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joontier · 4 years

Text

“V” | part one

synopsis: You zinged. With the captain. Who was human.

pairings: kim taehyung x female reader

rating: R (18+) | genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, minor angst (as of now) ,fantasy, (unknowing) enemies to lovers trope; captain! taehyung x vampire! reader, based off Hotel Transylvania and Girl’s Trip! | warnings: plenty of sexual innuendos, explicit sex) (groping, fingering, exhibitionism,

word count: 13.1k

g/n: im splitting this into a two/three shot because i really wanted to post this bc the coward in me is afraid that if i finish and post the whole thing this app might crash on me ajfoiawjefiajwfa n e ways, enjoy this first part and please let me know what you think!

one. | two. | three.?

navi | m.list

Albeit recorded as one of the smallest countries in terms of area and population, the country of Tersnoa proudly boasts its multiple attractions and rich culture. As the nation’s economy depends heavily on tourism, Tersnoa is considered a hidden treasure amongst the genuine travelers - human and monsters alike.

Santa Shelea - the monster capital of Tersnoa, is located beneath the lush woods of the small country, hidden to the human eye. Entrance to the city you grew up in is a privilege given only to monsters, though it wasn’t always like that.

The city used to nurture human and monster liaisons, with relations surpassing mere diplomacy. Humans and monsters shared friendships that run deeper than their contrasts in physical attributes and their innate characteristics. It was a time when both parties realized they were so much alike in plenty of ways and respect was observed by all despite the differences in appearances and culture. Admittedly, monsters had more to sacrifice with these accords due to your more primal urges, but your kind made it work, for the sake of peaceful coexistence.

The other party, however, did not seem to share the same sentiments for long.

Santa Shelea was one of the few places left on Earth where monsters sought refuge as your kind of people were constantly drawn out of the places they used to peacefully live at by the humans themselves. You thought Santa Shelea was different - that these people you once even considered family wouldn’t push you away just like what the others did, but it wasn’t before long that the human citizens of the once-glorious city were going to change their minds.

These selfish, pompous humans conducted an uprising to protest against the presence of monsters in ‘their’ land. It was an awful time to have grown up in, being called a ‘monster’ in all senses of the word, especially from those people you have even considered friends. The human citizens conducted an uprising in Santa Shelea, protesting the presence of monsters in ‘their’ land, ultimately disturbing the peace of the city.

Humans burned your houses down to the ground, including your helpless mother in their supposed quest for peace. After having kept the harmonious liaisons for quite some time, your kind had gone back to your primitive instincts, fighting for your rights along with an army of beasts, hybrids, witches, and members of the undead. It was catastrophe epitomized, a day that no one wishes to relive.

It isn't fair to say that the monsters emerged victorious when so many had perished, your mother included. Eventually, these mortal beings realized there were no match for formidable creatures and soon took their leave of the once prosperous city. Soon enough, humans became history to monsters and vice versa.

Rebuilding your beloved city from scratch was no easy task, proving to be even more difficult with the agony that came with burying the past. To prevent any more man-made disasters in the future, the witches had agreed to cast a spell over Santa Shelea: that your city will forever remain invisible to the human eye.

And it has remained such until the present, appearing as part of the picturesque mountain ranges Tersnoa has to offer. Far from the city and beneath the mountains of lush forestry, Hotel Tersnoa stands tall in the middle of Santa Shelea - the city where monsters thrive. If you could only speak for yourself, the city could easily pass as the eighth wonder of the world.

Hotel Tersnoa isn’t the only legacy handed down from your great-great-great-grandfather (“G4 for short”, he’d offered one day, explaining that he had to ‘blend in with the now’). During the past millennia, he had also established a conglomerate of enterprises across the world. He’s even founded BloodHub, an international focus group centered on blood diseases and blood donations but you wouldn’t want to delve on the beginning and end of that.

The responsibility of taking over the hotel had been passed on to your father since then and his ardency for the hotel was unparalleled, the bequest of the hotel has surpassed the original Hotel Tersnoa of which your grandfathers had initially envisioned it to be. Your father would spend hours on end surveying every detail, nook, and cranny of the beloved establishment, barking orders left and right.

On top of being a father, he had busied himself with the responsibilities of a hotelier. Yet you knew deep down it was all but a façade to mask the void that your mother left in his heart. There were many nights you’d caught him staring into the distance in a secluded place, away from the hustle and bustle at the hotel. You loved your father dearly, wanting nothing else for him but the happiness he truly deserves.

When you had turned of age, you insisted on taking over the hotel in your father’s stead. You knew that your mother’s passing had been a toll too great to bear for your father, especially in a place where he is constantly reminded of her. You wanted him to enjoy his life, to bring back the life in his eyes, however ironic it may sound as part of the undead.

Your father had disapproved of the idea at first, reasoning out that it was too big of a responsibility to hand over. He’d told you that you were still young and he wanted you to enjoy your life while you still could. With your adamancy and endless prodding, you had finally convinced him to cave in. Besides, you’re pretty sure you’ll stay young for a long time.

As you have taken on the commitment of being the lady of the house, or hotel rather, your father spent his time moving from one place to another, taking on different identities so as not to reveal his real one. When you were just starting out with your duties as the new hotelier a few years back, he couldn’t leave you behind for a day, checking up on you every two hours just in case an emergency occurs. As if something drastic could happen when more than half of your customers are already dead.

Years pass by and hourly check-ups became daily ones and then weekly afterwards, until he calls you from halfway across the world every once in a while, just to tease you if the hotel was just as great as he left it. You hadn’t actually seen him in a year, apparently ‘busy’ with his new business venture in Amsterdam.

That’s why when you pick up his scent nearby, you momentarily stop in your tracks. It isn't exactly unusual for your father to have impromptu visits, but you’ve learned that it’s highly unlikely for your father to drop by at such a time like this.

He avoids peak season at Tersnoa like the plague, let alone a Friday the 13th special like today, in addition to the most anticipated week-long celebration of the hotel’s six hundred and sixty-sixth anniversary. Your father steers clear of times like these at all costs, always making up excuses to avoid the crowd and the stress that comes with it. So much for being the past manager.

You can’t really hold it against him, as it surely has been an arduous feat having run the hotel for almost two centuries. Even though you both laugh it off whenever you tease him about it, you know deep down he genuinely enjoys attending to his customers and making sure they get the best customer service.

A scoff escapes your lips when you see the infamous Drac-cape nearing. You’re mildly tempted to ignore him altogether, not wanting to be involved with someone who wore something that has run out of style decades ago. Secondhand embarrassment is a thing, and it’s very real.

You have already lost count of the times you’ve told him to get rid of the ridiculous piece of clothing, yet he dismisses you every time, clinging onto the nostalgic feeling that comes with the cape. In consideration of your request, your father had gone so far as acquiring the services of a handful of stylists to make some alterations to the design, and you have to say you’re pretty impressed with the outcome. What else could you have said? The Drac-cape was old but gold.

You’re about to greet him when a staff approaches you, holding out a folder with papers that require your signatures. Your father stands a meter away with a proud smile, watching you with fondness in his eyes. Once you finish with the papers, he calls out, “Ah, my princess,” arms wide open to greet you with a hug. He’s the first to pull away, hands still resting on your shoulders as he takes a good look at you. “You grow up so fast!” he says jokingly with a wide smile plastered on his face as he pinches your cheeks.

There’s something off though, something suspicious behind that painstakingly dubious grin on his face. Smiling wasn’t something your father was fond of doing especially in public - too deep into portraying the character of the dark and brooding Dracula depicted in human children’s stories. Plus, your fangs sometimes get in the way, so smiling isn’t really a preferable option.

Before you get the chance to ask about his sudden visit, another staff member approaches you, another folder in hand. Your father shoos you away before you object, dragged away by your duties for the millionth time tonight.

“What is it now?” you ask the skeleton beside you, every sound of his movement resembling that of a marimba. “Your presence is being requested by Ms. Catherine at her party, Countess.”

You’d almost forgotten your cousin Catherine had rented out the hotel’s rooftop to celebrate her engagement to her long-time boyfriend Jericho. You’ve already congratulated and apologized to her plenty of times prior to this day, already knowing that you won't be able to celebrate it properly because of the events being held at the hotel. With the hectic schedule you were running on, you just realized that you hadn't visited her all day.

It had been a very long week, and you were tired to the bone, but the guilt of not being physically present at her party was gnawing at you endlessly. Almost reaching the point that you forgot your father was just in front of you mere seconds ago - and now he’s disappeared, again.

Heeding to your cousin’s call, you decide to leave the area, leaving a puff of smoke behind you. You reappear the same way at the rooftop, just beside Catherine herself, who looked like she was hiding from someone, crouched behind a table.

“Who are you guys hiding f-” Unable to finish your sentence with Cat shushing you, you crane your neck up a little, glancing at the others who were in similar dispositions. Weren’t they all too old to do this in an engagement party? Or was this a new trend Cat wanted to start?

Your heart clenches nevertheless at the hilarious attempt to hide from whoever or whatever it is they were hiding from. It was quite the scene: an orange tentacle slithering its way to steal a cupcake by the buffet table, Barry Blob thinks he can camouflage as jelly, and Bigfoot was… well, let’s just say he was never meant for a game of hide and seek. The only monster one would have expected to be good at this was your uncle Griffin who was born invisible but he was always the one first spotted because he thinks wearing disguises like a hot pink wig (his choice of the day) would make him unnoticeable.

And yet this is what they supposedly call ‘hiding’.

“Is this the new norm during engagement parties? Hiding from the responsibilities of married life I see,” you suppress a snicker with your palm, and when Cat looks back at you to shut you up, she screams with such fright, alarming everybody on the rooftop.

“Surprise!” Mandy Mummy, one of your closest friends, appears from the other side of the table.

“You guys were meant to surprise me?” Your brows furrow. “Are you all sure? What’s the occasion?”

Frankie Frankenstein emerges from behind the bar, throwing a suspicious look at you. “You’re kidding me, right?”

You look at the others in the hopes of finding a hint behind what was really going on, but Cat beats you to it, extending her arms out as she beckons you closer, “I don’t know how a monster could possibly forget the day she was born, but we’re here now so, happy birthday my dearest forgetful cousin!” Cat gives you an extra slap on your ass in greeting.

Realization finally hits you, reminiscing the short moments throughout the day that had hinted on your birthday. You did see a few of your staff nudge each other in your presence, but you only thought it was because they were hesitant to say something when they knew that it had been a hectic week so far, tight schedules and all.

The rest of the crowd clear out, revealing themselves from their hiding places. Your father appears from one side, carrying a dangerously huge three-tiered cake.

Mandy approaches first, narrowing her eyes at you, “Wait, you seriously forgot your own birthday?” Cat answers in your stead, “She did,” while she points a finger to her temple, reiterating her capability of subjective precognition to the rest of the group.

“Uncle Drac! Can you remind me again how are we related?”

“I wanted to ask the same thing!” Your father exclaims, grabbing a glass of champagne from a gargoyle waiter and trailing off to greet his friends.

“Cat, you know I’ve been busy for so long, I don’t exactly have a birthday countdown every year to remind me of something that is...not really that significant.”

“______, I know we’re practically dead, but that doesn’t mean you have to live like one.”

“Why don’t you try living in my shoes then, hm?”

“I would, if they were Valentinos.” Unable to rack your brain for a smarter response, you roll your eyes at her instead. The guests start singing happy birthday in chorus as they near you. The night continues on a light note, people wishing you another year of happiness and prosperity, likewise congratulating your cousin for her engagement and her soon wedding.

As the conversation eventually moves on to wedding preparations, Frankie spills on the details of Cat’s plans for her bachelorette party. You weren’t so keen with the idea - not when this was the first time it had been offered by the people closest to you.

Bachelorette parties were primarily a human thing - some sort of commemoration of debauchery as you had understood from Google when you had looked it up a few years ago. These kinds of celebrations weren’t exactly included in your traditions but judging by the photos you’ve seen online; you’re sort of glad this wasn’t classified as the norm in your world yet.

Cocktail parties with half-naked bartenders? Masseurs drenched in vaseline? Topless butlers serving dinner? What was with having male nudity as the baseline for such an occasion?

You didn’t think this was going to be a trend in the monster-verse anyways, as your kind comes in different shapes and sizes and these parties just might end up with one seeing a lot more than necessary.

When you try to confirm the plans with Catherine, she just shrugs at you three, telling you all that it was going to be a surprise. You, Mandy, and Frankie groan in unison at her reply.

“Impatient much? You still have the whole day tomorrow to pack your things.”

“We’re going on a trip?! And you’re telling me about this just now? A day before our leave?!”

“Yeap. How long does it take you to pack your clothes?”

“Do you not realize that I have a whole ass hotel to manage? I mean it’s not like I don’t want to go but surely, all my responsibilities cannot be handed over in a span of twenty-four hours? Plus, our week-long six hundred and sixty-sixth anniversary special isn’t over yet! You could have at least told me two weeks ahead?”

Someone places a hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see your own father smiling at you. “You’re just like your mother, darling. Stop worrying so much!”

“Exactly why I told him instead,” Cat raises her eyebrows at you as she points to your father. “Catherine’s right. So, I’ll be taking care of the hotel while you girls have some girly time by yourselves,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Are you sure you can handle Hotel Tersnoa?” Your father almost spits out the champagne as he looks at you incredulously. “Excuse me? Need I remind you who handed the hotel over to you?”

“I know, it’s just… a lot has changed. We’ve expanded the hotel, there’s now a theme park, and a new island has just been opened… it can be a lot…”

Your father dismisses your worries with a wave and a kiss on your forehead. “Nothing I’ve never done before. You’ll be back before you know it. What could possibly go wrong?”

Right. Your father’s words echo in your head.

What could possibly go wrong?

“A cruise?!”

You’d gone through hours of travel, your ass was hurting from the prolonged sitting, and Catherine had not once told you where you were headed, mouth zipped shut. And yet here you were, mouth agape in shock – the betrayal, the treachery, the deception.

Docked in front of you is a humongous white ship, honking its siren with all its might. You’re struggling with attempting to even comprehend the entire situation. Your cousin did not just drag you out of your hotel to another… hotel...on water.

“Welcome to the Bermuda Triangle, where you’ll embark on a monster cruise of a lifetime,” announces a fish-man or man-fish creature clad in a sailorman’s outfit (well he was definitely a fish, but had the limbs of man). All your expectations for this trip had just been obliterated by a singular monotonous, unidentifiable being.

“Psst. Why is your face like that? I heard the fare was astronomical!” Frankie whispers when Mandy squishes between you two, trying to get a brochure from a stall nearby.

Everybody knew Cat was more than willing to spend her money on anything she has set her eyes on (just like that exclusive collection of Hermes bags she has back home) and actively looks for other ways to spend her money (such is a costly cruise) so this trip didn’t surprise you as much as it did Frankie. You’re wondering though, how she found out about this cruise and why she intends to celebrate her bachelorette’s party here.

If a disinterested man-fish was tasked to welcome its guests, well, you can tell there’s really nothing much to look forward to here. You just hope this cruise will give her money’s worth, or rather, at least half of it.

“Hey! This looks amazing!” Mandy exclaims, flipping the colorful brochure over a couple times. “There’s even a waterpark, multiple dining options, bowling alleys, a theater…”

“Sounds like everything you can do…at the hotel!” You can’t help the rising pitch of your voice by the end of your reply while your friends laugh at your indignance. Mandy and Frankie ignore your protests, while Cat whispers near you, “Wait ‘til you see the itinerary!”

“Not you too?! Seriously though, I don’t get why you’ve chosen to do it here, instead of our own hotel…” you pout, head hung low.

Cat pulls you aside, letting the other passengers move forward, “Listen to me darling, alright? All these months, years, all you did was work and work and work again, we barely had any time to hang out together just like the old times, so I figured a break from all your customer service shenanigans and let yourself be served for once. Take a vacation from running everyone else’s vacation. Is that alright with you?”

Giving her an apologetic smile, you pull her into your arms for a tight hug. She wasn’t lying though when she said you had barely spent time with each other. Back when your father was still running the hotel, you’ve spent your early years always practically attached at the hip: from crying over your first boyfriends, through that emo high school phase, to pursuing several degrees, and to spontaneous trips halfway across the world when you were bored.

“Plus, Jer and I intend to start a family as soon as we get married, so these girl trips won’t come by often all the more.”

“You know I love you to the moon and back right? And will you stop making me feel like an aunt when I’m not yet one?! But, to be honest with you, that would be really cute though! Little you and little Jerichos running around… but you know, if Jer will come close to laying a finger on you, just say the word…”

“We zinged, darling. You have nothing to worry about. Maybe you’ll find your zing on the cruise too.”

You roll your eyes at her fondly. As if.

It doesn’t change the fact that you still have second thoughts about this trip. Begrudgingly, you climb up the stairs, sulking as you watch your friends and the rest of the group of the monsters huddle in excitement as they ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the cruise’s features.

When you spot a few of Hotel Tersnoa’s beloved patrons in the group that arrived with you, your heart sinks a little, refusing to believe a fancy cruise could ever question their loyalty to the greatest monster hotel known to your kind. Guess nothing ever truly lasts, even with the undead.

You had initially expected the ship’s interiors with no sort of identity at all, resembling an array of badly mixed cocktails, individually appealing yet when put together looks like a lousy rainbow (you swear it’s not the spiteful hotelier inside you that’s speaking). Much to your chagrin though, the imaginary cruise you had inside your head was definitely not the case at all.

The rest of the monsters behind you continue to marvel at the cruise ship. And, quite frankly, you too are quite impressed yourself, as much as you hate to admit it. You’d never though such modern, minimalistic styling could fit a hotel on water but this cruise just seems to carry it pretty well.

The moment you set foot on the carpeted floors of the cruise, you’re awed at what seems like a celebration of the beauty of mother nature with nearly all furnishings made out of organic materials and colors exhibiting earthly hues. To add to the experience, preserved palm tress line the corridors and chandeliers made of LED lights litter the varnished high ceilings. It was like land on water – if that made any sense at all.

Man-fish continues to lead your group through the hallways, until you arrive at the main deck, just as picturesque as shown on the brochure Mandy held onto earlier. You were starting to realize why your cousin was into this whole cruise.

The creature half your height goes on to share a little history on the cruise ship – known as the Legacy. Similar to your hotel, cruising lines was also a family business for decades but it was only this year that the owners decided to extend the lines from taking human passengers to making a whole ship exclusively for monsters.

As this was the vessel’s maiden voyage and with your group being the first batch of guests to ever board the ship, a welcoming event was to happen tomorrow night, and the creature mentioned something about having the official invites placed in your rooms along with your luggage.

Right on cue, the moment you lean on the railing to overlook the deck below, a marching band appears from the side – a whole parade of man-fishes clad in band uniforms and red and gold. There’s even a few of them who start doing acrobatics, the sight of which has Frankie giggling to herself as she comes up with the term ‘fishcrobats’. She claims she’s the punniest monster in the universe.

The lights on the deck dim suddenly, and bright bursts of color start shooting up from a deck above you, fireworks lighting up the evening sky. It was a breathtaking display, with the others spiraling upwards while the rest exploded into a thousand more sparks. The display continues for a few more minutes, until the band makes a drumroll and a spotlight moves across the length of the ship and points at someone across the deck.

“Woah…” Mandy gapes, words drawling out to a low whistle. “Who. Is. That.”

A man in an all-white dress uniform emerges from the upper deck. “Ahoy there! Welcome aboard! Bienvenido, Zdravstvuyte, Guten Tag, Bonjour! I am V, captain of the Legacy…” Applause follows as the fireworks die down completely. “And yes, I’m human, but don’t hold that against me.” The captain’s eyes scan the crowd until they meet yours. He winks.

As soon as the blonde-haired captain looks away, Frankie squeals in your ear. “He totally just winked at you!”

“No, he didn’t,” you retort, never having been so grateful for not having a pulse, else Frankie would have your heart beating out of your chest.

“Yes, he did.”

The two of you were about to start bickering about the wink when the captain continues, “I’m very excited to have each and every one of you onboard for our very first monster cruise!” As unusually graceful as nobody else could probably do, he slides down the railing of the stairs as if he were just gliding through thin air.

“You’ll enjoy gourmet dining, thrilling adventures, and non-stop entertainment – all on our way to our final destination: the lost city that isn’t lost anymore – Atlantis!”

Your jaw drops – not because Atlantis had ‘apparently’ been found, in fact, it was never lost in the first place; they just cut ties with surface dwellers because of damage brought about by water pollution. In your defense, it was the humans were uncontrollable with their despicable habits but you can’t really put the blame on the Atlantians. It was their home after all, and they only wanted to protect it. Just as you would with Tersnoa.

What truly surprised you though, was how he managed to snag a partnership with them when you had vying for one since you took over the hotel. Well, your business proposition was never officially offered on the table, but still! Perhaps, if you made an entrance as grand as him, you would have succeeded though.

It was getting crowded where you stood, and Mandy tugs at your hand, pulling you down to the lower deck. Begrudgingly, you go down the stairs, sulking as you watch your friends and the other monsters huddle in excitement. You even recognize a few of the other passengers who are likewise patrons of Tersnoa. Or at least they were, now. Guess nothing truly ever lasts, even with the undead.

He reaches the lower deck in no time, greeting the other monsters with a wave and a smile. When he nears and you get a better look at him, you feel your entire body shudder – in a strangely delightful way, wave after wave of this electric feeling reaching until the very tip of your toes.

It feels as if every vein inside of you is pulsating, despite being practically dead. You felt…alive. A million thoughts rush through your head, with your gut feeling telling you something that is almost unmistakable. You have never, ever felt this way before but your intuition tells you this is the exact embodiment of the stories you’ve heard so many times in your lifetime. Could it be? Was it even possible?

The sensation was inexplicable, foreign too, yet it felt right. Like… like it was meant to be, perfectly destined in the most peculiar of ways. Digging through your purse, you retrieve the small mirror inside made specifically for vampires. Taking a quick glance of your reflection on the glass, you take notice of your irises that have turned purple, almost lavender in color. Gulping, you return the mirror into your purse at once, confirming your suspicion.

You zinged.

With the captain.

Who was human.

Frankie nudges your shoulder when she notices you stiffening beside her. “Is everything okay?” You feel your friend’s blue, stitched hand land on your shoulder. Giving Frankie a short reassuring nod in response, she shrugs it off, not before hearing her mumble about noticing something different with your eyes. Thankfully, the manifestation of the zing comes in different ways with every monster specie, so Frankie wouldn’t get the hint that you’re in deep, deep trouble.

Years of listening to stories of your culture and traditions rush to your head, all with the same words resonating throughout your brain. ‘It can make you cry; it can make you high; but, one thing a zing never does is lie – for it stays with you until you die.’

Shaking your head, you attempt to rid your thoughts of this man. He shouldn’t be your zing; he can’t be your zing. This was a huge mistake. The must’ve made a mistake. How could the very kind of people who murdered your own would also be the one designated for you – a soulmate, in human’s terms. You don’t even know how you're supposed to react to such a thing. Was it a curse? A blessing perhaps?

You continue to watch the man in silence. Sweet baby Jesus, the visuals this man was bestowed with. Maybe the man up there was real after all, and he had spent all seven days to craft this ethereal being. Even if he was meters away, his mere presence already makes you weak in the knees – considering the fact that you really haven’t officially met the person.

With his almost unrealistic face, you’re left wondering if your bodily reactions were caused by your zing or the captain really holds such prowess over creatures of all kinds. You wonder if it’ll be easy to forget your painful past and move forward? Trust the zing like all monsters do?

After promulgating the greatness of the monster population and how big of an honor it is for him to hold the first ever monster cruise, he also apologizes afterwards on behalf of his fellow humans for the mistreatment of your kind, drawing nearer and nearer to your group, eyes trained on you when he’s not busy welcoming the other monsters.

In an attempt to keep yourself from trembling, you clasp your hands together. Momentarily taking his eyes off you as he greets another guest, Mandy leans toward you and nudges your rib, “That, my friend, is what you call: a hottie. Go get him, tiger!” Blinking your eyes, you recollect yourself, giving her a dubious look, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Honey, anyone with a single working eye can confirm to themselves that the captain has been hand-sculpted by the gods themselves. And don’t tell me you don’t notice the bed eyes he’s giving you the whole time,” Mandy chortles bandaged shoulders bumping against your own as she does. “Deny it all you want now, darling, but I have this gut feeling that the love boat will be sailing very soon.”

Just then, as if on cue, the captain makes a beeline for your group, a small sultry smile playing on his lips. You feel like your insides wanted to crumble into sand and disperse into thin air. God, the things this man does to you…Rather, the things you want him to do to you. Now, your own brain betrays you with inappropriate thoughts and he’s currently in front of you looking like a whole course meal. He has such pretty eyes too and oh- this is bad. This is very bad.

“Ah, if it isn’t the one and only Countess Dracula,” he says, voice low as his eyes bore themselves into your soul (as if you still had one). “May I?” The captain takes your hand in his and gingerly places a kiss on the back of your palm. You’re rendered speechless by the small gesture, while the rest of your friends gape at the captain like he had suddenly grown three more heads.

“I’m known as V around here,” he keeps your hand in his, and you’re instantly all too conscious of everything – what if your hand was too cold for him? Or too clammy perhaps? All your worries are diminished when he doesn’t seem to take notice of any of your present worries, tugging you closer to him as he inches towards your face, warm breath fanning against your cheek, “but you can call me Taehyung.”

He pulls back just as slowly, sending you and your friends an innocent boxy smile. “Guess I’ll be seeing you lot around! Please enjoy the cruise. And remember, if there’s anything you need, feel free to approach me anytime.”

Walking away to attend to his captain-y duties, the three other girls gather around the moment he’s out of sight. “What. Was. That.” Catherine questions, punctuating each word with numerous blinks.

“I’ve already sent a prayer to Anubis to take care of our dear ______’s departed soul,” chimes Mandy, waving a hand in front of you in the hopes of taking you out of your shock.

“Whoosh! There goes _______’s undies!” Frankie adds as she throws her head back in laughter. Your cousin tsks at them to get them to stop teasing you, but with the smirk she’s sporting on her face, you’re certain she’s going to bring this up sooner or later.

With a deep sigh, you hang your head low. This was going to be a long vacation.

Right after Taehyung stages the entrance of the century and greets the cruise’s guests, he discreetly makes his way to a less crowded part of the ship and walks briskly along a dimly lit hallway. Pushing forward an inconspicuous panel on the wall leading to a secret passage, Taehyung silently makes his way done to the lower level of the ship.

The stateroom is almost pitch black as he enters; Taehyung feels his way through the room, solely relying on muscle memory to head to the bedroom. When he turns on the light to check on his great-grandfather, the old man squints, croaking out Taehyung’s name. Rushing to the elder’s side, the dutiful great-grandson pours water on the glass by the bedside table.

Taehyung perches himself on the edge of the bed, taking his great-grandfather’s frail hands in his own. “Dracula – is he on board?” the old man rasps, voice almost whispery. “No,” the younger man shakes his head in denial, “but his daughter is.”

The former winces a little when he tries to shift in his bed, “Even better. Tear him apart by slowly taking his loved ones away from him one by one. Let him feel the pain we had to go through.”

The blonde-haired captain sighs when his great-grandfather coughs again, wheezing as he does. “Promise me you’ll avenge our family, Taehyung. I’m not sure if I’m going to make it any longer, but if I won’t…” he coughs, the strain on his voice evident. “Grandpa, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” The old man waves his hand, dismissing Taehyung, “Promise me…for your mother, for your father, and the rest of our family. You and I are the only ones left, my dearest great-grandson. We have no one else to rely on but each other.” The old man’s hand clasp weakly against Taehyung’s.

He tucks his great-grandfather in his bed, and waits patiently for the old man to fall asleep before leaving the room.

You and the girls roam around the deck for a little longer, before deciding to call it a night and head to your rooms. It’s quite the walk all the way there, but as you get farther from the hustle and bustle of the crowd and onto a more secluded part of the vessel, not to mention the rooms are getting father apart from each other, you suppose Cat had picked the best suites available on the cruise. Typical.

Not putting much thought into it with exhaustion taking over your body, you tiredly take a half body bath and head to bed.

Rising a few hours later, you plan on checking out your cousin’s accommodation choices. Just as man-fish had mentioned the night before, there was in fact an invitation placed on top of your bedside table, the gold linings too attractive to miss out on. How could you have possibly missed it though, is all up to your fatigue last night, far too tired to even scan the room.

Heading to the kitchen first to make yourself a cup of coffee, you’re greeted by the beautiful glow of the sunrise as you exit your bedroom. You’re momentarily stunned by the beauty of it, as it was your first after a long time to see the sun, or at least a quarter of it. Contrary to popular belief, sunlight doesn’t incinerate vampires, nor does it make you vanish into thin air. In fact, the closest stories had gotten to your biological truths was that sunlight made you weaker – sort of, because the only explanation for it was that you get really bad sunburn under its rays. But that’s nothing a small bottle of Witch Republic’s Suncream Lotion SPF 5000 can’t fix.

Equipped with a 60-inch smart television mounted on a wall, an equally large painting was hung across the room, serving itself as the background for the sitting area.

The fittings are generously provided for, if the room truly claims it to be a suite for couples: a settee is placed in front of the television for viewing purposes, and another is placed vertically across for lounging and enjoying the view of the balcony.

The balcony – was magnificent in all senses of the word. From a picture on the tiny ‘Legacy’ booklet you grabbed from the table, there really wasn’t much to a panoramic view of the sea but as you pass through the wide windows, the beautiful orange glow from the dawn adds a lovely burst of color in the predominantly monochrome furnishings of the room.

You inhale deeply, breathing in the fresh sea air. You spend a few more moments there, leaning over the balcony until Frankie ruins your moment from a couple of meters away, calling you loud enough for the rest of the ship and the Atlantic Ocean to hear. She drawls your name out, screaming her excitement over your rooms. “I haven’t slept like this since I got my arm re-stitched!” You laugh at her before waving and returning to the sitting room.

A part of you was taking mental notes – possible additions and improvements to your hotel, yet the other half of you wants to allow yourself to enjoy small pleasures like these. Maybe Cat was right all along, that you needed a break from running the hotel and truly relax for a while. With the size of this suite though, you can’t help but wonder if Cat got you all the couple suites solely for your enjoyment or hers.

You decide to take your mug of coffee with you to the balcony and breathe more of the satisfying sea air until the sun rises in its entirety and you retreat back to your room, wanting to sleep in the warm duvet of your bed once more. Maybe this vacation won’t be that bad after all.

Shopping with Catherine was never an easy task. If you could say so yourself, shopping with your cousin was a whole workout on its own.

It’s been three hours since she’s dragged you, Mandy, and Frankie out of your rooms and offered you a shopping spree and free lunch. Who was one to deny such graces? Even when all three of you knew you all would end up following your cousin wherever she went until you’d all complain about how she has to take too long when she always ends up buying everything she sees anyways.

As you stare at your seated self by the full-length mirror, you start to have second thoughts about discontinuing that beginner’s program subscription in yoga before you let Catherine drag you out of the comfort of your room. Sighing in defeat, Frankie turns to you with a similar expression on her face.

Starving, the three of you leave Cat momentarily to look for something to eat, and at the sight of a frozen yogurt stall across the hallway from where you’re seated by the Chanel windows, you and the rest of the girls immediately saunter towards the quaint stall.

While you wait for the girl to finish up your orders, your eyes are busy wandering all over the place in an attempt to count how many shops and boutiques they managed to allocate inside the cruise ship. Guess your hotelier side is already one with your true self.

As you watch a loud group of male monsters exit the arcade nearby, you catch sight of someone awfully familiar: the last face you’d want to see when you’re stuck inside a cruise ship for a few weeks.

Your eyes follow the group, wanting to make sure your eyes are not playing tricks on you. Like a hawk, you watch the group closely – one man in particular, yet he won't seem to look in your direction. You wanted to forget all about it and pretend you didn’t see anything, but you figure this is going to cause you a number of sleepless nights if you don’t. Quickly, you resort to a plan that will have to cost you more energy than just observing, but you were determined to make sure that it was really him.

Focusing your vision on a nearby potted plant, you make the clay vessel move an inch as you try to catch his attention. The first try doesn’t work and neither does the second. Hell bent on your resolution, the third time works the charm (obviously with a more significant amount of distance the plant has moved).

Your suspicions are confirmed – it’s truly him.

Just like that, all sorts of emotions course through you and you feel the corners of your eyes starting to well with tears. He laughs at something one of his companions say, and you feel your heart clench as you look at the same smile you fell for years ago.

It’s takes you a while before you process somebody has been calling you name several times, then you see Mandy waving her hand in front of you. “You okay there? What happened?”

Etching an ingenuine smile on your face, you turn to face her as she hands you the dessert, “Nothing…just thought I saw someone familiar…”

“Mhmm,” Frankie hums, scooping a large portion of yogurt into her mouth, “as long as it’s not you-know-who, then it’s irrelevant,”

“Actually, I think it is him.”

Frankie chokes on the sliced strawberry topping she just ate. “What?!” Mandy places a hand on your shoulder, an apologetic look on her face. “Don’t tell me that fucker is also here?!” Shushing her quickly, you reach out to her to tug at her arm to keep her quiet.

“What fucker are you talking about?” Catherine questions, approaching the three of you with two extra paper bags in her hand. Frankie keeps her mouth shut, thankfully while Mandy comes in to the rescue. “Frankie was just talking about how fucking tasty this froyo is. In fact, I think so too – would you like to try some?” The girl offers her cup, eventually feeding Cat with a spoonful of fruity toppings.

The subject is quickly diverted and as your cousin rummages through her bag to look for the cruise’s official pamphlet, both Frankie and Mandy give you a knowing look.

“Lunch anyone?” You propose to the other three, already wishing you’d soon be forgetting about even seeing your ex-fiancée earlier.

You’d gotten back to your room around half past five, nearly collapsing to the floor after hours and hours of shopping with your cousin. The girls had agreed to use your room to prepare for the party later (one discussion you don’t remember agreeing to) and had gone around the sitting area, placing their bags done and going through their purchases.

You, on the other hand, had gone straight to the kitchen to look for something to drink. Besides, you just know they’re going to ask for something too later on, so you just grab a few bottles of water for the girls. As you rested against the cool fridge while opening a bottle of your own, you spot a punnet of strawberries sitting on top of a counter.

“Did any one of you bring strawberries here before we left?”

When they chorused their replies of denial, you check the strawberries warily, lifting them off the marble top. You hear something slide down when you open the container. A card came in with the strawberries.

Returning to the living room with strawberries in one hand and the card in the other, Frankie stands from the settee and snatches the card away from you. She waves the small piece of paper in the air, claiming it was a love letter. “Dear _______, I really think you’ve got a wonderful smile, but it’d be better if it was the only thing you’ll be wearing tonight!” she says, pretending to read the note.

“What?! You’ve already made a move without telling us about it? Lemme see!” Mandy exclaims, running after your stitched friend.

“Oh!” Frankie says, pointing to the sky, “Looks like we might be expecting a few inches tonight, hmm?” she adds, snickering as she pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue repeatedly, and rather inappropriately.

“Y’all disgusting really. ‘M going to shower.”

“Make sure you don’t have too much fun with the showerhead!”

“Fuck you Mandy!”

“I would if you were my type!”

Catherine waits until she hears the water running before turning to her two friends left at the sitting area. “I’m worried.”

“About?”

“My cousin.” The eldest of the girls says, tapping her nails against the couch – a nervous habit. Frankie sets the card back down and nests herself on the carpet just across Cat. “What is there to worry about?”

“This thing between my cousin and the captain?” Carding her fingers through her hair, she closes her eyes before continuing, “Does the fact that he’s human not bother you…at all?”

“The dude’s harmless! And he better think it through when he tries to do something – he’s literally in a ship full of monsters. Do something dumb, he can get his head bitten off in no less than two seconds.”

Catherine is not convinced.

“Plus, I’m sure it’s just a one-time fling – surely, ______’s smart enough to know that. I just firmly believe that one must get laid regularly because penetrative sex is medicinal. And who knows? There might be cobwebs down there already!” Frankie adds.

Cat flings a brochure at Frankie before scrolling through her phone’s gallery then stopping at a portrait of you and her. “I’m just concerned about _____’s wellbeing. This is the most time we’ve spent together for the past two years, and I’m not even sure if she’s fully recovered from what she’d been through with you-know-who.”

“Even worse, what if she falls for the dude? Or she zinged? Or they both zinged?!”

“Hey, hey…” Mandy scoots over to Cat’s side and wraps an arm across her shoulder, “you’re overthinking now babe, and! This is your bachelorette party, stop worrying about stuff. _____ is a strong, independent woman. If she can handle the best hotel in monster history, then handling a man will be too easy.”

“Come out already!” Mandy whines impatiently from outside, knocking impatiently on your bathroom door. You smooth a few creases on your dress before you open the door to reveal your outfit. Shock was a heavy understatement. Cat’s usually beautiful features twist into one of distaste, Mandy pretends to gag at the sight, and Frankie avoids your gaze as she purses her lips.

You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your throat when they look at you up then down, scrutinizing your fashion choices.

“What. The hell. Is that?!”

“Why are you too covered up?”

Their hostilities continue as you give them a twirl, genuinely confused with their reactions when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with choosing a long-sleeved rayon blouse with ruffles in the front and a green pleated skirt.

“You didn’t tell me you’re meant to apply for the queen’s secretary?” Frankie questions, rummaging through your luggage.

“You mean Queen Elizabeth I?” Mandy adds, snickering along with the rest of the girls.

“Hey! G4 says she was pretty! And educated for her time too!” you cry in protest.

“Same with you darling. But it’s a party we’re attending and not a royal appointment, so will you do me a favor and wear this instead?”

Your mouth falls agape in shock.

“What?! This dress is… is barely covering anything!” You look closely at the satin blood-red piece of clothing as Catherine hands it to you. Needless to say, just looking at it was a cultural reset.

“Glad to know you’re unaware of that point.” Mandy butts in, “you’ll be happy to know that this dress will get you a man in no time either way.”

“Either way?” Frankie questions before leaving your room to looks for heels to go with your dress.

“Yeap,” the mummy replies, touching up her make-up, “Either you get a man who will cover you up or you’ll find one who will gladly take it off for you later tonight

Catherine coughs, “The captain,” winking at you while she pushes you towards the bathroom, “Chop chop now dear! We still have a party to attend to tonight!”

The party is already in full swing by the time the four of you arrive. The crisp, chilly air hits your face as you get to the main deck, and as you wrap your arms around yourself, you know you're already regretting having worn Catherine’s dress. Arms bare, half of your back out in the open, and a thigh-high slit? Really? A towel could’ve afforded you more modesty than this dress.

Mandy immediately heads to bar, leaving you all to ‘pick your poison for tonight’. Pursing your lips at your mummified friend, you trail after your cousin as she looks for a table to settle yourselves in. You scan the crowd, watching the other monsters move to beat of the music, and also, just in case someone you don’t want to see decides to show up again out of nowhere.

Mandy finds you shortly afterwards with a waiter trailing behind her, carrying a tray of ambiguous looking chalices. Oh boy.

This night was headed straight to hell.

Nearly an hour later, you practically waddle back to your table, breathless and throat parched as the desert. Catherine clings onto you like her Hermes Himalaya Birkin, just as exhausted as you were. Why do you always seem to forget that Mandy dragging your asses to the dance floor has never been the smartest choice?

The moment you get back to your table, you reach for the bronze goblet and down the rest of your drink. The distinctive burn has you keening, tightening your fingers around its stem. Beside you, Catherine coughs after she takes a sip of hers – “What the fuck is in this drink?? Methane?!”

“Throat…on fire…I feel like a fucking dragon,” you attest, voice raspy.

“That, my dear girlfriends, has been mixed by yours truly,” Mandy announces with a proud smile on her face. “I call it the Devil’s Piss.”

You shake your head at her, rubbing at your temples. Starting to feel the sweat break at your hairline, you want nothing more than to return to your suite and sleep the night away. Closing your eyes, you draw a calm scene inside your head: watching the sun set by your balcony as you sip on your hot chocolate –

Your dreams of orange skies and the soft breeze are cut short when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Countess, the captain requests your presence on the bridge.” Your eyes follow the direction of where he was pointing and see a pair of eyes staring back at you.

Perhaps sleep could stay second on your list tonight.

Cat wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as you bow your head in embarrassment, your cheeks flushing when the rest of the girls whistle and howl as the man-fish stoically escorts you to the bridge. Once you arrive at the top of the stairs, the man adjusts your grip on his elbow as he gently takes your hand and stretches it forward for you to continue on by yourself. “The captain will be waiting inside, Countess” He bows curtly, and your left on your own to walk towards the bridge.

“Countess.” There’s the low timbre of his voice again, sending shivers down your spine effortlessly as you close the door behind you. He doesn’t speak after that, just taking in what you’re wearing tonight, subconsciously biting on his bottom lip as he takes in the outfit your friends have chosen for you.

Every step you take is wobbly, like your legs have turned into goo. The chilly breeze up here is likewise not helping your skin already prickled with goosebumps.

“_______,” Taehyung grabs your hand and gently places a kiss on the back of your palm. Another strike of electricity shoots up your spine at the small gesture. Goodness, what the hell was going on with you?

“Y-you don’t have to do this e-every time we meet.” Inwardly cringing at your shaky voice, you look away and exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t help.

Especially not when the captain is less than an arm-length away, and being able to see him this close is doing dangerous things to you. “This is the first time I’ve been on a ship’s bridge,” you comment lamely, keeping the conversation on a sane note. The thirsty ass hoe inside you doesn’t seem to approve of the idea though, unfortunately.

“Really now? How is your first time on the bridge then?”

“It’s…different.”

“Different? How so?”

“Different from trying to run a hotel I guess, which was all I was doing for the past few years…It’s an unlikely comparison, I know, but being here…it’s like you get to oversee everything from the bridge, which I never get when I’m back home, like…you know you’re in control?” You were merely blabbering at this point, but then again, your brain loses control of your bodily functions when you're in close proximity with this man.

“You like being in control then?”

The tiny creaking sound coming from the floor tells you he’s taken a step closer to you, and the warmth coming from him is driving you insane. Damn this bloody dress of Catherine. You’re at a loss for words, neurons short-circuiting at both his question and how it’s equally chilly and hot at the same time in this small space.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much that you can't seem to find the appropriate words to voice out a reply, instead, you just turn around to face him. A gasp escapes your lips when you accidentally bump into his chest when you do so.

“Oh! Crap! I-I’m sorry…” You apologize meekly, fiddling with your hands and refusing to meet his eyes at all costs. The captain places your chin between his fingers and lifts your face for him to look at. He doesn’t say a word either, instead, just leans down and captures your lips in a feverish kiss.

Surprised – was an understatement. You hadn’t really expected him to call you over to the bridge and the next thing you knew he’s already kissing you. He immediately pulls away when you don’t reciprocate, apologizing profusely and mumbling about misplaced affections.

“No!” You exclaim, causing the captain to jump a little. You gather your courage and rub at your temples. “I mean…Captain V, your affections have not been misplaced, it’s just this…monster thing that has me acting like this the whole time, and I really have zero control over it and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence as you feel his warm, moist lips on yours again. His strawberry-tasting lips glide over yours smoothly that you find yourself leaning towards him as you melt into the kiss. You’re first to pull away this time, breathless. “Forgive me, Countess…I’ve been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you on this ship,” he says, cupping your face as he rests his forehead against yours. “So beautiful,” Taehyung whispers against the shell of your ear and trails a finger from your cheek and eventually down to your collarbones as he ogles the cleavage Cat’s dress had generously given you tonight.

“Taehyung.” He places a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “Call me Taehyung, please.” He smooths his hand over your hips, tightening his grip as he pulls you closer and kisses you once more. You feel something hard against your stomach – oh. Your mouth parts when he starts to grind, slowly and devilishly against you and he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His gaze darkens when he sees the expanse of skin the slit of your dress reveals as you shift your legs, thigh now out in the open. Attaching his lips to yours again, Taehyung distracts you from the way his slender fingers dance their way up dangerously near your core.

Your head bows in embarrassment when you remember Mandy checking if you’d worn the right underwear earlier, ‘If they’re not lace, they have to go.’ So when she busted inside the bathroom as you were changing into Cat’s clothes earlier and saw your favorite cotton panties (with an embroidered flower on the front), she quickly rips the material in distaste, strongly suggesting that commando is the way to go. It won't be long until Taehyung discovers –

“No panties huh?” Taehyung observes, voice low and deep. “Yes,” you reply breathily, closing your eyes as you ignore how you're throbbing all over in such a short period of time. You try to regain your wits back, your first zing too overwhelming that everything seems like a haze.

With a new, albeit questionable, surge of courage, you move your hand to palm him through his pants. When Taehyung bares his neck to you to elicit a groan, your head subconsciously dips towards the spot where you feel his pulse the strongest. In an instant, your primal instincts begin to take over you, baring your fangs and grazing them dangerously against his skin.

Holy fuck.

This man was going to be the cause of your death.

It’s been a while since you’ve been in close proximity with a human, and being this close to the captain has stirred up something inside of you that you never knew still existed.

Back in the days when humans had mingled freely with your kind, witches had placed suppressants in the Tersnoan atmosphere so that a monster’s primal instincts won't ever be able to take over your diplomatic selves.

Now that you were much older with fully developed senses, being this close to a human with no suppressants whatsoever had inevitably awakened your inborn vampiric tendencies.

Needless to say, your generation of vampires had gone ‘vegetarian’ in a sense. Your lifestyle no longer consisted of hunting down people for food, but you opted for a healthier alternative and a more convenient source of food: coconut juice. Besides, human blood never really came in highly recommended by the older generations, claiming it tasted like loneliness and despair.

What they failed to warn you of, however, was how intense the urge was once you were only a hair-breadth away from a human being who is very much alive. The temptation was getting stronger by the second, and the pulse coming from Taehyung’s jugular vein was ringing loudly in your ears.

Both the desires of hunt and lust were slowly taking over you, your judgment, and your irises, and your lips quake ever so gently at the excitement coursing through your veins. As you feel your irises change its color from their natural ones, to purple then to gold afterwards, the surprise in Taehyung’s eyes has gotten prominent, yet, with astounding self-control, he manages to keep the rest of his body calm and collected.

He gulps at the small smirk that plays on your lips, “To answer your question, I like being in control,” you say lowly, grazing the tip of your nail against his jawline, “but only when the need arises so.”

For a moment, you sense his fright with your golden eyes and fangs on display, but you feel it dissipate quickly when you bunch his shirt in your fists and pull him closer to you. Taehyung then takes this as a cue to continue his torment of his featherlight touches, causing you to lean against the wheel as your head falls backward at the sensation.

Brazenly, he hooks a hand under your thigh and wraps your leg around his hip, allowing himself to grind harder against you, the friction of his dress pants against your bare heat sending you to a state of near delirium. The moment is cut short however as you both hear footsteps approaching the bridge. The captain puts your leg down as abruptly as he hooked his arm underneath it earlier.

