#LOOK THEY ARE REALLY PRETTY OKAY HOW IS MY TINY GAY HEART SUPPOSED TO RESPOND

[rslwasmygayawakening]

“Why are you gay?” They ask.

#robert sean leonard #...we’re not talking about pictures 3 and 5 okay because I know I’m admitting that but it’s not a conversation we will have #LOOK THEY ARE REALLY PRETTY OKAY HOW IS MY TINY GAY HEART SUPPOSED TO RESPOND #hugh laurie #shut up #dead poets society #house #house md #I’m fucking gay okay #ALSO WHO GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO LOOK THAT GOOD IN A BLUE TURTLE NECK LIKE EXCUSE YOU SIR BUT THATS NOT LEGAL

[abluescarfonwaston]

Fun fanfiction idea:

Miles crossdresses to avoid being seen in public, and knowing him, it's very convincing. Except for the fact that he's still wearing the exact same shade of red and his hair extensions are the same color.

Maya immediately recognizes him, but Phoenix, being his dense self, takes longer.

Alright which one of you bastards just put me on freaking read? How dare you read me like a freaking children's novel. YOU KNEW I COULDN’T RESIST THIS. Featuring Gender non conforming Miles Edgeworth. Also on AO3

“Earth to Nick.” A cold plastic bag was dropped on his head.

“Ack!” He turned around on the park bench to glare at her. “What was that for?”

“You’ve been totally checked out for like the last ten minutes!”

“I was not! I was completely focused!”

“On what?!” Maya demanded pulling out the ice cream from the bag she’d hit him with and flopping down on the bench next to him. Tearing one open.

“Uhhhh…” His cheeks heated as he glanced back to the focus of his attention. Grabbed the other ice cream to try and cover it. “Nothing.”

It was just… She was beautiful. Silver starlight hair that framed her face and flowed down the curve of her spine. The way her dress hugged the wide expanse of her chest. Pinched down to her narrow hips. The magenta billow of the tail of her dress that still allowed him to see the garters around her muscular calves and thighs when she turned.

She was breathtaking. Just objectively. The kind of women Mia would ask him what kind of conclusive proof he was wearing around his neck to get her to even consider dating him.

She took a step forward in those two inch heels and he swallowed. She was probably at least his height if not taller. Would he have to bounce up on the balls of his feet to kiss her? She’d turn her face up with a teasing smirk and deny him. Did you want something Phoenix?

You know what I want!

Do I?

A kiss! Please!

And that teasing smile would grow just a little bigger and the crinkle under her bespectacled eyes a little softer. Oh I suppose I can do that. She’d angle herself a little lower and kiss him and-

So he might have been a little romantically horny.

Her dog, a big fluffy creature dropped the neon tennis ball at her feet. Play lunging. Tail raised and wagging in anticipation.

She scooped up the ball in her tennis ball throwing… stick. Whatever those were called. Smile widening. His chest twisted. She said something to the dog.

You wanna go? You ready? Is my sweet girl ready?

The dog wiggled. Excitement growing.

She threw back her arm. Go get it! Flung the ball across the park.

Her fluffy beast hurtled after.

“Oh my God Nick.”

Cold ice cream dripped onto his hand jolting him back to his body. He hastily licked it up. Face hot. “Shut up.” I’m allowed to look! I was an art major! I can appreciate beauty while realizing that I’m not allowed to touch!

Or interact in any way with someone so far out of my league.

Gods. She’s pretty.

“Nick is that Edgeworth?”

His head snapped to her then. She wasn’t staring at him laughing at his plight. She was looking at someone in the park.

“What?! Where?!” He tried to follow her gaze to the prosecutor in question. It would be strange to see him out an about. Was he dressed like a normal human being? Was that why she was so surprised? Was he ordering a hot dog from a stand in full Edgeworth Regalia? Gods was he on a run in shorts and a too tight tee, sweaty and slightly disheveled from the exercise?!

He scanned the park as Maya gaped. Jaw working but infuriatingly silent. “Where Maya? I don’t see him.”

If I miss seeing Edgeworth in running shoes and shorts you’re buying your own dinner!

She weakly raised her hand and pointed. Finger shaking.

To… The woman in pink?

He laughed. “What are you talking about Maya?” Just because they’re both gorgeous silver hair people with a preference for light red- bordering on pink-

She cupped her mouth. “Miles Edgeworth!”

He grabbed her. “What do you think you’re doing?!” He glanced at the woman. “See she didn’t even respond!”

“She- he – FLINCHED NICK. It’s TOTALLY HIM! Oh my god!!!” She started to stand. He tried to force her back onto the bench before she humiliated him in front of one of the most stunning people he’d seen in months.

She wiggled free and dashed out towards her.

His life was over. For a moment it flashed in front of his eyes.

… Less of it should have been spent buying food for the woman who was about to be listed as his cause of death!

He scrambled after her. “Maya no!”

“Oh my god! You look so good! Your makeup is on Point!”

“Uh.” She raised the tennis ball stick between her and Maya hiding behind it like a tiny ineffective shield. Face blossoming red. “T-Thank you?” She squeaked out. Her eyes flickered nervously.

Silver. Even her eyes where silver starlight.

He shoved Maya’s head down in an apology bow. “I am SO sorry about her.”

Straighten.

She was taller than him in those heels. Just an inch or three.

His little bi heart was going to give out.

“I-it’s fine.” She laughed airily. Hand grasping at the crook of her elbow as she stared pointedly away.

That felt… Familiar.

“I’m jealous how well you pull that outfit off!”

Her dog trotted right up between them and sat down firmly in front of her. Leaning into her legs and thighs.

Her hand released and buried itself in the thick fur of their fluffy mane.

“We… We should be going.” She fumbled for the leash holstered like Franziska’s whip at her hip.

“Miles?”

She- he – They? Flinched.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“What?! You don’t have to!”

“Don’t run!” He begged hands splayed out wide. Miles looked very much like they wanted to run. “Fuck I’m sorry we won’t tell anyone!”

The hand twitched. Almost to the leash. The dog whined.

Both hands were buried in their mane.

“Did you just curse?” Maya stared at him wide eyed like she’d just found an even better target. Deflated slightly at his and Miles face. Forcibly brightened and clapped her hands together. “What’s your dogs name?”

“… Pess.”

“Aren’t you the handsomest little man Pess? What a sweet puppy!”

“Pess is a lady.”

“The prettiest lady!” Maya immediately began to coo.

He rubbed the back of his neck staring off at the tree line. “Like… You?” He tried to ask.

“Ngh… Not… Not as such no.”

“Oh. O-okay. I mean- it’d be fine if you were! You really do make a pretty lady!”

Fuck.

“Yeah Nick couldn’t stop staring at you!”

MAYA.

“Is… that right?”

He chuckled nervously. “Haha. Maybe? Uh would we… Talk?”

“I… suppose.”

“Can I throw the ball for your dog then?”

“Ah.” He looked at the stick. Handed it to her. “Sure.”

They sat on the bench. Miles tucked the tail of the dress under them. Long fingers splayed on their thighs.

“Sooo… Um.”

“If you’re going to laugh just do it already. Go on. Laugh!”

“…”Miles turned their face away as they spit out the demand. His chest clenched for entirely different reason. “My pronouns are he him?” He tried. The fingers eased slightly as Miles turned and peered at him through those silver bangs. “What are yours?”

There was a long pause as Miles studied him. Face dropped back to their thighs. “He him is fine. Although I do not object to they them in private.”

“Does now count as private?”

“Well I certainly don’t want you using he him right now.”

“Got it.” He threw an arm over the bench and stared at them. Even more breathtaking up close. It was unfair Miles got to be hot in all the genders. He could barely manage the one. “So is this like. A hobby?”

“No not. I enjoy dresses and skirts in a gender defying way not. As crossdressing.” They stared down at their manicured fingers. “The extent of this presentation is…”

He waited for Miles to continue. Pressed when they didn’t. “Is?”

Miles raised their chin. “Someone in my position can’t be seen wearing these sorts of things. I don’t appreciate the attention I receive from merely being openly gay. Much less gender non-conforming.”

“Yeah no I totally get that- I mean you’re a private guy- person? – to begin with. Totally fine!”

There was a weak smile. They tugged on their sleeve. “There is another benefit…”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m not a high ranked prosecutor like this. There are no eyes watching me.” Yeah I don’t think that’s true in the slightest. “No tabloids itching to catch the demon prosecutor doing something distasteful or vengeful people hoping for a moment to come yell at me. I’m not ‘Prosecutor Edgeworth’ so… I can relax.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Squished his face further into the crook of his arm. “Guess that makes sense.” They stared out at the park. Watching Maya pretend to throw the ball for Pess. Shoulders loose and relaxed. Screw it. “Miles.” He tacked on just half a second too late.

The shoulders pulled up and that red tint returned. Red really was their color. “W-What are you?”

“You’re not Prosecutor Edgeworth right now right? So you’re Miles. Isn’t that right?”

The blush climbed their cheeks up to their ears. “No, you’re Wright.”

“Not right now I’m not. Right now I’m Phoenix.” He stared up through the lashes of his eyes at his childhood best friend. All red and silver starlight. “And I’m sitting on the bench with the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

Holy shit! That was almost smooth! That’ll never happen again! It’s so good were sitting down or else I’d have tripped on my shoes and face planted as universal karma for that!

Miles twisted away. Hand coming up to cover their face. He could still see their ears burning red.

“Me too.” Miles mumbled.

“Huh?” He lifted his head slightly. Cocked it.

“The bench. That’s true for me too.”

“Uh. Wha?” The bench?

I’m sitting on the bench with the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.

He fell to the ground. All the blood collecting in his face. “Wha- You- You can’t just!”

Miles turned. A teasing smirk pulling at his face. “Oh haven’t you heard Phoenix?” Fuck. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

Bastard. He grinned. Bastard.

Turnabouts fair play.

#miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumistu #wrightworth #pess is the bestest girl #and also miles edgeworth he/him they/them solidarity #i too wish to be masculine but in a distinctly queer way

[writerwithtoomanyships]

Summary: The sides do a Secret Santa... fluff and mild chaos ensue

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP, Dukeceit/Demus, Logicality, Prinxiety

Warnings: A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts at the beginning, and some Remus being Remus

Genre: Fluff fluff fluff!

Credit:

@multi-fandoms-posts - Thanks for the suggestion! I took some creative liberties but this is based on a suggestion they gave me.

@voltsm - Thanks for the encouragement! This person is an INCREDIBLE artist, I highly recommend looking at their amazing amazing blog!

A/N: This is the first Sanders Sides one shot I've written in a while, but I think it turned out well! Please don't repost on different websites, but reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Remus paced his room, growling in frustration. His mind wandered back to the conversation all the sides had earlier.

"Let's do a Secret Santa!" Patton had said, looking like he was going to burst from excitement.

Roman nodded enthusiastically. "That's a great idea, padre!"

"I'm up for it if you guys are," Virgil replied with a shrug.

"I do believe that doing a Secret Santa could be beneficial to our mental and emotional health," said Logan, pushing up his glasses.

All of them looked at Janus and Remus, catching both of them off guard.

"You'd really be okay with us joining?" Remus asked.

"Of course! We are famILY, after all!" Patton responded happily. Remus looked at Janus, who simply shrugged.

"I think the Secret Santa is an awful idea and wouldn't like to participate," Janus said with a small smirk.

"Why not!" Remus happily agreed.

Yet here he was now, flopping on his bed, and ironically out of ideas. He summoned something to eat, and wasn't sure if it was deodorant, a sandwich, or some ungodly abomination of both. At this point he didn't care.

He stared at the faint strip of paper labeled "Janus." Each of them had grabbed a paper from Janus's hat, and Remus had been pretty excited when he got the name of his best friend. Until he couldn't figure out what to get him.

"I'm CREATIVITY, and I've been his friend the longest! I should know what to get him!" he angrily muttered to himself. "Who am I kidding... I'm just intrusive thoughts."

"Hey Rem-" Roman said, rising up in his brother's room. He instantly stopped when he saw the poorly disguised bags under Remus's eyes. "...you okay?"

"Not really," Remus mumbled into his blankets, "why'd you come?"

Roman paused for a second. "Wellll I was having some trouble coming up with a gift for the person I got, so I was wondering if you could help. However, it looks like your having some trouble too."

Remus looked up at Roman, noticing the bags he had under his eyes as well.

"Creative block," they both muttered at the same time.

Remus laughed for the first time in days. "Wow, even the creativity gets it," he said with a teasing smirk.

"I think you mean creativities. We are both creativity, after all!" Roman happily replied. He began ranting about something he was trying to make, but Remus didn't hear a word.

Both creativity, he thought as he began to smile again, he thinks we're both creativity?

"Rem? Remus?" Roman asked.

"Oh, sorry! What'd you say? Remus asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"What should I get Virgil?" Roman asked again.

"Virgil?"

"Yeah, Gerard Gay isn't the best at dropping hints at what he wants."

"Hm... what do you know he likes? Put yourself in his shoes. Or his-"

"MUSIC HE LIKES MUSIC!" Roman quickly interrupted. "He likes listening to music!"

Remus laughed a loud, full, laugh, making Roman smile and laugh a little as well. "If you were Virgil, what would you want?"

Roman pondered the question for a couple minutes, then suddenly shot up with an idea. "OH! I KNOW WHAT TO GET HIM! Thanks Remus!"

"No problem Roman, just remember to-" Remus began, then looked at Roman who narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "toooooo... wish him a Merry Christmas!"

"Nice save," Roman chuckled, making Remus beam. "Do you want some help figuring out what to give who you have?"

Remus sighed, mumbling a tired "I don't know," into his pillows.

"Hm... well just remember what you told me," Roman said, "what would you want if you were them?" Remus opened his mouth with a mischevious smirk, to which Roman added, "rule of thumb, if you wouldn't want Patton to get mad or pass out, don't give it as a gift." Remus immediately shut his mouth.

Remus sighed and groaned into his pillow, exhausted from having no ideas.

"Let's see... you can make things, summon things-" Roman started.

"Wait, summon things, like animals?" Remus asked.

"Of course! If you wanted to, that is. Although I'd suggest not making it lethal," Roman replied with a smile.

Remus grinned. "Thanks Ro, I think I have an idea!"

"That's great! Let me know if you'd like any help!"

"Thanks!"

Remus smiled to himself as Roman left, carefully working on his idea for Janus. He was certain it would be amazing.

~CHRISTMAS DAY~

"CHRISTMAS, CHRISTMAS, CHRISTMAS!" Patton excitedly shouted, waking everyone up in the process.

Patton had insisted on a sleepover on Christmas Eve, and none of them had the heart to deny the request.

Virgil yawned, failing to hide the small smile on his face as he noticed Roman stretch, hair messily falling down on his face.

"Nice bedhead Princey," Virgil teased.

Roman playfully glared, clutching his heart as if in agony.

"Why, Emo Nightmare, must you wound me like this? How could you DARE insist that, I, PRINCE Roman, have a-" he tilted his head back dramatically, causing him to see his reflection in a mirror and let out a very un-prince like squawk.

"I'll make the hot cocoa and then we can do the Secret Santa!" Patton exclaimed, rushing to the kitchen.

"I can assist you Patton," Logan offered, putting on his glasses.

"Thanks Logie!" Patton replied, making Logan blush at the nickname.

Remus and Janus slowly woke up as well, both a little excited although hesitant admit it.

"Well, this is not how I wanted to be woken up," Janus mumbled to himself with a soft smile on his face, oblivious to a blushing Remus looking at him. When he looked back and saw Remus staring at him, a faint blush spread behind his scales.

"Hey Janus, there's chaos and I didn't cause it!" Remus said, turning away to hide his blush.

"I'm not surprised, and I don't think you'll add to the chaos as soon as you can-" Janus began, only to see Remus already gone and probably eating something inedible.

After the chaos had died down (Roman brushed his hair and they dragged back Remus from eating Christmas lights), it was finally time for the Secret Santa to begin.

"Me first!" Patton said, rushing to grab the gift he had gotten. As soon as he found it he ran back to put it in Logan's lap. "This is my Secret Santa gift to you!"

"Do... do they know what a SECRET Santa is supposed to be?" Janus whispered to Remus who was sitting next to him, raising an eyebrow.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Logan carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside were multiple sci-fi series that he had been looking for.

"I knew you had been looking for those books, so I got them for you!" Patton exclaimed, voice nearly shaking from excitement.

For a moment, Logan was stunned into silence. However, he quickly recovered and replied with "t-thank you Patton, I deeply appreciate the thought put into this. I look forward to reading them."

Patton quietly peeped a quick "you're welcome," butterflies in his chest from the touched look on Logan's face. Logan suddenly turned back around, handing a small wrapped gift to Patton. "It's not the best, but I hope it's satisfactory."

Patton quickly looked up, momentarily caught up in the euphoria of gifts. He tore into the present to find a small, blue, crotche cat with a tiny heart on it's ear.

"Aww, Logan!!! This is purrrr-fect!"

Logan tried to roll his eyes at the pun, but couldn't keep a small laugh from escaping.

"Me next!" Roman sang dramatically, heading over to Virgil with a carefully wrapped gift and taking a seat next to him.

Virgil carefully opened his gift, slowly taking off the tape and removing the wrapping paper. Roman bounced up and down next to him, both in nervousness and excitement.

After what felt like forever to Roman, Virgil pulled out a dark purple set of headphones, with a black thorn pattern carved into them.

"Woah Princey... did you MAKE these?" Virgil asked, completely in shock at the care put into the headphones he held.

"Yep!" Roman responded giddily. "It took a lot of time, but I figured it out! The thorns were a last minute touch though. Oh! And they also block out other sounds, you had mentioned that your current headphones didn't do that a while ago."

Virgil, one of the most reserved sides, looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Thanks... I didn't realize you cared that much Roman," he said quietly, hiding his blushing face in his sleeves and gently leaning against him.

Roman gave him a soft, genuine smile as Virgil leaned against his arm. "Of course Stormcloud!"

"This is your present... it's awful compared to the headphones though..." Virgil mumbled, shyly taking his head out of his hands and giving Roman a shiny red bag with lots of tissue paper.

Roman being Roman, he quickly (and messily) opened up the gift, squealing when he pulled out a thin but elegant red crown. "It's a CROWN, put it on me, put it on me, put it on me!"

Virgil hesitantly put it Roman, who squealed impossibly louder after turning around and seeing his reflection in the mirror. "I love it!!!"

Roman hugged Virgil tightly, and after the initial shock, Virgil relaxed into the hug. To Roman's surprise, he stayed leaning against him even when the hug had ended. He didn't mind.

"Since it isn't obvious who your gift is from now, here's yours Remus," Janus said, handing a rather large bag to Remus.

Remus immediately tore into the bag, clawing his way in through the side instead of taking out the tissue paper. He gasped in astonishment when he pulled out a long, intricate sword, identical to the one of his logo.

"Woahhhh..." he whispered under his breath, admiring the sword. He looked up at Janus, a huge grin on his face. "Thanks!!"

Janus smiled, secretly relieved that Remus did enjoy his gift.

"I have your gift... I just didn't really have a way to wrap it," Remus said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "So, uh, hold out your hands and close your eyes."

"Remus, is this something appropriate?"

"Yep!"

Janus raised an eyebrow but did as Remus had asked. A second later, he heard a collective gasp from around the room, followed by something placed in his hand.

"You can open your eyes now."

Janus slowly opened his eyes, shocked to find a small, yellow snake that fit in the palm of his hand. His eyes widened, and for a brief second his face shone like the universe had been placed in his eyes.

"You like it?" Remus asked.

Janus nodded vigorously, at a loss for words but as absolutely adoring the snake that slithered in his hand.

After opening the rest of the gifts, all the sides stayed together for a Christmas movie night. Patton was asleep on a dreaming Logan, and Virgil was asleep against a sleepy Roman who wrapped his arms around him.

"Hey, Janus?" Remus asked, yawning.

Janus looked over.

"Did... did you really like my gift?"

Janus smiled a true, genuine smile, reserved oy for Remus, and kissed Remus's forehead softly, making them both blush. "I loved it."

As Remus soon fell asleep against Janus, the slimey snake boi only had one thought.

Rigging the Secret Santa was definitely worth it.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fluff #demus fluff #Logicality fluff #prinxiety fluff #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #fluff #fluff fluff fluff #hope this is satisfactory! #christmas sides

[aclosetfan]

This is titled Please CW Please I’m Out Here Begging

Summary: idk an au where they’re obviously way older and Princess betrays Blossom, but I make it gay? There be kissing and shit, so like minors beware. I wrote this instead of studying for a final I’m absolutely screwed for. It’s princess x blossom which is a very very good pairing Im hoping CW gives me. Drabble. Only written because girls and kisses amiright?? This doesn’t have a plot, this isn’t coherent, but we’re all here anyway, so lets slap a WIP on this and call it a day.

--------------------------

Blossom blinked awake with a groggy groan. Everything must have hurt, given how beat up she looked. She lifted her head up and, with a puff of breath, tried to move her hair out of her face. The simple act had her moaning in pain. There was a slight pause when she moved her hands, and then a frantic panic as she figured out her hands were pinned and tied behind her back.

Princess watched from the shadows of the dinky, dark room with slight amusement. It was interesting seeing Blossom look so frantic, unsure, worried. It was a stark contrast to the composed way the taller girl tended to carry herself. However, Princess supposed if she had woken up alone and tied to a chair in a dirty room, she'd feel a little panicked too.

She stepped forward, and Blossom's head shot up, trying her best to look around the room for the noise source, and Princess couldn't help but chuckle.

"You look pathetic." She mused out loud, her high heels making a loud, echoing clicking noise against the uneven and mysteriously wet basement floor. The single lightbulb that hung above Blossom cast eerie, ominous shadows on the walls as she stood before the other girl.

"Princess," Blossom breathed, her shoulders sagging in relief as she took her in, "you're okay."

"Were you worried?" She hummed, stepping closer to Blossom and smoothing away the hair that had fallen in front of her face.

"Of course," Blossom smiled, leaning into her hand, and the tiny fraction of her heart that was still just a little bit good and wholesome broke. Princess had never seen such genuine and earnest tender relief directed at her before, and she willed herself not to cave. She willed herself not to crave it.

Blossom's eyes scanned her up and down, likely looking for any physical affliction, "Are you hurt? Did they…did they touch you?"

She felt the corner of her mouth quip up in amusement, "No, no, they did not."

Again, Blossom sagged with relief, "Good, I'm glad."

"Why?" She asked, teasing, "Jealous?"

Blossom snorted, shaking her head, "No. Relieved. I don't think I could live with myself, knowing I let them hurt you. I know what people do to pretty girls, Princess."

"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" She asked with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

It was funny how Blossom, all-powerful and all-knowing Blossom, could blush under the circumstances she was in. Princess almost opened her mouth to save Blossom the embarrassment, but she beat her to the punch.

"I think you're beautiful, Princess." Blossom admitted, with the same tender, earnest tone as before, "I know you don't believe me, but I do."

Again, a part of her broke, but she pushed the feeling far away. Instead, she rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I bet you say that to every girl you've been kidnapped with."

Blossom's eyes flinted across her face before bouncing back around the room, and a frown tugged on her lips, "Caught me."

Princess grabbed her by the chin and brought her attention back to her, "What are you looking for?"

"You're awful demure given the circumstances." Blossom's eyes snapped back to hers as she avoided the question.

"Very perceptive."

"I'm assuming you know a way out then."

"I know the way out, yes." She nodded.

"But you haven't untied me." Blossom further observed.

"I haven't." She nodded again.

"And you're still in the same dress I last saw you in. Not hurt. Not dirty." Blossom's eyes scanned her again, regarding the pristine sparkling white cocktail dress she was wearing, the skirt of which was cut high on both sides up to the top of her thighs, which was an intentional part of the dress's design that Princess had caught Blossom staring at most of the night.

"Correct again, Sherlock."

There was a long-suffering sigh as Blossom's eyes trailed slowly back up to hers, and a weak smile found its way on her face, "So, from what I'm gathering, I should assume that you'll be breaking my heart tonight, won't you?"

Princess didn't answer right away, choosing instead to straddle herself on Blossom's lap. She stared into Blossom's pretty pink eyes as she casually wrapped her arms around the other girl's neck. She pressed them flush together, so close she could feel Blossom's every breath.

"Really, Blossom," She huffed, dragging a hand through the other girl's red locks, getting her fingers twisted in its curls, "do you have to be right about everything?"

Blossom's breath hitched, but much to Princess's disappointment, that was her only reaction. So together they sat there, and Princess took the time to memorize every little detail of her face.

"But tonight's not here yet," she heard herself whispering, too softly betraying something too intimate, "so don't hate me so soon."

"Who said anything about hating you?" Blossom murmured back, and Princess leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

She took her sweet time melding them into the kiss, and to Blossom's credit as a superhero, she made a good-faith effort at resisting. Finally, however, when Princess slide her hands from Blossom's shoulders to cup her face, Blossom relented, eyes fluttering close as her mouth tentatively pushed back. It was so soft and sweet, for a moment, Princess thought about letting her go safe and sound, but she wasn't a complete idiot, so she enjoyed the little time she had left with the girl under her.

Her thumbs traced soothing circles on Blossom's cheeks and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. Blossom responded without hesitation, kissing Princess in a way that left her almost breathless, but she wasn’t going to give Blossom the satisfaction and let her know. It only figured Blossom was perfect in this regard too—hot and needy under her. Always and forever perfect and hers. Princess allowed herself to smile, biting down on Blossom's lower lip as she slowly pulled away. Her smile widened as Blossom's eyes fluttered back open to watch her do so, and the other girl made a poor attempt at masking a heady moan.

She let go of Blossom's lower lip after a moment and leaned back down to plant another soft kiss on Blossom’s swollen lip, sucking and soothing the bite mark she had just left.

Too soon—way too soon—there was a commotion above them, and Princess broke away from Blossom as voices began to make their way down into the basement of the parking garage she had her henchmen drag Blossom into.

"Ugh, really, too bad," she sighed with a teasing whine, tilting Blossom's chin up with a finger, "a little more time, and we could have had some real fun together."

"I trusted you," Blossom whispered; her breathless heartbreak evident in her tone.

Princess looked down at Blossom and enjoyed the way her lipstick had smeared onto the other girl's mouth before she smiled sharply at her, "That's not my problem." She leaned back down and trailed a series of kisses up Blossom's jaw until she reached her earlobe, where she pressed her mouth hot and breathy against Blossom's ear. "I'm the bad guy," she whispered, not ignoring the way Blossom shivered underneath her, "remember?"

#drabble #wip wed #ppg fic drabble #ppg princess #princess x blossom #my writing #long post #sorry for like not having a plot just a vague vague idea of one #cw plz #no page break but let me know if it needs one #i just think it's too short for one

[ali-kitkat]

What’s a Sham? Our Childhood - Childhood Friends AU Ch2

First  

AO3

She loved him.

How was he supposed to process that? That was something for him to sort out, later. Especially with the glee in his brothers’ eyes. Except that statement kept replaying over and over in his mind; he couldn’t think of anything else but her words.

She loved him.

He knew he had feelings for her, but he never opened that box when he was with the League or after he came to live with his father.

With the League, he never opened it because it was a weakness, and weaknesses were exploitable. He was close with her when they sparred but any other time, they acted indifferent. Their sparring matches were never supervised. It was odd that they weren’t, but they never thought much of it. They agreed to never speak to each other unless their guardians commanded them to.

The only times Marinette had ever shown emotion was when they sparred. The first time she had shown any emotion other than concentration in a fight was when he brushed off her feelings of Sabine’s words about her father, she had lost control during the fight and had beaten him into a corner until he apologized for his impudence. The second was after they were each told to kill the other.

