#thank you Tinni for the name of the cafe!

[serosvit]

Snape is a very busy man, but it's raining, so he stopped for a cup of coffee...

#severus snape fanart #snapedom #this is completely random because i just wanted to draw snape thinking and drinking coffee #thank you Tinni for the name of the cafe! #my art

[queerbuckleys]

YOU WERE LIGHTING FLARES CHAPTER TWO: 'CAUSE I DON'T SEE YOU LIKE I USED TO [1.4k | angst | emotional hurt comfort] {ao3} prev.

a/n: fair warning that this chapter deals with the sadder/darker parts of working with the tiny babies, nothing is directly said but it is strongly eluded to that Eddie and team lost one of their patients. titles from waking up slow by gabrielle aplin.

Buck starts bringing three servings of whatever meal he picks up to the hospital. 

Then he starts going when Maddie isn’t even there. The texting is non- stop. But they have only always spent time together at the hospital either in the breakroom or the little cafe in the lobby. It was never particularly romantic per se, but there was a deep understanding, trust, and connection between them that they both felt–but never spoke of. 

He visits the nursery and watches the babies as they grow, as they graduate, and the new ones that come along. Sometimes it isn’t always the happy ending they wanted. Those days when there is a soft somber blanket wrapped around the room, Buck brings extra coffee and pastries. Puts a dash of sugar in Eddie's and makes sure he gets his favorite. They don’t talk about it, just like they don’t talk about when Buck is extra quiet on his visits. 

Eddie's calling Buck. Which isn’t something that was terribly unusual. It’s just that Buck knows that Eddie’s supposed to be in the last few hours of a shift, and Eddie only texts during his break. 

He picks up and there’s a brief second of silence- he’s not entirely sure what to say. 

“Please tell me you saved a cute cat from a tree today or something,” Eddie sounds on the verge of tears. It’s a tone of voice Buck recognizes instantly. The nearly hysterical edge is sharper than an arrow. He’s heard it before from Maddie and even himself. And it makes something ache in his chest, he wants to fix everything that made Eddie feel that way. 

“Eddie-“ 

“Please Buck, I can't talk about it yet.” Buck had never heard Eddie like this before. And it sounded strange coming from him. He was usually just quiet. 

“That's okay. You don’t have to. I- I’m just worried about you. You’re not alone are you?” 

“I am,” he sounds almost scared to admit it.  

“Okay I’m coming over.” 

Buck takes a breath as he finds his keys and slips on his shoes, “So today, Chimney, who is like completely head over heels for Maddie by the way even if he can’t see it, please do tease her about it, tried to make Cap’s famous mac and cheese. We ended up having to order pizza. And we did actually rescue a cat from a tree today, and he was indeed cute. Orange tabby, named Teddy. All that was missing from my day was a dalmatian.” 

Buck hears a watery laugh through the tinny speakers that suddenly dissolves into tears. 

“I hate it when we don’t win.” Eddie sobs, air desperately trying to find its way in. 

“I know. You’re always gonna have me though. To catch you.” Because there were always going to be lost battles. “For as long as I am breathing or as long as you’ll let me, I'll catch you.” It feels heavy and like too much of a promise for a new blossoming friendship. But it was the truth. It felt like something was tying itself around his heart at that moment. 

Buck bites his lip and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel as he turns onto Eddie's street. 

“The doors unlocked.” Eddie says after a moment. 

He finds Eddie slumped against the wall near the bathroom. Still in his scrubs. Knees bent in front of him. 

“I've been doing this for years. They told us in the classes. This isn’t the first time. But,” 

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter. You’re human Eddie. It's okay. Now, let’s get you out of these scrubs you’ve been wearing for what I'm guessing is entirely too long.” Eddie nods as he offers his hands, “okay, up!” 

Eddie takes them and is willingly hauled up to standing. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly and he turns and walks toward what Buck assumes to be his bedroom. 

Buck leans in the doorway as Eddie digs through drawers finding a clean shirt and sweatpants. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks gently. Eddie freezes and looks up at him biting his lip. 

“…do you want to?” 

“I was thinking about ordering Thai, Chim and Maddie are doing their “not date” thing tonight so-“ 

“You don’t want to be alone either huh?” Eddie smiles weakly. 

“Guess not. You want some Pad Thai?” 

“Sure” Eddie nods, “that sounds… good.” 

“Good. I’ll just, um, go order in the living room while you-“ 

Eddie nods again and Buck backs away from the door. 

He orders the food pretty quickly and then takes stock of the photos that line the mantle. His eyes lock on one of Eddie and a young boy, they have the same smile spread across their faces, the boy has glasses. Then Buck notices that he’s in almost every photo. And then there’s the one of a young brunette woman, she’s smiling at the beach, the sun making her hair glow just a little. There's a candle underneath the picture and a pair of rings next to it. And Buck can’t breathe. 

“That's Shannon.” Eddie says from behind him. 

Buck jumps as he turns looking wide eyed. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“ 

“Nah, it’s okay,” he replies as Eddie takes a few steps to come up closer to the mantle.

“She is Christopher's mother.” 

Buck's eyes drift to a photo of Shannon and the young boy, “and um Christopher, he’s my son.” Every word is weighted with an unspoken understanding.

“Oh” 

“Does that-“

“Oh, God no! I love kids- he is adorable!” 

“She uh, she died a little less than a year ago. When I said I wasn't ready- it’s because of her. I loved her in all the ways I could but we- she wanted a divorce just before she died. Screwed me up for a while. Then I figured out the whole, um gay thing. And that screwed with me in a whole new way. Honestly still working through all that. But I really like you. And that’s why I'm telling you all this. Cause it’s important and if you can’t deal with all th-“ 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence Eddie Diaz. I said I'll catch you, and I meant it. Baggage and all. And I'll get ya back one of these days. I have some kinda batshit baggage too.” 

Eddie smiles a little. And Buck feels like he won an award. 

They naturally end up on the couch and Eddie turns on the tv. 

The food is delivered and they eat in silence, a chenille blanket pooled around their waists. 

Eddie twirls his noodles with the chopsticks, “I’ll catch you too you know, anytime you need it.” 

Buck nods, one side of his mouth quirked up.

Yeah, he won the lottery. 

He's standing outside the nursery, mirroring the first time he visited. He's drinking coffee, this time another cup in his hand that he dutifully hands to Eddie before either of them say a word. 

“Thank god for you,” Eddie sighs around the first gulp, and Buck smirks. 

“I know you don’t have long, but I just wanted to swing by. Check in.” After last shift. 

Eddie bites the corner of his bottom lip, “We’re doing okay. I- I’m, I wanted to ask you about something?” 

Buck sips his coffee with an expectant look. 

“So, I totally get it if your schedule is too busy or you just-“ 

“What is it Eddie?” 

“We have this program, where people come in and hold the babies that are either wards of the state or their parents aren’t able to for whatever reason. It helps them. It’s mostly older ladies and people who’ve lost theirs or even almost did. Nicest people I know to be honest. And I guess I was wondering if you wanted to- I just think you would be really good at it.” He takes a sip of coffee turning to the window. 

“Oh. you think I-“ there’s a disbelief in his voice he doesn’t remember conjuring. 

“Yeah I do.” 

“I didn't know it was an option. I- I think I would really like that. I’ve read some stuff about skin to skin contact and stuff and how important that can be for development.” 

“You wouldn't have to- that’s not why I-“ 

“I know,” Buck smiles shyly, “I'll think about it.” 

Later that evening he taps out a text; 

To: eddie 🩺 how do i sign up? is there a link somewhere? 

He immediately receives a text in return

From: eddie🩺 Yeah! Here :) (Oh nice you learned about question marks!)

#buddie #911fic #aj writes stuff #usermoonlight #userbuckleyhans #tuserksn #tusercourty #userceecee #usersharky #useroliii #useryb #userweres

[bluecoolr]

For Life Or Until Fault

Alt Timeline 2.0 - Darrell x Odile Part 3

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Main characters are slasher ocs!

Darrell is mine ♡

Odile belongs to @solmints-messyocdiary

In protest, Darrell went ahead and took the day off. He had confronted Ilya about what the boy had revealed the day before. His response?

"What happened to our former employees is of no concern to you. Do what we ask, if you want the checks to keep coming."

Darrell had slammed the guardhouse door closed. He came home and decided a bath might help. The manor house's dilapidated bathroom was Georgian, with its indulgent spaciousness and crescent four-footed tub. It reminded him of the sanatorium baths, of Sister Agatha combing his wet hair, snipping off the ends to keep it manageable.

Darrell had insisted on cold baths - even in winter, which baffled Sister Agatha. Presently, he lay down in the bath, submerged to his ears, a face floating on the surface as he stared at the crumbling plaster ceiling rose.

Cold water for blood, he thought in a voice that wasn't his own. He sat up, weary of such unsettling pieces that seemed to swim up from his forgotten past.

He got out of the tub and drained the soapy water. He tracked wet footprints on the wooden floorboards and slipped silently into his clothes. He loaded a cassette into his Walkman - Led Zeppelin - and decided to go for a walk.

He could hear Ilya scream at him when he passed through the gate. "Where do you think you're going?! Get back here!"

