. But, you seem like you lead a healthy lifestyle otherwise, with none of the other risk factors, so we’ll see what he says.”

I made the GI appointment and had to wait two more weeks for it, with the same circular worrying and googling. At the GI appointment, I sat in the waiting room, the youngest patient there by a few decades, and I felt a little bit ridiculous. On the other hand, I’d also just read a harrowing story about a woman in her late 20s who had colon cancer and died from it. That was a real person, I thought, who at the first phase of it probably went through all the same feelings I was now, the I’m-being-ridiculous and is-this-worth-the-time-and-vacation-days, all the way up until her diagnosis. Not just because I was scared, I felt a pang of sympathy. A disease of the old picking a victim from the young is terrible luck.

And I figured, if it could be her, it could be anyone. But most of all, it could be me.

That last bit, I think, is one of—one of—my greatest flaws, the vanity of always thinking that the worst things will happen to you, in spite of the odds. It’s a way of making yourself feel special, but it has no upside. You don’t feel confidence with this type of special-feeling. In fact, you’re more likely to be timid and self-centered, and you just come across as weird to the outside observer. They might think, There’s only a few steps between that guy and Howard Hughes. Somewhere, deep in your mind, they think: Wires are crossed.

Shortly before I went in, another patient arrived, a man around my age or maybe younger who, despite a dozen or so free seats, declined to sit down. My name was called, and I passed a sign on the way to the back that said, “If you have recently traveled to China and have a fever you must let our staff know.”

This doctor’s exam rooms had floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind you’d see in a movie, instead of the usual dull and bulby, off-white plastic exam room interior. A Spanish medical student came in to give a pre-appointment questionnaire and to take my vitals. He asked, in much better English than I could have mustered in Spanish, “So. There is some blood in they crep?”

When he came in, the GI repeated what my GP had said, and since he was also the person who would be performing a colonoscopy, he said I should set an appointment for one with him. I managed to get a date three weeks later.

From other people’s stories, I knew two things about colonoscopies: they are no fun, especially the night before, but the general anesthesia on the day of the procedure, on the other hand, is fun. I was nervous enough on the day before that I actually asked someone at the pharmacy for help finding the items I was looking for: Polyethylene Glycol (or PEG, which we use all the time for lab experiments, and which I was going to have to drink 2 liters of), Gatorade, and laxative pills. I had to take about 800% of their recommended dosages, each.

The bodily effect of those chemicals was dramatic, and I will spare the details. The worst parts of it, I found, were the generally exhausting physical toll it took, and the feeling by the end that I had some kind of dangerous sodium imbalance: I was sweating between my fingers, for example, but the rest of me felt as dry as paper. At 10PM, I was too tired to do anything, but too nervous to sleep for more than a few hours.

One smaller worry that I felt the next morning, as I took a selfie in my hospital gown to send to a friend back home, making a backward peace sign to show off the IV sticking into my hand and also how brave I was being, was that I might just die right there on the table from the general anesthesia. Part of my grad school research was on Propofol, the most-used general anesthesia nowadays (which, incidentally, also killed Michael Jackson). This was the same drug I was to be given.

I’d never been fully put under anesthesia before. It was astronomically improbable that I’d have an adverse reaction to it and die (and by the way, Michael Jackson abused it, using it far outside of medical praxis—if you’re afraid to get a colonoscopy yourself, don’t be, it could save your life), but keep in mind what I said about my vanity.

“Hey, I’m really scared,” I told the anesthesiologist. He said something, muffled by his mask, that sounded like, “It’ll be all right.” Then he busied himself with a syringe, connecting it to my IV. He depressed it about a third of the way. “This should help you,” he said.

The last thing I said was, “Whoa…I feel it.”

After what felt like a hard, late-afternoon nap, I said, “Hello?”

My head was wrapped with something. When I touched my face, I could feel that there were cotton pads underneath the wrapping, holding my eyes shut. I guess that at some point either mid-procedure or after, my eyes had opened, unseeing, and they’d done this to keep them from drying out. “Hang on, sir,” I heard a nurse say, and my head was unwrapped.

“It’s over?” I asked.

“You’re all done,” he said.

“Gimme a minute, please,” I said, my South Jersey accent peeking out. “I feel a little weird.”

Eventually, I sat up. Two of the nurses helped me stand, and I pumped my arms like I was lifting light, invisible dumbbells. As I put my glasses on and looked around, I thought that they all seemed like they were fighting to not smirk. What did I say while I was blacked out? I wondered, with a twinge of panic, before deciding that it would be worthless to speculate. It could have been anything. There are literally millions of possibilities. Again—it would be worthless to speculate, I told myself, firmly.

An Uber driver, I had been told by hospital staff during a consultation, was not a legally strong enough party to take responsibility for me at discharge. Someone I knew would have to escort me to my apartment. Also, they said, they really would do that thing where you’re back in your own clothes, and they push you to the exit in a wheelchair when you’re all finished. After my procedure, my co-worker stood waiting in the discharge zone with his car as an orderly wheeled me out of the hospital exit. I stood up from the wheelchair and got into the passenger seat of his car, for some reason more aware than usual of the heat coming from the vent and the smell of the car’s leather upholstery. “I still feel weird from the anesthesia,” I said to my friend.

“I’ll bet you do,” he replied.

It was about lunch time, and I had taken the rest of the day off from work. When I got home, I ordered a pizza and lay on my bed. I ate the pizza and watched Star Wars. I had not felt any euphoria when I woke up, I thought hollowly. And my first solid meal in almost forty hours tasted unremarkable. I was still groggy, but not in a pleasant way. I felt cheated.

The hospital staff had put a manilla envelope into my hands as I left. It contained sheets of images the doctor had taken during the procedure. Once lucid, I leafed through them and compared the thumbnail-sized images on printer paper with googled images of cancerous tumors viewed through a colonoscope, trying to diagnose myself.

A couple of the images on the papers had shapes that looked weird, with what seemed like variations in the texture or color of my colon wall that to me, at least, appeared one hundred percent fatal. It was another two weeks before I had a follow-up appointment to go over them with the surgeon.

“See this?” The GI said, two weeks later, pointing to one of the images that had seemed completely normal to me, unlike other ones I had thought were much more scary and unusual-looking. “That’s a low-risk polyp. Of course, now it’s a no-risk polyp, ‘cause it’s gone.”

This medical episode ended only three or so weeks before the whole world changed, but I was all the more grateful for that. If I’d waited to be checked out, then I would have been weighing whether it was worth getting tested against the possibility of being infected with COVID.

The doctor recommended that I get a colonoscopy every five years from now on, but added, “If you want, you can go earlier than that.” I told him thanks, but once every five years sounded fine.

*

I wrote about the first seven weeks of the pandemic in my last entry. After that, May and June passed in the same way as March and April had. I went back to work in mid-June for two weeks before the first summer COVID spike closed things back up. I continued to play Quake, and I continued to fret about my family.

I had a job interview for a position in northern Maryland in April. I didn’t get it, but I had a good idea why I’d been turned down: the position wanted people with proven math skills. Which makes sense—for the last few years I’d said repeatedly that I wanted to have a job that involves less lab work and more data analysis. This was one of those jobs.

My graduate program gave me a degree in “Computational and Integrative Biology.” Sometimes I shorten it to “Integrative Biology,” or “Computational Biology,” but I always feel sort of dishonest when I tell people my degree. (Apparently this feeling is common among grad students). My own reason for feeling dishonest was because, in any other college, the work I was doing would probably just fall under normal old “Biology.” While it was true I had done course work that reflected “Computational and Integrative” Biology, they were courses taught in a remedial way.

When I say remedial, I mean that they were courses designed to get biologists up to speed on how to do higher-level data analyses with their experiments. For instance, in my “Biomath” course, we went over ordinary differential equations and graph theory. Those are both intermediate-level math types, ones you’d encounter in the later part of an undergraduate math degree program. Throughout that course, there was a lot of handwaving whenever I asked questions.

“Eh…,” the professor might have responded to something I had asked, “that requires a lot of background explanation we don’t need right now to handle the problem here. Just take it as a given for what we’re working on.”

In grad school, it’s common to be well-versed in only your narrow little research tunnel that leads outward to the edge of “known” biology. But a few times each month, several of us students would head to the bar down at the city’s waterfront after work to talk about our research. It usually began with a complaint—“This is the third time this kit wouldn’t work this week and it takes twelve fucking hours to run it each time,”—but to give us a more context for their problem, whoever was griping would have to go back and start at the beginning, recounting all the steps leading to their experiment’s failure.

This was a useful exercise, since a pair of new eyes on your work meant that at least you could get feedback on how to better relate the subject matter when you talked to a non-science audience, and at most, you might get a real solution for the problem you were bumping up against.

But I would sometimes get privately upset, as I sipped my beer and glanced out the window at the river, when a math-centered Computational and Integrative Biology student would start talking about their research. As someone who feels an unpleasant, TV static-like anxiety in my chest the moment I see letters in italics, or one of those big, orphan sorority sigmas following an equal sign during a math seminar, this upset feeling was directed at myself. Because, as a result of my insecurity, I would start listening to the beginning of the math student’s explanation of their research, trip over the first unfamiliar term I heard, lose the thread of what they were talking about, give up, and zone out. The math students, overall, just seemed light years ahead of me.

A critical vocabulary word that I began to mentally tie to the situation—slumming, these math types were slumming when talking to us biologists—was the grain of sand to my insecurity’s oyster. By the time I got my diploma a few years later, it had developed into a little pearl; now I had the feeling that I was, relative to those who’d come from a math background, a fake computational biologist.

Unhelpfully, the people in charge of hiring for the jobs I want nowadays seemed to agree. All the job listings I was interested in applying for made me feel the same panic that advanced math symbols on powerpoint slides did. The subjects they wanted their applicants to have experience in—machine learning, deep learning, regression analyses—were all frightening, impregnable terms, reminding me either of some kind of giant machine made up of endless tubes and valves, all spitting dangerously hot steam, or of a highly secure, underground bomb shelter that requires fingerprints or eyeball scans to get into. I knew from my previous learning experiences that if I didn’t understand the fundamentals and learned only the higher-level, applied stuff, it was just going to make me feel unworthy, and I’d forget it at once.