As you wait for the two man-fish creatures to pass by the wheelhouse, you and the captain keep a modest gap between each other, letting the staff move across the bridge and until they take their positions by the front portion of the deck. Just as if the captain wasn’t groping you merely seconds ago.

The moment they’re out of sight, Taehyung closes the distance between the both of you, resting his weight on you as he presses you further onto the wheel of the ship. Subconsciously, you bite your lip as you feel his boner practically begging for your attention.

His actions are hastier this time around, and quite frankly, you're glad he has managed to equal the same level of urgency you had. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to hold onto your sanity with the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Else, you’d be taking the matter in your own hands.

Every contact of Taehyung’s skin with yours has you skin ablaze, and you’re unsure if it’s due to the (partly) shameful fact that you haven’t been this intimate with someone for the past few years that you're this responsive. He’s fondling your breasts with one hand, unabashedly tweaking and playing with your nipples. The other hand is busy squeezing your thighs, fingers dancing lightly across the exposed skin of your leg.

Your breath hitches as he unexpectedly cups your bare mound, digits swiping against your folds. Body quaking at the feeling, your body leans forward, but Taehyung has other plans, tugging you back harshly to his chest. “You think you can stay still for me sweetheart? You wouldn’t want my staff to think we’re christening the bridge, do you?”

Maybe, just maybe, the thought didn’t sound so bad?

“Oh?” Taehyung hisses when he feels your quick intake of breath at the thought. He finds your clit seconds later, rubbing the nub languidly, “you seem to like the idea, hmm?”

“Taehyung, please,” you beseech, leaning towards his touch and grinding your hips against his palm in desperation. You’re uncertain if this was an effect still caused by the zing but at this point, you just wanted a release from his relentless teasing and you’re more than willing to work for it if you have to.

The captain revels in your responsiveness and as a reward, he complies with your request, quickening his pace and toying your clit with more vigor than ever. Your hands, previously just as busy groping Taehyung, now shoots out to grip at the helm, your high approaching rapidly. He inserts a long, dexterous digit to accompany his other hand, helping you reach your climax faster. A second finger has you reeling, gripping the helm even tighter than before, knuckles turning white at the sheer strength. One kiss on your neck is all it takes, orgasming so hard that Taehyung has to hold you still lest you lose your balance.

You're still panting a minute later, having turned around and resting your hands on Taehyung’s chest for support. You both stay like that for a moment in each other’s arms, until you’re brought back to reality by the captain’s boner brushing against your tummy. “Can I?” you ask as you look up to him, thumbing the waistband of his dress pants.

“_______, darling, as much as I’d want to you right here, there’s too many of my staff roaming around the bridge for the night. And if these creatures walking about isn’t bothersome enough, it’s the fact that fish don’t blink either…so there’s that…” Taehyung states before placing a kiss on your shoulder. “If you desire so, I’d gladly continue this in my room…” the captain offers, looking at you expectantly as another pair of the fish men round the deck.

“I think we should go with that.”

He nods briefly, placing a wet kiss on your temple before taking your hand in his. Giddy as a teenager at the sight of her crush, you let him lead the way to his stateroom, unable to hide the shy smile on your lips. Once he leaves the wheelhouse to one of his first mates for the night, he squeezes your hand and continues on, palm contrastingly warm against yours as you walk to his room together.

“Did you enjoy the strawberries I had sent you earlier this evening?”

“Definitely. They’re one of the sweetest bunches I’ve tried in my life! Thanks for them by the way.”

“You did? They’re handpicked from our very own greenhouse on the ship!” Taehyung looks back at you with the brightest smile, eyes crinkling with the purest delight. Your heart crumples at the sight. How could the zing have possibly chosen this man for you – or worse, how are you supposed to deal with this type of duality?

One moment he’s brazenly fingering you inside the wheelhouse with blinkless staff roaming about and the next he’s talking about growing strawberries and how farming has been therapeutic for him. How is one man so devilish and wholesome at the same time?

Just like that, conversation flowed natural between the two of you: the similarities of having to run a hotel (as well as a heated debate on whether or not a hotel on land or on water is easier to manage), hobbies you enjoy on a spiritual level, and a few bits and pieces of him as Kim Taehyung and not the captain of The Legacy.

You’d just learned he doesn’t drink coffee, nor does he drink alcohol; he plays the saxophone and claims he’s pretty learned with the instrument; and that he loves taking photographs. In addition, he’d also told you about how he was born and raised in Korea hence the faint accent, but he’d grown up moving from place to place with his great-grandfather due to their family business, and that’s how their voyages helped him practice his English and even pick up a few foreign languages.

Your getting-to-know each other session is brought to a pause when the blonde-haired captain stops in front of a door in a dimly lit corridor. Quietly, he fishes for something inside his pockets, takes out his keycard and taps it against the door lock. Taking a peek from outside, you wait for him as he turns the lights on before following him inside.

Mouth agape as you enter, your eyes wander around his stateroom, marveling at the sheer grandeur of the captain’s living space. Just when you thought Catherine had given you and your friends the luxury of staying in a suite large enough to house a family of five, the captain’s stateroom on the other hand could easily pass for at least ten people.

Taehyung’s suite exactly looks like it came from a magazine spread, akin to a million-dollar apartment…at a high-rise residential tower…located in the middle of the busiest city in the world.

The captain lets you roam around his stateroom, a small smile playing on his lips as you gape over every detail in the room. It was modern interior design taking to a whole new level.

Monochromatic in a way, yet for some reason, he had it strategically designed to make it look more dynamic, alive somehow. You were no expert in the field of interior design, but with your modest experience in running a hotel (from choosing what type of cotton will be best for the beddings to organizing parties with more than a hundred participants), you could easily tell every nook and cranny of this room was heavily planned out.

Pointing at the stairs, you wordlessly ask for his permission if you could go up and check out the upper level. Taehyung doesn’t follow right after, momentarily heading to his kitchen. Significantly smaller than the lower floor, the second level houses his bedroom, with a heap of curtains serving as a divider and cover from those staying below.

His bedroom speaks more of him than any other part of the stateroom. Just as he mentioned earlier, there’s an open saxophone case on one corner, next to another black violin case. You also take notice of the makeshift tie hanger he’d made using the coat stand.

What truly catches your eyes though, is the array of photographs hung on the walls. It’s a mosaic of some sort, with photos spread from a corner then occupying half of the adjacent walls. Some are framed, some are printed on canvas, and a number are on photo paper and pasted on the beige wall. They’re caught on film, you reckon, with the distinct grainy resolution common amongst the photos.

Swiping your finger against the wooden frames of the pictures he’d hung, you study each photo thoroughly, trying to figure out the story behind each picture. There’s three more situated on his bedside table, Picking up the one with Taehyung smiling widely beside a boat’s mast.

“Ah, my first sail,” Taehyung says, taking a step near you. The tiny hairs on your nape stand at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. All of a sudden, you realize he’s standing too close – too close for you to remain sane.

You keep the framed photo in your hands, yet your thoughts have ultimately flown far away from whatever story was behind the picture; like how you hear his heart beat a little faster.

“Enough about me, countess,” the captain whispers as he places a hand over yours and guides yours back down to the bedside table. For a second there, you’d forgotten

For a second there, you’d almost forgotten he literally had the same fingers inside you just a few moments ago and that you’re now reminded of the main and sole purpose why you’re here in his bedroom.

“What about you?” Taehyung sets the strawberries down next to the photograph, then tucks a few strands of stray hair behind your ear. Each teasing touch is driving you closer to madness, like every move of his is calculated as if he knows he has this effect on you.

Lamely, you echo his words, “What about me?”

“Do you still want to look at more of my photographs or shall we continue what we started earlier?” It’s so awfully quiet inside the room that you basically hear yourself gulp at his proposal.

Weren’t your bodily reactions enough to serve as an answer?

You wanted to act less naïve (and appear a whole less desperate) that you’d imagined giving him a proper answer in your head, but here you were, stiff as a gargoyle statue, cowering beneath the warmth radiating off Taehyung.

Thoughts too haywire, you're unable to rack your brain for an appropriate reply, so you return the question to him: one with a double purpose – for him to ponder on and for you to recollect yourself. “What do you want?” Slowly, you turn to face him, bracing yourself for the hormonal uproar you are to experience.

The captain pouts cutely while in thought before darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. Taehyung gently brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingers subsequently tracing the outline of your collarbone. “I want,” he starts off, toying with the strap of your dress and wrapping it around his finger, “to take this off.”

Letting him slide the straps off your shoulders, you inhale deeply, anticipation doubling by the second. With your shoulders tense, the straps fall only until your elbows. Taehyung notices your hesitation and tenderly takes your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting your head up so he could face you properly.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Feeling sorry for him having to deal with your worries, you cup his beautiful face in your hands, “I want to. I really do – it’s just…it’s been a while.”

You're grateful when he leans toward your touch, sending a soft smile your way. “Of course, darling, we’ll take it slow.” Relaxing your shoulders, the thin straps of your dress fall down the length of your arm with the rest of the fabric following shortly after.

Core throbbing immensely with want, you take initiative this time, claiming his mouth with a newfound sense of courage and urgency. Your knees threaten to give in when he matches the intensity of your kiss. With haste, you thumb at the zipper of his pants, causing him to trip on his own feet and fall forward.

The blonde-haired man brings you down to bed with him, stretching his arm out just in time to break his fall, making sure he’s not resting too much of his weight on you. “What happened to taking it slow?”

Taehyung is just as breathless when he helps you with your predicament with his pants. “Fuck it, there’s plenty of time for that later but I need you,” you pant, unable and unwilling to keep your hands to yourself – brushing against his clothed erection, sliding them against his defined chest, wrapping your hands by his neck to pull him closer to you…

“I need you now, inside me, please Tae…”

He withdraws from your body and kneels by the edge of the bed. Legs already shamefully spread and ready, Taehyung rummages through the drawers of his bedside table, looking for something. At the mention of condoms under his breath, you wave at him, trying to catch his attention.

He turns to you, eyebrows raised. “No need. Human sperm can’t get us pregnant anyways. Are you clean?”

“Got checked three weeks ago, that good with you?”

You nod your head, beckoning him over. Taehyung wastes no time, taking his boxers off to free his dick from the confines of his underwear. He crawls over to you and places a kiss on each of your thighs before taking his cock and sliding it against your wet folds.

He uses yours and his essences as lubricant, jerking himself off first before pushing the red tip of his shaft slowly. In consideration of your own pleasure, he doesn’t rush his entrance, just pushing slowly then drawing it back to prep you properly.

Taehyung continues with that, until your hand shoots out to grab him by his wrist, giving him a tug to let him know you’re ready. Silently, he nods, this time pushing his cock inside until he’s fully seated inside your warm walls. “So t-tight.” Taehyung shivers when you experimentally clench around him.

“Babe,” the captain breathes out while heat rises to your face at the term of endearment. “Please don’t do that again, fuck, I might just cum early if… if…” Taehyung falls silent again, groaning as you clench one more time, “you're just one naughty girl aren’t you?”

When you shrug your shoulders in reply, it’s like something inside Taehyung snaps because he gives you a playful smirk before thrusting harshly. You mewl at the feeling, fingers tugging at his hair in encouragement.

“Y-you're so big,” you cry out as he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock deliciously brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust. “Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, continuing the fluid motion of his hips, “your pussy was made just to take me then.”

He goes almost animalistic, thrusting even deeper, stronger as he chases his high. “Think you can cum with me sweetheart?” Taehyung queries, pushing his hair back when he feels the edges of his fringe tickle your cheeks.

Taehyung deftly finds your clit while he’d continued his torment with his hips, a single moan coming from your mouth is all he needs before proceeding with abusing your nether nub. It doesn’t take you both much after that, both your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, one after the other.

A few more hours into the evening and you find yourselves still tangled in each other’s bodies, worshipping each and every inch of skin as you get overcome by lust over and over again.

Taehyung collapses to your side after what seems like… in fact, you’ve actually lost count of how many times you’ve climaxed. Panting, he looks at you with a smile reaching his eyes, “That was…” He’s at a loss for words but when he hears laughter bubble out of you at his cuteness, he joins in.

The laughter dies down, yet you’re still staring at each other – no words needed to explain what had just transpired between the both of you tonight. You stay still and contented, basking in the euphoric bliss. He says he can't stay awake any longer, bidding you a good night’s sleep and sweet dreams.

You manage to stay awake though, on the contrary, swearing to yourself you’d just seen his eyes flash lavender before falling into a deep slumber.

Send me your thoughts? x

#bts smut #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #btsguild #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #btsghostie #houseofddaeng #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #kim taehyung scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts au fanfic #bts fluff

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siancore · 3 years

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Summary: Rick did not like shopping at the best of times. He was happy to shop online. With just a few clicks, everything he needed was paid for, shipped, and delivered to the letterbox in his college dorm. He avoided a bunch of fellow shoppers, didn’t have to worry about finding parking, and did not get distracted with things he shouldn’t want or couldn’t really afford. Yes, Rick did not like shopping, especially during the holiday season. That is until he needs to buy something for his mama and meets a young woman who works in a giftshop.

A/N: Richonne Christmas AU one-shot. All feel-good fluff

Word: 3,788

Rick did not like shopping at the best of times. He was happy to shop online. With just a few clicks, everything he needed was paid for, shipped, and delivered to the letterbox in his college dorm. He avoided a bunch of fellow shoppers, didn’t have to worry about finding parking, and did not get distracted with things he shouldn’t want or couldn’t really afford. Yes, Rick did not like shopping, especially during the holiday season. Luckily, his friends Morgan and Shane went with him for moral support when he needed to choose a gift for his mama.

The sound of Mariah Carey’s voice coming through the speakers of the PA system in the mall wafted around the friends as they walked beside one another. Christmas garlands with lights hung overhead, and there seemed to be a plastic, decorated tree in every shop window they passed. People were everywhere, trying to find the perfect gifts for loved ones. Rick wouldn’t really say it was last minute shopping, as it was the first week in December. Normally, he would leave gift shopping until a week or so before Christmas, but wanted to get it over and done with sooner this year.

Shane nudged Rick’s shoulder and then pointed toward a novelty gift store that looked like it sold everything from those tuxedo t-shirts to marijuana paraphernalia.

“There,” he said, wearing a wide grin. “Bound to find something in there for your mama.”

Rick and Morgan shared a look that was somewhere in the middle of disbelief and disgust.

“Nope,” said Morgan.

“Nuh ah,” Rick added. “I’m not gettin’ my mama one of those bikini t-shirts or a bong.”

“Why not?” asked Shane, still smiling.

Rick rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“The fact that you even have to ask me that makes me question why we’re friends,” said Rick with no malice behind his words. Shane just laughed and clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“You’ve been stuck with me since third grade, asshole,” Shane replied. “Now, if y’all are too good to come in that store with me, there’s a classy lookin’ place over there. Let’s meet up in the food court at that burger joint you like.”

“Thirty minutes?” asked Morgan, checking the time on his phone.

“Alright,” Rick replied. “Sounds good.”

The three friends nodded to one another and then went their separate ways: Shane to the novelty gift store, Morgan to a quaint little hole-in-the-wall bookshop, and Rick to the classy lookin’ place.

…..

One of the reasons Rick disliked shopping in public was that there was so much choice. He ended up overthinking most of the time. When the well-meaning staff asked if he needed any help, he normally gave a polite smile and told them no thanks. This time, however, he could probably use the help. The little shop had a wide variety of really nice gifts ranging from silverware to delicate looking jewelry boxes. Any one of the items would be appreciated and cherished by his mother. Rick was almost hesitant to touch anything because it all looked so pretty and nice. He wandered over to where the little glass figurines stood on a glass shelf. There were tiny little people, cars, monuments, and animals.

Rick’s eyes settled on a cute looking puppy figurine. His mama loved dogs. She would love the small glass one. Carefully, Rick picked it up and placed it in the palm of his hand so that he could examine it more closely. It was very nice. Yes. His mama would like it. Smiling to himself, Rick made his way to the counter to purchase the figurine. He was met by a friendly looking older lady.

“Found something?” she asked with a warm smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rick replied as he placed the little puppy down on the counter.

“Ooh, these are really lovely,” she proffered as she searched around for the blue box that the item came with. “I have a bunch of them myself.”

“I like it,” Rick found himself saying. “Hope my mama likes it, too.”

“A gift for your mama? What a lovely boy you are. She’s gonna love it.”

Rick smiled and nodded his head as the lady continued speaking.

“Now, this box is fine and all, but we have a gift-wrapping service here, and it’s free for the whole month of December,” she explained. “Would you like it wrapped up all nice for your mama?”

“Yes, ma’am, that sounds really good.”

She gave Rick a smile and then said, “Alright, I won’t be a minute.”

The lady then walked to the curtain that covered a doorway that led to the back of the store and called out, “Michonne? Honey? Got a customer who needs somethin’ wrapped up.”

She returned to where Rick was standing and said, “If you wait at the end of the counter there, we’ll have our gift wrapper fix you up.”

Rick nodded, smiled, and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

He then made his way to the end of the counter with the little box in his hand. He was busy looking out the shopfront window when his attention was drawn by a sweet-sounding voice. Rick turned his head and he swore his breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on the young lady standing before him. He was certain he was staring, with his jaw on the floor, because she repeated her question.

“You needed something wrapped?”

Rick needed to look at her lips to make sure he understood what she was saying because, holy shit, she was stunning. She had the prettiest brown eyes Rick had ever seen. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a chignon. Her smile was so bright that it was blinding. Rick was awestruck.

“Sorry, yeah, yes. I uh, I’d like this wrapped, please,” he stammered, mentally chiding himself for not being smooth in front of the pretty girl.

He placed the box down on the counter and managed to smile at her. She smiled back at him and he swore his knees felt weak.

“Is it for a he, she, or they?”

“Pardon me?” asked Rick, still not able to function properly.

“Not that it actually matters,” she replied amicably. “But some customers choose wrapping paper based on if the gift is for a guy or a girl, so I have to ask.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” said Rick, while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “It don’t matter to me. I mean, it’s for a lady, but anything is fine.”

Rick glanced down at the nametag on her lapel, which read Michonne. A pretty name for a pretty woman, he mused, tempted to say her name out loud to see how it felt on his lips. He was drawn from his reverie by Michonne asking, “Is it a Christmas gift?”

“Yes, a Christmas gift,” he replied, kicking himself for malfunctioning in front of gorgeous Michonne.

“Awesome,” she replied with that brilliant smile. “I have some really nice Christmas wrapping here. Do you want foil or paper?”

“Umm, paper?”

“Great choice,” she replied as she reached under the counter and got out a few items: Three rolls of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and a roll of cello tape. “Which do you prefer?”

Rick had to force his gaze away from Michonne to look down at the choices. There was a roll of paper with multi-colored stars, one with tiny Santas, and the other with snowflakes all over it. The snowflakes one was the nicest, but he knew his mama would think the Santa one was adorable. He chose the Santa paper.

“Great,” said Michonne. “I really like this one. It’s super cute.”

“Yeah,” said Rick as he watched Michonne get to work.

Her long, elegant fingers made it look so easy as she cut through the paper, placed the box on it, and then began to fold the wrapping around the gift. She was done way too quickly. Rick wanted to stand there and watch her for hours.

Yeah, creepy, Grimes, he chided himself.

“Thanks, that, uh, that looks great. You make it look easy. You’re really good.”

“Thanks, it’s just a lot of practice,” she replied, somewhat coyly. “Did you want a ribbon or a bow?”

“Yeah, thanks. A bow would be nice.”

“Alright, any preference?”

“A gold one?”

“A gold one it is,” Michonne replied with another grin, before placing a small golden bow in the center of the wrapped box. “Did you need a bag?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great,” said Rick as Michonne placed the box carefully into a small, paper bag.

She held the bag out to Rick and their fingers brushed against one another slightly. Rick thought he was going to pass out.

“Thank you,” he said, still standing there.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a beautiful beam. “Happy holidays.”

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, you too. I mean happy holidays to you, too.”

They both stood there smiling bashfully at one another until another customer cleared their throat behind Rick.

“Umm, thanks again.”

“No problem,” said Michonne. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too,” he said as he finally began to walk away. “Bye.”

…..

Now, Rick wasn’t a weirdo creep or anything like that, but he was a little smitten. He could not stop thinking about Michonne from the giftshop. He may or may not have went back to the mall and walked by the shop to see if she was there. They may or may not have caught one another’s eye and proffered friendly smiles. He may or may not be a crushing hard on the young woman.

A week after first meeting Michonne, Rick found himself back in the giftshop. He was pretending to be looking at the small jewelry boxes while stealing glances at Michonne. It was ridiculous, really. He was a broke college student who had already chosen the perfect gift for his mother. He didn’t even like shopping. He had no business being back in the shop. He was about to leave when Michonne finished up with the customer, and their eyes met.

Shit, he thought. Have to buy something, now.

He picked up the least expensive jewelry box and made his way to the checkout. He paid the same older lady from the previous week, and then took the boxed item to the end of the counter for Michonne to wrap.

“Hey, back again,” she greeted with her dazzling smile that made Rick feel all gooey inside.

“Hey, yeah, so much great stuff here,” he proffered, much more smoothly and confidently than he had been the first time they met.

“What’d you get?” she asked, causing him to stand up a little straighter. She wanted to have a conversation, he realized, and he was beyond happy.

“One of those little jewelry boxes,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. For the rings.”

“Yeah, a ring box.”

“They’re really pretty.”

So are you, he thought.

“Yeah, they’re real nice.”

“Pretty paper for a pretty gift?” she asked warmly.

“Yeah, sure. That’d be good. You choose.”

“Alright, well, let’s go with this silver foil wrapping,” Michonne said as she took out what she needed.

“Okay, looks nice,” Rick said, wanting to keep talking to her while she worked. “You, uh, you got all of your Christmas shopping done? I mean, if you celebrate Christmas. Sorry, I shouldn’t assume everyone celebrates this particular holiday. That’s just inconsiderate on my part. I shouldn’t go around assuming things –”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine,” she said with a little chuckle that settled into Rick’s chest and made him feel warm all over. “I do celebrate Christmas, and I actually did all of my shopping online back in September.”

“That’s smart,” said Rick, reining his nerves back in. “I left it late this year.”

Michonne nodded her head. The gift was wrapped, and she was placing a little red bow on top of it.

“Is this the last of your shopping?” she asked, reaching for a paper bag.

“Umm, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Well, whoever this is for is a very lucky person.”

Rick smiled at Michonne and took the bag from her hand.

“Thanks,” he said as he slowly moved away so the next customer could be served. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” she replied.

…..

He was going to do it. He was going to go the mall, make his way over to the giftshop, and ask Michonne out on a date. If he was lucky, he mused, she would say yes and they would go get coffee, or whatever she liked to drink, and he would charm her, and they’d have an amazing time, and then they’d fall in love and have a cute story to tell their grandbabies. He was going to do it. He was. He walked into the giftshop and Michonne wasn’t at her workstation. Rick sighed and decided to browse a little in the hopes that he would see Michonne sooner rather than later. When she wasn’t at the counter after five or so minutes, he was about to leave when another staff member approached him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” the teenaged boy asked.

“Hey, no thank you, I’m just browsing –”

Just then, Michonne came from the back of the shop and went to her spot at the end of the counter. A line of customers formed, and more were entering the shop, and Rick saw his chance at speaking with Michonne slipping away.

“Actually, I might get these,” said Rick, pointing to a box of six silver-plated, embossed coasters that were probably out of his price range.

“Great choice,” said the boy as he took the coasters from the shelf. “Let me ring it up for you.”

…

As the line grew shorter, and Rick got closer, he felt his resolve falling away. This was actually ridiculous. He was there spending money he couldn’t afford to be spending so that he could talk to a pretty girl? Ridiculous.

“Hey, so you’re still shopping?” Michonne asked with sweet smile.

“Hi,” said Rick with a bashful smile. “Yeah, just a few more things.”

He placed the coasters down on the counter and Michonne glanced down at them.

“These are really lovely,” she said before meeting Rick’s eyes with her own. “Any preference for wrapping?”

“Nah, I trust you,” said Rick, causing her to beam more brightly.

“Aww, so sweet,” Michonne replied before she began her work.

He watched her graceful hands as she cut a gorgeous square of paper and placed the item in the middle of it. She then cut a piece of red ribbon and sat the paper over it. Rick looked on as Michonne carefully and skilfully folded the paper and bound it together with the ribbon which she then tied in a bow on top. It was perfect. She didn’t need to use tape to hold it all together.

“You’re so good at that,” Rick complimented her again.

“You always say that,” Michonne replied. “But thank you. Hey, did you want to add a gift tag?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Rick replied, eager to spend more time with Michonne.

“Cool, let me just grab one for you,” she said, fishing out a brown tag from under the counter. She took a pen out of her pocket and then asked, “Who do I address it to?”

“Oh, umm. It’s for, ah, Sheila. It’s for Sheila,” said Rick, not really thinking about who the gift was for, since he hadn’t planned on even purchasing it to begin with. He went with his mother’s name.

Michonne nodded and then wrote Sheila in beautiful cursive on the small tag.

“And it’s from?”

“Rick. It’s from Rick. That’s me. I’m Rick.”

“Rick,” she said, and he swore hearing his name on her lips damn near made him ascend. “There you go, Rick.”

“Thank you, ah –”

“Michonne,” she said. “I’m Michonne. Nice to finally be properly introduced.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thank you, Michonne.”

Wow, it feels great to say her name out loud, he thought before smiling at her.

“You’re welcome, Rick,” she replied as she handed him the bag with the gift in it.

…..

“Rick? I need to borrow some drawers, man,” Shane called out as he walked into Rick’s bedroom and made a beeline to the tallboy.

“You don’t have any clean underwear?” asked Rick, as he glanced up from where he was sitting on his bed reading one of his textbooks.

“Nope, that’s why I need to borrow yours,” said Shane as he dug through the bottom drawer. “I’ll get ‘em back to you ASAP.”

“Ugh, no thanks. Keep ‘em.”

“Hey, man, what’s all o’ these?” asked Shane as he pointed to the gifts sitting atop the tallboy. “Hope you didn’t go buyin’ me anything.”

“They’re not for you.”

“Who’re they for then?”

“No one.”

“No one?” asked Shane dubiously as he picked one up and read the tag. “Sheila? As in your mama? You dumb enough to call her by her first name?”

“What? No. They’re not for mama. They’re just. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Rick, you’re not makin’ a lick of sense. You wanna explain?”

Rick let out a sigh and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s stupid,” he repeated. “There’s this girl.”

“A girl named Sheila? You goin’ with some girl with the same name as your ma? That’s weird.”

“No, dumbass, there’s no girl named Sheila. Her name’s Michonne. I met her a few weeks ago. And she’s somethin’ else. I’m tellin’ you, man, she’s so gorgeous and sweet. And I’ve been meaning to ask her out, been buildin’ up to it, but I haven’t and I want to.”

“Okay, well, that’s cool, but what’s she got to do with all o’ these gifts? You gonna give ‘em to some girl you ain’t even asked out yet?”

“No, it’s not that,” said Rick as he took a deep breath. “She works at the classy lil’ giftshop I went to the other week. I got my mama’s gift from there, and Michonne wrapped it for me. I took one look at her and I was so gone on her.”

“Hold up. Hold up. So, you’re tellin’ me you’ve been goin’ back to the shop, buyin’ shit, and gettin’ this pretty girl to wrap them for you? Shit you don’t need, and probably can’t afford? Just so you can stand in front of this chick and not ask her out? And you’re callin’ me a dumbass?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Shane shook his head and then burst out laughing.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Get your ass down there and ask the girl out, Rick. Before you buy the whole goddamn store out you dumbass.”

…..

Shane was right, Rick was a dumbass because he was standing in front of Michonne with a little cat statue that she was calling gorgeous while trying to figure out how to wrap it. She sat it on some foil, drew it up around the figurine, and then tired it with ribbon at the top. It looked great.

“Sheila’s very lucky,” said Michonne as she placed it carefully into the bag filled with tissue paper.

“Sorry?” asked Rick, too distracted by the words running through his mind.

“Sheila, your girlfriend,” said Michonne, looking slightly deflated as she said the words. “She’s super lucky to have a boyfriend like you getting her all of these amazing gifts.”

Rick pressed his palm to his face. Yes, he was a dumbass.

“Oh, no, no. Sheila’s not my girlfriend. It’s my mama’s name.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“No, I don’t. I ah – shit. I’m sorry. It’s – damn it, let me explain. Do you go on a break soon, or?”

“Umm, yeah. Ten minutes or so. Why?” asked Michonne, with a questioning look on her face.

“Would you like to get some coffee with me?”

“Coffee? Like a coffee date?”

“Yes.”

“What about your girlfriend who you’ve been buying all the gifts for?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Rick explained. “I don’t even have anyone to be buyin’ all of these nice things for. Truth is, I’ve been comin’ in here trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Michonne, really,” he said gently. “I just wanna buy you a coffee. Or just spend some time with you. Would you wanna do that? Would you wanna spend some time with me?”

Michonne narrowed her eyes a little as she contemplated Rick’s request.

“Yeah, sure,” she said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

…..

Christmas day in the not too distant future…

“Dad, I love it, thank you so much,” said Carl as he smiled down at the gift that his father had given him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” said Rick with a warm smile.

“I can’t open this,” said Judith as she tried to untie the intricate ribbon.

“Give it here, honey,” said Sheila as she reached out her hands. “Let grandma help you with that.”

The small girl handed the gift over and leaned against the old woman’s chair.

“Why don’t you check the stockings,” said Rick to his daughter.

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot,” said Judith as she made her way to where the stockings were hanging over the disused fireplace at Sheila’s home. Her gaze landed on the little glass ornaments sitting atop the mantlepiece. One little glass puppy, and a cat statue sitting next to some coasters and a ring box. “Grandma, these are so cute. Where’d you get them?”

“Those were a Christmas gift from your daddy. They’re very special to me,” Sheila said with a fond smile.

“They’re special to me, too,” said Rick, as Michonne, André and R.J. came back into the living room with a tray of steaming beverages. She set it down on the coffee table and took up a seat next to her husband.

“We got hot chocolate,” said R.J. excitedly.

“And marshmallows,” André added.

“Thank you, my babies,” said Rick with a loving smile.

“Why?” asked Judith, ever the inquisitive child.

“Sorry, honey?” asked Rick.

“Why’re they special to you?”

“Because,” said Rick, as he turned to Michonne and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “If I didn’t go shopping for them, me and your mama might not have met.”

Michonne took hold of Rick’s hand and leaned in to kiss his lips.

“Well,” said Judith as she watched her parents stare lovingly at one another. “That means that they’re special to our whole family.”

“That’s true,” said Michonne as she leaned her head on Rick’s shoulder. “But you know what’s even more special?”

“What?”

“Our family,” Michonne replied happily. “Merry Christmas, Team Grimes.”

#richonne #richonne xmas au #richonne fanfiction

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

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Sounds Like Heaven (Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Y’all though I would leave... nah ah I’m back. Anyway this was requested by an anon and I wanted to kind of twist it, cause I do believe that the whole “I’m on my period and can’t lift a finger” not only is it overdone but it’s also not really believable since there are those cases of immense and unbearable pain but most women have learned how to deal with it so we overdose on pills and just move on... anyway enjoy!

“Klaus for the millionth time I am completely capable to take care of myself”

“I know that, but when do you ever let me take care of you? So be a doll, sit back and relax”

(Y/n) was always very stubborn, specifically when it had to do with Klaus seeing her as fragile. He was this invisible big hybrid that no one could really kill and she was just this mere human that he had to keep an eye out cause even a thin piece of paper could slice her skin. She had never really understood the concept of mortality until she met him, before he strolled into her life she saw herself as this strong, independent being that could take anything, yet now she had Klaus running behind her to make sure she was alright while he could take a stake to the heart on any given day without the fear of death.

“So I bought this tea for you, it’s supposed to relax you and its infused with lavender and vanilla, do you like it?”

He asked her as he passed her the mug with the said tea. (Y/n) was in her “lady days” as Klaus would call it, which she found really weird, a vampire that has lived over decades didn’t want to say period. Klaus had seen how uncomfortable she got and how she would get random pains in her stomach, the part that was more concerning to him was during nightfall, where she would try and sleep but end tossing and turning for what felt like hours until she found a position that was comfortable and stopped the cramps. So this time he made it his mission to make her feel better and ensure that she is well taken care of.

(Y/n) took a small sip and let her taste buds judge the new hot liquid that went down her throat. She smiled at him as she let her back touch the pillows once again, nuzzling in the comfortable fluffy blankets with content

“Tastes like vanilla with caramel”

“Good, Excellent. Enjoy your tea dearest, I will make you some delicious dinner”

Klaus was aware of how much (y/n) hated soup, it made her feel like she was in a hospital or reminded her how her mom would force her to eat it when she was sick, so now as an adult soup was the devil to her. With that information he decided on making her some mashed potatoes that she seemed to find very comforting and steak with gravy, what could be more filling than that?

(Y/n)’s dinner was quite small, she wasn’t this millionaire that could afford mansions because she was alive over a century, yet that came in handy since she got to enjoy her TV series and also watch Klaus’s back while he prepared dinner. She slowly sipped on her tea and observed him as he ran around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, mixing them and putting stuff in the oven.

“Whatever it is that you are cooking it smells heavenly”

“I’m glad you like it love, just give me a few minutes to prepare my presentation”

(Y/n) giggled at how invested Klaus was at making her this dish. If you had told her that she would find a man that would prepare a meal for her because he wanted her to be happy and full during her period a year ago, she would have laughed in your face. Klaus wiped the plate to make sure there was no spills or anything unnecessary, he served it with some cold lemon tea, (y/n) wasn’t a big fan of alcoholic beverages during her meals.

She clapped in an excited manner when she saw the tray coming to her. Her eyes where already on the plate, seeing that he had cooked her one of her favorites, of course he knew exactly what to do to cheer her up. As soon as he placed it right in front of her she took the knife and fork and dug started slicing the tender meat an took some of the mashed potatoes to smear it on her bit, when the first bite touched her tongue a little “mmmmhhh” was heard from her.

“Oh it’s so good”

“Still got it”

“Oh yes you do, you should open a restaurant”

“Well since my sweet is in that said industry maybe when you become misses Mikaelson we can open one together”

(Y/n) was one of the few people that actually loved to work in customer service, specifically in restaurants. She loved to get closer to the customers and be part of their great meal, that’s how they had met so Klaus never minded it, although he did mind when he saw her after a particularly difficult shift, hearing her groan as she took her shoes off and complained that she smelled like food. That part to him was quite hilarious, to him she was always... edible, one way or another.

“Don’t patronize me Sir, cause I might take you up on that offer”

“I hope you do, Rebekah would be more than delighted to plan our wedding”

“Would you be okay with me walking around our mansion being pretty and hiring maids and chefs to do everything?”

“Would I be okay with having you be the madam of our household? Dearest, that sounds like heaven”

(Y/n) put her fork down for a quick minute so she can pucker up her lips and let him place a kiss to show him her appreciation. Of course she had thought of marriage, immortality with him did not sound so bad when Klaus and his family would be around, her and Rebekah had grown to be get pretty close and Elijah was always kind and helpful with her, almost like the older brother she always wanted.

“Come now eat up, I have prepared some raspberry bavarian cream for desert”

“When did you learn how to do that?”

“To be quite honest, I saw your shampoo was with raspberry so I thought you might enjoy it”

“You spoil me way too much”

She said as she picked up the cutlery again but instead of cutting one bite for herself she offered it to him. He opened his mouth for her to feed him and smiled as they looked at each other, they were already acting like a married couple that was still on the honeymoon phase, still their honeymoon phase should have ended long time ago, now there they were still acting like 15 year old’s around one another.

“Of course I spoil you, what other reason do you have for staying with me?”

“I can think of a few, wait a few days and I can get in more depth over them”

“Naughty little girl... I will write that down on my agenda, for now I have to go and prepare your dessert. Get ready to be amazed”

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

“I’m in love,” Piper tells her when she shows up for another fitting. “Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“I heard the song.” Annabeth says, “isn’t that enough?”

“God, your whole play-acting thing is too far if you’re pretending to not like Beyonce.”

“I never said that.” Annabeth holds up her hands, “I like the song. But I did not see the video.”

“Well, when you see it, you’ll be in love too, but I will fight you.”

Piper could be scrappy in a fight. But Annabeth had been a champion fencer in high school.

“Kidding!” Piper says at her look. “There’s plenty of them to go around.” She didn’t even start to drape fabric over Annabeth, pushing her onto a muslin covered couch, and then pulling the video on the TV. She didn’t have one of those voice control devices. Because she was friends with Leo, and he was pretty firm on them being evil. “But I do call dibs on the main guy. The CALVES. The thighs. He’s unreal.”

“That good?” Piper went all ways, though as of late she gravitated towards women more often than not, so this was some high praise indeed.

“Unreal, I am telling you. Like, the hand of God came down and sculpted him personally out of marble.”

Already in her recent watch history, the thumbnail of the video greets them, the song title splashed across the TV screen, weaving between a very, very familiar set of legs.

Like, intimately familiar.

In something of detached horror, she watches the camera pan up, lovingly lingering on every inch of bare skin, following the muscles of his calves (which were unreal) to his knees then his thighs (which Annabeth had spent almost too much time between now), up his torso and his chest (which she knew made for an excellent pillow) to Percy’s face, set in a firm, hard stare.

And that fucking blue lipstick again.

She can’t even focus on Beyonce herself, too distracted by the way her hand traces the length of Percy’s outstretched thigh held in perfect arabesque as she gracefully drapes herself over him, crooning softly into his ear.

Annabeth should do that next time. That’s her spot, after all.

Tearing her eyes away from the screen even as Piper watches, enraptured, she slips out her phone, sending a quick, furious text.

annabeth: BEYONCE???????

A minute, then he responds.

percy: oh lol i didn’t realize that came out today 😁

percy: what’d you think?

annabeth: i think im going to kill you later

“Just look at him,” Piper says, pausing on Percy’s form, his arms outstretched, fingers placed delicately around a bar. “I mean--look at him!”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, maybe a little uneasy. “He’s alright I guess.”

Incredulous, Piper swivels her head. “Alright? Alright? Do you need your eyes checked?”

She just shrugs.

Why is she being so weird about this? It’s just Piper. She’s trained to find symmetry and beauty in bodies. They’ve happily shared crushes and fixations plenty of times before, so why is Annabeth being so weird about Percy? It’s not like they’re… you know… dating or anything. Just hooking up a bit.

Piper squints at her, then shrugs herself. “Fine. I don’t have time to get an answer out of you anyway. Come on.”

“Speaking of time,” Annabeth says, following Piper back into the kitchen studio, “I have to head out by 6:30.”

“Oh yeah?” Piper’s head is buried in her belt box, searching for the perfect accent. “What for?”

“I’ve got a show to catch.”

“Kind of early,” she says, pulling out something thin and silver. “Don’t you usually meet Thalia at the ass crack of midnight?”

“Well I kind of want to eat first.”

“Okay.” She cinches the belt around her waist, tight. “Then you’re going to have to help me with this skirt.”

***

Hands aching from hours of macrame, Annabeth walks up to the box office window at the Koch Theater at 7:46, having a handful of second thoughts.

Old, uppity white couples keep shooting her some particularly intense passive aggressive glares, some of them even venturing into actually aggressive territory, which usually wouldn’t even register on her very short list of things to care about, except that she is feeling woefully out of place. The lady in front of her has ten pounds of diamonds hanging off of each old, wrinkly ear, and the best Annabeth could do was fish out her least-ripped pair of jeans, pairing it with one of her nicer black shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover most of her tattoos. The macrame kept her longer than she had meant, so she didn’t have time to change before dinner, but fuck it, right?

She did also take out most of her face jewelry on the way. But she left the nose stud, obviously. And the tongue piercing. And the industrial, because Percy really likes those, so she doesn’t feel that bad about it. And he hadn’t even told her about this until after she had already given herself the half-undercut, so it’s not like she could do anything about that either.

“Can I help you?” At least this box office worker isn’t giving her the stink-eye.

“I’m here to pick up a ticket? Should be under ‘Jackson.’” He’d offered to leave it under her name, but this was safer. She doesn’t think her mom is a big ballet person, but she isn’t about to risk it, either.

She slides the ticket towards Annabeth beneath the glass plane. “Enjoy the show,” she says, with a quirk of her mouth that is surprisingly sincere for someone in customer service.

She’s pretty sure she’d enjoy the show more if she weren’t panicking thinking about getting dirt on their fancy carpets. Her boots are clean, of course, and she doesn’t really care, but she doesn’t want to, like, embarrass Percy or whatever. She’d asked him if she should dress up, but he’d assured her otherwise. “No one’s going to care, I promise,” he’d told her the night before, her lounging in his bed while he did some pushups. “And if anyone says something, let me know and we can kick their ass after the show together.”

“Great. Guess I don’t have to break out the Chanel, then.”

He’d paused, frowned, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Like the idea of Annabeth wearing Chanel was hilarious. Like what she’s wearing tonight really is the best that she can do.

Self-consciousness isn’t really a feeling that Annabeth has anymore. She’s spent so many years chafing against expectations, shucking them off when she inevitably failed to meet them, desperate for a place, a crowd where she could just be. In her scene, she doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and when Percy is out with her, he doesn’t need any convincing. He likes her. He likes her a lot, she thinks. He likes her enough to let himself be dragged out to every shitty dive bar and shittier rock show in New York City, laughing and cheering and holding her close the whole time. He likes her enough to cart her to his apartment at 4 AM, inevitably waking Nico up from his undead slumber, and leave her with nothing but a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. And she likes him, too--a lot. Annabeth likes Percy enough to ditch her band t-shirts for a night and track mud on the carpet of the Koch Theater and willingly sit through a performance of fucking Swan goddamn Lake of all things, and it’s only a little scary how much she is willing to do for him after only a few months of fucking him. Because this really isn’t her scene, not anymore.

The weight of everyone’s stares bears down on her, threatening to crush her beneath them, a feeling she was so sure she’d left behind.

At least Percy had been thoughtful enough to get her a ticket out of the way in the back of one of the balcony sections. It’s a bit of a hike, but the audience members aren’t dressed quite as nicely as the ones downstairs, and she feels like she can breathe a little easier.

She pulls out her phone, checking her text messages on instinct. There’s a selfie from Percy in his stage makeup (and she’s not going to lie… he looks fucking pretty), with his standard accompanying three blue heart emojis. She can’t help it, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but smile, even as she rolls her eyes. She’s just about to send him something appropriately sarcastic when another text notification slides in. It’s from her father.

Hi Annabeth… I was talking to a friend in Boston who said he's looking for a new

prospective in his architecture firm. Passed your information along.

Love you, dear

She swipes it away. Deletes the whole text conversation, for good measure.

Forget about him. This night is about Percy.

A few minutes later, so engrossed in Percy’s program bio (it’s about all she can focus on right now), she doesn’t even notice everyone around her leaning forward in breathless anticipation, until the warm, honey-like sound of the oboe draws her head up.

Roughly two minutes in, she’s really wishing she had attempted the synopsis. The extent of her knowledge of Swan Lake is a few half-remembered orchestra rehearsals in her teens and reading the Wikipedia article on that Natalie Portman movie a few months ago, and she definitely doesn’t recall there being anything about any Men-in-Tights looking motherfuckers prancing around. They’re sort of bobbing, back and forth, elegantly stepping from one side of the stage to another. Even from back here, she can see the delicate, precise placement of their hands, fingers curved just so, moving through space as though they aren’t bound by the laws of physics.

The fingers, she remembers. She could never get the hang of the fingers. Her old ballet teacher had given up on them after a week, and that had been the beginning of the end for that particular extracurricular.

Now her fingers tap on her jeans, impatient, far faster than the easy going music on stage. She’s just about to give in to the millennial instinct and pull out her phone, maybe play a round of sudoku, when the dancers motion as one to the back corner, and Percy comes stepping out. His hair is perfectly slicked back, gelled down, any hint of curl beaten into submission, and his smile is small, but white, gleaming against the tanned brown of his skin. She can’t help but smile back, like he could somehow see her. Finally, she thinks, relaxing a little more into her seat. Something to watch.

On his off days, her off days, any day when she would spent the night at his (always at his, never at hers) and wake up wrapped in his comforter and the smell of seawater, she would take the blanket with her and steal into his living room, curl up on his couch with her feet tucked under her legs, and watch him dance. She’s seen him drill these sequences over, and over, and over again, counting furious sequences of sixes and eights beneath his breath in duet with the thuds of his feet on his floor. Most times he would notice her and shoot her a grin, granting her permission to observe the artist at work. Sometimes, though, he would be so caught up in his body, the shifting of his feet and the music in his head, that it was like he couldn’t see her at all. Seemingly alone, he would dance, uninhibited, and she would be struck by a feeling that she usually reserves for specific monuments. Watching Percy dance in his apartment, in his brown tights and black tank top, lost in his own world, is like looking at pictures of the Gateway Arch, or the Hoover Dam, or the Parthenon.

She searches for that feeling now, leaning forward in her seat, eyes hungrily raving his form, but she just doesn’t see it. It’s… honestly, it’s a little boring. She won’t lie. He had warned her it would be something of a slow start, but this isn’t exactly an ADHD friendly medium, and she is losing her patience, just a bit. He’s so reserved, like he’s holding something close to his chest, impersonal as he takes the hands of the female dancers and lets them twirl around him.

Personally, Annabeth thinks that he looks kind of lost. Maybe he’s just nervous--it’s a big role and he’s a young guy. But he had seemed fine when he’d kissed her goodbye just after lunch.

The court jester is killing it though. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, she lets her eyes drift over to him, deciding to watch him for a while instead.

On some level, she does appreciate the skill on display here. Percy can raise his back leg in a perfect ninety degree angle that would make her architecture professors sweat. The girls drift back and forth across the stage on the tips of their toes, weightless and ethereal. It’s mesmerizing, and she lets herself be mesmerized.

Time must slip away from her, because she blinks and all of a sudden the stage has gone from sunny yellow to cool blue, the crowds of dancers having vanished. He is alone on stage. Percy kneels in a deep lunge that makes her thighs ache just looking at him (and for… other reasons), his arms and his attention pointed to the wings, with a… Annabeth squints. When the hell did he get a crossbow?

But everything is swept to the sides when the White Swan tiptoes her way on stage, impossibly graceful, and all of a sudden, Annabeth gets it.

It feels a little cliche to say, but the way that woman moves on the floor really does remind her of those old, vintage jewelry boxes, suspended in animation, moved by some otherworldly force. It’s amazing. It’s a little terrifying. Sublime is the word that comes to mind as Annabeth watches her. Her arms move with fluidity, perfect curves, her fingers trailing behind her like wings.

And Percy is just as mesmerized as Annabeth is. As the audience is.