Darrell kept walking. A kilometer. Then another, and he found himself in town. The afternoon bell chimed in the church steeple, overpowering the tinny mechanical clock that jutted up from the courthouse roof. Darrell shielded his eyes as he walked past the church. A gaggle of school girls in pleated skirts shuffled by, their glances lingering on him.

They followed him around, which made him uncomfortable. After a quick round of shopping. He sat down at a cafe's outdoor table, taking his time with a warm slab pie. He pretended not to notice the girls, keeping his eyes on the golden apple cuts wedged between the pastry.

Just before their ringleader went up to take the vacant seat across from him, he felt tiny hands on his shoulder and a low "Boo!"

The boy from the graveyard laughed and sat down. "Thought I recognized you," he said, swinging his feet.

Darrell smiled, thankful for the intervention and the company. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I don't go. Grandpa's pension isn't enough to pay." The boy was pressing random buttons on Darrell's Walkman.

"So, what do you do?"

"I work."

Darrell was suddenly hit by a wave of sorrow. The boy's fingernails were caked in dirt. There was a dark ring of swear on his t-shirt collar. "What kind of work?"

"There's this rich lady in the best part of town. I get paid a little to help out in her garden."

Darrell figured, what with the muddy carrots he had plopped on the table. Probably came from the same garden he worked on, and the worst out of the pick. "You want something to eat?" he asked.

He bought the kid hot food and a cold drink. He was halfway done with the frothy pink milkshake when they heard a grizzled old man's voice. "Sacha!"

Apparently, Sacha had been due for home for about an hour. How, in God's name, did he expect to make the chicken-carrot soup without the carrots?

The chicken-carrot soup turned out to be mostly carrot, Darrell discovered. A single cube of chicken bouillon provided the idea of chicken.

Grandpa had invited Darrell for supper once Sacha introduced. "He saw the samodiva, Papa," Sacha had whispered.

"Be careful, boy," the old man said between spoonfuls of soup. "Samodivas are hostile. You're in grave danger."

"Why's that, sir?"

Grandpa nearly choked on the broth. "Why, samodivas are vile enchantresses! Men who lay eyes on a samodiva fall instantly and madly in love."

A memory. Strange. Distant. Like a dream. The most beautiful face he had ever seen. Cool cheeks. Golden hair.

"Sometimes," continued Grandpa, "a samodiva would seduce a man, take him for her lover. She would pull from him his life's energy. He would become obsessed - a slave to her every whim. With that same energy, the samodiva would milk him dry until he died of exhaustion."

Sacha listened attentively, completely aware that he was hearing something he wasn't supposed to.

"You're virile. They'll definitely covet you."

Darrell's face was a deep shade of red. A sharp jingling startled him. Sacha had produced the string of sleigh-bells he had bought earlier. "What's this?" asked the child, "Are you decorating for Christmas already?"

The two men ignored the question. Grandpa leaned in and sternly told him, "Stay away from the woods. Don't go looking for her."

Grandpa dutifully offered to give him a lift back to the cemetery. Apparently, he did minimal delivery work. "Vegetables and such. Never 10 kilometers from town."

"You're sure it's no trouble?" asked Darrell, feeling very embarrassed.

"Of course! Besides, I want to see if my daughter's grave is still intact."

Sacha fell asleep during the drive, lulled by U2's "With or Without You" playing on Darrell's Walkman. Grandpa looked at him fondly as he slept leaning against Darrell's chest.

"We lost his mother when he was very young," Grandpa explained, "His father ran off when he was younger."

Darrell held Sacha closer, rubbing the pad of his thumb over and over his shoulder.

They parked on the shoulder of the road a couple of feet from the cemetery gate.

"I can't leave him in the truck. I'll have to wake him up."

Darrell told him no. "It's fine." He carried Sacha in his arms. "I'll walk you to her grave."

There was a wet, appreciative glimmer in the old man's eyes. He paused and finally nodded at the gesture. "Alright."

Darrell left Sacha - coat pocket stuffed with lei - with Grandpa and returned to the manor house.

Isabelle was frantic by the time he walked through the door. He bent down to pet her and produced the cord of bells. He shook them and Isabelle's ears pricked up.

Pleased, Darrell said, "Atta girl. Now, let's see if I can train you to track the sound."

Darrell befriended the gravedigger soon after, and asked him to tie a string of sleigh-bells around the waist of new corpses up for burial.

A/N: leu (pl. lei) -> Moldovan currency

#darrell todd #slasher oc #oc: odile #odile #friends oc #alt timeline 2.0 #odile x darrell #darrell x odile #bluecoolr.txt #oc writing #for life or until fault

[jostweinberger-archived]

Gel Asics, faded blue jeans, unironed gray shirt and a tattered beige jacket.

Smelling like smoke he shuffles into the cafe and takes a stand at the bar in front of one of the many TVs, each showing a different football match.

The owner of the Lokal greets him by name and with a smile.

A bottle of Sterni is placed in front of him without prompt.

Adem has become a regular over the past months after he sold his grocery store to his cousin to pay off his debt.

His unkempt beard slowly turning gray at the fringes, he contemplates dyeing. Surely then his chances of finding a partner would increase. No, what he really needs is money. With a new car, fresher clothes and maybe even a dyed beard. Surely he will find a fine partner, maybe even one of Persian heritage.

And so, he confidently places a 35 euro bet on Sheraldo Becker,

1. FC Unions star striker. Having already scored five goals this Bundesliga season.

He must be an excellent return on investment in this game against Vfl Wolfsburg.

As the ball on the screen gets passed around the field in a quick salvo of passes, Adem reaches into his jacket's breast pocket to pull out a limp pouch of rolling tobacco and tips and carelessly tosses them on the bar counter. He fumbles for his papes, but his unkempt yellow stained fingers can't seem to find them. He turns to the solem gentleman staring into his glass standing at the far end of the bar.

With conviction and a tinge of embarrassment to signify that normally he's above asking others for things, he booms “Ey Bruder! Hast du Papes?”.

The gentleman awakens from his daydream and grudgingly hands over his papes.

Adem strides over and takes two papers from the pack.

The gentleman waves him away before he can say thank you. As he returns to his spot the stadium crowd gives a tinny roar through the TV speakers as Union Berlin scores.

Unfortunately for Adem it was Genki Haraguchi who made the goal.

The sounds of a packed stadium take him back to his childhood when his father was still involved in his life and took him to watch matches in Antalya Stadium. He misses the time when watching the match was thrilling enough. But once money became involved the rush of higher personal stakes in a game has become irresistible.

He distracts himself by gesturing to the Barkeeper for a light. The smoke of the cig shimmering to the ceiling bathes in blue light cast by LED strips used to punch up the gloomy attitude of money losers. Adem was on the brink of thinking of a Bug Zapper metaphor when SHERALDO BECKER LOCKS ONTO THE GOAL WITH THE BALL AND SCORES!! He dances to the swing of emotions.

His hairs rise as if to join the celebration. The owner applauds his win and enters the winnings into Adems account.

167 euros Adem has won.

His palms sweat, “Doppelt-Oder-Nichts aufs nächste Tor von Union Berlin Bruder” he mutters.

The owner grins.

#Spotify

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

Your feet were killing you in those too-high heels. Heading firstly to the bar and then onwards to a comfy-looking sofa right next to it, you sank down into it and crossed your legs as elegantly as you could. Then you took the biggest damn slug out of the G&T in your hand that you could manage.

What a boring, tedious, stupid freaking cocktail party this was.

You owed your little cousin a major favour, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

Saying ‘no’ to start with, she’d begged and pleaded with you, then finally threatened to tell your parents she’d recently picked you up from police custody unless you went along in her place.

Leaving work just as she called, you heard her tinny voice mentioning the Parent Threat and you stopped dead in your tracks, hastily taking her off speaker. People were tutting at you for being in the way, so you quickly moved to the side as you hissed, “Shut up!” at her.

Not so long ago, there had been a certain little public disorder thing you’d become embroiled in. Well, okay, had kind of started. In fact it was the reason why your boyfriend was now your ex-boyfriend.

You’d both been at a rowdy house party, got really very drunk and you’d eventually lost him in the mob of gyrating, smoking and over-imbibing bodies. As someone had cheerfully informed you when you asked where the Missing Link was, you found out he was very busy indeed on the patio with his tongue lodged down some unknown female’s throat.

You’d sucker-punched him and hard-slapped her, and a long, loud screaming match ensued. You’d been in the winning corner as far as you were concerned. But...ha, yeah... that was the sound of the police. Being let off with a caution not to be a naughty girl again, your ‘Angel Face’ look lasted until the door of the cop shop hit you on the butt on your way out.

The first thing you did as you walked away was send the “Fuck Off and Never Contact Me Again” text to your now-ex. Second, you texted your cousin and asked for a lift. Hence the favour you owed her.

You’d sighed and agreed you’d cover for her at this ‘do’. There was no way your parents could ever find out about this; you’d graduated with a Business degree a few years back, had recently opened your second cafe & patisserie in town and were therefore designated as a ‘responsible adult’ in their eyes. They’d be truly appalled if they knew what you’d done, although you were sure you’d get at least a little sympathy from them due to the circumstances.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were just taking another huge gulp of G&T when someone was suddenly looming over you, and you glanced up to see a guy who figuratively had “Lounge Lizard” written all over him. Inwardly you sighed, but just stared at him, expression neutral, to see what his approach was going to be.