But summer had come—it was midsummer now, in fact. The pandemic wasn’t going anywhere, so what was I going to do if I didn’t start learning something? I ended up registering for three classes at a community college back home, which offered their fall semester online. For two thousand dollars, including textbooks, I got a spot in Introductory Statistics, Linear Algebra, and Calculus III.

Calculus III was a risk. I’d taken Calc I and II in undergrad, now about seventeen years ago, and I had earned Bs back then. I didn’t remember much of the material from either class. I’d tried watching Khan Academy videos at various points in the meantime, but could never stick with it. I’d watch several videos in a row, feel like I understood things, try a practice problem, get it wrong, and forget about it after a day or two. But now, I had put actual money into it and, in a few months, a grade would be spit back out, so this time I had real skin in the game.

But I had misgivings that I was too old to learn new stuff, or that I would be one of those students I remember when I was in undergrad, the older students who would grind class to a halt with their endless questions. Or maybe I would get worse grades than I had in undergrad, despite taking things more seriously now.

Two of the classes were taught asynchronously, meaning each lecture was a video that you could pause or replay at your leisure, and all tests were take-home, but the other class, Statistics, was done over Zoom. You might think a Zoom class could be a better way to learn—clarifying questions can be asked immediately, for instance—but for me, at least, it was not. Instead of focusing on the material being taught, the whole time I’d be thinking, “They can see me. Everyone here can see me. I can see me, and I have a dumbass expression on my face. Can they tell that I have a bedsheet instead of a curtain over my window blinds?”

My mind wandered during class just as much as it had while sitting in a lecture hall when I was eighteen, but now, these classes were held later at night, after I’d been working all day and had eaten dinner. As a result of this, and the fact that I find Statistics to be boring when it’s taught as a series of don’t-worry-about-how-we-derived-it formulas to plug numbers into, I did the worst in Statistics.

But Calc and Linear Algebra were more interesting. When I watched the class videos, I got familiar with the disembodied voices of the teachers, who each seemed to be trying to do an impression of Khan Academy videos. My Calc teacher, with his strong Vietnamese accent, would punctuate every few lines of derivation or proof with, “So what does that mean then?” Every time—new topic, new chapter, new problem, exactly the same tone of voice: “So what does that mean then?”

Eventually, in my head, his cadence merged with the tones of Woody Woodpecker’s laugh, and I began saying it to myself as I did chores around my apartment. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d half-sing at my garbage can liner as I cinched it shut. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d say to a wrinkled button-down shirt, enjoying the pepper shaker-y smell of my iron when it’s turned up to its hottest setting. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d say to the window blinds, when considering whether I should replace the bedsheet I’d hung there with an actual curtain, before answering myself that No, this apartment is too temporary for something as tony as curtains.

Sometimes I’d say it three times in a row, like Woody Woodpecker himself:

“So what does that mean, then?”

“So what does that mean, then?”

“So what does that mean, then?”

I kept a Google Sheet of how much time I spent doing work for each class, and found that I averaged about 20 hours a week total. That broke down to approximately an hour and a half each weekday, and on Saturday and Sunday I would go for about six or seven hours each. I’d get up at 7:30 those weekend mornings and brew a pot of coffee, then sit taking notes and working through every part of each assigned homework, not moving on from a problem until I understood everything about it.

I think that those Saturday and Sunday mornings may have been the happiest I felt during the year 2020. In the middle of a difficult Calc problem, not having the answer yet but certain I was on the right track, while also buzzing on caffeine, as a beam of early horizontal sunlight hit my kitchen backsplash and filled the apartment with more brightness than all my lightbulbs put together, I for once did not feel worried. I was unworried about my parents, my sisters, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece and nephew, and all the pets. Unworried about COVID, or cancer, or the work stresses of the week. Unworried about getting older, about being alone still, or about enjoying being alone too much; unworried about letting all of this time go by and still feeling like real life hasn’t started; unworried about my dad having another stroke, or about my mom just suddenly up and dying out of nowhere, or cancer, or whether my hairline is changing, or the fact that my heart has been skipping a beat sometimes lately, or whether my friends who I speak to on the phone were getting sick of me, or whether I am too graphic when I describe symptoms I am afraid mean I might have cancer, or whether my apartment neighbors will keep me up with their noise again tonight, or whether the tooth sensitivity I feel drinking cold water lately means I need to risk a dentist visit during a pandemic, or whether I will be able to have healthier boundaries with my parents whenever I return to the northeast, or whether I’ll ever feel truly satisfied and content, or whether I’ll ever feel actual joy some day, or whether my hang-ups, and anxieties, and fears, and regrets about my personal and professional choices will end up all ganging up on me at once, or, of course, whether at any given moment, I might have cancer.

My attitude going into the classes was that I would disregard whatever grades I got and simply aim for as much comprehension as possible. But about halfway through the semester, I lost my nerve and began to think of my grades as a direct indicator of my level of understanding. So I started fretting about my grades, and on days of Calc III exams during the second half of the semester, I took vacation time so I could spend the whole day working on them.

It got a little crazy toward the end, but finally, it was over, and I managed to get all As. That made me happy, even if I knew that that kind of satisfaction is a bit immature. But I felt like I was making up for some of the sins I had committed as a college student, my laziness and my previous lack of appreciation for education finally, in a small way, absolved.

*

I spent Christmas here in Texas. When I think back on Christmases from previous years I find that I can remember the past two years very well because I flew home and packed a lot of family and friend time into a few short days. Before 2018, though, I can’t remember any specific Christmas well enough to recount anything that happened on the day.

But when I was a little kid, I remembered each Christmas perfectly, mainly due to the gifts I got and the room where we put the Christmas tree—where “Christmas happened”: in 1990, it was in the back room and we got a magic set, and also my brother pretended to faint when he saw he’d gotten Reebok Pumps. In 1991, it was in the family room, and my brother and I got the Nintendo game “Base Wars.” In 1992, it was in the living room and we got a Sega Genesis along with the game “Sonic 2.” In 1993, it was in the family room again, and I got a Hot Wheels Key Force car, and my brother got the Genesis game “Hard Ball 3 With Al Michaels.”

In 1994, my grandfather died a few weeks before Christmas, and we got a Sega CD. That was the year I became aware that the Christmas spirit was vulnerable to external forces, one’s first experience with death being the most offensive of those forces, and after a few months I also became aware that a hot new gaming console like the Sega CD could “fail,” slipping into obscurity with a small and unremarkable library of games. As a result, the indestructible-seeming sheen of Christmas fell away, leaving behind a better idea of what Christmas really is: a bare, thin-glassed lightbulb plugged into the middle of the year’s darkest period. After 1994, I can’t really remember what happened each Christmas.

This past Christmas will always be memorable, though, because I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day pretty much doing one of three things: playing Quake (yes, that hobby still refuses to die), watching something Star Wars-related, or video chatting with my family. At any time when I wasn’t speaking to family, I had Christmas music playing in the background, including while Star Wars was on. I turned the heat up in my apartment to 75 degrees and enjoyed how money-wastingly hot it was getting, until my nose started to bleed from the dry air.

I want to take this opportunity to say that I much prefer Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. Christmas Eve is generally all anticipation and guest arrivals, buoying the mood long into the falling night. From the viewpoint of Christmas Eve, any miracle might happen the following morning. But then after a late, over-buttered breakfast on Christmas Day, there’s nothing much else to do except think about cleaning up and regret how much you’ve eaten. The “anything could happen” feeling is now all gone, collapsed from a dazzling infinity’s worth of possibilities down to one homely outcome.

I hadn’t put up any decorations for my apartment, unless the Christmas music can be considered a decoration. This ended up being a good thing, though, since I didn’t have to take anything down once the holiday was over.

*

I started taking walks pretty early in the pandemic, my first walk happening after about one week of lockdown. That day there was a surprisingly large amount of people also walking. We all stayed far away from one another, since none of us were wearing masks—the width of even a modest suburban Texas street is still impressively wide, so there was no safety issue. I always took the initiative to be the one who crossed the street if I saw someone, exaggeratedly swinging my arms as I crossed so the person walking toward me could see my intentions even from far away. I did this because I figured it would be harder for the dog-walkers to wrangle their dog across the street and get out of my way, and the people without dogs were either old or were walking in a group.

In the beginning I was walking maybe twice a week, which then became three times, which became five. It held at five times a week during the fall semester because I’d have to be on Zoom from 6:30-8:30 PM Tuesdays and Thursdays, which took up the whole span of time in which I would usually walk. Nowadays, no longer taking classes, I walk every night.

For a while, I tried to get home before sunset, because I’m afraid of being hit by a car in the dark. After the clocks shifted back, I had to choose between walking earlier, during rush hour when everyone was arriving back at their houses from work, or waiting to walk until after the sun has set. I ended up buying one of those reflective construction worker’s vests for $8 on Amazon and waiting for nighttime. I feel like a dork when I wear the vest, but most of the people walking at night who I see are also wearing reflective clothes. Theirs are more chic than my vest, though, looking like they were ordered through an expensive fitness-wear catalogue. I’d buy the same type, but to me, walking is a meditative, solitary act, and I don’t want to feel that I’m catering to externalities like looking stylish while I’m trying to feel solitary. It also acts as a tacit acknowledgement that I’m not a criminal: “I’m making myself as visible as possible! I’m not casing your houses to break into them later on!”

Even though the focus of COVID is on the transmission of disease through shared, respired air, I still pay a lot of attention to contaminated surfaces. When I go out anywhere, I have a routine: first, I put on my going-out clothes (newly clean), then my shoes, which are possibly dirty, since I have to re-tie them sometimes with unwashed hands, so before I touch anything else after tying my shoes, I wash my hands. Then, I put on a mask, turn off all the lights except the one at the front door, pick up my keys with my right hand, slip my phone into my left pocket, and walk to the door. I put my keys in my right pocket (my wallet is already there), open the door with my right hand, turn out the light, step out the door, and take the keys out of my pocket to lock the door with, again, only my right hand.