A few things hit her, in rapid succession. First, that Percy is, actually, a really good actor. His reticence before--he’d been playing a character. He’d been playing aloof and reserved and unmoored, because Percy--Siegfried--whatever--has been waiting his whole life for something to fulfill him, until this singular moment, the moment he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. Second, that she doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. It’s all there, in every look and gesture and step, as the two characters circle each other, slowly but irrevocably falling in love. And third, that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s the look that Percy gives her when she has been talking for too long and he can’t get a word in edgewise, or when she screams along to the god awful underground bands, three beers in and missing every single fuck she’d ever had, or when she wakes up after him to Percy’s arms around her waist, her hair in his mouth and her head resting against his collarbone. She recognizes it, because that’s the look that Siegfried has for Odette. Because that’s the look that Percy has for Annabeth. Because he loves her.

And fourth, that that doesn’t make her as happy as she wishes it would.

There’s a cold pit in her stomach for the rest of the show, a turning screw that twists in deeper, minute by minute, with every turn of the dancers. She wastes the next hour trying to puzzle this out, not even pretending to watch the drama unfolding on stage, because it makes no goddamn sense. (Her situation, not the ballet--she managed to skim the synopsis during intermission, her foot tapping incessantly against the blessedly empty seat in front of her.) Things are great between them. It’s been a heady, intoxicating four months, full of bubbles and butterflies, sweet, soft mornings, and some really, really phenomenal sex. This should make her happy. This should put her over the fucking moon, and she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why it doesn’t.

The prima ballerina comes back out as the Black Swan, just as poised and precise as her counterpart, but she’s a great actress as well, because there is something undeniably different about her. Her arms move like rubber, like joints are just an afterthought, wrapping themselves around Percy’s neck and shoulders. She misdirects his attention, drawing his eyes to her wrists, her clavicle, the curve of a leg or the point of her toe. Seducing him. Tricking him.

Like Annabeth.

Because try as she might to run from it, Annabeth isn’t who she says she is. She wants so desperately to be this fuck-the-rules, fight-the-power, punk rock princess that she took every part of her that didn’t fit that image and tried to rip it out of her, bloody and struggling. Her trust fund, her two (two!) Harvard degrees, her enriched childhood and her bright and shining future; she took it all out back and shot it, and prayed that would be the end of it. She’s a phony, just like that goddamn Black Swan. Percy is in love with a phony.

Her sweet, wonderful, devastatingly kind and handsome Percy--she tricked him and made him fall in love with a mishmash of archetypes and aesthetics, distracting him with nose piercings and ripped t-shirts and ugly, deafening noise.

She’s not surprised that she’s crying when the curtain falls. She’d never known that Siegfried and Odette both died at the end.

When the cast reunites for curtain call, Percy is given a standing ovation, and Annabeth enthusiastically joins in, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing her makeup.

She doesn’t wait for him at the stage door, but sits on the steps of the theater, plucking at her sleeves, aching for a drink and wishing she had had the presence of mind to wear something a little nicer. Percy finds her there almost an hour after the show ended. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

In the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlamps, she can’t read his face--but she can read exhaustion, in every part of his body. “I was waiting for you by the stage door.”

Something in her stomach goes cold. “I… wasn’t sure if I was allowed,” she offers, weakly.

He smiles, a light in the dark. “Of course you’re allowed,” he says, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

She knows what will happen next. She’ll take his hand, and they’ll walk to the subway together, fingers intertwined. They’ll get on the 1 train headed north, and Percy will let her rest her head against him, tilting his head back against the window, eyes closed, almost asleep. The doorman will nod at them as they walk up to Nico’s apartment, barely batting an eye at his sweats and her ripped jeans, the two of them sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of impeccably dressed rich New Yorkers. Nico will wave at them distractedly from his office, gulping down his sixth coffee of the night, and they’ll tiptoe into his room, falling asleep in each other’s arms with little more than a good night kiss.

Which, of course, is exactly what does end up happening.

Almost.

Annabeth crawls on top of him in his bed, kissing him soft and senseless. She doesn’t know where he’s getting this energy from, but she is not complaining as he slips up inside of her, the two of them rocking each other gently to orgasm, their foreheads pressed together. Shuddering as he comes, he captures her mouth in another kiss, pouring every ounce of love he has in him into her.

A waste, honestly.

But as far as goodbye sex, it’s pretty damn great.

She needs to end this, before either of them get hurt. It’s the least of what he deserves, after all. To put yourself out there, to offer yourself up like that, that might be the bravest thing Annabeth’s ever heard of, and surely, Annabeth can find the courage to do what needs to be done.

#whomp whomp!!#ballet au #pjo fic #my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth

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btsmakesmehappy · 4 years

Text

Palate Cleanser | 2

Genre: Agent au, friends with benefit (sort of), Stranger to lover, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Agent!Taehyung x Baker!reader

Word Count: 7,7k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: oral sex (M/F receiving), penetrative sex, protective sex, crying after sex

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 completed

Summary: Taehyung needs something to take his mind off his broken heart. His best friend, Jimin, suggests that he should meet another woman and the first woman he met was you. Would you help him even though you have your own problem, that you hate men?

a/n: Thankyou for @detectivebts for beta-read this!! Thankyou for staying sane after reading this bad-grammar story of mine. you’re my savior <3

Series Masterlist: The Company

You are awakened by the sound of your blaring alarm. Your head hurts so bad. You look at the table in front of you to find that there are two bottles of wine, not one. Why did you drink that much? Your neck is throbbing with pain because you fell asleep on the couch. You sit carefully and pick your phone on the floor to turn the alarm off, your eyes widening as you scroll through your messages.

01.24 am Y/N: Hi! I am y/n. Thank you for giving me your number. I am interested in your service. But first, I must ask you. How much is your pay? And do you accept any kinky requests? Because I have some, y’know. Kkk

You yell a silent scream. What the fuck did I send? You hold the message bubble to find an ‘unsend’ option, but there is none. That’s the beauty of messaging when you hit the send button, you can’t unsend it. You curse yourself silently. You scroll to the bottom, hoping Taehyung didn’t reply to you.

01.29 am Taehyung: I’m sorry, what?

01.30 am Y/n: you know... Are you a dom or sub? Kkk I am fine either way though.

01.31 am Y/n: but really. How much? I still have an installment on my coffee machine, so can you give me a discount?

01.31 am Y/n: you are so handsome. Plz?

You let your phone drop to the ground and you bang your head on the table. Jesus, what should I do now? You don’t even bother to look at the following messages. You feel as if you could die of embarrassment right now. Maybe you should just ignore the fact that you messaged him, pretend that it didn’t happen. Is it even possible to do damage control? You pick your phone again and hesitantly scroll through the messages.

01.34 am Taehyung: I don’t understand what you mean.

01.34 am Taehyung: but I am not a hooker

01.35 am Taehyung: also a bad idea for having an installment on a coffee machine.

Oh my God, I literally just told him that he is a prostitute. You bite your nails anxiously. You just lost your –maybe- a loyal customer from your bakery. Stupid drunk bitch.

You couldn’t work at all. You look at the door every time the bell rings, hoping it is the man with that curly hair. You sighed every time it wasn’t him.

Hani also notices that something is wrong with you. She has never seen you this agitated since high school when you waited for your mother to come home after you failed a class. And from that point on, she knows you are waiting for something or maybe someone. “Who are you waiting for?”

You jerk your head towards her and chuckled nervously. “What do you mean?”

“You have looked at the door almost 50 times already.” Then the bell rings, and you look at the door. “51 times.”

You fiddle the hem of your shirt. “Just someone.”

Her eyes twinkled in excitement. She marches towards you. “Who is this particular someone?” She smirks. “Is that handsome guy, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “How could you know?”

She puts her hands in front of her mouth. “Oh my God, finally! You like a guy!” She hugs you tightly. “I am so happy for you.”

You force-release her. “No, it’s not like that.”

She frowns her brows, thinking. “So why?”

“It’s just... I did something bad. And I think I need to apologize to him.” Your head drops.

Hani doesn’t ask anymore. She knows that you won’t explain anything further until you want to. There’s no point in forcing you to spill the beans. She smiles motherly. “Just apologize to him then.”

“Ho- How?” you bite your nails.

“Just find him, you dummy. You know where he works, right?”

You remember the card on your nightstand. “I think it is called ‘The Company’. But I don’t know where it is.”

Hani’s eyes widen. “What? He works in the Company? Wow. That’s so cool.”

You tilt your head. “You know where it is?”

“Of course I know! It is the big building around the corner, 2-3 blocks from here.” She points to the direction of the building. “I don’t know what that company does but it is always full of good looking people whenever I walk past it. Maybe it’s a modeling agency?”

“Would you mind if I go there for a bit?” You plead. “But should I? Won’t I be bothering him?”

“You’ll be fine! Just go!” She pats your shoulder. “And besides, you worked alone yesterday, and I have been feeling so guilty about it, so just think about it as a break too. Jackson is coming so I won’t be alone, don’t worry.”

You then walk to the locker and change to your usual clothes quickly. Before you walk to the door, you pick up some bread and muffins, putting them into a paper bag, not wanting to apologize without a peace offering. “I will go for a bit then.” You then stare at Hani. “And please, don’t have sex in the kitchen. It’s just unsanitary.”

You can see blush forming on her cheeks. She let out a dry laugh. “Fair enough. Just go already!”

You walk to the building with an anxious heart. Hani is right, it is not that far from your bakery. You can even see it in the distance, it is hard to miss, hundreds of glass windows towering above the other buildings. The security in the building is no joke too. You need to go through a security check before going inside. But you need an appointment before you go through the security. And It is just stupid of you to just walk to someone’s office without making an appointment, especially in this sophisticated of a building.

You pace restlessly in front of the building, maybe I should just call him? but what if he’s busy? Last night you accused him of being a prostitute and now you disturb him at work? What a nice person you are. Just when you decide to turn around and go back to your bakery, someone calls your name.

“Y/N?”

You turn your head to the source of the sound. And there is the person you want to avoid and see at the same time, standing in front of you. Destiny is funny sometimes. He wears a light blue shirt and gray pants, with a jacket thrown over his arm. He eyes you curiously, and then he walks towards you.

“Hello. Nice to see you again.” You nod politely, avoiding his gaze.

He smiles as he drags you to the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

You bite your lower lip harshly. Damn it! I haven’t thought about what I should say to him! You just look at your feet and gulp. “About last night..”

Taehyung hides his smile, “Oh about how you don’t care if I am a sub or a dom?”

You put your hand in front of his mouth quickly, before he says anything else. His lips attach to your palm and you can feel his hot breath against your skin, making your heart beats faster. “I-I was drunk, okay? I- I just want to apologize for last night.” You take your hand off his mouth and drop it to your side. You still can feel how soft his lips were on your hand. You then hold out the paper bag to him. “This is a gift.”

He takes the paper bag from you. “Oh, thanks. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all had that night at some points in our lives.” He chuckles. As he looks at you, he can’t help but notice how you won’t meet his eyes, how you fiddle with your shirt nervously. You look weird, weirdly cute. He can’t keep his eyes away from you.

Just before you reply to him, another man comes towards you two. “Taehyung-ah. Who are you talking to?” He stops when he looks at you, eyeing you curiously, taking in your figure. “So, who is the pretty lady?” He smiles. You look at him carefully, He too is an attractive man. What is this company exactly? He then puts his arms casually around Taehyung’s shoulders.

“Oh sorry Hyung, just my friend.” Taehyung replies. “This is Y/N. And Y/N, this is Hoseok.”

Hoseok reaches his hand out. And just like yesterday and every other day, you hesitate. You wonder if you could just run away from him, but it will be too impolite of you. Hell, you are here to apologize for last night, you don’t need another reason to apologize. You look at his hand, waiting for you, and finally, you decide to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.” You say softly.

“Hi! It is nice to meet you.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with his big smile and the cute sound coming from his mouth, it is just so bright, like a ray of warm sunshine on an autumn day. You have never met such a shining person in your life. “Well, I want to get to know you, but I am afraid I have to go. I will wait in the car.” Hoseok pats Taehyung’s shoulder and waves to you. He walks to the black SUV parked in front of the building.

Taehyung nods to him while he still hides his laughter. He can feel how tense you are when you meet Hoseok. He just feels you are too cute, and at the same time, he is relieved that you are tense and nervous with every man, not only him. Also, the fact that you came to see him and talked to him, he has a weird feeling inside his chest. “Well, I should go. Thanks for the bread, I was starving.” He smiles. He leans to you and whispers to your ear. “I am not kidding, you know, about yesterday.” He winks. Taehyung the pats your head softly. “Please text me after you arrived safely at the bakery, okay?”

You can feel his warm breath on your ear and it makes you shudder. And his deep voice? It just makes your heart race. He smirks as he walks away from you. He suddenly turns around to you, “Y/N!” he yells. “Please bring the red bean paste bread next time! It was delicious!” He waves casually and gets into the car.

You’re left stunned on the sidewalk as the car pulls away. Taehyung is a unique guy, that’s for sure. How else can you explain his antics and his out-of-the-blue talking and not to mention his friendliness. You have never met a guy like him. You hate all men, but somehow you can’t hate this one. He seems to be a proper and a genuinely nice guy.

As your heart races rapidly and your hands go clammy, you turn around and walk back to your bakery, mulling over what to text him, a smile spreading across your face as your pace quickens.

Taehyung takes a piece of bread from the paper bag and eats it right away in the car. He forgot to have breakfast, and basically, you were like an angel sent from heaven for him just now. An angel with a bag full of food.

Hoseok drives the car and sometimes looks at Taehyung beside him. Taehyung looks more cheerful though, and it makes Hoseok relieved. “So, who is the girl?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrow and looks at him weirdly. “Are you okay, hyung? Did you forget that you actually just met her?” his mouth is still full of bread, trying to chew in between.

“I know it’s Y/N, dumbass. Where did you meet her?”

He swallows. “I met her in the bakery a few blocks from our office a couple of times.”

“Wow, isn’t it just fate? Like a movie? You met the girl coincidentally two times, no, three times!” Hoseok’s face lit up. He is always known to be a hopeless romantic like Jimin. But unfortunately for him, he has not met the love of his life yet. So somehow, poking into someone else’s love life is one of his hobbies.

“Not exactly.” He opens another bread. “She works there.”

Hoseok pouts. “Why are you ruining my fantasy? Then why did she go to our building then?”

“To meet me.”

“Oh my god! Does she love you? Was that why she looked for you?” Hoseok’s eyes twinkle in excitement.

“No. Please stop imagining things!” Taehyung chuckles. “She just wanted to apologize.”

He knits his eyebrow. “For what?”

Taehyung opens his third bread. His phone vibrates then, and when Taehyung opened it, it’s from thebreadgirl. It’s how he saves your name in his phone. He smiles. “It’s a secret.” He then types on the keys for a bit and puts it back into his pocket, a smile plastered to his face.

Hoseok presses his lips together, hiding his smile. He has known Taehyung for almost 5 years. He knows when Taehyung fell in love with that girl, how sad he was when she broke his heart. Hoseok knows all of that. But now it’s different. He has never seen Taehyung like this. And somehow he knows, Taehyung won’t be needing to go to the strip clubs anymore.

Taehyung yawns for the millionth time that afternoon. He thought that the job would be fun. But it is the opposite of that. It is boring. He can’t do anything. He can’t go anywhere. He is just in the car watching the target, who is nowhere to be seen in front of his office. He is glad that you gave him a bunch of bread. At least, they won’t starve during this stake-out.

“Hyung, how long do we wait for him?” Taehyung asks.

Hoseok chews the bread from you. “Probably a couple of hours. Oh, wait. There he is!”

Taehyung turns his head to the building. He can see a tall man holding his bag walking from the building. Park Chanyeol. He lives in the same neighborhood as Ji Seok. Last seen with him at a work party, a couple of days before Ji Seok went to Hawaii. Ji Seok has gone silent in the interrogation room, refusing to expose other plans or members. He is a damn good criminal.

Taehyung only heard from the other members how the interrogation went. Namjoon went first and as calm as Namjoon usually was, he almost threw his fists with Ji Seok. Almost, as he was stopped by Hoseok and Jin, who rushed to the interrogation room. Namjoon was then not allowed to enter the room because he was too emotional. Well, his girl almost got killed by Ji Seok, who wouldn’t be mad? Thus, Hoseok and Jin handled the interrogation. But they couldn’t find out any more clues about Black. Why does Ji Seok suddenly need money after all these years? It could only mean one thing, they’re preparing something. Then after many hours of investigating, Yoongi stumbled on something. The 3 suspects.

Chanyeol walks at the perfect time, the road full of people making it less likely he’ll notice he’s being followed. Taehyung puts his hat and gets out of the car. He walks towards Chanyeol quickly. Chanyeol is still busy using his phone, scrolling while walking. Taehyug catches up quickly, then, pretending to trip, he knocks the phone from his hand. As he picks it up, he quickly slips a tracker on the phone and hands it back to Chanyeol. He bows while apologizing profusely before turning tail and making his way back to the car.

“How is it?” Taehyung asks through his comm when he’s halfway back to the car.

Hoseok reports. “We got it. Let’s go back for now.”

Taehyung opens the car and jumps in, removing his hat. “So, what should we do now?”

“Well, you should check his schedule first, see if there’s anything suspicious. I am gonna follow him for a bit. You called me if you find anything, okay?”

Taehyung grumbles, “You do know, that it’d be easier to just kidnap him, right?”

Hoseok chuckles. “I know. But now, since our company has been noticed, we should be more subtle. You know how agents have to sometimes follow their target for several years before getting enough evidence?” he sighs. “Well, we might have to do that.”

Taehyung’s jaw drops. “What? Several years?” He whines. “I can’t handle this boring job!”

Hoseok pats his shoulder, “I don’t like this as much as you do.” He hands him a phone. “Here is Chanyeol's duplicate phone. I’ve just downloaded it. From now on, will we work carefully okay? You go back to the Company, and investigate it.”

Taehyung pouts as he gets out of the car. Hoseok then drives away, leaving Taehyung alone in the crowded road.

You walk to your apartment, with your phone on your hand. You scroll and look at the message you sent.

10.57 am Y/N: I arrived safely.

10.57 am Y/N: I still don’t understand why you asked me to do this when my bakery is just a few minutes away.

10.59 am Taehyung: good then

11.00 am Taehyung: never underestimate criminals, muffin.

11.01 am Taehyung: you can’t die. Who will pay for your coffee machine then? :(

11.03 am Y/N: pls stop. u jerk.

11.03 am Y/N: And why are you calling me muffin?

11.15 am Taehyung: your muffin was really good.

11.15 am Taehyung: thankyou. I will come back soon.

You feel a heat rushing to your face. It is weird for you, how a simple sentence can make your heart racing. You are positive that Taehyung is a playboy with a sweet mouth, whom you should stay away from as he’s surely only trouble, and yet you want to get closer to him. You want to know him better. You were attracted to him.

Maybe that’s why you dated Youngjae. You are always attracted to the wrong man. A man who cheated on you afterward.

You are envious of Hani. She chose a nice man who is now her boyfriend –soon to be fiance (as Jackson told you). She always chooses wisely. God only knows, maybe it is a gift.

You open your apartment’s door, kicking your shoes. You throw your jacket and purse on the couch. You look at the table, the wine bottles and glass have been neglected when you had the mental breakdown this morning. You take them and put them in the kitchen. You wash the glass quickly and hang it on the rack and you put the bottle beside your trash can. You begin to strip in front of your bathroom. You want to take a bath tonight. Your body is tired and you really hope that a hot bath can help you with it.

It has been a while since you took a bath. You have been so busy that you could only afford a shower. A bath is like a luxury to you. You light some candles and put bath salt in your bath. You put your phone in a waterproof bag to watch a movie on Netflix. After checking the temperature, you step into the bath. As the warmth envelopes you in, you feel relaxed for a bit.

Why does Taehyung want to help you in the first place? Is that just his trick to get a woman in his bed? Does he see you as an easy woman? Does he walk around the city finding insecure women and trick them to sleep with him? But he seems nice. Or all of the bad guys look like that? You thought Youngjae was a good man too before.

You sigh. It has been almost 5 years already, you have never been with a man since your ex. Why? Do you still love Youngjae? Is that why you can’t move on? Maybe you still have a little bit of feelings for him, he was your first love. And first loves never die, right?

Maybe Hani is right. Maybe you need it. Maybe you need to fuck it out of your system. It can’t hurt to use him right? And you basically know that he is a playboy, so you won’t catch feelings for him, right? Think of it as a one-night-stand. It’s just for sex, you think.

As you’re thinking of different approaches to ask Taehyung in a not slutty way, your phone chimes. You look at your phone and rise quickly from the bath, too quickly that it makes you feel dizzy. You wrap yourself in a towel and get out of the bath quickly.

Taehyung has already looked into Chanyeol’s phone for about ten times. He couldn’t find anything suspicious. He has already forwarded his schedule to Hoseok and Jin. And when Taehyung thinks that his work now is boring, Chanyeol’s work seems fun. Basically, he is paid by how much he eats. It’s like a fantastic job. Tonight, however, he only works at home, which means Taehyung and Hoseok will take turns staking out his place.

Taehyung stretches his body, he hates this kind of work. He was trained as a field agent, he specialized in firearms. He is good at it, hell, he is possibly the best shooter in the company. But he never wants to use his ability in a mission. He always refuses the mission that involves killing people, never once has he brought guns to the mission. He was once sent to war on the border as an aid when he was a recruit and he hated it. He hates the sound of the bullets going through flesh. He hates the smell of gunpowder. He hates blood seeping through the clothes.

The company and many agents love and envy his ability, and yet, he hates it. If he could choose, he wants the ability like Yoongi who can hack almost everything or Namjoon who was born a genius. And yet God gives him power. An ability to kill people.

It’s not that he can refuse the mission. He CAN’T. But when Taehyung threatened to resign from the company if they forced him to kill again, and it just freaked the Company out. So, he gets what he wants, and The Company can keep an eye on him, instead of letting him work somewhere else and becoming a danger to The Company or even the country. Yes, Taehyung is that good.

Maybe this mission is also a punishment for him and other members. They worked in Hawaii without the Higher-ups knowing, so now they are all stuck in this boring job. He sighs and looks around his office. Some are still working and some have already gone home, it’s almost 9 pm after all.

His stomach growls, he hasn’t eaten anything since noon, and it was only bread. He wants to eat something. He looks at his phone, wondering who he should ask to go to dinner with him. His only friends are the members and they are all still working. Should I go to eat by myself? He taps his phone on his thigh. He hates eating alone.

His eyes suddenly lit up. He then swipes his phone and clicks on the messages. He hits the send button and a smile plastered to his face, proudly. I think it is a good idea.

08.57 pm to Y/N: do you want to have dinner with me?

08.57 pm to Y/N: I will wait for you at the diner near your bakery.

08.58 pm to Y/N: see you soon. ;)

Wait. Why did I think about her?

You were shocked to receive those messages. You thought for a moment at first, but walked to your closet to choose your clothes. It was just dinner. And the invitation just came when you tried to figure out what to have for dinner, it is just a perfect coincidence. I did this because I have to eat.

You wear hoodies and jeans from the morning. You look at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin is dull, with some acne scars on your cheeks. Maybe I need some skincare. You shake your head quickly, it is not the time for that. You just grab your almost-dried cushion and pat it quickly on your face. You draw your eyebrows and wear your lip tint. You wanted to use your mascara, but unfortunately for you, it is all dried out. Goodness, you really need to go shopping. You have never paid any attention to yourself, you were busy studying and building a business. And all the make-up you use usually, were all gifts from your friends and family.

You look at your reflection one more time, to make sure you look okay. You grab your purse and your keys and run outside. Your hair is still wet after the bath and the chilly wind makes you shudder even more as you walk. You regret not bringing your jacket with you, yet you don’t want to go back to your apartment if that means making Taehyung wait any longer.

Wait. Why don’t I want to make him wait? You stop for a bit.

You shake your head. It is not for him, it is for your stomach. You are starving. You need food quickly.

You walk faster to the diner. Luckily for you, it is the middle of the week so the diner is not so crowded. You open the door and look around to find a brunette man. The said man waves to you and gestures you to come to him.

“Hey! Thank you for coming.” He smiles. He still wears the same clothes as the morning, so it seems he is from work. “Took you some time, btw.”

You sit on the chair in front of him. You sigh.”You know it’s impolite to ask a woman for an impromptu dinner like this, you know?”

He chuckles as he hands you the menu, while he calls the waiter. He then orders a bulgogi set and an ice tea, which looks good to you so you order the same. As the waiter walks away, he studies you. “Why is your hair wet?”

“I was taking a bath.” You roll your eyes. “So what do you want to talk about?”

He tilts his head. “Nothing.”

You frown your eyebrows. “Then why did you ask me to have dinner with you then?”

“It’s lonely to eat alone.”

“Then ask your friends to eat with you!” you are flabbergasted. He is a weird guy, really. You are just barely an acquaintance with him and yet he asked you to eat with him.

He shrugs, “all my friends are still working, so I asked you.” He beams his smile to you. “And I am sure, you have nothing to do, so, yeah.”

You pout, “I might have something to do!”

Taehyung leans his body towards you. His smile is mischievous. “Really? Like what?”

You did have a plan. You were planning to cook some ramen and eat it while watching Netflix. You think about it for a second, and it is just kind of pathetic. And he doesn’t have to know that stupid plan. “Fine. Fair enough.”

“But, I don’t really think you would show up, you know? I thought you hate men.”

“I do. But I thought you have something to say, so here I am.” You answer as you look at the windows.

It is a lie. Taehyung is amused by how easy it is to read you. You are like an open book. And the way you struggle to lie to save your face, it is just cute. And it makes him want to know you more. “Well, let’s just eat then.”

The food served in front of you. You quickly dig in as you both were starving. The conversations just flow right away. He asks what is your favorite food, how is your childhood. And you ask him how he treats his hair because it looks so soft, what is his favorite singer.

You should hate spending time with men. You felt so awkward when you talked to him yesterday. But apparently, you are now comfortable with him. it is like catching up with an old friend.

Your plate has already emptied when he calls for the waiter. He asks for tiramisu and you ask for an apple pie. And with you two sharing two pieces of desserts, it makes you more comfortable with him. His laughter and his easygoingness are contagious and makes you open up.

“So, your ex-boyfriend cheated on you?” He asks as he cuts your pie and brings it to his mouth.

You then steal a piece from his Tiramisu. “Uh-huh.” You reply dryly. “Why? Do I look pitiful?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

You glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just a pity because of that one terrible man you threw your love life into a dumpster.” He swallows and grabs his tea. “Not all men like that.”

“Yeah, right. You are a man, of course, you will stand up for them.” You snort. “Give me some examples, then.”

“Me.”

You laugh aloud. “Dude, you asked a woman you’ve just met to sleep with you. It is kinda trashy.”

“Well, in my defense, it’s called palate cleanser.” He pouts. “I am just trying to be a nice guy and help you out!”

You nod your head and roll your eyes. “Right. And remind me once again, what does palate cleanser mean?”

He sighs. “Fine.” He trails his eyes to the windows, you can see a hint of blush on his cheeks. “It’s just... I thought we could help each other, you know. My friend also said that I need it too.”

Suddenly the door opened and his eyes widened. You look at him in confusion and turn your head to look at the couple who just entered the diner. The man is handsome with a tall figure. His hair combed neatly. The man smiles sweetly to the woman beside him, and you can see the dimple poking into his cheek. The woman is beautiful. She wears a work suit and heels, and you can feel the intimidating aura coming from her. They look at the menu and talk to the waiter. The woman suddenly turns her head and looks at your direction and smiles. She then drags the man to walk with her.

“Tae!” She yells happily as she walks to your table. “Oh hello!” She looks at you kindly. You smile and nod politely.

“Hi! Why are you two so late?” Taehyung asks. “Did Namjoon lose his keys again?”

Namjoon puts his hands on his hips. “That is unnecessary information! I was in the practice room, that’s why.”

The girl snorts. “Yeah, as you lost your key and locked yourself in.” The waiter then calls them to tell them that their food is ready. “Alright, we are going to go home now. Enjoy your night!” She then walks to the cashier to pick their food, and waves to you and Taehyung.

“Your colleague, I assume?” You ask while stirring your tea. But when you don’t get an answer, you raise your head. Taehyung looks out the window in the direction of the departing couple. You look at the way the man put his arm on her waist, it looks like they're in love. You study Taehyung’s face, he is emotionless. He looks like he is just staring at the road, but his eyes show sadness. “Taehyung?”

He jerks his head to you. “Ah yeah, I am sorry I spaced out.” He gives you a half-smile. “Let me walk you home.” He then asks the waiter for the bill. You both arguing about the bill, but he ended up paying.

The walk to your apartment has never felt this long. No more random conversations between you two. Taehyung has been silent since he saw the couple. Just with one look at him, when he saw her, you know that he loves her. You know that he is hurting. You know that he hides it with his laughter and smile. You know that he loses his composure when he sees her.

You stop in front of your apartment. “This is my apartment. Thank you for dinner and taking me home.” You smile.

“No problem. Thank you to you too.” He waves and turns around, walking away from you.

You can see his broad back. He looks tough, but he looks in pain.

You know because you were him before.

You’ve brokenhearted too.

But before, you had Hani and your family. And Taehyung? He does have his friends, but why do you feel that he is lonely? Why do you want to help him?

“Taehyung!!” you yelled. You then march towards him.

He turns his body to you, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What?”

When you arrive in front of him, you look at his eyes directly. “Let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?” he asks back.

“Palate cleanser.”

Just before he says anything, you pull his shirt towards you as you crash your lips to his. He stiffens before relaxing and returning the kiss. He puts his hand behind your neck and puts the other one on your back, pulling you closer. You put your arms around his neck. At the moment, you enjoy how soft his lips on yours. His lips move languidly, molding to your lips. You can feel how your heart is racing inside your chest, how heat is forming inside your core. Taehyung opens your lips and pushes his tongue. He explores your mouth with his warm tongue, making you a moaning mess.

You intentionally grind your hips on his, making him moans in your mouth. You can feel his hardness underneath his pants, and it makes you stiff. He smirks in between the kisses as he grinds his hip back in motion. It makes you go crazy. You can feel the wetness seeping into your underwear. You release yourself from the kiss. “Would you like to come to my place?”

Taehyung’s pupils dilate and he gulps. He then picks his abandoned jacket and your purse from the road and drags you to your apartment. You chuckle as you walk faster in front of him. You pick your keys inside your purse and open the door.

As you enter your room, you feel nervous. What should I do now? You gulp as you throw your purse to the couch. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Is that the way you talk dirty?” He walks towards you and throws his jacket on the couch. “If it is, it could use some work, muffin.” He inches you back until you feel the back of your knees hit the couch.

“How about wine?” You feel the heat rushing to your face. You look to the side and when you try to walk away from him he grabs your wrist.

He chuckles. “Where is the brave girl who kissed me just a minute ago?” He cups your face and kisses you softly. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Y/N.” He says as he strokes your cheeks.

You look at his brown eyes. They’re mesmerizing. They’re full of lust but also filled with sadness. You kiss his lips quickly. “I want to. I am just nervous.”

Taehyung then sits on the couch and pulls you onto his lap. “Let’s do this slowly then.” Just as his words leave his lips, his pink lips attach to yours again. This kiss feels more passionate but slow. He strokes your thigh in a circular motion and moves to cup your asses. He kneads the cheeks in motion while his tongue dances with yours. He bites your lower lip a little and makes you moan.

His hand moves slowly to touch your skin under your hoodie. His fingers cold, causing goosebumps to spread up your spine. The way he soothes your back makes your body melt and you feel your core is dripping. You subconsciously roll your wet core to his. You can feel his hardness poking again, and it makes you squirm.

Taehyung removes his lips from yours and moves to your bare neck. Licking your neck slowly, you tremble against his touch. You thank God silently, you took a proper bath before. He kisses your neck and then starts sucking lightly, leaving blooming marks on your neck. You don’t care if your neck is full of his marks. The only thing you think about is just him, touching you.

He then pulls your hoodie up and tosses it to the floor, revealing you in your pink bra. His hands then move to your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He squeezes your breasts while his lips trail across your chest, littering it with marks. Your breath hitches as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, lavishing it slowly, alternating between licks and nips. He can feel you tremble with each flick of his tongue, knowing that it’s driving you crazy.

His fingers then move to your jeans, making quick work of the buttons. He sneaks his hand into your underwear, his cold fingers brushing against your heat, eliciting a moan to slip from your lips.

“Fuck. You’re dripping already, baby.” He touches your core slowly, making you squirm in the process. Your moans are like a drug to him and when he feels how sensitive you are for him when he nudges your clit, he thinks he is the luckiest man in the world. “These pants have got to go.”

He stands you up and pulls your jeans down with your underwear, leaving you fully naked in front of him. Suddenly a rush of embarrassment fills you, subconsciously you use your hand to cover your breasts and your core.

He then pulls you back to his lap. “You are beautiful.” He kisses your wrist and your inner arm while keeping his eye contacts on you. “I am so lucky.”

Taehyung then slips his finger again to your core. He is running to your slit and then circling your clit. He pinches it slightly, which makes you jolt. “Tae...” he then gathers your wetness with his fingers and pushes his finger into your core. The sensation of his finger inside you is enough to make you cry, and moaning his name.

“Oh my God, you are so tight.” He thrusts his finger into you in motion and he uses his thumb to circling your clit. You almost fall from the lack of support, so you put your arms across his neck and put your forehead on his shoulder. “I need to stretch you out first, muffin.”

He kisses your neck and your shoulder, enjoying how you squirm against him. He can feel how your walls clench around his fingers, watch as your toes begin to curl, your breathing becoming uneven. He knows you are close.

“Taehyung, I am gonna..” you barely can talk, bothered by a rush of pleasure forming inside you.

“Let it go, baby. Let me hear you.” His pace quickens as he plays with your clit and finally it comes. Your vision goes black as you arch your back in delight.

You stay in his embrace and control your breathing. His fingers have already moved from your core to his lips as he licks your arousal from his fingers. “You taste incredible.” Taehyung moves his hands to your back to support your limp and shaking body. You have finally gathered your senses after your orgasm. You kiss his lips slowly and then lower yourself to your knees, positioning yourself between his muscular thighs.

You impatiently unbutton his pants and palm his hardened cock through the clothing. As you stroke slowly, he hisses. He feels hot under your touch and your mouth starts to water. You then pull his cock free, wrapping your hand around his length. As you start to slowly stroke him, you can’t help but to lean forward and lick the precum from his tip. His cock twitching at the sensation.

You work his cock slowly, licking it base to tip, before taking him into your mouth. You glance up to find his head falling back against the coach as he moans your name. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you begin bobbing up and down his length. You hollow your cheeks suddenly and it makes Taehyung move his hand to hold your hair and move his cock deeper to your throat until you choke. You can feel your eyes begin watering, but the thing is, you feel satisfied.

You like how he sounds under your touch. You feel powerful. And when you swallow, you know he barely holds his load. You feel as his cock begins to pulsate and he pulls his cock from your mouth with a sudden motion. Taehyung looks at your fucked up face, your swollen lips, and your flushed face. “Not yet.” Taehyung then swipes the saliva from your lips and pulls you up. He kisses you slowly enjoying the taste of himself on your lips.

He then drags you to your messy bed and slowly pushes your back onto the bed. He takes his shirt off his head and pulls his pants down, kicking it in the process, which makes you giggle. Now naked, you take the opportunity to take in his toned body, golden skin. You can’t help but think that he’s a piece of art.

Taehyung then lowers his body to kiss you. His lips trail again from your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your chest, every inch of skin he can get his lips on. “So pretty.” His lips then slowly move downwards, and finally, he places his head in between your thighs. He kisses your inner thigh softly, marking it with the color of the galaxy. His lips then attached to your hardened bud. He nibbles your clit slowly and lavishes it with his tongue. You can feel another coil of desire begin to form.

He swipes his hot tongue to your slit, devouring your core like a man starved. Your body trembles with the over-sensitivity after your first orgasm. And when he thrusts his tongue to your core, you almost lose it. “Tae, I can’t...”

“You can do it, baby. Come for me.” He licks your sweet arousal carefully, making you moan his name. “Fuck, you taste so good.” He then flicks his tongue on your clit and that’s it. You feel your coil snap as your head falls back and your vision blurs. He licks and kisses your core to collect your arousal as you grind to his face to ride your orgasm.

“Taehyung, I want you.”

He chuckles. He then takes a wrapper from his pants and rips it carefully. He then rolls it on his cock. He gathers your wetness and then aligns his tip in front of your entrance. “Are you sure?” You nod weakly.

“I need you to say it, muffin.”

“I-I am sure. Please, I need you now.” You beg quietly.

You take a deep breath as he pushes himself slowly to you. You whimper at the painful stretch. “You are so tight. Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head weakly. “I just need time.” He leans in to kiss your lips, with his cock still buried inside you. You can taste yourself and his saltiness in your mouth. and it is intoxicating. You feel completed. You have never felt this full before. You miss this. He kisses you passionately, you can feel how his emotions played him. You can feel his desperation and loneliness in his touches.

The pain has subdued and you experimentally clench your walls. Taehyung hisses and grips your thighs painfully. “Stop it, or I am not going to last.” He begins to pump himself into you rhythmically. Hitting the spot when you can see stars. The only thing you can feel now is a pleasure and how he somehow completes you. You know that he feels it too, and you hope this pleasure can help him to forget. He pulls your thighs upwards and holds your ass.

His thrusts become sloppy as his cock begins pulsing. His orgasm is approaching, you can feel it. You can feel the knot forming too and your walls throb, you are on the verge of cumming again. Taehyung then moves one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it quickly. And once again your orgasm snaps. with you triggering Taehyung’s release, your walls milking him for everything he’s worth. Taehyung follows you afterward. He then falls on you trying to catch his breath.

You feel how Taehyung is softening inside and he pulls out of you, which makes you whine because of the sudden emptiness. He removes the condom filled with his seed and ties it into a knot and throws it on the trash can. He let his body fall on your side.

You look at his tired face, his forehead beaded with sweat, and how his lips are opened slightly, gasping for breaths. His eyes glistening with tears, filled with his emotion. You then gather your courage to cup his cheek, smoothing the skin. “Are you alright now? How do you feel?”

He looks at you softly. Your heart aches. He then swipes your fallen tears on your cheek with his thumb. “How do you feel?” He whispers. His hand stays on your face, giving you the warmth that you’ve always wanted.

There is only silence formed between you two. As you two are facing each other, you both still can see the pain inside your eyes. You both are fully naked, but you feel more exposed than before. You feel vulnerable and weak. And the longer you look into each other’s eyes, you both know that you two will be alright. You have to be alright.

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georgescatcafe · 4 years

Text

but i keep my hands (’til you come into the water)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: barista george, fluff, humor, flirting, friendship, communication, getting together word count: 22,064 summary: George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

Or, the one where George is a barista, Dream is Sapnap's best friend, and Sapnap just feels a lot.

+ao3

;;

The first attempt is a disaster. Sapnap should’ve expected it, the object of his desires completely different from who he usually chases after. For one thing, it’s a guy, for another, he’s got his arms crossed, fingers digging harshly into his arms, brows furrowed, lips downturned in a frown. Usually, when someone catches Sapnap’s interest, they paint a more pleasant picture.

Yeah. Not this one.

“I’m working,” he snaps. “I get it, but I really don’t like being flirted with at work.”

“You’re so upfront,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his lips, though he’s certain his ears are turning red as more people turn to look at him where he leans against the counter, probably about to be completely eviscerated by this barista. “I like that.”

He’s not eviscerated. His fate is even worse.

He gets ignored.

“Julia,” George calls, placing down the drink handed to him.

Sapnap steps out of the way as a petite girl with blonde hair takes the drink from the other, delicate fingers curling around the cup, golden-tipped fingers contrasting against the pink of her drink. Sapnap finds himself fighting against the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, remembering something about Dream saying that’s an obvious display of insecurity. And Sapnap isn’t insecure.

He just doesn’t like the way George smiled at the girl as she walked away.

“It’s called customer service, idiot,” Dream tells him later, the two of them having agreed to meet at the library so Dream doesn’t have to smell the coffee that wafts a good way out past the entrance of the Starbucks Sapnap frequents. Sapnap rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip of his vanilla frap, not fully convinced.

“It’s just,” he finally says, drink set carefully down on the table, “it’s like… why did he smile at her like that, when you could barely hear her ‘thank you,’ yet he doesn’t even look at me?”

“Maybe because he told you to leave him alone and you didn’t?” Dream suggests, taking Sapnap’s cup and drawing a smiley face in the condensation. He presents it to the other, only for Sapnap to groan and rub it away. He’s not exactly in the mood for cutesy shit. He says as much.

Dream looks unimpressed. “I’m just saying,” he draws another smiley on the opposite side of the cup, “try respecting his boundaries next time.”

“But I only know him as the barista from Starbucks,” Sapnap whines. “How am I supposed to flirt with him if I only see him when he’s working?”

“Break,” Dream replies, easy.

“Ah.”

Dream sets down Sapnap’s cup, the new smiley still there. “Yeah,” he says, “ah.”

;;

Dream had also advised him to maybe read the barista’s nametag and find out his name, so that’s the first thing Sapnap does when he walks in on Wednesday, eyes going directly to the little plaque on the barista’s apron. GEORGE. Sapnap bites his lip. He can work with that.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you be interested in trying any of our—oh.” Sapnap looks up from the nametag to see George’s eyes on him, face devoid of any emotion other than perhaps vague disappointment.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

George’s lips press together, and it’s not a frown, so Sapnap takes it as a smile.

“One venti vanilla frap please.”

“Name?”

“Come on,” Sapnap says. “You so remember my name.”

George hums, brows furrowing as he enters the order into the computer. “You’re right. Something like… ‘nuisance’?”

Sapnap frowns.

“My bad,” George says. “It was ‘annoyance,’ wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha,” Sapnap replies, crossing his arms. “It’s—”

“Sapnap, I know.” George taps the screen and Sapnap tries not to flush at the sight of his wrists. It’s not like they were hidden. It’s not like George is some Victorian lady. Jeez. Embarrassing. And then—

“‘I know’?” he quotes. “So you remembered my name.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” George replies, “since you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he tries, “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were.”

“I’m just determined.”

“Determined?” George repeats, unamused. Sapnap nods. George gives him a long look up and down (and it’s not checking him out, not even close, but Sapnap pretends that’s the case, straightening up and hoping the lighting makes him look good) before sighing and motioning to the person next in line.

Sapnap is ready to continue speaking, but then he remembers the main point of Dream’s advice and instead just rolls his eyes, finding an empty table near the window.

Better? a text from Dream reads.

Duh, his name is George

George

Yes, George , Sapnap glances up at the barista, who’s now taking the order of a guy definitely taller than Sapnap, and judging by the size of his arms, probably stronger too, and when he walks away, George’s eyes definitely follow him, lips curled into a smile not like the one he wore when the blondie left, but rather… oh, come on. Dude what the hell

What

Sapnap doesn’t take a picture, but he does try his best to describe the other customer to Dream. George was like..drooling over him what the hell!

I doubt it

When Sapnap looks up again, George is most definitely not wiping any drool away from his mouth, instead wearing a polite smile as he takes an older woman’s order. It’s as if Sapnap made up the smile he wore watching that guy walk away.

Ok, he concedes, maybe not drooling, but he definitely like… I dont think Im his type :(

As if u ever gave up that easily, Dream’s reply is fast, and Sapnap smiles as the thinking dots appear. You’re fine, just be yourself and respect his boundaries. I know you, you’re a great guy Sap you’ve got this

He’s right. About… everything. Sapnap slips his phone into his pocket right before he hears his name called. It’s not George calling out the drinks today, whoever was missing the other day now returned to their normal shift. Sapnap accepts the drink with an easy thank you and is about to walk away before he’s struck with an idea.

“Um, excuse me,” he calls to the woman who’s already started to head back to the espresso machine. She turns around and makes her way back over to the counter anyway, brows raised, anticipating Sapnap’s question.

Sapnap leans in some, unsure if he wants George to hear what he’s about to ask or not.

“Um, George,” he starts, and, oh, that’s not a good look. He presses on anyway. “When is… do you know his breaktime?”

“I do,” the woman replies, and Sapnap is ready to be pleasantly surprised, the amount of information this employee is ready to give more than expected, but then she continues, “but legally I’m not allowed to share it with you, and even if I could, I don’t think I would.”

Sapnap tries his best to swallow his disappointment. He’s not sure how he ended up so dumb with hope anyway. “Right,” he says. “Sorry for asking.”

“I suggest not doing it again,” she replies easily, but before she walks away she gives him a soft smile, “but it’s fine.”

Sapnap returns her smile, even as he feels an itch at the base of his neck, only growing as heat spreads under his skin. He’s quick to make his way back to the table, fingers wrapped tight around his frap.

He tries his best not to watch George, appearing as disinterested as he can, up until the other switches places with another employee, now going around cleaning up tables. Sapnap’s been people watching, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at George, but that fails when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, a napkin falling to the floor, just in reach of Sapnap’s foot. Stretching the tiniest bit, Sapnap catches the napkin under his shoe, pulling it over to him so he can pick it up and throw it away himself. He almost makes a comment to George about his cleaning skills, always one to tease, no matter who it is he’s teasing, but then the napkin flops over the back of his hand and he sees ink on paper.

Mon-Th 8am-4pm break @ 10 lunch @ 12 break @ 2

Sapnap has no idea when George wrote that, if it was while he was still taking orders or if he wrote it while Sapnap kept his eyes out the window, but when he looks up, he finds the barista already watching him, now back behind the till, cheeks pink even as he holds Sapnap’s gaze. Sapnap smiles, waving the napkin in an I got it! gesture. George doesn’t smile back, just looks down at the register, then up at the customer that walks in a second later.

That’s fine. Sapnap shoves the napkin into his pocket. This is progress.

When he’s about to leave, hand pressed against the glass door, he turns. George is looking down, but Sapnap can see the tips of his ears, the slope of his nose. Pink. Bright, pretty pink.

He smiles. Definitely progress.

;;

“So you want me to flirt with you, then?” Sapnap asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the table George sits at, the barista looking at something on his phone.

“No, not really,” George replies, not looking up from the device.

Sapnap sits in the seat across from him. “But I can flirt with you now, right?” he asks. “Since you’re not technically working right now?”

“I’m being paid for this,” George says. “It’s ten minutes. Money is going into my bank account, right now.” He finally looks up at the other, eyes wide in emphasis. “That means I’m working.”

“Boo,” Sapnap immediately snaps. “You just don’t want to admit that you want me.”

George makes a face.

“Want me flirting with you,” Sapnap clarifies, though he wouldn’t mind George wanting him. (He even hopes for that, honestly.) “You want me to flirt with you.”

“Quit making assumptions, you weirdo.”

Sapnap laughs. “You sound like my friend.”