“Well, hi,” he beamed, his eyes flicking over you, “can I buy you a drink, pretty lady?”

Yeah, about what you expected. You decided to go with Polite Reply No 1.

“Thanks for offering, I’m fine right now though.”

He parked himself on the sofa next to you, angling his body towards you. “Aw, you sure I can’t tempt you? You look a little... thirsty.”

Ooooh you asshole, you thought. You’ve just moved up the scale to Eviscerating Reply No 2.

You opened your mouth to speak, about to bring out the big guns, when another figure stopped beside you. A hand landed on your shoulder, fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“There you are, angel. Sorry I took so long.”

You looked up at the man who’d spoken; tall, lean, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. And handsome. Very handsome.

“Uh.. it’s fine, darling. I just got myself a little G&T while I was waiting.”

Lounge Lizard put up his hands, mumbling an apology and moving away abruptly.

Your saviour looked down at you, a small smile on his lips, “You looked like you needed rescuing.”

“Well, I could’ve handled him perfectly well, but I appreciate the assistance.”

He held out his hand, “Billy Russo. CEO of Anvil. It’s a private security company.” “Oh, OK.. I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of it,” you replied as you shook his hand. You gave him your name, without saying anything else. He looked at you, a little puzzled.

He nodded his head back towards the main crowd, “These are all mainly current and ex military types, sprinkled with security guys like me.” His dark brown eyes looked deep into yours, “So how come you haven’t heard of Anvil?” You shifted on the couch slightly, damn - he’d found you out.

Your cousin - who worked in Admin at one of said security firms - had said you just needed to provide a face to go with the invite. She didn’t want to miss out on any future invites by passing up on this one.

“Look, Mr Russo...” you started saying. “Billy,” he interrupted you. “Billy... okay, look. I’m just filling in for my little cousin who works in security. I run my own business but it’s nothing to do with...” you waved a hand around, “....all this. Can we keep that between ourselves, please?”

A mischievous gleam came into his eyes, and he smiled at you. It was just a small smile, hardly lifting his lips, but you suddenly felt there was something dangerous behind it. “For a price.”

Oh here we go, you thought. Here you were thinking he was a nice enough guy, and he’s really just a smartass after all.

You raised an eyebrow, unsmiling, “What’s the price?”

“Come for a drink with me.... but not here. Let’s go somewhere else.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo

[star-lemonade]

Iced Americano

Ateez Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: fluff

Cw: being tapped in an elevator

Rating: G

Word count: 2.2 k

The coffee shop on the ground floor of the building you worked in was a fixture in your daily routine. Every morning you would enter through the glass door and get in line. There were a few tables, but at this time in the morning no one was sitting down. Everyone wanted a coffee to go. The line for the counter seemed to get longer every day. You should not wish for any one to get laid off, but you wanted the guy fired. The barisa was a young man but that did not he was agaile in any way. He was slow and made a lot of mistakes. He did not want to be there, it was written all over his face. Every day you wished that he would quit. It was mean, but he would do better somewhere else. Yes, he should do something that he actually enjoyed.

Today was the day where everything was different. It was your usual time, but there was barely a queue. You got in line after two men in suits and soon it was your turn. It became clear why there was no queue. The old barista had left and there he was, the cutest guy you had ever seen. He had a smile that everyone wanted to be the recipient of. It was so charming the phrase “to be wrapped around someone’s finger” suddenly made sense. There was a moment in which you just wanted to be in any shape that would please the cute guy with the two toned hair.

“Good Morning! What can I get you?”

He beamed at you and his voice was so cheerful, you automatically smiled back. The little beauty mark under his eye added to his already beautiful face.

“Ehm… one iced americano.”

...and your number, please. You did not say that out loud of course, but you definitely thought about it, when you were at your desk. He must get that a lot.

Mornings got way more relaxed and exciting. You found yourself looking forward to seeing the cute barista. He did not wear a name tag so you did not know what his name was and you were too awkward to ask him. These days you could be found at the coffee shop in the afternoon too. You would get something that was not coffee and sit down at a table. For ten minutes or so you would get your mind off work and watch the barista work. You marveled at little drawings he made on the cappuccinos and the ease with which he handled his work. He had fun, genuine fun, doing his work. It was not something you saw often. For most people their work was soul crushing and they would not do it, if it was not for the money they needed to pay their bills. The barista however loved it to make coffee and other drinks for the customers.

It was Thursday evening and no one was in the office any more. Well, almost no one. It was just you and the three people, who had a meeting in one of the conference rooms. You had finished what you had to do, but at what cost? The summer sun was setting outside. It was late already. You shut down the computer and stretched. It had been a long day and going home was your only objective now. How nice it would be to fall into bed and sleep! Tomorrow was your day off and you intended to sleep in. Before leaving you went to the restroom. I look as tired as I feel. You pouted at your reflection. It did not help.

When you returned to your desk to get your bag, the room was filled with the smell of coffee. The meeting must still be going for a while, when they drink coffee at this hour. Although there was Mike in there and he could drink coffee whenever.

The elevator was already on your floor and the door opened immediately. You pressed the button for the ground floor. Finally, work was over.

“Wait!”

A shout echoed in the empty hallway. You pressed the button to keep the doors open and a moment later he entered. The barista from down stairs. He was still wearing his uniform.

“Thanks!”

He flashed you a smile and the doors closed. You stood in one corner of the elevator and he stood in the other. The only sound in the small room was the noise of the machine descending. You were alone with him for the first time, maybe you should say something? The number over the door counted down 15,14,13. He had his hair up in a half ponytail that exposed the blond layer in the back of his head. Even though he looked more tired than you had ever seen him, he was still beautiful. You had a hard time trying not to stare.

The lights flickered and with a crunch the elevator jerked to a hold. You grabbed the railing, but the sudden movement of the elevator sent you to the floor anyways.

The normal white light had been replaced by the dim red wash of the small emergency light.

“Are you okay?”

The barista was still on his feet and offered you his hand. In the dim light it was hard to make out his face.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

You took his hand and he helped you up. The elevator was not moving anymore. The faint surring of the fan and your breathing were the only sounds in the room. Your eyes started to adjust to the new situation and you saw the red bell button next to the door.

“Looks like the elevator is stuck. Let’s try calling someone.”

You stepped closer to the panel with the buttons and pressed the button with the bell on it. An almost inaudible electric buzz came from behind the button.

“Hello?”

A tinny voice came from the loudspeaker. It reminded you of old radio recordings, highly compressed and cut off at high and low frequencies.

“Hello. The elevator stopped and we are inside.”

You did not know where the microphone was so you just talked loud to the room.

“How many people?”

“Two.”

You glanced at your plus one who looked over your shoulder. He stood close to you and you felt his presence.

“Okay. First of all don’t panic. We will get you out but it will take 30 minutes for someone to arrive. I can’t open the doors alone. Okay?”

You looked over your shoulder. The barista was looking at the speaker then his glance flickered to meet your eyes.

“We will be okay.”

He answered with confidence.

“Good. if you don’t hear the fan moving press the fan button. See you soon.”

With that the disembodied voice vanished. You were alone.

“Looks like we’re going to be here a while.”

He sat down leaning against the wall opposite the door. You did not know what to do now. This was just perfect. You wanted nothing more than to go home, but here you were stuck in this metal box. Standing alone felt not appropriate so you put your back against the wall next to the panel and slid down.

“I’m Wooyoung by the way.”

He smiled even though today it was not as bright as usual. Now that you looked at him, you noticed that he looked more tired. It was late for him too. You introduced yourself.

“I know your name. You come to the cafe everyday.”

“Right.”

Oh my god, he knows my name. If you were not so tired and irritated by this situation you would be happy about that. You finally knew your crush’s name and knew that he remembers yours.

“Do you work here?”

“Yes, I do.”

You had an ordinary office job, so you did not know what else you should say about it. He had started the conversation, and you really wanted to continue it.

“What were you doing up there?”

You tried to make the question not accusatory. Whether it worked or not was unclear, but Wooyoung smiled.

“Someone called and asked for a delivery. We don’t really do that, but since it’s the same building, I said yes.”

“And now you're stuck here.”

You knew that they did not deliver because you had tried to place an order when you had just started to work there. What bad luck Wooyoung had had. He had been kind enough to make an exception but now he was trapped on the elevator for an unknown time.

“It’s not so bad. Since I have good company”

He looked up at the ceiling. This almost shy behavior contrasted with his playful tone. You smiled to yourself.

“What do you do when you don’t work at the coffee shop?”

“Not much. Playing games and learning Italian.”

There was a small pause before ‘Italian’ and his shoulders tensed.

“Italian?”

Not a lot of people here learned the language, so naturally you wondered why he was learning it. Apparently this was the question he had dredded. Wooyoung loosely wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Is there a special reason?”

You paid attention to your tone when asking this question. It felt like you were on a minefield trying to avoid what would upset him.

“I want to go to Italy and learn more about coffee there.”

He looked at his hands. The bracelets on his wrist looked pretty on him. His shoulders slumped slightly.

“Wow, that’s so cool!!”

Wooyoung‘s head shot up, eyes wide open in the dim light.

“Really? You don’t think that’s dumb?”

You could almost see his eyes sparkle. Damn, he is so cute.

“I have seen you make a cappuccino for a friend. It was super cool.”