I use my right hand pretty much everywhere outside—to push or pull open doors, to open my car to retrieve something from it, to open my mailbox and carry my mail in—because I know that if I use my left hand, my phone-operating hand, I’m going to have to put the phone into a little UV light phone-sterilizing box that I bought when I get home. And for some reason, I feel like it’s a small moral failure to have to use that UV box, so I try to keep my left hand from touching anything except for the phone. But I know that if I drive anywhere, all bets are off—both my hands touch the steering wheel, my left hand touches the car door handle while getting out, and I push open doors with both hands whenever I get somewhere. I’m sure that my left hand ends up touching something that may have SARS-CoV-2 on it as I carry out an errand, and therefore into the UV box my phone must go when I get home. But, when I go out to walk, there’s a good chance that I won’t need to touch anything with my left hand between leaving the apartment and coming back. If that’s the case, I can use my phone freely while walking if I want to, but when I get home, I can still just take it from my pocket and place it on my desk, no ultraviolet sterilizing waves needed. But of course then I still have to wash my right hand.

The walk is the same route every night now. It’s a vaguely circular, level 2.7 miles, starting northbound, bearing west, south, then east. It takes about forty minutes for me to walk the whole thing, plus or minus four minutes, depending on how warmed up I get while walking. My heart rate generally goes up to about 115 beats per minute for most of the walk, according to my watch, then spikes to 135 as I climb the stairs to my fourth floor apartment at the end.

Insulated by the sound of music or an audiobook on my headphones, and with my hands stuck in my pockets, actually holding onto the cloth pocket linings themselves, I feel less like a person on a walk and more like someone steering a large, inertia-filled thing—a sailboat that I have to tack against an unfavorable wind, or a bobsled whose blades I have to turn out of deep ruts on the ice. But despite feeling bodily awkward, I find suburbia to be a soothing place to move through. I really don’t understand how some people think of the suburbs as some kind of dystopia, to be honest. My neighborhood has wide streets, as I mentioned, and the houses are almost all ranch-style. The trees, like the houses, are shorter than they are in the northeast. Some of the trees look more like very tall shrubbery. As for the ground, the blades of grass are wider, and the soil is just a bit sandier. Sometimes, I see two-inch-long cockroaches, what people back home would call “water bugs,” creeping across the sidewalks.

I can’t remember the names of the streets on the walk, except for Forrest Street, which I noticed once when I saw the street sign while I was running and it made me think of “Run, Forrest, run!” and Kenilworth Street, which has the same name as a street back at home. Other than those, I only know points along the route by the informal names I’ve assigned to them. There’s a road where it changes direction from heading north to heading east, and it looks over a little park. The lack of houses there gives an unobstructed view of the western horizon. For that reason, I call that part of the route “Sunset Bend.” At another point on the route there is a house where, in the beginning of lockdown last spring, a family was always outside, the parents sitting motionless in Adirondack chairs while their kids all went nuts on the front lawn, playing with the sprinkler, or doing hopscotch, or sitting at one of those tiny plastic picnic tables, playing some board game. That part of the walk I called “Kidville.”

There were other houses that were always so inactive, so abandoned-seeming—the blinds were always closed and there wasn’t a car in the driveway—that I started to wonder if anyone lived there at all, and whether maybe the neighborhood association was mowing its lawn to stave off the shabbiness. But after the switch from walking in daylight to nighttime, I saw that some of those houses, while still shut up and silent, had lights on inside in rooms not facing the street. Looking at those houses is like staring into the vents of a space heater in a dark room.

Eventually I started thinking about how the walk is exactly 2.7 miles. Then, idly, I realized that if you multiply 2.7 by 30, you get 81. That number of years, eighty-one, seems like a decent amount of years to hope to live—it’s not greedy, you’re not asking for a hundred years, for example—but also, maybe when I get closer to 81, there will be better medical treatments and 81 will seem younger. Assuming that doesn’t happen, though, I think of 81 years as more or less “a complete life.” It is very sad, but not exactly a tragedy, to die at 81.

With this in mind, I started translating the distance along my walk to human ages. For instance, 1.0 miles into the walk, times 30, would equal 30 years. And 1.2 miles times 30 would equal 36 years, which is how old I am now. Since by the time I’d discovered this “conversion formula,” the walk was already so familiar to me that I had a very good perspective on how far into the walk any given point felt—the precise moment when I sense that I’m transitioning from the middle to the end phase of the walk, for example. So when I came up with the multiply-by-30 conversion formula, I was interested to see exactly what part of the walk 1.2 miles, or 36 years old, corresponded to.

The answer is that it was later in the walk than I’d hoped. The moment I reach 1.2 miles is long past the most scenic parts of the route; it’s just after a left turn that puts me on a long straightaway of modest houses leading to an arterial road, known to me as the hook-around part of the circuit where in past walks, I had thought, “Now I’m on my way back home.”

Over the next few evenings, I noted other points, ones that had come before the 1.2 mile marker, and compared them to parts of my already-lived life: I graduated high school at 0.6 miles into the walk, which was the beginning of Sunset Bend. I got my master’s degree in a spot where, at nighttime, a streetlight shines through the leaves on a tree, giving the street a dance hall, disco-ball kind of lighting (hence, “Disco Point”). That friendly, lighted patch of street, with a jaunty-looking house standing next to it, makes it my favorite part of the walk. As for points I have not yet reached: still ahead of my current age distance, at around 1.5 miles, is Kidville, but I haven’t seen anyone in the front yard there in months now.

Toward the end, almost back home, there’s a large school property. I’ve never seen anyone on the grounds, except for the occasional person who sneaks onto the running track to jog it. Along one of the fences that borders the school, in springtime last year, someone started zip-tying laminated sheets of paper with jokes written on them to the chain links. The jokes are all clean, and pretty lame—these days it seems like almost all kid-friendly jokes are just puns, like “How did the farmer find his wife? He tractor down!”

One time, I saw a kid about ten years old on his bike, riding along the sidewalk and stopping to read each joke. The fence ends at a small park for toddlers. There’s a big plastic sign at the entrance of the park, faded but still legible, that has a boy’s name displayed on it. Below his name is written a tragically short span of years, and below that, a message: “This park is dedicated to the memory of (the boy’s name), and to all of the little tykes of (the neighborhood).” Whoever it was putting up jokes on the schoolyard fence stopped replacing them with new ones some time during the fall, and I walk too late to ever see anyone playing at the playground. Well, that’s not quite true: very rarely, around 9 PM on warm nights, I might see what appears to be a young mother scrutinizing her phone as her kid swings in the dark.

*

I haven’t been to the gym to lift any weights since lockdown started. I’ve been able to do cardio in my apartment, but the result of all the cardio and all the walking is that I’ve lost a decent amount of lifting strength, as well as about ten pounds. This is consistent with how life in general has evolved: I have also reduced the list of spaces I travel to, leaving my apartment only to go to work, to pick up groceries, and to walk through my neighborhood. My body, and the edges of my life, have gone through a great miniaturization, but my perspective has adapted with it—each feature within this smaller space seems more detailed, and the day’s moments are of a finer grain. Inside my apartment, I have realized how much the lighting affects the atmosphere, and as a result the mood, so I can change which lights are on when to reflect the mood of each time of day. When I walk at night, sometimes I have the same feeling I did the week before I moved here from New Jersey, a sort of farewell feeling. That feeling started in the fall as a dessert-like flipside to my happy mornings spent doing math homework. Those evenings, I also felt like I was saying goodbye, to a more insecure, more ignorant version of myself, I guess. Nowadays, I get the feeling that I’m saying goodbye to the person who had, until now, always feared that he was missing out on things.

There will be a time, closer to now than now is to the beginning of the pandemic, when I will leave Texas. I will be happy and relieved to return home, whenever that is. But at the same time, there’s a new feeling that is starting to take root, and it’s a weird one: for all the hardship that the pandemic has presented to me, the anxiety for my family and the limitations it’s put on my mobility, social life, and career, for more than ten months now, its most memorable effect, unless I’m affected by the illness itself, will be that it made me love my neighborhood. I have walked more than 500 miles of it over the months, and scores of miles remain to be walked before I move away. I’ve walked during steaming afternoons, during cloudy sunsets, in pre-dawn twilight on cool mornings, and during soft, breezy evenings. It’s always picturesque, pleasant, very green. The houses look inviting, and the dog-walkers wave to me. I listen to music that suits my mood and do the geographical equivalent of palm reading. That’s all, really.

Can a person love a place? Feel gratitude toward landscaping, houses, parked cars, and people viewed only from a distance? Can someone feel affinity to a fox seen in a churchyard and streetlights shining through leaves in the night? Affection for lawn mower exhaust, for the noise of an approaching SUV slowly carving out a bend? Love for landmarks that correspond to moments in one’s past, or to moments that one might encounter in the future?

There will be a time, I hope, when my years in Texas are far in the past. But some day, I will hear a song, or see a house with a certain architecture, or smell a variety of grass, and Texas will return to me. At the same time, I also hope that it isn’t too overwhelming. I’ve found that I can never tell how potent a memory of a particular time or place will be until there’s a lot of distance between me and it. Sometimes, a memory will come gently, settling on me like a haze, ready to be indulged, even laughed at. In such cases I turn up the music that brought the memory, or take a luxuriating whiff of the scent, and I think back on the time, feeling only a little bit sad.

But other memories swoop down like some kind of predatory bird, and in those cases, the nostalgia feels more like the punch of the bird’s talons in the back of my neck. The sense of missing is so strong that it feels less like nostalgia and more like a distilled, portable homesickness. Ridiculously, I’ll even want to return to the memory’s time and place, despite knowing that in reality it had been fraught with pain or unease. Which makes the sneaking feeling growing during this time, at this place, all the more uncanny. I mean, all that this span of time has been, is me, and some terrain, and the wind, and the light of the sun or the moon. No one else. My nostalgia for anything before this was always about times and places with other people. So who will I be missing?

Someone once said, Wherever you go, there you are. But now, I wonder: is that really true?

[50scentsofsoap]

Forever

Jung Hoseok has always been there for you, after all he has been your best friend for years. A lot can change during that time...

word count: 4.2k genre: smut tw: drinking, reckless behaviour

author’s note: I wrote this oneshot instead of writing my university application essays, just uploading all my old material before I move on to fresher ideas.