“Oh, really?” George asks. “Maybe we’d get along then.”

“Me and you?”

George gives him a dry look. “No, you idiot, me and your friend.”

“Well, you’re not going to meet him,” Sapnap replies.

“What, is he better looking than you?” George asks. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hey!” Sapnap cries indignantly. “What does that mean?” George merely raises a brow. “And no , he’s not. I just… he doesn’t like coffee.”

“And that means he can’t come inside?” George asks.

“He gets, like, really nauseous if he smells it,” Sapnap explains “After I come here, I usually end up meeting him at, like, the library or something.”

“Oh, are you guys students?” At this, George sits up, leaning forward slightly over the table. Sapnap wonders if he’d be allowed to copy the other’s posture, or if it’d make George lean away. He decides not to risk it.

“I am,” he says. “My friend isn’t.”

“H’m,” George says.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “H’m.”

He smiles at the smile that spreads on George’s lips, even as the other looks away, tucking his chin into his collar in an attempt to hide it further. “Stop it,” George says, muffled as he speaks into fabric. “Stop that.”

“I’m just looking at you,” Sapnap replies.

George glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I know,” he says. “Stop it.”

Though he doesn’t want to, he does. “So are you a student too?” he asks.

“Alum,” he replies. “Graduated last year.”

“Ooh,” Sapnap says. “Teach me all that you know.”

“You don’t even know what I majored in,” George replies. “What if we took, like, completely different classes?”

“Unimportant,” Sapnap says. “I was just trying to find an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I—,” George is cut off by a persistent beeping. The two look down at the phone on the table. “Oh,” George turns off the timer. “Back to work.”

“I thought you said you’re still technically working?” Sapnap asks, knowing the grin he’s wearing is infuriating.

George’s eyes narrow as he looks at Sapnap before he shakes his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one who talked to me for ten minutes,” Sapnap replies easily.

George doesn’t reply, instead just shaking his head once more, heading back to the counter, where he grabs his apron and goes to tie it around his (oh God, small) waist. Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, before he gets up from his chair. The place is relatively empty for ten in the morning. “It’s compsci,” he says as George finally comes to stand at the register. “I’m a compsci major.” George looks up at him from across the room, startled. “In case you were, you know, actually wondering.” He can feel his confidence drain out of him the longer the other continues to stare blankly at him. “Um, yeah.” He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and he’s about to walk out when George replies:

“Wait, Sapnap,” he turns around to see George watching him, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “if you actually do want help ever, uh, I can do that. For you.”

Sapnap wants to reply, wants to say thank you or maybe even you, me, library tomorrow at six?, but instead he stays silent, and the moment passes, George inserting something into the computer, Sapnap clearly dismissed.

;;

“I fucked up,” he says immediately to Dream, sinking into his seat at the small diner on the corner of Mulberry and 11th, convenient for its equidistance from his dorm and Dream’s apartment.

“You really could’ve gotten a date, and instead you just stood there,” Dream says, a vague echo of Sapnap’s retelling.

“You’re making fun of me right now,” Sapnap whines.

“No,” Dream says. Sapnap looks up at him from between his fingers. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Sapnap groans, pushing his face further into his hands.

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Dream tries. “Come on, man, no moping at Sally’s. You’re literally eating cheesecake pancakes right now. You can’t mope.”

“I’m not moping,” Sapnap immediately replies. “I’m mourning.” He pulls his hands away from his face, instead pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Mourning the relationship that never was.”

“Is this what you’re like when you actually have to work for a relationship?” Dream asks. He steals a strawberry off of Sapnap’s plate. “I don’t know if I like this dude.”

“George?” Sapnap asks.

“No,” Dream says, stealing another strawberry, “you.”

“Considering you’re still here, I think you like him well enough.” Sapnap lifts a brow as Dream goes to sneak another strawberry, blocking the other’s fork with his own. Metal clinks against metal. Dream accepts defeat, going back to his waffles.

“We all have our ups and downs,” Dream finally declares. “That was a bad day—”

“But it was going so well!”

“Okay, then things got thrown off with the alarm—”

“Timer.”

“—going off,” Dream eats another bite of waffles, “so basically: don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Sapnap says, just to be contradictory.

Dream knows what he’s doing, so instead of replying, he just finishes off the first of his waffles. Sapnap glares down at his own meal before spearing a piece of pancake.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Dream says.

Shit.

;;

He resigns himself to waiting until Monday to see George again, only to find himself stopping short when walking to his dorm from the library, spotting a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that line the commons.

“George?” he calls, before he can decide if interacting outside of the four walls of the Starbucks they’re so used to is a good idea.

George looks up, slipping his phone in his pocket, eyes obviously wide even when hidden behind a pair of—

“Are those clout goggles?” Sapnap asks, biting back a laugh.

George crosses his arms, stretching his legs out (though they don’t reach particularly far, Sapnap affectionately notes) and leaning back on the bench. “Maybe,” he replies.

Sapnap stops holding back his laughter, letting it spill out freely as George’s face goes through a range of expressions, from a frown to a smile to a grimace to something of a cross between all three.

“If you’re done,” he says when Sapnap’s laughter has turned more into sporadic giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap immediately replies, though it’s clear the words mean nothing. He’s certain if he could see George’s eyes clearly through his lenses, the other would be rolling them. “It’s cute,” he almost says, but something stops him, the words turning into, “It’s fine. They suit you.”

One of George’s hands comes up to adjust the glasses, the twist of his lips finally turning into a smile. “Really?” he asks, hand pulling away from the frames to instead rest his fingers lightly against the plastic, but Sapnap isn’t paying attention to the glasses at all, eyes instead locked on the delicate bones of George’s wrist.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. George’s hand falls back to his lap. “So,” Sapnap says, now that the immediate distraction is gone, coming back into himself, “what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you were wanting to see my face again.”

“Um.” George looks away, at a tree that Sapnap knows is behind him, at the ground, the railing of the bench, at an acorn that lay a few feet away. Sapnap tries not to let the hope grow in him, even though the silence only continues to stretch on.

The hope finally breaks loose, and he asks it: “Did you really come here just to see me?”

“Not… entirely,” George replies. Sapnap gives him a disbelieving look, and George is quick to defend himself. “No, really!” he says. “I live in the area, and this… it’s nice, isn’t it?” He motions to the commons. “It’s, like, cool outside now, and the sun isn’t, like, really hot or anything. It’s nice.”

“But you said ‘not entirely,’” Sapnap says, “so that means I was part of the reason?”

“I didn’t expect to see you,” George sighs. “But if—if—I did see you, I wouldn’t be opposed to, like, hanging out or, um, something.”

“Okay,” Sapnap says easily, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Now that he’s beside George, he can see his eyes better underneath his glasses, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares. “So what do you want to do?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug.

Sapnap sighs. They sit in a tense silence, Sapnap itching to say something, George… Sapnap isn’t sure what he’s thinking. Although they’re sitting side by side, sometimes their shoes would brush against each other, edge of sole against edge of sole, and George would jump like he’s been shocked, bringing Sapnap’s eyes back to him every time. Finally, Sapnap gives another sigh and says, “I spy… with my little eye… something… blue.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees George tense. And then.

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Sapnap answers, popping the ‘p’. “Try again.”

George hums quietly, head moving the tiniest bit as he surveys the area. “There,” he says, pointing, “those flowers.”

“Got it,” Sapnap smiles, “your turn.”

George looks around, a single finger tapping on his jean-clad thigh. Sapnap refuses to follow the movement. “I spy,” George begins, “with my little eye something that starts with P.”

Sapnap looks around, searching for whatever George could have chosen. Then a bark rings through the air, and his head snaps around to look at the dog darting across the commons to get to a girl kneeled in the grass. “That puppy,” Sapnap replies, smug.

“Yup.” George nods, glancing over at Sapnap as he picks out something.

“I spy with my little eye,” he starts, angling himself more towards George, “something green.”

George falters. “Grass?” he tries, a slight smile on his face.

Sapnap laughs. “No,” and then out of a rush of courage he’s not sure from where, he reaches up to pluck the leaf out of George’s hair, holding it up between the two of them.

George scoffs. “That’s not even fair. I can’t see that. And was that in my hair this entire time?”

Sapnap shakes his head, flicking it away from them, the leaf dancing idly in the air before twirling to the ground. “Nah. It must have happened sometime last round.”

“Ah.” George finally takes off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head. “Well, still not fair. I can’t even see green.”

“What?” Sapnap doesn’t mean for it to come out as a laugh, but it does. “What do you mean you can’t see green?”

“I’m colorblind, asshole,” George doesn’t shove him, but his hand does lift and make a weak motion towards him. “When you started with a color, I figured this wouldn’t last long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sapnap asks, hand coming down on the bench next to him so he can lean towards George.

“You said blue; it was fine,” George replies. “Besides,” he gives a shrug, “I just said the letter the word starts with. If I did it every time, maybe you would too.”

“Weird,” Sapnap says, the word coming out on a whistle.

“Not as weird as you,” George easily fires back.

Sapnap rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, settling back on the bench once more. They sit in a companionable silence for another second before he remembers.

“Hey, uh,” George looks over at him, and wow, have his eyes always been that deep, wide and round and shining like honey in the bright sun, “my friend and I, the one that doesn’t like coffee, we’re meeting up for dinner. Would you… maybe want to come? Just so you can meet him. You know. We hang out a lot. And stuff.”

George seems to consider it before he nods. “If your friend is fine with it, why not?”

Sapnap sends Dream a quick text to ask, though he knows the other will say yes. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” he asks, even though he and Dream were just going to meet at, like, a McDonald’s.

“Not that I know of,” George replies.

“Awesome,” Sapnap says.

“Yup,” George agrees.

And… it’s awkward again.

“Got any other plans?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“Not really,” George says. “Fridays are usually pretty uneventful.”

“No one asking you to any parties?”

At that, George gives a quiet laugh. “Not really a partying type of person.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks, eyes wide. “I never would’ve guessed.”

George looks over at him, brows high, before he realizes it was sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”

“I’m not the one who agreed to spend more time with me.”

George doesn’t reply, but when Sapnap glances at him, he’s got a small smile on his lips, cheeks pink and not, Sapnap is pretty sure, because of the sun.

;;

Sapnap thinks he should be jealous. He’s, like, really sure he’s supposed to be jealous.

Dream and George meet and hit it off immediately, falling into an easy banter that Sapnap watches like a tennis match, a constant smile on George’s face, laughter spilling out past his lips like a waterfall.

They get along like a house on fire or whatever the phrase is, and Sapnap is left to breathe in the smoke. Yet he’s not choking and he’s not jealous.

Because every time George says something that sends Dream into a fit of laughter, he’ll glance over at Sapnap, eyes bright and smile wide, as if to check that he has Sapnap’s attention too, that he has Sapnap laughing right along with them.

Sapnap wonders if Dream notices, if he catches these moments between them, but if he does, he never comments on it, instead continuing to talk to George like they’ve known each other for thirty years and not thirty minutes.

By the time they finish their food, George and Dream have exchanged numbers and are planning another time to hang out.

“It sucks about the coffee thing,” George says to Dream, head tilted back so they can make eye contact. It’s endearing, but Sapnap does feel a slight pain in his chest when he realizes their one inch difference in height means he doesn’t get the same experience.

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, “honestly it’s just, like, really inconvenient because I don’t like coffee in the first place, but you’re telling me I can’t even be near it?” George gives a sympathetic smile, and Dream backtracks. “If you ever want, I’m sure I can stomach it for, like, a minute or two, but—”

“It’s fine,” George cuts him off. “I can meet you wherever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks, looking apologetic.

“It’s fine,” George repeats. “So next Tuesday? When I get off work?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Same here.” George gives him a smile. “It’ll be fun kicking your ass.”

“Oh, right, like you’re going to win,” Dream scoffs. “Right.”

“You’ll see,” George crosses his arms, “just wait.”

“Whatever.” Dream gives a laugh before shouldering his backpack. “Alright,” he says to both George and Sapnap this time. “I’m going to head out. Patches is probably wondering why she hasn’t been fed yet.”

George laughs as Sapnap lifts his hand in an easy wave.

Dream waves back then heads out, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

George turns to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap says, “what’d you think?”

“He’s nice,” George replies, and then, “thanks for, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course, dude,” Sapnap says because what else do you call the guy you like, other than dude? He blinks. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

George gives a hesitant smile. “Maybe.”

“You’re not, like, intruding on anything,” Sapnap immediately goes to reassure. “We do this, like, all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I didn’t think I was.” George collects his trash, “but thanks for putting the idea in my head.”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” Sapnap follows his lead as they throw out the wrappers from the burgers. “Anyway,” he opens the door for George, who ducks his head in silent thanks, before following after him, “what about me?”

“What about you?” George asks.

“Your number,” Sapnap answers, “I want it.”

“You think I give it out just like that?” George’s brows are raised in disbelief as Sapnap scoffs.

“You did it for Dream, and he didn’t even ask!”

“Okay, and?”

“You’re so mean to me, George,” Sapnap whines, crossing his arms. “See if I ever talk to you again.”

“Oh because that’s just the worst possible outcome for me,” George laughs.

“What the hell?” Sapnap uncrosses his arms to instead fling them out at his sides. “I thought we had fun today! We played I spy!”

“Yes,” George says, “because that is the exact definition of fun.”

“Well,” Sapnap crosses his arms again, “ I had fun. Sorry that you didn’t.”

In his performance, he had closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, his heart is quick to skip a beat upon seeing the soft smile on George’s face as he looks at him. His eyes are no longer turned to gold by the sun, but instead are dark like the coffee he serves, and Sapnap only finds himself looking away from them to instead drop his gaze to the other’s lips. They’re a soft pink, and they’re full, and Sapnap finds himself wondering what they’d feel like on his own.

“It’s,” and then a slew of numbers that Sapnap doesn’t catch. He finally meets George’s eyes again.

“What was it?” he asks, pulling out his phone. George rolls his eyes, giving a quiet laugh, before repeating his numbers as Sapnap rushes to add him to his contacts. When he’s done, he sends a quick text to George (Hiiii :D) to which George doesn’t answer but does make a show of blocking the number (then immediately unblocking it).

“Anyway,” Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, Dream’s advice be damned, and gives a slight whistle, “walk you home?”

George shifts his weight, readjusting his jacket, before nodding. “Alright.”

Sapnap smiles. George starts walking.

;;

George’s apartment is nice. Not too far from the Starbucks he works at (not too far from Sapnap’s dorm) and it’s in a quieter part of the city. The two of them stand in silence on the front step.

“So,” George says.

“So,” Sapnap agrees.

A second. Two seconds.

George makes a small noise that has Sapnap ready to ask if he’s alright when George’s hand suddenly smacks against his cheek. Sapnap immediately reaches up to cradle the reddening skin. “Did you just slap me?” He thinks the slight crack in his voice is warranted.

George’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “No. Oh my God. I wasn’t… it was a,” and then he makes a motion, like he’s pressing a kiss to his fingers, then lifting them as if he were to press that kiss to—

“You couldn’t have just kissed me like a normal person?” Sapnap is trying not to sound accusatory or angry because he’s not, but what the hell.

“It’s—I didn’t—look, fuck, I’m sorry.” George wraps his fingers around Sapnap’s arm to tug his hand away from his cheek. “Here, look, shit, I—,” and then he’s got his lips on Sapnap’s cheek and any pain Sapnap’s feeling is gone. George’s lips are warm against his skin, and when he pulls away, his eyes are still shut, fluttering open only once he’s back within his own space. Sapnap stares at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” George says.

“It was kind of cute,” Sapnap tries, heart pounding in his chest. “But only kind of.”

“Whatever,” George says, “I’ll see you Monday, Sapnap.”

“Will you kiss me then too?” Sapnap asks.

George shakes his head, shoving past Sapnap to get to his front door, pulling out his key and unlocking it. “Goodnight, Sapnap,” he says.

“Goodnight, George,” Sapnap replies.

George turns around, looking at him from right inside the door. Sapnap stares back. George opens his mouth, as if he plans to say something, but only ends up closing it again, shaking his head and turning to go further inside, shutting the door behind him.

Sapnap stands there on the front step for another second before shaking his head, the ghost of a response to whatever George left unsaid, deciding to take the long way home.

;;

Monday comes quickly, and after class Sapnap finds himself making his way to Starbucks, just in time for George’s lunch break. He wonders if thirty minutes is enough for him to take George somewhere, nothing fancy, just something quick, but then he’s inside and George is sitting at a table on the far wall, lunchbox open in front of him.

“Boo,” Sapnap says, sliding into the seat across from him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” George says.

“I can see that.”

He watches as George peels away layers of cling wrap around his sandwich.

“So how was class?” George asks, right before he takes a bite.

“Ugh,” Sapnap crosses his arms and rests his head atop them, closing his eyes, “I don’t know why I do it sometimes.”

“What, go to school?” Based on what he hears, Sapnap assumes George has peeled away more cling wrap.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Deep down you enjoy it,” George says, “and it’s for your future.”

“You went to school,” Sapnap starts, “and now you work at Starbucks.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said on Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything Friday,” George says.

“You’re right,” Sapnap sits back up, “you didn’t say anything because you were too busy kissing me.”

“Yeah because a kiss on the cheek totally equals making out on the couch,” George snorts as he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right.”

Sapnap grins. “Duh.” When George just rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips, Sapnap is quick to steal one. “Anyway, we have a quiz Friday that I am not looking forward to.”

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to quizzes,” George slaps his hand away when it swoops in for another chip, “are you ready for it?”

“Define ‘ready,’” Sapnap replies. At George’s unimpressed look, Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, as ready as I can be.”

“That’s better than ‘not at all,’” George sighs. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Obviously.” Sapnap smiles when George allows him another chip. “So what about you? How’s your morning gone?”

“It’s gone,” George says. And then he pauses. “I got a girl’s number.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, because that’s all he can think to say.

“She, like, wrote it on the receipt, I guess when Sarah was talking to me, and when she left, she just… left it on the counter.” Sarah, as it turns out, is the woman who told Sapnap she’s not allowed to disclose George’s break times. Sapnap still feels prickles of irritation under his skin as George continues: “I threw it out.”

The prickles suddenly stop.

“You threw it out?”

George nods, nonchalant, popping another chip in his mouth and even offering the rest in the bag to Sapnap with a raised brow. Sapnap just shakes his head, ears still ringing from George’s words.

“Why?” he asks.

“Not interested,” George says, finishing off his chips. “Besides,” he says, getting up to toss the bag in the trash, “no flirting while I’m at work.” Sapnap hands him the cling wrap sitting on the table. George smiles as he grabs his lunchbox. “See you later, Sapnap.”

“What if I wanted to order something?” Sapnap calls as George gets himself situated behind the counter.

“You drink too much sugar,” George replies, putting on his customer service face as a middle-aged man walks in. “Welcome to Starbucks, would you…,” Sapnap lets the rest of the greeting fade into background noise as he watches George’s mouth move, his fingers dancing across the computer as the man places his order. After another second, he gives a stretch, then rises, giving George a smile and a wave as he heads out the door.

He comes back that afternoon only to be greeted by George’s furrowed brows and a cold drink shoved into his hands. “On the house,” George tells him as Sapnap stares down at the vanilla frap, the condensation that had gathered on the cup wetting his hands.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” George replies, pushing through the glass doors and holding one open for Sapnap. “So where to?”

Sapnap thinks. He hadn’t really thought of anything for them to do, mostly just wanting to see George again. Then he remembers neon lights and crummy carpet with space patterns on it, rockets and stars and moons. With the next step he takes, he moves the tiniest fraction closer to George. The backs of their hands brush together. Sapnap lets this happen a couple more times, and then—he takes George’s hand.

George just holds on tight.

Sapnap smiles. “I have somewhere.”

;;

They hold hands the entire way, and Sapnap tries not to let it get to him. George’s fingers are thinner than his, and not long after he had started to lead them in the direction of the arcade did George’s fingers slot their way between his. His palm is warm, pressed flat against Sapnap’s own, and every once in awhile Sapnap will say something that makes George laugh and his hand will come up as if to cover his mouth, the action aborted halfway to its destination when Sapnap’s arm goes taut, George letting their hands fall back between them. He still looks over at Sapnap though, eyes glittering, squinted, cheeks rosy.

It’s maybe the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen.

;;

Correction. George smiling (still, because George always looks nice smiling) colored by the neon lights is the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen. He’s almost tempted to take a picture of just George, just for him to have, him to cherish, but he knows George will hate it, George will watch him like a hawk over his shoulder as he deletes it, not letting up until he deletes it, and the effort isn’t worth it. Seeing George so displeased isn’t worth it.

So instead he crowds into George’s space, demanding a selfie, “to send to Dream! To make him jealous!”

Like that’s anywhere close to the truth. But he does send the selfie to Dream, who does reply with a >:(, and Sapnap laughs and shows George, who laughs then wanders over to the skee ball, and then that’s when Sapnap goes and changes the picture to his homescreen (because a lockscreen is too risky, because he knows George will definitely see it).

He lets George win at skee ball. And air hockey. And… this game isn’t even competitive, what the hell, but he lets George win at that too. (And okay, maybe sometimes George wins because he’s better, but it’s not like Sapnap would ever admit to that.)

When they leave, George is still giggly, fingers intertwined with Sapnap’s once again, but less passive, more with a purpose, more I’m holding your hand because I really want to hold your hand, because I like how your fingers feel between mine, because I like the way our skin touches, you’re here and so am I. It’s so deliberate, and Sapnap is dizzy from it.

They get dinner at a seedy, shitty pizza place, though the pizza is anything but, and then it’s back to Sapnap walking George home.

“You really don’t have to,” George says. “Your dorm is, like, right there,” he makes a general motion to the upcoming intersection.

“But I want to,” Sapnap says.

George sighs, but doesn’t say anything, even as they walk past the entrance of the university.

When they reach his apartment, Sapnap fakes nonchalance. “So,” he says, “are you going to make it a big deal?”

George crosses his arms.

Sapnap puts up his hands in front of him. “Just a question.” He smiles. “So are you?”

“You’re so annoying,” and then warm lips are on his cheek as fingers tangle into his shirt. “I hate you,” George says when he leans back. Sapnap looks down at where George still has a grip on his shirt, but when he meets George’s eyes again, the other doesn’t let go. Sapnap wants to take his face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips right then and there.

George’s gaze dropping down—to his lips, there’s no doubt about it, George is looking at his lips—is almost enough to make him do so.

But that would scare George away. He knows it would. So he leans back on his heels, smile on his lips. “Hate you too.” The soft lilt of his voice belies his words. He doesn’t mind.

George’s eyes flit back up to Sapnap’s. Sapnap’s smile widens. George drops his hand from Sapnap’s shirt. “Thank you for today,” George finally says. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Sapnap reaches out, taking George’s hand in his own, finding that he quite missed the other’s touch, even if it’d only been a few seconds. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “we will.”

They stand there in silence, Sapnap holding George’s hand. George clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, Sapnap.”

Sapnap gives the other’s hand a squeeze. “Goodnight, George.” He drops George’s hand, their fingers dragging together until they’re not.

When their fingers finally part, George takes a breath then turns to unlock his door and head inside. Right before he shuts the door, Sapnap is treated to the sight of an eye turned liquid gold from the streetlights, a rich, amber color that leaves Sapnap tasting coffee and honey. “Goodnight, George,” he says one last time, and then, the door shuts and it’s just Sapnap out in the cold. He gives a smile to the closed door, then turns and starts the walk to his dorm.

;;

Sapnap ends up with what feels like fifty new assignments on Tuesday, and he knows Dream and George are meeting up after George’s shift ends, so he decides to forgo his usual trip to Starbucks and instead heads back to his dorm after shooting George a quick Have fun with dream :) text.

When he reaches his room, his phone chimes in his pocket.

thanks, i’m gonna kick his ass

Sapnap huffs out a laugh before unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk then collapsing into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before replying to the text.

Of course u will <3

Immediately, he gets a text back, and he thinks more about that than what the text actually says (gross, don’t ever send me a <3 ever again).

Just to be antagonistic, Sapnap grins and sends: Good luck baby xoxo mwah mwah mwah <3

Another instant reply: you’re so disgusting. talk to you later sapnap

Sapnap’s grin stays as he sets his phone down and pulls out the assignment he’s decided to tackle first. Sure, George may be annoyed by every text he sends, but he’s still replying right away, still replying at all—he totally doesn’t mean it. George totally loves texting him, he’s sure of it. Sapnap gets out his laptop and goes to Blackboard as he thinks about George on Monday, the way he’d sometimes lean into Sapnap, the clean scent of his laundry detergent settling into Sapnap’s heart and the occasional press of his cheek against Sapnap’s leaving a permanent warmth under his skin.

He goes through his assignments in a daze, Java getting mixed with java and graphs getting interrupted by George. Only the sound of his phone going off—a call from Dream—breaks him out of it, little numbers and letters dancing behind his eyes as he blinks and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“George and I are getting something to eat, do you want us to bring anything to your dorm?”

“You don’t have to,” Sapnap replies, even as his stomach rumbles and roars at him to eat.

“You’re right,” Dream agrees, “but I’m not doing this for myself.”

Sapnap blinks. “George,” he says, and Dream gives a quiet hum. “Where’re you guys getting food from?”

“Taco Bell, maybe,” Dream replies. “There’s one on the way to your dorm.”

“Across the street, yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “Then can I get a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with two soft chicken tacos, a steak quesadilla, cinnamon twists, and a Baja Blast?”

Dream repeats it back to him with an, “alright,” at the end, and Sapnap tells him he’ll pay him back when they get to his dorm. “Sounds good,” Dream replies. “See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Sapnap agrees, then the call disconnects, and Sapnap is left in a messy as hell room with George on his way. “Shit,” Sapnap says, looking at the weeks-old laundry spilling out of his wardrobe and the assortment of half-drunk Gatorades and water bottles littering the shelf above his desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He grabs his trash can from where it sits at the foot of the bed, lifting it to the edge of the shelf and just pushing all the bottles into it, some of them falling past the edge and hitting the floor. He groans as he bends over to grab them and put them into the trash properly. When that’s done, he knows he’s not going to be able to run a full two and some loads of laundry before Dream and George get to his dorm, so he deems the laundry a lost cause and shoves it as best he can back into the wardrobe, his hamper buried under weeks of unwashed clothes. Oh well. At least his room doesn’t smell.

Sapnap freezes. Does it?

He shakes his head. No. It doesn’t. It’s fine. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. And George is a guy; he probably lived in the dorms, he knows the horrors of a bunch of dudes crowded in one building. It’s fine.

A knock on the door makes him look up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bedsheets, wondering if remaking his bed (he had put it together haphazardly that morning, more for a sense of productivity than any need for cleanliness, the sheets wrinkled and pillows slouched awkwardly) would be worth it. He supposes the interruption is answer enough. Leaving the bed as is, he unlocks the door, swinging it open to see George standing there holding three paper bags, two drinks under his left arm.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

“Hi,” George replies, angling himself to allow Sapnap to take a bag from him. “These drinks are really cold.”

“Here,” Sapnap grabs the green one, immediately lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Almost as refreshing as seeing you.”

George stares at him before making his way into Sapnap’s room, setting the two bags down then taking out a napkin and setting his drink on it. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right,” Sapnap agrees, making George’s eyes widen as he looks over at him. “I’m hilarious.”

George’s parted lips fall into an unamused line. He scoffs, turning back to the bags and pulling out various Taco Bell items. “Here,” he says, handing Sapnap his quesadilla and cinnamon twists, “they threw some of our things in the same bag. Everything in the one you’re holding is yours, though.”

“Nice.” Sapnap sets down the bag to take the food, immediately getting started on his quesadilla.

“And Dream was going to come, but then he got a call from someone and said he had to go. He might’ve taken the hot sauce…?” He looks over at Sapnap with a raised brow, who glances into his bag.

“Nah. There’s sauce in here.”

“Cool,” George replies. “But yeah, it’s… it’s just us now, I guess.”

Sapnap glances over at him. George is staring down into his bag, fingers crumpling the paper. When George turns to look at him, Sapnap doesn’t turn away. George holds his gaze for a second before his ears turn a warm pink, and he ducks his head, reaching into his bag to pull out a Quesarito.

“Uh,” Sapnap says, and then reaches across George to grab his wallet from the desk and pull out a ten. “For the food.” He holds it out to George.

George takes it, their fingers brushing and Sapnap’s pulse sent racing.

“Thanks,” George says, “but Dream paid.”

Sapnap plucks the cash from George’s fingers. “Never mind then.”

George laughs, “rude,” before unwrapping his Quesarito and taking a bite. “So how are your classes going?”

Sapnap groans making a motion to the stack of assignments half-covered by an empty Taco Bell bag. “Terribly. I’m doing… fine. It’s just… so much work.”

“The worst,” George agrees, taking another bite. “Studying for the quiz?”

“What are you, my dad?” Sapnap asks, but at an unimpressed look from George, he sighs and leans back against his bed. “Yes.”

“Good,” George says, and then he says, “I kicked Dream’s ass by the way.”

“Like I said you would,” Sapnap replies, and when George looks at him from under dark lashes, he thinks about how easy it would be to lean forward and press a kiss to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose, Sapnap hesitates for the shortest second before his gaze drops lower—it’d be so easy to lean forward and press a kiss to George’s lips. When he meets George’s eyes again, they’re dark, and in the faint light, Sapnap can see his pupils blown wide. He swallows. George watches the movement.

Sapnap takes a breath. “I—”

And then George is on him, their mouths pressed hot against each other. Sapnap moves back, resting on the bed, as he tilts his head, angles it so that he can kiss George properly. It’s once he does this, once he brings a hand up to hold the back of George’s head, that George pulls away with a small breath. “This was a—”

“If you say ‘bad idea,’ you owe me ten bucks,” Sapnap says before he can finish.

George, flushed, glances up at him and huffs a small laugh. “Lapse in better judgement, then.”

“No take-backs,” Sapnap says, his left hand, which had settled on the curve of George’s hip, sliding up to hold the nape of George’s neck. “Okay?”

George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels it warm against his lips, a phantom of their kiss. “Okay.”

Sapnap smiles. “Good. So what’s wrong?” He wouldn’t normally talk it out, the other party throwing out their worries and Sapnap immediately going back in for the kill, lips on theirs and them preferably in the bed by now, but it’s okay if it’s George—if this takes longer than it normally would, that’s okay, and—George gives him a hesitant smile back—if the end result is more than a tumble in the sheets, that’s even better. (Not that that was ever the desired result, but for a time, Sapnap could’ve been content with just that. Not anymore, though. Not now.)

“I’ve never dated anyone,” George admits, “not seriously.”

“Like, you’re some type of player or…?” Sapnap lifts a brow as George sends him a look. He drops his hand to pull himself back and up onto his bed then pats the space next to him in a silent offering to George. George looks from his hand to his face then back a couple times before sighing and climbing onto the bed next to him. When George places his hands down at his side, his and Sapnap’s pinkies brush together. George takes another breath.

“I mean, I dated a girl in high school, if you could call it that,” George says. “More like I knew she had a crush on me and was doing what I was supposed to.” He makes a face and Sapnap wonders if it would be bad of him to curl their pinkies together, to take even more than that. Good or bad, he leaves his hands as they are, letting George continue. “It didn’t mean anything, and it was a high school relationship. Those are hardly legitimate.” He gives a slight eye roll. “So yeah, this is… kind of new to me.”

“That’s okay,” Sapnap says immediately. “I’ve never had a real relationship either.”

It’s not the consolation Sapnap had planned for it to be. Sapnap wouldn’t say he sleeps around, or slept around, he’s not some kind of manwhore or anything, but the fact still stands that he’s definitely had more than one partner and most of those relationships did reach at least third base before he even hit the ball. That, in contrast to George’s high school hand-holding, is definitely a strike against him.

Sapnap shakes his head, dissipating the baseball metaphors beginning to sprawl in his mind. “But it’s something I want with you,” he amends. “I really like you, George. Like… I really like you.” He’s not sure if the second thing is what does it for George, but either way, he still takes Sapnap’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and resting their connected hands in his lap. Sapnap leans over just enough to have their shoulders touching.

“You really do annoy me sometimes, you know?” George asks, thumb rubbing smooth circles into Sapnap’s skin. “It’s like you go out of your way to do it, too. You can’t just… dial it back a bit. It’s really all or nothing with you.”

“I’m not known for doing things in halves, yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

George glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Except for relationships,” he says. His voice is rough.

The smile that had started to grow on Sapnap’s face drops. “Yeah. Except for those.”

“I really like you too,” George finally admits, “and if you’re willing to try,” he squeezes Sapnap’s hand then looks over and meets his eyes, “I am too.”

;;

The soft atmosphere had broken not long after that, Sapnap’s stomach rumbling and George bursting into lilted giggles, nerves and hesitance coloring his every move after that. But when Sapnap offered to walk him home, George agreed, and they held hands the entire way, and when they reached George’s door, George scrunched his face up then grabbed Sapnap by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

“For someone who’s never been in an actual relationship,” Sapnap had said, “your kisses are pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” George had said and then slammed the door in Sapnap’s face.

Sapnap didn’t mind, though; nah, he grinned the entire way home.

;;

The rest of the week flies by in a vanilla frap-flavored, headache-filled haze. George is certain the headaches are from all the sugar Sapnap intakes, but Sapnap is certain it’s from all the homework his professors assign and studying George pushes him to do.

“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t in the picture,” George tells him as he wipes down the table next to Sapnap’s. Sapnap has a lab report open on his laptop, his notes spread all out on the table before him. Half of the keyboard is covered by the paper, rendered unusable.

Sapnap doesn’t have a good argument for that, but he also wants to keep George nearby. He leans back in his chair. “I’d have a headache with no remedy,” he says.

“Remedy, huh?” George asks, standing straight and arching a brow.

“Seeing your face is the only medicine I need,” Sapnap says, and then he throws in a, “pretty boy,” just because he wants to see what it’ll make George do.

Apparently, it makes his expression fall off his face and heat rise in its place, cheeks and ears glowing a bright pink even as he stutters out irritated (and empty) phrases, eventually giving the table a final furious once-over then disappearing into the kitchen to get rid of the dirtied rag. So basically, the words did the opposite of what he wanted, but in the end, Sapnap finds himself unable to consider it anything other than a win, mind now running through other opportunities to pull out the pet names.

George appears only when he’s about to leave, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek that’s really more an accidental brushing of lips against skin, but it’s enough for Sapnap, and he leaves the other with a smile and a promise to tell him how the quiz goes at dinner.

;;

Come dinner, Sapnap is halfway through explaining how he’s pretty sure he failed the quiz when George sits up in his seat and asks, “Is this a date?”

Sapnap freezes, mouth open and mid-word. “Do you want it to be a date?”

George huffs. “This isn’t really the wining and dining I expected, but—”

“I’m nineteen,” Sapnap tells him.

George sighs. “It was just an expression,” he says. “And I was going to say it’s fine. Everything here leaves something to be desired, but it’s fine.”

“Everything?” Sapnap asks, eyes widening coyly as he looks at the other.

“Everything,” George confirms. “Especially my date.”

Sapnap exaggerates a sad face and George rolls his eyes, throwing a fry at him, but he’s got a smile on his face, so Sapnap drops the act and grins back. “You’re so cute,” he tells the other, and George immediately seems to grow smaller, shoulders curving inwards, face angled down, his smile facing the floor instead of Sapnap, who observes this all with a quiet gaze.

“Shut up,” George says, the words on the end of a laugh.

“It’s true,” Sapnap replies. “I love looking at you. Even when you look dumb.”

“Excuse you,” George immediately snaps, finally looking back at Sapnap, “I never look dumb.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, “you’re right. I meant when you look stupid.”

“What the hell?” George guffaws. “You’re actually so annoying. Shut up.”

“So you want me to shut up when I compliment you, and you want me to shut up when I insult you—what’s the truth?”

George looks at him, unimpressed. “The only conclusion is that I like you best when you say nothing at all.”

Sapnap scoffs. “Rude.”

“And yet.” George lifts a brow.

Sapnap gives a quiet exhale. “And yet,” he agrees.

;;

Dream stretches his legs out in front of him while Sapnap twists himself around to lean against Dream, back pressed against shoulder.

“How’s it going with George?” Dream asks, flicking through the channels on the TV, Sapnap watching the short frames he gets while taking nothing in.

“I think we’re a thing,” Sapnap replies, settling even further into Dream when he finally decides on a channel. It’s an old comedy from the 80’s, one Sapnap thinks his dad might’ve shown him when he was younger. Vaguely, he recalls falling asleep halfway through. He’ll try not to do that this time.

He feels Dream shift as he looks down at the younger. Sapnap can sense his eyes on the top of his head. “You think?” Dream asks, the words coming out slowly, as if he’s tasting every letter.

“We kissed,” Sapnap explains, “and we both talked about how we feel, and we went on a date, and he’s kissed me again since that first one. On the lips,” he adds hastily, just so Dream understands the severity of the situation.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Dream concludes.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Sapnap confirms.

Dream hums as a fanfare starts up in the movie. Sapnap takes a handful of popcorn from the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

“I think we’re taking it slow,” Sapnap continues. “Neither of us are good at relationships.”

“What do you mean?” Dream turns slightly, and Sapnap slips down his arm some. “You’re not good at relationships?”

“You know how it was,” Sapnap answers, “is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Sapnap shrugs, scooting back up against Dream as he does so. “I’d think so. Someone like George would think so.”

“Where does that leave me?” Dream asks.

Sapnap doesn’t answer, eyes back on the TV screen. Dream huffs, but doesn’t push for one either.

“It’s fine,” he finally says. “Whatever works best for you guys.”

Sapnap nods, and they don’t talk about George or Sapnap and George or relationships for the rest of the movie.

;;

This is new. Sapnap’s heart pounds heavy in his chest as George sits perched on his lap, hands flying across Sapnap’s keyboard as he types a command into the chatbox. Dream’s voice crackles through his speakers: “George! What the hell?”

“Oops,” George says, glancing back to share a conspiratorial look with Sapnap, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did,” Dream argues, his character finding George’s—who's really just using Sapnap’s character, but it’s whatever—and George running, even as Dream hits him over and over, beginning to take hearts. “You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

George leans back against Sapnap’s chest, letting Dream kill him. “Fine,” he sighs, “we can do it your way. Whatever.” Sapnap smiles at the way his accent colors his words. George sends him a curious glance; Sapnap noses at the edge of his hairline in answer. George makes a small noise before leaning forward to get back into the game. Sapnap shifts, adjusting George on his lap so he can have some circulation in his thighs again. It’s not that George is heavy, no, George is fairly light, but George is bony, and for all Sapnap likes him and would in fact like to slip his hand in the other’s back pocket as they walk together, that doesn’t change the reality of George having a bony ass and it pressing into Sapnap’s lap.

When he’s got him where he wants, Sapnap curves himself over George, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. George feels warm all over, and when Sapnap tilts his head to take in the other’s profile, he sees it as a soft pink. Though George can’t really afford a free hand when PvPing Dream, he still lifts a hand to shove Sapnap’s head away.

Sapnap huffs and hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder. And then he gets the most terrible (wonderful) idea and angles his head so his nose is pressed into George’s neck and he’s starting to run kisses across the skin there. George breathes out a titter and lifts his shoulder to try and push Sapnap away. Sapnap grins and starts to climb his lips up the slender column of George’s neck. George gives a full-on giggle at this. “Stop,” he says, hand coming up to shove at Sapnap again, the lapse giving Dream a chance to hit George with his axe. “Sapnap,” George says when his kisses turn a bit rougher.

“What are you guys—,” and then George gives another breathless laugh and Dream makes a disgusted noise. “Seriously?” he asks. “In the middle of my Minecraft PvP?”

“Sorry,” George gasps, shoving at Sapnap with an urgency now, brows knitting and lips losing their smile for a frown instead. Sapnap gives one final nip to George’s neck before relenting, letting George stand from his lap and glare down at him. It holds for another second before George turns back to the computer. “I’ll be back on in a bit, is that okay?”

Dream makes a noise of confirmation then ends the call. George turns back to Sapnap.

“Too far?” Sapnap asks.

George scrutinizes him, eyes narrowed, before he sits back down on Sapnap’s lap, this time angled towards him. When Sapnap puts his hands on his hips, George makes a face. Sapnap drops his hands. “I know I kissed you first,” George finally says, not quite meeting Sapnap’s eyes. “So I should be okay with all this.” He finally manages to make eye contact, holding it as he speaks. “But I’m not.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” Sapnap tells him, but at George’s look, he sucks in a breath. “You did.”

“I was—I didn’t seem like I meant it,” George says. “I know. And, um, I guess I didn’t. Not really, not at first, but—”

“I still should’ve.” Sapnap lifts a hand, looking from it to George’s eyes then back. George gives a nod, and Sapnap sets his hand on George’s side, fingers resting in the spaces between George’s ribs. He feels George’s chest expand and contract with every breath he takes.

“We could,” George ducks his head, “have a sign, or a word, or something, and if one of us does it, the other stops,” he meets Sapnap’s eyes again, “would that work?”

Sapnap’s brows raise, jaw dropping slightly. “George…,” he says, “did you just suggest we employ a safeword?”

George splutters. “No? I mean—I guess, but not like that! Just… yes or no?”

“Butterscotch,” Sapnap says.

“What?” George makes a face.

“When it’s too much,” Sapnap explains, “just say you want butterscotch.”

“It sounds like a euphemism.” The word drips distasteful from George’s tongue.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “But that’s what makes it good !” He slides his fingers from George’s side around to his back, watching George’s face all the while. When George doesn’t stop him—physically or with butterscotch—Sapnap brings his other arm around George, holding him. “People will think we’re going to fuck or something, but actually we’re doing the opposite!”

“That or they’ll think we’re sugar addicts,” George scoffs, making Sapnap laugh.

“One of those,” Sapnap agrees. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

George looks at him, disappointment clear on his features. Sapnap smiles. George’s facade breaks; he smiles back. “It’s dumb,” he says.

“You always look dumb,” Sapnap replies. “No one will think anything.”

George sighs. Sapnap feels the movement against his chest, beneath his fingertips. “Fine,” George finally concedes. “Butterscotch.”

Sapnap smiles back then leans forward till their noses touch and their breath intermingles as George inhales then says, “If there’s ever been a better time to say the opposite of butterscotch, it’d be now.” Sapnap kisses him. George’s eyes slip shut, hands coming up to tangle slender fingers into the ends of Sapnap’s hair, and returns the kiss.

Eventually, George calls Dream again and the two of them start up their game again, George back to his perch at the edge of Sapnap’s lap, and this time Sapnap doesn’t kiss him, but George lets him run his fingers up and down his sides, and Sapnap delights in the little shivers and shudders George does every time. George and Dream end the day on a tie, the last win one of Dream’s. George’s consolation is a kiss pressed to his temple, but then George says that’s not enough and decides Dream and Sapnap owe him dinner.

“Both of us?” Sapnap asks as Dream groans on the other line.

George nods.

“Why me?” Sapnap makes the best pleading face he can.

George is made of stone. “Friend of the enemy.”

“Boo,” Sapnap says, “hiss.”

“Hey!” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George glances over at it, unamused.

“I think we should try that one place, what was it called? It’s on Main and Delaware.”

Dream makes a noise. Sapnap thinks it might be one of fear. “If it’s the place I’m thinking… that’s really expensive.”

“But you can pay for it, can’t you, Dream?” George asks. “I know you can.”

Dream doesn’t reply. All three of them know he can.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you,” George continues. “Which is why Sapnap owes me dinner too.”

Sapnap is about to whine when his brain catches onto an idea and his eyes narrow. “Is this payback for the date?”

“H’m?” The tilt of George’s head is innocent in a way only the guise of innocence can be. Sapnap’s eyes squint even more, vision practically gone. “Of course not.”

Sapnap doesn’t believe him.

;;

Despite George’s teasing earlier that week, he ends up ordering the cheapest things on the menu, though Sapnap (feeling guilty about the date thing, oops) points out other, more expensive, things for George to try.

“Sapnap,” George finally says, “it’s fine. If it bothers you that much, we can split a dessert or something.” Across the table, they meet eyes and at the contact, a small smile appears on George’s face. Sapnap’s breath catches.

Dream is seated next to George, this date of course anything but traditional, but, like at the McDonald’s, Sapnap finds he doesn’t care, their closeness completely platonic—if anything, he’s comforted by it, in a sense, his two favorite people getting along as easy as they do. Sapnap’s utterly sold on it.

He and George catch eyes again as Dream peoplewatches casually, cheek resting on his palm. Sapnap’s own palm is open on the table in front of him, bored of messing with his unused cutlery. He smiles as George eyes the hand, eyes dark and inscrutable, before a hand covers his own. Sapnap curls his fingers around the other’s. They sit in this calm silence until their server brings them their food.

Sapnap’s tempted to keep George’s hand in his as he eats, but it’s his right hand and George’s left, so he lets go, turning to his food instead. George does the same, and Sapnap thinks that’s it, but then he feels a foot brush his, and when he glances up, it’s to see George already watching him, cheeks flushed. Sapnap hooks their ankles together. George’s gaze goes back to his plate.

When it comes time for dessert, George does agree on splitting with Sapnap, Dream getting his own thing, some chocolate mousse pie, and George and Sapnap getting a crème brûlée, George eager to tap the top with his spoon when the waiter brings it out to them, steaming and pretty.

Every once in awhile, their spoons clink against each other, and they exchange quick glances, Sapnap swears his aren’t heated, but the pounding in his heart suggests otherwise—he never knows with George, whether there’s something behind them or not, his eyes dark, endless, Sapnap wonders if he’ll ever be able to properly read him. If Dream is ever uncomfortable, he never gives any indication of it.

Dream and Sapnap do pay, and George looks green and guilty after, even when Dream did everything he could to keep George from seeing the check, leaning away and even cupping a hand over the receipt to prevent curious eyes from wandering.

The three of them walk out together, Sapnap’s pockets feeling considerably lighter, but the meal worth it, and when he reaches over, George lets him clasp their hands together easily, fingers intertwining like this happens everyday. Dream walks on his other side, hands in his pockets (Sapnap stops himself from making a smart remark), eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them. The sun has long since set, and a chill has started under Sapnap’s skin, shaken only by the solid warmth of George’s hand in his. Still, when a breeze ruffles their hair, Sapnap has to suppress a shiver.

They reach George’s apartment first, and he goes with an easy goodbye to Dream and a short hug around Sapnap’s middle. When he pulls away, he turns his head and his lips brush Sapnap’s cheek in something like a kiss. Sapnap watches him up until the door finally shuts and they hear the click of the lock.

They’ll reach his dorm before they reach Dream’s place. When Sapnap looks over, Dream is still staring straight ahead.

“I could’ve paid it all myself,” Dream says. “You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

“You could’ve told me to pay it all myself.” Dream turns his head, eyes on Sapnap. His gaze is sharp. “George wouldn’t have minded.”

Sapnap looks to the ground. “Yeah.”