Your friend and you had smiled at the cute pattern in the milk foam. It was more something you expected from a bit more expensive coffee shops.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung beamed at you. Now that you thought about it, his reaction made sense. Most people do not see the value in doing such a menial task as making coffee. Who would want to work at a coffee shop, if they were not the menager? However there were people who enjoyed these things. They often ended up in jobs that paid more, but were less enjoyable.

“What do you do in your free time?”

You looked up, just now noticing that you had been lost in your thoughts. Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and made you feel like you had his undivided attention.

“I play video games and I paint.”

These days you arguably spend too much time playing games. After coming home from work you had not enough energy to do anything productive. You just watched something or played games.

“You paint? That’s so cool!! Can you show me something?”

Wooyoung was thrilled. He leaned forward, eyes sparkling, hoping to see something you had painted. You wanted to say no, but his puppy eyes made it hard. You caved and pulled out your phone.

“I’m not very good, so don’t expect anything groundbreaking.”

You showed him some of the recent pieces you had done. Most of them were landscapes with some still lifes thrown in. Humans were simply too hard to draw and you did not have the patience to learn it.

“Woah. I like that one!”

Your face felt hot from his compliment and your heart skipped a beat, when you noticed how close he was. It was totally innocent of course. He had just moved closer to look at your phone, but the effect was still the same. Your heart hammered in your chest. Wooyoung looked up and you could see the little beauty mark under his eye. It was very pretty. He noticed how close you were and gave you some space.

“Wooyoung-”

BANG-BANG!

“Are you okay in there?”

A voice followed the banging on the elevator doors. The old building manager and a technician opened the door from the outside. They helped you climb up to the next floor. The air in the hallway was much better and the lights almost blinded you. Sitting in the artificial twilight of the emergency light had made your eyes sensitive.

You thanked them and together you and Wooyoung took the stairs. It was unlikely that the other elevator would get stuck too, but you just wanted to move your legs.

“They were pretty fast.” Wooyoung’s voice echoed in the empty staircase. “It wasn’t even 30 mintues.”

You nodded. That had been your chance to ask him out. Now that you were in the outside world again, you could not bring yourself to ask him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your steps had synchronised as you walked down between floors 7 and 6.

“Sure.”

He stopped and looked at the floor. He bit his lip before saying: “Would you like to play some video games some time?”

You stared at him as heat was creeping up your face.

“I would love to.”

You smiled at him and he beamed right back at you.

#wkcnet #8makes1teamnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #kpop x reader #ateez x reader #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung fluff #noonasinnetwork

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 8

WARNING. HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Richie watched as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon, lighting the sky red, orange, yellow, begging the clock to tick just a bit quicker so he could be free from his job. Britney and Mason, douchebag 1 and douchebag 2, were chattering away like hormone-driven starlings right behind him rather than wiping down the counters like they probably should have been. It was 30 minutes until his shift was up and the flow of customers had more than ebbed by now. Normally, Richie wouldn't want his shift to ever end; normally meant he had Bev or Ben at his side to keep him from drowning himself in the backroom sink. Tonight, neither were here, so he was stuck with the two preppy assholes he was so desperately trying to tune out. On any other occasion the music leaking from the tinny speakers would have been enough to get him through the day, but tonight things were different and the radio was instead tuned to bark out the score of some sports game Richie couldn't care less about but had the one or two patrons (who were already served and seated) tilting one ears towards the sound in interest. If given the chance Richie would have been just fine talking with Britney and Mason; he didn't like them, not really, but his big mouth was begging to run after almost a straight 45 minutes of near-silence and professionalism, and the problem was that they didn't seem too fond of talking to him.

And so, Richie simply stood. And waited. And grew more and more bored out of his mind. His fingers began to drum against his chin which was rested on the palm of his left hand which was- in turn- propped up by his elbow on the slightly-sticky surface of the counter. He fought the urge to tap his foot and he fought the urge to hum or dance or bop his head all because he didn't think he could stand knowing the other two would judge him for it. Judgement wasn't often something that bothered him but the memories of last night's talk with Beverly kept trying to pop up into his brain. Yes, that was another reason he was desperate for something to do- Richie just couldn't stop thinking about that talk. The door to the cafe popped open and, golly, it was Richie's lucky day- in stepped one bite-sized brunette with a tentative scowl on his face full of freckles. Just like that, Richie perked up again, his smile splitting his face right in two and his stomach beginning a circus performance consisting of backflips and pirouettes.

"Well, wouldja lookit that!" Snapping his fingers, Richie leaned forwards and across the counter to greet Eddie with his bright eyes, "Spaghetti-man, welcome! Just in time, I was tempted to throw myself into one of the ovens!" Eddie's scowl vanished and instead came a confused little grin that looked pretty goofy and melted away the last of any problems the world had to face.

"Christ, Rich, that's a little dramatic," Eddie pulled up to the counter and began to say something else but, well, Richie was a little distracted taking in the sight of him alone. It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd interacted and, after his little talk with Bev, Richie couldn't really get Eddie out of his mind. Fitted in a fluffy coral-toned knitted sweater and a pair of black jeans, he was looking adorable. Imagining Eddie with some accessory like a bracelet or black nails was even cuter- suddenly, Richie felt very much like Bev said she did whenever she went digging through his wardrobe. Eddie quirked a brow and snapped Richie right out of his thoughts.

"Sorry? What was that? My head's still a lil' out of it tonight," He straightened his back, blinking his scattered thoughts away and cracking his knuckles as if he were being thrown into a cage match, "Can I get you something to drink? To eat? A seat at the bar, maybe? I could use someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going crazy around here," As he said 'crazy' Richie spun a finger around his temple, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I actually just came by to say hello, since... y'know. The party and... and all that shit. We had a deal, didn't we?" Eddie took up Richie's offer for a barstool, leaping up onto it and folding his hands on the counter. He glared down at the tabletop as he spoke, bashful. It warmed Richie's heart and he smiled even wider, clasping his hands and holding them up to the side of his face; his eyelashes battered wildly and then he was the Southern Belle.

"Well, my oh my, ain't you a doll? Stoppin' by just to get a glance at lil' ole' me?" With another roll of his eyes (that seemed to be an Eddie Kaspbrak trademark) Eddie finally looked up again and rested his cheek on one hand.

"I regret it now, Trashmouth. You're gonna make my ears bleed." Laughing, Richie spun on his heel, briefly catching Britney and Mason's gazes and then went straight for the cups to whip up a signature drink for his friend, even if it was against company policy both to create anything original and to give out anything without it being paid for. Who gives a shit, Richie thinks to himself, and gets right to it.

"How's a mocha sound, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"It's- It's fine, but how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Especially not with, like-" Eddie didn't need to finish his sentence, nor did Richie have to actually see him to know he was passing discreet glances at the two coworkers most likely listening in. Eddie was embarrassed about his silly little nickname. Challenge accepted- Richie had plenty of those. Flipping switches, tapping buttons, spinning around the kitchen with practiced ease, Richie pumped out a perfect dark chocolate mocha with steamed vanilla milk and caramel sauce drizzled artistically across the mountain of whipped cream on the top. It was a masterpiece- no surprise there.

"And here you are, Eduardo." the cup was set down and Eddie gave Richie an awkward, thankful smile. "Enjoy it- and here, dip one of these in it," Sliding open one side of the bakery treats display case Richie pulled out a slice of banana bread, "It's fantastic. Like, seriously, Eds. Ten out of fucking ten."

"When did your shift start today? I didn't know you worked," Eddie's cheeks flushed a soft red thanks to his own curiosity and he hid it with a sip from his drink. Richie shrugged,

"Nine. I was exhausted. Had to steal a coffee or two throughout the course of the day like the rebel I am." Richie reached up, popping the collar of today's brightly coloured shirt (pink, blue, yellow, purple, an amalgamation of triangles and circles and squares) and hunching his shoulders in, grimacing dramatically and sauntering back and forth like a biker dude who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and loved the road more than anything else, "I run 'gainst the law, dawg," Eddie cracked a toothy smile and let out a dancing chuckle, "I rob gas 'tations and pick pockets for a livin'," Richie reached a hand up and began to fuss with his hair in an attempt to transform it into an impromptu mullet. Bringing the attention towards his curls Eddie's face screwed up but his smile still lingered.

"You need a fuckin' haircut, dude, like- wow. It's like a whole mop, Richie," And then Eddie's eyes grew wide and he recoiled, "Did you make my drink with that mane exposed? What if- what if you got your stupid hair in it? You know you're committing a guideline 37 health code violation? It's literally against the law not to wear a hair net, you know. And did you wash your hands?" Richie flipped his collar back down as Eddie spoke, letting out a huff and stumbling over to the sink to jam his hands under the faucet. "I heard people's hands carry up to almost five million different kinds of bacteria. You'd better not be putting that into people's-" Richie's hands now soaking wet, he lifted them and flicked them violently in Eddie's direction. The shorter boy cut himself off and let out a startled cry as he was assaulted by these droplets of water, half-jumping-half-falling out of his chair to scramble out of range. "You asshole! This sweater is a gift from my mom you know, and it could get damaged or-" Someone in the shop barked out a hissing 'shhh!' and Eddie went silent, his face bright red.