You’re pinned against the wall, both arms above you and locked tight as if you had handcuffs on your wrists. Your body being attacked at every inch your skin was showing. Face. Neck. Shoulders. You just closed your eyes and took in every sensation. The clenched hand holding your wrists. The sharp drop of oxygen from your lungs. The vibrations of his mouth against yours. The struggle against gravity to keep on standing, when your knees were ready to give way. 

He pulled away, leaving both of you to gasp for air.

“How come you never told me you liked me?” He asked with a puzzled look.

“How come you could never take a hint?” You reply with a cocky attitude.

He pushed his torso onto yours, locking your back onto the wall. “Oh, is that any way to talk to your best friend?”

✎ 10 years ago

“HI! Looks like we’re locker buddies! My name’s Hoseok, what’s yours?” he asked with a smile so bright, its brightness could illuminate any moonless night.

“Um… Y/N.” A blunt reply. You hoped he’d get the hint and wouldn’t talk to you any further.

“Nice to meet you Y/N! Want a cookie? My Mom always packs me two cookies for lunch. I think she puts in molasses instead of brown sugar...”

He continued to ramble on. You figured he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon, so you learned to just ignore him or reply in short phrases. This went on for a couple of months, but your cold attitude didn’t bother him at all. Every morning, he would always find something new to talk about, and it was getting annoying.

Your birthday soon rolled around, and you invited everyone in your homeroom class to come to your 13th birthday party, including Hoseok. Everyone liked him… except you. He was just too happy, and it annoyed you how sickly giddy he could be. Still, he wasn’t a bad person so you had no reason to hate him.

“Hey, Hobi… come on it’s time for cak- Are you ok?” You stepped out of your kitchen to the patio. He was sitting there alone. His eyes glistening, shit the kid’s crying.

He quickly wiped his eyes as soon as he saw you. “Hey Y/N, need a hand with opening your presents?” His smile had returned. Like a light switch, he just… stopped being upset.

“No thanks, but it’s time for cake. You coming in?”

“Ooh cake, yes please!” With that he darted into the house.

From that day onwards, you kept an eye on him, and you knew his secret. No matter how hurt he was, he was always smiling.

✎ ✎

Hoseok picked you up, lips still locked in a deep kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and hands around his neck. He held your thighs as he carried you towards your bed. For that moment, it seemed as if there was no-one else in the world but you and him. It was as if this was a novel and you two were the main characters, with everyone else blurring into the background. He placed you on your duvet, your lips never breaking contact. He pulled away first, trying to catch his breath. You sat up, and looked at him with questioning eyes.

“You know,” he began. He leaned against your chest of drawers. “If we do this, we can’t go back to what we were.” He spoke cautiously, as if he were treading on eggshells.

“What do you mean?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, if we do this, we can’t go back to being friends. We might be able to, but to me it will be as if we’re pretending to be friends for old time’s sake.”

You stand up, directly in front of him. You have to tilt you head quite high to meet his eyes. “Ok, what did you say half an hour ago?”

He gulped, “I’ve been in love with you since I can remember.”

“Good, and what did I say?” 

“Fuck off?” He grinned. There it was, that smile to hide anything he didn’t want to show.

“No.”

“You’ve loved me since we became best friends.”

“Exactly. Now…” You took off your sweatshirt and shirt at the same time, leaving you only in your lacy balcony bra, “we’ll always be best friends, nothing will change that.”

Hobi stared at your chest then at your gaze. You noticed a hungry look that you’d never seen before. His mouth parted just slightly, in awe, perhaps, of you taking off your clothes without hesitation. “You’ve seen me semi naked before,” you lifted his chin to look into his eyes, “what’s changed?”

He licked his lips. “Maybe the fact you’re taking your clothes off for me?”

“Hmm. I guess so, but that shouldn’t chang-”

He crashed his supple lips onto yours, taking you by surprise. “Are you sure about this?”

You look at him with your endearing eyes, a hand caresses his cheek as a coy smile spreads across your face. “Absolutely.”

✎ 7 years ago

“Hey, are you even listening? What’s the nucleus of an atom made out of?” You exclaimed with annoyance.

“Protons and neutrons. Look, I’m fine on chem, there’s no need to quiz me.” Hobi replied while styling his hair with his mother’s straighteners. 

“You got 95% in the last test, it’s obvious you have to study.” 

“Look Y/N,” he put down the straighteners and sat on his bed “you don’t have to get 100% in everything. It’s only the end of year exams that actually count towards your score.”

“I know that, but I’ve got a reputation to keep up. Plus, people think your scores are slipping because…” 

“Because…?”

You sigh. “Because we’re too busy ‘dating’. I mean, where do these rumours come from?”

“Well, you’re always in my house, that’s one thing”

“Fuck off, it’s only because both my parents are usually out and I want to save on our heating bills.”

“Oh, so you’re mooching off me for warmth?”

“That, and your Mom’s snacks. Since you moved next door, I’ve had her cookies everyday. Are you sure she doesn’t put weed in them?”

“What? No. They just taste really good. I’m surprised your teeth haven’t rotted yet. Come on, no more Chemistry. We have a party to go to.” He put on his jacket and threw you yours.

“I’m only going so I can keep an eye on you, and remember, chugging down a two litre bottle of coke with mentos is not a fun experience.” You slip on your coat and flick your hair out so it hangs over your neck.

“Don’t remind me.” 

Pretty much everyone was around 15 to 16 years old, there were 8 people in total. Pizza boxes stacked on top of the dining room table, fizzy drinks surrounding it. It was a gaming party and an intense game of monopoly was in session. Of course, you and Hobi were the winning team. Board games soon got boring, and so a round of spin the bottle took place. This was the age to pretend to be mature and try ‘adult’ games. Of course, no one wanted to kiss anyone in particular, so it became a hybrid version of truth or dare. 

You stare at the bottle intently as the first round lands on you. 

“Wooh! It’s Y/N’s go. Ok, truth or dare?” asked John. 

“Well I’m not good with dares, so truth.” 

“Are you and Hoseok actually dating?” 

“Have you two kissed?” Another party-goer chimed in. 

“What the fuck, no! We’re not dating.” You yelled in frustration. You could feel the blush creep up on your face, but prayed no one noticed because the bottle had already begun to spin again. Soon after, it landed on Hobi. 

“Truth for me!” He chirped. 

“I have one,” you note. “The day of my 13th birthday party, you looked upset. Why?” 

“What the heck Y/N, that was like 3 years ago no one remembers shit from that long ago!” John proclaimed. 

“No it’s ok,” Hobi continued, “That was the day my goldfish died.” You looked at him with a confused look. 

“Alright, good enough, let’s go.” The bottle landed on more people until is was nearly 10pm, the time to leave. John began to spin the bottle. “For the last round, we’re going to spin it twice. The two people it lands on, they have to kiss. Whether it’s boy-boy or girl-girl, you still have to kiss.”

The bottle spins and lands on you and… fuck… Hobi. You two just look at each other with an expression of concern, but then just go for it, to get it over and done with. It was an awkward lip-touch kiss, neither of you dared to use tongue. Soon enough 5 seconds were up, and it was the time to leave. Of course, everyone would be talking about your kiss with Hoseok at school for the next month, but you couldn’t care less. You had Chemistry on your mind.

“Hey Y/N,” Hobi starts as you two walk the familiar path home. “Sorry about the kiss.”

“It’s fine, fuck what people say, right?” 

“Yeah.” He let out a long sigh. “I lied. My goldfish didn’t die that day.” 

“So why were you sad?” 

“I was feeling lonely.” Your heart sank. “I’ve always been friendly with people, but I’ve never really had friends. I only realised it that day.” 

You stopped in your tracks and turned to him. He paused too. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Listen to me motherfucker, you’re my best friend. If you ever feel lonely, I’ll be right over with ice cream and Twilight. Also, if any bitch breaks your heart, tell me and I will wreck her.” You let him go and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

You felt protective of him, but as a friend right? You surely weren’t falling in love with him.

✎ ✎

You lay on your bed in only your bra and underwear. Hoseok was also stripped down to his boxers, with a little help from you. You saw both your clothes mingle into a messy pile in the corner of your small bedroom. You’d been living in this apartment in the city since you ran an up and coming company. It was tiny, but it was your own place. It was home. Hoseok lived close, his dance studio was next to your office. Everyday, you’d get a perfect view of the zumba ladies in the morning, the little kids learning hip hop in the afternoon and his dance crew in the evenings. After work, you two would usually get dinner together and walk home. Old habits from your high school days. 

Hoseok picked up his jacket and took out a condom from his inside pocket. He took the wrapper and put it down on the bedside table. “Now before all that, I have to make you wet.”

His head disappeared in front of your legs. He bent your knees and propped your hips up with a pillow, then he slid his fingers into your underwear and slowly took them off, past your thighs, knees, calves, until they were at your ankles. He took them off and added it to the pile of clothes. You took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect. That’s when he hit the spot. His tongue expertly slid along your folds. You let out a gasp, out of both shock and pleasure. He was now at your core, you were exposed to him. He slid his tongue into you as far as it would go, and back out. He continued this endless assault until you could contain it no longer and moaned his name. 

“Wow, it feels quite hot when you say my name like that.” He returned to his position. “How long has it been since you’ve been laid?” His hot breath hit your entrance like dragon smoke. You were getting wet with every second his tongue lay on your spot. 

“I think… around… 4 years?” You finally manage to get out.

“Wow since Uni? Have you just been touching yourself to satiate your urges?” He presses on.

“Of course. I’ve been busy, I didn’t have time to really screw anyone.”

Without warning, he slid a finger into you. You arched your back in response to the hormones coursing through your veins. “Your fingers have always been so slender, but I’m sure you’ve never felt like this when you did it by yourself.” 

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a painfully slow pace. Your hips travelled forward, for more of him, but he wouldn’t let you. He curled his finger inside you, touching your delicate walls. You thought you would go crazy if you didn’t climax soon. The teasing was becoming too much for you. 

“Hoseok, if you make me come in the next 5 minutes,” you sat up and looked directly at his dark eyes. You seductively licked your lips and gave him a wink. “You know what I’ll do, now stop playing around.”