Dream goes back to looking ahead. They walk in silence for another minute. “He’s happy,” he finally says. Sapnap’s eyes dart to the other. Dream isn’t looking back. “He really likes you.”

“I really like him,” Sapnap says.

“Monday—the other week,” Dream gives a slight laugh, “George said he really liked that, too. He had a bad day—,” Sapnap remembers the drink shoved in his hands, the dark expression on George’s face, “—and then you were there, and you were happy and happy to see him, and suddenly the bad parts of the day didn’t really matter.”

“I just want to see him smile,” Sapnap says, and then he amends the statement, “I want to see him happy. If it’s because of me, that’s even better, but really, he just…,” he shrugs, makes a noise in his throat. “I care about him.”

“So do I,” Dream says. “And I care about you. And I can tell that you guys make each other happy. And that’s all you want for each other.” He glances over, showing the other a soft smile. “And that’s all I want for you both.”

“You haven’t even known George for that long,” Sapnap says, because he’s socially incompetent or something.

“George is easy to love,” Dream replies.

Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s true. He is.

;;

It’s another one of Sapnap and Dream’s biweekly movie nights, but this time George is there, head resting in Sapnap’s lap, feet in Dream’s. He fits perfectly along the couch, though he’s turned on his side, blanket tugged tight over him as he watches Jurassic Park. They settled on that after some brief bickering, mostly between George and Sapnap, Dream content to watch whatever, while George wanted a comedy and Sapnap didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t a comedy because, “Dream and I watched a comedy last time!”

“I wasn’t here last time!” George argues. “So it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does ,” Sapnap does not whine, though they all know the pitch in his voice makes it close to one. “We should watch something else.”

In the end, it was Dream who decided, having closed his eyes then picked a movie off the shelf randomly. Once Dream was sat back down on the couch, George had huffed and flopped over onto his side to watch it, ignoring Sapnap’s cheering but not turning away from the hand the younger had placed atop his head, fingers running through the short strands.

Now, an hour and a half later, George makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling into Sapnap’s thigh, and Sapnap’s heart clenches in his chest.

Dream had dozed off a few minutes ago, chin in his palm, and now his elbow has started to slide off the arm of the couch. Sapnap bends over, running his nose along the curve of George’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he whispers. “Want to call it a night?”

George turns his head, nose bumping into Sapnap’s when Sapnap doesn’t sit up quick enough. Their eyes lock, dark blue on dark brown, and George stares up at him for a second before he glances to Dream at the other end of the couch, one hand curled around George’s ankles. “‘Kay,” George says, voice rough. Sapnap finally leans back the rest of the way, and George sits up, pointing his sock-clad toes and stretching out his right arm, the limb having been pressed to the couch beneath him. When he takes his feet from Dream’s lap, dropping them to the floor, Dream’s elbow finally slips from the couch, and he jerks awake, eyes blinking rapidly until they finally settle blearily on the TV.

Sapnap leans over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “George and I are gonna head out,” he tells him. “We’re all pretty tired.”

Dream looks over at him, movements sluggish, before he nods. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Sapnap replies.

Dream nods again before making a small noise and pushing himself up from the couch. The movie still plays on the television, but none of them pay it any mind. Dream picks up their empty bowl of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen.

George sighs, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Ready for the walk home?” He’s talking about their respective homes, Sapnap knows—George’s apartment and Sapnap’s dorm—but it feels so much like they’re a duo, a pair, home coming from George’s lips like they live together, that it makes Sapnap’s breath catch in his chest. Breathlessness and a clenching heart—maybe Sapnap should seek medical help.

At his lack of reply, George looks back at him. The blue light colors his skin something pretty. Maybe Sapnap’s just had an overdose of George. He doesn’t think he minds. “I’ll walk you home,” he says. And then he thinks about the placement of their houses. He backtracks. “Or… if you wanted, you could just stay at mine?”

George, growing steadily more alert as time goes on, stares at him. “You want me to go home with you,” he says. It is in no way a question.

“I mean, if you want,” Sapnap answers anyway.

“We might as well have spent the night here,” George tells him.

Sapnap glances back at Dream, only to find the other missing from the kitchen. A look at the dark hallway and the slim line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door lets him know where the other is, however. He turns back to George. “We can ask Dream,” he says. “Do you want to?”

George gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe your place would be better. We don’t know what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“We don’t,” Sapnap agrees, although they’re both aware Dream doesn’t have any plans.

“And we don’t want to overstay our welcome,” George continues.

“We don’t,” Sapnap repeats.

George sucks in a breath, holds it. “My place is farther,” he finally says on the exhale, “ but my bed is bigger.”

That’s true. Sapnap has a room to himself, but he’s still only got a twin. It can barely fit him sometimes.

“I’m willing to make the walk if you are,” he decides.

;;

George is willing to make the walk. Dream had come out of the bathroom not long after, wiping his hands dry on his sleep pants, then waving them out with a tired smile. Sapnap had taken George’s hand the minute the door had shut behind them, the two of them alone on the sidewalk, Sapnap tugging George even closer, using their connected hands to his advantage.

They make their way to George’s apartment slowly, despite their initial reluctance to walk. Sapnap wonders if it’s a delay of the inevitable or an enjoyment of the other’s company. (They can enjoy each others’ company within four walls, not outside where the unforgiving autumn cold that’s finally settled seeps into their bones.) George takes a breath.

“I don’t,” he starts, then makes a noise. “I don’t want anything to happen, Sapnap.”

When they pass under a streetlight, Sapnap sees George’s cheeks glow red. George glances over at him.

“You know that, right?”

Sapnap has a list of things he could say. I never even thought about that, is one. Why not? is another. “Yeah,” is what he goes with. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes George’s hand. George squeezes back.

“I just…,” George tilts his head back, looking to the sky, and Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the graceful column of his throat, “I really like you, Sapnap.” He goes back to looking ahead, but Sapnap keeps his eyes on him. “And it’s almost been a month since… since,” with his free hand, he makes a vague motion at where their other hands are locked together, “this. Whatever this is. So I just… in case you, I don’t know, expected anything.”

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. Again, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

George smiles at him. Sapnap smiles back.

;;

When they reach George’s apartment, George unlocks the door and Sapnap follows him silently inside, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplates what he’s about to say next. Eventually, he gives up on elegance:

“You said this.” George looks over at him from where he’s locked the door. Sapnap leans against the kitchen counter. “Whatever this is.” He makes a gesture between the two of them, something indicative of the blurry relationship they have.

“I don’t know what to call it,” George says.

“I know,” Sapnap replies. “I don't know what to call it either.”

George glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he looks back to Sapnap. “What do you want to call it?”

Sapnap raises his brows. “What do you want to call it?”

George gives a sigh. “Are we having this talk now?”

“When else will we have it?” Sapnap crosses his arms as George shuts off the main lights, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“I don’t know,” George replies. “In the morning?” He’s nothing but a shadow as he crosses in front of Sapnap. Sapnap refrains from reaching out to grab a wrist, pull him to his chest, demand an answer now. It doesn’t matter that much.

But it’d be nice to have some answers. And George had been right before. It’s been almost a month since that kiss in Sapnap’s dorm, lips greasy with Taco Bell yet the kiss still nice, in that way kissing someone you really, really like is. In kissing someone you could grow to love—maybe already love, deep, deep down—is.

“I just like knowing,” Sapnap finally says. “What’s wrong with that?”

A light flicks on, and when Sapnap takes a couple steps away from the counter, he realizes it’s the light for George’s bedroom. He stands out of place in the doorway before George takes notice and makes his way over to the other.

Sapnap gives him a tight smile once they’re face to face. George studies him for a second before sighing. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pivots, going over to a set of drawers and tugging the middle one open. T-shirts and lounge pants are folded loosely inside. “I like knowing too.” He glances over his shoulder at Sapnap. “Do you think any of these will fit?”

George buys most of his clothes oversized. Just something Sapnap’s noticed about the other. “There’s a chance,” he replies. George tosses a few different pairs at him. Sapnap changes in the bathroom.

The first pair he tries doesn’t fit at all. He gives a small laugh to himself before grabbing the second. They fit better. The third look hot, flannel and dark, even for the weather, so he leaves them folded and tries his best to fold the other pair before dutifully marching back to George’s side to have him tuck them back into his drawer.

“We’ve been on a date before,” Sapnap says, “and a half. A date and a half. You could say we’re dating?”

“We’re about to literally sleep together,” George replies, and although his cheeks are flaming, the heat radiating off them in waves, his expression remains neutral, completely unamused. “I think we’re a bit past that.”

“So…,” Sapnap tries his luck, though he’s starting to think it less luck, and more a careful maneuver on George’s part, “you could say we’re boyfriends?”

“A bit gradeschoolish,” George replies.

Sapnap blinks at him.

George stares back before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “You’re so dumb. Yes, you could say we’re boyfriends.”

Immediately, the blank look drops off Sapnap’s face, and he grins, even as George turns on a lamp and brushes past him to turn off the bedroom light, completely ignoring him. Sapnap watches him disappear out the door and round the corner into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running, then rummaging, then water running again, and then George’s head pops into the bedroom and he says, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush.”

Sapnap brushes his teeth and watches George’s shadow every time its reflection appears in the mirror. He holds back a sudsy laugh when he realizes the taste of George’s toothpaste is familiar. He rinses and spits then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer since the start of the semester. Since he’s met George. When he tugs his fingers through the ends, they get caught on knots. He does his best to untangle them without a brush. He gives up less than a minute in.

When he gets back into George’s room, George is already in bed, looking at something on his phone. Sapnap bites back a giddy smile, crawling into bed next to him, immediately pressing a kiss to his temple then sliding down the bed and wrapping an arm around his waist.

George sets his phone down on the bedside table before looking down at him. “You’re very affectionate,” he says.

“So I’ve been told,” Sapnap replies.

George stares at him for another handful of seconds. Sapnap stares back. George blinks, then stretches to turn off the lamp. They’re left in the dark once again.

Sapnap is forced to lift his arm when George gets properly under the covers, the sheets tugged up to his chin. He’s flat on his back, and when Sapnap sets his arm back down, this time across his chest, he can feel the tension in him. George takes in a breath, and when he lets it out, Sapnap feels it shudder.

“George,” Sapnap says, and then, a leap of faith, “baby.”

George turns his head. Beneath Sapnap’s arm, his heart pounds.

“C’mere,” Sapnap says. A second. Two seconds. George rolls onto his side. Now, they watch each other, face to face. Sapnap can’t pick up any details on George’s, the room too dark, the most he can figure out being the slope of George’s nose, the occasional movement of his eyes. The window is behind George. Sapnap wonders if George can see him more clearly.

Sapnap gets his arm further round George, pulling him close. When George lets out a breath, Sapnap feels it warm through his shirt. When George blinks, Sapnap feels the feathery kisses his lashes leave on his skin.

“You’re really warm,” Sapnap says.

From beneath the covers, George’s fingers twist and tangle in his shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A car passes by outside. George gives a small sigh. Sapnap brushes the pads of his fingers across the back of George’s neck.

“You can,” the words get muffled into Sapnap’s chest.

“What?” Sapnap asks.

George tilts his head back. “Your shirt,” he says. “You can take it off if you want.”

It’s Sapnap’s heart’s turn to pound.

George goes back to lying on his back. And then he rolls onto his side, but this time, he faces the window. Sapnap studies the curve of his shoulder. Then he sits up. And he pulls off his shirt.

He doesn’t really know what to do with it. Dropping it on the floor seems messy, but folding it and putting it on the bedside table just feels weird. No matter what, he’s not getting out of bed. He glances over and has to fight back the urge to jump. George has rolled back over, now staring at him.

Sapnap drops his shirt on the floor. George scoffs before rolling back over.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Sapnap immediately defends himself. He gets back under the covers. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” George replies.

Sapnap moves closer. “Stop,” George says.

Sapnap places a hand on George’s shoulder. It’s warm under his palm.

“Sapnap,” George says.

“George,” Sapnap replies. He runs his hand from George’s shoulder down to his chest. Again, he can feel his heartbeat. He pulls the other closer, so George’s back is pressed to his chest.

“No,” George says. “I’m not… spooning with you.” The word is spat with venom.

Sapnap sighs, nose tickled by the other’s hair. “Night, babe.”

“Sapnap.” George’s fingers curl around Sapnap’s wrist. They make no move to pull his hand away. He makes no move to push him away.

He still hasn’t said butterscotch. Sapnap is pretty sure he’s not going to say butterscotch. George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels him relax against his chest. Another car passes by. Sapnap hears it outside. Sees the change in lighting from behind his eyelids.

George lets out a quiet breath. “Whatever,” he finally says, more to himself than to Sapnap. “Night, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hums and delights in the shiver it sends through George. When he falls asleep, it’s to the steady sound of George breathing and the light movements of George tracing shapes on the back of his hand. Sapnap wonders what exactly it is he’s drawing. Wonders if he’s drawing anything in particular at all.

;;

When Sapnap wakes, George is still asleep. They’ve changed positions sometime in the night, both of them apparently being the type to spread out (and it had felt nice, Sapnap notes, not just to wake up next to George, but to wake up in a bed that he can actually stretch out in), so now George, Sapnap sees after sitting up all the way, has a foot just off the edge of the bed, the bump of it clear under the blanket, an arm flung back towards Sapnap, the other close to his head, fingers brushing the hair near his ear. The leg closer to Sapnap is tangled with Sapnap’s own. Sapnap’s not sure which of them is the cause for that.

There’s not much to do yet. It’s a Saturday, and while Dream didn’t have plans, he didn’t have any either. George might, but Sapnap is pretty sure that’s unlikely. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, head bouncing lightly against the pillow. George makes a soft sound from next to him. Sapnap takes his hand. He tries not to think the curl that appears at the corner of George’s lips is because of him.

George sleeps for another hour, Sapnap drifting in and out of wakefulness next to him. The final time Sapnap wakes, he knows he won’t be falling back asleep, but it doesn’t matter, because George huffs then slowly blinks open his eyes, staring blankly at the wall before looking over at Sapnap.

“G’morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Sapnap replies.

“Breakfast?” George asks.

“I’m down.”

Neither of them move.

George gives a soft laugh. Sapnap smiles at the sound.

“I might have eggs in the fridge,” George says. He looks over at the other. “I have apple juice.”

Still, neither of them move. Sapnap grins as George sighs and presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.

“There’s a diner on 3rd and Ashmore,” Sapnap tells him. “Want to try there?”

“Sounds good,” George replies.

They sit there for another second before George swings his legs off the bed and Sapnap leans over to pick his t-shirt off the floor.

“I might have a sweater you can wear,” George says. “You can put it on over your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap asks.

George tosses him a sweatshirt. It’s a pale grey, crewneck. Sapnap tugs it on over his head. It’s a little tight. George sighs, grabbing Sapnap’s jacket off the chair he had set it on the night before. “Never mind. It’s fine. Not like anyone saw you last night anyway.”

“Scared they’ll think you’re sleeping around?” Sapnap teases. George sends him an unamused look, taking the sweatshirt back when Sapnap hands it to him. “George the neighborhood whore?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?” George asks, and while Sapnap is choking on his words, George sends him a playful look, hanging the sweatshirt back up in his closet.

Sapnap gets a grip on himself and gives him a smile back. “That’s not a no.”

“Yes,” George tells him, “because I’m just such a whore. Always sleeping around.”

Sapnap stands, going over to George, backing him up into the bedroom door. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, “if that were the case. I know it’s not, but even if it were, I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” George replies. Sapnap wonders if George thinks that was the case with him. “I,” they had tentatively locked eyes, George’s occasionally glowing amber when caught by the morning light slipping through the blinds, but now, George looks away, at some distant point past Sapnap, “like you as you are. If that’s how you were, it wouldn’t matter. I like you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sapnap asks, breath caught in his throat. At George’s concerned look, Sapnap waves a hand. “Morning breath, I—you—you seem like you’d care about that.”

George presses a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s lips. Sapnap lifts a hand and runs his fingers along George’s chin, gets pricked by the short, short stubble there, then tilts his head and kisses George proper on the lips. George kisses back.

When they separate, George keeps his eyes closed. Sapnap bumps their noses together.

“In the future,” George says, “I’ll care about that.”

Sapnap really wants to say I love you.

“I’m sure you will,” he says instead.

;;

For breakfast, Sapnap has steak and eggs. George has French toast. To drink, he has apple juice. Sapnap stares into his own black coffee.

“Very nice,” George tells him. “Very stereotypical.”

“Are you really judging my food choices right now?” Sapnap asks.

George lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his juice as he raises a single brow. Sapnap tries to be defiant, firm in his choices, but his eyes are continually drawn to George’s throat, the pale skin there. His gaze is only broken by George setting the glass back down. Sapnap swallows. He can’t say if George’s eyes following the movement is deliberate.

He looks back up. George has moved on, cutting into his toast, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “How’s yours?”

Sapnap cuts into his steak. It’s good.

They eat, and their legs once again tangle, this time under a table instead of blankets.

;;

Despite what they had all told each other the day before, George and Sapnap end up not seeing Dream again.

“Sorry,” he tells them over a Discord call, George and Sapnap both at George’s computer, Sapnap having dragged the chair in the corner of George’s bedroom over to the desk. “Someone kind of high profile asked me to code something for them. I wasn’t going to turn it down. It was a good offer.”

“We didn’t expect you to turn it down,” George replies. “We don’t want you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, man,” Sapnap agrees. “That’s great. Secure that bag.”

“Secure that bag?” George echoes. “Seriously?”

“Let’s get this bread,” Sapnap says solemnly. “Make his pockets hurt.”

“I already did,” George replies.

“Still,” Dream cuts in easily, making George and Sapnap immediately stop, heads turning once again to the computer, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday or Tuesday maybe.”

“You want a rematch?” George asks him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve completely obliterated you.”

“Whatever,” Dream laughs. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” George and Sapnap agree. And then the call ends. And then it’s just them.

Part of Sapnap feels like he’s overstaying his welcome. Part of him wants to overstay his welcome, wants to stay forever. Part of him feels like George would say something if he were. If not get out , then butterscotch or something. But George has stayed silent, content to have Sapnap by his side.

At that thought, Sapnap leans over, a hand coming to rest on George’s thigh. George shifts, and Sapnap’s hand falls. That was the movement’s intention. Sapnap readjusts, placing his hand on the edge of George’s chair. George returns to his previous position. Sapnap leaves his hand where it is.

George takes a breath then leans back, head rolling on his neck to look over at Sapnap. “Got any work to do?”

“Nope,” Sapnap replies, popping the p. George hums, eyes slipping shut.

“Got any plans at all?”

“Nope,” Sapnap repeats. “No obligations, nowhere I need to be. I can go home if you want me to, though.”

“You don’t need to,” George replies. And then he glances behind to the bed. “I might take a nap.”

“You want me to say something,” Sapnap says, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

George looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I want you,” he says, “to do whatever you think you should be doing right now.”

And with that, he rises from his chair, tugs off his tennis shoes, and falls onto the bed.

“In jeans?” Sapnap asks him, crossing his arms as best as he can at the angle he’s at.

George grunts. Sapnap sighs, taking the pair of sweatpants George had left on the dresser and dropping them on the bed next to George.

“You want any water or anything?” he asks.

George keeps his eyes closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before heading to the bathroom.

He really has no idea what George wants from him.

Really, going into the bathroom was just him stalling, more for George’s benefit than his—he’s completely certain he’ll reenter George’s bedroom to see the other wearing the sweatpants he had set next to him—but he does use it as a moment to wonder just what he’s supposed to be doing.

When he goes back into George’s room, the other is lying the way he had been when he left, but, just as Sapnap thought, he’s now wearing sweatpants, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Sapnap takes a seat next to him, then lets out a breath and lets himself relax back onto the bed. George’s arm falls from his eyes. Together, they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can we just stay like this?” George finally asks.

Sapnap looks over at him.

George remains looking at the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap.” George’s fingers brush his. Sapnap fights the urge to take them. “It’s a lot for me.” George finally turns his head and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

Sapnap holds his breath. George’s fingers run up his arm, tickle quick over his shoulder, finally scratch through the slight beard he has. “Sorry,” Sapnap says.

George takes a breath, then shifts, turning himself onto his side. “Not your fault. It’s just new. A lot of this is,” he gives a quiet exhale, “new.” His fingers still press against Sapnap’s skin. They’re warm. Sapnap swears when they fall away, his skin will be stained red.

“I like it,” George finally says. “New is good.”

“That’s good,” Sapnap says.

“It is,” George agrees. “I like this a lot.”

“In the future, you’ll care?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs, gentle, soft. “I already do.”

;;

The rest of the weekend passed slowly, time molasses. Sapnap hadn’t spent the night again, the two of them finally napping, then Sapnap slipping out when they next woke, delivering a kiss to George’s lips then tugging his jacket over his shoulders and heading out into the October cold. He’d taken his time on the walk home, an opposite of Friday night—reluctance to leave, each step heavier than the last. By the time he gets to his dorm, he swears his feet are stone.

Wearily, he eyes his desk. Atop it lay various assignments, all at different degrees of completion. Most aren’t due till Friday or the next week entirely—he’d meant it when he told George he’s got nothing he needs to be doing—but with nothing to take his immediate attention anymore, he finds himself wondering if now would be a good time to complete it all.

He gets through an assignment and a half before he finds his thoughts wandering. Some of them go towards eating; he and George had slept through lunch, and now it’s practically dinnertime, and Sapnap is hungry. But most of them go towards George, towards a thought he’d had that morning.

I love you.

He rolls the thought around in his mind. Reshapes it.

I love you, George.

A beat.

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap. It’s a lot for me.”

Sapnap groans, head coming to rest in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he pushes his hair back. An I love you now would be too soon. They’ve just declared themselves boyfriends, and now Sapnap is thinking about I love yous.

It is a lot. For anyone. Sapnap is the odd one out here. He knows it’s a problem, but he just doesn’t know any other way to be.

;;

meeting dream today, gonna try and kick his ass. wish me luck?

Sapnap smiles down at the text that lights up his phone. Kick his ass babe, gl but u got this

thanks

Sapnap slips his phone back into his pocket. It vibrates. Sapnap pulls it out once more.

It’s probably the bare minimum. There’s no words involved. But it stops Sapnap short, leaving him staring down at his screen with wide eyes. He wonders if he’s pink. His skin feels warm.

It means something. It’s George. It has to mean something.

;;

“I brought Taco Bell,” George announces when Sapnap swings the door open.

George pushes past him easily, setting the bags at an empty spot on Sapnap’s desk while Dream brings up the rear, shirt wet with condensation from their drinks.

“It only felt right,” George tells him as Dream gives him his Baja Blast.

“I’m here this time, though,” Dream says, pulling out a burrito from one of the bags George sat down. “Please don’t make any jumps in your relationship while I’m still in the room, thanks.”

George glares at him then takes a menacing bite of his Quesarito.

Sapnap turns to Dream with wide eyes. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“It won’t be,” George says.

“I didn’t realize you’re so sentimental, George,” Dream finally speaks up after a few minutes of them just eating their food.

“I’m not,” George replies.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dream sends him an unamused look, but George just gives him one right back.

“Really,” he says. “I’m not.” He glances at Sapnap. Dream catches it. “I’m not really doing this for myself, anyway.”

Sapnap flushes, staring down at his gordita. Dream looks between them, blinks, exhales. Sapnap thinks he’s going to say something ridiculous. All he says is, “Couples,” and that’s that.

George catches his eye, smiles, and it’s like they’re sharing a secret. Sapnap likes it.

He loves it.

;;

With a new week comes the panic of midterms. Sapnap had thought he’d been overwhelmed before, but now he’s drowning, completely slipping under murky waters.

George pulls him out with a heated chocolate croissant and a pat on the head.

Sapnap smiles at him as he walks away.

Dream sits on a chair next to him, flipping through one of the New Yorker s left on the little table in front of them. Sapnap blinks at his laptop before setting it aside and stretching. “You’re so lucky, man,” he tells Dream, who gives a noncommittal hum and turns a page. “I mean it. Midterms are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “Tests are annoying.”

“They’re dumb,” Sapnap says, conviction coloring his words. “Memorization is dumb.”

“Just a couple more years of this,” Dream replies.

Sapnap sighs, picking up the chocolate croissant and taking a bite. “Just a couple more years.”

After a few more minutes, Dream heaves a sigh. “It’s getting to me,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sapnap replies, like he can in some way change the strength of the coffee.

“It’s fine,” Dream dismisses, then he stands, dropping the magazine back onto the table. “See you later.”

Sapnap sends him a smile as he waves at George, who’s moved back behind the counter.

“See you!” George calls as the door slides shut behind Dream.

“That was pretty long, I think,” Sapnap says when George makes his way over a few minutes later, now on break, taking up Dream’s empty chair. “We’d been here almost an hour.”

“That is long,” George agrees. “How long are you staying?”

“You get off at four?” Sapnap asks, and George nods. “Want to get dinner with Dream and I after?”

“Of course.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back.

;;

Despite all of his manic studying—or perhaps because of it—midterms the next week pass by relatively quickly, him coming out of his last class Friday tired but content. He doesn’t really think he got an A, but he’s sure his mark will be pretty damn close.

A few hours and a billion failed Minecraft speedruns later, Sapnap gets a message from Dream.

I know movie nights r every other week, but u just finished midterms. Wanna come over?

Sapnap’s at the other’s house before he even thinks about it. “Uh, yes, I want to come over,” he tells Dream when the other opens the door. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want,” Dream replies. “You’re the one who’s got nothing to worry about anymore.”

Sapnap grins, plucking a movie off the shelf. “Here,” he hands it to Dream. “Popcorn?”

“You know it,” Dream replies, getting the movie set up.

When the popcorn is done, Dream is on the couch, remote in hand. “Good?”

Sapnap nods, setting the bowl between them.

The movie passes by quickly, and they move onto the next one—it turns into a right marathon by the time the sun has set, and eventually, the bowl of popcorn is empty, and they’re leaning against one another in the center of the couch.

At a lull in the movie, a quiet moment between the two main characters, Sapnap speaks:

“I think I’m in love with George.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. Sapnap feels him shift against him. Their shoulders press together. “He’s easy to love,” Dream echoes his words from weeks before.

“Easy to scare,” Sapnap replies.

More movement.

“Is there ever a right time to say I love you?” Dream asks. “If you love them, let them know.”

“He told me that I’m a lot,” Sapnap tells him. “That I’m a lot for him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say it like that,” Dream says. Sapnap gives a half-hearted shrug. Dream sits up, angling himself to better face Sapnap. Sapnap imitates his pose. Like this, he can only see half of Dream’s face, one side lit up by the TV screen, the other cast in shadow. “It’s been a month,” Dream continues, “and a half. I think George is the type of guy where, if he feels like you’re too much, if he doesn’t like you, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to sit there, miserable, waiting for you to pull the plug.”

Dream is right because of course he is, but Sapnap still shifts, uncomfortable. “I just… I am a lot. We don’t spend all the time together, but I’m so much more affectionate than he is, and it’s like… I already love him, and—and—we have a safeword, Dream. Like this is some BDSM thing. But it’s not for that, it’s for how much I fucking hold his hand.”

“But isn't that proof?” Dream asks. “That’s communication. Compromise. He wants this to work, Sap. He wants to be with you. Wants you.” He smiles, hand reaching between them to hold Sapnap’s shoulder. “He wants the guy that’s pushy and loud and in your face, the guy that drinks too many vanilla fraps and gets competitive over everything and likes to cuddle. He wouldn’t have decided to go out with you—hell, I don’t even think he’d have kissed you—if that isn’t who he wanted.” He leans back, hand stroking warm down Sapnap’s arm, and the minute it falls back into his lap, Sapnap leans forward to throw his arms around the other.

“I love you,” Sapnap says, turning his face to press his nose into Dream’s neck. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Though his arms are pinned awkwardly to his sides, Dream still manages to reach and get his hands on Sapnap’s waist where he squeezes the other in a poor imitation of a hug. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t my best friend,” he replies. “I love you too.”

When Sapnap pulls away, Dream smiles. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying I love you to, though.”

Sapnap sleeps on Dream’s couch that night and dreams of the different ways telling George he loves him could go.

He’s pleased to note that most of the scenarios end positively.

;;

Saturday he spends the night at George’s again. He lies in bed, quiet, with George next to him, one of the older’s hands holding his phone, the other affectionately brushing through Sapnap’s hair. Sapnap gives a quiet sigh before rolling over and touching his nose to George’s hip. George hums and twirls a lock of Sapnap’s hair around a thin finger.

“You okay?” George asks.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into the other's side. “Tired.”

“Fall break is coming up,” George consoles him, “and midterms are over.”

Sapnap nods, arm stretching out and over George’s waist. His fingers brush along George’s side, featherlight. George flinches away from it with a giggle. Sapnap tilts his head, eyes opening and gaze flitting to George’s face. It’s a bad angle, but he can still make out the smile there.

He loves George, he knows that now. He’s in love with George.

And George wants him. Wants the him that touches too much and feels too much and loves more than he should. George wants that. George has that. And he likes it.

Sapnap sighs, sinking back into George’s side. George plugs his phone in then turns off the lamp. Before he gets fully under the covers, Sapnap feels his fingers run through his hair one more time before a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Sapnap,” George whispers.

Sapnap squeezes George as best as he can, delivers warm kisses to the parts of George he can reach. “Night, baby.”

George hums, touching the tips of their noses together (with the action, Sapnap swears he did some kind of witchcraft to steal his breath), before rolling over, back to Sapnap’s front. Sapnap bites back a smile. He wonders if George would call this spooning. Because that’s what it is.

He buries his nose in the soft hair at the nape of George’s neck. It’d be easy to say it now. Let the words slip out and if George questions him on it, he can blame it on sleep. A slip of the tongue.

But he doesn’t want it to be a mistake, even if that’s a lie to save his own face. He wants the words to be deliberate, the meaning of them felt by George wholly.

He sighs, and George shivers with it. Sapnap makes a small noise of apology.

“What’re you thinking about?” George finally asks.

Sapnap takes in a breath. He’s not sure what to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” George says.

“I want to,” Sapnap replies.

George exhales, the sound loud, before rolling back over. When he’s facing Sapnap, a hand comes up to hold Sapnap’s cheek.

“I think you’re more affectionate than you realize,” Sapnap tells him.

“I think you just make me affectionate,” George replies.

Sapnap stares at him. George stares back before he lifts his hand, fingertips remaining against Sapnap’s skin. He runs them over his cheek, then across his lower lip. And then they go back to his cheek, and George is moving to slot their lips together.

When they separate, Sapnap smiles. He’s pretty sure George smiles back. He presses one more kiss to George’s lips.

He could say it now. George’s fingers begin to tangle into the ends of Sapnap’s hair. His mouth is hot underneath Sapnap’s own. Their breath intermingles. Under the sheets, their legs have tangled together. The two of them are practically completely intertwined.

Against his lips, Sapnap feels George smile.

He says it.

The words hang heavy in the minimal space between them. Sapnap’s heart is equally heavy in his chest as he anticipates George’s reaction. He wants to ramble—apologize, take them back, clarify, tell him that he loves him but he isn’t in love with him (but he is)—but he doesn’t. The words are what they are. He means them.

Though his face seems to now be void of the smile he wore, George doesn’t move away, and they remain tangled together. George rubs his thumb over the curve of Sapnap’s cheek.

He feels George’s breath. George kisses him softly. And then he replies: “I can’t say it yet, Sapnap.” His other hand finds Sapnap’s own. Holds it. “I feel it. I’m, like, certain I do. But I can’t say it yet. Not like that.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, nods. “I get it. That’s fine. I love you, though. I just… wanted you to know.”

At that, George laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.” A beat. And then, “The minute I can say it myself, I’ll tell you.”

Sapnap smiles. “I’m holding you to that.”

George rolls back over. Instead of waiting for Sapnap to curl around him, he backs up, pulls Sapnap’s arm over him. Readjusts so it’s even harder to separate their legs. “Goodnight, Sapnap.” He means it this time.

Sapnap closes his eyes, relaxes. The words are out there now. And George accepts them. No take-backs.

“Goodnight.”

;;

Neither bring it up later. It happened—Sapnap definitely told him—but the words stay only in the air between them, felt but never heard. They go on a walk, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company, and at the local cafe (an actual cafe, not the Starbucks George works at), they split a hot chocolate topped with a mountain of whipped cream that ages them a hundred years only for those years to be wiped away with a thumb. At one point, George has some stuck to the corner of his lips, and Sapnap can’t help but lean forward to lick it away. Of course, George shrieks and shoves him back, flustered and grossed out, but his lips are upturned.

“Sweet,” Sapnap tells him.

“You’re so annoying,” George replies.

“You’re cute,” Sapnap shoots back.

George flushes and takes the mug from Sapnap’s hands, lifting it to his lips so he can hide the smile on his lips. It only works so well. Sapnap lets the moment go, though.

“Normally that’d be butterscotch,” George tells him as they exit the cafe. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s so disgusting.”

Sapnap laces their fingers together. George huffs.

“The only reason you got away with it is because I didn’t expect it.” George kicks a pebble lying in his path. “So annoying.”

Sapnap doesn’t bring it up, but he does say it again.

George stutters out a laugh. Sapnap feels George’s hand squeeze his. It’s enough.

;;

The weeks pass by quickly after that, and soon Sapnap finds himself Friday night sitting between George and Dream while an early 2000s sci-fi movie plays on the TV. They weren’t supposed to have movie night this week either, but come tomorrow morning Sapnap is supposed to head down south for Thanksgiving with his family, so this is their last hurrah together.

They’re a bit like dominoes, actually, Dream sitting normally on the couch, Sapnap’s back resting pressed against his side, and George leaning on Sapnap. Idly, he plays with Sapnap’s fingers. To add to George’s amusement, Sapnap flexes and stretches his fingers. Meanwhile, Dream tugs on his hair.

“It’s probably best you head home soon,” Dream says. “Not to kick you out, but it’s a long drive tomorrow.”

“How many hours away is Houston anyway?” George asks, voice muffled with the way his cheek is squished against Sapnap’s chest.

“Too many,” Sapnap says. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dream tells him.

George makes an affirmative noise.

“But it’s only for a week,” Sapnap says. “And then I’ll be back up here.”

“You don’t normally focus on that,” Dream tells him, more for George’s sake than his. Sapnap flushes, glancing down at George, who stares back with inquisitive eyes. “But I guess now you have something to come back to. Someone.”

“I like spending time with you.”

Dream scoffs. “Like distance ever mattered when it comes to us.”

“Huh?” George pushes himself up and Sapnap sends Dream a dirty look.

“I like cuddling with the homies well enough, but affection from you is way different from affection from George.” He pulls George back down on top of him. “Affection from you is like… a jacket. Nice to have, really nice, but not a necessity. George is a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Dream guffaws. “I hope I’m not just a jacket to you guys, but a friend too.”

“You’re my friend, Dream,” George tells him.

“I love you, George!” Dream immediately replies, and George hides a laugh in Sapnap’s chest.

The movie ends not long after that, and soon Sapnap is heading home.

“I can walk myself home just fine,” George tells him when they reach the intersection that Sapnap is supposed to turn at.

“But I like walking you home,” Sapnap replies.

“But you need to rest,” George tells him, smile on his face. He brushes a strand of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes. “I can help you pack your car in the morning?”

“Do you want to?”

George just continues to smile.

“Why are you like this?” Sapnap asks, and then he leans forward and George lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck. They kiss, and when they separate, Sapnap squeezes George’s waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well,” George replies.

“I’ll try.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back. George’s hand slips from his neck, and Sapnap’s hand falls from his waist. George starts to walk away. “Goodnight!” Sapnap calls after him. “Love you!”

“Goodnight, Sapnap!” George calls back.

;;

George greets him with a kiss and a coffee and bagel pressed into his hands. “For the road,” he says, and Sapnap thanks him, setting the things aside and drawing George into a deeper kiss than the chaste one he was given. “For the road?”

Sapnap grins. “For me. A week away from you. You know I need my kissies.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” George says. “Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sapnap laughs before tugging his backpack over his shoulders. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he leads George to the parking lot, where he lifts his suitcase and sets it into the trunk. “Seriously, though,” he says, “this’ll be fun.”

“An experiment,” George replies. “A week apart. How will we fare?”

Sapnap grins, and George smiles back.

“Remember me while I’m away,” Sapnap tells him. “Don’t go falling for the first pretty face you see.”

“Of course not,” George says solemnly, and Sapnap laughs. George studies him for a second before once again kissing him. “Three’s a lucky number.”

“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t,” George replies.

Another kiss. George makes a small noise.

“Four,” Sapnap says. “Actually, I think that’s unlucky in China. I read that somewhere.”

One more.

“How’s five?” George asks.

“Eh,” Sapnap says. “Even numbers are better.”

“Seven is lucky.”

“Eight?”

“Pushing it.”

Sapnap leans away from where he’d come to pin George against the door. George straightens up, readjusts his shirt. Sapnap runs a hand through his hair. George tracks the movement with his eyes. Sapnap’s hand falls back to his side.

“Thanks,” he says.

George huffs a small laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before pulling him into a hug. “I really will miss you,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re getting on the server with Dream and I if you’re not too tired tonight, right?” George asks.

“Duh.”

George nods. Sapnap feels it against his neck.

“I’ll miss you too,” George finally says.

Sapnap holds him tighter.

;;

Despite the drama of him leaving, Thanksgiving passes by without much fuss.

They voice call a fair amount and when Sapnap gets to Houston he does hop on the SMP for a bit, a couple hours later passing out mid-call. When he wakes, the lights are all shut off and his blinds are closed.

He’s grateful.

Dream FaceTimes him on Thanksgiving, showing Sapnap his and George’s… creative feast.

“I still can’t believe you guys are having it together,” Sapnap tells the two, completely ignoring the football game on TV to focus entirely on them.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Dream asks him. “George’s family is in England, and it’s not like they celebrate, and I’m not going to Florida this year. Why not?”

That’s fair.

“Still,” Sapnap says anyway. “And did you just call every nearby restaurant?”

“It’s an assortment,” George says.

“But it’s good,” Dream continues. “Besides, it’s more about the leftovers than the meal.”

Also fair, and Sapnap finds himself with an array of Tupperware from his family’s Thanksgiving in his backseat as he drives back to school. When he’s back inside his dorm, staring at his minifridge, he realizes they won’t all fit in the small space.

“Can I use your fridge?”

“Welcome back, Sapnap,” George replies. “How was your break?”

“I’m offering you free food,” Sapnap says.

“And I’m asking how your break was.”

Sapnap makes a face. “Good. I’m happy to be back. Now, can I please use your fridge?”

A pause. “You only love me for my house,” George finally says. “That’s so wrong of you.”

It’s the first time George has ever brought up Sapnap’s love for him, even as a joke. Sapnap takes a breath. “I do love you for your house,” he replies, teasing before turning serious, “but I also love you for a lot of other reasons. You’re very lovable, you know.”

George is quiet for a second before Sapnap hears movement. “When are you coming over here?”

Sapnap gets an Uber, knowing parking near George’s apartment is risky at best. “Ten minutes?” he says when his phone tells him his driver will be there soon.

“Okay.” Sapnap listens as George putters around. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” George replies immediately, and then, “you’ll see.”

“M'kay,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” George says, and then ends the call.

Sapnap looks down into his plastic bag of remaining Tupperware. His phone pings—the driver’s outside.

;;

“Are you ready to eat leftovers for months?” Sapnap asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “Or at least as long as they last.”

George opens the first bag, pulling out a medium-sized container stuffed full of mashed potatoes. Immediately, he finds a place in his fridge to tuck it into. He does this with the rest of the containers, Sapnap taking them out and setting them on the empty counter space for George to pick up and put away. When they’re done, George comes to lean next to Sapnap.

“We survived,” he says.

“I knew we would,” Sapnap replies.

They’re on each other in an instant.

“I’m not usually into this,” George says hotly into his mouth.

“I know,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” George continues.

“Do you need to know?” Sapnap asks.

George moans at the nip Sapnap gives to his lower lip.

“No,” George replies. “No.” Sapnap runs a burning trail of bites soothed by his tongue down George’s neck. “Sapnap.”

Against his skin, Sapnap smiles.

George gasps when Sapnap moves to press George into the couch instead, the cushions definitely comfier than the linoleum counter. “I missed you so much,” Sapnap says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You—Sapnap, yes—too.” George gets his fingers twisted and tangled into his hair, drags him up roughly. Sapnap bites back a groan at the sting and George pulls him into a bruising kiss. “Shit. I missed you.”

Sapnap lets himself be pulled down over George’s body, more than happy to press him further into the couch.

;;

George doesn’t let Sapnap skip his first class on Monday.

“School is important,” he tells him, zipping up his jacket like some mother hen. Sapnap makes a face when his hands brush imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs. “Leaving for a week again?”

Sapnap gives him a dry look.

George smiles, soft. “I’m going to work. You’ll see me in, like, four… five hours at most. Is that really the end of the world?”

Sapnap grabs his hands from where they’d come to rest on his chest, pulling George in closer. “I just like spending time with you.”

“I love spending time with you too,” George says, “and you don’t see me clinging to you.”

“You think this is clingy?” Sapnap raises a brow in a silent challenge, and George tries to back up, but Sapnap just gives another tug to his hands before pulling him into a hug and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You wish I were clingy! You want me to be more clingy, actually.”

“I do not,” George replies, words warm against Sapnap’s ear. Sapnap holds back a shiver as George wriggles in his arms. “You’re… I like you like this.”

Sapnap holds him closer. George lets him.

He pulls away after a moment, the day finally catching up to them. “Class,” George tells Sapnap.

“Work,” Sapnap tells George.

They reach the Starbucks and George squeezes his hand. “See you,” he says.

“Love you,” Sapnap replies. And then George is disappearing into the cafe, the words dissipating in the growing space between them.

;;

The rest of the week passes by slowly, each day slouching into the next. Sapnap looks over at George, whose lips are wrapped pretty around a cake pop. He’s been quiet, more so than usual, and it sets Sapnap on edge, each word coming out of him more hesitant than the last.

Come Saturday, and he finds himself confronting the other.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” is immediately shot back, and Sapnap rushes forward, George bringing a hand up between them to push him away. “I’m not. I’m just….”

“I’m too much,” Sapnap says, filling in the words himself.

George is adamant. “No! You’re—you’re—you’re you, and I—Sapnap, I really—,” he makes a small noise and Sapnap tries to get closer again, but George’s hand comes back up and he mutters a quick butterscotch.

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks. “I did something.”

“You—no,” George shoves past Sapnap to get a glass and fill it up with tap water. He takes a quick drink before pouring the rest down the drain. “You love me so much,” he finally says.

“You’re lovable,” Sapnap replies. “Everything about you, George. It’s just—you’re so easy to love.”

“That’s what Dream had said,” George tells him, and Sapnap swallows at the lump that’s built in his throat like sediment, little bits and pieces added to the pile till it cuts off Sapnap’s airways and he’s left floundering, gasping for air. George gives a quiet laugh. “I thought,” he swallows, takes a breath in contrast to Sapnap’s struggle, “it was too soon. I’m not good at this, Sapnap.”

Sapnap moves to speak, but George continues, setting the glass in the sink before his fingers curl into the countertop, knuckles turning white from his grip. He takes another breath. “I love you,” he says, all in one breath. “It shouldn’t have happened so fast. I’m… I’m terrified, Sapnap.”

When Sapnap takes a hesitant step closer, George lets him. He lifts a hand and brushes back some of George’s hair before running his knuckles over George’s cheek, down to his neck. He curls his fingers around the back, brushes them through the short hair there. Under his palm, George is tense.

George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

And then he shrugs off Sapnap's hand, moves around him, disappears into his bedroom. Sapnap hears the door click. He stands alone in the kitchen, his only source of light the one over the stove. He thinks it might be dimmer than usual. He waits. George doesn’t come back out. Sapnap wonders if he’s been broken up with. George still doesn’t come back out.

Sapnap looks at the empty plastic bags on the counter. He gathers them in his hands. George can keep his leftovers. He never really wanted them anyway.

;;

“I think George broke up with me,” Sapnap accepts the apple slice Dream hands him, and at the sight of the fruit, it’s like the dam he tried to build surrounding thoughts of George breaks and all those pent up feelings come pouring out, “yesterday. He told me he loved me. And then he left me.” His grandma had made some apple cobbler. It sits on the second shelf of George’s fridge. George’s favorite fruit is apples.

Sapnap takes a bite out of the slice. Dream sits next to him on the couch, setting the tray of assorted fruit on the coffee table. “Did he actually say that?” Dream asks. “That he’s breaking up with you.”

“He left,” Sapnap repeats. “He said, ‘I love you. You’re too much for me.’ Then he just… walked into his room, shut the door, and that was it.”

“Talk to him again,” Dream says. “He told you he loved you. I don’t think that’s nothing for George.”

Sapnap sighs. It’s not. Dream smiles at him, and Sapnap leans over, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Dream tells him. “Communication is always key.”

As always, he’s right.

;;

He doesn’t want to have any major conversations at Starbucks, but he feels if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it at all. There hasn’t been any word between him and George since that conversation in the kitchen, but Sapnap doesn’t let that deter him, instead pressing on determinedly as he walks inside and sees George’s usual station devoid of, well, George.

“Called in sick today,” Sarah tells him as she finishes putting whipped cream on someone’s drink. “Thought he’d have told you.”

Sapnap blinks. “Uh,” he says, and then, “think he fell back asleep before he could. Thanks.” Sarah waves nonchalantly, but Sapnap is out the door before he can see it.

The walk to George’s has him tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, the chill settling deep within him, unshakeable now, especially without George’s easy warmth by his side. He’s never been more grateful to see the steps leading up to the older’s apartment than he is at this moment.

And then he has to wait, much the same way he did Saturday, wait for George to see his text, call him back, answer his knock.

He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

The lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Sapnap swears his fingertips are turning blue.

“George,” he says immediately, just to have said something , and then the door is opening wider and Sapnap is rushing into the apartment, getting himself fully inside before George can reconsider.

In the sink, he spies empty Tupperware containers.

George stands next to the couch. Sapnap swallows.

“George,” he says again. “I missed you.”

“It was only a day, Sapnap,” George replies. His voice is quiet.

“You said I love you to me,” Sapnap says. George stays silent. Sapnap falters, continues: “I love you too, and I know I’m a lot, but George,” he comes closer—George lets him—he places a hand on George’s waist—George lets him, “I’ll… you once told me I can’t dial it down, or whatever, and this is me telling you that for you, I’d dial it down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t, but I want to try. For you. You said you’d try for me. You need to know I’d do the same for you.”

George laughs, but it’s an empty, hollow sound, just air shoved past his lips. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sapnap asks. “You said it happened so fast. What happened so fast?”

George mutters something. Sapnap moves closer. George pushes him back. “Falling in love, dumbass. I was in love with you before I even realized it was love I was feeling.” He keeps his hand in front of him, a visible barrier between him and Sapnap. “Am feeling.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sapnap asks. “What are you so afraid of?”