While living with his father he never thought about her because he wasn’t sure if she was alive. He was hopeful about it, but the doubt he had made him more cynical on the days he thought of her. His brothers learned to avoid him on those days, it had taken them time to realize that. Especially on the anniversary of Slade’s attack.

He’d drawn her once, and immediately stashed the portrait away. He couldn’t bear to look at it, there were a cacophony of emotions it elicited, and he didn’t know how to handle them. Jason had found it once and asked about the girl. He didn’t have the courage to talk about who Marinette was to him. All he did was rip the portrait from the offending hands and burn it.

He was pulled from his thoughts when someone flicked him on the forehead. When he glanced around, his brothers were all pointing at Marinette. Which was rather pointless as her expression gave her away, it was one of perfectly schooled innocence. It never fooled him though.

He didn’t bother glaring at her, she would’ve been unphased after spending four years ignoring it and sending the same glare back. He sighed exasperatedly so, which prompted muffled laughter from his brothers. Grayson, the closest to him earned a jab to the ribs for his suggestive eyebrows. He himself received a sigh of disappointment from his father and another flick on the forehead from Marinette.

“Marinette.” He said, voice low and glaring at her. This time to send a warning.

“Marion, actually.” She replied.

“What?”

“My name is Marion Agreste, best not to get confused when my class is around.” She explained. “I can easily say you’re an old friend who knows me by my nickname Mari, but my class knows me as Marion or as the Ice Princess.”

There was a snort from behind them. They all turned to see the two blondes from before with amused expressions on their faces.

“Mari, you’re just full of surprises.” The boy spoke.

“Of course, she is Adri.” The girl replied, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “She’s magic or have you forgotten how she saved your ass from the harpy?”

“Chloe don’t be mean to him. You know he can’t help it. The hairspray from all those photoshoots always go to his head, killing his braincells in the process.”

The boy, Adrien Agreste he recognized, was gaping; opening and closing his mouth trying to think of a response to the insult Marinette had thrown at him. His brothers weren’t even trying to hide their laughter. Adrien had regained his bearings and shrugged Chloe’s arm off of him and scowled.

Chloe had rested her hand dramatically on her heart. “Of course, it’s just made worse by the class’s incessant need to pull him away from his sister. You’re his Jiminy Cricket after all.”

“Okay, one this is uncalled for, how dare the both of you gang up on me like this. Two, are you going to introduce us to your friend Mari?” Adrien badgered. Mari glared at him and flipped him the bird.

“Oh, dearest brother of mine, go fuck yourself.” She sassed. “If you must know, he’s an old friend.” She repeated his words from earlier making him and Drake laugh. Adrien looked quite affronted at her response. Jason snorted as his Father muttered something about children that he didn’t quite catch.

“Wait, before you maim your brother. How did you end up with the Agrestes and in Gotham of all cities?” He asked, gesturing to her friend and brother. “How much do they know? About you and where you came from?”

His father cleared his throat and glanced around. “How about you move this conversation from a public place to a conference room, this isn’t something I’d like to have spread around. I’m certain photos have already been taken of us, none of us are exactly low profile.”

Nodding their heads in agreement they headed to one of the secure conference rooms on the ground floor.

“Adrien and Chloe know who I am. You remember Slade’s attack fairly well I’m assuming. Sabine helped him, I’m sure you knew already that.” She started, her eyes hardened, and she glared at a spot on the wall. “Sabine never bothered to check on me during the attack. Not to mention since Ra’s loyalists were going to be instantly killed, I didn’t know whether or not I was safe. I went with the assumption Sabine was probably going to kill me herself.”

Mari had refused to sit; Adrien and Chloe had settled next to each other in seats closest to her. He refused to sit as well, standing beside her too. Glancing around he could see that Dick was sitting on the edge of the table with Bruce and Tim sitting in chairs across from the blondes, and Jason leaning against the wall behind them, watching the scene.

“You believe she would’ve killed you?” Adrien asked in disbelief. From a glance he could see the boy was horrified and clutching onto his friend’s hand.

“She killed her grandfather, the last Guardian before her, who had the box. What would stop her from killing her own daughter?” She let out a bitter laugh. “She knew that I would’ve killed for Damian, she instilled that in me herself. I ran partly to try and find you, but Talia’s men found me first and since it was revealed that Sabine helped Slade in his coup, I was to be killed. Especially since she never liked me either.”

She gave him a wry look and lifted her bangs showing off a scar. “I defended myself admirably, our training together paid off, but five against one isn’t quite even odds. The room for the miracle box was nearby and I entered, since I couldn’t find you and I decided my death wasn’t going to be decided by people who didn’t care about me I used what I had to escape.”

“I don’t blame you for that, you’re right. Talia would’ve killed you. I don’t know how I would have responded, especially since she told me you helped Sabine in the coup.” He said. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand gave it a small squeeze. “I had a lot of mixed feelings. I knew you wouldn’t have done that, but the love I had for Talia at that time was at war with my feelings for you.”

“Thank you, Damian.” She paused for a moment and squeezed his hand in return. “Well, I ended up Paris after using one of the miraculous. I was clutching the box, wandering around I stumbled upon a photoshoot in a park. Emilie Agreste saw me first and she was livid. She wanted to know what happened and why I looked like I came out of a war zone, I wasn’t a pretty sight. I lied, obviously, and said I didn’t remember much except that my mother was the cause of it and that I didn’t know anything else, not exactly a lie.”

This time instead of another bitter laugh, she sighed. It was one of exhaustion and acceptance. “She walked up to Gabriel and told him what I said, verbatim, and that was that. They called contacts, falsified a few documents and here I stand as Marion Agreste. A child they found with severe PTSD and amnesia who doesn’t remember her childhood. Emilie and Gabriel don’t know who I am exactly, but they do know that I lied to them, they understood why I did.”

“Now as to how I’m here in Gotham actually has to do with the fact that Adrien wanted to go to school and Chloe wanted him to as well.” She snickered. “Chloe wanted Adrien to go to school and tried to bargain with Gabriel. If Adrien wanted to go to public school so badly, I had to attend with him. Emilie didn’t want to keep Adrien in the house as he really didn’t have the most social upbringing. His social cues are shit.”

“They are not!” Adrien defended. Both Mari and Chloe gave him a knowing look and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Adrien sweetie, when I first met Mari you thought we should just get along because we were both girls.” Chloe replied, eliciting varying laughs of amusement.

“And when Chloe told us about Lila you asked what was so bad about a stretched truth.” Mari chimed in. “Then Lila mentioned she was dating you and you replied that you were gay. Now when Lila tried to cozy up to you when we started public school you shouted you were gay.”

Adrien winced looking thoroughly cowed. “Alright you’ve made your point, please stop calling me out like this.”

“Wait, why did you have to attend with him?”

Adrien started to laugh while Chloe smirked at Mari. She had groaned and refused to look at anyone else in the room.

“In my defense, I thought someone was going to hurt Adrien.” She started. “It was a little bit after Emilie and Gabriel had gotten the legal things sorted out. I went with them to Adrien’s next photoshoot in the park. While Adrien was taking a break, someone came up to him and dragged him off for a selfie. Adrien looked startled and –”

“Her solution was to remove their arm from my body and twist it so far behind their back it was dislocated. Father decided that Mari was the best bodyguard for me because she’s tiny and unassuming.” Adrien interrupted, having finally gained some composure. 

*~*~*~* 

i can’t recall if anyone asked to be tagged in this, but i’m not sure about making a taglist for this one if i do it’s going to be limited to maybe thirty or so people. 

this one isn’t beta read so if there’s anything wrong just comment and i’ll come back and fix it. probably. 

#maribat #daminette #slowburn daminette #damimari #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #ml/dc crossover #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #ali-kitkat's writing #my writing #evil!sabine au

[kaleidoscopeminds]

Get on your dancing shoes, there’s one thing on your mind

having some feelings about missing gigs this evening and this is a thing that occurred? tiny fluffy gig lashton for @tirednotflirting as she dutifully listens to me complain about the lack of live music in my life. This scenario is based on something that actually happened to me, but unfortunately there was no Ashton in that turn of events.

Title from Dancing Shoes by Arctic Monkeys because what else?

“Okay then turn left at the end of that road,” Michael says down the phone to Luke, who has it cradled in his shoulder as he clutches his umbrella and squints into the dark.

“Yeah, okay I can see where I’m going now, I’ll ring you back when I’m outside,” Luke responds. “See you in a sec.”

“Bye!” Michael calls down the line before hanging up.

Luke sighs and stuffs his phone back in his pocket, hunching his shoulders up against the rain. He’s a little annoyed by the evening already, having to get a train and then a bus to Michael’s boyfriend’s house (Calum, he keeps having to remind himself) and once again wonders why he agreed to come along.

“Look I’m saying we can go, I’m just saying that Calum wants to come too,” Michael had shrugged at him.

“But Mikey, gigs are our thing,” Luke had responded petulantly. He knew he was being childish but his best friend agreeing to go to see a band with his new boyfriend instead of him was not news that he wanted to hear.

“They still are,” Michael had responded, rolling his eyes a little. “We’re going together, Calum will just be there as well.”

“But then I’ll have to third-wheel you all evening,” Luke had whined, frowning.

Michael had laughed, “It’s funny, because Calum said the exact same thing about the two of us. Now stop being a big baby and buy your ticket.”

That’s how Luke had found himself a month later, trudging in the rain to Calum’s flat, because it was only a short bus trip to the venue from there. He did honestly like Calum, he was quiet but wickedly funny and clearly smitten with Michael, he just didn’t know why he also had to like the same music as the two of them. He sighed to himself again and looked up at the flats in front of him and pulled out his phone again to call Michael, resigning himself to an evening of standing next to the happy couple.

X

“Can we go down?” Luke said excitedly, sipping his drink and bouncing on his toes.

“I think we’re gonna stay up here,” Michael responded, shrugging. “Better view.”

“What?” Luke asked, frowning. “We never stand at the back?”

“It’s just a bit busy,” Michael replied, shrugging.

Luke shook his head and sighed. “Okay fine but I’m going down there. I’ll see you at the end, give me a text if we can’t find each other.”

Michael nodded absently and turned to say something to Calum who was looking at his phone. Luke rolled his eyes and left the two of them to it, quickly going down the steps and beginning to squeeze his way through the crowd. He wanted to be right in with everyone, nothing comparing to the feeling of being in a crowd at a gig just before it starts, the hum in the air and the excitement fizzing at the tips of everyone’s fingers, almost palpable in the slightly sweaty beer scented air. He was also mindful of how tall he was though, not wanting to slap himself right in the middle where he would be a nuisance to everyone, so he skimmed the edge until he found himself a spot on the right hand side, with a good view of the stage.

“You’re a better door than a window aren’t you?” He heard a voice from slightly behind him to his right.

Luke turned around with an apologetic smile on his face but was met with a twinkling grin and a pair of hazel eyes glinting wickedly at him. 

Luke coughs embarrassed, “Yeah I know I’m sorry it’s the - ,” he gestures in a vague way towards his body.

“Stupidly long legs? Big blonde head? Ridiculously broad shoulders?” The man winks at him and Luke can’t help but notice how good looking he is, curly brown hair falling onto his forehead and a dimple in his chin as he smirks at Luke. He’s wearing a white short sleeve shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, showing off both a bit of chest hair and his tanned arms.

“Sorry,” Luke apologises again, blushing and giggling slightly. “Maybe I can buy you your next drink to make up for my big blonde head.”

The other man grins delightedly at him. “Now don’t tempt me. How about you budge over a bit so I don’t have to stand behind you?”

“I might be able to manage that,” Luke responds, shuffling over slightly in the small space. He hears a frustrated sigh from behind him when he inevitably blocks someone else’s view, but he just shrugs apologetically at them, he now has a bigger priority in the form of this hot man who may or may not be flirting with him. 

“I’m Ashton by the way,” The man says, holding his hand out in the small space between them.

Luke laughs at the formality and switches his cup to his other hand so he can shake Ashton’s hand. “Luke,” he responds.

“So Luke,” Ashton cocks his head slightly at him. “What brings you to this part of the floor with no friend or girlfriend in sight?”

“Unlikely to be a girlfriend I can tell you that much for free,” Luke snorts, he notices Ashton gets a pleased smile on his face when he hears this and files that away for later thought. “I came with my mate and his boyfriend and I have abandoned them being boring up there somewhere.” Luke jerks his head in direction of the back of the room.

Ashton laughs. “A serious third-wheel moment then?”

“Yes,” Luke replies disgustedly. “Even though I was assured it wouldn’t be.” 

Ashton laughs again, tilting his head back and giggling, and Luke thinks he might have fallen in love a little bit.

“What about you?” Luke asks. “What’s a guy like you doing lurking solo over here?”

Ashton smiles a little embarrassed and rubs the back of his head. “Was meant to be on a date, but the guy decided he didn’t want to come last minute. Thought it would be a waste to not come because I fucking love this band regardless.”

Luke laughs and notes Ashton’s deliberate use of “guy”. Interesting.

“Well I think you made the right decision,” Luke responds, smiling at Ashton and biting his tongue slightly.

Ashton’s eyes track the movement before coming back to meet Luke’s. “We’ll see about that I suppose,” he responds, returning the smile slowly. “In the meantime, I know you promised me a drink, but as you were so kind as to move over for me, what would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Luke responds, smiling. “I’ll save your space.”

“You better do,” Ashton winks and moves off through the crowd, brushing his hand around Luke’s hip and across the small of his back as he leaves. 

Luke watches him weave up towards the bar and manages to catch Michael’s eye who’s looking at him questioningly. Luke just shrugs at him, and Michael waves his phone at him pointedly before beginning to furiously type a message. Calum just smiles amused, and gives Luke a little wave, which Luke returns before fishing his phone out of his pocket just as it buzzes with a message from Michael.

whos that???

Ashton

who tf is ashton

Ashton is the nice man who’s date cancelled on him and is now buying me a drink

!!!! Is he gay????

…. Possibly (he suggested the date was with a man)

!!!!! he’s fucking hot luke

I know mikey i’ve got eyes

don’t fuck this up just be normal

what the fuck is that supposed to mean

just don’t be so luke

you’re not helping in the slightest here

he’s coming back act normal

you’re absolutely the fucking worst and i hate you so much

stop talking to me your new boyfriend is coming back

Luke sighs exasperatedly at his phone before locking it and shoving it back in his pocket as Ashton squeezes through the gap next to him and hands off the second cup he’s holding. Luke downs his current drink and slides the new cup into the empty one.

“Thanks,” he says, moving over slightly and noticing the space he was in has gotten significantly smaller.

“No problem,” Ashton says, wedging himself in the gap next to him. “Although you didn’t keep up your side of the bargain,” he says pointedly, wiggling his shoulders to bump against Luke’s in the narrow space. 

“Sorry,” Luke responds, smiling apologetically. “I got distracted.”

“Who said I was complaining?” Ashton replies, smirking. “Everything okay? You were really giving your phone a dirty look there.”

“Yeah it was nothing,” Luke shakes his head, but his eyes flick over to where Michael and Calum are standing, and Ashton follows his look. Michael is staring at them intently, but quickly pretends to be deep in conversation with Calum as soon as he sees Luke and Ashton looking at them. Luke hears Ashton laugh quietly and he blushes furiously.

“Were you talking about me?” Ashton teases, his twinkling grin back firmly in place.

“Don’t be so big-headed,” Luke responds, still blushing.

“That means yes,” Ashton says smugly, taking a sip of his drink and brushing his arm against Luke’s.

“Why would I be talking about you, I don’t know anything about you,” Luke says, raising his eyebrows.

“Well what would you like to know?” Ashton responds. “I’m an open book.”

“Uh, how old are you?” Luke asks and then sighs at himself at such an infantile question.

“Getting right to the important stuff straight away I see,” Ashton replies seriously before breaking out into a grin. 

“Stop making fun of me, I’m regretting standing in front of you now,” Luke says, pouting at him.

“Aw you don’t mean that Lukey,” Ashton says, placing a hand over his heart. Luke tries not to blush at the nickname (try being the operative word). “I’m 24,” Ashton adds, taking pity on Luke.

“22,” Luke responds, taking a sip of his drink. “And as we’re doing the boring stuff I’ve just graduated and currently work in a bar whilst I try to discover my true passion.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ashton responds, tapping his plastic cup against Luke’s. “I work in a record shop at the moment.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool to be fair,” Luke says honestly.

“Yeah it's not bad, not necessarily what I want to do forever though,” Ashton says ruefully.

“What do you want to do?” Luke asks, genuinely interested.

“Producing I think,” Ashton says thoughtfully, “but working in a record shop is as close as I’m gonna get for now.”

“See and you were worried we weren’t going to get to the important stuff,” Luke says, grinning cheekily at Ashton. 

Ashton laughs again and nudges his shoulder against Luke’s. “Yeah something about you has got me spouting about my ambitions within minutes.”

Luke bites his lip and ducks his head. He honestly can’t believe his luck managing to bump into and hold a conversation with Ashton, who seems unbelievably sweet and interesting. He’s saved from responding as the lights dim and people start cheering around him.

Luke squeaks and grabs Ashton’s wrist, bouncing on his toes as excitement flows through him, his heart rate picking up as he feels the crowd shift and pulse with anticipation, voices of enthusiasm and shouts beginning to ripple across the sea of people. The lights begin to flash and Luke can feel the energy thrum through the air. He catches Ashton smiling at him out of the corner of his eye and turns to face him with a huge smile on his face.

“What?” Luke has to almost shout over the growing noise of the crowd.

Ashton leans forward slightly. “You’re cute,” he says directly into Luke’s ear, making him shiver slightly before pulling back and tucking one of Luke’s curls behind his ear, smiling and turning towards the front. Luke stands for a moment, dazed before being pulled out of his reverie by the band appearing on stage, cheering loudly with everyone else.

X

The gig is insane, especially with Ashton at his side, singing the lyrics along with him, dancing stupidly in his favourite instrumentals and laughing every time Luke clutches his arm and shouts “I love this one!” In his ear.

And maybe when it goes dark after the band goes off and whilst the rest of the crowd chants for the encore, Luke might slide his hand in to Ashton’s and pull him closer to find his lips in the dark, breathless and skin slightly damp from all the dancing, mouths sticky with the taste of beer and ears still ringing. 

#fic #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic #lashton #lashton fic #I might write this into something properly at some point but this is just for my feelings this evening!!! #meg fic #apologies for errors it was a quick one!

[hydra-collector]

Let Me Go: Chapter 7

AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 8

Pairings: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: self-harm, homophobia mention

Words: 1,695

Summary: the sleepover, finally

“The best thing about homophobes is they don’t think their child’s gay unless they tell them.”

Remus and Logan were sitting on the floor of Remus’s bedroom, playing Speed. Logan was a master at card games, but he seemed to be being beaten.

“Last card, last card!”

They threw their hands up triumphantly as they placed a nine onto an eight Logan had just put down.

“Play again?”

“Re, you’ve beaten me like, six times so far. I’m not gonna win.”

“Mmm, fair.”

Remus put the cards together and pulled Logan over to the bed and close to them, sitting against it. He leaned against them, making himself shorter than them with how scrunched up he was.

“I’m terrible at cards.”

“Babe, the only card game I’ve beaten you in is Speed.”

“I guess. And, it’s only cards.”

“Yeah.”

He looked down, snuggling closer and closing his eyes. Remus held him by his torso, squishing him with his arms. Logan smiled, but it then turned into a frown as he began to sing, quietly.

“Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep, I’m tired and I, I want to go to bed… don’t feel bad for me, I want you to know… deep in the cell of my heart, I’ll feel so glad to go…”

“Lo?”

Logan hadn’t even realized he’d been singing.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, was I- sorry.”

“It’s okay,” they said, rubbing his shoulder. They had an idea and spoke again.

“Hey, what time is it?”

Logan checked his watch.

“12:13.”

“Perfect.”

They brought him and his wheelchair down the stairs with some difficulty, into the kitchen. They opened the freezer, digging through frozen goods until they found what they were looking for. They pulled out two tubs of ice cream, mint chocolate chip and strawberry.

“Whaddya think, Logie?”

“Either’s fine with me. Are you even allowed to have this?”

“Not really. How ‘bout both?”

Logan chuckled and rolled to the table, soft light illuminating his face.

Remus scooped two bowls and sat down across from their boyfriend.

“You really are beautiful, love.”

“I’d say the same about you, Remus, but you are mixing mint chip and strawberry ice cream.”

“Don’t judge my tastes.”

They continued eating their disturbing mixture.

Logan chuckled randomly, looking at his partner.

“What?”

“I was wrong. Even with strawberry and mint chocolate chip mixed together smeared across your face, you still manage to be gorgeous.”

Remus’s cheeks went pink, much like the chunks of strawberry still showing their color.

“You never know, mint chocolate strawberry could be the next big thing.”

Logan chuckled, welcoming a temporary silence. He watched his partner eat ice cream with their tiny spoon, seemingly attempting to get the hiccups. They slowed down and stopped for a moment.

“When we’re done, Lo,” they began, “I think we should clean up those… cuts. Will that be okay?”

It still surprised him to hear someone mention it outright.

“Yeah. Probably. I haven’t actually cleaned any cuts in months, it’d probably be good to do that. Especially today. Today wasn’t… the best.”

“I’ll brush my teeth so I can kiss you.”

Logan smiled slightly, reaching across the table to take their hand.

“If you never brushed your teeth again I’d still kiss you. But please do.”

“I can do what I wish with this knowledge.”

The pair finished eating and Remus made a point to wash the dishes, for even if they were not a clean person by any stretch of the imagination, they doubt their parents would react well to find empty bowls of something their kid wasn’t supposed to have.

“C’mon, the bathroom’s this way.”

They led him into the small bathroom lit unnaturally with LEDs and retrieved a washcloth along with a few other medical supplies.

“Um, how do you want to- if you could take your shirt off that’d make it easier. You don’t have to, obviously,”

“No, I… I probably should.”

He took a breath and pulled up his shirt to reveal the cuts on his stomach, and hesitated before pulling it over, past his arms. To Remus’s surprise, they were also spattered in red marks just as fresh as the ones on his stomach.

“Lo-”

“Yeah, I haven't been doing as good as I said I am. I’m sorry, Remus.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m glad you showed me. Can I?” They gestured to his cuts with the rag.

He nodded, and Remus went to work. They poured warm water and rubbed some soap into the washcloth, taking gently to the dried blood, stopping whenever he winced and waited for a few moments.

“Yknow,” Logan began, “it’s such an odd feeling. Having my arms and stomach showing. They’ve barely felt air except for when I’m… cutting, and especially with another person here…”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“Oh no, kind of the opposite. I feel comfortable with you. I’m glad there’s someone I can show without worry. I got so tired of never being able to hug you properly, too.”

“Oh my god, when I hugged you today, was it hurting you? Did it before?”

“Uh, I mean… yeah. But that was my fault. I mean, only the tighter hugs. The soft ones are nice.”

“I’ll give you the softest hugs every single day, love.”

“Mmm… I’m hoping I get one today.”

“When we’re done.”

They moved on to gently washing his arms, still being as careful as possible. Logan kissed Remus on the cheek.

“I’m trying to clean your cuts, you can’t just go around kissing me!”

“Mmm, but I can.” He kissed them on the lips this time, making them stumble backwards into the tub. Both began laughing as Remus returned to Logan’s wheelchair before realizing how loud they were.

“Shh,” Logan said, silencing them with a kiss, “we’re going to wake someone up.”

“I guess you’re right. I need to finish, anyway.”

Remus returned to washing Logan’s last arm, then rinsing his arms under the tub’s tap and his stomach with the washcloth.

They wrapped his arms with gauze and covered his stomach in it. He again kissed them until they blushed red and were reduced to the equivalent of a gay puddle. They looked to the closed toilet for a chair, but decided it was rather uncomfortable.

“I could always sit on your lap.”

Logan immediately looked down, anxiety showing in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Re,” he sounded as if he were on the brink of tears, ”it's just… normal. I don’t know how to stop. I swear I’m getting better-”

“Lo, it’s okay. Obviously I don’t want you to hurt yourself, but it’s okay if it’s hard. Though, judging on what you’ve showed me and told me- and if you did it on your legs as well- I think you need more help than you’re getting. Or- letting yourself get. I’m proud of you for trying. We’ll clean these up, and whenever you feel like you need to cut, tell me. Please.”

“I’ll- I’ll try.”

Logan rolled up his pants so Remus could treat those less serious wounds, and soon they were clean and covered in gauze as well.

He put his shirt back on and they returned to Remus’s bedroom. Remus picked up their boyfriend so they could sit on the bed together, Logan lying back to gaze at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Remus cuddled up to him, head resting on his chest.

“Actually, Remus, could I-”

He, with his partner’s assistance, sat up and began to pull off his shirt again, to Remus’s surprise. When he had, he guided his partner’s arms up so he could hug them around the middle.

“I haven’t really… properly touched anyone in too long.”

They hugged him back, making sure to avoid applying too much pressure. Logan let out a short sob, squeezing tighter and burying his head into their shoulder. He held on as if he was never going to let go.

“I love you, Remus. Thank you… for everything.”

“Of course, Lo-Lo.”

Logan nearly crumbled from the nickname, laughing and crying and kissing them.

“You do like it!”

“No- it’s dumb!”

“Exactly, love.”

“Re, don’t, don’t make me flustered-”

“That’s my job, babe. Fluster you and kiss your pretty face.”

“Re- you can’t-”

“But I can. Just like you can.”

Logan laughed, hands covering his face in a failed attempt to distract from his red cheeks. Remus went on kissing him, particularly on the nose.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“No I’m not!”

Remus leaned towards Logan, holding him with both arms and kissing his cheeks. Both fell over, laughing, Logan facing the plastic stars again. Remus’s head had fallen on Logan’s shoulder. After their laughter had subsided, they kept laying there, looking at the ceiling together.

Remus’s ears pricked up and they looked towards the door. Sure enough, it was footsteps. Logan heard it too, and pushed himself off the bed. He landed on pillows Remus had set out for him, which muffled the sound. Remus straightened themselves parallel to the bed, turning off the lamp.

Both were silent as whoever it was passing by approached, slowed, then continued at their original pace. Logan reached out his hand towards Remus, who took it and let it hang off the bed. Both blushed slightly, though neither could see.

“See? More fun this way, Lo.”

“If you call being scared your partner’s gonna get kicked out of their house fun, then sure.”

Remus rolled their eyes and helped Logan back onto their bed, laying the right way with him this time. They pulled the comforter over both of them, holding their boyfriend around his neck.

“This okay?”

Logan responded by pulling the comforter over their heads and wrapping his arms around them, kissing them in the pitch black. It was incredibly warm, but not in the uncomfortable or sweaty sense.

“I suppose it is, then.”

“I should probably leave, though.”

“You don’t have to, babe.”

“What if someone found us?”

“It’s the weekend. I wake up before my parents. They never come in my room anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, I’m not letting you go, so yes.”

They fell asleep that way.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #ts logan #ts remus #tw self harm #tw food #tw homophobia #card games #grays fics #let me go

[helenalikesbtsnow]

The Ongoing Struggles of Being A Mall Gay (Part 2/3)

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN or here on tumblr below the cut!

Summary: Hoseok works at Build-A-Bear and Yoongi works at the Orange Julius that gives them discounts. Warning for gratuitous overuse of American mall culture.