He slipped another finger inside you and started pumping at a steady rhythm. He put his thumb on your bundle of nerves and rubbed small circles into it. After ten circles, he would take his thumb off and suck on it for about two seconds. This torturous repetition continued until you felt a familiar presence in your lower abdomen. Soon enough, your mind, body and soul shattered. The high was nothing like you had experienced before, it was more carnal, almost animalistic in nature.

Hoseok removed the pillow from your hips. You were breathing heavily from your orgasm. He removed his boxers and began slowly pumping himself. “So, that took me four minutes and 12 seconds.” You looked up to see him palm his length. You wondered for a second if he would even fit inside you. “It’s time to keep up your end of the bargain.”

Hobi laid on the bed whilst you got onto all fours, still pretty shaken up from your first real orgasm in god knows how long. You had thought of the various positions and things you’d like to try with Hobi; against a wall, in the shower, blindfolded, the lot. You didn’t even know you wanted him in a way that’s more than a friend until you thought of him during one of your ‘relaxation’ sessions. The thought of him touching you everywhere just excited you, something which you’d never felt before. Now here he was, in front of you, naked. With the thought that you had been victorious in your mission in mind, you took his manhood into your mouth and began to move your head up and down.

✎ 4 years ago

“Why did you drive an hour and a half from your house to pick me up? I told you I was fine.” You exclaimed trying to keep your vision clear.

“Fine?! Bullshit Y/N. If I didn’t come when I did… Jesus, who knows what could have happened!” Hoseok was driving his car well above the speed limit, but he didn’t care about breaking the law. He did care about happened to you.

You had gone to a house party with a couple of other people from your University. While you were off pursuing higher education, Hoseok began apprenticing under dancers from ballet to popping, to become a choreographer. You two promised each other to talk everyday, and you did however you could. Calls, Facebook, Twitter and Skype,. He always informed you about his daily life, as did you. You thought this party would be like any other, some booze, weed and messy makeout sessions… but you overdid it on all three. 

You had drunk way past your limit and gotten so faded it was difficult to even stand up. The number of people you kissed whilst inebriated was well over the half century mark, both guys and girls. You were just about to get frisky with another boy when your phone rang. It was Hoseok. You declined the call and continued your with your antics. It was only after you had stripped your underwear and was about to lose your virginity in someone else’s bedroom, when Hobi came bursting through the door. He picked you up and carried you and your belongings to his car.

“I told you I was going to a party! Why did you have to cockblock me?! Gosh you’re such an asshole!” You scream at him.

“Excuse me for being a good friend! You were going to have unprotected sex… while drunk! And… wait are you high as well?! Fuck Y/N, this isn’t like you at all.” Hoseok replied sternly.

“Well what am I like? A straight-A student who’s got her whole life sorted out. Well guess what, I’m not who you think I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is that I’m sick of everyone expecting me to be this perfect embodiment of success. I mean… maybe I do want to smoke weed Mum. Or even fail my classes Dad. Or maybe I do want to get an STD from unprotected sex Hobi!”

“I get that you’re pissed off at me, but you’ll thank me one day. You’re just going through a rebel phase, it’ll pass don’t worry.”

“Thank you?! I was going to lose my virginity to.., whatever his name was!” You throw your hands up in defeat and slump into the passenger seat. You can feel the tears well up in your eyes, “Hobi, is there something wrong with me?”

“What? No. Nothing at all.”

“Then why can’t I get a boyfriend? Don’t give me all the bullshit about not finding the right guy! I mean, I do have guys as friends but they never like me as more than friends.”

“Maybe because they’d rather value their friendship to you than a relationship? Look, if you’re so desperate to get laid, make the first move. Only while you’re sober, understand?”

Your emotions switched from lonely to hopeful, damn you were totally drunk. You looked at Hobi as if he cracked the code to an impenetrable safe. “You’re an actual genius, Hoseok,” with that you passed out.

 After that, you could only remember waking up to find yourself in Hoseok’s bed, with him next to you, accompanied by a killer hangover.

✎ ✎

Hobi grabbed your hair tight and pulled your mouth from his cock to his lips. The kiss was rough, needy, desperate. You could feel his tongue invade your mouth, trying to fight for dominance. Both of you had been warmed up sufficiently by all this foreplay, and now it was time for the real deal. Hobi slipped on the condom with ease. This is it, after all these years.

“Ok, I need you on all fours, but with your chest on the bed. Keep your hips up in the air, ok?” Hoseok guided you.

“Fine, but this feels like an awkward pose to start with.” You chimed, but doing as you were told. 

“I know what I’m doing. Just wait until I’m inside you babe.” You can feel Hobi smirk as he says it.

You can feel the tip of his cock at your entrance, painfully teasing you. Your cheeks are burning red, from the stimulation and the annoyance that he’s making you wait. You just wanted him in you already, and your patience was beginning to wear thin.

Suddenly, Hoseok grabbed both sides of your hips and put his whole length in, hilt-deep. The sensation of being filled so quickly made you draw out a deep guttural moan. A string of curse words soon followed, which made him chuckle.

“You’re so cute when you swear Y/N.”

You kneel upright so your back is flush against Hobi’s chiseled abdomen, and turn your head to plant a small kiss on his lips. “Shut up and make me feel good, sunshine.” You grind against him, while his dick is still deep in you. You didn’t recall sex feeling this good. You felt Hoseok’s small smile drop and he starts nibbling on your neck.

He puts a hand on your nape and pushes you down, so you’re back to the position you started in. He puts a pillow right in front of you and raises your hips higher with his hands. “You see, what I like about this position... “ You feel him kneel forward until he’s right by your ear, “is that I can... Fuck. You. Hard.” He pronounce every syllable in a harsh tone. “Hold on tight, babe. You’ll feel like you’ve never done before.”

You do as instructed and place your hands on your small headrest, mildly excited for Hoseok to get on with it. He pulls out slowly, until he’s only a few inches in, and pounds into you with enough force to jolt you forward.

✎ 1 hour ago

“Ok ok, I have a really juicy secret!” You shout out. “When I was 11 years old, I drew dicks in the girls’ loos and the teachers thought one of the boys would do it. Turns out, my desk partner was caught with going to the girls’ toilets and he got blamed for the dicks.”

There weren’t many people around on the streets at this time of night, but this didn’t faze you. You had pepper spray in your purse and a knife tucked in the hidden compartment of your coat. Usually Friday nights were when you two went to the small Vietnamese place that was quite far away. You had just missed the last bus and now had to walk the 2 miles home, in the freezing cold.

“Shit, that must have taken guts.” Hobi responded to your statement. “Ok, um… you know when I told you I was dating Jennifer Griggs?”

“Yeh?” You answer cautiously.

“Well, turns out she was a lesbian who was only dating me to convince her parents that she was straight.” 

“No way! That’s actually so sad, I feel bad for her. I called her a bitch once because she took my cookie by accident.” 

“Don’t you mean my cookie? You always stole my food.” 

“Not always, if you’re not looking, it doesn’t count as stealing, duh!” 

“You’re such a douche.” 

“Ooh I’ve got one. At Uni, I joined the BDSM society and pretty much attended orgies every week.” 

“Holy hell, seriously? Is this when you would tell me you’re off to go swimming?!” 

“Yes, I’ve never step foot inside the swimming pool there. Although I was actually a weird one, because I would only join in like once a month but I only became a watcher about a year in.” 

“How come?” 

“Because none of them were you.”

Shit. You should not have said that. 

“Ok it’s my turn.” Hoseok began after a long pause. He let out a deep sigh, “I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks and stood to face him. You stood on your tiptoes to reach his ear. “My place is closer.”

✎ ✎

You were so close to climaxing, you thought you would pass out if you didn’t reach your orgasm soon. Somehow, Hobi sensed that you were close and began thrusting into you at a faster and harder pace. His hips rolled into yours effortlessly, you expected nothing less of the fantastic dancer. Your heart felt as if it would tire from beating too fast, and your hands balled fistfuls of your bedding. Soon enough, one final body roll was all it took for you to reach your high at an altitude beyond the heavens. You felt as if you had left the astral plane and ascended beyond comprehension and bodily existence. Whilst descending, you realised that Hobi was still pounding into you, using your high to fuel his own when later he too reached his limits. He collapsed on top of your back, using his forearms to stop himself from crushing you underneath his weight. 

You wince at the feeling of him pulling out but you’re so exhausted, only sleep is on your mind. As Hobi goes to clean himself up, you curl up under your duvet, wearing your birthday suit. You’re sweaty and sticky from all the activities and wonder if you ought to shower now, but that thought soon leaves your head when Hobi slips in next to you. His arm snakes around your waist and brings it closer, so your hair tickles his chin. You slip a leg around him and hook your arm over the side of his chest.

“You know,” you begin as you lift your head to face him, “We’re merging with Google next week, I’ll get a raise and y’know… maybe you can live with me? I’ll get a bigger bed and maybe decent sheets and we can move closer to your studio, but I don’t think I can cook dinner every night because I can only boil pasta.” You rattle on faster than your speed of thought.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins with a bright smile. “Are you asking me to be your sugar baby?”

“Well, maybe. Unless you’re not down for that, which is totally cool with me.” You reply with exasperation.

“No, I’m fine to be whatever you need me to be. Sugar baby, husband, boyfriend, one night stand.” He listed.

“Well tonight… will you be my best friend?” You ask inquisitively.

“Forever.” He kisses your forehead as the two of you merge into each other, drifting off into a blissful slumber.

[collapsingintojupiter]

Philosophy and Hot Chocolate

And look who’s back with some more dumb fanfiction rambles

ha, yeah, that would be

this bastard.

@just-perhaps wanted to see the braincell boys debate, so I bring you all this. You’re welcome.

Characters: Logan, Deceit (sympathetic), Roman, Patton, Virgil.

Pairings: None. Just platonic all around here.

Warnings: Alcohol mention, and Idk of anything else? Let me know if you’d like something added tho.

It was getting late in the diner. For Logan, that was nothing new. He just sat quietly at his booth by himself like he always did, absentmindedly stirring a cup of black coffee with a spoon and ignoring the creamer that was in a tiny metal bucket near his mug. Few customers remained as per usual at this hour, which meant that the place was finally, relatively quiet. 