George doesn’t reply.

“It’s only as complicated as you let it be,” Sapnap says. “I’m—we’re—we’re in love with each other, George.” His voice is firm. George finally meets his eyes. Dark and inscrutable as ever. Sapnap is in love with him. “Isn’t that enough? Just for right now, tell me it isn’t enough.”

George moves, a mirror image of the him in Sapnap’s dorm on Tuesday months ago, bringing their lips together and kissing Sapnap with purpose. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkle. “I can’t. I can’t tell you it isn’t enough. But I won’t say it’s not either.”

“I love you,” Sapnap says, reflex. He presses a kiss to George’s lips, presses one to his cheeks, his chin, nose, forehead. “I love everything about you.”

“You too,” George says. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t need to know,” Sapnap replies. “Just love me. Be in love with me.”

George’s fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pull him closer. Their noses touch and Sapnap feels every single one of George’s breaths on his lips. They’re heavy. So are his own. When George speaks, he may as well be putting the words directly into Sapnap’s mouth, the two of them working as one. “I love you,” he says, and so does Sapnap. “I love you and being with you and being in love with you.”

“It won’t be perfect,” Sapnap says. (So does George.)

“But it doesn’t need to be.” George seals their lips together. He’s right. Neither of them need it to be perfect. Nor, Sapnap thinks, as George wraps an arm around his neck, draws him closer, holds him tighter, do either of them want it to be.

#georgenap #sapnotfound #snf #fic #fanfiction

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anthonyjlockwood · 3 years

Note

Friend 👀👀 5 or 7 (definitely with lukebobby) on your prompt list!!!

Hey Lilly! I chose prompt 5 (Reggie is banned from the store Bobby works in, for Reasons, so he asks Luke to flirt with him so he’ll let him back in.)

read it on ao3 here!

“How exactly does someone get banned from the grocery store?”

“I don’t know, Alex!” Reggie wailed. He plopped down onto the couch in Alex and Willie’s shared apartment with dramatic flair.

Alex, who’d been sitting on the middle cushion with his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, shoved him aside. “Get up, you’re being dramatic.”

“The cashier was just so attractive,” Reggie whined. “I had to do something cool, ‘cause I wanted to ask for her number, so I took a Sharpie and wrote ‘I think you’re dairy cute’ on a carton of chocolate milk, so she’d see it when I went to check out! I didn’t think I’d get caught, and be thrown out of the store for vandalism!”

“You really thought that would work?” Alex asked.

“Hey, Alex. I think you’re ‘dairy cute,” Willie smirked, earning an eye roll from his boyfriend.

“Well, Reggie… I think it was a thoughtful gesture,” Julie called from the kitchen, “but why couldn’t you have just written your number on a piece of paper like everybody else?”

“Because! Go big or go home, Julie!” Reggie insisted.

“So, how are you gonna get Miss Dairy Cute’s number now?” Luke wondered, from deep in the refrigerator. He pulled out a package of string cheese and tossed it across the room, where Willie caught it from the sofa.

“I don’t know,” Reggie whined. “This is so unfair! It should be illegal to ban someone from a grocery store, anyway-- how am I supposed to buy food?”

“I’m sure you won’t go hungry,” Alex deadpanned. “There are like, six other grocery stores within driving distance.”

“But Cute Girl works at that grocery store!” Reggie huffed. “This sucks. And that manager probably thought he was sooo cool, and... responsible, kicking me out like that.”

“I have an idea!” Willie perked up. “Why don’t you get someone who’s not banned to go give your number to Miss Dairy Cute for you?”

Reggie wrinkled his nose. “Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s gotta see me, dude. I have to sweep her off her feet!”

“Well what other options do you have?” Alex asked. “Get someone to flirt with the ‘cool’, ‘responsible’ store manager and convince him to let you back in?”

Reggie’s eyes widened. He slapped Alex’s chest with the back of his hand energetically. “Dude, you’re a genius!”

“Wait, I was joking!” Alex screeched. “That’s a terrible idea!”

“The worst,” Luke agreed, laughing. “You gonna beg someone to be your wingman, Reg?”

“What’s that, folks?” Reggie put a hand to his ear and leaned forward theatrically. “Do we have a volunteer?”

“No!” Luke wrinkled his nose. “I don’t wanna go make an ass of myself at the grocery store,” he complained. “We’re supposed to be having a movie marathon tonight! Can’t you get someone to flirt with Mr. Responsibility tomorrow?”

“Oh no… I forgot to buy popcorn!” Reggie exclaimed, with exaggerated alarm. “We need popcorn tonight if we’re gonna have movie night. What a shame. Too bad I’m… banned from the grocery store.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Luke meaningfully.

“God, you’re annoying,” Luke complained.

"Off you go,” Reggie shooed him away.

“Ugh, fine,” Luke hefted himself up off the couch and grabbed his keys off the kitchen island. “Anyone wanna come?”

“Nope!”

“No, thanks!”

“I’m good right here!”

Luke groaned. “You guys are the worst. Don’t start the movie without me!”

When Luke entered the grocery store, the first thing he noticed was an old lady, angrily waving her cane at a guy in a vest. “This is unacceptable!” she was saying. “I’ve been coming to this grocery store for fifty four years!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the guy in the vest said, “but this coupon expired in 2004. We can’t accept it.” He turned away from her, towards Luke, and disguised his eye roll by pretending to scratch his temple. Luke saw the gesture and grinned.

This must be Mr. Responsibility, then. He did look pretty full of himself, Luke observed. His nametag was fastened securely to his blue vest-- Luke couldn’t read the name from this far away, but he did see that the guy had a set of keys, hanging from a lanyard around his neck. He stood with authority, but the fact that he looked about Luke’s age, and the fact that his professional facade was slipping so easily, made Luke feel like the whole “stern manager” shtick was just an act.

Luke picked up one of the magazines on the rack by the registers and pretended to leaf through it, so he could eavesdrop as the lady continued to tear into Mr. Responsibility. She said some intense-sounding stuff, like how she was going to call corporate, and she was going to complain to the manager-- “I am the manager,” the guy had replied contently-- and how she’d never shop there again. When she was finished, she stormed away, and Mr. Responsibility let out a huff.

His eyes once again found Luke, still laughing into the latest copy of National Inquirer. “Can I help you?” he asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Something about Mr. Responsibility made Luke want to joke around, a little bit. He didn’t know what kind of sense of humor the guy had-- but he’d just gotten annoyed at a customer with a coupon almost old enough to go to prom, so Luke couldn’t resist making some sort of comment. And besides, he reasoned, Reggie had sent him here to flirt with this guy. Go big or go home, right?

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve got a coupon from 2005-- will that work?”

“Do you need help finding something?” Mr. Responsibility asked, through gritted teeth.

“Relax...” Luke examined the boy’s name tag, fixed to the center of his blue vest. “Robert. I’m just asking a question. Where’s your sense of customer service?”

“It’s Bobby,” the boy grunted. “The name tag machine is broken so I can’t make a new one. Do you need help finding something?” he repeated. “Or were you just gonna hang out by the magazines, acting all suspicious?”

Luke grinned. “Sorry. I’m just messin’ with ya. Actually…” Maybe he should see what Bobby knew about the cashier that had stolen Reggie’s heart. That was the end goal of this mission, after all-- Operation Flirt Reggie’s Way Back Into The Grocery Store So He Can Sweep Attractive Cashier Girl Off Her Feet. (That name would definitely have to be reworked.)

“My friend-- great guy, real hopeless romantic-- was here earlier today,” Luke said. “He was trying to make this grand gesture to win over one of your cashiers, but he got kicked out before he could give her his number. You know who he meant?” Luke’s eyes trailed along the registers, trying to sense which girl Reggie had fallen for.

“Oh, yeah.” Bobby rolled his eyes. “The guy that defiled a perfectly good carton of chocolate milk. I told him to get lost.”

“I think that was quite unfair of you,” Luke said matter-of-factly. “Also not the type of customer service I’d expect from you-- maybe I should be the next call to corporate, right after Coupon Lady.”

“Yeah?” Bobby’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of service do you expect, then?”

“Well,” Luke started, putting the copy of National Inquirer back on the shelf, and leafing through the other options. “You were really good with Coupon Lady. Very professional. Very mature-sounding,” he crooned. “How come you can be nice to some customers, and not others?”

Bobby blinked rapidly-- he seemed unsure how to react to Luke’s compliments. “‘Coupon Lady’ wasn’t a hooligan drawing on milk.”

“Ooh, ‘hooligan’?” Luke repeated, grin forming across his face. “Fancy vocabulary you’ve got there. But I’m not just talking about Reggie.”

“What?” Bobby looked confused. “Who else, then? Was it another one of your friends who caused the spill in Aisle Five before?”

“No!” Luke rolled his eyes. “I meant me. I’m a paying customer, and you’re not being very accommodating.”

“I don’t see you paying for anything.” Bobby raised one eyebrow. “Actually, you reading that magazine without buying it first could be considered stealing.”

Luke winked at him. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of payment agreement.”

Bobby froze.

Luke was thoroughly enjoying Bobby’s reactions to his flirting-- plus, his satisfaction grew with the knowledge that he’d have Reggie back in the store in no time.

He ruffled his hair and gave Bobby his most persuasive smile. “Please tell me why you threw Reggie out of the store?” He batted his eyelashes, too, for dramatic effect.

Bobby blinked again, momentarily flustered. “Uh-- well… he was drawing on the milk carton! And he couldn’t explain why-- when I asked, he… he just kept going on about ‘the pretty self-checkout girl’.”

“There are lots of pretty people working here,” Luke commented. He maintained eye contact with the manager and watched his cheeks bloom fuschia.

Bobby opened and closed his mouth for a moment, struggling for words-- he looked kind of like a fish out of water, gasping for breath.

“Do you know who he was talking about?” Luke continued innocently.

Bobby swallowed, looking relieved that Luke had said something he could actually respond to. “He must’ve meant Kayla-- she’s in charge of that today.” He pointed to the self checkout lanes, where a pretty Asian girl stood behind a podium, scribbling onto a clipboard. Turning back to Luke, realizing the other boy’s eyes had never left him, he straightened up, fixing his shirt collar. “Tell your friend he’s got no shot, though. Kayla hasn’t said yes to a guy in months.”

“You don’t know Reggie,” Luke argued. “He can be very persuasive. He’s a real catch, too.”

“You trying to set your friend up with Kayla, or me?”

For some reason, Luke was enjoying pushing Bobby’s buttons. It wasn’t really like him to go around flirting with random grocery store workers-- but this was his mission, after all, and Bobby seemed like he really needed to loosen up a bit. And if there was one thing Luke was good at, it was making people forget about their responsibilities and do what he wanted. Reggie wasn’t the only one who could be persuasive.

“Definitely Kayla,” he said. “But, seriously, bro. Reggie totally didn’t mean to ‘defile’ your milk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still banned,” Bobby said. “Can I get back to work now?”

Luke reached out to stop Bobby from pushing past him. “Hey, wait.”

“Yes?”

Operation Get-Reggie-Back-Into-The-Grocery-Store was not going to plan. Luke took a deep breath; it was time to switch tactics.

“You know, Bobby, the way you handled Coupon Lady was pretty admirable,” Luke commented. “You’re a great manager.”

Bobby eyed Luke skeptically, taking in his tank top, his beanie, and the way he leaned precariously against the magazine stand, threatening to send it toppling over. But Luke kept a genuine-looking expression plastered on his face, and eventually Bobby’s ego gave in and he accepted the compliment. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Thanks.”

“How long’ve you been the manager, anyway?” Luke asked.

“I’m... actually the assistant manager,” Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. “That guy’s the manager.” He nodded to the wall in front of them, where there was a framed picture of an equally stuffy-looking man, wearing a tie. A plaque underneath the framed photo said “Walter, Store Manager.”

“Oooh, where’s your picture?” Luke teased.

“I-- I don’t have one,” Bobby stammered.

“That assistant manager promotion didn’t come with a framed photo?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “That’s a shame. Y’know, the store would look a lot better if it was you hanging up there instead of… Walter.”

“...You think?” Bobby puffed out his chest.

“Definitely,” Luke grinned. “I’d totally put a call in to the higher-ups about that one.”

There was a line building at the registers, now, but Bobby didn’t seem to notice. Luke could tell that the man was starting to warm up to him.

“So, anyway, Bobby… My friend Reggie’s really upset about not being allowed back in here,” Luke said with a sigh. “D’you think there’s anything we could do to un-ban him?”

“That depends…” Bobby started. “Is he gonna harass my cashiers if he’s allowed back?”

“Absolutely not,” Luke denied. “Reggie wouldn’t hurt a fly. Like I said before; total catch, remember?”

Bobby still hesitated.

“And maybe…” Luke suggested with a smirk, “maybe if he actually gets your self checkout girl’s attention, we could go on a double date sometime?”

Bobby gulped. There was a brief period of almost-awkward silence until…

“Y-yeah… yeah, maybe. Just-- just make sure he doesn’t write on any milk this time.”

Luke’s thousand-watt grin lit up his face once again. “I’m gonna need your number, if we’re going to make this happen.”

Bobby wiped his hands on his pants leg and took his cell phone out of the pocket of his vest. “Here.”

Luke tapped his number into Bobby’s phone, and saved his contact information under the name “Hooligan.” He passed the phone back to Bobby, still smiling.

Bobby glanced down at the phone screen, and finally rewarded Luke with his first laugh ever.

“Your turn,” Luke said, passing over his own phone. He watched Bobby type for a moment, and when he got the phone back, he saw that it said, “Customer Service.”

Luke stepped into Alex and Willie’s apartment with a smug grin plastered on his face. At his entry, Reggie hit pause on the movie-- which they had started without Luke-- and ran to meet him at the door. “Well? Am I in?”

“You’re in,” Luke laughed. “And if you really can sweep Kayla off her feet, we’ve got a double date.”

“Double date?” Willie asked. “You met someone at the grocery store, too?”

“Leave it to Luke,” Alex laughed. “Goes to get Reggie a girlfriend and comes back with a date of his own.”

“Turns out Operation Flirt With The Manager worked wonders,” he said. “His name’s Bobby.”

“See, Alex? I told you it was a good idea,” Reggie grinned. “I’m gonna go there right now-- gotta catch Dairy Cute before she leaves!”

“Her name’s Kayla!” Luke called after his friend, as he ran out the door.

Three weeks later, Reggie’s short-lived relationship with Kayla had fizzled out, but Luke and Bobby were still going strong.

They were sitting on the living room couch in Bobby’s apartment, on their fifth official date, having a movie marathon of their own.

“Hey, Bobby?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember when I said that it was unfair of you, banning Reggie from the store?”

“Yeah,” Bobby scoffed.

“Well, I was wrong,” Luke admitted. “I don’t actually blame you-- Reggie’s a total mess sometimes. I’d probably have banned him, too.”

Bobby laughed. “If he ever lets go of that grudge he still has on me, I might tell him you said that.”

“But… I’m actually kinda glad that he wrote on that milk carton,” he admitted. “‘Cause if he hadn’t, I probably never would’ve met you.”

“That’s dairy sappy of you, Wilson,” Luke smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Bobby replied. He pulled the other boy close, and connected Luke’s lips with his own.

#i feel like the ending of this is super rushed asdfglksd #but i hope you like it!!#thanks for the prompt!#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #lukebobby #lobby #luke patterson #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #chickwiththepurpleguitar

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Note

Steve accidentally summons his guardian demon who is determined to get Billy, Tommy, and him together. Except that every plan goes haywire.

i’m ready to weep. this is going to be fun.

===

Now. In his defense, he never thought it would actually work this time. Last time he hadn’t even gotten a peep from the answering service. Maybe it was just how desperate he was in the moment. Maybe whoever ran the demon summoning answering service took pity on him. But here it was, just as the little paper his mother had left him described.

It was eating his leftover pizza, “They sent me to deal with you because your last guardian is helping some lawyer stuck in an arson case. They haven’t given me a case in decades. Not since Lincoln at least, how long ago was that?” the thing laughed to itself and shoved another slice of olive and pepperoni in it’s gaping hole of a mouth. It was luminescent and dark emerald and it’s eyes were maroon orbs. Overall, less horrifying than he thought initially.

“Uh,” Steve stayed crouched behind the kitchen island and cleared his throat, “A long time. Wha— What’s your name again?”

The thing closed the fridge door too hard and it shook, “I didn’t say,” it traveled through the island with it’s hands behind its back, “I’m Eric.”

Steve blinked and stood up, “...Eric?”

It grinned and it’s crooked teeth showed, “Don’t act so perplexed, I’m trying to fit in on this realm.”

“Just seems very,” Steve watched as it drifted over to the phone in the wall, “Boring?” If Steve had to describe it’s reaction he’d say it was pouting.

“I thought it was classy,” Eric whined.

Steve blinked a few times and when the demon didn’t make another move he laughed nervously, “I mean, it’s nice. I guess I’m just really bad at meeting people, uh, ones of your...kind.”

Eric smiled wider than Steve thought was possible by any imagine, “Good. Now it’s time we figure out how to fix your problem.” There was suddenly a notepad in Eric’s pointy fingers, “When did your uneasiness begin?”

“What?”

The orbs circulated, “When did you start feeling down? Why’d you call? You know our customer service sucks down there.”

Steve pinched his brows together as he considered, “I guess when Nancy and I broke up and then Dustin went off to camp. I’ve been lonely.”

Eric’s shadow of a head nodded sympathetically, “Nothing will dust a man’s character away more than loneliness. Well, who are we looking for here. I’ll need to follow you around for a day to see who we can work with.” Before Steve could respond the thing started moving towards him, “I’ll just attach to your shadow for now and then later we’ll reconvene.” Before Steve could agree, Eric was gone into the shadows of the evening.

“Well okay,” he threw his hands up and went upstairs to prepare for work.

===

Tommy came into Scoops Ahoy that day and Steve immediately felt a tingle to his toes and fingertips. Eric appeared behind his old friend as he surveyed the display.

“This one is cute,” he said and floated around Tommy. Who scratched his cheek unbeknownst.

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed through clenched teeth.

Tommy startled and Eric looked on amused, “Uh, looking at the options?” He stared as Steve flushed in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Steve explained quietly, “Robin, you’re on!” he turned and fleed quickly.

“Wa—“ Tommy’s voice was cut off by the door and Robin looked up from her novel.

“Dingus, I still have ten minutes,” she kept her place with a finger as she slowly shut the book. Steve rushed forward and sat in a chair, Eric right by Robin’s side, taking her in.

“I know,” he linked his hands together, “And I’ll give you another fifteen if you just take this one. Please?” he begged.

Eric’s eyes rolled again, “Way to stand tall, Steve.” Steve glared at him and Robin raised her brows.

“Okay,” she said longly, “Don’t give yourself a migraine now, Steve,” she laid her book down and headed out. “Welcome to Scoop Aho—” her voice closed out as the door shut.

Eric took her seat, “Now how are you supposed to land the boy if you won’t even face the boy?”

Steve reminded himself to keep his voice down, “Because it won’t work. So leave him out of this.”

Eric groaned obnoxiously, “But he’s our answer. He’s your answer and I have a cat to feed back in my realm so we have to hurry this up!”

Steve glared, “And how do you suppose we do that?”

Eric did that grin again, “We tune into that boy you were in high school, Harrington. And we knock ‘em off their feet.”

Just then Robin stormed back in with her hair practically on end, “Harrington, I’m not dealing with both those assholes at the same time. Take your fifteen minutes, shove it, and get your butt out there now.” One look at Robin and one glance at Eric’s smug drift towards the door and Steve was out of the break room regrettably.

“Ahoy!” he faked his best customer service smile. Billy Hargrove’s smirk reminded him too clearly of Eric, who was of course floating around the two males on the other side of the counter.

“Handsome, love that he’s blond, haven’t seen such a monstrosity in a while—” Steve bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

“Cute, Harrington, nice shorts,” he leaned forward a little and looked at Steve’s lower half.

“Fruity too,” Eric sat on the counter.

Steve’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat, “Right, well, what can you I get for you two?”

Tommy settled an elbow against the counter and grinned cutely, “Hargrove here got a job at the pool so we’d like something,” he licked his lips, “Sweet.”

Billy nodded slowly and shifted the sunglasses on top of his head, “I’ll take pistachio.”

“Sweet cream and cookies for me, Stevie,” Tommy added.

Eric looked between the three of them, “All three of you? Kittymuffins can wait!” Steve ignored him and went over to the ice box, taking a scooper and a cone and bending inside uncomfortably to scoop from the green bucket.

Eric spoke from behind him, “They’re checking your ass out.” Steve sputtered and moved to get up. But he ended up smacking his head against the upper part of the glass.

“Shit!” he yelped in pain and stumbled back and then fell onto the ground after tripping on the fallen scoop. He hit his nose against the floor and felt a shock of pain. “Ow, shit, holy—”

“Steve?” he heard three voices shout.

“Oh my God!” Robin exclaimed and all of a sudden six arms where assisting him up from where he was on his knees gripping the counter desperately.

“He’s got a bloody nose,” Billy took over and picked Steve up and onto the counter. Steve blinked slowly and tried to catch up. Billy picked him up. “Pretty Boy, that was the most tragic thing I’ve even witnessed,” he said teasingly and bunched up napkins to Steve’s nose. “Keep your head level,” he ordered when Steve moved to tilt it back. “Good,” he commented.

Robin sighed, “I’m going to have to shut the shop down to clean this up. There’s blood on the glass, Steve. How?”

“Sorry,” Steve said weakly.

Tommy’s face made it’s way to Steve’s sight suddenly, “We can take him home.”

“Yes,” Eric agreed.

“No!” Steve refused and then felt guilty when Billy and Tommy looked embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve got it, I’ll go home and ice my head and nose. I’ll take some aspirin. And then I’ll come back for the rest of the night shift,” he told Robin. He stood up and ignored Eric shaking it’s head, “Thank you, guys. I’m fine. Really,” he addressed them each, “Thank you.”

“Uh,” Robin looked at Billy and Tommy uncertainly, “That’s fine I guess.”

“Thanks,” he said and rushed into the back room.

“You’re an idiot,” Eric crossed it’s arms.

“I know.”

===

Steve was at the store. He ran out of bread and he really wanted cookie dough ice cream. And just to his luck Tommy Hagan happened to stock shelves.

Eric spotted him first, “Oh!” he cheered and pointed with his emerald fingers, “It’s that freckle boy!”

“Hey, Steve!” Tommy walked over after setting down a crate of wheat loafs. “How’s your nose,” he examined Steve’s face as he walked closer. He laughed nervously and Eric snapped his fingers warningly.

“Much better,” Steve smiled.

“Billy’s pretty useful with all that training,” Tommy’s eyes softened.

“He sure is,” Steve nodded, “Could’ve used it the night he beat me up,” he chuckled unsurely. Eric face palmed.

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy looked down at his feet ashamed. “He’s sorry about that you know,” Tommy lifted up hurriedly. “He kicks himself for it all the time.”

Steve smiled and swung the bread gripped in his hand back and forth, “Really? How come he’s never said anything to me then?”

Tommy stubbed his toe into the floor, “He just didn’t want to overcrowd you too soon. And then he lost all the confidence to go through with it.”

“Steve,” Eric waved in front of his face, “Make a move. He obviously likes you, make your damn move and then we’ll land the other one!”

Steve panicked, “O-Oh, yeah, that’s nice. Hey, would you like to go to Bob’s for dinner sometimes this week?” Eric clapped and nodded approvingly.

Tommy grew excited, “I’m actually going there with Billy on Sunday—”

“Oh,” Steve sighed and smiled disappointedly, “Well, see you around then,” he waved and turned the corner as Tommy stayed stranded with his mouth open.

“Steven!” Eric scolded as Steve speeded to the frozen section, “What was that?” he screeched.

“I don’t want to intrude on them,” Steve muttered. A lady watched him worriedly as he grabbed a gallon of ice cream from the freezer and ran.

“You’re hopeless, Harrington,” Eric floated on his back and then disappeared.

“I know.”

===

Eric convinced him to go to the pool during the heatwave. It started out fine. Until Billy strutted out and climb up to the lifeguard seat.

Steve actually groaned, “Why does he have to look like that?” His head hit the back of the chair as he draped himself helplessly.

Eric sipped from his self produced margarita glass, “You love it though.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m going to get a drink,” he eyed the soda machine on the other side of the pool and walked over. He felt kind of bare in just his blue swim trucks. It’d been a while.

“Hey, Steve!” Billy called down and waved with a flashy smile. Steve halted quickly to smile and wave back. Some kid also decided to run into the pool right as Steve stopped, pushing him in the pool. And Steve may have been a swimmer for a few years in middle school. But he hated pools after the whole Barb disappearance. All his experience left him in that moment.

He was underwater and everything was so quiet. Quiet and dark and soft. Sure there was a sting from the surface of the water but he kind of just forgot that the surface was a thing and when he looked down he saw monsters. Dark shadows against the pale floor. Then arms were wrapped around him and air was gasped into his lungs. He was lifted up onto the spiky concrete and he laid on his stomach as he caught his breath.

“Hey, hey!” Billy yelled, “Get back, and you! You’re banned, get out now! Before I knock you one.” he sounded livid. Steve blinked and then he saw Billy overtop of him, speaking much kinder. “Hey, man, sit up. Yeah,” he encouraged as Steve coughed more and sat upright, “Perfect. You alright?” Steve nodded and gave a shaky thumbs up.

Billy helped him up and Eric appeared over his shoulder, “You should’ve faked drowning so you’d get his lips on ya.” Steve groaned again and leaned his forehead against his knees. “Do you want me to bring through some wind to fix your hair?”

Steve sighed, “No,” he mumbled.

“You’re not?” Billy asked concernedly and put a hand on his back. “I can take you out back and have Heather take over.”

Steve looked up quick, “What? Oh, no, she deserves her break,” he chuckled, nervous and sore. “I’m fine. She had to deal with some kid dropping his popsicle in the pool. Who knew kids took cooties so nervously.” He smiled and started to get up, “I should probably go anyway.”

Billy kept his hand against Steve’s back and placed another on his shoulder soothingly, “You sure? I can drive you home if you want.”

Steve patted Billy’s arm, “I’m fine. Thank you, Hargrove, I appreciate it.”

Billy smiled softly, suddenly distracted as he stared at Steve, “Just doing my job.” Steve said goodbye and slowly made his way back to his car shivering. He was at the gate when a towel was suddenly strewn over his shoulders. Steve twirled around in a stagger to find Billy gleaming with a light sheen of sweat.

“Sorry, just thought you’d be better without a cold later,” he closed the gap of towel on Steve’s chest.

Steve laughed a little hysterically and hugged him, “Thanks, Billy.” He stepped away and went through the gate. Eric reappeared, smirking and Steve sighed as he finally gave in. “He still looking?”

“Yep. The water is making your suit stick to your ass.”

“Perfect.”

===

Eric sat with him on a bench in the mall, “Maybe you still have hope.” A kid ran by and Steve moved his feet in from their sprawled position.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “They both have probably gotten together and given up on my dumb ass.” Eric nodded and when Steve stared at it unimpressed it smiled apologetically. Steve shook his head and sunk his shoulders more. “Whatever. What if I just relieve you of your duty and you go home to Fluffymittens or whatever.”

Eric coughed offendedly, “Her name is Kittymuffins. And who’s to say? Maybe today will even be the day, ‘cause they’re over by Scoops now.” It pointed over and Steve followed just to see Tommy and Billy arguing just outside the doorway of his very own workplace.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Steve whispered.

“You,” Eric answered, “Tommy doesn’t want to push you but Billy thinks it’s time they tell you their plan.”

Steve asked perplexed, “Plan?”

Eric nodded, “They want to make you dinner and then get in your pants.”

He stood up and shook his head, “You’re so crude.”

Eric followed, “It’s basically the rundown.” Steve shook his head and grinned openly when the two men noticed him and turned to greet with big smiles in return.

“Hey, guys,” Steve brushed his hair back with a clawed hand, “What can I do you for?” Billy giggled and Tommy smiled before rolling his eyes and smacking Billy’s arm.

“Hey, Steve, we were just talking about you,” Tommy said.

“I know,” he smiled as both of them looked panicked. “How about you two come to my place tonight and we’ll talk about it then?”

Eric laughed beside him, “That’s my boy!”

The two of them looked a little shocked, “Uh, sure,” Tommy nodded slowly and smiled widely.

Billy’s smile was curved and his eyes glimmered proudly, “Told you so, Toms.”

Steve bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth sultrily as he admired their pink cheeks with a grin of his own, “See you later boys,” he wiggled his fingers at them.

Eric floated with him as he made his way back to the break room, “Do you need my help with dinner?”

“Nah, you can get back to Kittymittens.” He closed the door just as Eric gave one final applaud.

#steve harrington #tommy hagan #billy hargrove #kegboys #i wouldn’t say this was thoroughly edited

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hailbop1701 · 3 years

Text

25 Days of FicMas

December 17th prompt: Christmas shopping with a stranger (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2,154

Toy Shop Terror

Okay so this one is much lighter and fluffier than yesterday's prompt! They're not really together when shopping but this is what I came up with! I hope y'all like it!

-H❤🖖

Leonard McCoy ran a hand through his hair frantically; he was in the corner of a crowded toy store on Christmas eve looking for the “Harry Potter” section. Leonard marveled at how people were going completely insane over something their child will most likely play with for a week or two. Shaking his head he bobbed and weaved through the mass of angry, hurried customers keeping an eye for the isle he needed. Spotting the large sign Leonard ducked into the aisle to find it torn apart, “oh these poor workers,” he muttered eyes wide. Toys and merchandise lay scattered over the almost barren shelves and littered the floor. Stepping over large cardboard boxes that once held said merchandise Leonard groaned in frustration, “damnit!” he cursed, voice a deep growl. A loud shriek made him quickly lookup; he saw a pretty young woman stumble into the aisle clutching onto a stuffed panda bear like it was a lifeline, “same to you pal!” you shouted flipping off the man that shoved you out of the way. The gesture was reciprocated. Scowling you examined the bear carefully, searching for rips or tears. When you felt it was in okay condition you finally looked up to see him there with an amused expression on his face. “Some people,” you chuckled nervously, waving the bear around. You took note of the shelves Leonard was standing in front of and winced sympathetically. “Oh, Harry Potter that's tough, I’m sorry,” you grimaced at the state of things; Leonard huffed in agreement, “my daughter has been begging for the books for a while and I’ve been looking everywhere for the box set,” he muttered hand going through his already messed up hair again.

“Well I wish you the best of luck, god knows you’re gonna need it,” you said with a dry laugh. You looked around, clearing your throat you bit your lip, “have uh you seen the electronic section?” Leonard raised an eyebrow and pointed a thumb toward the back of the store, his own look of sympathy crossing his face. “Fuck, okay. Stupid drone is gonna be the death of me. Good luck and may the odds ever be in your favor, wait wrong series…” you trailed off scrunching up your face in thought. Leonard couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics; giving him a cheeky smile you gave him a two-fingered salute and dove back into the crowd. ‘What a strange woman,’ he thought with a crooked smile.

Sighing Leonard looked back at the barren shelves with slumped shoulders, “Maybe I should look for something else,” he murmured almost missing the sound of his phone ringing. Pulling the object Leonard looked at the caller ID, “I can’t talk now Jim,” he answered pressing a finger to his opposite ear. A faint voice whined from the other end of the call, “no I haven’t found it yet and I honestly don’t think I will. I knew I should have just ordered it off of-no, and no you can’t, that’s-I don’t care. Jim as your best friend I advise you that hitting on my sister is bad for your health," Leonard hung up the call and swiftly inserted himself into the crowd of shoppers.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

You bit your lip as you precariously balanced on some empty shelves hoping to peek over the throng of people. Your hunt for the drone your nephew had been begging for all year was nowhere to be found. Scanning over the crowd with a deep scowl on your face something caught your eye, a much older looking woman clutched three distinct green boxes to her chest. “Oh not today Brenda,” you growled the image of the cute forlorn father popping into your mind. You smirked at the thought of the guy, ‘I’m allowed. He had no ring…' your mind wandered as you pushed and shoved your way through shoppers. Scooping up an opened ‘Nerf Gun’ you cocked it and fired. The foam bullets bounced off of the woman’s head causing her to turn every which way. She screamed startled when one stuck itself to her coke bottle glasses. While she was distracted you slipped past sneakily grabbing one of the boxes from her stack. “Manager!” you heard her howl, glancing over your shoulder you grinned as no one bothered to give her a second glance. Whistling you tossed the plastic gun into a bin and held the box of books to your chest with the panda bear for your baby niece hanging from your fingers. “Now where is Mr. cute butt at…” you hummed thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the store, McCoy stared at a mass of stuffed animals and to his complete amazement, a pristine box holding a remote control drone sat amongst the bears, unicorns, and oddly enough poop pillows. Blinking he picked up the box, his mind drifting back to you. “Hold on to that tight man, last one!” an employee called to him as he passed. Holding the box closer Leonard eyed the people watching with envy as he walked by, “Alright darlin’ maybe I didn’t get what I came here for but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer,” he drawled searching for you in every aisle. Not looking where he was going he slammed into something small, it squeaked indignantly and he quickly grabbed the person steadying them. “Hey!” you both exclaimed with wide smiles.

You held up the Harry Potter box set proudly and Leonard practically sagged in relief, “did you-how-” he laughed in shock. You chuckled looking mildly guilty, “don’t ask and you won’t be implicated,” you whispered which made Leonard raise a single eyebrow. Instead of commenting, he held up the drone you were searching for, making you squeal in delight. You bounced on your feet as you exchanged items, “Thank you!” you gasped looking at the drone eyes sparkling, “My nephew is gonna die!” thinking for a second you held out your hand, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),”

Leonard couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he grasped your tiny hand in his much bigger one, “Leonard McCoy, at your service ma’am.” he replied smoothly. Happening to glance over Leonard’s shoulder you spotted the ‘Harry Potter’ hoarder from earlier nerf bullet still stuck to her glasses. Blanching you clutched onto Leonards’s hand tighter before turning around and running off pulling the confused man behind you, “move it McCoy unless you want to give up the books!” you yelped shoving people out of the way. Leonard was suddenly ahead of you now pulling you easily through the hoard of people toward the check out area. You stumbled a few times with him being a bit taller and faster than you, “whoa cowboy!”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“I can’t believe you did that to get this,” Leonard barked out laughing, his shoulders shook as he sat across from you. You snickered munching on a french fry, “she had like three. I did her a favor those books were like a hundred and fifty a pop,” you muttered picking up your soda glass. Leonard smirked, “believe me darlin’ I know,” he huffed with a shake of his head. “Your daughter is lucky to have a dad like you,” you beamed at him picking up another fry from the basket you both were sharing. “I mean not many parents would be in a toy store on Christmas eve,” you said with a smirk. Leonard looked out the window of the little diner you had ducked into. Red tinted his cheeks and the tops of his ears, he shrugged after a minute, “She’s my world, there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for her,” he said looking back at you. He grabbed a french fry, “You visiting Georgia for the Holidays?” he inquired popping the potato into his mouth. Taking a sip of soda you nodded, “Yeah though not for long. I’ll be moving here pretty soon,” you grinned. “Oh really, where are you comin’ from?” Leonard asked eyes lighting up thrilled at the prospect of you living in Georgia, “Seattle, I’m a paramedic,” you said with a smile.

The conversation flowed easily; jumping from topic to topic. Leonard talked about how he was a doctor at Atlanta General and then you told him about the adventures from your profession. It would have flowed endlessly but the waitress walked over to your table saying that they were closing up soon; she smiled prettily at Leonard hoping he would take notice but he simply gave her a polite smile and paid for the meal.

Once the bill was paid and a generous tip was left Leonard helped you into your jacket. He grabbed both your bags and he shot down your protests. Walking to the door you were about to open it when he beat you to it. “And they said chivalry is dead,” you murmured with a crooked smile. “Sweetheart my momma would kill me if I didn’t treat you like a lady,” McCoy flirted as he walked you to your car. "Your mom is a smart woman," you chuckled. You took the shopping bags from Leonard and stowed them away into the trunk of your rental, turning you held out your hand “Lemme see your phone,” you giggled when he gave a confused look. He wordlessly handed it to you and watched as you added your number to his contact information. Taking a picture of yourself you saved it as one of his favorites before giving it back. “There now you can get ahold of me, you know in case you need help getting the Hunger Games or something. Though I don’t think the Brenda's of the world would appreciate it,” you grinned. Leonard snorted a laugh as he pocketed his phone again, “Okay Katniss,” he sassed opening your car door. Your grin grew bigger, “Doctor I am impressed,” you gasped placing a hand over your heart dramatically. McCoy’s laugh echoed across the almost empty parking lot; getting in the car you shut the door and started the engine quickly so you could roll down the window. “Well my girl likes books so I’ve been kept up to date on her latest favorites,” he said leaning down resting his forearm just above the window. “She sounds like an amazing girl,” you whispered with a soft smile, Leonard’s dark hazel eyes twinkled in the street light you were parked under. “She truly is,” he murmured back. The air became thick and full of something you couldn’t place, Leonard cleared his throat leaning back. “You should get going, your family is going to worry,” he sighed not wanting to see you go. Your smile turned sad, “Yeah my brother will have a fit,” you agreed, glaring at the car's dash clock. You said your "Goodbyes" and you were soon on your way back to your brother’s home with a lot of things on your mind; a handsome doctor being one of them.

The very next day you sat on your bedroom floor with a slew of presents waiting to be wrapped. Grumbling to yourself you struggled and fought with the wrapping paper, “Fold damnit!” you growled, voice muffled by the disposable tape dispenser in between your teeth. Your phone began to vibrate on the floor causing it to skitter in place, cursing you held the paper in place with one hand while the other grabbed the device. “H’lo,” your voice was muffled again. Rolling your eyes at your own stupidity you spat out the tape and tried again, “hello?” there was a deep chuckle from the other end. “(Y/N) it’s Leonard,” you sat up straighter a smile spreading across your face. “Len hey!” you greeted voice light, “I was wondering what your plans are for New Year’s Eve?” Leonard asked sounding nervous. ‘My god he’s adorable,’ you thought dreamily, “I’m not doing much just packing to head back to Seattle so I can then pack again to head back here,” you chuckled and facepalmed due to your ‘lameness,’

“I was uh- wonderin’ if you’d like to spend the day with me?” he asked making you scream internally, “Yeah I would love to,” you said hoping to not sound desperate. You heard a whispered voice in the background, “awesome Bones!” it said encouragingly. You bit your lip to keep from snickering. “I- uh that’s great! I’ll message you the details in a little bit!” Leonard said clearly smiling. “Daddy, can you help me with my braid?” the voice of a little girl hit your ear. ‘That must be Joanna,’ your heart warmed, “I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon,” Leonard promised lowly making you chuckle. “Okay Len, talk to you then,” you set your phone down and took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to really like it here,” you murmured to the butterflies fluttering around in your chest and stomach.

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

#star trek aos #star trek aos modern-day Au #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #jim kirk #reader insert #25 days of ficmas #hailey the queen of typos #I shouldn't be allowed to write endings 🤦‍♀️

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pineapplesagainstpizza · 4 years

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Magnus Pies: A TMA Pizza AU

- All the entities and supernatural creatures still exist but it happens in a pizza place called the “Magnus Pies ®” established by Jonah Magnus.

- Jon is the new, under qualified manger. Very good a diffusing arguments and misinformation with customers. Practically a living coupon fraud detector. Once Martin overheard Jon use the phrase “please calm down” to a customer. Thinking that this would escalate the conversation, Martin braced himself from the kitchen. He was spooked quite a bit that the customer did calm down. He can’t tell if Jon is just that charming or if he can hypnotize people.

- Jon actually had some sliver of respect for Martin when they first met. Up until, he caught Martin whispering "Looking good little guys" to the pizzas baking in the oven. Jon has never looked at him the same since.

- Martin has mastered the customer service voice. In fact, it’s permanent. Every time he answers the phone, his voice automatically sweetens. Sasha and Tim have made fun of him for it. Working at Magnus Pies has broken him so much.

- Tim works the register. Flirts with customers so that they’ll come back. Can’t stand slow days. It’s actually Tim that makes the best pizza out of the crew.

- Ft. Sasha the pizza delivery girl. Eldritch horrors won’t stop her from delivering your pizza on time.

- Elias is the owner and hardly ever shows up.

- Instead of statement givers the customers will just overshare their supernatural encounters to the staff. Jon doesn’t think anything of people sharing their ghost stories to him. He writes it off as desperate customers craving any source of human interaction. Despite this, he remembers every tale a customer has told him.

- “Then after I kissed him, his body combusted into flames.”

“Sorry to hear that... That will be 17.89. ″

- There’s this one customer that orders questionable pizzas with special delivery instructions and has his pizza delivery scheduled every Wednesday at 5 pm. His requests went from a little strange to down right outlandish. One of his first orders, he instructed them to make a smiley face out of the pepperonis because he was “having a bad day.” One of his most recent orders was “a cheese-less pizza cheese pizza.” In the delivery instructions, he explains his doorbell is broken and suggests the delivery person to drop the pizza off in the middle of the yard and then “yell whatever feels right” to alert him of the pizza’s presence. Sasha often wonders if she has to cater to all his odd demands.

- The first time Sasha delivers to his house, the GPS malfunctioned? The customer’s house resides in a new residential area. So once she drove past the last known road, the GPS advised her to park her car and walk to her destination. She obviously ignored the computer automated voice and eventually found the house on her own. Since he always commands the delivery runner to drop the pizza outside his house, Sasha has never seen his face but the name he orders under is Micheal. (If that’s even his real name.)

- Is the pizza good? The reviews are mixed. Martin says “its fine”. Sasha thinks “it’s pretty good for the price.” Tim, on the other hand, is fully convinced that when Jonah Magnus created Magnus pizza, he had never eaten a pizza before in his life. He claims "the pizza is two hell circles away from mediocrity." If a person asked Elias, he would maintain that Magnus Pie pizza is of high quality, but the staff have never seen him eaten it before. As for Jon, he refuses to try it.

- The uniforms are pretty cute. A transparent green tennis visor paired with a black collared shirt with logo on the right upper chest portion.

- This one time, someone spray painted a satanic circle in the parking lot and Elias botched and moaned about it for a week about how "it was driving customers away." He stops complaining about it after an angry goth boxed an old man on top of the circle one afternoon. Their fight drove in a crowd. Some people even bought a slice just to get a good view of the fight. Jon, of course, called the authorities but both parties fled before they arrived.

- Martin finds a homemade employee training tape from the 1980s hiding in the closet. It features an instructional video on how to make the pizzas but the employee or paid actress?? featured in the video disregards Magnus Pies’s official pizza guidelines™ and instead gives advice/ tips on how to cut corners (and arguably offers more valuable advice to employees). “Yeah I know the recipe calls for this much cheese but i always add to more handfuls. Most customers complain about how there isn’t nearly enough cheese -- how it’s practically tomato sauce with cheese sprinkles.” Whether it’s the dread in the lady’s eyes or the neglect of company policies, the tape is unfinished. The video cuts off after she places the pizza in the oven.

- Martin thinks the the training video is hilarious, so of course, he shares it with the rest of the staff. It’s Sasha that points out that one of the employees in the background looks like a younger version of Elias. A passionate debate breaks out on whether that person is actually Elias, but ends once Jon points out that Elias has complete heterochromia and the teenage boy in the video does not.

- On a team building trip, Martin, Sasha, and Tim admit that they are glad Jon joined the team. Ever since he joined, the workplace has never been so lively. They all agree Jon’s presence attracts the unusual. Though he will never admit it, Jon found it touching.

- Some customers would describe the pizza joint as “eerily clean.” "The vibes are simply rancid” says one customer. Even with the speaker churning out today’s hottest pop hits (in a muffled tone), it is entirely too quiet. The atmosphere is dead,” says another.

- “Little human activity and huge open spaces makes it somewhat spectral but the short wait times and fair food always brings me back. ⭐⭐⭐” - a google review from a town local

- One person gave them a bad review on Yelp. After they were done insulting the food, they moved on to assess the staff. “I’m usually not the type to complain/nit pick about employees but there was one that made me extremely uncomfortable. He wasn’t the warmest person, had an awfully posh accent, and sported dark circles under his eyes. When I spoke to him, his gaze was intense and unwavering. Throughout the entire conversation, he didn’t blink once. Even as a sat down, I could still feel his eyes lingering on me. I’m not an insecure person in the slightest but being watched like that, made me self conscious of my own breathing. I spun around once to see if he was staring at me, but to my surprise, he wasn’t. I may have never caught him staring at me, but I know he did. The sensation of being watched never ceased afterward. (half star emoji) ”

- Apparently, the joint has been open since the 1940s and despite the bad food and less than average traffic of customers, they’re still in business. There’s rumors that the Magnus Pie receives generous donations from Elias’s rich ex-lover that misses him dearly.

- Starring several disagreements/ arguments with customers. Just a bunch of misinformation that was spread by Elias to lure people into the building to feed the Eye.

- Sasha is late returning from a delivery one day, and after an hour they try to contact her. She’s unresponsive. Elias goes looking for her but comes back short. Later that night, they get a call from the hospital informing them that Sasha got into a car accident and fell unconscious upon impact. Sasha comes in for a shift a few weeks later, and nobody realizes she’s not Sasha.

- The Magnus Pies’s odd reputation attracts the attention of popular YouTuber, Melanie King. She eventually becomes a regular in hopes of catching a supernatural event on camera for her channel. After experiencing a handful of odd encounters, she becomes engrossed by the place and starts working there in hopes of piecing together an explanation for the pizzeria’s paranormal activities. She later regrets this.

- has the potential to be a good tragicomedy

#and maybe perhaps all the characters are aged down just a little #can you tell i've got a thing for fast food AUs #this is obviously based off of some of my experiences #tma #the magnus archives #magnus pod #tma au #crack au?? but also not #but imagine the magnus archives as a slice of life horror comedy

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【掌中流光】 Xia Yan’s Light in Palms Date Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1nX4y1u7XA/

Because the timing of this date story is New Year’s Eve, I aimed to have it finished and posted for today (i.e. our New Year’s Eve). Happy New Year, everyone! Hoping that 2021 will be much better!

PART 1

Xia Yan’s House

Today was the last day on the calendar.

As the first New Year’s Eve after my reunion with Xia Yan, we had originally made a chock-full travel plan - but before we were about to set out, Xia Yan suddenly received a command to return to the capital, and didn’t return until last night. Because I didn’t want Xia Yan to be travel-worn again, I decided on staying at home for a leisurely New Year’s Eve – a day spent playing games! A night spent feasting! Going at zero-o’clock to see the New Year’s Eve fireworks show!

Although, when we put this “Leisurely New Year’s Eve Plan” into action, it wasn’t very leisurely…

Xia Yan: Right side! The enemy went over there!