Part 1 (Tumblr Link)

***

Yoongi listens to rap music. He also really loves Slam Dunk. Hoseok doesn’t watch a lot of anime, or any at all really, but he adores the idea of Yoongi watching a basketball anime. He’ll watch it with him anytime he wants.

Hoseok doesn’t dare ask how old he is, because it’ll shatter the illusion. If he knows how old he is, it’ll only fuck things up. He doesn’t want to saddle anyone with the burden of dating him. Still, he just wants to sit on a couch with him and maybe cuddle him and watch Slam Dunk with him. Is that so much to ask?

Yoongi has started responding to texts in the group chat. This is more progress than they’ve made with anyone else they’ve tried to add to it. People always just remove themselves after a few weeks, so it’s beyond exciting for Yoongi to engage with them. It’s starting to seem like he might stick around and that is the best news ever. No longer six of them, they’ll have a seventh. That’s a perfect number for playing board games. Hoseok has been trying to host a board game night for months, but they all have busy schedules. It’s something that they have to plan for two weeks in advance so that Seokjin and Namjoon, the two who make the schedules, can coordinate.

“Do you like mafia?”

“The… the mafia?” Yoongi asks.

“No, like the game mafia. Not the actual mafia.”

Yoongi blinks at him a few times. “I don’t know what that is.”

Hoseok smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to play.”

“Are you going to order something or are you just harassing my coworker?” Jimin asks him teasingly. Hoseok shrugs. He supposes he could go for a smoothie right now.

“Sure, just make me whatever,” he says. Hoseok likes pretty much all of the smoothies at Orange Julius so he’s not picky.

“Yup,” Jimin says turning around to make him whatever. “Extra fruity because you’re gay.”

“That’s homophobic,” Hoseok says. Yoongi’s ears or heart or face or something turn a violent red. Hoseok is… gay? Which means that he… has the capacity… to like Yoongi? In a gay way? Well this isn’t going to be good for his poor little heartstrings.

Jimin gives him a glare. Yoongi starts to feel like an idiot in this moment. Namjoon and Seokjin: married. Jimin: openly gay. Taehyung: has that personality. Jungkook is… Jungkook. Jesus Christ. All of them are gay. Why didn’t that occur to him? Is he literally a victim to heteronormativity? He was so caught up in the fact that most people are usually straight that it didn’t even process in his brain that they all gravitated towards each other to form a mall family. Because they’re all gay. Wait… if they wanted Yoongi to join their ranks does that mean…?

“Wait – so all of you are gay,” Yoongi states. He doesn’t think that he means for the words to come out of his mouth. They just tumble out of him without his consent.

“Uh, yeah,” Hoseok nods. “Was that not clear?” Now he’s trying to determine what tone of voice Yoongi is saying that with. Please oh please don’t let this beautiful boy be a piece of shit. Hoseok will be heartbroken if someone as pretty as him is an asshole. It’ll break his heart in two. Now obviously, Namjoon isn’t allowed to fire anyone for their moral beliefs or complete lack thereof, but it will make things a little uncomfortable. But then again, Yoongi does work under Namjoon, a very transparently gay man, so if he was a homophobe, you’d expect that to have come out by now.

“Is that why you invited me to the group chat?” he asks. Hoseok makes an “oh” sound. That makes sense. He doesn’t give off any energy at all that suggests towards anything, gay, straight, or something outside or in between. But now that he’s looking at Yoongi, he understands the confusion.

“Oh,” Hoseok draws out the word for a long moment. “You too?”

“I keep telling you!” Jimin bursts out. “We’re magnets for the gays! I don’t know how this keeps happening!” Jimin has noted a few times how peculiar it is that the six of them gravitated together, completely ignorant of each other’s sexualities at the time until they had already been assimilated.

“This just means that Yoongi will stay, right? You’re not going to leave our family, right Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, looking brightly at him. Yoongi blushes and shakes his head. He’s pretty sure he looks like a strawberry right now from how embarrassed he is. Of course he isn’t going to leave their circle, he thinks they’re the most charming people he’s ever met. Especially Hoseok with his cute nose and energetic personality. “Oh my god, is this why we drive away everyone else? Why did that never occur to me, holy shit. Straight people think we’re weird!”

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“I think it’s because you’re you,” Jimin says brightly. “I wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

“I think you’re alright,” Yoongi says, and then has a look of sheer panic, which looks good on him in a bizarre way.

Hoseok’s not going to be okay. He’s going to combust from how much he likes Yoongi. Every little thing, ever last tiny thing, it’s perfect. If Hoseok were to create a boyfriend in a laboratory, not only would that boyfriend look a lot like Yoongi, but he’d also act the same. He doesn’t want a boyfriend who’s loud like him, because they’d annoy everyone and drive people away. He wants someone who can get invigorated when talking about the things he’s passionate for but is soft spoken and wise in casual conversation. He wants someone doesn’t sugarcoat their feelings and opinions. He wants someone who’s sarcastic and too smart for his own good. He wants someone exactly like Yoongi.

Also, Yoongi’s got those holes in his ears where piercings go when he’s not at work, and Hoseok is unreasonably turned on by that. Literally everyone he knows has a slew of earrings, but it’s way more attractive on Yoongi than anyone else. He wonders what Yoongi looks like when he’s not at work. Does he look like Jungkook, all black outfits and stomping boots? Or maybe like Seokjin where everything is three sizes too big? He can’t possibly dress like Taehyung who wears prints and styles that can’t ever look good on anyone except – miraculously – him. Call him vapid, but Hoseok cares a lot about fashion, and he just knows that Yoongi must look good in anything. He can make an ugly Orange Julius uniform look good, because he’s got that face, so surely, he must look like a million dollars in street clothes.

Hoseok absently looks over the counter, he tries to be subtle about it, but he checks Yoongi out. His pants don’t flatter him, but he must have toothpicks for legs based on what Hoseok can see. Hoseok could probably lift him, and he isn’t that strong. Jungkook could probably lift him with one hand.

The only problem is that Yoongi is too young. Why couldn’t he just be a few years older? Maybe if Hoseok were in his thirties and Yoongi was in his late twenties it wouldn’t be so bad, but he’d feel like a creep to date someone who’s barely out of their teens or still in college.

Yoongi catches his eye. Maybe he knows that Hoseok is looking. Maybe Yoongi can sense the change in the atmosphere now that Hoseok knows he’s gay. Maybe that’s why the look they share is so heavy. Yoongi shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful, yet there he is.

“Oh my god, I have a job,” Hoseok’s eyes bulge and then he turns around to run back to his store, not even bothering to take the smoothie that Jimin sets on the counter for him.

***

Hoseok walks through the definitely not haunted employee entrance of the mall. He has his apron over one arm, because it’s been a little too long since he last washed it. In his defense, he hates supporting the evil capitalism that is coin laundry machines.

He can’t prevent himself from thinking about Yoongi from earlier. This isn’t good news for him. Yoongi is gay, which means that hypothetically speaking, Hoseok could date him. Hoseok isn’t going to be able to scrub his brain of thoughts of Yoongi now. Yoongi might actually let Hoseok cuddle him to watch Slam Dunk if he were to ask, which he is not going to do because then he’d have to face the terror of being in a relationship.

As awful as it makes him sound as a person, he doesn’t want his first relationship in seven years to be with someone who he likes and respects so much. He’d rather get practice on someone who will be inconsequential to him. Then again, he doesn’t want to date someone that he’s not interested in, so he’s come to a standstill. Maybe he’ll just die alone. Ugh, that won’t work, because Hoseok really does need someone to sleep next to him at night, be his best friend, go on vacations with him, fuck him, cook dinner with him, watch movies with him, and have arguments over the dishes with.

He pushes the door open and is exposed to the summer night. The night is chillier than the day was, but it’s nothing you’d need to put on a layer for. The streetlamps lining the mall parking lot wash the world in a calm, yellow light. Someone nearby is having a bonfire or cookout, because the smell of wood burning is in the air, and it makes Hoseok hungry. Maybe he’ll stop by the store and get a nice cut of meat for dinner.

He considers this when he sees a familiar figure standing on the sidewalk a little way down from him. Hoseok approaches him, his face lit up with a faint blue light from his phone.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi turns to looks at him and gives him a half-there smile. “Hey, Hoseok.”

“What are you standing there for?”

“Oh, my Uber is like twenty minutes away still,” he says with a shrug. He turns to look back at his phone like he expects that to be the end of the conversation.

“What? No, fuck that. I’m your Uber driver now. But you don’t need to pay me,” Hoseok says, assuredly.

“No, it’s fine,” Yoongi says, waving off the suggestion.

“Um, yeah. I’m going to drive you. Cancel your driver so that you don’t get charged for it, come on.”

“Hoseok, you really don’t need to-”

“Yoongi, remember when I told you that we’re a family? That wasn’t for show, we really are like a family. I’m not going to have you paying for a ride when I have a car that will take you places. Now come on, I’m not going to argue with you about this.”

“It’s just… we barely even know each other.” At this point in their friendship, that doesn’t even seem like a very accurate statement. They’ve eaten lunch together a few times, and even if it only has been about a month and a half, that doesn’t mean that Hoseok doesn’t trust and care for him. Especially since he’s possibly crazy about him.

“Then we can get to know each other when I drive you home,” Hoseok says. “Are you scared of me? I promise I’m not scary, but if it seriously would make you uncomfortable, I’ll leave you alone. I just hate the idea of you standing out here by yourself, and I also hate making you pay for a ride when I’m here and I’m free.”

Yoongi sighs and looks down at his phone. “Alright.”

“Awesome!” Hoseok says, excitedly. He watches as Yoongi opens the app and cancels his driver, before he gestures for him to follow. “We’re going to become best friends, Yoongi. It’s a requirement. I’m pretty likeable, though, so it won’t be too difficult.”

He turns to look at Yoongi and sees the briefest of smiles on his face, this one genuine rather than put on. Hoseok’s smile is a thousand times wider and brighter than his which makes Yoongi self-conscious.

“We’ve got to go all the way out to the far ends of the earth to get to my car,” Hoseok says, pointing at one of only a few cars left in the lot, which is at the very outer reaches of the mall parking lot. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many parking tickets I got when I first started working here.” He tried bribing mall security, but they weren’t into that, so now he parks where he’s supposed to very dejectedly.

“How long have you worked at the mall?”

“I started when I was in high school, 16 actually. And then I just never left. My first job, believe it or not, was at the Orange Julius with Namjoon. He and I were both just crew members back then like you are now.  But then, when they put the Build-A-Bear in, I knew that was where I belonged. Had to work up the ladder, but me and Jin got the store to ourselves a little over five years ago.”

“So, you’re a lifer?”

“Probably,” Hoseok says, nodding. “I really like my job. I get to stuff bears and make people’s lives a little better every day. There’s nothing in the world like watching a little kid hug the teddy bear you made them for the first time. It just gets my heart beating.” Hoseok is content at this point in his life. He’s not sure if content is really what he wants, but he’s at least happy. Sure, he did basically give up his one true love in this life, dancing, but at least he’s making money and has his best friends around him. That’s enough, right?

“That’s sweet,” Yoongi says. He thinks about Hoseok making him his bear, who has kept his name of ‘Little Hoseok’. The way energy and joy radiated off of Hoseok that day is still just as vibrant now as it was when he was on the clock. He doesn’t stop looking at Hoseok until they finally arrive at his car. It’s a beat-up old thing Hoseok bought secondhand from someone else who bought it secondhand which has somehow lasted all these years despite being old enough to get a license and drive itself.

“What about you, Yoongi?” Hoseok says unlocking the car, which he has to do the old-fashioned way, with a key that you put into the lock instead of one of those magical buttons. Also, the passenger’s side door doesn’t unlock automatically so Hoseok has to climb into the car and stretch across the seat in order to unlock the other side manually.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Um I’ve worked at Orange Julius for about a month now,” he says when he’s able to open the door, and Hoseok smiles, realizing that Yoongi just made an honest to god joke. He’s obviously shy because he doesn’t know Hoseok very well, but he’s happy that maybe he’s coming out of his cocoon a little bit. Usually, Hoseok finds people to immediately fall in with him, but if they’re shy like Yoongi or Jungkook, it can take a little while.

“You’re cute,” Hoseok says casually, and since he’s the one who’s getting the car ready to drive, he doesn’t notice how Yoongi blushes magnificently at that. “Where were you at before you landed here? Tell me your life story.”

“I work at Applebee’s too,” he says. “But they cut my hours, so I had to get a second job.” Yoongi instructs him on where to go as they pull out of the parking lot. He lives right next to Applebee’s, about fifteen minutes away.

“That’s a bummer,” Hoseok sighs, and then looks over at Yoongi. He’s got his seat belt on, which is always what Hoseok checks whenever someone new enters his car, because you can never be too cautious. “But at least you chose the second-best place to work. Build-A-Bear is the best, of course.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi blushes again, and Hoseok notices it this time. “Namjoon is really nice.”

“He’s the best in the world,” Hoseok corrects him. Ever since his crippling crush on Namjoon, he tries never to feel things for his friends. It’s mostly been easy, because none of his friends are really his type. There’s something different about Yoongi, though, which makes him feel a little weird around him. Yoongi has a vibe to him that makes Hoseok’s heart go boom.

“I think the job just takes getting used to,” Yoongi says.

“You’ll be fine. We’re all amazing and I can tell you’re already fitting in. You already have one thing in common with all of us,” Hoseok says. “Jimin is pretty great to work with. He’s my roommate, I would know.”

“Oh? So, you’ve all known each other for a while it sounds like.” Yoongi is desperately intimidated walking into a circle where there are already deep bonds. Seokjin and Namjoon are literally married, Hoseok has known Namjoon for years. Now Jimin is his roommate, he feels like he should’ve known that already. He doesn’t think there’s going to be anyway for him to ever fit in with people who have all known each other for that long.

“Some of us, yeah. I’m always open to meeting new people, but my personality can be a bit much, so people don’t always want to keep me,” he shrugs. Yoongi wants to scoff and tell him that can’t be true, but he hasn’t known Hoseok for very long. He likes how extra Hoseok is, but he doesn’t actually know what other people might think.

“How did you and Jimin meet?”

“Well, I met Jimin in college. We both studied dance and we also conveniently both needed a roommate at about the same time. There was a little while where we literally and figuratively danced around the idea of dating, but we chose not to,” Hoseok shrugs.

“Oh, okay,” Yoongi says, clearly processing his thoughts. What it is he’s processing, Hoseok doesn’t know. He smiles a little bit at the way that Yoongi’s face is so soft. He looks delicate, like if you were to poke him, he’d just fall apart. “You dance?” Yoongi is intoxicated by the idea of Hoseok dancing. He barely knows this man but Hoseok is the most alluring man he’s met in years. Hoseok’s got his hand on the wheel and eyes on the road which means that Yoongi pretty much gets to look at him all he wants. He’s very pretty to look at. It’s very nice being up close to him and this is the closest he’s ever been to him.

“I do!” Hoseok says, laughing. “Jimin’s the successful one, though. His job at the mall is only part time, he teaches at the community center.”

“Do you still dance?” Yoongi looks all doe eyed and cute when he asks. Hoseok looks over at him briefly and wants to just pinch his goddamn cheeks.

“Here and there,” he shrugs.

“You miss it though,” Yoongi says with total confidence.

“I do?”

“You don’t give up things like that,” Yoongi says. “When I left college, I never thought I’d get stuck still working at fucking Applebee’s. I thought I’d be the biggest rapper in the world by now.”

“When you left college?” Hoseok asks, more than a little caught off guard. Yoongi carries a backpack around everywhere. Maybe Yoongi graduated from college really early?

Then again, if Yoongi is working two jobs, where would he even have found the time to have a college career anyway? Does this mean…?

He’s been sure that Yoongi is like 19 tops. Any more than 19 will require a lot of reorganizing in his brain. If he’s out of college that means he’s got to be at least 22? 23? More? “Wait, how old are you?”

“I’m 27.”

“Whoa, what the fuck! Seriously?” Hoseok asks, nearly screeching the car to a halt in surprise. This guy? The guy that Hoseok thought was a teenager? The guy who he was absolutely positive he was older than? Who he thought was definitely too young for him to flirt with? That guy?

“Yeah… how old did you think I was?” Yoongi looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed together. Sure, he’s younger than he looks, but no one has ever had a reaction like this before.

“I definitely didn’t think you were older than me.” It would be embarrassing if he told Yoongi that he thought he was nearly a decade younger than he actually is.

“I think that’s a compliment.”

“You’re actually 27?” Hoseok asks looking at Yoongi again trying to detect a lie. He really doesn’t look like he could possibly be that old. Not that Hoseok should complain. 27 is the perfect age. No, Hoseok, stop thinking like that. His age isn’t the only reason why you haven’t asked him out yet.

“I am,” Yoongi says with a laugh, “Do you want to see my ID?” Now that Hoseok knows he’s not like 6 years older than this guy he looks at Yoongi sitting beside him a lot differently than he had before. He likes the way that Yoongi laughs. A lot. He decides he likes a whole bunch of things about Yoongi now that he’s 27 and not 19. He likes his cheeks, his smile, his eyes, his thighs.

“I thought you knew that,” Yoongi says. When Hoseok glances between him and the road several times, he sees Yoongi blushing.

“You carry a backpack everywhere!” he responds. “I just assumed you were a college student.” It’s entirely possible that he projected what age he wanted Yoongi to be in order to prevent himself from feeling things. He’s not going to let himself think about any of that.

“Well, I’m not,” he says. Christ, Yoongi wonders if this is why Hoseok hasn’t made a move on him yet. Not that he expects him to, but it’s felt like there’s been something there since the day Hoseok stuffed his bear.

Yoongi’s liked him for a lot long than that. Hoseok is beautiful. All of the people he works with are beautiful, but there’s something about Hoseok that just gets to him more than anyone else. It’s probably because of how vibrant and smiley Hoseok is. He’s completely irresistible.

Yoongi bites his lip and only realizes now that they’re on his street. He points to his house and Hoseok, who’s oddly silent, follows his instructions until he pulls into a driveway.

Man, he can’t believe Yoongi has his own little house. He probably rents the place, but it’s still cool to think about living in a house, not sharing your walls with three other apartments. Damn. Namjoon and Seokjin have a house, but that’s because they’re a married couple and married couples are allowed to live in houses. Yoongi living in a house makes Hoseok feel like an even bigger idiot for thinking that Yoongi was so young.

“Thank you for the ride, Hoseok.”

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s a normal person who’s just talking with his friend. He can do this. “Yeah, any time, honestly. I can also pick you up before work if we have similar schedules too, Yoongi. I don’t like thinking that you have to call an Uber just to get to work.”

“Well, I usually take the bus,” he says. “But it doesn’t run this late, so…” Yoongi isn’t sure why he’s not getting out of the car. Maybe he’s waiting for Hoseok to lean over the gear stick to kiss him goodnight. He knows it isn’t going to happen even as he daydreams about it.

“Thanks again,” Yoongi says after a silence fills the car for way too long. Hoseok smiles at him, and for some reason, his smile doesn’t seem entirely genuine. Yoongi wonders why that is. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong, and yet he feels as though he must have. Hoseok is always so alive and bright. Maybe he’s just tired, Yoongi assures himself.

Whatever the case, he pulls his backpack up from the floor by his feet and opens the car door. If he can’t spend the night with Hoseok than he might as well go spend the night with Little Hoseok.

***

Jimin is beating the shit out of him at Mario Kart. Hoseok can usually beat him with one hand behind his back, but he’s been very much off his game the past few days. He’s too distracted by the bag of chips resting against his thigh to look at the screen for too long. He’s also distracted by the fact that the excuse he made for why he can’t like Yoongi has fallen apart. It’s been very inconvenient for him to recognize the fact that there are no barriers between him liking Yoongi anymore.

Honestly, it was so easy to just assume Yoongi was too young for him. Assuming he can’t is a whole lot simpler than wondering if he can.  

“Did you break your hand and not tell me about it?” Jimin asks, looking over at him.

“Hmm?”

“You suck,” Jimin says, pointing to the screen. “It’s no fun when you let me win. I’d rather you beat me fair and square.”

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Oh,” he says, and blinks a few times, trying to invest himself in the game. It’s pushing one in the morning and all he can think about is how Yoongi spent his lunchbreak at Build-A-Bear today. He’s starting to melt into their circle like butter. Even though the store had been busy as all hell, Yoongi still sat by. Hoseok offered to let him sit on the floor in the store, and he sheepishly accepted, just so that he could escape being around people for a little while. Hoseok stood in the middle of the concourse helping to stitch up animals while Yoongi looked up at him eating his food. He looked like a goddamn dumpling and all Hoseok could think of was squishing his little cheeks. Also, he admitted to liking Daily Dog Digest and that’s the most Hoseok could ever ask for in a man.

“Did you know that Yoongi is 27?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, unfazed.

“What? Really? You knew?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Did you not know? Wait, how old did you think he was?”

“I thought… I don’t really want to admit,” he says.

“So does you thinking he was younger have anything to do with why you haven’t asked him out yet?”

“Please don’t do this to me again,” he sighs, putting the controller down because he simply cannot think with all of this Yoongi in his head. “It’s just… I haven’t dated anyone in so long. The last time I had a boyfriend was in college, Jimin. We talked about this a few weeks ago, and it’s starting to fester rather inconveniently for me. You were the last date I went on. You! You and I went on one date and gave up halfway through. Hell, we split the goddamn bill! You don’t split the bill on a date. I don’t even know what it’s like being in a relationship as an adult; I don’t know how to do it.”

Jimin blinks. “So… you see yourself wanting a relationship with Yoongi?” Is that really all Jimin got out of that?

“I’m just terrified of disappointing someone since I don’t know how to be in a couple. I don’t know what to, what to say. I just don’t know.”

“It’s not that hard, you know. Treating someone well is the easiest thing in the world, and you’re already my best friend so I know you can do that part,” Jimin says. “Dating is just like having a best friend, except closer, physically and emotionally.”

“You can call it easy because you’ve done it!” Hoseok says. “My longest relationship lasted for a month.”

“Bottom of the line, Hoseok. Do you like him? Do you want a relationship with Yoongi?”

“That’s what I think about whenever I see him, yeah. He’s completely my type, and he’s so goddamn pretty,” Hoseok thinks about Yoongi’s pretty lips and his neck and his goddamn hands. Also, the small smile and embarrassed laugh he does when you say something nice about him, and the fact that it’s hard to catch him not sneaking sips of iced coffee when he’s at work. “But Jimin, I don’t think you understand how scared I am that I feel this way. I thought I liked being single. But now, here I am, and all I can think about is him. I don’t even know how to ask someone out.”

Jimin makes a thoughtful face. “You could try just asking him?”

Hoseok’s eyes bulge out in terror. “But what if he doesn’t like me back! What if I ruin our friendship and then he leaves the group chat, and then he quits his job all because I made things awkward between us and we never see him again?”

“Did that happen when you and I dated?” Jimin says, giving him an eyebrow.

“Well, no, but-”

“Just ask him,” Jimin says. “Here’s what happens if he doesn’t like you back: you ask me him out, and he says no. You’re both adults who can be mature about it. We went on a date, it didn’t work out, now we’re best friends. You’re literally the friendliest person I know, you’ll be fine. Just ask him out.”

“I don’t know how!”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“I’ll cut your balls off in your sleep,” Hoseok says. Jimin just blinks at him, not particularly surprised by this threat.

“I could at least make sure he’s single for you?”

Hoseok considers that. He really is terrified. The feelings he has inside of him are new. College boyfriends aren’t real boyfriends, just like Jimin said. Or at least, they weren’t for Hoseok. Most of his boyfriends were stress relievers between tests when he just needed to fuck something, or he’d pull his hair out. He’s moved on from that life, thank god. His stress levels are actually minimal which is an amazing feeling that he never thought he’d achieve. Yoongi’s presence has made his stress levels heighten back to the days when he had projects and tests due.

What would dating him be like? Does he pay for meals, open car doors, hold hands? The most important of all questions: does he like to cuddle? Christ, he wants to cuddle someone so much. That’s what he most wants in a relationship actually, someone to cuddle him. He wants to be a big spoon and hide under a blanket when it’s cold outside and hold his boyfriend like a teddy bear. Maybe that’s why he has such an addiction to buying bears; he just wants to hold someone.

“Only if you do it subtly.”

“How about ‘when was the last time you got laid?’” Jimin asks. Hoseok blinks at him. “Alright, I’ll workshop it.”

“I will kill you if you fuck this up for me, Jimin.” Hoseok is saying things without consulting his brain first. Caution is being thrown at the wind. Right now, he just needs to get the ball rolling with Jimin before he chickens out and tries to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for Yoongi. Besides, if Jimin finds out he’s not single, maybe that will put his crush to rest. Or even if he is single, that doesn’t mean that Hoseok has to go for it, right?

“So, you are going to try with him? You’re not just going to say you will and then chicken out?”

Hoseok makes a face. Jimin’s words are deserved, but he feels a little like a child, and he’s supposed to be the older one. “We’ll see.”

“I just want you to be happy, Hoseokie. You’ve never acted this way before. You’ve never had an actual crush since I’ve known you. I think it would be awesome for you to have someone in your life. Maybe I’ll even get a boyfriend too, so we can go on double dates. Oh, or triple dates if we invite Jin and Joon.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. If Jimin just opened his eyes a little bit, he’d realize there’s someone who would trip over his own tongue in order to date him. If Hoseok were to date Yoongi, wouldn’t that mean Jimin has to open up about Taehyung?

Maybe they’re both hopeless.

***

Yoongi rests his head on his hand, bending over the counter with the most bored expression conceivably possible. Across the hallway, Seokjin is helping a family with three kids while one of Seokjin’s high school employees is spraying and wiping down the store. It’s almost closing time, but since it’s a Tuesday, the mall is completely dead. Namjoon is the kind of manager, god bless him, who doesn’t start closing the store down until 8:01. The other two managers get ready to shut things down ten minutes before close, but Namjoon is very by the book.

Nevertheless, he has started counting the register while Yoongi daydreams about his bed. He misses his bed, but Yoongi missing his bed is the baseline of his existence.

Yoongi looks over at Namjoon who’s trying to get work done but can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his husband across the hall. It must be hard seeing him all day and not getting to be with him. He supposes that he understands both Namjoon and Seokjin’s perspectives in how easy it would be to fall in love with either of them. They make a lot of sense; you just can’t tell until they’re stood beside each other. Namjoon is a great person when Seokjin isn’t around, but once Seokjin is around him, they both lose most of their braincells and resort to jokes, giggles, and helpless ease. Namjoon is less serious around Seokjin, who is never serious to begin with. Seokjin only gets louder and more confident. They’re the love story that you don’t believe is possible until you see it.

He wonders what Hoseok is like in a relationship. He’s already at a level 100, he might make people go blind if he were to be in a relationship, but Yoongi would like it. He wants someone who’s personality is that bright to counterbalance his tendencies toward laziness. Yoongi’s hand would probably fit very nicely into Hoseok’s. He wouldn’t be the cute one in the relationship, but that’s okay. He’d be able to show off his boyfriend to everyone and they would be jealous of him.

“Can you count this for me?” Namjoon asks him, pointing at coins in the register. He nods and focuses on the coins instead of on the very real hollowness in his chest that soars through him every time he thinks about Hoseok. Yoongi confirms the number with Namjoon and double checks all of his other counting when he asks.

Namjoon starts closing down the register once everything’s counted and Yoongi turns to look around. He already cleaned up everything because they’ve been so slow. Now it’s just a matter of waiting out the clock.

“Namjoon, you’ve been friends with Hoseok for a while, haven’t you?”