For a cutesy diner, things got interesting here after about 10pm. All the nice pictures crowding the walls became dark with shadow after the sun went down and the lights dimmed, and the little knick knacks began to look like haunted artifacts from their perches around various shelves in the main room. 

Logan liked that about this place. When the night got old everyone else was gone, but the diner still remained open like it always did, dutifully serving its customers clear into the next morning. The night shift had started a few hours ago now; but one lonely staff member standing behind the bar with a few of the usual drunks. They’d be leaving soon enough when they got too rowdy to stay, and then finally he could have his silence.

Then the door opened. 

Logan looked up as a strangely-dressed character entered the diner, a bowler hat topping off his honey-colored hair, tanned skin, and sharp green eyes. A thin scar ran up from the left side of his mouth to the base of his ear; a mouth that was currently twisted into something that looked like a smirk as he slowly sauntered past the empty tables, then slid into the booth across from Logan. 

“You look bored,” he said. 

“I’m not.” Logan glanced across the table at the stranger, who was wearing a yellow shirt and black jacket over top. He looked like a hornet. “Interesting clothing choice,” he commented.

“I might say the same about you.”

Logan glanced down at the black shirt and tie he currently wore, then raised an eyebrow. 

“Fair enough.”

“Hey Logan, can I get something for your friend here?” Both turned as a new character approached, this one with curly hair that hung over round glasses and a light blue apron. His name tag read Patton. 

“You’re a regular here,” the other man said. 

“And you’re not.” Logan looked over at Patton. “Can we get a basket of fries?”

“Of course!” Patton smiled at him, then turned to the hornet man. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

“Iced tea. Unsweetened.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Patton flashed them a smile and left, humming something to himself as he disappeared into the back room. The stranger raised an eyebrow at Logan.

“Fries?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” 

“It’s almost midnight.” 

“Says the one ordering iced tea.”

“That’s not the same.” Logan only shrugged, automatically reaching up to adjust his glasses.

“Maybe for you it isn’t.” He yawned, turning as Patton returned to the table with a small red basket of fries, offering the waiter a nod as it was set down in front of him. 

“Thank you, Patton.” 

“Sure thing! You guys just let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

The stranger reached across the table as Patton returned to his station by the bar, grabbed a fry, and took a bite. 

“I like these,” he decided after a moment, and reached for another one. 

“Do I get a name?” Logan asked. 

“No.”

“Very well, Diogenes.” The other man sipped at his iced tea. 

“A famous cynical philosopher. Touché.” He smiled a bit behind his drink as Logan reached for a fry. “My name’s Dorian.”

“Logan, as I believe you’ve already heard.” Dorian nodded to him, then took another fry. 

“I was correct in my guess that you were educated.”

“Oh?”

“The only people who frequent these places at this hour are either genius, drunk, or mad. Because you clearly aren’t drunk and you don’t speak like a churchish pig, genius is the only category I’m left with to define you by.”

“You forgot a category,” Logan stated, sipping at his coffee. He took a fry, looked at his drink, and dipped it in his coffee before trying it. Too bitter. He made a face and sipped at his coffee again, trying to wash out the weird taste in his mouth.

“What would that category be?” Dorian asked, looking amused at Logan’s unsuccessful flavor combination. 

“Desperate. And perhaps...adventurous, though those show up rarely. Even they sleep.”

“Desperate falls under the category of mad, I believe. Adventurous certainly does.”

“How so?”

“Mad with desperation, for example. That is a thing, you know.” Dorian took another fry. Someone in a far booth gave them an odd look. He looked drunk, though he had no beer in front of him and hadn’t been to the bar all evening.

“I am aware of that phrase. However, it all depends on your definition of mad, and your definition of desperation,” Logan countered. Dorian smirked. 

“Tell me more.” 

Logan tilted his head, then shrugged and adjusted his glasses again. This wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened to him by far, and he saw no harm in rolling along with the visit of this strange “Dorian” character as long as he remained civil. Which, so far, he had. 

A waltz started to play quietly in the diner. 

“For starters,” Logan said, pulling on his ‘teaching voice’ as he began, “the phrase ‘mad with desperation,’ as you put it, hinges on the definition of both words, not just the one or the other. Madness can mean anything from insanity and psychosis according to some, to mental illness, to mere eccentricity, which by psychological definition is not mad, but merely different from the norm. Desperation, on the other hand, can mean several different things as well. Someone desperate to use the restroom, for example, may come here to relieve themselves. Or on the other end of the spectrum, someone fleeing a toxic or abusive situation may wish to seek temporary shelter here. You would not call them mad, would you?”

Dorian leaned back, sipping at his iced tea. 

“I suppose I would not,” he conceded at last. “You intrigue me, Oh-One-With-The-Glasses.” 

Logan hummed his reply, then looked aside. “Ah, more visitors. I thought he’d come over here eventually.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare...” The man who had been watching them earlier now spoke up, standing behind Dorian with a partially apprehensive, partially embarrassed expression. A red and white varsity jacket hung from his shoulders, which were slumped with what Logan guessed to be exhaustion. “Ah...does your table have room for one more?” Dorian and Logan exchanged glances. 

“I suppose so. Who would you like to accompany for this fine conversation, Logan or myself?” Dorian asked. The new character looked between the two, then sat next to Dorian, who obligingly scooted over to make room. 

“I’m Roman,” he said as he sat down, his face blushing a delicate shade of red. “You guys... uh...you seemed interesting, I-I guess.”

“We met less than ten minutes ago,” Logan stated bluntly. 

“Ah, but that’s the fun part!” Dorian grinned at last, looking between Logan and the new visitor. “See, the reason that drunks, geniuses, and madmen all visit this place at this time is because the line between each is so thin, it may as well not exist at all.”

“I don’t drink,” Logan said. 

“For some of us, anyhow.” Dorian looked over at Roman. “And where do you fall in this category?”

“You two are insane.” Roman shook his head, reaching for a fry. “But...I couldn’t get to sleep, for some reason. Figured I might as well go somewhere rather than toss and turn all night.”

“Madman,” Dorian said with a nod, chuckling at Roman’s half-tired, half-outraged expression.

“Ha,” he said. “I guess you’re not wrong.”

“You’re sleep deprived,” Logan said. 

“Eh,” Dorian waved his hand, which had a yellow glove on it that Logan hadn’t noticed before. “Same difference, right Roman?”

“Falsehood. Just because the majority of a population believes in a fact or observation does not make said fact or observation correct. For example, the geocentric theory was believed by the majority in some places for hundreds of years, until science proved them wrong.” Logan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Therefore, your statement is invalid.”

“I’m not following,” Roman mumbled. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Dorian locked eyes with Logan and grinned again. “This has been much more invigorating than I had expected...I like you,” he announced. 

“Just like that?” another voice asked. 

“Patton!” Logan spun around, and the waiter tilted his head at him. “You...you startled me.”

“Oh, sorry!” Patton held up his hands, still smiling cheerfully (how did he do that at this hour, anyways?). “It’s just me! My other customers left, so you guys are the only ones still in here.”

“You’re bored,” Dorian stated, and Patton nodded. 

“Welcome to the table.”

“What is it with you and inviting people to a table that’s not yours?” Logan asked as he scooted aside for Patton to take a seat next to him. “Some people would consider that to be bad manners, you know.”

“You’re not ‘some people,’ however, so that statement is redundant.”

“...Fair point.”

“You guys are insane,” Roman said again. 

“Everything is insane depending on how you look at it.” Dorian looked at his empty iced tea, then shrugged and grabbed another fry. 

“Do you want a refill?” Patton asked. 

“I’d like that.”

“Can I have hot chocolate?” Roman looked up from where he’d been staring at Dorian’s gloves, tilting his head slightly. 

“Sure!” Patton got up and quickly disappeared into the back room, returning a few minutes later with the ordered items. Roman sipped at his hot chocolate and nodded. 

“This is good,” he announced loudly as he set his mug down. “Good hot chocolate.”

“A real philosopher, are you?” Dorian asked with an amused look. 

“No philosophy, only chocolate.” Roman hugged his mug close to him and began whispering something at it. Logan raised an eyebrow. 

“So...you wish to debate?” he asked slowly, locking eyes with Dorian. 

“Pick a topic,” Dorian answered, leaning back against the booth. “Whatever you want.” 

“Oooh, this is gonna be fun!” Patton grinned, reaching for a fry and munching on it while he watched. Logan leaned back in his seat as well; looking at Dorian; considering his offer. 

“Human morality,” he said at last. “Tell me your opinion.”

“You choose a fascinating topic. Kudos to you.” Dorian sipped at his new glass of iced tea. 

“It’s useless and we’re all gonna die,” said a new voice. 

“Did I advertise a party over here?” Logan looked over at the new voice, who belonged to a grumpy-looking character with purple-dyed hair and eyeshadow-smudged cheeks.

"Hey Virgil!" Patton said cheerfully. "What brings you here from the back?"

"Boredom," was the answer. Virgil pointed at Roman. "And that idiot's shouting."

"You just don't understand chocolate," Roman declared, looking up from his mug. Virgil rolled his eyes and adjusted the patch jacket around his shoulders. 

"Scoot," he said to Patton, who obligingly moved over so he could sit. Logan made a face as he retreated to the corner of his booth to make room, but didn't object.

What a night this was turning out to be.

"As I was saying," Dorian said, waving a gloved hand in the air as he spoke. “Morality. That certainly has a fascinating role in society, does it not? After all, without it we wouldn’t have a society.”

“And we’d all be dead,” Virgil added. Dorian glared at him. 

“Not my point.”

“You believe that morality is necessary to form a society?” Logan asked. 

“I believe it is necessary to form a society such as the ones we humans live in, yes.” 

“Fascinating.” Logan leaned back against his booth, automatically reaching up a hand to fidget with his tie. 

“Mmmm...chocolate,” Roman murmured into his mug. 

“I mean, think about it,” Dorian continued, glancing at Roman but ignoring his dramatic proclamation. “Without morality, we would have no system of justice, which can only logically produce anarchy. The system of ‘strongest wins all’ would be the only system, larger governments couldn’t possibly form, and so on and so forth. Morality is necessary for the existence of society, and also beneficial to those who know how to exploit it.”