"The patrons request silence, my lo- friend, jeezly-crow," Richie dried his hands on the towel just near the sink, acting like he hadn't almost called Eddie 'my love' (he only didn't say it because of his coworkers and Eddie's pride) and returned to standing across from him. As soon as he was near enough Eddie delivered a half-assed punch to his forearm that was more teasing than actually harmful.

"That was quite the show," Britney, for once in her life, regarded Richie with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, and then glanced over at Eddie who was now smiling sheepishly and clearly dreading meeting a new person. Britney stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you... Eduardo, was it?"

"Ah- Eddie, actually, my name is Eddie- Richie is just... just stupid sometimes, sorry," Rapidly, Eddie wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and took Britney's hesitantly within his own. Only Richie noticed the way his brows flicked a little closer together- Eddie was uncomfortable. That much was obvious.

"It's part of my charm, isn't-"

"Oh my God, I know, right? He's such a goofball!" With a horribly dopey grin, Britney pushed at Richie's shoulder and let out a high-pitched titter, "Imagine having to work with him every day!" Both boys let out an awkward chuckle, sharing a glance that said a multitude of different things; Who the hell is this chick? and Well she's just a little rude. and Can she maybe leave us alone? and many, many other things as well. "So, Eds- can I call you that?-" Britney didn't give him a chance to protest even though he wanted to, "How long have you and Richard been friends? How'd you meet him?" Britney leaned in just beside Richie, basically elbow to elbow as she crossed her arms and leaned into them to- oh- everything clicks together just like that, just as Britney uses her arms to push her chest higher. She was trying (and, well, failing, frankly) to flirt with Eddie. It seems that the asthmatic has yet to notice.

"Well, I... Not long, we just met a little over a week ago, I guess. It's actually kind of funny we-"

"Only a week?" Britney batted her lashes and Richie debated on telling her that her interrupting was not a good flirting technique, "But you two seem so close already! Gosh, I'd have guessed you two were high school friends at least!"

"Nope," Richie interjected before she could continue, "Just new friends. He's great, I'm great- that makes double great- Anyhow, Britney, we should let him enjoy his drink shouldn't-"

"Quite the mouth on him, huh?" Somehow, impossibly, Richie had failed to get her attention. Demanding all eyes on him was his specialty, but it was as if Britney had garnered some sort of tunnel vision, like a race horse with blinders perched on either side of it's head. Flirt racing. Place your bets. Richie felt a flame of jealousy and immediately squashed it down, feeling like some bitchy schoolgirl. "Chatter chatter chatter, all day long. How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, usually," Eddie was fiddling with the hem of one sleeve, his cheeks puffed out lightly in irritation. Who knew one man could have so much patience. "I... Well, I kind of like the chatter, actually. My own thoughts race so fast, it's cool to finally have someone who can keep up with them." Shrugging, Eddie turns to Richie and opens his mouth to speak, but, what a surprise, Britney beats him to it.

"I'm sure I could keep up with them, hon, if you gave me the chance," Britney let one eye fall down in a wink and Eddie gaped, frozen. His face drained of colour, a ghastly white that highlighted each and every one of his freckles- then it flooded red and he gripped the sides of the counter, looking at Richie again but this time as a silent plea, a save me oh my God- "What's your number?" She smiled, her rose red lips curling up in a way that could only be described as evil, "Or I can give you mine. I'd like to get to know you better." One part of Richie wanted to let this play out just because it was such a wonderful opportunity to watch Eddie flounder. The other part, the moral part, was screaming at him to intervene.

"Oh- I, I uh- I'm so-sorry I don't-" Eddie's tongue was tied. He swallowed hard and shook his head, his breath beginning to come in hitches, "I- I'm not interested I'm s-sorry if you got the- the wrong idea or-"

"Oh, come on, pretty please?" Britney leaned in closer and Eddie leaned away. "With a cherry on top? I promise it'll be fun-"

"Fuck off, Brit, he said no," Richie tried to keep his tone level, knowing that if he didn't his jealousy would show, but it seems he wasn't firm enough and that Britney didn't quite get the message. Eddie was still shaking his head, patting at his pockets as if searching for something, something to get him out of this more than awkward situation and turning up empty handed.

"We can maybe go to dinner tomorrow night or something like that, I'm a pretty fun girl when you get to-"

"Britney, that's enough!" Slamming one hand down on the countertop and raising his voice, all eyes turned to him- even those of the patrons, though this time no one hissed out a shush. After a beat of silence, Richie continued with a calmer tone, "You're clearly making him uncomfortable, I think you should just get to wiping down the counters or something so we can start closing up," Someone behind Richie scoffed; Mason. His other coworker. Rounding on him, Richie crossed his arms, trying to look somewhat intimidating in the face of this super-jock. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Well, I just think your little friend there's really makin' a mistake," Mason shifted his weight onto one foot, peering around Richie and staring the poor flustered Eds straight in the eye, "She really is a great chick, and... Well, you look like you could use a ride like her." Eddie's jaw dropped and his face went redder. He looked as if he were about to pass out, and Richie was stunned all the same.

"Jesus Christ, man, you can't just say that! What the hell's wrong with you?" Richie took a step forwards, glaring even harder but Mason wasn't deterred, wasn't afraid, was still dead set on either picking on Eddie or maybe actually attempting to give some sort of skewed advice.

"She'll do nearly anything you want if you ask nice," Britney was smiling though she looked a little stunned herself by this show of boldness, "And it seems she likes you, too. You're her type- short, thin, kinda... well, kinda girly to be honest," Eddie stared down at the tabletop, fighting to control his erratic breathing and seeming to have given up on patting his pockets for- oh shit, his inhaler. Was Eddie having an asthma attack?

"Mason, you fucking idiot, give it a rest. Eddie isn't interested. Leave him the fuck alone!" Richie was growing irritated- something about Mason felt off today. Usually the boy didn't outright pick on other people, he was always at least subtle about it.

"Oh, shit-" Mason let out a little chuckle, and stepped around Richie to approach the counter, "Unless- wait, unless you're not into her?" Richie was so close to slamming a fist across Mason's stupid face. After years of not understanding why everyone called his own face punchable, Richie finally got it. Some people just looked like good boxing practice.

"No fucking shit Sherlock of course he isn't into-"

"Unless you're some sort of fairy?"

Oh, the silence that followed this statement was suffocating. It was as if a thick blanket of quiet had throttled the room; Eddie's hitching breaths had stopped- in fact, so had his breathing altogether. His eyes had hollowed out, his face had lost all colour for good this time, and his shoulders had jumped up to his ears. Britney's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide, breath stolen away in a more figurative sense. Richie was entirely and utterly shocked. He had known Mason wasn't the ideal fella. He cheated on girlfriends and drank too much and stole things, but this- this was... more than Richie had expected. It took a lot for Richie to dislike someone and he disliked both him and sort of Britney for quite the big book of reasons; but downright homophobia was not in his book until today.

"What. The fuck." Richie's voice had gone low, dangerously low. Mason turned to face him instead, his eyes dancing with quite the colorful array of emotions yet somehow appearing haunted, dead, all at the same time. If Richie had to get all poetic and describe it he'd say those eyes were reminiscent of an ocean- chaotic in the crashing of the waves, and yet endlessly empty. He was smiling wide. Proud. Like a shark. Eddie was still silent.

"Maybe I've got things wrong, maybe that was wrong," Mason held his hands up defensively, and Richie made the mistake of letting him continue, "Maybe... Well maybe he's not a fairy." A pause, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, "Maybe you are, Tozier. Maybe you're the little fag-"

"Shut up, Mason. Just shut the hell up." Mason leaned in, arms crossed, smile smug,

"You know, as sick as you are, it doesn't even surprise me." From Richie's right there was a gasp, a choked sound reminiscent of some form of words.

"Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God-"

"I probably should have realized sooner, to be entirely honest. I mean, your hair, your clothes, your stupid nails and your stupider voices-"

"Richie- Richie I-" Richie's head was spinning with red hot rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, his teeth gritted tightly.

"You don't know a single thing about me you asshole,"

"I guess it's possible both you and your friend here mingle with that crowd, huh? Maybe the- Oh Jesus, maybe the reason you're so defensive is because the two of you are, like, boning or-" And, that was the final fucking straw. Richie didn't register his hands flying out to shove, hard, at Mason's chest until the boy was stumbling backwards, right over Britney taking them both to the ground. Richie was taller than Mason. Mason was heavier than Richie. With the right momentum, the right force and angle, he could- and did- send Mason almost flying.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? Jesus- and to think I might actually, one day, maybe be able to tolerate your obnoxious ass here at work?"

"Rich- I c-can't-"

"Wow, I was naïve! Do you have a single scrap of human decency in that tiny frocking brain of yours or are you only powered by fucking and alcohol?"