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Nearly a decade,” he nods, not really looking up from what he’s doing. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs. Then he starts to doubt himself. He could just ask… he could just be honest and ask Namjoon what he thinks. Namjoon seems like the kind of guy who can keep a secret. And yeah, he is Yoongi’s boss, but only during work hours. With the number of times he’s seen Namjoon use memes in the group chat, it’s very difficult for him not to think of him as a friend.

“Actually, maybe I do have a reason.”

Namjoon looks up at him. Instead of asking a question, he just gives him an inquisitive look. Namjoon has too much control over his eyebrows.

“Is he single?” Yoongi asks, not bothering to decorate the question.

Namjoon is taken aback. He blinks at Yoongi like he’s a new species of animal that has never been seen before. “He’s very single.”

“What does ‘very single’ mean?”

“That he hasn’t dated in over five years. His life sort of revolves around his job,” Namjoon says. “Do you… well, I guess I mean obviously you do or you wouldn’t have asked. You like him?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Namjoon considers it. He likes Yoongi, he’s a very nice guy, but Hoseok is obviously his best friend in the world besides Seokjin. But he could see it. Actually, he can see it easily. He can picture a way too loud Hoseok clinging to a quiet, concise Yoongi. They’d be a perfect balance of calm and energy. “You’d certainly be taking on an interesting case. He’s certainly out of practice when it comes to dating.”

Yoongi’s mouth forms a straight line. “I don’t think I care.”

“Well then,” he nods. “You don’t need my blessing or anything, but I think you two would make senses. He’s my best friend, Yoongi. I would do anything for that guy, literally anything in the entire world.”

“So, you’ll kill me if I broke his heart, basically?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Yoongi laughs. “You’re not very threatening, Namjoon.”

“Fair,” he shrugs. Namjoon looks at him with a pleased expression. Maybe Namjoon actually really does want him to go after Hoseok? Everyone wants their friends to find love, though, right? And if Namjoon says they would make a good pair, well that’s the best he could possibly ask for.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, right?” he asks.

“Of course not,” Namjoon looks almost offended. “Not even Jin. You have my word.”

“Good,” Yoongi nods. “Then I also have another question.”

“Yeah?”

“A little while ago, Jimin asked me if I was single. You don’t think he likes me, do you? Because it’s not that I don’t like Jimin, but I just, like I really like Hoseok, and-”

“Jimin is definitely not interested in you,” Namjoon says. “But in just the same way that I won’t tell anyone your secret, I can’t give you any more information than that.”

Yoongi nods. “I see.” So, if Jimin, the roommate of Hoseok, wants to know if Yoongi’s single that might mean that Hoseok asked him to find out, right? In which case, Hoseok likes him back? Not like that part isn’t obvious. Yoongi scrunches up his face. What is he going to do with this information?

***

“You’re still making music?” Hoseok asks excitedly. They’re sitting at the food court, Yoongi with his Panda Express which Taehyung turned him onto, and Hoseok with a packed lunch, because he’s thrifty.

“Well, it’s not… it’s not good music.”

“Are you a SoundCloud rapper, Yoongi?”

“What? No!” He gets very defensive at the thought of it. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with people who are, but he has big plans. He has big, big plans. He’s not going to be a lifer at Applebee’s or Orange Julius. He’s going to be the next big thing. Well, he’s going to be the next big thing after the next big thing who’s after the next big thing. It’s a work in progress. It’s hard to become a famous rapper when you haven’t even finished a demo tape yet.

“I don’t need to ask you if you’re any good,” Hoseok says, taking a bite out of his food. “I already know you are.”

He blushes, “how could you possibly know that?”

“Because you’re Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bite his lip. He absolutely does not bite his lip. He looks at his food, messing around with the chopsticks and trying to calm his heartbeat. Why does Hoseok look into him like that?

It’s very unclear why neither of them has made a move on the other. How many months have they known each other? Two? Three? They’re both too stupid to know how to deal with their feelings for each other. Yoongi is a hard person to read, so Hoseok truly doesn’t know if Yoongi feels anything for him. Hoseok’s heart is on his sleeve, there’s no getting around that. Everyone who knows probably knows that he likes Yoongi. But Yoongi talks way more to Hoseok than he does to anyone else in the group so it’s more difficult for him to figure out if it’s mutual. Now Yoongi does of course suspect that Hoseok likes him, but there’s a whole lot of tumblers that need to move into place before you can tell someone you like them. Unless you’re Seokjin in which case balls to the wall.

“I haven’t finished anything yet. I’ve been working on demos for years now. They’re either never right or they’re never finished.”

“Hm, but see,” Hoseok says, “the more time you spend on something, the more you see what’s wrong with it. If you take a step back or let someone else see it – or hear it, as the case may be – they won’t see all the problems that you see.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you want to hear my music?”

Hoseok gives him a look that is almost annoyed. “Um… duh.”

“It’s really not polished or perfect or anything like that.”

“You’re selling yourself short. Have you ever played your music for anyone before?”

“No… or I mean, I guess I played it for a few professors in college, but that was really rough stuff. I’ve kind of tried to erase that from my memory. And computer.” Yoongi went to school for sound design and a hodge-podge of various music production minors. All this is something they’ve discussed before, but he’s never told Hoseok that he’s actually still making music. Hoseok might have guessed it, but there’s something special about Yoongi saying it out loud. Like he trusts him.

“When are you going to become famous and forget me, Yoongi?” he says wistfully.

“Oh, I’ll never forget you.” Well that sounds a little gay.

Hoseok doesn’t notice it, he just grins.

“You’re going to play your music for me someday. Right, Yoongi?” Usually, it’s Yoongi who likes to say Hoseok’s name too much. He can’t help it, Hoseok’s name tastes just right on his tongue.

“Maybe someday…”

***

Hoseok hates waking up before eight in the morning, but here he is, sitting across from Seokjin on a phone call with their district manager. They didn’t meet their sales goal the last month and every time that happens, they have to have a meeting with her, but thankfully, she’s far too lazy to travel to them.

Hoseok is running on a cup of coffee which tastes like the dredges of the old coffee maker that he and Jimin refuse to replace. Seokjin looks like he was pulled out of a sewer recently, because if there’s anyone who is less of a morning person than him, it’s Jin. It’s a mercy that the store doesn’t open before 11 or they probably would have killed each other by now.

“We’ve been working on our DPT, but no matter what bait I throw into the sea, I can’t force the fish to bite it,” Seokjin explains. “We’ve been working with all our associates on this, and I’ve been seeing a subtle increase the first week of this month.”

Hoseok doesn’t speak the same language that Seokjin does. Hoseok makes bears, asks customers if they want to put things in the bears, and gets them all dressed up. Sure, he can define retail terms for you, but that’s not where his expertise lies.

This phone call is a lot of Seokjin talking and Hoseok nodding in agreement which she can’t see over the phone. The district manager complains and they both roll their eyes at each other, because she’s never even worked in a store before. Both of them have literally worked at Build-A-Bear for longer than she has, it’s just that they’ve both turned down any promotions that would land them into her spot. What’s the point of working at Build-A-Bear if you don’t get to literally build bears? That’s like working at a zoo to water the grass.

“What upselling techniques are we using?” she asks like she’s talking to two children. Hoseok is just glad it’s a phone call and she’s not here personally, because she and Seokjin do not get along very well. People that don’t get along with Seokjin are a very rare breed, but it’s happened a few times.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

They give her the answers she wants to hear. She talks at them rather than to them for another several minutes, detailing the metrics for specific days like they’re both supposed to remember what happened on the sixteenth of last month that made them miss goal. She also tries to single out individual employees which they don’t stand for. Even if their high school employees aren’t their best pals and refused to join the group chat, they are still their hires and their people. Unsurprisingly, she praises Taehyung’s numbers because Taehyung could sell water to a fish.

Eventually they get off the call with her and Seokjin makes an exasperated sound and then puts his head face down on the table. The mall is empty right now and it will be for another hour or so, which is good because Seokjin’s sound echoes throughout the lonely hallway.

“I can’t with that woman,” he shakes his head. “It’s not my fault that the Kang family doesn’t want to spend sixty bucks on scents and accessories.”

“It’s fine. It’s whatever,” Hoseok says. Seokjin has a spreadsheet in front of him looking down at things he’s highlighted. The store isn’t any actual danger. It’s not like missing a month is going to shut them down, but the iron grip of the higher ups gets tight whenever they’re even a few dollars off. They only missed their monthly goal by less than three thousand, which is almost nothing at all. Bureaucracy needs to understand that they don’t have complete control over what customers want.

Seokjin puts his hands to his temples and tries to rub sleep out of his eyes before shaking his head like a dog. “The children have exams coming up.” He often calls their high school employee’s children, because why not? He still sometimes still calls Jungkook a child too. “I got a whole bunch of availability changes which are going to fuck with our hours.”

“It’s not like I have much of a life outside of here anyway,” Hoseok laughs. He doesn’t have a boyfriend, so what’s he really missing out on by being at work? He’d rather be at the store doing something and getting paid for it than to be in his apartment doing nothing and making nothing. Also, whenever he has free time, Jimin pesters him for not coming to the community center to practice dancing.

Seokjin on the other hand has a husband. They coordinate their schedules so that they can see each other as much as possible. Changes in scheduling are always tough on him because of that. This means that Hoseok usually takes on more hours than he probably should, but as has been well established, he doesn’t have much of a life anyway.

“We’re going to need to start hiring for the holidays,” Seokjin says. “I’d like to get four or five seasonal and keep on three of them.”

“Got it,” Hoseok nods. Between the two of them, Hoseok is the one who would better be termed as the ‘hiring manager.’ He’s a good judge of character and tends to see the potential in everyone. It’s a lot easier to hire at Build-A-Bear than it is at Orange Julius, because there aren’t two assholes scaring people so much that they quit.

“I also think I’d like to hire on Yoongi. See if we can’t steal him from Applebee’s.”

“No!” Hoseok says so quickly that he surprises himself. “You can’t do that.”

Seokjin raises his eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Don’t make me say it.” Is Seokjin playing dumb or is he actually dumb?

The two of them look at each other for several seconds. Seokjin’s tired, puffy eyes meet Hoseok’s more alert ones.

“Say what?” Seokjin asks, and it occurs to Hoseok that he might genuinely have no clue. Jimin sees right through him, but that’s because he lives with the guy. Jungkook can also tell, because Jungkook is kind of superhuman.

Hoseok groans, knowing that there’s nothing he can do to avoid admitting it at this point. Yoongi is obviously a perfect candidate for the job. He hates working at Applebee’s, he’s already a part of the family, he has great work ethic, and he’s easy to get along with. He’s a hiring manager’s dream.

He wishes he didn’t have to tell Seokjin, because he’ll give Hoseok endless shit for falling for one of their friends. Now, to be fair, he’ll give Hoseok endless shit for dating anyone since he’s had one boyfriend in the time Seokjin has known him, but that was too many years ago to count on one hand.

Hoseok sighs and looks at a spot behind him. “It would be totally inappropriate for a manager to date one of his employees.”

Seokjin’s eyes open wide. He’s normally a much smarter person than this, Hoseok honestly can’t believe he didn’t figure this out. “You and Yoongi are-”

“No, we’re not. But if he works for us, we won’t be able to, and I need… I need…”

“Okay, absolutely. No hiring Yoongi,” Seokjin says, resolutely, but only because he wants all the dirt now. “How long have you liked him? When are you going to ask him out? When are you getting married?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, and I don’t know. Maybe I’ve liked him since I met him? I just think he’s pretty and funny and sweet and serious in all the right ways.” It’s been well over a month since Jimin reported back to him of Yoongi’s singleness, and Hoseok has done absolutely nothing at all to change that fact. Yoongi should not be single. But also, no one should ever be allowed to date Yoongi besides Hoseok.

“How did I not know about this?” he asks. Seokjin looks fully devastated. How could he, the man who prides himself in being in everyone’s business, not have realized that his own friend, his own coworker, his own godfather to the adopted children he doesn’t even have yet, is in love with one of his other friends? This is just unbelievable. He needs to step up his game. If he doesn’t have gossip to fling, then what is the real purpose of his life?

“Are you in love?” he asks. Seokjin tries to use a tone that sounds teasing to cover up the mild panic he has over that fact that he didn’t see straight through Hoseok in the first place.

“No, of course not!” Hoseok says. “We haven’t even gone on a date. I don’t even know if he likes me. I mean, I think he might like me, but I can’t know for certain. All I know is that my feelings are super legit. Like, I feel serious about this.”

“You having a crush on my husband serious or…?”

“Okay first of all, I knew Namjoon first, and second, no, it’s not like that at all. This feeling I have is so serious it hurts. It’s ‘I feel like I’m going to die whenever I’m around him but I kind of like it’ serious. ‘He makes my ears blush whenever I even think about his name’ serious. ‘I think about him in the shower’ serious.” All of those statements hit home, but probably the shower one goes the furthest for Seokjin.

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah!”

“You’re not just going to sit on your tail and do nothing, are you?” Seokjin asks. “You’ve got to make a move. What are you waiting for?”

This is why he didn’t want to tell Seokjin. He doesn’t want to deal with both Jimin and Seokjin knowing at the same time. He could easily take care of their constant pestering him if he were to just go and make a move on Yoongi, but making a move requires confidence and balls, and he’s not sure if he has either.

“It’s scary! What if he doesn’t feel the same way and I ruin our friendship? I’m terrified! I haven’t dated anyone in years. It’s just nerve wracking.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “I asked Joon out like two weeks after meeting him.” Hoseok remembers that. He was gutted. He was even more gutted when he saw how much they were made for each other, in a way that he never was made for Namjoon. He feels differently about Yoongi, because he can look back on the way he felt about Namjoon and it feels very juvenile. It feels like a little kid had that crush on Namjoon. He was basically a kid back then, he was still in high school and had had one boyfriend in his life, which lasted about two weeks.

Yoongi is different. A lot different. His hunger for Yoongi’s words, body, voice – his everything rampages through Hoseok’s entire body. He forgets how to breathe around him.

“I’m not you, Jin! I’m not as confident!”

“Well, obviously. No one is. No one has the right to be, I’m perfect,” Seokjin loves talking about himself and his sentence drifts off until he remembers that they’re discussing Hoseok, not him. “You have to rip the band aid off, Hoseok. Just ask him out. Tell him he’s pretty. Buy him chocolate. You know how I asked Joon out for the first time? I marched on over to Orange Julius, told him how pretty he is, and we went on a date as soon as his shift was over. That’s how you’ve got to do it.”

“Okay, but I’ve already known Yoongi for a few months, so I think it’s a bit late for that.”

Seokjin is more aggravated now than he was on the phone call with their district manager. Seokjin is a punch-you-in-the-face-“that’s life” kind of a guy.

“You just have to do it,” he says eventually. “There’s no pomp and circumstance. Just tell him you like him. Do it however you want. You’ll probably be a fumbling mess and it’ll be cringey as all hell, but you have to. What if Yoongi is your Namjoon? If I was you and I thought even for a second that I could feel the way I do about someone that Seokjin does about his husband, I don’t think I could waste a minute. That’s how I landed the best man in the world, Hoseok.”

“You’re probably right,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “Yeah. You probably are right.”

***

Hoseok is waiting for Jungkook’s shift to be over so that they can go get noodles. It’s Jungkook’s turn to buy and Hoseok has been waiting literally all day to get some goddamn food in his face. All he’s had so far is a very sad packed lunch and smoothie that Jimin may or may not have spit in because Hoseok ate his leftovers last night. He certainly threatened to spit in the smoothie, but whether he did or didn’t is largely dependent on where Namjoon’s eyes were at the time.

Hoseok is hiding in the back of Hot Topic next to the socks, pretending like he works here which anyone would be able to tell is not true because he isn’t wearing a black T-shirt with a band logo on it. Jungkook, who actually does work here, is ringing up two white girls who very clearly have a thing for him, so Hoseok crouches down because he doesn’t want to deal with them seeing that he is also a very pretty boy. He has girls like that at his store all the time, and it’s very weird being flirted with by girls when you’re building a teddy bear for them. Jimin has the worst of it, because he’s Instagram famous and sometimes gets recognized. Hoseok needs a boy to hold hands with to scare off girls whenever the situation arises. Jimin will do that for him anytime he asks because of their shared problem, but Hoseok also wants to be able to kiss whoever’s hand he holds, and he doesn’t want to kiss Jimin ever.

Staring at the wall of clothes, he wonders vacantly if he would look good in fishnets when a voice from behind him says his name. Hoseok’s entire body clenches and he turns around to see the prettiest boy of them all. He constantly thinks about Yoongi when they’re not near each other. It’s hard not to. He still doesn’t know if he’s going to attempt anything with him, but he knows that he certainly wants to.

“Hey, Yoongi, how are you?” he says, trying to act casual. Why is he trying to act casual when Yoongi is his friend and he acts casual around him all the time? That’s what having friends is like. So why does it feel like this all of a sudden? He hasn’t been avoiding Yoongi, but he certainly hasn’t been seeking him out. It’s been a little over a week since he came clean to Seokjin, and he has very much gotten used to Seokjin’s heavy gaze on him. It feels like the clock is ticking now with two people – and also probably Jungkook – knowing about his crush.

It’s not like things have changed. He’s given Yoongi a ride back to his house twice just in the past week and that hasn’t been weird. A little uncomfortable when he looks too closely at his face and feels his insides melt, but he’s living through it.

But right now, well… Yoongi isn’t in his work clothes right now. Hoseok has never seen him outside of work clothes before, because he would remember it if he had. Usually, Yoongi is in baggy black pants that don’t show off his assets, and he has the signature blue shirt – Hoseok has always wondered why it’s not, you know, orange.

This Yoongi is a breed of creature he was not and will never be prepared for. His jeans are black and way too skinny, with giant holes in the knees, and Hoseok confirms that Yoongi has indeed been walking around on chicken legs this entire time. The rest of the look isn’t intimidating in anyway, it’s just very nice seeing him look like a normal human person who is attractive and knows how to dress. Hoseok nearly has a heart attack when he notices that his piercings are in. Hoseok needs a life alert, because he is about to fall and he will not be getting back up. His heart is going to give out. He’s going to die right here in this Hot Topic because of Yoongi, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Yoongi!” he says, his voice sounds breathy and he hates it.

“You into stockings?” he laughs, pointing at the display directly behind him to a pair of stockings with cats on them.

Hoseok blushes furiously, and shakes his head, “no, no, no. I’m just waiting for Jungkook’s shift to end.” He points over at Jungkook who is trying to bat off the girls as politely as possible without pulling out a spray bottle.

Yoongi gives him a wide smile. “I know, I was just teasing you.” Something is different about Yoongi today. Maybe it’s because he’s in human clothes rather than work clothes. He seems happier, brighter, more excited. Hoseok is barely able to stay sane being around Yoongi when Yoongi is bored out of his mind at work, so how is he going to handle a Yoongi who’s this sexy?

Hoseok is now self-conscious that Yoongi is here looking like an entire buffet while he’s in black dress pants and a dull white T-shirt. No one wants to fuck a guy dressed like this, and he wishes to god that Yoongi knew he has an actual fashion sense when he’s at home. Not like he ever gets to show that off because he works almost every day of the week.

“What, uh, brings you by?” Hoseok asks.

“Well, I actually work just a few stores down,” he says. Hoseok fakes a laugh that is so plastic that it makes Jungkook turn his head as he’s trying to shoo away the girls. Hoseok wants to bury himself in a very deep grave.

“It’s just- you’re not… I mean you’re dressed a little differently,” Hoseok tries to play it cool, but that mission failed several minutes ago before Yoongi even walked up to him.

“Well I had to buy a few things before my shift started, and I hate walking around like a corporate whore,” he says, and then gestures to his backpack. “I’ll change before I actually have to clock in.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods. “When is your shift? Jungkook and I are getting food.”

Yoongi pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. “An hour. The bus schedule doesn’t really take into account my own schedule.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. In his right mind, he should be far away from Yoongi when he’s looking this dangerous, but he can’t help himself. He wants all the time with Yoongi he can get, even if it means he just looks at his piercings and exposed knees. “So, would you want to get food with us? Me and Jungkook, I mean.”

“Yeah, absolutely!” Yoongi says, because he was waiting for Hoseok to ask him that since he mentioned food. Hoseok smiles sweetly at him and is saved from trying to form words when Jungkook pops up behind Yoongi. Jungkook is too smiley to be too punk rock. Also, he listens to a lot of pop music. He gets made fun of for his music taste a lot at Hot Topic, but he’s still intimidating because he’s Jungkook and you can even see how ripped he is through most of his shirts.

“I’m off the clock!” He says happily. “Hi Yoongi!” Yoongi waves back at him. Hoseok doesn’t see them interact too much because Jungkook doesn’t work down the hall like the rest of them, but they seem to get along just fine whenever they’re together.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Jungkook, is it, uh, okay if Yoongi comes to get food with us?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says, unphased. Hoseok doesn’t know why he thought he might say no. “Just give me one second to go grab my things,” he says, and then squeezes past Hoseok in the trademark Hot Topic aisles which are way too narrow. Hoseok looks to see that the two girls have left and one of Jungkook’s coworkers who has more facial piercings than Hoseok has brain cells is now manning the register.

If Yoongi is coming along, they’ll have to eat at the food court. He and Jungkook were going to get black bean noodles at a restaurant on the other side of town, but if they were to do that, they wouldn’t be able to get back in time for Yoongi’s shift, and he desperately needs to be near Yoongi right now so that he can fully drink in this look of his. If for nothing else, he needs to engrave pierced Yoongi into his mind.

“Did you have a good day?” Yoongi asks.

“Yeah, kind of long, though. Glad it’s over. Er, sorry,” he says, remembering that Yoongi’s shift hasn’t started yet, and the poor guy must be closing if he’s going in at this hour.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi says. He can tell what he’s doing to Hoseok. Hoseok is trying to be subtle about it, but he’s very much checking Yoongi out. And Yoongi knows exactly how to drive the nail into Hoseok’s coffin. “Cool if we go over there? I’ve got to go get some earrings, that’s actually why I came in.”

Hoseok gulps physically and audibly. Yeah, Yoongi had a feeling that would work. Hoseok follows after him as Yoongi goes to look at the display case with all the various earrings. Hoseok’s mouth is very dry as Yoongi crouches down to look at them. Hoseok isn’t okay, he wants a pretty boy with piercings and squishy cheeks and who wears jeans with holes in them. Does Yoongi even know how pretty he looks right now? Does Namjoon know what he’s robbing the world of by not letting him have his earrings in? Hoseok doesn’t feel good.

“Ready?” Jungkook again pops up, and Hoseok startles, both because he’s a scaredy cat, and because he was too concentrated on Yoongi to hear him approach.

“Can you open the case for me to get some piercings, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, standing up straight again.

Jungkook gives an exasperated sigh, “I’ve already clocked out for the day, Yoongi.” Yoongi pouts his bottom lip. Jungkook isn’t bothered but Hoseok’s lifespan reduces by at least a year at the sight.

“Fine, fine,” he says, and then goes over to his heavily pierced coworker to ask for her keys. He returns and Yoongi points to the ones he wants. Hoseok decides that the ceiling looks lovely this time of year. He drifts off to stand near the doors, trying to recover while Yoongi pays for his things and Jungkook stays to let him use his employee discount, which he’s not allowed to do, but Hot Topic employees ain’t snitches.

Hoseok has to breathe deeply. He can do this. He sees hot guys all of the time, they just walk around the mall. But this is a hot guy who also happens to be his friend, so he knows he likes his personality. Hoseok will be fine someday. He just needs hot tea and a fireplace to sit beside while he grapples with existence.

They meet him at the door and Hoseok smiles at Yoongi, completely disregarding Jungkook’s existence.

“All set?”

Yoongi nods, and Jungkook stares at the two of them with a facial expression that doesn’t have a word. He’s judging them both for their very obvious attraction towards each other. Yet neither of them has said anything, because surely, if they had, everyone in the mall would’ve heard about it by now. Inter-mall dating is a serious topic. That time the girl from the Foot Locker started dating the guy from the Go! Calendars store was monumental. Namjoon and Seokjin are sometimes revered as gods amongst men.

“It’s my turn to buy food,” Hoseok says.

“I thought it was my-”

“Nope, it’s mine,” he says, giving Jungkook a pleasant but evil stare. Of all the people who could find out about him having a crush on Yoongi, Jungkook is the least worrying. Jungkook isn’t going to tease him, he’s Jungkook.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s hand as they walk out of the store. It looks like it would be nice to hold. It’s either intentional or pure luck that Jungkook decides to walk behind the two of them. Jungkook just wants to see what will happen.

“How is your demo coming along?” Hoseok asks.

“It’s pretty much the same as it was a month or a year ago, I’m just trying to make it more and more perfect,” Yoongi shrugs. He works on his music pretty much every day, but he’s only one person, so it feels as though every second of every song takes an eternity. Someone who has access to support and money would be able to make something of all the effort he’s put into his music, but he’s literally all by himself in his house doing his best. The only reason he lives in a house is so that he can make music at all hours of the night without neighbors complaining about the noise levels, and that means he has to work two jobs. It’s a nightmare. Maybe he’ll date Hoseok and then he’ll move in with Yoongi, and then they have two salaries so he won’t have to work two jobs, and then he’ll release his solo album and everyone in the world will buy it and he’ll be famous and he’ll show off Hoseok as his date on red carpets. He’s getting a little ahead of himself.

“I’m sure it’s better than you think it is. You know, if you spend so much time with something, you begin to find flaws that aren’t there. It’s like looking at your face in the mirror every day. You see your nose and think, ‘huh, I wish I had a better nose’ but then people around you think you have a really great nose. It’s just that you don’t see it, because you have to look at it every day and you get tired.”

“I like your nose,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok rolls his eyes and nudges him. Not wanting to be the only one on the chopping block, he says, “You, Hoseok, should dance more often.”

Jungkook pitches in, “he’s right you know, Hoseokie.”

“Okay, I dance! I dance all the time.”

“You don’t,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Jimin said you never stop by the community center anymore, and it’s not like you’re stomping around on your third-floor apartment, are you?”

“It’s just… I mean,” If Hoseok were a computer, he would need a hard-reset right about now. “I didn’t know I was going to get this sort of pressure put on me today.”

“Come on, how do you keep that kind of passion inside?” he asks. “As an artist, it’s hard to keep your creativity down.”

“I just invest my life and soul into that store,” Hoseok says. “I really, really do. I care so much about my job. I know it’s stupid. People who are married to their job are usually in offices or whatever, and here I am, making teddy bears for a living, but I love it.”

“You don’t need to work so much,” Jungkook says. “You never have days off.” Hoseok purses his lips. He has days off! One a week usually, but that still counts! Right?

“It does seem like you work too much,” Yoongi says. Hoseok really didn’t think he was going to get interrogated on his way to the food court. He spares himself from having to talk about it anymore when the smell of food hits them like a wall. Hoseok uses it as an excuse to jog over to the small food court to give a quick survey of his options. Panda Express, arbitrary not Panda Express but wishes they were, arbitrary burger place, arbitrary healthy option, and arbitrary pretzel place. Hoseok’s feet decide on a burger before his brain does.

He doesn’t check but Yoongi follows him while Jungkook aims his sights on the Panda Express wannabe, because they have better noodles. Hoseok said he was buying, but apparently it’s only Yoongi he’s paying for.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Is there a reason for why you work as much as you do?” Yoongi asks.

“I think I just work in order to have something to do,” he says. The line to the burger place is a few people long so they have a few minutes to talk. Yoongi doesn’t even know if he wants a burger. He’d probably prefer a pretzel. His biggest preference is being near Hoseok.