“Which is why it is not the groundwork of society, but a mere addition,” Logan cut in. “After all, society cannot exist without structure, no matter how advanced the morals of its citizens are. Logically, people will naturally come together for the benefit of the group, and a system of justice would arise by itself in order to preserve the good of the many. Therefore, morality isn’t necessary for justice at all; rather, it can actually hinder it due to the actions of those with morals that are considered to be ‘bad.’” He leaned forward and took a sip from his tea with a smirk, watching Dorian for a reaction. The other man grinned at him for the third time that night. 

“Well done, Logan,” he said. “I applaud you.” He raised an eyebrow. “So, you believe morals are unnecessary?” 

“They are for me.” At last, Logan himself grinned, sliding the bill over to Dorian and standing up. 

“Checkmate.”

[jj-lynn21]

Party At Greenwald’s ch 6

Warnings: fluff,  angst, possessive relationship

Images courtesy of @dearcardan on twitter, @billofourtime,imdb, mood board my creation

Music: Party Mix 2018 

ch 1   ch 2  ch 3 ch 4 ch 5ch ch 7

{flash back continued}

When you get back to the guest house you grab your phone to create the email account. Luckily the name isn’t taken. Mark made some turkey sandwiches and you threw together macaroni salad with the leftover cheddar mac. You were getting into such a great flow doing things together. It made you very happy.

Maybe the happiest you had been your whole life other than the fact you could never go out to party with others. Neither of you had done any drugs in almost a month. Just drank a lot of wine. The stores were still delivering great wine with the food you wanted.

You watched True Blood as you snuggled, escalating into more as the show went on. Both of you naked. Your legs straddled over his lap looking towards the television. You thought you were going to be able to watch the show as you as your body bounced with his every thrust. But Mark acted as if he was jealous of your reactions. He pulled your head back by the hair.

“Eyes on me,” he pants. “That’s all wig and make up. I’m real. I’m right here fucking you until you cum.”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Oh, damn I love you…Yes… Mark…I”

He groans “Fuck yeah, I love you, Princess.” He grabs your hips force you down on his cock harder. He growls in your ear as his balls tighten.

“Oh Fuck Mark…” The growl pushes you over the edge and he knew it would. “YES YES…awwww yes”

“Fffffuck…yes…,” he cums. Pulls you back to lay over him. He turns the TV off. “That’s not to bad of a show you picked Babe. Better than those sparkling vampire ones Lily made me watch.”

You looked at him curiously, “Have you been thinking about her since Abra said she was in town?”

Mark chuckles, “let’s take a shower. We have a sort of party to get ready for. You should check your email for the time.”

You got up and started upstairs mumbling, “You still have a thing for someone who never really cared about you.”

“Hey,” Mark grabbed your shoulder before you got to the stairs, “I don’t give a fuck about that bitch. I guess it’s just being back home. Back in this place brings up memories. Not good memories. We have some crazy memories together. But never have I doubted you loved me. Like you said she never really cared about me. Never really loved me.”

You turned and just hugged him tight for a few minutes.

As you showered, Mark puts out what he wants you to wear. He puts out jean and a paisley print button up shirt for him. You walked in the bedroom in with a towel wrapped around your body and another wrapping your hair.

“Do I get to wear panties and a bra tonight?” You smirk since the last time he put an outfit out for you he didn’t want you wearing under garments.

Mark chuckles, “Yeah, I picked out a set I love that will show under the lace top and shorts.”

“You want me to parade around in that with your friends?” You looked surprised.

“Your mine and I want to show you off,” He grins. “Plus, they won’t be wearing much more.”

You just shake your head. He goes to shower. The invite on the email from Bex directs you to sign up on houseparty.com. When everyone is on you can video chat. A music  list is also included to play in the background. You find the music to download to your phone. Then you set houseparty.com up on your laptop.

At 10pm you and Mark grab some beers and sit the laptop on the desk. You Angled wide so the video will show you on the couch and dancing behind it. You set your phone to the playlist.

“Hey, everyone.” Bex says sitting by Abra. “We are quarantining at my apartment. How are you all doing?”

Another window opens with Lily and her grey bearded, bald headed husband by her side. “Hey everyone. We’re good in our neck of the woods.”

You buried your head in Marks shoulder to hide your laughter. He looked more like he was seventy-five than in his fifties.  

Mark kept a straight face, “Hey, this is my girl, (YN). Bex and Abra met her earlier today.”

You thought you would be in the least amount of cloths, but Lily has what looks like string bikini that barely covers her. Bex and Abra have short shorts and cami’s.  

“Turn the music on,” Bex got up to hit hit the music on her ipad.

You hit play on your phone.

Mark chuckles, “All to familiar Bex. Did you get all the songs from senior year?”

“Hell yeah I did, “She and Abra started dancing. “Not all the memories are bad. Do you remember the first party we had at Greenwald’s. His parents were almost always out of town so we could do whatever we wanted.”

“Dance with the girls, Princess,” Mark suggests. “Yeah, good night, I think. I remember trying to hide the hangover from my parents. My mom thought I had the flew from not wearing a coat outside.” He laughed.

“I remember we fucked that night we met,” Lily smirked.

She was sitting on her husband’s lap. You were up dancing. A beer in hand. You ignored Lily’s comment.

Mark said, “Sorry, Lily I have no memory of that night and many others at Greenwald’s. It was great to forget shit for a night or two. Man, I really miss partying. My frat house was a big fucking party every evening at 10pm until around 6am Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”

You throw yourself on Mark’s lap, “I vouch for that. Usually ending with Mark going down on me sooo good. But I get that now to.” You giggle getting tipsy already.

Mark blushed.

Lily glares, “Good for you. That was the cause of our biggest fight.”

“I thought our biggest fight was because you sent dirty pictures to another old dude who was married.” Mark spit out like it tasted nasty in his mouth.

Abra pointed her finger at the screen, “Enough of that shit talking about each other. We are here to dance and reminisce about good things. Like ruling the school and having a great time doing it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark pouted. “We had some great times. Better nights that I loved, I can’t really remember.” He laughs holding up his beer. “To Greenwald’s”

You and the others all hold up their beers, “To Greenwald’s.”

Bex falls onto her couch, “Sounds like some of us matured more than others that pretend to be.”

An obvious dig at Lily for not apologizing. Lily rolls her eyes.

She pulls her husband up, “We’re dancing.”

Shape of you plays as she rolls her body up and down her husband.

Mark picks you up standing you up. He puts his forehead to yours humming the song. You slide your hand up his neck to his cheek. Mark mouths the words, “I’m in love with the shape of you…”

Lily husband is noticeable excited. “Does this mean we get to have sex tonight?”

She just glares at him.

“Sorry Lily, I know its not our normal night.” He seems completely subservient to her.

Mark and you kiss so you don’t laugh out loud at Lily’s poor husband. Abra and Bex are laugh. They are also smoking marijuana that might be making everything a little funnier to them.

“So how many time a week do you and your Princess have sex Mark,” Bex laughs just knowing its way more than lily.

You speak up, “That’s a difficult number to really calculate. One to three times a day every day unless I really need a break. My legs and my pussy ach for more than a day sometimes.”

Mark grins as he grinds against your ass. Arms around you from behind. You are looking towards the screen as their mouths all drop open with envy.  

“Sorry, Princess.” Mark’s grin just gets bigger.

“And then sometimes I can’t think straight for hours after,” you brag.

“Are you insinuating he fucks your brains out?” Bex comments.

“I wouldn’t put it that crassly but sure,” you blush.

“She is so amazing,” Mark brags.

You drink and chat with everyone eventually passing out in Mark’s arms.

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: Gotta Get ‘Em While They’re Down

Daltonfic Big Bang 2020: Week 3, Day 3, Wevid 

Based off @hufflebecks‘s Motorbike Bros concept & the Weebly Fact: “Wes got into a motorcycle accident once- it was an attempted hit and run.” 

David spent most nights studying these days. Between checking in on Katherine’s recovery, beating Siegerson’s GPA, and his extra-curriculars, he couldn’t really participate in Windsor shenanigans anymore. It made him sad to see his housemates off having fun, but it was Senior Year, he couldn’t mess around.

What hurt him the most was that even in his studying blitzes before, he had Wes by his side as a good natured distraction. They’d bounce ideas off each other, throw trivia, and toss ideas for editing notes. Now? Wes had early acceptance to ASA College, and David was still trying to get Harvard, Yale, and Princeton to respond to his letters. But that’s what David got for shooting high he guessed.

Now, whenever he saw Wes, his best friend would wave in passing before heading out with his motorbike club. Yeah, they hung out on weekends, but it still felt like he was being replaced. Why did Wes even own a motorbike? Yeah his dad had taught him to ride a vespa on family trips to Naples, but they lived in Ohio right now- it wasn’t exactly cosmopolitan.

David sighed, he shouldn’t be so harsh. Maybe it was good they spend time apart; after all, they wouldn’t be going to the same college, let along even in the same part of the country. It stung though. He missed his friend. If only he wasn’t so busy.

Buzz buzz. David’s cellphone went off from its spot on the shelf. He’d put it away to limit distractions. Why wasn’t it off? Oh, wait, all calls except his parents, Katherine, and Wes were sent to voicemail.

He stood up, reaching and unplugging his phone. The caller ID said Wes.

“Hello?” David asked. He checked the time. It was 10pm, why was Wes calling him now? He was supposed to stay at the Blakes after their day of riding. Maybe he needed a ride back? Typical of the Day Students to just assume boarders could sleep wherever because they typically had two homes.

“David? It’s David right?” A girl answered.

“Who is this?” Was this a new girlfriend? Had Wes not told him? He felt his heart sink. Wouldn’t have Wes told him.

“Jackie Blake. We’re at the hospital with Wes.”

No.

“What!” He didn’t even ask, just exclaimed; jumping up out of his seat and looking for his car keys. “Is he hurt? Which hospital? How far is it from Dalton?”

She sounded relieved. “We’re at Mansfield Hospital, it’s an hour north from where you are. I’m glad you picked up. Todd said you’re the only one who’d have his parent’s numbers.”