"R-Richie! I-"

"Well guess fucking what, you dog? I've got quite the gift for-"

"Richie!!" Just as Richie was about to spit right onto Mason's stupid face Eddie dragged him out of his furious haze with a choking wheeze. His head snapped right, gluing onto Eddie's trembling form; one hand was grasping at his throat, the other supporting him on the countertop, shaky, pale. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked positively awful with his mouth open wide and his chest heaving painfully up and down. "Rich- I- I-I-I c-ca-can't breathe I-"

"Shit, Eds, I'm so sorry," Richie didn't waste a second in hopping over the counter, tearing off his work apron and tossing it to the floor, discarding his anger with it, "Come on, let's go, let's get you some fresh air okay? We can hurry to your place and get your inhaler, yeah?" Despite the hate, the disgust, Richie couldn't care less about how he must have looked as he took Eddie's hand and began to drag him to the door, half-drunken mocha and quarter of banana bread left for the other two to clean up. On their way out Richie was almost certain he heard one last snide comment, some slur, but his only focus right now was Eddie and the way he was sucking in rasping breaths like a drowning man. Rich shoved the door open with one shoulder, holding it ajar and letting Eddie pass by, resting a hand on his back as he did so and beginning to steer him down the sidewalk in no particular direction. "Where's your house? What's your address? Should I call Bill or Stan or- We have to get you to your inhaler, don't we?" Cowering like a hurt puppy, Eddie shrunk into Richie's side, still gripping and clawing and gasping. "W-What do I do where do I go what-"

"No-" Eddie forced the words out through gritted teeth, shaking his head and holding up a single finger- just give me a minute. The two came to a halt underneath the golden glow of a streetlamp just recently lit. The sky was a dark purple now, growing into blue.

"Eddie, don't you need you inhaler?" He shook his head again, and Richie screwed his brows together, "But your asthma, we can't risk it we should just-"

"NO, Rich- Just-" Eddie gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, "Just give me a- a fucking minute!" Richie shrunk away, pulling his arms to his chest and taking a tentative step back. Eddie turned, hiding his face, and continued to sputter, refusing Richie's help and planting one hand over his eyes and forehead. A minute passed- Richie tried to suggest once more that the inhaler was the safest option. Eddie denied it with another string of breaths and curses. At last, an agonizing three minutes later, the rise and fall of Eddie's chest grew steadier.

"Are... Are you sure you're alright? I... I don't know how asthma works but I don't think ignoring it is healthy." Risking being yelled at again Richie stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on Eddie's frail shoulder. For one quick moment those big brown eyes stared up at him and then they flicked away, down to their shoes instead. The smaller boy's ears burned red with shame.

"I don't-" Eddie scoffed, "I don't fucking- I don't fucking have asthma okay? I'm fine. I just- need to- calm the hell down."

"You- what? You don't have asthma? Then what was all that stuff at the party-"

"It was nothing, okay? It was just my stupid brain being all messed up! It's not asthma, jackass, so just- let it go, please. Jesus," Eddie shook off Richie's hand and took a few steps back, one hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He started to pace. "I can't believe that guy, what an asshole! And that girl, I just-" He cried out incoherently, too frustrated to piece together another phrase, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I really am. I don't know what got into them- Mason especially, he isn't usually that bad and I... Well, that wasn't cool. Something was wrong about him tonight and- fuck," Richie brought his hands up to his face, underneath his glasses to scrub it vigorously, "I don't know, man, I'm so sorry." When Richie's hands fell again Eddie was looking at him, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his chest, concerned. A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"What...? Of course I am, I'm not the one who almost choked on-"

"Then what the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" Eddie surged forwards and, this time, pushed Richie with both hands, though the outcome was very different and Richie hardly budged.

"Woah woah Eds what-"

"He could have hit you! Are you stupid or something? That guy would have had your fucking neck snapped before you could even do anything about it and you were just going to let it happen because he said some nasty shit to me?" Again, Eddie thumped a fist into Richie's chest, and then another.

"Of course Eddie he can't just-"

"People have said that shit to me all my life, Richie, you don't have to go risking your stupid neck because of it!" This time Richie caught Eddie by the wrist before his shove could connect, and then caught the other hand right after, holding them tight, "Let me go, Richie I can't deal with you being like this right now it's like you're not even listening to me and-"

"Eddie, calm down you're gonna throw yourself into another fit!"

"I'm okay, asshole, I'm not gonna break down and die right here and now because I'm angry at you! I-I get angry all the time I'm not some child- I-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and then he spat out the words coated in acid, "You don't get to act all 'night in shining armor' just because some airheaded asshole wants to tell me what's good for me! I can take care of myself and I fucking hate it when people treat me like some stupid kid!" Eddie was gasping again, though this time he kept his mouth shut tight, trying to hide that he was struggling. He looked furious and terrified and hurt, a trio of emotion that Richie never wanted to see on his face again. Richie let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting go of Eddie's wrists. As soon as he did Eddie crossed his arms and took a step back, averting his gaze. The tips of his ears were burning brighter.

"I... Eddie, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to- to belittle you or talk down to you or anything like that. I just saw that you were getting badmouthed and I acted before I could really think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Trashmouth, you seem to be a little fucking impulsive." His voice strained, it was evident that Eddie was trying to reign in his temper, his 'asthma' already calming down once more. "Just... just please let me handle myself in the future. I can do it, I swear,"

"Yeah, I... I know you can. You're," Richie chuckled, and punched Eddie weakly, tentatively in the shoulder, "You're all sorts of spunk in one tiny package," Allowing himself to grin just for a split second Eddie slapped offense onto his face and wore a pout that would better fit a toddler.

"Are you calling me short? That's real low, Rich, that's just-"

"Low, is it? Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Oh- fuck you!" Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away to conceal his smile as Richie let out his bright cackling, ripping through the silence of the night in a way that was more pleasant than Eddie thought possible. "God, you're just such an asshole, I hope you know that," He jabbed out an accusatory finger and Richie shot up his hands in mock surrender as if that finger were a gun.

"Don't shoot!" He hollered, stumbling a step back, "I have a wife and kids to get back to!" Eddie laughed, dropping his hand, and just barely stopped himself from asking if Richie had a husband to get back to instead. That was a can of worms for another day.

"I'm exhausted now thanks to you. You're like a baby, always whining and shit. Come on, Stan works and Bill's probably asleep by now. Wanna come watch a movie or something? I think we have a copy of Die Hard lying around." Eddie began to walk back in the direction of the cafe- Richie had taken the complete wrong path in their hasty escape- waving one hand for him to follow. Richie was now beaming, knowing just what to say to (hopefully) piss off Eddie even more.

"Oh, awesome! My favourite Christmas movie!" Eddie spun on him. Mission accomplished.

"What the fuck did you just say? Christmas movie?!"

#reddie #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #stanley uris #the losers club #it #it movie #it chapter 1 #it chapter one #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it 2019

[antivanruffles]

Perfect

For @ellorgast who donated to the Rainbow Railroad during my fic drive! I’m sorry this is so late, but I hope you enjoy U/M Ballroom!Verse Honeymoon Shenanigans! 

Also up on AO3, and many thanks to @antivanonmytongue for help!

Edmond rubbed his temple where a pounding headache was starting to flair to life. Heaving a tired sigh, he pulled his out his cellphone and scrolled his contacts until he found the one he wanted. Selecting the name, he put the phone up to his ear as it rang. It was oddly tinny and hollow to his ears. 

As Edmond waited for them to pick up, he paced where he stood in front of the Champ de Mars, with the lush green lawns and flowering plants on full display while the Eiffel Tower rose behind them, completing the picturesque scene. The sun was starting to dip toward the skyline, setting the sky on fire with streaks of orange and red and pink, when a familiar voice finally picked up the phone.

“Edmond?” Kam sounded rightfully confused. “Is something wrong?” 

“I have lost my wife.” Edmond sighed again and wondered how this had all gone so wrong. 

***

The day that Edmond and Sylvia wed was as beautiful and perfect as a postcard. Sylvia spent months planning it down the smallest detail, and all of her diligence had paid off. 

In the end the whole affair was a lot grander than Edmond had expected, but that was what happened when one was a marrying a Lord’s daughter. The final guest list was shockingly large and full of many notable names. It was a little unnerving knowing that royals would be attending his wedding, but all in all it was good seeing as Edmond’s side was rather sparse. 

The estate gardens were in full bloom, awash with a riot of colors and the air full of the heady scent of roses. Perfect for the reception. The church they had chosen was done up in shades of shining silver and blushing pink. 

Edmond’s tuxedo had been perfectly tailored and Syliva had been like a dream come true in layers of taffeta and tulle. Edmond had never been happier in his life as they had danced late into the night. Everyone and everything else forgotten for the brief, perfect moment. 

Unfortunately the perfection of that day did not translate to their honeymoon. It all started with arrival at their lodgings in Paris. 

The place was a quiet little inn, romantic and private, and hidden away from the more touristy areas. Edmond knew it would be the perfect place to spend their honeymoon. The only problem was that there had been a mix-up with the reservation, they had gotten the dates wrong. After a back and forth with the manager, who apologized profusely for the inconvenience and offered to comp them a champagne breakfast for the duration of their stay, he offered them the only room available. 

With a resigned sigh, Edmond turned to Sylvia. Room keys in hand.

“How much of that did you understand?” he asked. Sylvia’s French was passable, and she was improving leaps and bounds every day, but she wasn’t quite fluent yet. 

“Enough. I did hear the word champagne though!” She smiled sweetly, as bright and happy as ever, and that helped to ease some of the tension coiling inside Edmond. 

He knew their room would be nice enough, but it wouldn’t be the honeymoon suite he had arranged for with rose petals and candles and a bottle of wine. Unfortunately there was little he could do about it at the moment. Not if they actually wanted a room for the night. 