“You could spend that time dancing,” he says. “I’ve seen a lot of people do dance covers on the internet. I wish you would do something like that. I think if I were to try to keep my love for creating music inside, I’d probably be just… well honestly, I’d be so depressed. I wonder if you ever feel like something’s missing?”

“I really do just spend all of my time at work. Like, all of it. I don’t think I should even tell you how much overtime I put in, because I think you’d choke.”

“You need to relax, Hoseok,” Yoongi says. Maybe you should find a boyfriend. Someone who’s standing right beside you perhaps. “You know you’re going to burn out eventually if you do that for too long.”

“I guess someday,” he shrugs. “I’ll find a good reason to take a few steps back from work.” Like maybe a boyfriend. Maybe someone who’s standing right beside him.

They order their food and find Jungkook at one of the tables on the edge of the room. They usually sit in the same section of the food court if not at the same table every time. Jungkook is already halfway done with his noodles, watching a video on his phone. Jungkook always looks like a little kid when he’s eating, there’s just something about the way his cheeks puff out and he chews in a pout that makes Hoseok want to give him Werther’s Originals.

“Jimin posts videos of himself dancing to Instagram, Hoseok. You should too,” Jungkook says. Yoongi beams, because he just said the same thing!

“Let me see,” Yoongi asks, gesturing to Jungkook’s phone. Yoongi makes a little aw sound in his throat that he hadn’t planned on when he sees Jimin dancing his goddamn heart out in a big studio with a mirror on the wall. He makes a mental note that he’s going to have to download Instagram now.

Hoseok gets very jealous of Yoongi looking at a video of Jimin, because he’s just as good as Jimin. Yoongi should be watching videos of him dancing. Oh jeez, does he need to download Instagram now?

“He’s good,” Yoongi says, not like it needs to be stated. He is a professional. So is Hoseok, but he doesn’t brag about it, and lift his shirt up for the views.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says looking happy, and taking his phone back.

“Let’s all stop trying to convince Hoseok to drastically change his life today, okay?” Hoseok says.

They nod and move onto other topics such as the woman who came into Hot Topic to ask Jungkook what gauge her nipple piercings were and then proceeded to flash him so that he could give her an answer. He hid in the backroom for like twenty minutes, and hissed at anyone that tried to disturb him, which sounds kind of on brand for Jungkook.

“You know, you could always come back to Build-A-Bear,” Hoseok says. “Jungkook 2 has been keeping your apron clean and ready for you.” Jungkook makes a noise, but it doesn’t sound like he’s brushing him off nearly as much as usual. Wow, nipple lady really got to him.

“The worst thing is that this isn’t the first time this has happened,” Jungkook sighs. “Why do… ugh. These people could just ask when they get pierced, you know? They could ask the piercer what gauge it is before it goes in their body. It’s a Hot Topic, we sell anime and heavy metal shit. I’m not a piercer? I don’t know these things. Why would I know these things? I don’t want to see your nipple. And why do they never ask if it’s okay before they just pull their shirts up? I feel like that’s the kind of thing you need all parties to accept is going to happen before you do it.”

“Ah, the ongoing struggles of being a mall gay,” Hoseok says and holds up his drink as if he’s about to toast to it. Yoongi snorts and covers his face, but Hoseok would probably find it sexy anyway.  

***

“This has come out of nowhere,” Jimin says. He’s very sweaty and out of breath as Hoseok finds a seat on the floor of the studio. It’s Jimin’s room every other weekday from 5 until the community center closes at 10. Perks of working here. Jimin gets to earn money teaching and then has several hours of time where the room is all his, and that’s how he managed to get a few hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram, posting videos that Yoongi thinks are amazing. That and because of Jimin’s abs which people are into apparently. Hoseok doesn’t have an Instagram because Jimin intimidates him a little bit too much. Jimin is just too good at being perfect. Hoseok has known him for years and still isn’t sure he can name any of his flaws.

“I’m having an emotional crisis,” Hoseok says.

“You’ve been having an emotional crisis ever since I met you. Your whole life is an emotional crisis.”

“I have not! I’m usually never stressed,” Hoseok says.

“Nah, you just think you’re not stressed because you distract yourself with work,” Jimin says. He takes a very long sip of water and then goes to sit beside Hoseok on the floor. Jimin’s the kind of asshole who smells good when he sweats. Piece of shit.

“Christ, did you guys have some sort of summit? Have you all been conspiring to tell me I’m a workaholic who doesn’t have a personal life?”

“Who said that to you? I need to give them a hug.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok says, resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder. He’s sweaty but Hoseok is in distress so he doesn’t care. He could use someone to cuddle; ideally someone with black hair who raps and has cute cheeks and a sweet little smile.

“Alright, low blow. Talk to me, Hoseokie,” Jimin says, putting an arm around him. “What’s got you so panicked?”

“Okay, so Yoongi and Jungkook basically told me that I don’t make enough time for myself, and that I’ve basically given up dancing because I spend too much time at Build-A-Bear,” he says. He dropped Jungkook off at his apartment an hour ago, stewed in the apartment for that hour staring at the TV without turning it on, and then drove directly here. Jimin’s got another class to teach in about thirty minutes, but that’s enough time to vent. It’s enough time to get half of his venting done, at least.  

“I really hate to be an asshole, but you know they’re right, don’t you?”

“I do know they’re right,” Hoseok says, nodding. He hasn’t been here in nearly a year now. He can’t dance in their apartment, because the floors are just too thin, so it’s been about a year since he last did, he always credits dancing as being his favorite thing in the whole world. There’s a saying having to do with a dancer’s true death being when they stop dancing. His excuse is that he’s been working more and more, but he’s the one who keeps choosing to work more and more. He hates confronting this, but it’s about time he starts. How long is he going to be able to be a happy person if he isn’t doing his favorite thing? He spent many thousands of dollars to go to school in order to be the best dancer in the world and he hasn’t even been inside the goddamn community center in a year.

“Does this mean you’re going to dance again, Hoseok?” he asks. Hoseok picks his head off of Jimin’s shoulder to look at him. Jimin notes that he certainly looks like he’s having a hard time. He’s not crying, but the sadness is there on his face anyway. It’s almost like defeat. The dam can only keep the water at bay when the walls are strong.

“Stay for my class, okay?” Jimin says. “Jump in or just sit here, but you’ve got to stay here. And when the class is over, we can just dance for hours, okay? I think you need that. You’ve got to un-rust these joints.” Jimin slaps at Hoseok’s knee and pretends like he’s going to stretch his leg out for him. Hoseok laughs sadly and slouches further against the mirror. It’s heartbreaking, actually. Hoseok is the brightest star in the entire sky, so his light shouldn’t ever flicker. It’s harder to be near a sad Hoseok than it is be around a sad anyone else, because Hoseok is the first person to cheer everyone else up.

“Jimin, Yoongi saw one of those videos you posted to Instagram,” Hoseok says. “He saw it and he was like… ugh, he looked very into what you were doing.”

“Uh oh, that’s why you’re like this,” Jimin says. “It’s not just because you’re finally seeing sense. It’s also because you’re jealous. We both know that I don’t like Yoongi-”

“Yeah, but what if he likes you? What then, Jimin? You asked him if he was single, and now he’s watching a video of you dancing and being all sexy. You’re his coworker so he talks to you more than me, and also you’re… you’re Jimin.”

“But you’re Hoseok,” Jimin says, saying his name back to him like it has the same gravity as his own.

“Jimin,” he whines.

“Maybe he was just trying to make you jealous. I think it’s possible that he already has a crush on you,” Jimin says. Jimin actually doesn’t know Yoongi that well yet. They’re certainly friends, but that doesn’t mean he can read the inner most workings of his mind like he can with Hoseok. Jimin never works at Orange Julius for more than a few hours, and his shifts usually only overlap with Yoongi’s for an hour at the most. Hoseok certainly does spend more time with Yoongi than Jimin does.

“I hate you,” Hoseok pouts, and then puts his head on Jimin’s shoulder again. He’s thankful the mirror is at his back so that he doesn’t have to look at himself right now. He probably looks pitiful. He’s not the crying, balling on the ground kind of depressed right now, it’s more of a dull, sharp feeling that makes him feel like he’s never going to achieve any of his dreams and also, he’ll die cold and alone. He does not need this right now, he really thought his life was going great a few months ago, but now he’s realizing that he’s missing so many things and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’ve got an idea, Hoseokie,” Jimin says, and the very way he says it makes Hoseok know it’s an evil idea.

“What might that be?” Hoseok doesn’t actually want to know. Jimin’s got a very strong, very defined Slytherin streak running through his veins and it’s best to always be careful around him.

“You said Yoongi liked my video,” Jimin says. “Well, what if we were to post a video of you dancing?”

“I don’t even have an Instagram, dipshit,” Hoseok says. Jimin already knows this. Hoseok doesn’t have the time or patience for social media. He stalks celebrities and dog videos on Twitter and that’s the extent of his social media usage.

“Well, but I have several thousands of people who follow me on Instagram. So, what we’ll do is make you an account, and then I’ll take a video of you on my Instagram and tag you in the video. Then I’m going to send it to the group chat to make Yoongi thirsty and voila, you and Yoongi are walking down the aisle. Simple as that.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Jimin sighs exaggeratedly and then looks at Hoseok for several moments. His head is still against Jimin, and he doesn’t seem to be paying all that much attention. Jimin grabs Hoseok’s phone on his lap. He doesn’t even do it sneakily, Hoseok is just too apathetic to argue. He lets Jimin use his face to unlock the screen and accepts the reality that Jimin is making him an Instagram without fighting him on it. It’s hard to fight Jimin. He’s too cute to be mad at, and also he gets scary when he’s mad.

“Let’s see, password… Yoongisfuturehusband69.”

“I hate you,” Hoseok says, covering his face. “Just because you’re making an account doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything.”

“Okay, but we both know that you’re super sexy when you dance. If Yoongi were to see that, I don’t think he could even contain himself anymore. I think he’d fall in love as soon as he saw your bulge, I mean eyes.”

Hoseok punches him in the arm.

“Come on,” Jimin says, standing up. He pulls Hoseok onto his feet which isn’t hard when you’re as lanky and pathetic as Hoseok. “Time to stretch and get ready to make Yoongi fall in love with you.”

“I still haven’t agreed to anything.”

“You will,” Jimin says, sounding sure of himself. When Jimin is sure of himself, it’s best to assume he’s right. Hoseok doesn’t know how he’s going to manage to pull it off, but he’s sure that he will.

***

Jungkook : holy ship

Jungkook : *holy shit

Jungkook : hoLY SHIT

Jungkook : HOLY SHIIIITTTTT

Jungkook’s texts to the group chat come in at about midnight and Yoongi rubs at his temples, sitting in front of his keyboard, looking down at the incoming texts with confusion. He picks up his phone and tries to determine what’s happening. It’s hard to tell if these are good “holy shit”s or bad ones. There are certainly a lot of them.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Everyone else starts to ask what he’s talking about before Yoongi has to, so he waits as little dots appear under people’s names. Seokjin is first to ask, and then Taehyung. All Jungkook sends is a link. Yoongi clicks it, because Jungkook is being far too mysterious for him not to be intrigued. It sends him to an Instagram video which he can’t open because he doesn’t have an account or the app. He rolls his eyes. Whatever it is, it can’t be that important. He doesn’t really want to create an account just to find out what Jungkook is freaking out about.

Taehyung : IS THAT HOSEOK?!?!?!?!?!

Hoseok : …

Jungkook : HOSEOOOOKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!

Seokjin : Dude

Seokjin : Bruh

Hoseok : …

The dots appear by Hoseok’s name repeatedly, but he doesn’t respond to anything. At the sight of Hoseok’s name, Yoongi immediately goes back to click the link and creates an account so fast that he’s worried he spelled his own name wrong. It takes him the three longest minutes of his entire life to create an account, but he’s finally led to Jimin’s page, the same one where he saw the video that Jungkook showed him. The most recently uploaded video, though…

Yoongi immediately runs out of the spare bedroom he uses as his studio. He doesn’t know why but it’s vitally important that he’s on his bed when he watches this. Once he’s on his bed, lying on his side, trying to mess with the orientation of his screen so that he can see the video as big as it’ll get, he clicks on it and unmutes.

There he is. Beautiful, pretty, sexy, gorgeous Hoseok. Dancing. The music is all beat, no real tune, perfect for dancing to. Yoongi’s mesmerized by it. Hoseok moves like water, but his movements are firm and coordinated. He looks like every bit of a professional dancer as Yoongi knows he is. His clothes are baggy, not at all what he’s normally in at work. There’s no real figure to his body in those clothes, it’s all in the way he dances that shows Yoongi how hot he is.

Yoongi doesn’t even realize the video is over until it starts over again by itself. It’s far too short, because Yoongi could watch this video for hours. He watches it again. And then again and again. Then several more times. It’s probably on his tenth watch that he finally reads the caption. “he hasn’t danced in over a year and he’s still better than me.” Jimin links to another account, which has to be Hoseok’s, only for Yoongi to hurriedly click it to find that it’s a completely empty Instagram. Not a single post, not even a bio. The only thing that gives away it’s Hoseok’s account is the fact that it’s his name and the profile photo of Hoseok which Jimin most definitely took without his permission.

He’ll have time to worry about all of that later, right now it’s more important to watch Hoseok dance several more times. He pushes away notifications from the group chat every few seconds as he watches Hoseok over and over again. Oh god, he is not doing okay right now. He is not well. He’s got a fever or an alien virus. Something is wrong and he needs a paper bag to breathe into.

It’s on the twentieth or thirtieth watch of the video that he realizes that Jimin is literally in the background filming Hoseok. He’s sitting on the floor, visible in the mirror. He also appears to laugh excitedly at one point, clearly having the time of his life watching Hoseok be the sexiest man on the planet. Has Jimin been in the video this entire time? Hoseok literally eats the cameras attention so much that there could be a Godzilla attack out the window and you’d still only notice Hoseok.

Yoongi doesn’t know how Instagram works. He clicks like, and then tries to see if there’s a way to download the video to his phone, because he needs this in his life until he dies. He’s not technologically savvy so all he can do is just follow Jimin on Instagram, follow Hoseok, and then send the link to the video to his email in case he ever loses it for any reason.

Then he notices how many people have actually watched the video and his grip tightens. Thousands of people? The video was only posted like an hour ago. How many of those views were Yoongi? He blushes, and then checks to find out that apparently lots of people follow Jimin on Instagram and a quick scroll through his feed makes it easy for him to determine why. Jimin looks alright without a shirt. He looks more than alright.

So, what are people saying about Hoseok then? Yoongi looks at two different comments thirsting over Hoseok before he decides to turn his phone off and lie on his back. He closes his eyes and lets his phone rest on his chest. The phone has stopped vibrating and he wonders when that happened. How long has he actually been in his bed watching that video? Enough to know that Hoseok probably doesn’t have bones and also is probably the sexiest man on the face of the planet. He whimpers softly to himself. He’s not okay right now.

He opens his phone up again after taking a minute to breathe. Lots of people are thirsting over Hoseok. Too many people. Yoongi’s jaw tightens. He knows that most of these are just horny girls scrolling through Instagram before sleep, but he feels himself disliking every single one of them. It’s not like they have a chance when Hoseok is as bent as a boomerang, but he still feels uncontrolled jealousy. If he didn’t already think Hoseok was the prettiest boy in the universe, he certainly thinks so now.

Yoongi opens up the messaging app again to catch up on all the missed texts. Everyone is freaking out over the video. Everyone’s names appear in troves, except Hoseok himself. They’re all ragingly excited that Hoseok has actually danced for the first time in forever. None of them appear to be excited about his body or the way he uses it nearly as much as they are excited for him to have danced at all. Yoongi can’t say anything about how attractive he finds Hoseok in the group chat. That would be inappropriate and embarrassing.

Yoongi thinks about the conversation he had with Hoseok only a few hours ago, which, now that he thinks of it, surely is the cause of this video’s existence. Yoongi and Jungkook maybe put the pressure on him a little too hard, but this is what happens? He goes out and posts a video on Jimin’s account of himself dancing? They must have really gotten through to him. Hoseok wanted to prove to them that he could still dance, and that he hasn’t lost a single one of his skills even in all the time he was away. He certainly achieved his goal.

Yoongi whimpers again. He doesn’t know how to respond to the group chat but he knows that he has to. Everyone else is proud and happy for Hoseok, and yet he’s been radio silence for… fuck, it’s been over an hour since this all started.

He labors over it, trying to contain all the excitement and desire he now feels. He’s going to watch the video for a lot longer and then wait agonizingly hoping that Hoseok posts more videos to his own account. Yoongi’s heart will probably give out, along with thousands of girls, but Yoongi’s broken heart will hurt the most.

Yoongi : Wow. Just wow.

It only takes a few seconds before Hoseok’s dots appear. Yoongi holds his breath. Hoseok responds with a smiling emoji and that’s it. It’s his first correspondence all night. Yoongi wonders if the video was posted specifically for Yoongi to see it. He closes his eyes and puts his hands over his face again. Yoongi scoffs. Jungkook doesn’t even know the meaning of “holy shit.”

IF YOU ENJOYED PART 1 & 2, LEAVE A COMMENT ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN AND SUBSCRIBE TO KNOW WHEN I UPDATE. I’D ALSO LOVE IT IF YOU REBLOGGED THIS POST OR FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR SO THAT MORE PEOPLE WILL GET TO SEE MY FIC. THANK YOU ALL, I LOVE YOU

#jhope #hoseok #yoongi #suga #sope #yoonseok #yoonseok fanfiction #yoonseok fic #yoonseok fanfic #sope fic #sope fanfic #sope fanfiction #suga fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfiction #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #jhope fic #jhope fanfic #jhope fanfiction #hoseok x yoongi #yoongi x hoseok #bts suga #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts

[albapuella]

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter One)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday.

I also tried to be fancy with the html, but it didn't come out right (you will see what I mean). However, I'm leaving it as is for now.

Chapter 1: Inciting Incidents 

Day 0:

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't keep a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't his fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually was his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I am in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

---

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

* Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired? Hot. Attractive. Moderately attractive.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

---

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe TG: wanted to say hey TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE? TG: hell yea dog TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz- TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you

That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this was Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right? CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW? CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT. CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date

Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit TG: but not really TG: cause no offense but i just met you TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks TG: at least a tongue kiss or something TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically TG: thats all kinds of gross TG: forget i said any of that please CG: … CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

---

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

* Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents. I'm going to be murdered. What the hell am I doing?

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.

#homestuck #fan fic #humanstuck #my fic #wip #the html looks fine on my end #don't know why it's messed up when it goes live #*shrugs*

[likesomekindofcheese]

It’s a helluva town (Joe Mazzello x fem! Brazilian! Reader oneshot)

A/N: This was requested by @johndeaconlover​. Here, Joe Mazzello introduces his Brazilian girlfriend to the American metropolis of New York City.

Genres: fluff!

Word Count: 2075

Warnings:  lack of editing, other than some swearing and a hint of mentions of sex, none really.

“Start Spreading the neeeeeeeewwwwwwws, I’m leaving todaaayyyyy!”

 Liza Minelli’s croon was honeying its way out your eardrum and you knew if it weren’t for the claustrophobic plane, someone else’s would too.

“We are all a…”

Joe turned his head to yours with an eyebrow wiggle and a grin on the BAM.

You mouthed “a great big part of it!”

“New! York!”

“New! York! New! YOOOOOOOOOOOOORK!”

The plane was so close to landing. It was not a long plane ride from the place you met, but Sao Paolo and New York City were a long way away.

You tapped anxiously, peering out the window for any sight of the Statue of Liberty. But you were in the middle seat with Joe in the aisle. The desired window seat was taken by a businesswoman in a blue suit and an eye mask who needed the plane trip for a mask, so mouthing along to your NYC playlist had to do to kill time.

It was fair, your boyfriend, Joe, had indulged you in making and listening to a Brazil playlist when you both went over to Sao Paolo to meet your family. Now it was time you saw some of his countries in his favorite city. The city that defined the country of America, even! Every superhero movie, every nineties rom-com, every movie seemed to take place in that mythical, large empire of a town that was both the best and the worst place to be in the world.

As the plane began to tilt to land, the next song popped up from one of Joe’s guilty pleasure musicals.

“New York New Yoooork, a helluva town!”

People began unbuckling their seatbelts and your view from the window was blocked.

“New York, New York, a helluva town

The Bronx is up, but the Battery's down

The people ride in a hole in the groun'

New York, New York, it's a helluva town!”

“C’mon, Y/N! Got your stuff!?” Joe asked, his toes and feet were tapping away as if he had too much coffee.

“Got everything!” you assured him, pointing up to where your carryon was stored. 

You both raced down the airport, large and neverending. The lyrics to that song were still ringing in your ears and those same emotions with it.

Finally, you hopped on the elevator and made your way up, up, up. People were already everywhere. You even noticed a gay couple kissing boldly while riding the escalator down. Buildings and skyscrapers loomed over your head, far taller than your hand could reach, was New York such a place?

“Y/N, I keep forgetting all those words you taught me, what’s the word for sorry?”

“Desculpe, Joe! And it’s okay! It’s not your home tongue.”

“Desculpe! But you’re a wizard at English and it’s not fair my Portuguese is crap,” he said with his hand reaching for yours.

This was the thing with Joe. Despite everything that could have kept you apart, from a city, an ocean, and even a language, you loved each other and wanted to learn everything about the other, and nothing would change that.

Even if it meant a taxi nearly drove right at you, which it did. 

You hopped to the sidewalk with a scream. You had been so transfixed by the buildings you were nearly hit. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, I am! Obrigaga!”

“Obrigada! Dammit, Obrigado!” Joe corrected, switching to what he was supposed to say as a man.

You giggled and assured him it was alright with a kiss on the cheek.

People, people were everywhere. Subways were packed. You clutched onto your purse and backpack nervously, you knew there were thieves that would take advantage of travelers. Joe kept his arm around you. It was a little too public, but you felt safe and that was all that mattered to him.

On the ride, you both agreed you would go to Times Square and get food before settling into the hotel. You had insisted. Times Square was the beating heart of this nightmarish fairy tale and you needed to see it was real. Then finally, here it was. Times Square had a hundred screens in front of you, ads for movies and Broadway shows. There were large department stores with entire music videos showing off their fabulous clothes in front of you. The bright red sign for Coca Cola would alter to become a moving ad for the latest Broadway show. People dressed up as Elmo or Micky Mouse but in rather filthy character costumes lined up all around the area. You clutched Joe’s warm hand and felt your mouth drop a little.

Joe is so happy; everything is perfect at this moment. He flat out takes you to a place empty of people and spins you around. You squeal in happiness, feeling the air rush through you and your hands clutching together. But though the colors and wind swished around you, there was still Joe, clear and in the center of it all.

You had paused, a little breathless. But the wind picked up and you were shivering.“It’s so cold here! How do you not freeze?” you ask, walking away from the little area.“Like this” Joe responds, placing two arms around you.

You nodded and smiled, then leaned over and pecked him chastely. The thought of one bold troublemaker yelling something about a couple kissing made your heart freeze a little.

By the time it was over, you were breathless and laughing very, very hard at all the other tourists with phones, just as excited. Both of you smiled and kissed in again once you had walked away. You both stopped at a small pizzeria. Joe kept insisting that the smaller, local places were the diamonds in the rough people forgot. The pizza itself was so warm it made your nose run a little and you had to use a napkin as a handkerchief. 

“Am I being rude?” you asked demurely, looking to see if any other diner would judge you.

“No, this is rude!” Joe said, he took two extra straws, placing them slightly up his nose.

“Look, I’m a Walrus!” he joked.

You giggled so much you had to catch yourself to breathe. Then you both finished the cheese pizza slices, peeling off the extra melted cheese from the plate and feeling a little sleepy with travel and grease.

As you both passed by the street where your hotel would be, you noticed all of the shops you had passed by. There were more cafes than you could count. Taxies were slowly going through the traffic like big, yellow turtles. But the clothes shops were the most fascinating.

There were shops you had seen in malls and then there were upscale New York shops. Joe had promised he wouldn’t take you to someplace that was unsafe or dirty (or if you did wander off, he would protect you)Those shops, which you could tell were always yellow or white inside their walls. They had tall crystal chandeliers inside, glittering and tinkering. Soft music played in bits when you passed them. You asked Joe to let you pause and admire them for a little bit

But the most spectacular of all were the clothes! Purses as smooth as cream dangled from a mannequins fragile arm. Blouses the color of the ocean bedecked white, blank bodies. But most of all were the dresses. Dresses for jobs, picnics, bars, nice parties, weddings, dinner, meeting celebrities, and other even more glamorous events than you could imagine. 

You paused especially in front of one window displaying the most beautiful gown you had ever seen. It was for the evening with one roman strap draped across the shoulder with diamonds attaching it. The waist was a little cinched and the skirt gently fell down in ripples that would reveal its true size if you twirled around, with layers puffing out around you. 

The best part was the color, it was a rich, royal purple.“It’s so beautiful.” You cooed with eyes wide. You walked over and tried to align your reflection with the display to see what you would look like wearing it.

“I think so too. I love the color.” Joe agreed, scanning over it.

Your head whipped around, snapped from the dream.

“What is your favorite color, Joe? I can’t believe all these months I never asked!” you cried.

Joe nodded with a little laugh and went “purple!”

“Me too!”

You began laughing and high fiving him.

“I never knew!”

You both headed to the hotel and checked in. Your feet ached. You both had ordered Chinese, ate it while watching trashy tv, and then crashed into the bed, falling deep asleep.

The next day, Joe promised a slew of adventures. Sightseeing, museums, dinner.

But that involved lines. And maps. And subways. And people.

Numerous people. More people than you ever thought possible. It was annoying to have crowds squished up next to you as you sat. It was annoying to get a front view of a stranger’s rear end as they held onto the handle on the ceiling as you sat. It was annoying to sit with a couple arguing and duck as a shoe flew past your head in an argument. And it was especially annoying that a whole family took over one cab and kept yelling “selfie!”

Yet Joe was there, nodding patiently and holding your hand. “That’s New York.”

First, there were Rainbow Bagels. They were so warm they brunt your fingers and almost too pretty to eat. Like every hyperactive child’s dream. But you scrapped butter on it and ate it, and Joe made jokes about finding the gold at the end and almost swallowed his whole bagel to find it.

Then there was the Museum of the Moving Image. There was a line. You both waited out in the cold, huddled together, watching the ’94 World Cup on your phone while sharing headphones. Joe kept swearing and cheering at the tiny Brazilians bringing victory much to the cynical amusement of the other people in line and those passing by.

Looking into the museum, he knew just as much as the guides. It was filled with large white walls, and Joe saw an exhibit for Jim Henson and almost ran there. He nearly had his face pressed against the glass where the Big Bird puppet was kept. He pointed and smiled at everything like a child at Disney.

And so did you.

As you passed, you realized that the cacophony had its own music. From the sound of a saxophone accepting coins in a hat to the honks of cars. Visually, it was cacophony too. But beautiful. You noticed a rainbow painting on a building with a punching fist on it and it seemed as grand as any Botticelli.

As you both sat in the subway, dead tired from all the activity, you listened to Rumors by Fleetwood Mac.

Joe poked his head around, turning right and left slowly. There were only a small family and a businessman who hopped off at the last spot.

Now the subway picked up again you were alone.

He looked at you with a wide grin and skipped on your phone to “The Chain.”

“Joe?” you squeaked nervously.

He began to hum along and do air guitars. Then you both were singing at the top of the lungs:

“You would never break the chaiiin!” You both wiggled and did little dances in your seat, sometimes shifting a bit in your seat to the beat. You smiled so wide. You loved this man so much.