“Is he okay?” David repeated, throwing his coat on as he struggled to keep his phone to his ear.

“Yes and no.” Jackie’s tone was more cautious this time. “We were on our way back from the ride when a pickup truck decided they’d cut our lead on the pack; Wes’d decided to set the pace, and I guess? They just didn’t like motorbikes?”

David swallowed. A third time: “Is he…?”

“We need his parent’s permission to get him into surgery. They think a rib punctured his lung when he was knocked off the road.” Jackie’s voice stuttered. “They just kept going. Like they hadn’t throw him across the freeway.”

“Surgery?” David swore to himself. He knew the motorcycle club was a bad idea. Shit. Wes’ parents would die of heartbreak if this was how their boy went out. “I’ll text you their numbers. But, introduce yourself first. They need to know who’s telling them Wes is hurt.”

“Okay…” Jackie said slowly. There was a ping from her end of the phone as David sent it. He was at his car now, ready to hang up and put in the directions to Mansfield.

She spoke again, quieter. “I’m sorry we didn’t get the licence plate. Colby stopped us all and had us put out flares so we could get him off the road. Dustin wanted to chase after them but-”

“Don’t worry.” David said, “just tell his parents. It will all be okay.”

“Okay.” She said quietly.

“I’m getting in the car now. I’ll talk to you soon.” David said, hanging up before she could say something else that would make him madder at the situation.

It wasn’t Jackie Blake’s fault. It wasn’t her brother Colby’s fault. Most of the Motorcycle Bros (as they called themselves) were fairly good people from what Wes described to him. It didn’t mean he couldn’t feel guilty he let Wes go out there. He’d already seen Katherine in the hospital because of one foolish driver; to see Wes? A target of a hit and run because of some stupidity about bikers? No. He didn’t want to accept it.

The road opened up before him, darkening fast in the early evening sunset. The lights were coming on one by one, making the road feel quieter than it was. He didn’t want to play the radio in case he got a call from Wes’ phone again, or from the Hughes, or anyone. He had to stay alert in case speakerphone went on.

It didn’t though. He made it to the hospital, probably passing the place the driver ran Wes off the road. He didn’t want to think about it, but he was.

David found the front desk, trying to look presentable, and not like he’d just sped an hour up the I-71. He approached the desk, ready to ask about a Hughes, Wes please- but a familiar face caught him by the arm.

“Hey, David. Are you alright?” Todd asked, still wearing the ridiculous jacket Wes commissioned for their little club. It was scuffed, covered in mud, but the smear of brown against Todd’s gloves made David swallow any jealousy he felt.

“I’m fine.” Of course he was. He wasn’t the one in hospital.

“He’s still in surgery, but the hospital isn’t busy tonight so they let us into the cafeteria even though its closed. We’re waiting for someone from the Hughes to show up; they said it will still eb a couple hours, but I guess,” Todd paused. He was leaning David off the entrance, presumably towards the sitting area. “None of us could just go home. Not, well… his motorcycle is still in the ditch and, it wouldn’t feel right riding without him.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t gone out with you guys.” David found himself saying bitterly.

Todd eyed him. He didn’t say anything for a moment; their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. “I’m sorry you feel this way. But statistically, you know without us this just would have happened sooner.”

“You guys make it easy with your little bike gang.” David said, fiddling with the keys in his pocket. Wes was in surgery, and he was out here, chatting. It didn’t feel right. There had to be something he could do.

“Wes can have more than two groups of friends.” Todd said quietly, checking the door before opening it. “But now is not the time to fight. Sadie and Colby know more about the medical situation because they had to relay information to the doctors and the Hughes. We all care about Wes, but think about it- only you have his parent’s number. Don’t be mean because he’s not devoting his life to you.”

David kept quiet, the door opened to the large hospital cafeteria. The whole group was there, sans Wes. Some still had their jackets on; others like honorary member Casey Lambert, had taken it off in a haze of frantic pacing. Colby, Dustin, and Jackie were whispering between each other, while Sadie comforted a crying Allison.

“It’s okay, he’ll be fine.” Sadie said, loud enough for David to hear as they came in. She was holding Allison against her chest. David had seen Allison enough in passing while visiting Katherine at Royal to know she was a loud, confident girl. She didn’t seem like the type who cried much.

“I- I was supposed to ride with him. This is my fault.” Allison cried, sniffing between words into Sadie’s t-shirt. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been hit if I was on the back of his b-b-bike.”

Sadie petted her hair, “Allie, honey, you know he would have just sped faster. You two are speed demons. Shh, shh, this is no one’s fault except that evil truck who hit him.”

“I should have go-gotten the plate, or I could have-”

“Allie, honey don’t do that. No, no. Come on sweetie.” Sadie said, holding her tighter. “We’ll be back on the road soon, don’t worry. He’ll get out of surgery and everything will be fine.”

Sadie looked up, meeting David’s eyes. She pressed her mouth together and averted her gaze. Colby noticed the company Todd brought and got up quickly. He dodged around the table to hold his hand out to David, an awkward greeting.

“Hey, I’m sorry we gotta meet all proper like this- but, uh, I’m Colby from Lancaster?”

“I know who you are.” David said quickly. “Todd said you know what’s going on with Wes?”

Colby scratched the back of his neck nervously, “Yeah, uh. Shit. I. Okay. So his parents okayed the surgery, after that I was cut out of the conversation because of confidentiality; but before that I saw the whole thing. Fucking car comes out of the left lane, clips Wes’ wheel and sends him into the ditch. It was mostly a skid, but he flipped once so between the road burn and the fall I think he’s got a broken leg, a couple ribs, and like… there was a lot of blood along his whole? Side? I guess?”

Todd nodded, “Yeah his side. We’re usually in full protective gear, so if anything his face is the one thing that’s fine. The chin strap didn’t budge thank any gods who were listening. But, well, padding only does so much against gravel.”

“The doctors say he should be fine. But its his lung they’re worried about. He’s got two, but like? Internal bleeding… fuck.” Colby didn’t seem to know how to order his thoughts. “It was deliberate. And, his parents said something weird, like, ‘we’ll take care of it’, like they would just be able to pick out of hundreds of fucking pickup trucks which one got Wes on a random road in Ohio. They must know some cops or something….”

“Or something.” David said solemnly. So they didn’t know; or they didn’t know David knew, so they were pretending. Colby seemed like he couldn’t keep a secret though; so, maybe Wes didn’t trust them with that kind of information.

“Is he going to be out soon?” David asked.

“Not sure.” Colby said. “Sit down, its going to be a while.”

---

It was a while. Four hours in fact. One to take him apart, and three to put him back together. The group was told they wouldn’t be able to stay at the hospital overnight, but Victoria Hughes arrived banked by two large, bulked up men, all except David were told to leave.

He was grateful, he was. He promised to keep the Motorcycle Bros in the loop, but right now Wes was his priority. Answering confirmation texts from Casey Lambert were not going to be on his to-do list.

Wes didn’t wake up that night. Or the next morning. Victoria left for a few hours, switching off with David at his bedside. The large men by his doorway stood silent watch. It was a long time before David felt safe enough to let himself sleep.

He was shaken awake sometime in the evening; a fragile grip tugging at his pant leg. “Davey?”

“Wessy.” David smiled sleepily before he even opened his eyes.

Wes groaned. David couldn’t help but laugh. “You called me Davey, fair is fair,”

“I’m high on painkillers, let me live.”

David opened his eyes to his best friend, tired and exhausted, but alive. Thank you, God; he was alive. He resisted the urge to hug him, conscious that underneath the hospital gown was probably a whole mummy’s worth of bandages. Instead, he gripped the hand on his trousers tightly. He wasn’t going to let go until Wes asked.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” David said, weight behind his words.

“Yeah, bit gnarly.” Wes smiled.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, and?” Wes rolled his head against the pillow, scraped scabs visible under his neckline. “How long have you been here?”

“Last night. Victoria is here too. She brought the goons.”

“Probably Alejandro and Pino; they’re nice guys.” Wes said, stifling a yawn. “Sorry to keep you up, it wasn’t even the fun kind.”

“I don’t mind, you’d do the same for me.” David squeezed his hand. Wes squeezed back.

“You know it.” Wes said, tiredness seeping into his voice.

David couldn’t help it though, his next words just came out. “What were you thinking? Going out riding? Leading the pack? They’re…”

“They’re the only reason I’m alive.” Wes corrected. “If I’d been alone? Shit.”

“I know, but you’re on the road with-”

“David not every traffic accident is Katherine!” Wes said, sitting up and wincing. “God. You remember when I skidded off the road in sophomore year; that was my own stupidity. This time? I could have just stayed in that ditch for a week and no one would have found me. It’s the side of the I-71 on a weekday, no one cares. Besides, its not like you’d come out riding with me.”

“Its dangerous Wes.” David insisted.

“God, David; is this about me spending time with them and not you?” Wes asked, nailing the issue on its head.

“It’s not.” David lied.

“I’m not stupid. I know you.”

He did.

“I just-”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been spending time with you; but have you considered you haven’t made it easy?”

“I-“

“I know, you want to get into a good school. I don’t care because I’m running the family business no matter what my grades are.” Wes sighed, “David. Has it occurred to you I miss you too?”

“But you spend all your time with-”

“Only when you blow me off to study!”

“We used to study together.”

“We used to have all our classes together.” Wes pointed out. “I’m going business, you’re going medical. Why would I still be in Biology or Physics? Why would you be in Accounting?”

David said nothing.

“For someone so smart you can be a real idiot.” Wes said, pulling David’s hand closer. “But okay, if you promise to stop being just a territorial idiot, I’ll make a special David Only Day- not just movie nights, but just us.”

David snorted, “You’re just saying that cause you’ll be on bedrest until you’re better.”

“You saw through my evil plan! Oh no!” Wes said dramatically, raiding his hand as many degrees it could go until it hurt.

They would be fine. But it would take work. Luckily, both of them knew how to make the impossible out of probabilities.

David then realized, “Hey wait are you dating-”

“They’re all taken and it’s unfair.” Wes said. “I know!”

“Oh that’s rough man.”