They made their way to the room with their luggage in tow. The inn was everything Edmond thought it would be, and that was something good at least. Sylvia appeared enamored with it, marveling the paintings on the walls as they went, gushing over the brightly colored geraniums visible in the window boxes. 

There was a particularly lovely red geranium outside the window across from their door, and just beyond that was a small, well tended garden with a rainbow of roses. Edmond decided to take that as a good sign as he opened the door to their room and stepped inside. 

At a glance everything appeared in perfect order, meticulously clean, with a view of an ivy covered wall -- not the view of the Eiffel Tower he had been hoping for, but pretty nonetheless. The furniture was antique and extremely well cared for, the bedding looked plush with stacks of gold tasseled throw pillows and burgundy accents. 

Although that was where the problem with the room lie: the bed. Or rather the beds. They had been given a double. Edmond sat down their bags and started muttering to himself. Sylvia entered behind him and shut the door with a faint click. Turning around to fully take in the room, she started giggling. 

“It’s sweet, like they used to do in old television shows.” She looked up at Edmond, trying to smother down her laughter. It wasn’t working. 

“Yes, perfect for a honeymoon, hm?” 

“We can always share,” Sylvia said, looping her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to look at him. “I don’t take up much space, and besides it’ll be cozy. Nothing wrong with cozy.” 

She had him there, and so Edmond once again did his best to shove aside his disappointment with the mix-up. He wrapped his arms around her, and drew her closer. 

“You are right, of course” he said. “It is only that I had things planned a certain way. Now they are not going as planned.” 

“It’s all right, it can be like adventure we figure out as we go.” She grinned widely, eyes sparkling as one cheek dimpled. 

“And you are right again.” He dipped his head, intending to kiss his new bride when there came a knock at the door. Edmond untangled himself from Sylvia and answered it. A young woman from the front desk held up an ice bucket with a chilling bottle of champagne, and two flutes. 

“Compliments of the manager,” she said and handed the items off. 

“Thank you.” Edmond nodded kindly -- it wasn’t her fault she had interrupted them after all -- and kicked the door shut. He turned back to Sylvia. “Well, at least now you have your champagne.” 

***

After enjoying their champagne they settled into their room before deciding to have a meal at a quaint cafe near the inn. Their meal was delicious, their service attentive, and of course Edmond’s dining companion was without compare. It appeared things were finally looking up despite the earlier headaches, and Edmond intended to put it all behind him and fully enjoy his honeymoon. 

Unfortunately their bad luck soon reasserted itself. The strap on Sylvia’s shoe broke on their way back, and she twisted her ankle. They iced it, and though the swelling wasn’t too bad, it was quite tender. Because of that they spent their first night in Paris in their separate beds as Sylvia propped up her ankle and refused to even put a sheet over it. 

By morning Edmond was on his guard against more ill fortune. It was of little consequence. Sylvia’s ankle meant their itinerary must be put on hold. 

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” She was pouting, and that would never do. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“It is hardly your fault the strap broke.”

“But now I’m stuck here for the day instead of sightseeing.” 

“Well, we can spend the day drinking champagne in the garden. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? If we keep ice on your ankle, I’m sure it will be better tomorrow.”

That pacified Sylvia for the meantime, and once again she was all smiles. A marked improvement over the pouting. With a quick call to the front desk to arrange their day, they made their way to sit in the small gazebo in the gardens.

Truly, it wasn’t a terrible way to spend their day. Even if it wasn’t what had been planned. Although as they sat in the sunshine filtering through the ivy canopy Edmond decided he would make new plans. Something extra special to make up for the disastrous start to their honeymoon. 

***

“What do you mean you lost your wife?” Kam sounded incredulous. 

“He lost Sylvia?!” Mina cried before there was an odd muffled sound, almost like Kam was covering the phone.

Edmond listened to the sound of muted rustling of something brushing against the mouthpiece, and hissed words he couldn’t quite make out. Now worried, Edmond wondered if he should try to call someone to check on Kam. Before he could act Mina’s voice sounded clearly in his ear. 

“Edmond, what’s wrong?” Her voice was soft with concern, and as earnest as always. So Edmond relayed the mishaps that had befallen them since arriving in Paris, plus his current predicament. 

“Her ankle was finally better, so I sent her to the shops for a bit while I arranged for a surprise picnic in Champ de Mars. It was going to be so romantic with the sun setting as they turned on the lights on the Eiffel Tower. But now I am here, the sun is nearly set, our food is spoiling, and she will not answer her phone!”

“She probably got waylaid shopping, it is Sylvia after all. Or she forgot to charge her phone. I wouldn’t worry too much yet.” 

“That does me no good, Mina. The surprise is ruined and I am worried regardless.” 

“Gimme a second. Here’s Kam back.” The phone went quiet again, but it no longer sounded like Kam was being accosted. 

“What’s going on?” Edmond asked.

“Hell if I know, she just bolted from the room.” Kam snorted. “She’s right though, you shouldn’t worry. There are plenty of perfectly plausible reasons why Sylvia might be running late.” 

“I know that. It’s only that--” It was only that Sylvia had spent all of her time and attention on the wedding, and it had been beyond perfect. In every way. Edmond had imagined the honeymoon being just as wonderful. Only Edmond wasn’t sure how to explain that to Kam without sounding like a complete sap. 

“Ah ha!” Mina’s triumph cry saved him from having to try at all. 

“What was that?”

“Putting you on speaker,” Kam said. 

“What is it?” Edmond asked.

“Well, it was a combination of things. She did get sidetracked shopping, then she dropped off her things at the hotel, and then she got a little turned around trying to find the park.” 

“How do you know all of that?!” Edmond stopped his pacing and pulled the phone the away from his ear to glare at it. 

“It’s Sylvia, she never has her ringer on. She didn’t hear you calling or texting.” 

“Then how did you get hold of her?” Kam sounded just as incredulous as Edmond felt. 

“I commented on her newest Instagram post asking her to DM me ASAP. Come on, it’s totally obvious. I’m surprised you two didn’t think of it.” Mina sounded so nonchalant, as if she had just told them the time of day. 

“Mina, you know I’m old and Edmond is technology impaired. Neither of us have any clue what you just said.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Sylvia will be there shortly, I promise.” 

“Right,” Kam drug out the word. 

“Don’t give me that look, Kam. It’s fine. They’ll be fine. I think at this point it’s a proven fact all of you Ryan men, be they blood or adopted, are all cursed to have bad honeymoons.” 

“That’s not tru--”

“It is!” Mina cut him off. “Jaden and Ramona almost got divorced as soon as they eloped. Neven nearly broke an ankle, which isn’t just bad luck for him but absolutely the work of a curse! And don’t even get me started on ours.”

“Our honeymoon was mother nature’s fault, not mine!”

“Yes it was, because you’re a Ryan! Now poor Edmond is suffering the same fate because you decided to adopt him.” Mina’s voice got closer to the phone. “Don’t worry, Edmond, it’ll work out in the end.”

“Perhaps this was a bad idea….” Edmond trailed off, wondering if Mina was right. Maybe everything was destined to go wrong no matter how hard he tried?

“Edmond?” Kam’s voice sounded closer, more clear, and Edmond guessed he had been taken off speaker. “Are you all right?” 

“I think so.” Edmond sank down on the low wall lining the entry to the park, shoulders sagging. 

For a brief moment he entertained the idea of fleeing Paris before he further incurred the curse’s wrath. He imagined grabbing Sylvia’s hand the moment she turned up, dragging her back to their room and packing their things before it was even full dark. 

“There’s not a curse, you know. Mina is just off her rocker.” 

“I HEARD THAT!” Mina cried in the background. 

“She does make a good point, however,” Edmond said. 

“She does not. Even if she did, what difference does it make? So the honeymoons are shit. Jaden and Romona are still happily married, bickering and making up as the wind changes. Neven has full use of all of his limbs. And Mina and I were not blown away by a hurricane in Miami. Now it’s all happy marriages and good times.” 

“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT, BABE!?” 

“Do you wish you had married Anton instead?” Kam yelled back.  

“OH MY GOD! EW!” 

Despite himself Edmond cracked a smile at their antics. Kam was right, everyone was happy now. Things were good. Life was good. That was what was important. 

“Look--” Kam started but Edmond cut him off when he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. 

“She’s here. We’ll talk later, yes?” 

“Yeah, mate. Go enjoy time with your wife.” 

“You too,” Edmond said laughingly as he hung up. He managed to get his phone into his pocket just before the whirling dervish that was his wife slammed into his side. It was a good thing there was no one around to comment on such an unladylike demonstration. 

“I’m so sorry! I completely lost track of time so I didn’t even think to check my mobile until I got the notification from Mina and she said you were worried.” 

“It’s all right.” Edmond wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and rested his cheek against the top of her head. 

“It’s not all right! I didn’t mean to worry you and I’m sorry I keep ruining things--”

“You haven’t ruined anything.” He didn’t want to tell her that he believed Mina when she said they were cursed, because it sounded crazy in his own head. And yet…

“What was your surprise anyway?” Sylvia pulled back in order to look him in the eyes. Her eyes were shining with curiosity, bright and blue. 

“A picnic,” he said as he started to turn her around. The lights on the Eiffel Tower were just starting to burst into life, the sky turning to deep navy while the horizon beyond still glowed a brilliant pink. “And that.” 