But right when it skipped to “Oh Daddy”, Joe was so deep amid his jam session he did not account for the group of teenagers hopping on and staring through their long bangs and frowning braces.

You tapped his shoulder and he looked and then stopped immediately.

But when you got back, you changed into PJs and laughed between laying on the bed, holding each other and exchanging kisses.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, he pulled you down onto his chest. One warm hand was wandering on your thigh, teasing promises for later.

“Expensive, crazy, tiring.”

“Baby, you’re not wrong” Joe agreed smugly.

“But…beautiful, exciting. Magical and just…American, I guess” you sigh. You lay a hand next to your head to gently touch his chest.

Then you give him a glance and smile, getting closer to a kiss, adding “just like you. But you’re better.”

“I’m glad,” he said, sealing it.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzelo x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #carriewrites #johndeaconlover #bohrap cast #bohrap cast fanfiction #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello oneshot

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.2

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

Lucas feels attacked.

Ever since the great Instagram fiasco of last week, Eliott has been liking every single one of Lucas’ new posts. Every. Single. One.

So Lucas, confused and alarmed, could only retaliate by liking all of Eliott’s posts as well.

Their strange little game doesn’t go unnoticed, of course. The universe simply never spares Lucas from such situations. The boys tease him about it endlessly while Emma and Manon circle around the topic like the most unsubtle vultures in existence. Lucas brushes them off with responses so bullshit they drop the subject out of sheer exasperation.

Imane eventually asks as well, probably sick of seeing both sides suddenly liking each other’s posts out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you and Eliott were close,” she says once they’re both settled at the back of the library and for once Lucas would actually prefer it if she focuses solely on their studying.

“Uh, no? Not really,” he fumbles, ever so eloquent.

“That’s a whole lot of likes for a not really.”

“I don’t— I mean— uh…” How does one go about explaining that they’ve literally only interacted for a whole ass week. “His posts are nice.”

“You mean his face is nice.” Imane quirks an eyebrow at him and Lucas rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother to defend himself, pointedly flipping open his textbook so they can start their work.

But when he turns back to his laptop, Eliott’s newest post is still up on his screen. He’d clicked it open while waiting for Imane earlier, huffing out a fond sigh at the photo. Talk to me. How dare he put some obscure, nonsense caption and still look cool doing it? God, he’s whipped for a boy he’s never even properly met and he’s very much aware of how bad this could turn out for him. He likes the post absently, so used to doing it for the past week that it’s more a reflex by now, closing out of the tab before Imane catches sight of his screen.

He forgets about it for the rest of the day— or forget isn’t exactly the right word. More like he stops himself from checking in every other hour and it gets easier to tamper down the temptation once he’s helping Manon and Daphne set up for their sorority fundraiser. He’s turned off the notifications on his phone after every alert tone from Instagram has sent him panicking for no reason other than he’s a complete moron when it comes to Eliott.

The most infuriating thing about the Eliott situation is that Lucas knows they go to the same university. It’s in the description box for Polaris. That had been Eliott’s first year project for film studies. Lucas has seen a glimpse of him multiple times, always surrounded by a group of rowdy boys who look way too intimidating to approach. Not that Lucas would know what to say if he ever grows the balls to go up to him anyway.

“Can you move the pink ones to the far right, please? The colours have to balance.”

Lucas moves the cupcakes, allowing Daphne to maintain the illusion that colour arrangement would actually affect the end result. He checks the time on his phone, making sure he has enough spare time to make it to his part time job later. He has no class on Wednesdays and that’s usually when he covers most of his hours but Basile’s moving to a new place tomorrow and that guy needs all the help he can get.

There’s a small commotion across from them and they all look up to see a large group of girls cheering and clapping about something.

“Why are they set up there?” Daphne exclaims, sounding offended. Lucas turns to Manon for an explanation but she just shakes her head with a tiny smile.

“They came early too, it’s a good spot. It’s not like we can stop them.” Manon shrugs, placing the last plate of cakes on the table. Their entire area is covered with baked goods. He has to watch his steps so as to not stomp all over some backup muffins. Lucas just hopes the sales make enough of a dent so Daphne doesn’t end the day upset with herself, having spent an insane amount of time preparing for this event.

Lucas looks around their booth and then back up to where the other girls have set up what looks to be an imitation carnival game type of thing. He recognizes them as one of the more popular sororities on campus and immediately understands where Daphne’s stress is coming from.

Still, he thinks the girls’ cakes are pretty banging, not to mention they’ve gone above and beyond with the decor. They deserve the same amount of attention.

He gets distracted by another round of loud whoops, and looks over to see six boys crowding around the booth across, with one of them holding a plastic archery set and laughing with his friends when he misses the target. One lanky boy who has practically trademarked that black hoodie and tan jacket combination in Lucas’ eyes.

“Shit,” he mumbles, sliding behind Daphne’s giant signage so that he’s fully hidden from view. He doesn’t know if Eliott would recognize him just from his photos on Instagram alone but he doesn’t want to risk it. Lucas is too sleep deprived to deal with meeting him in person right now.

Alexia arrives shortly after and the girls get distracted enough with finishing up the finer details that Lucas is fortunately left to his own device.

But now that he’s just standing there staring at the trees, nothing stops him from fishing his phone out of his pockets to check on the holy app. He squints down at it, pausing when he sees that he’s got a new message.

srodulv So you’re finally gonna talk to me?

Lucas’ breath hitches. Eliott has no business sliding into his inbox like this. He fiddles with his phone for five agonizing minutes, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t want to take too long, though, because what if Eliott thinks that Lucas is ignoring him?  

lucallemant Hm?

It’s the best he can come up with. He clutches his phone to his chest, peeking around the signage to see if Eliott looks at the message. He sees Eliott reaching for the phone in his back pocket, shuffling a little away from the ruckus at the other booth. Lucas can hear the pounding of his own heart getting louder and his hands start to sweat a little— which, what the fuck he didn’t even really say anything, he needs to calm down. 

srodulv Oh good you responded I was starting to think you’d leave me on read

Lucas twists back into hiding, unable to stop the big dumb smile on his face. 

lucallemant Maybe I should’ve

srodulv What, why? 

lucallemant I don’t even know you

srodulv I’m Eliott :)

lucallemant Wow ur so funny 

srodulv I know Comedy is my passion

Lucas snorts a little too loudly, which makes the girls look over at him in question. He shakes his head, pointing at a student wandering close by so they can sell their food and stop bringing attention to him.

lucallemant Haha

He gets an idea then, hesitating only a little before deciding, fuck it. It's a big campus and Lucas has practice with avoiding people if anything goes wrong.

lucallemant Now go back to your game The point is to hit the target you know

He crouches down and turns a little, watching Eliott's head snap up, bright blue eyes surveying the crowd closely.

srodulv Okay, stalker Where are you?

Lucas waits for Eliott to turn around, searching for Lucas in the wrong direction, before he grabs his bag and kisses the girls on the cheek goodbye.

"You're leaving us already?" Alexia asks, wrapping up a set of cookies her girlfriend wants reserved. 

"Yeah, picked up a shift this evening. See you later!" He jogs out of the crowded area, taking advantage of the traffic to cover him from Eliott's view. 

lucallemant My friends are selling cakes and stuff across from you Lot 3 You should check it out

srodulv Will I see you?

He hops on the bus, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like a lunatic.

lucallemant Go and find out

srodulv  Hmmm The cakes are good But I don't see you

lucallemant Maybe if everything sells out you'll see me

srodulv Okay 

He stares at the response, unsure of what to say next so he lets the conversation go.

And then proceeds to spend his entire shift agonizing over what that okay means. Okay as in that's ridiculous, pal, it's not gonna happen? Okay as in I have nothing else to say so let's end the chat here? What kind of okay does Eliott use in everyday language? Is it positive? Negative? Neutral?

Lucas spills boiling hot water on his finger and gets sent to the back of the kitchen to get his shit together. 

It isn't until he’s headed home that Lucas finds out exactly what Eliott means by it.

His laughter comes out breathy, as if punched right out of his lungs. He’s not sure whether he’s laughing at how glaringly out of place the photo is in comparison to Eliott’s usual posts or if it’s the tingle of pleased disbelief at the thought of Eliott wanting to meet him so bad he takes Lucas’ dumb joke seriously. There’s just no way Eliott’s actually doing this for him. No way.

But then he notices that Eliott had tagged him on one of Daphne’s posts. Curiously, Lucas clicks on it, small chuckles turning into full blown laughter when he sees what it is.

Lucas has to physically stop moving, standing right before his own apartment door as he gapes down at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

srodulv  Thursday, B building at the bridge, 13h

lucallemant Holy fuck

srodulv So I’ll see you? 

And what’s he supposed to do? Say no?

lucallemant  Yes

#skam france #elu #elu insta au #fictag #applaud me for finding aesthetic banana breads for elliott's extra self

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

NOTE: Happy birthday to me! Though this might be posted right AT midnight my time, so technically after my birthday. Also, there won't really be much smut this chapter; just coupley fluff and a hint of steaminess.

                                                        CHAPTER SIX

"Well, you two sure are snug as bugs in a rug."

Chie scowled over at Yosuke as they sat around on the school roof, ploughing their way through plastic bowls of instant miso ramen. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about this." He leaned way forward, headphones slipping around on his neck as he poked his chopsticks between her and Yukiko's arms. And touched both of them. "You've been glued at the hip all day!"

"We have not." Cheeks having taken on the vaguest of rosy tints, Yukiko pretended to find her ramen much more interesting as she daintily drew the noodles into her mouth. She did slurp, but it was somehow a polite slurp; Chie never knew how she did it, while she was over there making enough noise to tell the whole school what she was eating for lunch.

"I mean, do you think I'm dumb? Let me rephrase," he cut Chie off when she held up a finger to respond, taking a deep breath as well. "I'm not dumb. I can see that something's different. Like, all day has been a chick clique, with me and Narukami all benched over here."

"I haven't felt 'benched'," Yu put in very mildly, though he had also been glancing at the two girls just as curiously.

Finally, Yukiko broke her silence, though she was still staring down into her lunch. "I think you're making a lot out of nothing, Hanamura-san. There's nothing wrong with two friends spending time together, especially after going through something so harrowing."

"'Hanamura-san'? Geez, it's like that, huh?" Yosuke sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Listen to Yuki-chan," Chie snapped. "Like, it's none of your business, anyway. But yeah, we're just hanging out! You think it's weird? For two girls to be friends?"

"No! But I don't think that's the only thing going on here." Squinting slightly, he pointed at Chie with his chopsticks again. "I think there's a lot more than just 'gals being pals', y'know? Like, Class S-"

"God, here we go," she groaned with a huge roll of her eyes as she set her bowl aside. "You and your 'everything is dirty' brain, you pervert." She stood up and cracked her neck, then started rolling her arm around to loosen her shoulder. Immediately, he was throwing up both hands to ward her off.

"Wait, wait! Hey, I don't think there's any call for violence, exactly! C'mon, what's the big deal in me pointing out what it looks like?!"

"The 'big deal' is that you're trying to make something normal into some gross fantasy in your brain!"

"Hey, can you blame me? After what we saw in the TV… I mean, your shadows were really into it…"

Instantly, he was being kicked down to sprawl out on his back by a very irate Chie. Limbs flailing everywhere, he tried to fend off the brown loafer that continued to descend upon his face and chest repeatedly for the next few seconds. "AH! CHIE! FOR CHRISSAKE, CUT IT OUT WILLYA?!"

"MAYBE QUIT BEING A GROSS PIG AND I WILL!"

While he was still trying to protect his face, Yu commented calmly, "The gross pig has a point. If shadows are part of who you are, it's not such a strange question to ask."

"Et tu, Yu?" Yukiko sighed, frowning down at her bowl. "Isn't it bad enough we had to be there while you two saw the other us… doing such things?"

"You say that like it wasn't the best show of my life!" Yosuke chuckled — earning him a fresh strike to the mouth with a rubber sole. "RGH! Okay, get off, I'm kinda done!"

Finally reclaiming her spot next to Yukiko, Chie grumbled, "Me too. Like, stop being so disgusting."

"Oh yeah?" He sighed and shook his head. "What a waste lesbians are."

While Yukiko's head began to sink lower, Chie's face burst a few capillaries as she snapped, "WHAT?! Okay — listen, you jackass! Y-you don't even know what you're- and what do you mean, a 'waste'?!"

"Like, that's two less girls for the rest of us," he continued to protest as he stirred his noodles. "Hard enough for some guys to get dates without some chicks pairing off with each other."

Chie took a deep breath to reply… but to her surprise, it was Yu who said, "I think that's ignorant. They should be able to date whoever they want."

"What?" Eyebrows sky high, he snapped, "Yu, bro… how can you stab me in the back like this?"

"Stop being dramatic. And I'm sure there will still be plenty of girls to ask out. Don't you have someone you're interested in? Anyone at all?"

"Risette," he sighed wistfully. When the other three were blinking at him in surprise for a few seconds, he cleared his throat. "I-I mean, that Ebihara is hot. But I dunno, I don't have any game."

"You really don't," Chie confirmed.

"Whoa, shots fired…"

"What do you expect, man? You treat girls like Pocky flavours, just trying to pick which one suits your mood today. Seriously, do you even care about how they feel? Whether or not their personalities match yours? You just seem to care if they have big boobs and nice hair."

Taken aback, he finally set his ramen aside. "What the hell, Satonaka? I thought we were friends, and you're like, totally ripping me a new one here! What did I ever do to you?"

"For starters, you told me and Yukiko that we're 'too close' and a 'waste of space'."

"Hey, I never said 'waste of space'. Just like, a waste of two really gorgeous, available women."

"Lies! You have never thought I was gorgeous."

"Oh. Good point." This time, she actually took her loafer off and threw it at his head. "WHOA! Hey, hey — I wanna live, I WANNA LIVE!"

                                                        ~ o ~

Despite trying her best to focus on positive thoughts, Chie's blood was still boiling well after school let out for the day. She kicked a can down the quaint, lazy street toward the rest of Inaba, still grumbling about how chauvinistic he was and that they were better off not dealing with someone who didn't even see them as fellow humans.

"He isn't that bad," Yukiko snickered. "He could use some work, but… you know he doesn't really believe those things."

"Yeah? Well I think he's worse than we think!"

"How can he be worse than you think if you already think he's worse?"

"That's… well…" Pouting, she watched her footsteps for a while as they paced through the homey little downtown district. "Y-you know what I meant. Like, I know he's a boy, but so is Yu and at least he's halfway decent. There's no excuse!"

"Maybe not." They were quiet for a moment. "Um, do you want to stop by Souzai Daigaku? Grab a couple of croquettes?"

Chie knew what she was doing. Obviously this was a ploy to distract her from her ranting about their friend's misogynistic tendencies. And… it worked, but only because she knew Yukiko didn't like gossiping all that much and wanted to spare her. "For sure. I crave meat — oh, and a lemon soda."

"Okay," Yukiko chuckled as she slid her arm through Chie's. The action seemed to bring both of them to a sudden halt, and she blinked. "Oh. That's strange, I… I didn't mean to do that. But it felt very…"

"Natural," Chie supplied. After only a tiny hesitation, she raised a hand to rest on Yukiko's wrist, keeping her there. "It's cool. I don't think anybody's gonna pay attention… we probably won't, uh… be noticed…"

Nodding her agreement, they continued to walk arm in arm. Despite her confident words, Chie's heart was racing. Somebody was going to call them yuri — make some kind of gay joke, or even just a simple catcall would be a fate worse than death. But maybe they wouldn't be seen at all.

They were.

"Ohhh, so pretty!"

The two looked around for a moment, trying to find the source of the compliment and figure out why it was even made. But nobody was closeby. Had they imagined it?

"Oh!" Yukiko breathed when she finally looked down.

A small elementary school girl was standing in front of them, wide smile and brown pigtails radiating pure innocence. Her little pink dress was on over a white turtleneck. Chie found herself wanting to pick her up and put her on a shelf, she was so adorable.

"Awww, hello there!" she gushed with an equal grin.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The girl gave a little bow. "Are you two on a date? I didn't mean to stop you!"

"Wh-WHAT?!"

But Yukiko led with, "N-no, it's okay. But what did you think was pretty?"

"You! I mean, I've never seen a girl as pretty as you, ever — 'cept maybe Risette! But she's a star. Nobody as pretty as Risette would be in Inaba."

While she was still trying to recover her voice, Chie squatted down to ask, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm Nanako." Then she seemed to remember her manners and bowed. "N-nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she chuckled. "And you're right, this is the most beautiful woman in the whole world."

"Really?" she breathed in wonder — while Yukiko made flustered noises beside her.

"Yep! And we're really lucky to see her! They say she only appears to little girls who have been really good this year."

While Nanako was looking completely enthralled, Yukiko tutted, "Don't fill that poor girl's head with nonsense!" But she was blushing a bright red to match her sweater.

"Sorry," Chie laughed, though she didn't sound especially sincere about her apology, before she turned to pet the little girl on the head. "It was nice meeting you, but we have a date with meat."

"Okay!" she breathed, still obviously very taken with the idea of a magically appearing prettiest girl in the universe. She waved distractedly as the two moved off toward the restaurant.

"Well she didn't seem to mind that we were arm-in-arm."

Yukiko smiled through her rosy, embarrassed expression. "You're terrible. But… I suppose I appreciate the compliment. Thank you."

Now they were both flustered. Luckily, their trip to Souzai Daigaku in silence could help them temporarily forget they were in the middle of such a touchy, anxiety-inducing conversation.

Which only lasted until Chie was halfway through her order of way too many croquettes. Yukiko had mostly just been watching her devour them with wide eyes, both disgusted and impressed as she nibbled at her own single croquette.

"WHOO!" she burst out. "This is great! Time for dinner now."

"Time for- you really are a bottomless pit." When Chie only saluted like an American soldier, she giggled. "Wow. Do you want to head into Aiya for a beef bowl? I'm not hungry, but… I don't mind spending more time with you."

Obviously that got her best friend grinning like a loon. "R-really? I mean, you know I'm going to be taking the portal to the meat dimension."

"Oh? I thought they only served that on rainy days."

"Well… they'll make it for me, since I'm one of their best customers. But I have to pay more if it's not raining. Seems like a fair trade-off." She finished off her croquette and stood. "Ready?"

Still caught off guard, she blinked and stood beside Chie. "Lead the way."

The Chinese diner happened to be right next door to the croquette stand, so it wasn't as if they had a long walk ahead of them. Chie pulled her to the door by the hand, and Yukiko stumbled briefly before adapting to the quickened pace, sliding her arms around her prince's to steady herself. All smiles. They were so giddily in love, even though they hadn't been at all aware of said love a couple of days ago. Life could change so fast…

"Welcome!" said a girl in a red apron with short blue hair and a white scarf covering most of it — which was most of what one could see, given that she was already bowed low in greeting. "How may we serve you?"

"Hey, Nakamura!" Chie said casually enough. "Not out on deliveries today?"

The server straightened and shrugged with a smile. "Nope, Satonaka-san." Clearly she was being formal because they were customers, but her tone and expression was full of familiarity. "Booth in the back?"

"Sure! And you already know what I want. Yukiko?"

"Oh, just a small order of zhēngjiǎo," she told her with a wave of her hand. "And green tea. Thank you, Aika-chan."

"With chicken?" Yukiko nodded, and Aika beamed. "I'll have those out for you right away. Please have a seat."

They made small talk until their food arrived a few minutes later. Chie plunged into the mega beef bowl with gusto while her new girlfriend daintily nibbled at her plate of steamed dumplings. Halfway through, she began to pet up and down Chie's back with her free hand.

"Hmhg?" Chie asked around a mouthful of beef, eyes wide when she turned them on her. Yukiko giggled, which only made her grin — while morsels of food dropped from her lips.

"YUCK!" she cackled, while Chie blotted at her mouth with a napkin. "I'm actually dating a pig!"

After having swallowed down the rest of her mouthful, she laughed and nudged Yukiko with her shoulder as she started to dig into the fried egg on top of the bowl at last. "Sorry, sorry. But like, it was hilarious watching you get grossed out." Which only earned her the daintiest tongue sticking out at her.

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence for a few more minutes. This time, when Yukiko pet her back, Chie didn't overreact; just hummed and relaxed into the gentle touch. It really was a night and day difference. Instead of making them feel awkward and weird, now it was warm, and safe… it felt like a little piece of home could be created wherever and whenever they chose.

"I really… can't believe how easy this is."

"Mm," Chie hummed around her mouthful before reaching over to lay a hand on her bestie's forearm under the table. Once she managed to chew and swallow it down, she whispered, "It's pretty crazy, I can't believe I'm starting to get used to this. Keep thinking you're going to snap out of it and like, tell me to get away from you. Because I'm… whatever it is I am."

Yukiko tutted at her as she wrapped both arms around Chie's, laying her head on her shoulder. "You say that like it's just you. Not both of us. Maybe you had those thoughts about me first but clearly I'm not running away. So…"

When she didn't finish right away, she prompted, "What?"

"So, um… don't be so…" She swallowed. "Don't be mean to yourself. Don't put it all on you, especially when I'm happy. This is a good thing, not a death sentence."

"O-oh, I never- I didn't mean it was bad! Just like, weird, and it's gonna get people saying weird stuff about us. Like Yu and Yosuke already keep doing."

"They should be ashamed of themselves," she sighed as she dipped another jiaozi into the tiny pool of sauce. "Well… Yosuke should especially, but Yu was also too persistent."

Shaking her head, Chie stirred the contents of her bowl angrily. "Oughtta stomp all over those two. Like, it's none of their business! I don't care what they saw in the TV!"

"Shhhh, I'm sorry." Yukiko pet her thigh now, kissing the side of her neck. "I didn't mean to get you upset. Even though I do agree with you. So… relax, alright? Enjoy the meal."

But that presented a brand new development for Chie. Her stomach fluttered as she realised they weren't just cuddling, or being good friends. Food was now completely gone from the forefront of her mind. They were together, in public, and Yukiko was touching her leg. That thin uniform skirt was the only protection from getting to fully enjoy the warm smoothness of her dainty hand.

"Y-Yuki-chan…"

"What? Is something wrong?"

The hand came to a stop, yet Chie was still breathing shallow and rapid when she said, "O-oh, nothing, I just… I'm having a good time. With you! Yeah, with you, um… h-honey."

Both Yukiko's flawlessly-shaped eyebrows shot up. "Honey?!"

"SHHHH!" she hissed at her desperately. "I don't know, I've never had a girlfriend before! Or boyfriend! An ANY-gender-friend!"

"Oh, my honey!" Yukiko snickered in English, entire face lighting up. Lapsing back into her native tongue, she purred, "I think it's really sweet. Funny, but sweet."

"Oh, shut up, Honey!"

"Wow, that isn't very nice. And here I'm being so affectionate toward you."

Though Chie's mouth opened to protest, no sound came out when she felt impossibly soft lips barely pressing into the corner. This was insane! Anybody could see them — anyone from school, from in and around their neighbourhoods. The proprietors of Aiya. All of Inaba. Not only was the hand still teasing her leg, but it seemed to be heading down toward her knee. The hem of her skirt.

"Yukiko… this is so bad, what happens if they catch us?! We're gonna be out to the whole freaking town!"

Snickering a little, the innkeeper whispered into her ear conspiratorially, "Nobody's watching us, I promise. Look around." Her other hand casually gestured to the inside of the restaurant, where couples, men dining alone, groups of students eating while they studied, filled its interior. None of them were looking in their direction.

"A-ah. But…" Chie licked her lips as she felt her skirt being hiked up by the playful fingertips. "They could still… turn around and see you doing this… isn't that illegal, anyway?"

A little at a time, Yukiko's playful smirk faded and she dipped her head as her hand came to a stop. "Sorry, my Prince. I guess I just really want to make you feel good, and it seems exciting to do it right here, but... you're right, it's too risky. I don't know what got into me!"

"Oh, hey…" She put an arm around Yukiko's shoulders, pulling her in close against her body. "I'm not mad or anything. Just like, freaked out at the idea. Do you still wanna try it?"

"No," Yukiko told her with a small smile. "Well… yes, but it isn't that urgent. We should finish our food."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I don't want to make you choke on your beef bowl, anyway."

A little snort fell from her girlfriend's lips. "C'mon, I could handle both at the same time. Probably. I'm only iffy about it because I don't wanna get caught and thrown out of my favourite restaurant."

"Really? Because I don't think I could!" They both laughed a little, and Yukiko leaned up to kiss her cheek again. "But if you're sure you don't mind experimenting… we could see what happens."

"Yeah." She nodded to further drive home how serious she was. "Hit me. If I can't handle it, I'll tap out."

"Tap out?"

"Yep! You know, in American wrestling when they're… done with… yeah, no reason you would know that. They tap the mat in a super obvious way to show they give up. So like… I'll do this."

When Chie tapped the edge of her bowl twice with her chopsticks, Yukiko's eyes hyperfocused on the action and she nodded. "Ah, I see! Yes, I will definitely understand that action's meaning now."

"It's not that serious," she muttered. But then Yukiko was petting the inside of her thigh again, and all she could do was grunt to keep from moaning. "O-ohhhh… oh, we're… starting again."

Not just starting. Yukiko's nimble digits were making their way straight to her panties, no waiting. Chie felt her stomach disappear as she anticipated the touch hitting home at last. Any second now…

"YOU."

They both nearly fell off their chairs at the sudden sharp word issued from so close by. Trying not to appear as flustered as they were, the two girls looked up to see a near-flawless face gazing down at them marred by a haughty, annoyed expression. Her blonde-highlighted hair hung around her face in elaborate curls that had obviously taken a long time to fashion, just brushing the lacey pink choker wrapped around her throat — like Chie already wished her hands were, and they had barely begun a conversation.

"Ebihara," Chie breathed as her blood ran cold.

"What?" Ai Ebihara snapped, resting a hand on one hip as she cocked it out to the side. "Can I help you with something?"

"Uhhhhh, you came up to me, dude. What do you want?"

That response made her scoff loudly. "Nothing from some bowl-cut reject. I was talking to the priss."

While Chie was trying to ignore the vein throbbing in her forehead, Yukiko sat up a little straighter and pointed at her own chest. "Me?!"

"God, you're both idiots. There are only two people at this table, so if it's not the bowl cut, guess who it has to be?"

"Hey, watch it," Chie warned her as she leaned an elbow on the table. "Tell us what the hell you want or get out of here."

Scowling at her, Ebihara flipped her hair over her shoulder gracefully before edging into a chair across from them. Which was exactly the opposite of what they wanted; they were kind of in the middle of something! Couldn't she go away and come back another day, much like other black clouds?

"You have something I'm after. Give me that and I'll leave you to your pedestrian food."

Yukiko must have been sensing that her friend was going to stand up and shout at the interrupting annoyance, because she started petting up and down her thigh again. Soothing this time rather than teasing. "And what might I have that you want? I'm sorry, but I truly don't know."

"Narukami," she said without preamble.

"What about Narukami?" Chie asked suspiciously.

"I want him."

The other two girls exchanged a look. Where the hell was this coming from?! "U-uhhh…"

"Don't act so surprised. He's such a tall, mysterious stranger from so far away… practically the only boy at Yasogami who's remotely interesting. And you have been hogging him to yourself long enough. Fork him over."

"Wait, wait," Yukiko giggled nervously, hand flexing on Chie's thigh. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from letting out a yelp of surprise. "You don't think… I'm actually dating Yu, do you?"