MC: Where where?! I can’t see it!

In a panic, I manipulated the video game controller to adjust my viewing angle, but I didn’t see anything at all.

Bang bang bang— A barrage of gunshot sounds suddenly started. My blood meter started losing blood crazily, just like a water pipe that had exploded.

MC: Ahhh! My blood meter’s in the red!

Xia Yan: Give it to me!

I immediately stuffed the controller into Xia Yan’s hands, but he hadn’t even received it firmly when my view went grey. My character had fallen in battle.

MC: …

MC: This is too much…

Xia Yan and I attempted to refresh our save points from eight years ago. We were clearly able to co-op smoothly before, with flashing lights announcing our clears, yet we were actually on a losing streak today! Discouraged, I threw aside the controller, then reclined backwards into the beanbag chair.

Xia Yan: Don’t be discouraged – we haven’t played this for several years. It’s natural to be out of practice.

Xia Yan: How about we go through our save points for the casual games?

MC: That’s fine… I need to play some easy, refreshing casual games to restore my spirit.

Xia Yan: Then you can go ahead and pick a game. I’ll go wash some apples – after eating them, we’ll play!

MC: Mhmm!

While Xia Yan washed the apples, I flipped through his box of game hard drives.

MC: Xia Yan – why are there only a little over ten games in your box? What about the others?

Xia Yan: There in the other box, on the shelf on the right side of the computer – feel free to look there.

I searched in the spot that Xia Yan had mentioned. Sure enough, I noticed several boxes - the box in the corner of the lowest shelf looked particularly exquisite. Looking at the dust that had accumulated on the wood box, it had been placed there for at least several months.

MC: This box is so pretty… and it’s fairly heavy!

I carefully took the box and opened the lid – there was a bottle of sealed foreign liquor inside. The transparent glass in a rectangular column shape was filled with an amber liquid and the yellowing wine label on the bottle had English and numbers handwritten on it.

MC: Why is the wine label handwritten? “Whisky”… it’s whiskey, right?

There was also a note beside the wine bottle. The paper had a firm texture, with a tall-stemmed wineglass and a curlicue letter “L” stamped at the top. There was neat, beautiful handwriting on the memo – looking at the writing, it was written by the same writer of the wine label. “Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist. – Bar L”

MC: (Is there some implication of this specific phrase being written?)

I had sunken into thought while looking at the memo. By then, Xia Yan had already returned, carrying the plate of washed apples. He saw the whiskey in the wooden box and froze somewhat.

MC: Xia Yan, why did you keep a bottle of whiskey? Do you like drinking whiskey?

MC: Is “Bar L” the name of a bar? They even gave you a note in here – are you a frequent customer there?

Xia Yan: To understand a city, the easiest way is to take a seat in the bars of the city.

Xia Yan: Plus, bars are the gathering places of all sorts of information. Of course I’ll go to bars often, to collect some information.

MC: So this bar is the one you go to most often?

Xia Yan: It’s one of them.

Xia Yan looked towards that bottle of whiskey.

Xia Yan: At the beginning of the year, I helped out at Bar L as a bartender because of a commission.

Xia Yan: The bar owner’s a great person and took great care of me. This bottle of whiskey that he brewed himself is a gift he sent me.

MC: So that’s how it is. But why didn’t you bring up before about how you even know how to bartend?

After Xia Yan returned, he’d already told me told me a lot of matters that didn’t involve “secrets”, but I’ve never heard him bring up this bartending matter back then.

Xia Yan: Hm? There’s nothing special about bartending – it’s not worth bringing up.

MC: ???

MC: What about it isn’t special? What about it isn’t worth bringing up?!

I was absolutely speechless. I really wanted to know what Xia Yan was like when he was a bartender and what kind of situations he encountered in the bar, but as far as I could see, Xia Yan still had a confused look all over his face – so I decided to find another way.

MC: Xia Yan, could you take me to hang out at Bar L?

Xia Yan: Ah?

MC: I heard that on the night of New Year’s Eve, there will be really interesting events in bars. I want to go see.

MC: Plus, it’s almost the New Year.

MC: Since the owner of this bar took care of you before, we should also say hi to him and send our respects.

Xia Yan: That’s true. The owner has also recently called me to come hang out when I had time.

Xia Yan: Then let’s go.

Commerce Street

With the hues of evening all around, the commerce street, hung full of holiday lanterns, was neon with multiple colors. On the corner of the street, a heavy oak door was hidden under the shade of a tree. A relief sculpture of a wineglass pattern and a curlicue letter “L” were on the door.

Xia Yan: Here it is – we’ve arrived.

MC: It has a major “hidden in the city” feel to it.

I looked at the oak door in front of me, feeling more and more expectant.

MC: (It’s said that bars are the gathering place of stories…)

MC: (I’ll definitely be able to hear about lots of stories about when Xia Yan was a bartender.)

I wanted to know those people Xia Yan had known and hear them talk about Xia Yan-related things. After all, those people there just might know a lot about those little matters that Xia Yan considered not worth bringing up.

But nothing is not worth bringing up.

I wanted to make up for all the stories about Xia Yan in those lost eight years.

PART 2

Bar L

When Xia Yan and I entered Bar L, they had just started operating for the night – there weren’t any guests. Under the gentle lights, the tables and chairs made from logs seemed to exude the gentleness of a past era. Xia Yan closed the entrance’s oak door, cutting off the moment of hustle and bustle from the street.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve come to bother you.

Uncle Chen: It’s Little Xia! Welcome, welcome.

A bartender standing inside the bar counter nodded and smiled at us. He looked like he was around 40 years old, with a face and voice that were equally gentle. After Xia Yan and I arrived at and sat down in front of the counter, Xia Yan did a simple introduction for us.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen is the owner and bartender of Bar L. His bartending techniques and wine brewing techniques are incredibly amazing.

Xia Yan: My bottle of whiskey was brewed by Uncle Chen himself.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, can we pass the New Year’s Eve at your place here?

Uncle Chen: Haha, of course.

Uncle Chen: The guests for tonight will definitely be very happy to be able to see the “Bartender Detective” again.

MC: “Bartender Detective”?

Xia Yan: It’s what the guests jokingly call me, because in addition to my bartending, sometimes I’ll do some simple detective work for guests.

Looking at my responseless look, Uncle Chen helplessly laughed and shook his head.

Uncle Chen: This explanation isn’t exact enough.

Uncle Chen: Providing detective services simultaneously with his bartending isn’t the only reason why Little Xia is known as the “Bartender Detective”.

Uncle Chen: At the very beginning, it was because Little Xia once solved a guest’s problem within the time he spent creating a drink.

Uncle Chen: After, even if they didn’t need a detective, guests still loved to find Little Xia to talk to, having him guess their profession, where they just came from, stuff like that.

Uncle Chen: Slowly, this nickname spread.

MC: So Xia Yan even had this kind of story when he was a bartender!

This “Bartender Detective” matter must have been omitted by Xia Yan as something “not worth bringing up”. Sure enough, I was right to come straight here!

Uncle Chen: I’ve only been focusing on talking and didn’t ask what the young lady would like to drink. My hospitality really is insufficient.

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady want to have a hot drink like last time? Or do you want to try something else?

MC: Last time?

I only knew about this bar from seeing Xia Yan’s whiskey today…

Seeing that I was somewhat at a loss, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Though today is the first time that Little Yan has brought a friend over, it’s not the first time I’ve seen the young lady.

Uncle Chen: On a rainy day at the beginning of the year, the young lady came in here and ordered a glass of hot drink from me.

All of a sudden, I remembered. At that time, a client made an appointment to see me near this place, but he suddenly had some unexpected matters to deal with before we met and would come a little late. Because it was raining, the nearby shops had already filled up with people, so I walked into this bar to avoid the rain and pass the time.

MC: Your memory is so good, being able to remember so clearly about something that had happened so long ago.

MC: Plus, there were particularly many guests that time because of the rain.

Uncle Chen: About this…

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan immediately took over talking.

Xia Yan: “A qualified bartender does not only need to understand alcohol – they need to understand people even more. They should do all within their ability to remember the habits of each guest and let them feel at home.”

Xia Yan: This is the phrase that Uncle Chen speaks most often, so of course he would remember you.

MC: So that’s how it is. This must be the so-called “craftsman’s mindset”.

MC: (Wait, since I came to this bar at the beginning of the year…)

A doubt suddenly flashed in my head.

MC: Xia Yan, weren’t you also helping here at Uncle Chen’s place at the beginning of the year? Why didn’t I see you when I came that day?

That day, it seemed like Uncle Chen was the only bartender in the bar.

Xia Yan: …!

Xia Yan’s expression got suspiciously panicked.

Xia Yan: I… I must have taken a day off on that day.

Xia Yan: During that time, I had a particularly large amount of detective commissions, so I was a little busy.

Xia Yan quickly placed the drink menu in front of me.

Xia Yan: Right, didn’t Uncle Chen just ask you what you wanted to drink?

Xia Yan: Fruit punch, the Cinderella, and the midsummer fruit drink are all non-alcoholic cocktails, and they taste pretty good. Want to try?

MC: (This forced change in topic – he’s definitely lying.)

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve even learned to hide from me…)

But for now, I decided to not take apart Xia Yan’s lies in front of Uncle Chen.

I pressed down on my thoughts, lowered my head, and swept a glance over the drink menu.

MC: Today’s a holiday. I want to order something with alcohol.

Looking at Xia Yan and I, Uncle Chen laughed.

Uncle Chen: If the young lady doesn’t have any special preferences, then I would like to recommend my self-brewed whiskey.

As he spoke, Uncle Chen took a bottle of whiskey from the wine shelf. The bottle was identical to the one in Xia Yan’s house.

MC: This bottle of alcohol… it seems like it’s the same as the bottle that you sent to Xia Yan before.

Uncle Chen: That’s right, they’re the same kind of alcohol. I feel like it very much suits Little Xia.

MC: It very much suits Xia Yan? Why?

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen—

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan opened his mouth again. It was very obvious that he wanted to take over in talking…

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (You thought I’d let you take control of the situation? Too naïve, Xia Yan!)

I quickly grabbed a piece of chocolate from the snack plate and peeled it open.

MC: Xia Yan, you must be hungry from talking so much—

Xia Yan: *mouth full noises*!

I stuffed the chocolate into Xia Yan’s mouth and covered it tightly. Xia Yan’s lips struggled futilely under my hand, and I faced back towards Uncle Chen.

MC: Uncle Chen, is there a story about Xia Yan and this bottle of whiskey?

Uncle Chen looked at me and Xia Yan, who had no way to resist, the smile on his face deep.

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (Let me see what you’re going to say this time…)

Thus, I put on a gentle smiling expression, looking intently and quietly at Xia Yan. Under my “friendly” gaze, Xia Yan closed his just-opened mouth up again.

Xia Yan: …

For a while, we were both silent. Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan and I, the smile on his face deep.

Uncle Chen: Has the young lady heard of a phrase like this – “All the stories in a bar are in the wine”?

Uncle Chen: Would you like to try this whiskey?

MC: Yes! I’ll have to request you for it.

Uncle Chen took a glass cup, placed three ice cubes inside, and then used the bartending spoon to stir it quickly. A few minutes later, he filtered out the melted water, poured it into the whiskey, and mixed it again. The spoon slid unceasingly between the ice cubes and the cups, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of noise.

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady know how whiskey is brewed?

MC: I’m not too clear on it… is it similar to wine?

Uncle Chen: For whiskey to become pulp from grain, it needs to undergo germination, saccharification, fermentation, aging, and six procedures of mixing.

Uncle Chen: For it to mature, it will take at least several years, going up to over 10 years.

Uncle Chen: Within this long period of time, no matter how expectant or how anxious the brewer is, or how much they’ve put their entire physical and mental effort into this, they still have no way of absolutely guaranteeing the taste at the end.

MC: Is that so?

MC: (Although, what does this have to do with Xia Yan?)

While I mulled this over, Uncle Chen had already finished adjusting the whiskey. He gently pushed it over.

Uncle Chen: The whiskey – please try it.

I held up the whiskey and took a sip gingerly. The alcohol that had ice added slid smoothly into my mouth, but the aroma didn’t weaken in the slightest bit. The oaky fragrance mixed with the grain’s sweetness.

MC: It tastes great! Uncle Chen, the liquor you’ve brewed really is too amazing!

Uncle Chen: I’m very glad you like it.

Uncle Chen: In fact, when this batch of whiskey was first completely brewed, it didn’t have this taste.

Uncle Chen: It tasted very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a major failure.

Uncle Chen: But after leaving it for a month, it became the taste it has now.

MC: So it was actually like this? Why?

Uncle Chen: Because of light, the surrounding air, and temperature. Sometimes, these things that one must consider when preserving whiskey can instead end up bringing good changes.

Uncle Chen: A failure at one point does not represent one’s life.

Uncle Chen: Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

“Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.” This was the same as the sentence written on that note from earlier.

MC: It sounds like you’re talking about wine, yet it also seems like it’s a philosophy that can describe one’s life.

Uncle Chen: The stories in wine naturally also have life to them.

Uncle Chen looked at me, his smile very gentle. I felt that he was implying something in his words - did Xia Yan encounter some sort of issue back then? But why didn’t he come see and talk to me? Instead, he hid from me…

I looked towards the whiskey beside Uncle Chen’s hand. On the glass bottle filled with amber liquor, Xia Yan’s expression was reflected, looking quietly at me. I met his gaze for a moment, and Xia Yan choked, coughing once.

Xia Yan: Ahem…!

Xia Yan: I just wanted to say, drink it slower…

MC: (Xia Yan…)

I was just pondering what to do next, when suddenly, the bar door was opened again. Uncle Chen looked at the person who’d arrived, then stood up very quickly to walk to the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Excuse me – I must leave for a bit.

After Uncle Chen left, I looked towards Xia Yan again.

MC: Xia Yan, you said before that you came to Uncle Chen’s place to help because of a commission.

MC: Which means, it’s not related to work that needs to be kept secret, right?

Xia Yan: Uh… that’s right.

MC: (Since it’s not related, then it should be fine if I ask a bit.)

MC: Xia Yan, at the beginning of the year, did you encounter some kind of situation? So you…

Xia Yan: Nah, I just happened to not be there that day.

Xia Yan: Alright, we’ve already reunited now, so don’t worry about the thing from that day.

MC: …

This guy’s trying to change the topic again.

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve forced me to use extraordinary methods.)

I deliberately put on my intimidating court trial expression.

MC: Don’t you know that you’re really bad at lying? Plus, you kept changing the topic in front of Uncle Chen!

MC: You’re not just lying with this – you’re even openly mocking my IQ!

MC: If this can be tolerated, what can’t be?

Xia Yan: I…

MC: Severity to those who confess. Even more severity to those who resist! Hurry and own up!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, I’m scared of you…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I shifted towards Xia Yan’s side.

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: What, what are you doing…

MC: Did you really take a day off that day?

MC: You’re not allowed to lie to me. Look straight at my eyes and talk.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Why did you hide from me? If you met with me at that time, we could have reunited earlier by a few months.

MC: Could – you – tell – me…

Tugging on Xia Yan’s arm, I gently rocked it back and forth with a face full of sincerity.

Xia Yan: You’re using this trick again…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I pushed the whiskey that Uncle Chen had prepared towards Xia Yan’s hand. Then, I leaned over, lifted the wisps of hair beside my ear, feigning an elegant air, and gave him a smile.

MC: Handsome brother, I’ve got wine – do you have a story?

I deliberately used a classic line.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Don’t stay silent – from one glance, you’re clearly someone with a story.

MC: How about we chat?

Xia Yan: Where did you learn this from…

I was just about to continue when Xia Yan suddenly angled his head towards the bar door.

Xia Yan: Ah, Uncle Chen’s returning!

I followed Xia Yan’s gaze. The guest from earlier had already left, and Uncle Chen was walking back, holding a document. Suddenly, a bell sound came from his body. Uncle Chen picked up the phone, and a few seconds later, he started to resentfully reproach the caller.

Uncle Chen: Do not call again!

Right after he said this, Uncle Chen hung up with indignation all over his face.

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

In astonishment, Xia Yan and I looked at each other.

PART 3

Bar L

After Uncle Chen hung up, he returned very quickly to the bar counter. He smiled at Xia Yan and I very apologetically.

Uncle Chen: Harasser calls – don’t worry about it.

MC: …

Did Uncle Chen run into some trouble? But would it be discourteous for me, someone who has just met him, to question him closely… I was just hesitating when Xia Yan asked him extremely directly.

Xia Yan: A harasser call won’t make you lose your composure like this. Did you run into some trouble?

Uncle Chen: Just a little issue.

Xia Yan: The document in your hands looks like a detective’s tracking progress for a report on work-related investigations.

Xia Yan: In the past few days, you didn’t just call me simply to have me come hang out – you had something that you wanted to discuss with me, right?

MC: (In the past few days, Xia Yan returned to the capital because of a command…)

MC: (Did Uncle Chen look for other detectives to help because of this?)

Xia Yan: “No matter what troubles a bartender has, when he’s behind the bar counter, he must have a professional expression. He can’t bring troubles to the guests.”

Xia Yan: I know this is your pride and persistence.

Xia Yan: It’s just that, as a detective, I want to investigate secrets when I notice them.

Xia Yan: So, I’d like to request the owner to take special care of the detective guest that likes to look for trouble that I am!

Xia Yan turned around and gently held up that bottle of whiskey on the table.

Xia Yan: Plus, I haven’t given a return gift for the unusually valuable gift you sent me before.

The past between Xia Yan, Uncle Chen, and this bar must run very deep. Though I still didn’t understand what had happened, I took over from Xia Yan’s words.

MC: As the saying goes, “three ignorant cobblers combined can surpass a genius”. If you need the help of a detective, Xia Yan’s the best of them!

MC: If it’s not a secret that’s hard to talk about, please talk about it with us. We might be able to help.

Uncle Chen looked at us, sinking into silence for a moment, then sighed.

Uncle Chen: It’s actually not something major – just a little upsetting.

Uncle Chen: Before, someone who I was familiar with borrowed some money from me, and signed the promissory note according to stipulated formats.

Uncle Chen: But last month, when I went to find him, he said that he has never borrowed any money from me.

MC: He denied it? But there’s proof.

Uncle Chen: So I sued him, and applied for a handwriting appraisal, but the appraisal results showed that the handwriting on the promissory note wasn’t his.

Xia Yan: Could it have been signed by someone else?

Uncle Chen: At that time, only he and I were in the shop.

Uncle Chen: Although… when it was time to sign, he told me that he wasn’t feeling well and had me help him by pouring a glass of hot water.

Uncle Chen: Now that I think about it, that was just an excuse. He took advantage of the opportunity to sign it with his left hand.

MC: With his left hand?

Uncle Chen: He was left-handed when he was little, and only changed after many years of rectification.

MC: Then did you do a handwriting appraisal with his left hand?

Uncle Chen: I also applied to do a left-hand handwriting appraisal, but the result was the same.

Xia Yan: Do you have the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents here?

Uncle Chen: It’s here.

Uncle Chen found the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents. Xia Yan and I carefully compared all the writing marks on it.

Xia Yan: Looking at the handwriting records of the appraisal documents, his left handwriting is, in fact, that of a novice’s.

Xia Yan: His pen marks are inaccurate, the places where he lifts the pen lacks strength, and the marks are crooked and shaky… all signs of lack of practice and inconsistent use of a hand to write.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he deliberately wrote this kind of font to trick the appraisal.

MC: He must be very skilled at using his left hand to be able to use it to write faked handwriting.

Xia Yan: That’s right.

Xia Yan: Since he’s thought up of tricks and plans to prove that he is no longer left-handed, then we’ll use his plan, that he used against others, against him.

Xia Yan: We just need to prove that he still can skillfully use his left hand for this appraisal to collapse on itself.

Uncle Chen: But there’s not enough time.

Time? I immediately reacted.

MC: After losing a trial, if one wants to change the verdict results, one must appeal within set time limits.

Uncle Chen: Yes, today is the last day of the time limit.

Uncle Chen: Before, I had other detectives follow him and investigate, but none of them noticed anything.

MC: (Uncle Chen felt that there was already no way out by now, so when we came in earlier, he didn’t bring up a single word about this…)

Uncle Chen: Good thing that the amount he borrowed wasn’t very large – it was within my bearable range.

Uncle Chen: Plus, suffering financial loss to avoid calamities might be a blessing in disguise.

Uncle Chen laughed kindly. He wasn’t comforting himself – instead, he was comforting us.

Uncle Chen: Let’s not bring up these disappointing matters on a holiday.

Uncle Chen: Weren't you two planning to pass New Year’s Eve here? For this year’s New Year’s Eve, I’ve prepared a lot of interesting activities –

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, to give up now is to fall right into what he wants.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he purposefully borrowed an amount that you would be reluctantly willing to bear. He wants you to give up in the end, not wanting to make a big fuss over this.

As Uncle Chen was talking earlier, Xia Yan had already completely flipped through that detective’s tracking investigation report.

Xia Yan: I know that you’re worried that finding evidence within such a short time is too difficult.

Xia Yan: In spite of this, don’t worry.

Xia Yan: I’m the “Bartender Detective” who once solved a problem within the time spent preparing a glass of drink, after all.

Xia Yan: There are still a few hours before zero-o’clock – we’ll have more than enough time.

MC: Uncle Chen, when I heard you talk about the “Bartender Detective” earlier, I was very curious.

MC: Just view it as you giving me the chance to personally see Xia Yan as the “Bartender Detective”!

Uncle Chen: But that guy has already noticed how I had detectives follow him. He called me just now to ridicule me.

Uncle Chen: He’s definitely already prepared thoroughly. If you go now...

Xia Yan: Don’t worry. I actually think that this is exactly something we can use.

Bar Street

Xia Yan and I went towards the most popular bar on the bar street – “HOT&CLUB”. Even several tens of meters from the door, the music surging out from inside was still audible.

MC: According to the previous detective’s investigation, this is the borrower Cui Xu’s most-frequented bar.

MC: As soon as we submit an appeal, Cui Xu will receive a notice from court. He’s bound to be extremely careful – getting evidence will be very difficult.

Xia Yan: So we need to get evidence that he is left-handed before 12-o’clock tonight and then have Uncle Chen file an appeal.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu is a frequent guest of bars, and he’s very skilled at bar games like table tennis and darts.

Xia Yan: We can set up a situation to make contact with him, lead him into competing with me, and then collect materials with that.

MC: Competing?

When we were little, a relative bought a dartboard for Xia Yan and I. Unwittingly, Xia Yan then developed a habit of throwing darts to clear up his mind when thinking.

MC: Your darts technique is pretty good, but competing…

MC: And do you know how to play table tennis?

Xia Yan: Of course. Plus, I’ve never encountered a worthy opponent these past few years!

Looking at my surprised expression, he smiled.

Xia Yan: My work requires me to get in and out of all sorts of situations. If I want to be freely adaptable to changes, I naturally need to know a bit of everything.

Relaxing, I nodded. Since Xia Yan said that there are no problems, there will definitely be no problems. Thus, I changed focus, starting to think about ways to lead on Cui Xu.

MC: For Cui Yuan to be able to forge handwriting, he must have high anti-reconnaissance awareness.

MC: If we’re too deliberate with leading Cui Xu to compete with you, we’d instead arouse his suspicions.

Xia Yan: We have to make it deliberate.

Xia Yan winked.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu just called Uncle Chen to provoke him – he’s quite arrogant.

Xia Yan: What would he be like if he saw a deliberate and third-rate trap?

MC: So you plan to use this detail about him to perform a bout of “the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it”?

Xia Yan: That’s right.

MC: Then I feel like this plan can be optimized some more.

Xia Yan: How do you want to optimize it?

MC: I’ll be the “cicada”.

HOT&CLUB

Xia Yan and I walked into HOT&CLUB. The sound of drums was deafening, and the dazzling lights roved over the bodies of the dancing guys and girls. Xia Yan embraced my shoulders, guarding me within the crook of his arm. We walked in the sea of people while looking for Cui Xu.

MC: Found him – he’s over there.

I was just about to head over when Xia Yan suddenly tugged my wrist.

MC: Don’t worry, Great Detective.

MC: I’ve often done this level of acting before when going to get evidence – I won’t expose us.

Xia Yan: I know.

Xia Yan smiled, slowly letting go of my wrist.

Xia Yan: I just wanted to tell you that I’ll always be behind you, where you can see me just by turning around.

MC: Mhmm!

-- I faked an expression like something unexpected had happened and walked towards the bar counter, sitting down on the spot beside Cui Xu. I first looked for the busy bartender on the other side, then, as I flipped through the drinks menu, sneakily looked over the other guests’ cocktails at the bar counter.

Cui Xu: Is this the young lady’s first time at a bar?

MC: Uh… it is. You can tell?

Cui Xu: Of course. Just now, you were looking all over the place, with an expression like you were at a complete loss.

Cui Xu: Are you waiting for a friend?

MC: I was stood up by someone, so I came into the bar to pass some time.

Cui Xu: It’s such a waste for such a pretty face to be spent on anger. Here, I’ll treat you to a drink.

MC: I’m not too great with drinking alcohol – I’m just afraid of getting drunk right after finishing.

MC: I’ve heard that there are a lot of games in bars, and I’d like to try them first.

Without changing my tone or expression, I guided my conversation with Cui Xu, turning the topic to what Xia Yan said earlier – an activity that could expose that he was left-handed.

MC: I’ll probably not bother with dancing… too tired.

MC: Working every day is already so tiring. It’s hard enough to get an opportunity to relax, so I’d prefer a quiet and interesting game.

MC: Table tennis does look pretty cool, but there are too many people over there…

Cui Xu: Then how about darts?

MC: (That’s exactly it!)

I faked an ignorant expression.

MC: Ah, darts… I’ve seen darts competitions on television before, but I don’t really know how to play.

Cui Xu: No worries, I’ll teach you. My dart skills are the real deal.

As Cui Xu said this, he compared his thumbs, then stood up, leading me to the other end of the bar counter – where the dart machine was. I turned back, looking at Xia Yan, and he nodded at me.

PART 4

HOT&CLUB

Cui Xu: Right, you haven’t ordered anything since you came to the bar, yeah?

As Cui Xu spoke, he handed me a glass of “iced red tea”. The orange liquid was embellished with lemon slices, ice cubes, and mint leaves – bright and beautiful.

Cui Xu: I’ll treat you.

Cui Xu: This is a non-alcoholic cocktail, with a taste like iced red tea. It very much suits girls.

MC: Whoa, it looks very pretty. I can’t even bear to drink it.

MC: (As if anyone would believe it really is “iced red tea”…)

I hadn’t even been able to refuse it yet when Xia Yan’s voice sounded behind me.

Xia Yan: Using a Long Island iced tea to trick girls – that’s way too tasteless.

Cui Xu: Tch…

Cui Xu “hmph”-ed coldly, turned around, and slowly looked over Xia Yan.

Cui Xu: What nonsense are you talking about? Wanna start something?

Xia Yan: How could this be considered wanting to start something?

Xia Yan: This is a bar, after all. You’re not the only one who wants to strike up a conversation with a beautiful lady.

Xia Yan: Although, my method of striking up a conversation is – to find an opportunity, and to act handsome.

Smiling, Xia Yan sent a glance over to me, his expression reckless and brash. I, who had just led Cui Xu through the plan skillfully and easily, felt at a loss for a moment.

MC: …!

Xia Yan casually took the darts in my hand. His fingertips brushed over the back of my hand, somewhat rough and slightly warm. The dart spun in his fingertips, looking like a flower, becoming a sharp tip in flight. Xia Yan looked at Cui Xu across from it, his expression very provoking.

Xia Yan: How about we compete in a round?

Cui Xu poked at his eyebrow, then disdainfully sounded out a “heh”.

Cui Yuan: “501”, double entry.

Xia Yan: Sure.

After he finished speaking, Xia Yan no longer bothered with Cui Xu. He turned around to “strike up a conversation” with me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, do you know how points are recorded in dart competitions?

MC: Uh… I’ve seen a few competitions.

MC: The dartboard is split into a total of 20 divisions. Accordingly, the numbers on the dartboard are all different. Each are marked from 1 to 20 points.

MC: The two narrow circles on the dartboard are individually for double and triple points. It’s like this, right?

Xia Yan: You’re pretty knowledgeable about it. What a pity – I’d wanted to give you an explanation.

MC: Hahaha…

MC: (When we were little, I saw you play it so many times and accompanied you in watching so many competitions. How could I not remember…)

MC: Then could I trouble you to explain “501” and “double entry”? I’m not too familiar with these…

Xia Yan: The so-called “double entry” game requires you to hit the double-point area to start recording points, and it requires you to hit the double-point area to win the competition.

Xia Yan: As for “501”, each person’s starting points are 501 points. The accumulated points increase or decrease based on the dart throws.

Xia Yan: Each game has 20 rounds, and you can throw 30 darts in one round. The first person to lower their points to 0 is the winner.

MC: 20 rounds? So won’t you have to throw 60 darts?

Cui Xu: How could we let the beautiful lady wait that long! Nine darts is enough.

MC: Nine darts?

Cui Xu: This is the fastest, and simultaneously the hardest, way to win a dart competition – “Nine dart collection”.

Cui Xu walked behind the throwing line.

Cui Xu: Using nine darts is just three rounds to take the points from the original 20 rounds.

Cui Xu: The world’s first double entry nine dart collection was achieved on October 8, 2011, at the World Darts Championship’s semi-finals.

Cui Xu: Brendan Dolan vs. James Wade.

Cui Xu: Back then, the score count that Brendan Dolan achieved in the first round was –

He threw out a dart –

Cui Xu: D20.

Bam! – The dart stably struck the 20-point double point area.

Cui Xu: And then – T20, twice.

Following Cui Xu’s voice, two darts successively struck the 20-point triple point area. He turned around, raised his chin at Xia Yan, his lips curving upwards in a completely taunting way.

MC: …

Xia Yan met Cui Xu’s gaze indifferently and just laughed. He walked up to the throwing line and held up the dart very casually.

Though Xia Yan had said before that he had never met a worthy opponent until today, the skill Cui Xu just showed…

MC: (No, Xia Yan is definitely even more amazing.)

I silently stayed firm with this belief in my heart. Suddenly, a whistle sounded not far from me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, why are you zoning out?

MC: !!!

Maybe it was because Xia Yan had poked at my focus on my worries, maybe it was this frivolous tone of his, but my heart was suddenly in a panic. I met Xia Yan’s gaze – in his expression, there was a defiance and brashness I had never seen before.

Xia Yan: If you don’t watch me, then no matter how handsome I look when winning, it would be all pointless.

The roving lights in the bar dyed Xia Yan’s figure with a hint of unruliness. In this moment, this figure that I was unmatchably used to… seemed to be somewhat unfamiliar.

Xia Yan’s mouth hooked upwards.

Xia Yan: Just like that. Don’t look away.

MC: …

Xia Yan’s voice seemed to carry a strange magnetic force, sucking my gaze to his body with no way to look away. Only then did he smile and return his gaze to the dartboard.

Xia Yan: If you want to pay respects to the classics, then be more thorough.

Xia Yan: Back then, the positions of Brendan Dolan’s first round of darts were –

Xia Yan: D20, in the middle, leaning left.

Xia Yan: T20, right.

Xia Yan: T20, left.

Three darts consecutively flew from Xia Yan’s hands.

Bam bam bam – the darts plunged stably into the positions he just mentioned. Cui Xu held back the taunting on his face.

Cui Xu: … Kind of interesting.

Cui Xu: Looks like we can play a little high today.

With a flick of his right thumb, the darts were thrown high into the air. Right after, his left hand grabbed in the air, and the darts smoothly slid between his fingers, a cycle of points between his five fingertips.

MC: …!

Here it is – I held on my phone, silently opening the video screen. The second round started, and Cui Xu stood again behind the throwing line. He threw faster and more precisely with his left hand than with his right – the areas that the three darts successively fell stably into were – T20, T20, T20. Right after, the third round – T20, T20, Bullseye. After the three rounds, Xia Yan and his opponent had completely struck off 501 points.

But we already got our evidence.

MC: (Awesome! Next, we need to remind Uncle Chen to submit an appeal.)

Cui Xu: Now, don’t you need to find an excuse to leave and have the old man submit an appeal, beautiful lady?

Cui Xu fiddled with the darts in his hands, looked at us, seeming to smile, but also seeming to not smile.

Cui Xu: It must have been that old man who had you two search for evidence off of me.

Cui Xu: He really knows how to make trouble – even found two detectives.

Cui Xu: Did you two think that I would relax my guard just because today’s the last day of the appeal validity period? Haha.

He took out his phone, waving it in front of Xia Yan’s and my faces – 0:10.

Cui Xu: 10 minutes past midnight. The time to appeal has already passed.

Cui Xu: Your dart throwing was pretty good, but I won.

Just as Cui Xu finished speaking, we heard Xia Yan laugh lightly.

Xia Yan: They didn’t set up a clock in the bar because they wanted to let guests forget about the meaning of time after coming in.

Xia Yan: So if you want to look at the time, you’d rely on your phone.

Xia Yan took out his own phone, tapping at it a few times. Cui Xu’s phone screen suddenly blacked out, and in two seconds, the numbers on it had changed from 0:10 to 23:30.

Xia Yan: But things like phones are way too easy to hack.

Xia Yan: The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it.

Xia Yan: The people executing a ruse aren’t just you alone.

Cui Xu: You rascal!

Cui Xu’s complexion suddenly paled, and he rushed at Xia Yan.

Bang! Xia Yan raised his arm – I couldn’t see his movements at all, I just saw Cui Xu directly tumbling over in the space between us.

Cui Xu: Ahh!

PART 5

Street

After, Xia Yan immediately contacted Uncle Chen to have him submit an appeal online.

Xia Yan: Alright, smoothly resolved!

Xia Yan: Let’s head back. It’s nearly zero-o’clock, and the New Year’s Eve activities at Uncle Chen’s place –

When he mentioned Bar L, Xia Yan suddenly stopped.

MC: What’s up?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan carefully looked at me a few times, his expression evasive – just like how he was at Bar L, when I asked him exactly if he had been at the bar on that rainy day. I couldn’t resist laughing.

MC: Are you afraid that I’ll ask you about… if you were at the bar that rainy day?

MC: Alright, I won’t ask anymore.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan froze for a few seconds.

Xia Yan: Weren’t you really curious before…

MC: I’m still pretty curious now. But…

I looked towards Xia Yan and smiled.

MC: Everyone has matters that they don’t want to tell others.

MC: This is especially so after we grow up.

The closer people are, the harder it is to talk about certain matters, so a lot of people choose to go to bars to talk to strangers. Though in the past, Xia Yan and I were always so familiar that we were like a single person without any secrets between us, we’ve now grown up. After growing up, there will be boundaries. Forcing him to tell me his thoughts and forcing him to accept my help were also a sort of wrong. If I were to question him in the pestering way like when we were little, it would be a severely EQ-lacking action.

MC: …

MC: I’m sorry. Earlier at Bar L, I even questioned you…

MC: I didn’t realize at that time…

Before, Xia Yan urged me to not join NXX, but after I made my determination known, he respected my decision. This time as well – he clearly would have been fine on his own, but he considered my thoughts and let me help out. Xia Yan has always considered me, and has always respected my decisions. I’m all too clear on this mindset of his.

So, even if he had some things that he didn’t want to tell me, what’s the big deal?

Though it was just like before – as long as I kept trying, Xia Yan would not reject me – the more it was like this, the more I had to have a sense of measure. Otherwise, I’d put him in a difficult position.

MC: In the future, for anything that isn’t easy for you to talk about, I –

Xia Yan: It’s not like that!

Xia Yan suddenly grabbed onto my hand, holding it with force, his hands grasping my knuckles.

Xia Yan: There’s nothing that’s inconvenient for you to ask.

Xia Yan: Whether it’s the whiskey matter, or the rainy day matter – you can ask about anything you want to know about.

Xia Yan: None of my matters are inconvenient for you to ask about.

Xia Yan: There is no boundary between us.

MC: Xia Yan…

Suddenly, he seemed to have become aware that he was holding my hand with too much force, and hurriedly released it.

Xia Yan: Sorry, I held your hand with too much force… I probably hurt you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his gaze trembling slightly.

He went silent for several seconds, and finally, slowly opened his mouth.

Xia Yan: I…

Xia Yan: I just… was embarrassed to tell you…

Xia Yan: I didn’t want to let you know… that I once wanted to avoid you.

MC: Avoid me?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: I was afraid that I would bring… trouble to you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his eyes full of guilt and unease.

MC: Was it because of the NXX issue? At that time, you had already started investigating related events yourself, right?

MC: Were you afraid that meeting me would get me involved in danger?

Xia Yan didn’t respond, like he was agreeing silently.

I tugged on Xia Yan’s arm, having him face me wholly.

MC: What relation do we have between us?

MC: Even if there’s danger, I want to face it with you.

MC: If on some day in the future, you truly encounter a hard problem that I can’t accompany you in facing, then I’ll wait for you to return.

MC: Remember this well – everything about you isn’t trouble to me. It all has extraordinary significance!

Xia Yan: …

As we spoke, snowflakes like little diamonds fell down from the sky, one landing precisely on Xia Yan’s eyelash. His pupil seemed to flicker with a small light.

Xia Yan: Mm, I’ll remember it.

MC: You also have to remember that, compared to trouble, compared to danger, compared to anything else, what I fear more is that you… won’t be here.

MC: Where you are by yourself, if you’re living alright, if there are things upsetting you, if there are people who can share your burdens… I’ll be very worried…

MC: So you must promise me, from now and in the future, you can’t think about escaping from me again.

I looked firmly at Xia Yan, putting on an imposing manner like if I didn’t hear a definite answer, I would swear to not give up. Xia Yan looked at me and laughed lightly.

Xia Yan: I swear, now and in the future, I will never think about escaping from you again.

Xia Yan: I will do all I can to always, always accompany you.

Xia Yan spoke unusually solemnly – even more solemnly than I had expected. His clear eyes reflected the fluttering snowflakes.

MC: …

MC: That’s right!

MC: In the future, even if you want to escape to the ends of the world, I’ll still drag you back!

Xia Yan: Yep, I have no doubts about that!

Bong bong bong –

The bell from the clock striking zero-o’clock sounded. Innumerable brightly-colored fireworks lit up the faraway night sky for a while.

MC: It’s zero-o’clock!

Xia Yan: I’m sorry – blame me for taking up time.

Looking somewhat upset, Xia Yan looked at the fireworks in the faraway night sky.

Xia Yan: What do you want to do now? There should still be some final New Year’s Eve activities going on at Uncle Chen’s place, although it’ll take some time for us to rush there.

Xia Yan: Or we could go to the center plaza to look at the fireworks show? It’ll be closer that way.

MC: Mm… forget it, I don’t want to go to either place now.

MC: I feel like it would be pretty nice if we passed New Year’s Eve here.

Innumerable fireworks in the distance soared up, then fell down. Xia Yan’s and my spot definitely could not be considered a suitable viewing location, but I felt extremely happy. Compared to how you pass New Year’s Eve, what’s more important is who you spend New Year’s Eve with. At this moment, I really just wanted to stay like this with only Xia Yan for a little while longer.

MC: Xia Yan, how about we just slowly walk a bit back to Uncle Chen’s place?

Xia Yan: Sure. Here, give me your hand.

Xia Yan held my hand in his, putting them together into his coat pocket. Just like it had been every winter, his palms have always been so warm – holding his hand was like holding a little sun.

Xia Yan: Alright, Xia Yan-brand hand warmers have turned on!

Xia Yan: Now we can go.

MC: Wait a bit, Xia Yan.

I haven’t said my New Year’s blessings to Xia Yan yet.

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! Happy New Year! For this new year, may you be happy every day!

Xia Yan: With your blessings, I’m sure that I’ll be happy every day for this year.

Xia Yan: You too – Happy New Year. May you be happy every day.

MC: With a Xia Yan-brand little sun, is it even possible for me to be unhappy?

Xia Yan: You’re absolutely correct! I’ll definitely ensure that you are completely happy every day!

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! For this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to!

Xia Yan: I’ve already accomplished what I’ve set my heart to.

MC: Huh?

Xia Yan: You too - for this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

PART 6

Bar L

Xia Yan and I returned to Bar L. Xia Yan said he had to do some cleanup on the video, so he had me wait a bit at the bar counter. Not long after, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps behind me.

MC: You were pretty… fast?

I angled my head around, seeing Xia Yan, now in full bartender attire.

MC: Xia Yan, this is?

Xia Yan: Several months ago, I disappointed a certain very important guest because of my error.

Xia Yan: So I made a request of Uncle Chen just now…

Xia Yan: To let me become that guest’s exclusive bartender tonight to properly make it up to her.

Xia Yan: Alright, young lady, what would you like to drink?

MC: For this, I’ll have to think carefully about it!

I pondered for a moment.

MC: I heard earlier from the owner of this place that you have a liquor that very much suits you.

MC: I’d also like to request this handsome bartender to prepare a cocktail that suits me best!

Xia Yan: It’s a task with some difficulty.

Xia Yan: But as your exclusive bartender, I will definitely satisfy you.

Xia Yan: Please wait a moment.

Xia Yan placed a cocktail glass in front of me, then took a bottle of wine from the wine shelf.

Xia Yan: First, pour the chocolate liqueur into the wineglass.

Xia Yan: Then, gently float a layer of fresh cream on top of the liqueur.

Following the back of the spoon, the fresh cream slowly infused itself in the glass’s contents. Right after, Xia Yan stuck a cocktail pin through a dark red cherry, stacking it on the glass rim.

Xia Yan: Angel’s Kiss – please try it.

MC: What a romantic name – why is it called that? Is it because the cherry is like a pair of lips?

Xia Yan: There’s another important reason.

Xia Yan: Young lady, please take the cocktail pin and soak the cherry into the liqueur, then gently take it out.

Complying with his words, I dipped the cherry into the liqueur, then took it out. The cocktail stirred up, and the fresh cream floated into swirls, like a small pair of lips.

Xia Yan: This is the Angel’s Kiss.

Xia Yan: It’s said that after drinking it, an angel will transfer your thoughts to the person you care about.

Xia Yan: I feel like this is the cocktail that suits you best.

Xia Yan’s voice became unusually gentle.

MC: …

After finishing his work, Xia Yan went into the bar’s inside room to change clothes. Completely concealed behind the door, Uncle Chen faced the girl waiting at beside the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Angel’s Kiss – just like Cupid’s arrow, shot into the hearts of lovers.

Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan, smiling meaningfully.

Uncle Chen: On an important day, if you drink a glass of Angel’s Kiss, the god of love will definitely transmit your feelings to the person you yearn for day and night.

Uncle Chen: It really is a drink that’s extremely well suited for her.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen: I’ve been thinking all day about the conditions that she came in for the first time, at the beginning of the year.

[Flashback]

The beginning of the year…

The noisy sounds of rain were shut outside by the heavy oak door. When guests pushed open the door to come in, the clamminess of water vapor blew in.

Uncle Chen: There are quite a lot of guests on rainy days. You’ve really worked hard.

Xia Yan: You’re looking at this as an outsider – I don’t feel like I’ve worked hard at all.

As they spoke, the oak door was opened again.

Xia Yan: There’s another guest coming –

Xia Yan: …!

It was [MC]. Even if they were separated by a room full of guests, even if it was just a back view, he could still recognize that figure easily.

Uncle Chen: What’s wrong, Little Xia? Do you know that girl?

Xia Yan’s mouth lightly trembled, out of his control.

Xia Yan: I’m sorry, Uncle Chen…

Xia Yan: Can I trouble you to serve this guest…

Xia Yan hastily left the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: …

Uncle Chen looked deeply at the girl by the door. She had just closed the door and was turning around, walking to the bar counter.

After closing that day, Xia Yan carried out closing tasks in behind the bar counter. After everything was properly tidied up, he slowly sat down behind the bar counter, looking at that empty seat in front of him.

Xia Yan: …

Hearing footsteps behind him, Xia Yan swiftly stood up.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve completely tidied up this area. If there’s nothing else, then I’ll leave first.

Uncle Chen: Wait a bit, Little Xia.

Uncle Chen called out to Xia Yan and held up the whiskey in his hand.

Uncle Chen: If you don’t have anything to deal with for the next while, how about accompanying me in drinking a glass?

Uncle Chen: I’d like to invite you to help me try this bottle of alcohol.

Uncle Chen poured the whiskey into two glasses, then handed a glass to Xia Yan. Xia Yan took a light sip.

Xia Yan: The taste is very good, and the texture is extremely gentle.

After hearing this, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Every time I drink it, I’ll think about the taste that this batch of whiskey had right after brewing.

Uncle Chen: It was completely different from now. Its texture was very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a complete failure.

Uncle Chen: I didn’t think that after some time, the taste would become good.

Uncle Chen: So, if a matter hasn’t reached an end, one cannot give up, because the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen gave a wooden box to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: Wine and life are both like this.

[Flashback end]

Uncle Chen faced the girl at the bar counter, then turned his gaze back to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: There’s actually another saying about whiskey.

Xia Yan: You really have a lot of sayings for your alcohol.

Uncle Chen: Even if it’s the same kind of wine, it will have different meanings to different guests.

Uncle Chen: Someone who can deliver drinks to guests that are most suited for them is qualified to be a bartender.

Xia Yan: Then what do you want to say this time?

Uncle Chen: Hemingway once said: “There are two matters that you must absolutely not hesitate about. You must do them immediately.”

Uncle Chen: “Kiss a beautiful girl, or open a bottle of whiskey.”

Xia Yan: … Thank you.

Xia Yan tilted his head towards the person who was waiting for him at the bar counter. She was freely looking over the various kinds of alcohol behind the counter with interest.

Xia Yan: I need to wait a bit longer to open that whiskey bottle.

Xia Yan: I’ll wait until there are no impurities at all. I’ll wait until the day when I truly have no secrets from her.

Xia Yan: At that time, I will open it without hesitation.

-END-

#tot translation #tears of themis #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #xia yan #夏彦 #I know nothing about darts #so there’s a 99.99% chance that the dart terminology is all wrong #anyways #Pls I can’t #I love xia yan so much #happy new year #!!

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oskea93 · 4 years

Text

My Heart Has a History (5)

This was ridiculous!

I was surrounded by four white walls and the clock on the wall was beginning to drive me insane. I must have been in here for close to an hour and I had yet to be seen by anyone. I had asked multiple times on the way over here why I was being arrested, but all I got was a few mumbles and that was it.

"Abbot-" A man's voice sounded as he opened the door. "It's time for your phone call." His whole demeanor was caulis and rude. I struggled to get up from the metal seat as the bastard just stood there watching.