"I didn't say anything as heavy as 'dating'," she shot back with a roll of her honey-hued eyes. "But I've seen you two together a few times. How you smile at him. It's loathsome, but I can't deny you have an in with him that I do not… yet."

"We're friends, Ai-san. That's all, I promise!"

Her eyes narrowed as Yukiko pet higher. Chie had to fight to stay focused on the conversation. "Hmm. I could almost believe you…"

"Please do. I have no reason to lie to you."

"Very well. Let's say you are being straight with me. How can I turn his little grey-haired head — what's the story with that grey hair, too? Dye job, genetic thing?"

Before this point, Chie had been mostly nodding along, waiting for the tortuous exchange to come to an end. But something going on beneath the table now had her undivided attention. Yukiko had not stopped in her advance. Her fingers were now teasing the insides of her thighs dangerously close to her center as she kept her eyes pointed squarely at Ebihara.

"U-um…" But when their guest turned a glare on her, she shut up.

"Yu seems to really enjoy a lot of things," Yukiko quickly said to draw her attention back.

"A lot of… things." Ai raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that seriously as specific as you can get?"

"N-no, not at all. Maybe… if you could be more specific yourself, I can be more helpful. I don't mind, I'm just not sure exactly what your goal is."

As Ebihara contemplated, Chie found herself wondering the same question about Yukiko. What was her goal?! There was no way they were actually going to test out their friendship's newfound sexual component while sitting across a restaurant table from the prima donna of Yasogami High. Was there?!

"Well, I guess I'm curious why he hasn't asked me out yet," Ebihara said as Aika returned to their table. "Ever since I was made manager of the… I'm sorry, may we help you?"

Blinking at the cold tone, the waitress said, "U-um, I was going to ask the same thing. What can I get you, miss?"

"Nothing from this craphole." But when nobody followed up that statement, and Aika just scowled, she sighed. "Green tea. Unless you do boba here." The wince was enough to communicate they did not, so she sighed and waved her away, "Just regular old tea then, and take your time. I don't eat at places like this."

As poor Aika stomped away, Chie grunted, "You could h-haaaave been nicer to her."

Unfortunately, that near-moan didn't escape Ai's notice. "Your time of the month or something? You look like you're having some wicked cramps."

"Y-yeah," she said, figuring it was the easiest explanation. The girl made a disgusted face but didn't further pursue that line of questioning; all girls understood that one, right? Plus it took the heat off her from Yukiko's fingers gliding slowly up and down along her slit through the all-too-thin fabric of her undergarment.

"Anyway, I think he's really cute, and he irritates me a lot less than the other boys on the team. Plus when he works up a sweat during practice…" For a brief moment, while she was biting her lip and trying not to smile, she almost looked like a normal girl.

"So you have a crush on him," Yukiko said as casually as she could… while still driving her best friend crazy.

"Uh, yes? Hello? What other conclusion could you reach from what I just said?!"

"Of course, of course. Well, why don't you just ask him out instead?"

Ai scoffed and pressed a hand to her chest as if scandalised by the very notion. "ME?! Look at me. I'm stunning, and I work hard to be this stunning. What's the point in doing so if not so that the boys are the ones to fall at my dainty feet?"

Chie had to chance it, even though she was very nearly panting like a dog in heat. The comment was begging for a rebuttal. "I've… never h-heard someone describe their own feet as dainty before."

"Yeah? Well, stay tuned for more originality, courtesy of moi." Even though she was so elegant-looking, it was such a jarring, brutish move when she suddenly slapped her calf on top of the table, making the dinnerware clatter. "LOOK. Look at them."

Yukiko and Chie both blinked down at her now-shoeless foot. It was covered by her white stockings, of course, but it seemed dainty enough in size. So Chie said, "Yep, that's a foot."

"It, um, seems lovely?" Yukiko attempted. As the leg mercifully withdrew before the proprietor of Aiya saw it and was offended at such a rude display, she continued, "I also envy how trim you are, Ai-san. How do you stay in shape? Chie does a lot of sports training and martial arts."

"Mostly diet," she told them smugly as she pulled out a compact and preened slightly. Chie wondered idly how anyone could be so self-absorbed. "And a little time on my elliptical at home every evening. Gotta burn those calories. What about you?"

Caught off guard by the question being turned around on her, Yukiko smiled demurely as she went back to teasing Chie harder. Her throat constricted to cut off a very genuine moan. "Oh, nothing in particular. Portion control. Though my duties at Amagi Inn do tend to keep me very active."

"Really? I can't believe that — you're way too perfect for that to be the whole story. What is it, kale? Juice cleanses? Do you…"

For a little while, Chie lost track of the conversation. Her entire focus was on those fingers playing over her growing wetness. Luckily the diner was full of pungent, savoury aromas or she would really have been in trouble — no way she wasn't stinking up the place with the scent of her arousal by now. All she wanted was to drag Yukiko off to the bathroom for a glorious finish, but she wasn't sure she would be able to stand just now. Besides, it would be the only move even more conspicuous than what they were already doing.

"...definitely working," Ebihara was finally relenting when she refocused, trying to block out the urges to moan and roll her hips by distracting herself. "But yeah, loan me that when you get the chance."

"Of course." Yukiko only occasionally glanced at Chie, to make sure she wasn't distressed or angry. And since Chie was trying to look politely interested in the conversation, it never showed how intolerable this whole situation was for her, so she went right back to petting and chatting. "And as I said, I don't know what sort of perfume he prefers, but anything should be fine. But knowing Yu, I don't think he would care about the brand if you name-dropped."

Ai's brow furrowed slightly as she tapped the surface of the table. Meanwhile, Chie was doing the same with one of her legs, jiggling it up and down in an attempt to abate the feelings assaulting her. In fact, it made them worse… but even after realising that, she couldn't seem to stop. She needed to get off now.

"Well, he certainly does look at me like he likes what he sees. What the hell's his problem? What more do I have to do?"

"It's probably a courage problem," Yukiko told her — while pressing two fingertips harder against Chie's clit. Which was throbbing so hard it didn't even present a challenge for her to find through the panties. "He hasn't worked up enough to ask someone as pretty as you out yet. Give him time, or make your own interest more obvious, since you said you didn't want to ask him yourself."

Ebihara tapped her chin. "You know, even though you're just a townie, I think you have a point. I won't outright ask him, but I could flirt a little. I'm just used to the boys making all the moves on me."

"A-ah…"

"Hm? Something wrong, Satonaka?"

"N-nah," Chie tried to cover. In reality, she had been unable to suppress that moan when Yukiko's fingers inadvertently tensed upon being called 'just a townie'. Despite the reason, it had felt too good against her greedy flesh. "Still my… red tide. Mm, what would you do? To flirt."

Looking at her a little funny, Ebihara shrugged. "I don't know. That's not really my thing; I prefer to have them chasing me. But I guess I've thought about it before, just in theory."

"So, u-um, try out some lines. Maybe we can tell you if they're- nhh… if they're too cheesy."

"Fine. Guess there's no reason not to." While Chie's hips began to squirm back and forth, the orgasm so close now, Ai preened at her hair a little more before leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her folded hands. "Hey there. What's a nice guy like you doing on a crummy team like this?"

"I don't think that's very kind," Yukiko put in — while circling her best friend's clit harder than ever. "Try not to put down the team, he might take offense."

"But they really are a crummy team. Well, except for Kou-chan…" Her expression flickered, and it almost looked a bit wounded for a moment — before she recomposed herself into the usual arrogance. "Okay, you're probably right. Let me try something else."

"Please," Chie begged. Though it was actually for release and not another flirtation demonstration.

"Wow. You just made yourself my guinea pig, Bowl Cut." Chie wanted to be mad…

But an instant later, Ai's hands were delicately taking up the one of hers that was resting on top of the table. Her eyes softened as she looked up into Chie's, slightly wetted lips parting as her throat worked to swallow, as if nervous.

"I know… I haven't been the manager for very long, but… I really like seeing you every day. And you're so strong, and athletic… not to mention easy on the eyes. I wouldn't mind spending a little more time with you, okay? One on one."

"Really?" Chie half-panted, just barely able to keep from making it completely obvious what was happening under the table. "One on one, h-huh? What for?"

Anyone would have been able to tell Ebihara was fighting down some variety of "Are you stupid?" response. But after the brief flicker of ire, she leaned further forward, showing a slight glimpse of her collarbone beneath her school uniform, the very top of her cleavage. Her eyes were sparkling, lips parted even more as she began to heave for breath. Chie responded in kind… because she couldn't stop herself from letting the desire show through anymore. Even if it wasn't actually desire for the person in front of her, at least it came across like she was playacting for the sake of aiding their classmate.

"To make all your wildest dreams come true. Listen…" One hand still holding Chie's, she let the other one raise up to graze well-manicured fingernails up and down along the inside of her forearm. Goosebumps raced over her skin. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, and…" She feigned being shy, biting her lip and looking away.

"And?" Chie prompted hastily, riding the edge as Yukiko sped up her efforts. A quick glance over showed she was curious to see what might happen next.

Looking back up, the normally snooty girl leaned so close their noses were almost touching, voice dipping down into a husky whisper. "And I want… you to be my first. Will you claim my body?"

Well damn.

This orgasm was the hardest yet, and it bowled over Chie with such a force she had no way to prepare. A moan started to burble up past her lips, and had just barely begun when she belatedly realised that even though her entire mind was consumed with the taboo of this activity, with the sheer potency of the climax itself, she still had to keep the whole diner from figuring out what they were doing. What a nightmare, what an impossible situation!

Which she made worse, because in her Cro-magnon brain's efforts to stop the noise, it sought the easiest avenue possible when there was a set of pouty lips a mere inch away from her own.

"MM!" Ai grunted when she felt the kiss begin, the hand holding Chie's clamping down hard so that her nails bit into the skin of her palm. But when Chie grasped it back just as hard, she sort of… melted. Just for a few seconds, they were really kissing each other while Chie's climax made her hips roll against the punishing fingers, milking that moment for all it was worth.

Then Ai drew back and smacked her across the face.

"OW!" she yelped, completely shocked. "Wh-what-"

"EXCUSE YOU!" she gasped out, cheeks flaming red now despite her furious expression. "This was supposed to be acting, not with… with actual… th-that was too far!"

Though Yukiko looked quite thoughtful, she still put in, "Actors kiss all the time. Even in school plays. I think she was just really into the scene."

"Y-yeah," said a dazed Chie, brain too foggy from orgasm afterglow and the stunning blow to her face to say much more.

"W-well, I… I didn't say we could do that, so it was very rude to do it without asking!" The prissy girl pushed her hand into her mouth. "GOD, I kissed a girl and I didn't even hate it — I'm a yuri. At least she didn't steal my first kiss! Then I would be really mad, you don't even know!"

"She didn't?" Yukiko asked curiously, even while smirking playfully at the flustered Chie. Apparently, they would be talking about this at great length later. "Who was your first kiss?"

"Some boy I- oh, nevermind! Screw you two perverts, you're crazy!" She hastily got up from the table, then stumbled a little before sitting back down. "UGH! And if I didn't take off my shoe earlier, I could have stormed out of here and looked much cooler! DAMN it, I'm having the worst day!"

                                                         To Be Continued…

#We'll Face Ourselves #persona 4 fanfiction #forkanna writes #p4 fanfic #chiko #jess the writer #Happy Birthday

[notveryglittery]

Flirting With Danger, Ch7

summary: Virgil hates his job and also his life. Logan definitely, for sure knows how to talk to a cute guy without imploding. Remy tries to help, but like… not very hard. words: 2,000 / ships: platonic sleepxiety, romantic analogical notes: hi, did you miss us!! we’ve been at this for awhile but i’m very happy with the result!! @do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them​ is back at it again with lines that make me giggle helplessly :’) 

read on ao3 | Ch1: the first time | Ch2: *mcelroy voice* hotboy! Ch3: sky soliloquy | Ch4: the interview™ Ch5: you have my heart | Ch6: the second time Ch7: is this allowed??

“Rem… please. I have a splitting headache and you are not helping.”

The string of offended curses that followed weren’t helping either. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe if you would just tell me what happened last night, I wouldn’t have to bother you so much about it!”

Virgil took the bell ringing above the door as his chance to get away from his coworker and the relentless badgering. Remy had been at it since Virgil showed up for his shift — which had been a miracle all its own. Of course he hadn’t wanted to leave Patton home alone! Virgil was starting to think he shouldn’t leave Patton alone ever. Sure, he’d been clumsy and accident-prone in their youth but this was kinda getting out of hand. For as long as they’d been living together, Patton had never had encounters with superheroes or supervillains, and suddenly it happens twice in the span of a few weeks? If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d guess that Patton did have powers, and they were of the bad luck variety.

“Babe. I’m going to find out one way or another.”

Oh, Virgil recognized that tone.

“That’s your ‘I already know but I want your version of the story’ voice.”

Again, spluttered indignation. Virgil knew people often didn’t disagree with Remy (something about his “charm”) but it’d never cease to amaze him how offended he was every time Virgil called him out on something.

“I have no such thing!”

“You kinda do,” Toby called from a booth in the corner where he was currently working on designs for tomorrow’s board.

Remy shot a glare in his direction.

“Linda, your caramel macchiato with soy.”

The moment Linda was out the door and their coffee shop empty, Remy rounded on Virgil.

“Fine! Why was the Prince at your apartment last night!”

Virgil, despite knowing that Remy knew, was still surprised.

“And why was he bridal carrying Patton as if they were newlyweds!”

Virgil blinked, wondering why Remy seemed so hung up on that of all things.

“Does this have anything to do with that attempted jewelry store robbery?”

“Why do you need to hear anything from me when you apparently have all the details?” Virgil frowned. “What the hell, dude, do you have ears everywhere?”

Remy waved his hand dismissively. “Hon, don’t worry about it, just tell me what happened!”

Virgil glanced around the coffeeshop. For the time being, it was empty. They’d just reached that rare slow time between rushes. Other than Toby, who Virgil didn’t mind overhearing anyway since Remy was likely to share with him afterwards regardless, there was no one around to eavesdrop. Sighing, Virgil let Remy wait a few more agonizing minutes while he cleaned up from the last drink and washed his hands before finally getting comfy leaning against the counter.

“Patton accidentally tripped the speedster while they were trying to make their getaway,” Virgil began, trying to ignore the anxiety doing its best to make him worry again. It was in the past! It already happened! Let it go, Virgil. “That kind of fucked up his ankle and then, when trying to remove himself from the situation, he hurt his hand on some glass that had broken from the door.”

Remy was looking more and more distraught with each word and Virgil wondered why his coworker was so worried about his roommate when they hadn’t even met.

“The Prince found out somehow and met Patton at the hospital and offered to help him home. Which, like, that isn’t totally weird. I’m definitely not bothered over this superpowered stranger being so good at finding my best friend, nope, no big deal at all.”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Remy interrupted. “He probably talked to the police, babe, it’s fine. Besides, he already knows where you live so… whatever, right?”

Virgil scowled at him. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Did you give him a piece of your mind?” Toby asked, getting them back on track.

“Did I — No shit, Sherlock!” Virgil snapped. “I’d been trying to get a hold of Patton because he was supposed to be home before me and he wasn’t answering and then I open the door to find him there, in the arms of that hot-headed prick?!”

“No proof that his highness has a temper,” Remy piped up.

“Shut up, it was a pyrokinetic joke and you know it. Anyway, Patton was… already pretty upset and my yelling didn’t help, so that… Uhm.” Virgil trailed off, looking guilty all of a sudden. Remy had a pretty good inkling as to why, but before he could mention it, the bell ringing notified them to another customer. They all quickly pretended they hadn’t been standing there talking for the last ten minutes, but as soon as Virgil looked up, he forgot how to act productive. Logan Roberts? In his coffee shop? It was, apparently, more likely than he thought.

“Uh- hey, welcome,” he said once he remembered how to talk.

Logan smiled, which wasn’t fair. “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Virgil thought he might have been teasing, but he still looked so serious, and anyway he was already spilling out words like the gay dumbass he was. “No—we were just, I was telling them about something that happened to my friend yesterday—sorry, I’m an idiot, what did you want? To order?” He cringed as internally as possible and started making plans to never speak again.

Logan took a moment to peruse the menu while Virgil wondered how bad it would look if he ducked out of this particular order and let Remy take care of it. Before he could do so, Logan looked back at him, smiled again, why did he keep having to smile, and spoke.

“I’ll take a black coffee in the largest size you have,” he requested, and Virgil wanted to disappear because of course it was Logan Roberts's first time at their coffeeshop and of course Virgil had to be the one to ring him up.

“On it, babe!” Remy chirped, getting started on the drink, and sounding suspiciously like he knew exactly the gay crisis Virgil was currently experiencing.

Logan's expression soured at the nickname and Virgil hurried to remedy it.

“Ignore him,” Virgil suggested, typing the order into the register. “I'm sure you've dealt with more annoying, anyway.”

“Hey!” Remy shouted.

Logan sighed and adjusted his tie. “Quite,” he agreed, taking out his wallet. “I'm going to need this to interact with certain of my own associates later.”

“At least you’re not interviewing any super-powered pricks today.”

Logan blinked, looking at him with renewed interest. “True. I have to say, it’s refreshing to meet someone else who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. …Or flies over, as it may be.”

“Same thing I thought watching your interview, dude.” Virgil cracked a smile at the memory, which he hardly ever did for anyone but Patton. “It was, uh… good.” Yes. Great job, Virgil, that wasn’t lame at all. “Patton, though—that’s my roommate—he never shuts up about him. And now I can’t even be annoyed, ‘cause he went and got himself hurt yesterday…” Virgil realized he was rambling, only digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness.

Logan, however, had perked up even more.

“Patton Minett?”

In a heartbeat, Virgil was on red alert. He eyed Logan suspiciously as the reporter swiped his card to pay for his drink. “... No.”

“You’ve lived with him for years but go off, I guess,” Remy deadpanned in the background.

“Apologies,” Logan said hurriedly. “I merely wondered if this was the same Patton who prevented a robbery last night. I’ve been trying to find a way to get in contact with him in order to hear the details directly from the source, you see. …If you knew him, I might have asked you to aid me in that endeavor.”

Virgil crossed his arms, searching Logan’s face for anything to actually justify that first instinct of telling him to fuck off. … It wasn’t really his job to decide Patton shouldn’t do this, was it?

“If I know him,” he finally said, “which I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t go around giving people his information just because they said they wanna talk to him. How about you tell me how to contact you, and then if I know him and if he wants to, he’ll call you or whatever.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Logan remarked wryly. “But I suppose I’m not opposed to your proposal.” He blinked, processed what he’d just said, and winced. “That, ah, was not intentional. Here, before I embarrass myself any further.” He pulled a tiny notepad out of his pocket, because obviously he was the sort of person to carry a tiny notepad around at all times, and scribbled down a phone number. “I hope to hear from you soon,” he said with a smile, and then left before Virgil could collect himself enough to respond. And also without waiting for his coffee. Oops?

“Huh.” Remy watched him walk away, not quite caring enough to run outside and remind him. “Guess he doesn’t get to see that I wrote your number on this cup now.”

“You WHAT?!”

Virgil grabbed the coffee cup out of his hand and slam dunked it into the trash.

“Aww. I was gonna drink that.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore, I’m going on break, do not even try to exist near me or I swear.” He yanked his apron over his head, balled it up, and threw it to the side with only a small glance to make sure it wouldn’t land in a bad place and, like, cause a fire or something. Which was his version of carelessly.

Toby spoke up from his booth, where he’d been shamelessly eavesdropping on everything. “He’s going to scream into a towel, isn’t he?”

“Yup.”

Logan realized he had no coffee before he’d even made it all the way out the door, but it was too late, there was nothing to be done at this point. There was no way he could go back and stand at the counter until it was finished… much like there was no way he could ever set foot in that coffeeshop again. What a disaster. Logan was very good at ordering coffee and very good at establishing contacts to assist in his work, but apparently when the two combined he became completely useless, which had nothing to do with any hypothetical cute baristas he may have particularly wanted to make a good impression on, why would some equally hypothetical person even suggest that? Preposterous.

The mood he found himself in for the rest of the day, resulting from various factors such as “no caffeine” and “series of interpersonal screwups,” meant that everyone else mostly avoided him. Unfortunately, this left him with a lot of time to think. He spent most of that time attempting to rephrase the thought “I hope Virgil calls me soon” into something a bit more professional. This was more difficult that it sounded, as each new clarification left him with the uncomfortable feeling that he was lying to himself.

Virgil didn’t stop screaming into a towel until it was almost the end of his shift anyway, and by that point everyone agreed it would be better if he just went home. He was scaring the customers. He barely remembered his walk back to the apartment building, what with his entire brain being taken up by “holy shit I have Logan Roberts’s number” and “oh my god I looked like such a weird rude idiot in front of Logan Roberts, I can never try to talk to him again ever.” All he knew was that he was at the coffeeshop, and then eventually, he was opening the front door.

“Patton,” he called out, knowing his roommate would be able to hear him from wherever he was. “Please don’t ask me to explain but we have to fucking move.”

#sanders sides fan fiction #sleepxiety #analogical #romantic analogical #flirting with danger #dani writes #nick's stuff

[likeshipsonthesea]

though you're many years away by eyres, we carry our lives around in our memories by biblionerd07, young hearts, out our minds by junko, Geriatric Road Trip, 2015 by what_alchemy, Nightcall by thegrimshapeofyoursmile, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten by cosmicocean, Ghost Stories by hitlikehammers, And Shadows Will Fall Behind by leveragehunters, Lovecraft in Brooklyn by littleblackfox, where the dread fern grows by silentwalrus -all stucky and over on ao3. I hope you like them!

As previously explained, I’m responding to all fic-rec asks in my inbox for cleaning purposes, and woo boy this is a doozy. Thank you so much for the effort and the amount of recs here!!

though you’re many years away by eyres

When Bucky wakes up 68 years after crashing a plane into the Atlantic, his first question is about Steve Rogers.

He finds him in a nursing home outside New York City. But the story doesn’t end there.

In which, Erskine never made it out of Europe, Steve never got the serum, and Bucky is the one who wakes up in the future.

this looks very interesting! not typically the kind of fic i read, but i can’t wait to check it out regardless :)

we carry our lives around in our memories by biblionerd07

James doesn’t remember why he has a metal arm. The doctors say he had an accident and has brain damage. Sometimes he wishes he could remember. But every morning he gets to eat breakfast with his friend Steve, so it’s not so bad. James thinks he and Steve might be dating, kind of. It’s alright if he doesn’t remember everything. Steve doesn’t mind.

this fic seems similar to one i read like a year ago, and I remember that fic being really good, so i think this one will be too!

young hearts, out our minds by junko

Bucky posts a selfie of the two of them in bed to his instagram.

He hashtags it #goodmorningamerica. Sam Wilson and Pepper Potts retweet it to their twitter accounts.

i’m pretty sure i read this fic like right after i got into the mcu… like even before i got into the mcu, when all i knew was that the pretty blond boy someone kept reblogging to my dash looked sad and i had to know why.. anywho, this fic is lovely and fun and uplifting and thank you for reminding me of it!

Geriatric Road Trip, 2015 by what_alchemy

Bucky was the eldest of four.

this looks so wonderful i can’t wait to read it!! like with only the title and summary and very few tags i already know i’m going to enjoy it :))

Nightcall by thegrimshapeofyoursmile

“This is good,” James says a little surprised and his fingertips rest on a white space of paper while he looks at the black lines that form his face, half-hidden by his shoulder-long hair. It looks dangerous. It looks lonely. It looks-

“I mean I can give it to you and you–wait, what?” Little guy says in confusion, then knits his eyebrows together before it eases into something quite pleased. “Thank you. It’s just a quick sketch, but–I hope you don’t mind me saying that, but this metal prosthesis of yours is quite remarkable.”

“You have a strange taste in men,” James replies without thinking and when he realizes what he is doing he hands over the sketch pad as quickly as possible. He does not flirt with people nor does he try to find out more about their tastes that easily. Not anymore.

Little guy just smiles, looks at him with blue, blue eyes and says, “Well, what are your tastes, then?”

///////

A.k.a The Winter Soldier goes out and finds himself his very own willowy boyfriend.

who doesn’t love a shrinkyclinks fics??? i can’t wait to check this one out!!

family means no one gets left behind or forgotten by cosmicocean

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

okay was someone going to tell me there was a fic where steve rogers adopts some gay kids or was i just supposed to read about it in a fic recs by myself?!?!?!? okay that doesn’t really work bc you legit just told me about it BUT OMG I WANT TO READ THIS SO BADLY WHAT THE HECK.. thank you. so much.

Ghost Stories by hitlikehammers

Steve doesn’t like bullies, on principle. It’s less about justice, or decency, or righteous indignation; more about the look in the eyes of the people getting stepped on, the people getting trampled, the people getting lost.

So it cuts all the deeper, when Steve recognizes strength, precision, endurance, capacity: sees the pieces of himself not born but made, reflected in this body, this person, this weapon: the Winter Soldier.

It slices through Steve’s soul when he returns the Soldier’s gaze, and reads the only thing that lives in the deadness that pervades behind those irises in the night.

It’s not You can’t beat me.

It’s more You can’t stop them.

For the prompt: The AU where Steve Rogers sees the best in everyone, and it is that quality that brings him back the person he loves most in the world; where Steve reaches out to help the Winter Soldier on principle, but when the muzzle-mask comes off, he finds Bucky Barnes.

this whole concept??? beautiful. i cannot wait to read this

And Shadows Will Fall Behind by leveragehunters

The world was full of things no one could have expected.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes never expected to fall from a train into decades of torture and killing.

HYDRA never expected their perfect Winter Soldier’s programming to shatter.

And Bucky, who’d once been the Winter Soldier, who was now an auxiliary to the Avengers, never expected to look down from a rooftop in New York City, where he was keeping watch over the world’s most ineffectual aspirant supervillains, and see a tiny ball of angry sunshine. Fierce and fearless, he loosed feelings in Bucky that he’d thought were gone forever.

Bucky was determined to see him again. The better thing would have been to introduce himself. Not to stealthily follow him as he leapt across the rooftops, strong and agile, feet touching down like he was doing gravity a favour.

The world may have been full of things no one could have expected, but Bucky probably shouldn’t have been surprised when his tiny ball of fierce, angry sunshine dumped him on his ass.

listen this is a shrinkyclinks loving household and i am so excited for the tol-smol dynamic about to play out in this fic.. thank you

Lovecraft in Brooklyn by littleblackfox

Bucky shrugs. “My brothers wish me dead. But I have claimed this world as mine, and should any dare approach I will slaughter them, and their progeny.”“Oh,” Steve says weakly. “Well, it’s tough coming from a large family.”

umm okay, I , like steve, am mildly confused, but i will check it out bc why the heck not my dude

where the dread fern grows by silentwalrus

Sam’s gotta buy a wedding present, and nothing but elf booze will do.

i love magical realism and who doesn’t want bucky as a witch??? a must-read for sure.

AND WITH THAT we come to the end of this beautiful fic rec, thank you so much for all the recommendations, I can’t wait to check them out and I hope y’all (as in my followers, my dudes) get a chance to read them too!

(seriously this whole thing is beautiful, tysm *cries in gay* happy pride y’all)

#EB's fic recs #long post #i would put i a cut in #but idk #i forgot and now i'm too lazy #oops #i have SO MUCH to read y'all #at least now i can see my prompt asks i have to fulfill #i promise they'll be fulfilled soon!! #i started them i promise!!

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 2: Smultronställe

Word Count: 2523

Read on AO3

Don’t be late. Don’t be late. Don’t be late.