"Thanks for the help." I muttered. As I made my way to the phone, I tried my best to look for Gemma or for any sign of Unser or Hale. "You got five minutes." I rolled my eyes as the man took a seat across from the phone, making sure to keep his eyes on me I had a decision to make. I could either call my husband and try to explain to him what was going on or I could call Jax. I don't know which one would be worse and which one would be better. They would both freak out about the situation but Jax would possibly take it to extremes. Then again, Jax would be able to get both Gemma and I released. "Do you have to make a phone call or not, Abbot?" Before I could reply, Unser's voice began to filter through the hall soon revealing himself, Clay, and Jackson. "Are you okay?" Jax rushed over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders in a comforting manner. I just nodded my head. "What the hell is this all about?" All I could do was shrug my shoulder at his question. It was as if my mouth and brain were no longer working in sync. Jax stayed by my side as Clay appeared with Gemma, a look of relief on her face when she saw me. "You wanna tell me why Gemma Morrow and Presley Abbot were arrested?" Unser began to question the asshole who released me to use the phone. "Stahl wanted them in for questioning and that's the only way we could get them here." He replied smugly. "They were together so it was the perfect opportunity." I noticed Jax tense up in anger at the man's response. "ATF doesn't call the shots around here, son.” Unser sneered. “Presley and Gemma are free to go and are not to be bothered. Do you understand me?” "ATF outranks any small-town official, Chief." Unser made his way closer to the man, finally coming face-to-face with him. "That may be true in other places but not in my town, detective." The two had a stare off before Unser told the guy that we were both free to go once again. As I was leaving, I made sure to look at the guy who caused so much trouble, even offering him a smirk as I crossed into the other room. Jax was hot on my tail as we exited the police station together. Once we were outside, I noticed that he had drove his truck over instead of his bike. I was in desperate need of a ride home and I didn't feel like bothering Matt with all the drama at this point. I was beginning to think that it would be best not to tell him what had just happened. "You need a lift home?" Jax soon spoke once we reached the truck. "Yeah, that would be great." I gave him a small smile. I placed my hand in his as he opened the passenger door, helping me into the tall vehicle. I couldn't help but laugh as he ran around the car, flipping his reaper cap around in the process. I always loved it when he wore that stupid cap. He even got Wyatt one so they could twin out on different occasions. "Neeta said that she would look at Wyatt for a little longer today if you want to rest for a while. I can even drop him off tonight, whichever works best for you." I just nodded my head as the trucks engine roared to life. As we traveled to the house, I struggled to find the right words to say when it came to telling Jax about how Matt felt about the other night. "Jax-"I began as I turned in my seat. "We need to talk about a few things." Confusion replaced the content look that he had on his face. "The other night when you came over-"I stuttered. "Well, Matt wasn't too happy about that. He found it kind of rude that you just helped yourself into the house, even though I told him that you knocked. He's just worried that his parents are gonna disapprove of him because-"

I stopped midsentence as I tried to find the right words once again.

"Because of what, Presley." Jax interjected. I watched as the houses and tree passed us by as I struggled to search for the right words. "Because you’re still in my life." The words escaped before I could register what I had said. I looked over at him, noticing that he was as still as a statue. I wanted to tell him that I was perfectly okay with him still being in my life but I decided to just stay quiet. I then started to mentally kick myself for even telling him all of this to begin with. I should have just kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the ride home. Ever since our divorce was finalized, Jax and I would remain close. For starters, we shared a son together and wanted to do what was best for him. I couldn't ever imagine separating the two of them or would I ever think to do so. They were like two peas in a pod and I loved that Jax was such a hands-on dad. When his car pulled into the driveway, all I could do was sit there. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he placed the car in park and hastily got out. He made his way around the car and quickly opened my door. "Are you getting out?" He huffed out as he stood there impatiently. I looked up at him, fighting with myself over what to tell him. "Presley, I don't have all day." I finally gave in and got out of the truck, standing in the way so he couldn't close the door just yet. "I don't feel the way Matt does.” I spoke. “I love having you in my life and in our son's life." He rolled his eyes. "I'm serious Jackson!" I said a bit harsher. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't in our lives. Our lives wouldn't be the same." He refrained from looking at me, choosing to stare at the house instead. I decided to finally move away from the door since this wasn't going how I planned in my head. "I'll have Neeta drop Wyatt off tonight." He slammed the car door shut, causing me to jump in surprise. I watched as he made his way back around the truck, not even offering a goodbye as he started the engine. I slowly made my way up the stairs and into the house as he fled out of the driveway. I thought I had felt shitty before but I was feeling even worse now…. It had been a few days since I last seen or even heard from Jax. Gemma would pick Wyatt up and drop him off every day that he didn't stay the night. Every time she would come, the issue between Jax and I would be brought up but I had nothing to tell her. In my defense, I didn't do anything wrong. I had told Jax the truth but he was being the stubborn one.I didn't need that kind of stress this late in my pregnancy. I was so stressed out over the whole Jax debacle that I grew more and more behind in my work. I had several cakes and pastries that needed to be done by a certain date and I had yet to get any of them accomplished. The poor girls at the shop probably thought I had abandoned them. When I got to the bakery, the place was packed with customers. The shelves and cases were stocked with fresh goodies and the girls looked as if they were handling things nicely. "Oh thank God, she's back." A voice shot out from behind the counter before Nicole, my head cookie maker, came running towards me. She instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, almost strangling me in the process. I couldn't help but laugh as I hugged her back, ignoring the looks of the customers waiting for their treats. "We were about to send out a search party for you but Jax told us you weren't feeling great." I pulled away from her grasps and gave her a look. "When did you see Jax?" I questioned. She had told me that Jax and Wyatt had stopped by yesterday for some cookies before heading back to the garage. "Wyatt looks just like his father."

I just nodded my head, still a bit confused, as I gave her a smile and headed towards the back. "Pres?" Nicole appeared again. "There's a couple of ladies out here requesting your services." I quickly put my bag down on my desk and waddled my way out into the public. Standing at the counter was the girl I hated most and the woman responsible for her career. "Luanne." I spoke. The older woman gave me a smile as Ima the Slut stood there as if she was God's gift to men. I couldn't help but mentally shake my head at her choice of outfit. She was in a public place wearing the shortest shorts imaginable and a shirt that was showing that she decided not to wear a bra today. Her hair was all perfect as was her makeup, so I figured she was on her way to work. "How you doing, Presley." She asked sympathetically. I had always liked Luanne but I didn't agree with her business ventures. She was a nicer version of Gemma but I feel as if she would drop you like a bat if given the chance. "I'm doing pretty good; Just trying to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy." She gave me a smile while Ima stood there looking uninterested. "What can I get the two of you." I finally asked. I made my way back around the counter seeing as they were probably here to order something. "I don't know if you heard or not but Ima's movie is gonna be released in a few days and I want you to make a cake for the party." This was defiantly a first. I had made personal cakes for Luanne in the past but this would be the first time I made one for a porno. "I was thinking that it would be a chocolate cake with hot pink icing and maybe some kind of saying or design." I watched as her eyes lit up as she explained the look of the cake. "It needs to be sexy yet classy since that's the kind of business I run." I just nodded my head, continuing to write down her ideas. "Ima, do you have anything to add?" I looked up as Ima's eyes connected with mine. She slowly looked up from her manicured nails, her eyes searing into my soul, "Just don't fuck it up."… I finally decided to call it a day a little after 8 that night.

I was almost caught up with all my orders but Ima's cake was still in the process of being designed. I had no idea how I was gonna make a cake look sexy but I would try my best to please the porn queen. Gemma had decided that she was gonna keep Wyatt for the night so I could enjoy a night of quiet. I gathered up all my things and began to close the shop. I made sure to turn the lights off, which I have left on all night in the past, and closed the door behind me. As I was locking up, I noticed a few men moving into the store beside of mine. "Good evening miss.” A grey-headed man waved from the store front. “Good evening.” I greeted, clutching my bag closer to my body as he approached. "Looks as if we are going to be neighbors." He spoke with a smile. “Seems so. ”I looked around at the men who surrounded the owner. They wore white button up shirts with jeans, their hair cut in a buzzed fashion. “Impeccable Smokes?” I questioned the name. He looked at me, smirk falling onto his face. “Cigar shop.” I nodded my head at his explanation. “Heard some folks around charming like a good cigar now and again. I figured the best place to set up shop is right next door to Charming’s favorite bakery.” I couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable as his eyes stared into mine. At this point, all of his men had stopped working and were now honing in on our conversation. “Well-“ I cleared my throat. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr-“ “Zobelle.”

#Jax Teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #Charlie Hunnam #SOA #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jackson Teller #sons of anarchy imagine

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itshardcandy · 4 years

Text

Strawberry Flavor - Part 1

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader, Min Yoongi x Reader, Park Jimin x Reader

8789 Words

Genre: Fluff, Idiots Friends to lovers, crack

Warnings: None except some super light swearing, an unhealthy obsession for Jimin’s cakes ( I think i might have a problem idk ) and some light flirting ( I tried to create some mild tension at the end... not sure I did it right )

Summary: What’s a girl to do when her handsome colleague, her sweet business partner and her mysterious, piano playing friend compete for 1st place on the list of her favourite people?

Heavily inspired by the “Another Story” individual stories in the BTS World game but with a twist. The final pairing isn’t fully decided, yet, so if you have some input or some suggestions or just a burning desire for me to twist the story into a certain direction please let me know and maybe we can work something out ;)

IPlease don’t hesitate to give feedback and like & reblog if you enjoyed <3

______

“Strawberry Flavor! Strawberry Flavor, where are you?”

Hotel-service intern Kim Seokjin rushed into the kitchen of the hotel restaurant to find you, his colleague and only friend in this hell of an establishment,

“Yah, Strawberry Flavor! This is important, where are you?”

He knew the kitchen area would be empty at this time, save for you. Most of your colleagues had already clocked out for the night but you usually stayed longer to wait for Seokjin to finish his shift as well. Which is why he busted through the doors of the locker room, guns blazing, to find you already waiting for him and packing your things,

“Ah, there you are! Didn’t you hear me?”

Accusingly, he thrust his hands in your direction, which were full of laundry items. You turned around, wide-eyed and flabbergasted at Seokjin’s dramatic entrance in the break room,

“Kim Seokjin, I swear on all that’s holy in this world, one of these days I will bash your head in with a frying pan, if you yell at me like that again!”

You pointed at his smug face and tried to look like you actually meant it,

“I could have been changing in here, you punk! Don’t you have any manners? Jeez, you give a guy leftover chicken and suddenly he thinks he owns the place…”,

Jin took a moment to process your words before he smiled at you and rolled his eyes,

“Ah, Strawberry Flavor, I’m sorry, I’m just so excited! You said there’s more leftover chicken again today, what am I supposed to do? Stay calm?”

You didn’t actually mean anything you said, of course, you adored your tall, handsome and broad-shouldered colleague and were glad that you had become friends. Or so he liked to think, at least,

“Yes! That is absolutely what you are supposed to do!”

You tried to answer without a smile creeping on your face but seeing Jin just did that to people. He was handsome, sure, but his face, when he got a little worked up over something, was one the funniest things known to mankind,

“You know I can’t be held responsible for my actions when chicken is involved…”

He dropped his gaze and kicked at imaginary dirt on the ground. You took a deep breath and remembered that Seokjin was essentially an overgrown child with an even more overgrown appetite,

“I saved it for you, no one’s going to steal it”

You said and Jin huffed, pouting at you,

“Ok…”

You noticed the laundry in his hands just now,

“Did Areum give you more laundry, again?”

You asked as you pointed at the various blankets and stuffed animals he was carrying,

“She said she wants them dry cleaned by tomorrow morning. How am I supposed to do that? Everyone already left…”

He explained and you sighed. That girl knew how to keep him on his toes,

“Well, you just have to come in early tomorrow and beg the guys from laundry to run an express load”

You checked the contents of your purse, before turning back to Seokjin again,

“Hm, you’re right. I should drop this in the laundry bins, right? Be right back!”

He mumbled and turned on his heels to leave,

“Can you heat the chicken up for me, please? Thank you”

You heard him say as the doors closed behind him. You shook your head and let out a long breath,

“This guy really has no shame”

You said to yourself as you grabbed your things and went to work on the chicken for Jin, so you both could finally leave, as soon as he got back.

------

As you walked along the beach promenade, a Tupperware in hand containing Jin’s chicken, you listened to him munch on a piece of it while he tried to recount all events of the day to you. Apparently, the lady, who had been staying in 306 for the last week, wasn’t as sweet as you thought. Jin told you about this morning, when he went to bring her breakfast to her room and she pinched his butt while he was on the way out. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, he was so invested in his own story,

“And then she said the bacon looks good this morning! The bacon, Strawberry Flavor! As in MY bacon! Can you believe?!”

Were he not so busy to stuff his mouth full of the wings you had saved for him, he would have ranted on about it for hours,

“No, Jin, I can’t, in fact, believe”,

“I know it looks good, I have eyes, after all, but just pinching my bacon like it was a cheap side dish…”

“Absolutely outrageous”

You commented while typing away on your phone. You knew by now that you just needed to pay attention at the right moment to appease Jin’s ego,

“Exactly!”

He flung his hand around and looked like he tried to fight someone with the chicken leg, that he was currently holding,

“Did you say anything to her? Or did you just do that creepy customer-service fake smile”

You asked, already knowing that, even if Jin talked a big game now, he probably just squeaked like a squirrel when the thirsty grandma felt him up and looked like a deer caught in the headlights when she shut the door in his face. Deep down, he probably enjoyed the attention, though,

“No, I didn’t. can’t risk an additional complaint from any of the guests with all the negative points I keep scoring with Areum…”

He mumbled and his puffed chest deflated a bit at that,

“Ah Seokjin, don’t worry! I’m sure Areum will see soon how much effort you put into everything she makes you do!”

You patted his shoulder reassuringly and handed him a tissue to wipe the spicy chicken sauce off his face,

“Thanks, Strawberry Flavor, you always know what to say…”

Unbeknownst to you, Jin was thankful for more than just your kind words and company today. He was thankful for a lot more when it came to you and the chicken was only the cherry on top of the biggest, most delicious scoop of heart-shaped ice cream, he had ever imagined in his life.

When you two met on the day you were examined as a potential addition to the kitchen staff at the hotel, he didn’t think you’d become such an integral part of his life but he’s certainly thankful things played out the way they did. Even though he wishes he was brave enough to ask you for more, he is content to just be the best friend to you, that he could be. You deserved it. If not for you, he would have been kicked out of the hotel multiple times already because he just kept messing up so much. Most of the kitchen staff still avoided him because of the wedding cake incident a few months back. He cringed inwardly; it had not been pretty,

“And even if she doesn’t and tells Manager about all your shortcomings and he kicks you out, you can count on me to save you chicken from time to time!”

He almost chokes on said chicken when he has to laugh at your poor attempt to lighten the mood,

“Jin, you need to swallow!”

He could only laugh harder and it made you smile,

“Yah! Stop laughing! You’re gonna choke! I don’t know any first aid…”

You clapped him on the back and he slowly calmed down, still cackling like a little kid. You wanted to see him laugh like this more often, lately, because interning at the hotel wasn’t working out so well for him. He had a lot of difficulties with the service and it didn’t help that he was assigned as Areum’s caretaker during the time she would be staying at the hotel. That little girl… you knew she was only 7 but she drove you up the wall sometimes. Especially when she scolded Jin for all the things he did wrong, which was a regular occurrence,

“I’m fine, I’m fine, do you have any more tissues, though?”

Jin asked and you dug around your purse until you found one. He coughed roughly and then took a deep breath,

“Phew… Let’s just hope Manager keeps me around a little longer, yeah?”

He smiled at you and you nodded,

“He has to, or I’m going on strike. See how he handles the rioting guests when there are no more Special Strawberry Flavor Pancakes around!”

Jin puts his arm around your shoulder and hugs you to his side a little awkwardly,

“Ahh, don’t do that, you’ll be fired, too! And then who will be my chicken hero?”

You cough out an awkward laugh at the physical contact and quickly try to get your bearings back,

“Ok, ok… I won’t go on strike”

“And I’ll figure something out with Areum… she’s just a kid, how hard could it be to find something she likes to do? Do you think maybe I should try bribing her with candy?”

You opened your mouth to answer when a familiar voice interrupted you,

“Hey Rice Cake, I’m over here!”

It was your roommate Park Jimin; passionate dancer and number 1 rice cake enthusiast. He was waiting for you at the bus stop like he usually did to pick you up after work. He insisted on doing so, even if he had to take a few extra buses after dance practice to get here.

You happily waved at him and turned to Jin to say goodbye for tonight,

“There’s my ride. Well, my companion for the bus ride, anyway… You should probably come up with something more creative than bribing a little girl with candy, though, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow! Good night!”,

“Yeah, ok… Good night, Strawberry Flavor”

He smiled and waved half-heartedly after you already turned around and walked towards your friend. Park Jimin seemed like a good guy, as far as he could tell; he obviously cared about you enough to go out of his way to get you home safe and in Jin’s books that was the least you deserved. Still, he would rather he was the one to accompany you on your way home.

_________

As Jimin watched you say goodbye to your colleague he briefly wondered why you still let him be the one to take you home when there was this tall, good-looking man in your life, who, clearly, was head over heels for you. He had known the minute he met Kim Seokjin for the first time a few months ago, that the handsome hotelier had the hots on for you. He couldn’t fault the guy, though; he knew first-hand the power your pretty smile and beautiful personality held. If Jimin didn’t feel so insecure and small in the presence of the other man, maybe they could have become friends but all Jimin could see, was a really tall, handsome and impressively built obstacle in the way of his plan to get you to be his girl when he looked at Kim Seokjin.

Jimin loses his self-deprecating train of thought pretty quickly though, when you enter his personal space and hug his arm to your chest,

“Jiminahh, I had such a good day! I can’t wait to tell you all about it”

You smiled at him and for a few precious moments he just felt lucky to have you in his life at all. Kim Seokjin and his good looks be damned. He reached for your hand and took your bag to carry it for you. He knows you would never admit it, because you’re a strong, independent woman, who don’t need no man but you secretly loved that he did all these little things to make your life a little easier. Even if it was just carrying a bag, that, quote unquote: wasn’t even really that heavy,

“Yeah? Tell me about it”

He smiled down at you, as you both went to sit down on the bench and waited for the bus to arrive and take you home,

“It was my turn to decorate all the little pastries and cakes today! Well… after I fried a shit ton of chicken for the buffet in the conference room”

You answered and Jimin smiled to himself. Decorating cakes was one of your favourite things to do, even when you helped him out in your spare time in the little rice-cake shop he inherited from his late grandmother. He was quite good at it himself, too, having watched his grandma make and decorate rice cakes with a burning passion for years, but he let you do it whenever possible, just so he could watch your face scrunch up cutely in concentration when you bent over the sweet little treats and painted fantastic floral works of art on them,

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun today”

He commented and you nodded,

“I did. And Manager even said I did good today, so that was worth all the hours I spent covered in chicken grease afterwards”

You stifled a yawn after you said that and Jimin laughed quietly. You did actually smell faintly of fried chicken but honestly? That was just a bonus because you looked like a snack already.

Just as he was about to comment on your fried chicken smell, the bus rolled into the station and you took your seats and fell into a comfortable silence for the duration of the ride. It wasn’t too long of a way home but it was enough for you take a quick nap on your friend’s shoulder, before he gently shook you awake again, to signal the imminent arrival of the bus at your station. You followed Jimin outside and as the bus rode on peacefully, you walked the rest of the way towards the rice cake shop and the apartment you shared upstairs.

You felt thankful for it every time you set foot in your shared home because it had been the first good thing to happen to you in a long while. Starting off as Granny Park’s apprentice in the rice cake business, you first met Jimin as he was about to head out and handle some deliveries for the day. He was shy at first but quickly warmed up to you when he noticed how seriously you took your work and how respectful and hard-working you were with his grandmother. Granny Park taught you and her grandson how to make the most delicious little cakes and she had even let you live in the spare room in the apartment she shared with Jimin. She had given you so much and you were determined to prove worthy of her trust. Sadly, not long after she had taken you in and you and Jimin became close friends, she passed away and left you and her grandson to continue to run the shop. You and Jimin had made some significant changes to the way the shop operated and now, it ran more profitable than ever before. You hoped Jimin could see how happy and grateful you still were now, months later.

Jimin dropped your bag in your room and you took a few minutes for yourself to change into more comfortable clothing and wash up. Even though you got to do something fun at work today, doesn’t mean you weren’t exhausted and ready to drop dead on the bed. You took your phone out of your bag and swan dived onto the sheets. A few notifications were waiting for you, including a few texts from Jin and Yoongi, another friend of yours. Apparently Jin had finished all the chicken before he arrived home, which was a new record for him and he had sent you a selfie of him and the empty Tupperware to prove it. You snickered and replied with a few thumbs up.

[You 20:34]: Glad u liked it! U know I never met anyone with such an unhealthy love for chicken, right?

[SeokJerk 20:35]: Ha… then stop feeding my addiction! Shaming me while enabling me… smh

[You 20:36]: Ugh why am I friends with u…

Jin sent an angel emoji and you decided that was enough Jin for today and then switched to Yoongi’s chat. It was just a series of pictures of a few different outfits and a question mark at the end. He was a man of few words. You knew Yoongi had an important gig coming up and he desperately needed your input, so it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t send an entire paragraph voicing his concerns about the wrong choice of attire. You answered with number 3 and a few flame emojis and heart eyes. Going for the fancy choice while also maintaining his casual style seemed like the best way to go. He replied a few seconds later with a thumbs up. Just as you were about to put down the phone, it dinged with another text from your roommate. Why he didn’t just knock and ask whatever it was he wanted, you didn’t know. He was probably being lazy like you right now.

[Mochi 20:46]: u still up? Netflix? Or u too tired?

You debated that for a second; it was only 9 pm, you could probably remain conscious for another 2 hours or so. Even though you had to pass by the hotel to meet Jin for lunch, you could sleep in.

[You 20:48]: Sure, u gotta come here tho bc I’m not moving

2 minutes later your door creaked as Jimin opened it and walked in the room with his laptop balanced on his arm,

“I picked something good this time, I swear”

He did, in fact, not pick something good.

________

When you woke up the next morning, Jimin was already out and about, busy bee that he is. You didn’t have to worry about getting ready just yet, since you didn’t have to meet Jin for another few hours, so you enjoyed the feeling of your soft and warm sheets for a few more minutes and played around on your phone until there was nothing left to do but get up.

Should you have breakfast? A question you asked yourself every day, regardless of the fact that the answer was always no. So, you skipped the trip to the kitchen for now and jumped in the shower straight away.

You should take care of some boring chores and house work today, as well, preferably before you met Jin.

The rice cake shop was closed for today so you didn’t have to worry about the mess downstairs for now. Maybe Jimin had left out some treats for you to take with you. You would go through the shop and check when you left.

___________

“Yah, Seokjin! Stop hoarding the sauce!”

You snatched the little bowl from under his nose while he was distracted and finally, you could dip your food into the spicy goodness,

“Leave some in there for other people”

You added and Jin tried to act like he didn’t know you were chastising him, of all people. It was no use anyway, so you changed the topic,

“Did you get Areum’s laundry done on time?”

Seokjin nodded his head, while chewing on a spoonful of rice,

“Luckily, yes. I owe the guys from laundry big time”

He swallowed the rice and took a deep, sobering breath,

“Don’t know what she would have done, if I didn’t show up with her favourite blanket, this morning…”

He visibly shuddered at the thought and you also felt an unpleasant tingle slide down the length of your spine,

“Let’s just be thankful you’re still in one piece, hm?”

You smiled sweetly at him and Jin briefly forgot what had him so shook just seconds ago. He watched you eat some grilled vegetables for a few moments until he snapped out of his reverie,

“Thank you for meeting me for lunch, Strawberry Flavor, it would have been so boring alone…”,

“You mean there would have been less food for you to devour”

You snickered to yourself and Jin huffed,

“Don’t make me look so bad, you brat! I’m still older than you, show some respect!”

He couldn’t help but smile at how, even he, couldn’t take himself seriously. You started laughing and had to put down the food you were about to put in your mouth,

“Alright, alright, I’m so sorry, Seokjin-Oppa… I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on, ok?”

You dragged out his name and your lips formed the most adorable little pout. Although he knew you were teasing him just now, Jin felt warmth flood his cheeks and he cleared his throat,

“Ah… yes… don’t worry about it, Strawberry Flavor”

He tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed him. Alas, he was but a man, sat in front of the prettiest woman he knew, trying not to look like the complete simp he was for you. A few moments of food-related silence ensured until you put down your bowl,

“I almost forgot, I brought these for you”

You suddenly started digging around in your purse and produced a little package wrapped in simple brown paper,

“These are from a batch Jimin and I made last night. They didn’t come out shaped as nicely as usual but I thought you wouldn’t mind having them, since we can’t sell them like this”

You held the package out to him and he put down his chopsticks to receive it,

“Seriously? You didn’t have to!”

He stumbled over his own words because he felt a little touched. You thought to bring him some of your lovely rice cakes? He unwrapped the package and found a colourful assortment of sweet rice treats in the paper,

He slapped a hand over his face in a theatrical way,

“Ahh, I can’t look at them for too long, they are so pretty! Strawberry Flavor, what are you doing to me…?”

You giggled happily like a little kid when you saw his reaction to the cakes and he had to smile,

“You have to look, though, if you want to eat them!”

You tried to gently lift his hand from his eyes,

“It’s too dangerous, I’ll go blind…”

He loved making you laugh, so he would ride this wave as long as you would let him,

“So, you’re never gonna look at my cakes again?”

Well. Not that he would mind looking at your cakes once in a while, he just felt really inappropriate doing so. Or were you talking about the rice cakes? Probably the more likely option…

“Don’t sound so disappointed”

He lifted his hand and put the cakes down on the table in front of him,

“What if I feed you one? You won’t have to look then”

“Ah, Strawberry Flavor, you’re so smart! I never would have thought of that”

You rolled your eyes at him but still you smiled. You picked up your chopsticks, lifted a rice cake from the package and held it to Jin’s lips. He slowly opened up and let you place the small treat inside his mouth.

You stared at him expectantly, eyes wide,

“Good?”

You asked and, even if the cakes didn’t taste as amazing and sweet as they did, Jin would have told you they were the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He closed his eyes and savoured the taste before he answered:

“They are amazing”

Your lips spread into a shy smile,

“Really?”

“Really”

“Maybe you can share them with the laundry staff as a thank you?”

You suggested and Jin’s eyes went wide in disbelief,

“Are you kidding? I may owe them but I don’t owe them enough for that”,

“You are impossible”,

“Impossible to please, yes, but these are pretty close to perfection”

He grinned and you tried to hide your smile,

“Now give me one more”

He opened his mouth and waited for you to feed him another rice cake. It really was the simple things in life, huh?

_________

Over the course of the next week you and Jimin perfected the new recipe for the revolutionised rice cakes you were going to permanently keep in your assortment of treats in the shop and they turned out to be just the right amount of chewy and sweet. You might have used Jin as your personal lab rat and fed him an obscene amount of cakes until his eyes got glassy and his shoulders sagged in satisfaction. ‘This is heavenly’ he had mumbled while chewing and you knew it wouldn’t get any better than that. Jimin trusted your opinion but he had, of course, also tasted a fair amount of cakes before he agreed with Jin’s judgement. Both of you were lucky you got a few extra days off, since you had collected some overtime in the last month, which gave you enough time to work on the cake recipe. Jimin was grateful for the extra time he got to spend with you, even if Jin had intruded on some of it. At least he got to feed you some of the extra cakes while Jin watched and tried to hide the, very much obvious, jealousy on his face.

That evening, when Jin left, he had touched your upper arm for just long enough for Jimin to consider it inappropriate. Of course, you were oblivious to their childish behaviour.

Today was your last day off before a new week of work started and there were no more cakes to prepare for the shop. Last night, Yoongi had texted you to ask if you wanted to join him for coffee and keep him company while he practised a piece for another upcoming show. You had said yes, since you hadn’t seen your friend in a while and you were happy, he wanted to spend time with you. He was the elusive kind of friend that surfaced out of the blue after periods of being completely dead to the world.

On your way to the university he studied at, you picked up coffee for both of you and a snack for Yoongi, since he usually forgot to eat when he was working on something. You found him in the usual place, already sitting at the piano on the far side of the room, playing away and not noticing your arrival until you plopped down on the bench next to him,

“Hey, Piano Man, take a coffee break”

He stopped playing and turned to you, clearly not having expected you yet,

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon”

He said, a surprised pout on his lips. You smiled and handed him the coffee and the snack you brought him,

“Left early so I could get you some sustenance”

“How do you know me so well, hm?”

He squinted his eyes at you suspiciously before opening the paper bag and taking an experimental sniff, then nodding approvingly,

“Well, I don’t have that many redeeming qualities but I like to think keeping the people I care about fed, so they stay healthy, is one of my better ones”

You smiled shyly and took a sip of your own coffee. You were wrong though, Yoongi thought. You had a ton of good qualities; far more than he ever thought could be found in a single person. You were the reason he was still in school, after all, and to hell if you didn’t think that counted for something,

“I don’t like it when you do that”

He mumbled under his breath and took a sip of that sweet, sweet bean juice that would bring warmth back into his heart and soul,

“Do what?”

You asked, creasing your brows in confusion,

“That thing where you talk badly about yourself and cover it up with humour”

You huffed and ran a hand through your hair,

“You act like you don’t do that, too”

You accused him and he gave you a look that just said ‘really?’

“I don’t, not like that, anyway. I know I’ve got some good qualities, I’m just super insecure, anxious and nervous at all times, there’s a difference”

Well. He got you there,

“So, stop talking like that, yeah? You know you’re a good person, Serenity, no need to doubt yourself”

He knew he didn’t have a way with words as much as he had a way with the keys on the piano. He just hoped that the essence of what he meant bled through the words and reached your core. He really did mean it like that: you were a good person. In fact, you were the best person in his life, even if he couldn’t show it in a way that he felt would be meaningful enough for you. Through all the problems and hardships thrown at him by his professors and the university and all the obstacles placed in his path by all the policies, regulations and deadlines, you had been there to support him and provide him with advice. You grounded him when his nerves threatened to reach a breaking point and you helped him find the calm and peaceful place in himself that he could retreat to when the world became too much.

He had told you so in his own way; calling you his Serenity, when he felt you needed a push to take his words seriously,

“Alright… I’ll work on it, ok?”

You picked at your nails when you agreed and he was satisfied with the conclusion,

“Ok”

He said calmly and sipped his coffee,

“So, how’s practice going?”

You asked, changing the topic,

“You tell me. You heard me playing when you snuck in like a damn ninja”

Yoongi answered and grinned,

“Everything you play sounds good to me but I’m also not a professional musician, so my opinion isn’t really gonna help you much…”

You would always tell him when you liked a piece, he introduced you to but beyond that? You had close to zero knowledge about music and all the terms and whatnot used to describe it, so Yoongi would have to be satisfied with you either saying ‘it’s great’ or ‘I love it’ repeatedly,

“Hm, fair enough”

He grumbled and turned back to the keyboard. To anyone else, he probably sounded condescending but you two were close enough for you to know, that was far from his intention. He just gave off particularly grumpy and unapproachable vibes at all times.

He sighed loudly and rolled his head around to loosen up some tension in his neck and shoulders,

“Alright… well, will you listen to it anyway?”

He asked and placed his hands on the keys according to the notes on the music sheet,

“Take it away, Maestro”

You said and the smallest smile crept its way onto his face before it scrunched up in concentration and he started playing.

_________

Work was really slow today for some reason. Well, as slow as work in the kitchen of a hotel with hundreds of guests can be. But it felt slower than usual and you had yet to feel like ripping your uniform off and quitting dramatically in the heat of the moment, like you usually did. The majority of the guests currently occupying the rooms were tourists, who only visited the small fishermen town for the yearly celebration of exactly that: the fishermen who had inspired the people of the town to celebrate their work over the hundreds of years since the town had been established. By now fishing wasn’t the main source of the town’s income anymore but regardless, the tradition of celebrating was still going strong. The main source of income was now tourism.

It also meant dinner shift didn’t make you want to repeatedly punch the wall. Who would’ve thought that less guests equals less work?

As you enjoyed a few minutes of relative peace and quiet in the kitchen, you thought about your own relationship with the festival. A while ago, you and your friends, and also some of their friends, had decided you’d all visit the festival together this year and you were looking forward to it. You and Jimin would have to man your little rice cake booth for a while but since you were the business owners you could decide when you would close up and enjoy the rest of the festivities. You would probably only have the booth up during the day and leave it closed in the evening so you would have time to join your friends and get the party going. The festival was approaching fast and you had a feeling it would be a series of nights to remember.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few new room-service orders, delivered by none other than your favourite colleague and intern, Seokjin. He entered the kitchen through the big double doors and invaded your workspace like it was nothing. Classic Jin,

“Strawberry Flavor, do you have time to make all this? It’s for Areum and another guest”

He handed you a note with a couple of orders scribbled onto it in terrible handwriting. Luckily you were accustomed to Jin’s writing by now and deciphering it was no problem for you anymore,

“Hm, sure, although… it’s already pretty late, Areum shouldn’t have any sugar before bedtime, don’t you think?”

You answered and Jin nodded, looking thoughtful,

“I guess you’re right… what else can you make for her? I don’t wanna show up empty handed”

You mulled it over for a second, tapping you bottom lip with your pointer finger,

“How about something light like a yogurt with a little bit of fruit in it? Nothing special but I can make it look really nice for her”

You suggested and taped the note to your workstation, so you could get started on the other orders, as well,

“Sounds good”

Jin simply said and leaned against the counter to watch you prepare the food. Like yours, his day had been a little less eventful than usual and he was thankful for the extra time he got to relax in between chores. He chose to use a few minutes to talk to you and watch you work. He liked seeing you whirl around the kitchen and grabbing ingredients here and there to put together a perfect meal. He loved food and he loved it even more when you were the one to prepare it. He was sure all the guests that were lucky enough to have their food made by you could taste all the love and effort you put into it,

“Jin, can you come help me? I can’t reach the damn pan on the shelf!”

Jin listened up and pushed himself away from the counter to walk over to where you were standing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the highest shelf,

“Sure”

He said and before you could step aside to make room for him, he stood behind you and placed a hand right next to you to support his weight while he slightly pushed his body forward to reach the shelf. You felt his chest pressed to your back and suddenly your hands felt a little clammy,

“I can reach it but I can’t move it, there’s too much other stuff around on the shelf”

Jin said and you cursed the person who reorganized the shelves the other day,

“Wait a second, I’ll get you something to step on”

You mumbled and tried to move away from Jin but he had a different idea,

“Don’t bother, I’ll just pick you up and you can get it. It’ll be easier, just do it like this”

He maneuvered you around until he was leaning with his back against the shelf and you stood in front of him. Usually you would have protested against this. So much physical contact was not only strange for you and Jin but it was also inappropriate in your place of work,

“Jin, what are you doing?”

You mumbled to yourself while Jin was already bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your middle. You took a deep breath and let out a surprised squeak when Jin lifted you off the ground. The position was more than inappropriate but Jin didn’t seem to mind,

“Is this ok? Am I holding you too tight?”

He asked, seeming concerned with your uncomfortable expression,

“No, no”

You cleared your throat and started to support yourself with your hands on his shoulders,

“It’s fine, just… don’t drop me, ok?”

you looked down at his handsome face and he smiled gently up to you,

“Don’t worry, I won’t”

You held onto his shoulders a little tighter. They felt nice, strong. Did he work out?

“Can you get it?”

He asked and you remembered the pan, so you let go of his shoulders,

“Ah… yes, just a second”

No rush, thought Jin. You started rummaging around the shelf and moving things around to make room for the pan. While you moved around a little more you felt Jin squeeze you a little tighter and it didn’t feel as uncomfortable anymore.

Jin knew he had taken a risk with this but he also just wanted an opportunity to get closer to you. He didn’t do anything too inappropriate; he would never touch you in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. He knew you trusted him and he knew you knew that he valued that trust. Thus, he also knew, you wouldn’t mind it if he held you like this. Granted, he didn’t think his face would be this close to your boobs but it wasn’t like he would ever complain about that. He wouldn’t mind being even closer.

You had finally managed to procure the pan without pushing anything else off the shelf and Jin had let you slowly slide out of his secure grip until you were the one looking up at him, again. You brushed your shirt off and cleared your throat once more before awkwardly thanking him,

“I’ll get back to work…”

You mumbled and walked back to your station. You couldn’t exactly explain why you felt a little nervous all of a sudden. Or why your mouth had run dry. Or why you felt a tingle in the places where Jin’s big and gentle hands had touched you. You also couldn’t exactly explain why your innocent friendship suddenly didn’t feel so innocent anymore.

_________

Jimin couldn’t pick you up from work tonight and when you got home, you peeked through his open door and found him already fast asleep in his bed. You had hoped he would still be up when you came home but you guessed practice must have been especially exhausting today. You quietly closed the door and retreated to your own room to unwind and then go to sleep, too. Tomorrow would be an eventful day for both of you, since you needed to transport your little booth to its spot on the festival area and decorate it; make it look pretty and approachable for all the visitors and potential customers.

Together, you had developed a nice decoration scheme and decided to go with minimal but effective. Small but cute decorative figures and little Stickers for the children to take with them. Working with Jimin was always so easy. You couldn’t remember even a single time when you and him had to argue about something because you both preferred to stay rational and talk it out like adults.

You had recruited Jin and one of Jimin’s closer friends, Namjoon, to help you transport and set up your booth. You weren’t thrilled at Joon’s involvement in the delicate process because the independent writer had a reputation for being one of the clumsiest people alive. And even if you were thankful for the help, you were going to need to be prepared to deal with any major damage Joon would most likely cause.

For now, all you wanted to do was sleep and recharge for the events of the next day, yet you felt restless.

Nervousness started to creep in on you and you only tossed and turned in your sheets, unable to fall asleep. Were your rice cakes really going to sell tomorrow? Would the visitors of the festival actually consider your booth and try the cakes? Maybe the recipe wasn’t perfect, yet, after all… Suddenly you sat up and sighed deeply,

“Ah.,. let’s just check the recipe one last time, I won’t be able to sleep, anyway”

You mumbled to yourself and pulled a thin nightgown over your body before you made your way back through the dark apartment. Stumbling over a box you or Jimin left in the hallway, you made your way down into the shop and started putting together the ingredients for the dough. You tried to rustle around the kitchen as quietly as possible, not wanting to risk waking up Jimin, who clearly needed the rest more than you,

“Ok… let’s do this”

Cracking your knuckles, you looked at the prepared work space.

The bowls of ingredients stared back at you, taunting you and your skills as a baker,

“Ugh, this is ridiculous”

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. It couldn’t be so hard, could it? Why was this making you so nervous?

“Rice cake? What are you doing in the shop so late?

Jimin’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see him standing on the last step the stairs and leaning against the wall. He was looking at you, squinting his eyes sleepily and trying to adjust to the light,

“Jimin, why are you up? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet”

You said and moved around a little to try and cover up the bowls behind you,

“Are you ok? You look stressed”

Jimin walked over to you and put his hand against your forehead, trying to feel your temperature,

“I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep”

You pulled his hand away from your forehead,

“Do you need something to help you sleep? Tea, maybe? I can make you some soup or porridge- “

“Jimin, I’m fine, really”

You smiled at his suggestions, loving how he wanted to care of you,

“Thank you, though. I think I just need a minute or so, to calm down”

He nodded and pursed his lips, then he noticed all the stuff behind you on the counter,

“What’s all this?”

He craned his neck to get a better look and you gently pushed against his chest to avoid having to explain yourself,

“You want to prepare cakes, right now? It’s the middle of the night”

His creased brows and confused expression made you feel a little bit guilty,

“What’s really going on? Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

He asked and you felt yourself at a loss for words,

“I- “

You were surprised time and time again, how well Jimin knew you and could how easily he could tell what really went on inside your head,

“Well… if you really wanna know, then, yes. I’m a little worried”

You confessed and turned your eyes to the floor, then continued your explanation:

“I’m worried people won’t like our booth and the cakes. We’ve put so much work into this shop… what if it was all just a waste of time? I know the locals like what we do but that won’t be enough to sustain a growing business for long, you know? I was hoping we’d branch out eventually, maybe open up another shop in the next big city, or something. If we can’t convince a few lousy tourists to buy from us, then how are we going to establish ourselves anywhere else?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That people won’t like the cakes?”

He asked and you pouted. When he said it like that, your worries seemed so small and unreasonable,

“Yeah…”

You kicked at some imaginary dirt, wanting to avoid Jimin’s kind eyes at every cost but he wouldn’t have it, trying to wiggle into your line of sight even if you turned your head away from him,

“Hey, Rice Cake, look at me…”

“No, I feel stupid for worrying”

“It’s not stupid to care about what you do. This shop and the cakes, they’re your babies. They’re also my babies but without you, I wouldn’t even have made it to this point. So, don’t feel stupid for wanting to succeed”

Maybe he had a point, you thought. You let out a quiet breath and lifted your gaze to find Jimin smiling reassuringly at you,

“Ok”

“Ok? You sure?”

He asked and gently nudged your arm with his elbow,

“Yes, I’m sure”

You said, finally smiling again,

“Good. Now tell me… is it only me, or are you suddenly craving something sweet?”

Jimin raised his brows expectantly,

“I don’t know, I guess I could eat something”

You answered and Jimin chuckled,

“Then it’s a good thing we’re both so good at baking, right?”

Jimi whipped past you and started to mix up all the stuff you had laid out and you just watched in astonishment, unable to believe the nerve of this guy,

“What are you waiting for? Get to it, the flour won’t sift itself”

You just shook your head, smiling to yourself and thanking every higher power out there, that Park Jimin existed in your life.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence for a while. You worked well together in the kitchen. All the time spent down here, working on recipes, manoeuvring around the limited space without bumping into each other had really helped your coordination as a team. Jimin had whipped up some creamy dough and you were about to prepare the steamer. You watched Jimin whisk the mixture a little more until he was satisfied with the consistency. You watched him curiously, prepared to take the batter off his hands and form little balls to put in the steamer but you found yourself not only watching the whisk but also the arm whisking it. A very nice arm, one might say. Smooth skin, visible veins and strong muscle, all working together to create a picture you found yourself admiring a little, if you were being honest. Objectively speaking, Jimin was handsome; no one, not even you, could deny it. Years of passionate dancing had shaped his body in a way, that you could definitely appreciate. Even though you lived together, you had never seen Jimin wearing less than jeans and a t-shirt. An unspoken rule about decency had always kept you two from crossing each other when you were wearing anything other than a full outfit. The fact that he was standing before you in a tank top and sleeping shorts, was what made this situation feel even more out of the ordinary, than it already did.

You pulled your nightgown tighter around yourself, more aware of your own state of (un)-dress. Your shorts were even shorter than Jimin’s and you wondered, if he also felt a little weird about the situation. If he did, he didn’t let it show,

“You ready for me, Rice Cake?”

He asked you without looking up from the bowl,

“Yes, I’m ready”

“Wanna taste it first? Make sure it’s good?”

Jimin’s voice suddenly didn’t sound so soft and gentle anymore. You stuttered and then cleared your throat,

“Um, I trust you”

You replied, sounding a little insecure,

“You sure?”

Jimin looked up at you now, focused on your unsure expression. He put away the whisk and slowly dipped a finger into the batter and then placed it in his mouth, without breaking eye contact.

A quiet moan left him and he smiled,

“Come try it, have a little taste”

He beckoned you forward with a curled finger and your feet moved on their own accord until they were planted firmly on the ground, next to Jimin’s

“Ok”

You mumbled and looked up at him,

“Close your eyes”

He said and you sighed and let your eyes fall closed,

“I’m sure it’s good, we’ve worked on the recipe for- “

You were caught off guard and simply obeyed without a second thought, opening your mouth. A second later you felt Jimin place his finger on your tongue, covered in batter. You closed your lips around it and opened your eyes, finding Jimin’s gaze fixed on your lips, with his own slightly parted. You tasted the sweetness of the batter and let the taste overrun your senses. With your tongue slowly starting to move around Jimin’s finger and gently sucking on it, you were able to taste all of it; the sweet, the tangy and the slightly salty taste of Jimin’s skin.

“Good?”

He asked, voice sounding a little strained. You nodded,

“Yeah? You like it?”

He asked again and you looked up at him with wide eyes, slowly letting his finger slide out from between your lips,

“I like it”

You said and Jimin ran his other hand through his hair. He had to look away; you were too sexy for your own good.

And you didn’t even notice it! The worst of it all was, that he had never seen you wear anything like this before: just a camisole with thin straps and sleeping shorts. Not to mention that scrap of a night gown. He’d never seen so much of your skin and he had to admit, it was becoming harder and harder no to reach out and touch the smooth-looking skin of your upper arm, where your shoulders started, or accidentally brush his fingers against the soft skin of your thighs in passing.

He was about to pop the most uncomfortable boner while you licked your lips and didn’t even pretend to acknowledge the sexual tension in the small room,

“Ok, good…”

Jimin mumbled and wiped his finger on his shorts before he grabbed the bowl and stepped around you to the steamer. He quickly needed to focus on something else because he didn’t want to risk accidentally bumping his problem into you and making things awkward. He thought maybe you didn’t notice how his shorts slightly tented and he did his best to turn his body away from you, while he filled small portions of the batter into the steamer. Maybe he could get you to leave and have some time to cool down again,

“Ah… Rice Cake, why don’t you go ahead and wait upstairs, hm? This won’t take long. I’ll bring them up when they’re finished”

He smiled at you reassuringly,

“What are you talking about, this was my idea. I can’t let you slave away over this alone…”

You pouted slightly and took a step towards him,

“No, no, don’t worry! I’ll take care of it, get some rest, ok?”

You considered it for a second and then sighed. He may have sounded slightly more panicked than necessary but hey, if it did the trick,

“Ok, if you’re sure… I guess I’m a little more tired than before”

You said and promptly yawned,

“Go to sleep, you need the rest”

Jimin ushered you out with a wave of his hands and a last cute smile and then he could finally let out a deep breath,

“Well, that was close”

He said to himself, after he heard the door to the upper floor close, then wiped the metaphorical sweat off of his brow,

“Ah, seriously Jimin-ah, what are you, 12?”

he looked down at himself and pointed a finger at the, still very much visible, tent in his pants as a warning,

“You could have gotten us in trouble…”

Then he shook his head and sighed, remembering the little cakes in the steamer. He hoped you would already be asleep by the time he brought the last batch upstairs because he wouldn’t be able to handle the visual of him, feeding you a few of them, after what had just happened.

Later, when he was finally back in bed, he still wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him. You, however, slept like a blissfully ignorant baby that night.

_________

Thank you so much for reading! Part two is now here !

#bts fanfction #bts #BTS jin #BTS suga #bts jimin #Joon makes a quick appearance #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #Jin is a dork #Jimin is the sweetest bean #Yoongi is bad with feelings #I love them #please ignore how much i mention rice cakes #itshardcandy #hardcandywriting

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