TJ hurried towards the swings, nearly tripping over his untied shoes (which Amber reminded him of earlier). He checked his phone again, and 12:01 shone back at him. Crap.

“Cyrus!” he called, seeing a figure in the distance, his swing moving ever so slightly. As he got closer, he could see that Cyrus looked, dare he say it, forlorn? He slowed his pace, trying to regain oxygen in his lungs so he wasn’t panting.

Cyrus didn’t respond; his gaze was laser focused on the ground, at a small patch of wild strawberries growing near the swings. He didn’t really notice when TJ had sat down by him, other than noting that the swing was moving.

“I brought your journal,” TJ said after a pause, handing it to Cyrus, who took it without looking up at him. He nodded in gratitude, placing the small book beside him. And then it was silent again. TJ tried to let it go on as much as he possibly could, counting the blades of glass that poked out from underneath the wood chips.

“Thanks,” Cyrus finally spoke, his voice sounding strangely small, “for the journal, I mean,”

TJ nodded, waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. Motivated by what one could only call absurd bravery, he extended his hand out for Cyrus, if he so desired. After feeling like it was a mistake and ready to take it back, the other boy reached his hand out and linked his pinky with TJ’s, and both boys audibly sighed.

“Smultronställe,” Cyrus mumbled, his and TJ’s hands swinging lightly between them, “it’s Swedish,” he added, noting TJ’s expression, “it means, like, well it literally translates to ‘a place of wild strawberries’, but it’s, like, a place you return to for relaxation and solace,”

“Swings,” TJ replied, after he’d processed that Cyrus was one mystery after another, “they’re peaceful,”

“. . .Yeah,” Cyrus hesitated, chewing on his lower lip, “a smultronställe is supposed to be a stress free place. . .”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” TJ filled in the space, gently giving the other boy’s pinky a squeeze.

Cyrus sighed, taking both of his hands and using them to prop up his head with his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Do you ever feel weird?”

TJ blinked, rubbing his hands against his knees. “Weird? Like, in what sense?”

Cyrus sighed, gripping the swings and throwing his head back. “Like, I don’t know,” he groaned, failing to find the right words, “like, it’s like, I’m on the outside. Like I’m watching myself live a life that I’m being. . .not forced, per se,” he muttered, sitting upright, “but like. . .pushed? Maybe? I don’t know,”

TJ nodded, kicking his feet a little to start swaying. “I get that,” he agreed, “it’s like. . .you recognize that you’re living a life where some things that you thought you could or should control, you can’t,”

“Exactly, and like,” Cyrus huffed, “I should be able to have control over these things in my life. Control over who knows, and when, and how they find out,” he rambled, clenching his hands into fists, which did not go unnoticed by TJ.

“Hey,” TJ whispered, straddling the swing, “whatever it is you need to get off your chest,” he gestured to himself, “I’m here for you,”

Cyrus let out a shaky sigh, his eyes glossy with a layer of tears forming, threatening to fall with a single blink. “I. . .sorry, this is just hard to say and I’m worried, even though I really shouldn’t be because I know you’re a great person and,” he took a deep breath, trying to continue. He shut his eyes tightly, a few loose tears trickling down his face.

TJ instinctively reached out and swiped them away, putting his hands on Cyrus’ shoulders. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” TJ reminded him, feeling Cyrus relax under his touch. Cyrus’ heart was probably racing, but TJ’s felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.

“You’re gonna hate me,” he whispered, the very idea making a sob escape from his lips, “you’re never going to want to be around me again.”

TJ felt tears budding at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t let them escape, for Cyrus’ sake. “I could never hate you, Underdog,” he promised, wanting nothing more than to just press a kiss to the other boy’s temple and make him feel better, “there’s nothing you can say to make me stop being around you. I mean, unless you murdered someone,”

Cyrus snorted, a tiny smile ghosting his lips. “I haven’t murdered anyone,” he replied softly, inhaling sharply, “but, TJ. . .I’m gay,”

And there it was. He finally mustered up the courage to push those two terrifying words out, and now they hung in the open. Cyrus couldn’t even look at TJ’s face, not willing himself to meet his gaze of what he was sure would be utmost disgust and disappointment.

“So?”

Cyrus’ head snapped up, his watery gaze meeting TJ’s nonchalant one. “What do you mean ‘so’”?

TJ shrugged, putting his hand on the other boy’s knee. “I mean that I’m glad you told me, but that it doesn’t change how I think of you. You’re still you, Cyrus. I’d accept you no matter what,” he promised, opening out his arms.

Cyrus straddled the swing as well, and leaned forward, burying his head in his TJ’s chest, and letting the tears flow openly. And even though the chains of the swings were digging into him (and probably TJ too, as a result), he felt so much better. It was, as cliche as it sounded, like a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He finally felt like he didn’t have to walk on eggshells around one person.

TJ, however, felt almost the opposite. Of course he would accept Cyrus, that wasn’t even a question; it would be hypocritical if he didn’t, afterall. He wanted so badly to tack on ‘I’m gay too’ to his little acceptance speech, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to take this important moment away from Cyrus. So, he simply cut that part out. But every second that passed, he started to regret that decision. Coincidentally so, every second that passed, he thought would be a worse and worse time to come out.

Cyrus picked his head up from TJ shirt, fanning his eyes quickly. “Sorry,” he mustered, choking out a laugh, “I didn’t think I’d be crying, at least this hard,”

“Don’t apologize, Cy. It can be terrifying to put yourself out there,” TJ reminded him.

Cyrus scoffed, swiping at his loose tears. “You mean like when a certain basketball player asks girls to dances but they never say no?”

TJ laughed nervously, averting his attention from the other boy. “Something like that,” he mumbled, just quiet enough so Cyrus didn’t hear.

“Now that I feel emotionally drained,” Cyrus chuckled softly, “we should do something, like actually fun. There’s a laser tag place pretty close by. . .what do you say?”

TJ smirked, cracking his knuckles. “Hate to break it to you, Underdog, but I am a master at laser tag,”

“Is that a challenge?” Cyrus raised his brows, “You absolute overconfident buffoon, laser tag is a game of skill, not athleticism,”

“We’ll see about that,”

About an hour later, they found themselves at the laser tag arena, with Amber, Andi, Marty, and Buffy. They texted them as soon as they left the swings, and agreed to meet up and play a round or two. And TJ may or may not have slipped the employee at the table a few dollars to convince him to be on Cyrus’ team. Amber and Andi were on opposing teams, but they swore they wouldn’t go for each other. Buffy and Marty begged to be on opposing teams, but the man was either too tired or didn’t care enough to do anything.

“Let me help you with that,” TJ offered, helping Cyrus slip the jacket over his head, “wouldn’t wanna lose because of faulty use,”

“Okay, so,” the employee, a man who looked no older than 20 sighed, “two teams. No running, no profanity, and please when I say the game is over, exit through the door. It’ll be lit by the orange arrows. Have fun,”

He opened the doors, and immediately, all the kids, including ones that they had never seen before, were scampering around the arena, filling the room with squeals and the sound of feet pounding the carpet.

Cyrus did what he did best; find a small corner, crouch, and try and stay hidden. A few little kids spooked him and shot at him, effectively lowering his score. Groaning, he put his head in his hands.

“Boo,” a familiar voice interrupted.

Cyrus scrambled to grab his laser gun, shooting blindly and hoping he was hitting something.

“We’re on the same team, dumbass,” TJ snarked kneeling down beside him, “I’m here to help you,” he added, sitting down and leaning against the wall.

“Thanks,” Cyrus mumbled, pulling his knees into his chest, “I’m not really good at this. I may or may not have lied,”

TJ breathed out a laugh, opening his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a barrage of kids screaming and coming their way. After a split second, TJ jumped behind Cyrus.

“What are you doing?” Cyrus hissed, before feeling a pair of arms wrap loosely around him ad grab his laser gun.

“Helping you win, duh,” he muttered, taking Cyrus’ hands and putting them on his laser gun. He let his hand rest gently on top, and he couldn’t help but try and bite back a smile. Bringing their hands up, he helped Cyrus aim and shoot at the other team, the lights on their vest going out. Just then, a voice over the announcer said that the game was over, and to please follow the orange arrows to the exit.

Marty and Buffy were the first ones out the door, with Buffy pumping her fist, as she’d beat Marty. Amber and Andi walked out hand in hand, which honestly, did not surprise TJ, or Cyrus for that matter, in the slightest.

“Hey look! You did it!” TJ pointed at the screen, where the number one spot was occupied by the screen name of RAINBOW. It matched the name that Cyrus had on his vest.

“We did it. I wouldn’t have gotten close without your help, you know,” he insisted, taking his vest off and hanging it on the wall, TJ doing the same.

“I’m so proud of you, I could just hug you right now,” TJ exclaimed, clasping his hand over his mouth immediately after. Did he really just say that out loud?

Cyrus chuckled, shrugging. “What’s stopping you?”

TJ opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. To hell with it, he thought, reaching forward and wrapping Cyrus in a hug. Truly, he could stay like this forever, his life encapsulated in this one moment.

“You’re a pretty good hugger,” Cyrus commented, still not detaching from the other boy, “and that’s coming from someone who really enjoys hugs,”

TJ pulled his torso back, his arms still wrapped around Cyrus’ waist. “What makes you think I don’t really enjoy hugs? I love hugs,”

Cyrus rolled his eyes playfully, a smile dancing on his lips. “Surprise after surprise, Teej,”

“Alright break it up, lovebirds,” Buffy intruded, startling both boys out of their moment, “Marty and I are going for milkshakes. And,” she added, glancing at him, “he’s paying because I won laser tag,”

Marty pretended to bow down to her, raising and lowering his arms. “As you with, my queen,”

“You guys wanna come?”

Cyrus and TJ exchanged glances, shaking their heads in unison. “We’re good thanks,” Cyrus replied, to which Buffy gave him a knowing look, before turning and leaving with Marty, hand in hand.

Amber and Andi were over by the air hockey table, playing each other and laughing to hard that TJ thought one of them might pass out at some point. Amber looked up for a moment, meeting her brother’s eyes. He raised his brows, while Amber glanced at Cyrus over and over, as if trying to push TJ to talking to him.

“So,” he started, kicking at the carpet, “what should we do for the next activity? Anything you want,”

At that, Cyrus beamed, his eyes lighting up. “There’s a Christmas in July festival close by! And I know that it’s kind of far away but, like, tickets are on sale,” he suggested.

“That sounds awesome,” he smiled, before he faltered, “I think I’m going on vacation for part of July though. When is it?”

“Um,” he hummed, pulling out his phone and searching, “. . . it’s the 13th and 14th of July,”

TJ fist pumped the air, smiling. “I’ll be there,”

“Great,” he replied, followed by a beat of silence, “I’m gonna get going home but. . .today was so fun. Thanks for winning for me,”

“Hey,” TJ gently punched his shoulder, “you could’ve done it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Cyrus nodded, pivoting on his heel and walking out the door.

TJ smiled to himself. It’d been a pretty good day.

When he got home, Cyrus flopped down on his bed, pulling his journal out from under his bed and flipping to the back. He thought back to the events of the day, before picking a word.

cingulomania: the desire to hold someone in your arms

He lingered a moment longer, remembering him and TJ, together in the little arcade. TJ really did give the best hugs. Maybe-

“Nope,” Cyrus mumbled, flipping back to the front and pushing his emotions aside, “just gonna write down what happened. Journalism. No feelings. Just facts.”

6/4

Today me and Cyrus went to the swings and he came out to me we talked. Nothing in particular just about us. Then we went to the laser arcade with Marty, Buffy, Andi, and Amber. Cyrus and I stuck together and he ended up coming on top! I was really proud of him. Then we hugged in celebration and he told me that I gave the best hugs. We made plans to go to the Christmas in July festival, and it’s going to be so fun. I don’t know what we’re going to be doing tomorrow but I know it will be fun because it’s gonna be with him.

TJ sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He was probably going to have to rewrite this one, since there were so many things he needed to cross out. It didn’t help that all he could think about was Cyrus this and Cyrus that. Journalism was not going to be his forte if he couldn’t include emotions. Bummer.

[andi’s girlfriend: TJ]

[andi’s girlfriend: TJ]

[andi’s girlfriend: SHE ASKED ME ON A DATE]

[andi’s girlfriend: SFKSFSFSK I CANT EVEN]

[andi’s girlfriend: i’m going to her house ill be back later]

TJ smiled at his messages. Called it,  he thought to himself.

[Me: i’m gonna call her your girlfriend now and forever]

@shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ginnychrises|| @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian || @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz || @quietmarvel || @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia || @broadwayitbitch || @tjsmuffin || @tjthekippen || @idpleasesir || @hi-hello-hey-there || @caprisunandcookiedough || @booklove-2 || @illbeyourreasonwhy || @birdiesandflowers || @whistlepunk || @phinallyjackie || @thedampjofangirl || @tyrus4eva || @tj-is-a-lemony-boy || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @dis-app-oin-tme-nt || @nessarinthegay || @breadisticks || @typewriter-riz || @gobletofash || @bluemuffinboy || @sofuuh || @cheesystars || @tjmuffin || @multifandom-bxitch

#andi mack #tyrus #tyrus fic #my fics #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #cyrus' dictionary #muffy #ambi #amber kippen #marty from the party #buffy driscoll

[mischevious-pixie]

1:27 a.m.

Mark’s eyes sting as he rubs them for the ninth time in the last ten minutes, half-heartedly trying to make sense of the messy bits of Hangul and English scrawled across the stained pages of his notebook. Despite the exhausted slope of his broad shoulders and the light quivering of his thin, ink-marked fingers, he breathes evenly, a determined furrow in his brow as he concentrates. Through the irritating haze clouding his mind, he’s distinctly aware of the pleasant gurgle and drip drip drip of his salvation.

If someone asked him to spell the name of Jesus Christ right now, he would respond “C-o-f-f-e-e,” without hesitation.

Absentmindedly, he taps his foot against the front of the stove, adjusts his glasses further up his nose, and takes up his pen to tuck even messier notes into the margins of the paper. He tries not to question if he’ll be able to read this in the morning; that’s a problem for Future Mark.

The seconds tick past -which is mildly unsettling because there’s only a digital clock nearby, but he decides not to dwell on that either-, and not a moment too soon he hears the merciful chime of the coffee maker. Relief swells up in him.

His chair clangs against the stove in his haste to retrieve a mug from the cupboard. He cringes at the ruckus, but doesn’t bother checking the stainless steel appliance for a dent.  In a dorm with seven boys under the age of twenty, everything in this house is doomed (including Mark).

An attempt to pour coffee when he can barely feel his hands is bound to be messy, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when the liquid, brewed dark and bitter enough to kick his ass in gear before reality can flat out kick his ass, sloshes over the side of his mug.

Except, it is.

At first he doesn’t register bright red blooming across his still-shaky hand, or the oh, shit, hey, that hurts, until…

“Oh, shit! Hey- gah, ouch!” His hand whips back so hard that more coffee spills, and his fist crashes into the steel of the fridge, which is far too cold and hard for the delicate skin of his knuckles. Heat carves into his nerves, cleaves through each to set them alight with white-hot pain, effectively banishing his fatigue. Muddy tones discolor his arm in streaks, a simmering warmth much more bearable than that which scalded him, yet still unpleasant. “Fuck!” He whisper-yells, understanding that it’s 1:27 in the damn morning and his friends are going to kill him if they find him awake.

He pads quickly over to the sink, sock-clad feet a garish orange against the soothing pale tile, his heart pounding in his chest to the rhythm of his throbbing hand. He doesn’t wiggle around when the icy water douses his hand, and he most certainly doesn’t whimper at the uncomfortable frigidity of it.

Definitely not.

What is he even supposed to do for a burn? Bandaids? Ointment? He doubts the ‘kiss it better’ approach would work here.

“Why are you still up?”

Mark stills; his heart drops to his stomach as the undercurrent of sleepiness slurs Haechan’s already lisped words, his dulcet tone causing a tightness in Mark’s chest; he can’t tell if it’s fondness or stress. He turns, and his heart bungees right back up into his throat.

The light in the hallway flicks on, silhouettes Haechan and highlights his tanned skin. Even in the dimness, Mark can still make out his features. The slight boy’s eyes are still puffy with sleep, there’s some drool crusted on the corner of his pout, and half of his inky hair falls fairly across his stupidly pretty cheekbones, while the rest sticks out at odd angles. Combined with the sweet concern lacing his voice, it all makes him far, far cuter than he has any right to be.

Suddenly, the kiss-it-better approach doesn’t sound so bad, after all.

“...Mark?” The smaller boy repeats quietly.

“Huh? … Oh, oh yeah, uhm- I was just working on a, uh, thing,” is what he ends up responding, but only after he clamps down around the, “You’re really cute and I wanted to write about how much I love you because I literally cannot even with how cute you are, who gave you the right?” He knew exactly where that conversation would go- where it always does. As much as he can’t handle Haechan wearing only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sleepy and sweet due to the early hour and his doting nature, he absolutely cannot deal with him when he’s filled with confidence. That pretty pout turned into a sly, knowing smile, those soft thighs pressed against him, the innocent facade in his doe eyes as his hands trace feather-light touches up and down Mark’s sides, completely aware of what he’s doing but still having the audacity to ask Mark why he’s breathing funny- God help him, Mark would burn alive if that Haechan made an appearance tonight.

This Haechan is almost as troublesome, though; especially when he’s dressed in Mark’s clothes.  

Wait, he’s what?

“Is that my shirt?” His voice is not as shaky as he expected, and he mentally pats himself on the back for it. Achievement unlocked: ‘Try Not To Seem Like a Panicked Gay’. Skill: ‘Don’t Cry Over Pretty Boys,’ partially mastered.

“Not anymore,” Haechan sniffs, fiddling with the bottom hem, before he gestures to Mark. “You hurt yourself…”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing.” The taller boy curls into himself slightly, belying his words with a muffled wince as he hides his hand behind a dish towel.

Haechan snorts, rolling his eyes. “It’s the same shade your face turned when you first saw me naked,” he snarks. Mark splutters, choking on his own saliva and biting his tongue. The shorter boy slips closer, “Shh, you’re going to wake up the whole house at this rate. My God, Mark, you’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” He murmurs without thinking.

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey!”

Haechan just hums, whirling swiftly through the kitchen to prepare an ice pack for him- only because Mark’s hurt, not because he’s trying to hide a sickeningly fond smile-, also grabbing some aloe gel. “Sit,” he commands, patting the stool. Mark complies without hesitation, plunks down, and inhales a stuttered breath.

The cool aloe mixed with the heat of Haechan’s hands is an interesting sensation to say the least, but the love of his life is kneading his hand in smoothe, calculated strokes, so he’s not about to complain.

His boyfriend is so beautiful it’s not fair. At this angle, he can count every tiny freckle dusted across his petite nose, sloped gently with the cutest button tip that Mark boops 24/7, and his eyes- God, Mark wants to curl up and die in their warmth. Haechan has schooled his expression to stay blank, unaffected, as he tends to Mark’s hand, but the latter can see it.

The tenderness in Haechan’s gaze as he gingerly massages the aloe into his lover’s pale skin has Mark’s heart so full in his chest that it hurts. Mark forgets himself, staring openly at the slight furrow in his angel’s brow, and he just wants to reach up and smoothe his finger over the little wrinkles. He wants to sweep back the silken black strands curling loosely over his forehead, maybe kiss it after. He wants to trace over the constellations on his skin, to press delicately against his squishy cheeks, and watch that button nose he adores so much scrunch at the sappiness of the motion.

So, he does, because he feels brave and stupid and very, very in love.

Haechan is so focused on his task, on making sure he doesn’t hurt Mark more, that he doesn’t see him move, doesn’t expect to be caressed so carefully- like he’d break if there was too much pressure. There’s a long, silent moment where neither of them move, Mark’s hand cradling the side of his face. Instead of shifting away like Mark expects him to, he leans further into the embrace.

To the surprise of them both, Mark doesn’t recoil, or choke, or spontaneously combust. Instead, his thumb maps over the rises and valleys, merrily dotes on the perfect imperfections that he knows by heart. Warmth and affection unfurl in the limited space between them, lazily filling the air with palpable emotion.

It’s Haechan who breaks away first, unable to withstand Mark looking at him like that- fuzzy and sleepy and like he knows Haechan would never hurt him.

“Do you know you look like a lovesick puppy right now?” he mumbles, unable to summon any of the intended bite to his words.

Mark blinks slowly. “Yeah.”

Luckily, in the morning Mark won’t remember Haechan staring dumbly at him, his mouth open in a silent squeal. Apparently, the latter’s cheekiness prefers to sleep at ass-o-clock in the morning, abandoning him to Mark’s cuteness. The injured boy yawns like a baby lion, his tongue curling out nose scrunching, ending the moment. Suddenly, he’s all bleary eyes and lolling head. The raven-haired boy coos, and he presses a mushy kiss to his wrist, complete with a sloppy “Mwah!”

A cheery grin dimples his cheeks, as bright as a sunrise in the dusky room. He pats the icepack on Mark’s hand, directs the man’s opposite to clutch it tightly, and pulls him up, his hands anchored underneath the lanky boy’s shoulders. With some effort, and a face red from exertion, they are both standing- rather, one standing and one wobbling precariously. He sidles up under Mark’s arm, steadying him.

He’s not at all distracted by the lean muscle he can feel shifting with every step, or the defined bicep literally right next to his head, hot damn, okay he really needs to breathe. Dying tonight is not the plan. But, then again, neither was waking up in the middle of the night to the pained screech of a sleep-drunk imbecile, i.e. his boyfriend.

And yet, he finds himself under a wet blanket of a man, half-guiding, half-dragging his sleep-deprived, yet nicely toned, ass to bed. If he hits a few doorways and countertops on the way, no one has to know. (Spoiler alert: he doesn’t knock Mark into any hard surfaces, because he could never harm the fluff ball, as much as he threatens to some days.)

It’s not easy, and it takes them minutes instead of seconds to amble through the halls and into Mark’s room. The oaf belly flops unceremoniously onto his bed.

Haechan deems it a six out of ten, since his leg swung a bit wide while still airborne.

The wet noodle wriggles across the shark patterned comforter (they’re adults, they swear- well, for the most part, anyways), and the younger wants nothing more than to plop down right next to him. But, there’s that stupid nagging voice in the back of his head.

The coffee has to be cleaned, or it will stain and Taeyong will see it. He shudders at the thought, remembering the time he got ketchup and glitter stuck in the carpet.

“Where are you going?” Mark slurs, and the underlying whine in his tone tugs at his heart strings; it’s almost enough to keep him there, Taeyong be damned. He pauses at the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

Once he reaches the kitchen, the bed seems even more tempting. This place is a wreck.

After being ignored for so long, the dark liquid has pooled around a familiar red booklet, and trickled down the white cabinets.

The slight human rushes for any towel he can reach; the paper variety ends up strewn haphazardly about his feet to sop up the mess, while he desperately wipes away the muddy hue from the pages. A chorus of “No, no, no, no, no’s” fill the empty room. The paper eventually lightens after an onslaught of furious wipes and cautious dabs, but the scribbles are still barely legible.

Leaning closer, he squints, wondering if it’s just Mark’s crappy handwriting, or the effects of the coffee. Taken aback, he chokes on air once he’s able to discern the squiggles. His eyebrows disappear into his hairline, and a llama is murdered somewhere in the room. Oh, wait, no- that’s just him dying.

Painfully.

Haechan clutches his chest, taking deep breaths because his heart is palpitating frantically and he’s pretty sure there’s not supposed to be a stabbing sensation in his ribs.

Is this what a heart attack feels like? No, he won’t go out like this, he outright refuses. This will not be how the great Haechan Lee bites it.

“Mark you disgusting, sappy, vomit-inducing piece of shit,” he sobs quietly, reading the lyrics again to make sure he’s not imagining things.

“‘I saw an angel when I first saw you, you shone like an angel from heaven, I got curious. Who do you resemble to be that beautiful? I’ll be your morning star, and you are my angel’- bitch, who in the fuck!” he weeps, rereading the lines as his vision blurs.The butterflies in his stomach are stomped to shreds by the angry kangaroos now inhabiting his gut. Mark’s out to kill him, he’s sure of it. Love is a conspiracy and Mark is an assassin plotting to rip out his damn heart.

“Mission accomplished, you rat bastard,” he spits venomously, wiping a fake tear. Yeah, it’s totally fake. Mhm.

He stares at the pages a little longer, the towels beneath his feet completely soaked, and the mess mostly clean. Shaking his head to rid himself of the daze, and any stray tears collected on his lashes, he tidies up the sloppy area, tired and sappy and really wanting to hug his boyfriend. Once everything is taken care of, he carefully grips the book, and checks the time.

If he didn’t cry before (he did), he’s about to. If he didn’t curse his boyfriend’s name before (he did), he is seriously considering it. He huffs on his way back to his boyfriend, “That asshole workaholic, how dare he make cutesy shit at two in the morning!”

As he places the damp journal on his nightstand, he notices the ice-pack laying on the carpet. He kicks it under Mark’s bed. Warily, he regards the lump snoring softly on the bed: his mouth is ajar, and drool collects on his grey pillow while he hugs the sheets to his chest.

Gross.

Despite himself, fondness flourishes in his chest. Mark has been neglecting himself in order to work for as long as Haechan can remember. The cinnamon-haired dork needs this, deserves this.

The oceanic comforter- which he’s pretty sure Mark bought from the kid’s section- is soft under his knees, the fabric wrapping him up in a little hug, and he sighs. He loves Mark’s bed almost more than he loves Mark.

The latter is knocked out, not responding at all to the foreign presence in his bed as Haechan lifts his arm and snuggles up to his side, wriggling until Mark’s leg is tangled between his- holy shit he’s got great calves too, when did this happen?- and his arm is tossed over the smaller’s chest.

“Love you,” he murmurs into the sleeping boy’s shoulder, placing a light peck there.

To his surprise, Mark rolls over, collapses on his chest and slides his hands under Haechan’s back to hug his waist. His lean weight presses against the younger’s tummy and his head rests directly over his unsteadily thumping heart.

Then, Mark smiles. It’s sleepy and soft and sweet, and Haechan can’t bring himself to push him off, despite not being able to breathe. “Love you, too, Angel,” Mark murmurs, and places an affectionate kiss on his chest, the warmth of his breath piercing Haechan’s skin to spread through his body, cozy heat thrumming all the way down to his toes. Those soft-spoken words seep from the air straight into his chest, curling protectively around the beating organ.

Is it beating? Haechan doesn’t think so.

He can’t breathe, but it’s in the best way possible. This shouldn’t be comfortable, and honestly it really isn’t, but he wouldn’t move for the world because Mark’s snoring again, just as quietly as before, his breath even and a peaceful look on his face.

Haechan winds his own arms around his boyfriend, contentedness in his heart and exhaustion in his bones, and tells the part of his brain saying he’s uncomfortable to shut the fuck up because dammit he’s going to sleep like this if it kills him. (Spoiler alert: he lives, but there’s an ache in his spine uncomfortable enough that Mark makes chocolate chip pancakes out of guilt. All in all, Haechan considers it a win.)

#2.8k of fluff #lee donghyuck #haechan #lee haechan #mark lee #lee minhyung #domestic #domestic fluff #soft boys #savage haechan #nct 127 #nct dream #we don't sexualize the dreamies in this house #don't worry it's 0.2 seconds of ALLUDED smut #soft hours only #early morning #late night #hurt comfort #mild hurt comfort #tbh they just love each other so much #but they are awkward teenagers #support my sons pls #lee taeyong #mentioned lee taeyong #also posted on ao3 don't worry I am also thebestthingsincefriedchicken it's okay