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” They stood together watching the lights, Sylvia resting her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “This is perfect, Edmond.” 

“Are you sure? There was supposed to be a picnic under the trees with all your favorites and chilled champagne.” He pointed to the blanket near them, and a wicker basket sat atop it. “I fear now everything is less than perfect. It seems nothing has gone according to plan.”

“So?” she asked with a shrug as she turned to face him. 

“So?” Edmond frowned at her. “I wanted this to be everything you deserve. I tried to make it absolutely perfect, and now everything has gone wrong in some way.” 

“It is perfect, Edmond.” She glanced back at the Eiffel Tower. “We’re in Paris and I’m with you and we’re married. If that isn’t perfection I don’t know what is.” 

Edmond knew she truly believed it was perfect, and how he loved her for that. “I think the only thing here that is perfect is you.”

“That’s not true!” Sylvia giggled, her cheeks growing dark. “I forgot the time and got lost on my way here. I’m hardly perfect.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “To me you are.” 

Sylvia didn’t hesitate before lifting up onto her toes to kiss him. They stayed together a moment, her arms around his neck, and his circling her waist. Eventually Edmond withdrew and offered her his hand with a slight bow.

“Will you dance with me?” 

“There’s no music,” she laughed. 

“So?” He shrugged. “We are young and in love and in Paris. What else are we supposed to do but dance?” 

With a glowing smile Sylvia slipped her hand into his, and together they fell into a slow waltz on the sidewalk in front of the Champ de Mars, bathed in the light from the streetlamps. They danced until dawn, completely lost to the world, before finally retreating to their inn and the waiting champagne breakfast. 

It was utterly perfect. 

#fic drive fic #ellorgast #mamoru chiba #usagi tsukino #ballroom au #sailor moon #sm fanfic #usagi x mamoru

[sweet-little-bird-fanfic]

YOUNG K - Pure Desire

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link. Idk why but posts with links don't show up on the tumblr's search feature anymore. So, I'll leave the link to my master list there, where you can find the other chapters easily. I hope this is still functional for you guys, sorry for the trouble. I hope you can still enjoy my work despite the technical issues.

Summary: A young writer that’s struggling with her work until she crosses paths with an intense and fated new type of inspiration; An inspiration called: YOUNG K!

Genre: Fanfic; Romance; Smut (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

Warnings: Dry humping; Swearing? (sometimes they say fuck and shit? idk sorry xD)

CHAPTER 4- Snack

Violet

When I woke up I felt terribly tired, as if I didn't sleep. Which I did, but probably just one hour or so. The thoughts, the feelings, the sensations on my skin, the temperature of my body, the sweat running down my body, my trembling sensitive legs, my burning ears, my numb juicy lips didn't let me sleep. And everything because of what happened in the kitchen. My heart and body couldn't calm down from what had happened, but also because as I laid in bed I could clearly hear Young K getting in the shower in the next room and my mind couldn't help but wonder to wild places. The sound of the water running against his body surely didn't relax me, it only contributed to tightening up the wet mess between my legs.

Finding the strength to get out of bed and trying to break away from my pervert needy thoughts, I dressed the larger hoodie I owned and a simple pair of leggings.

I was glad it was so early in the morning, this way I probably wouldn't meet anyone in the house. As I walked downstairs to go to the kitchen, a nervous feeling in my stomach invaded me when I heard voices coming from there, but for my luck, there was no Young K in sight.

The boys were eating breakfast and big bro was organising some papers, I guessed they were going to work even though it was Saturday.

- Good morning. - Dowoon said when he saw me and made the other members greet me with a kind smile.

- Hey boys, did you sleep well? - I said in a hoarse voice.

When Kim Jii (big bro) heard my voice, he lifted his eyes from the papers to look at me and cracked laughing really hard as he saw my hideous face decorated with heavy dark circles.

- Oh, my... What happened to you? Were you writing all night? You look uglier than usual. - he said provoking me.

- I wish that was the case... I didn't even write whatsoever. - I confessed letting a big sight escape my mouth.

- Then why do you look so tired? Were you watching porn? - big bro said teasing me.

I gave him a dangerous look and wished I had enough strength to punch him in the face without hurting myself. Since I didn't, I grabbed an apple and a water bottle to bring out with me.

- Hey, I'm joking. You don't look so good. Do you need some medicine? - Kim Jii (big bro) asked in a serious tone.

- Are you also sick? - Jae asked worried and curious at the same time.

I looked around to check once again that Young K wasn't there and concluded he was the one Jae was referring to. I couldn't help but ask:

-Is Young K sick? - I pronounced my words carefully almost whispering - I'm not though, I'm just tired.

- Yes. He's got a cold and he's sleeping in his bed. - Sungjin said - I didn't notice when he showered but his hair was wet when we woke up. I guess he went to bed with his hair wet and ended up like that.

- He's been working a lot lately, maybe he needs some rest. - Wonpil added.

- I'm going out, should I buy some medicine on my way back? - I asked.

- Yeah, do that. And buy some lunch too. Little bro is going to meet with his friends, but buy enough for you and Young K. - Kim Jii (big bro) ordered.

I abruptly grabbed my things and walked out of the kitchen leaving my discontent and complain in the air:

- What if I don't want to have lunch with him? Seriously, I'm not your assistant. I have a life of my own. And he's obviously not a baby for fuck's sake.... - I left the house shutting the door behind me and getting inside my modest car.

***

I walked around town and enjoyed some coffee at a nice cat cafe, those type of places usually inspired and relaxed me. But not today, my mind was a mess I couldn't stop thinking about Young K, about our kisses, about the way he tamed me and the feeling of his rough hands on my skin and about what could've happened. And to be honest I was pissed, but what was infuriating me wasn't what happened, it was exactly what didn't happen!

What the hell was wrong with me and what was I even thinking? I wasn't someone to have crazy fantasies about idols but... that wasn't a fantasy! That was very real, too real. How could I ever face him again?

As I remembered what happened my body immediately responded to the memories and I thanked God I didn't have a dick. Getting wet in public might be uncomfortable but hiding a boner sounds hard, literally. Trying to behave and distract myself, I got up and walked to the pharmacy before heading home.

Once I got home, I forced myself to grow some balls and went to check up on Young K. I knocked at his door but I didn't get any reply, so I quietly opened the door and verified he wasn't in his bed. I went back downstairs and I noticed the living room's terrace window was open. I was blessed with a view of Young K wrapped in a blanket playing with my cat in the garden, but keeping a safe distance from the tinny adorable black haired being. How was it possible for someone to look so cute now and less than 24 hours ago look deliciously dangerous and hot? I couldn't help but laugh which made him aware of my presence and look at me. When our eyes met I could feel my cheeks burning up and I hurriedly looked away.

- Hey. - he said in a nasal voice.

- Hey! - I managed to say even though it sounded weird - I forgot to buy lunch. Are you okay with some instant noodles?

- Yeah...

- Do you want to eat something else since you're sick?

- Yeah... I mean, no it's fine. I'll eat noodles! - he said tripping on his blanket.

We went to the kitchen and the physical tension developed an anxious atmosphere around us. The silence was killing me, but I didn't know how to approach him or how to do small talk. We sat some bowls on the kitchen table and our hands accidentally touched when Young K gave me some chopsticks, which ended up on the floor when I felt the stiff tips of his finger rubbing my delicate hands and let them escape my grip. He looked a bit surprised but his face was invaded by a slight smirk as he took another set of chopsticks and I rushed to the fridge trying to hide my blushing cheeks from him. I stared at the inside of the fridge for more than two minutes, the refreshing temperature involved me and helped me to calm down, but somehow my body was still burning.

- What are you looking for, Violet? - Young K broke the silence making me shiver.

- I ... - as I looked at the fridge and concluded I didn't need anything from there, I looked back at him - I don't know what I'm doing, I was looking for the noodles. - I laughed and took some noodles from the right cabinet this time.

My heart was beating so fast I was afraid he could actually hear it. When he pronounced my name, I felt my body melt with his voice and even though he was far away from me it was as if I could feel him against me as his eyes observed every single movement I made.

- What flavour do you fancy? - I asked him as I boiled some water.

- I... what? - Young K asked with a tired voice.

- What flavour... are you okay? - I asked trying to read his facial expression, but I ended up staring at his lips and saw him bitting them. "Is he provoking me?"

- Anything is fine. - he scratched his head - Do you have any cold medicine?

- Oh yes! I went to the pharmacy before coming home. - I grabbed the pharmacy's paper bag and gave it to him - Here.

I went to stir the noodles and heard Young K serve some water so he could take his medicine.

- What are you doing? - I took the pills off his hands - You weren't going to take these with an empty stomach, right?

He looked at me with a guilty expression and smiled at me innocently. "That smile..."

- For such a big boy... you don't seem to know how to take care of yourself.

- I'm big... and I know how to take care of me just fine. - he said taking the pills from my hand and getting closer to me.

I pushed him down and made him sit on the chair taking the pills away from him and placing them on the table.

- Wait. - I demanded, trying to look strict but with a trembling voice.

- Yes, ma'am. Since you asked so nicely. - he said sarcastically and with his feverish eyes penetrating my soul.

It didn't take much more time until the noodles were done, I sat in front of him and placed our meal on the table. Young K was enjoying his food slowly and warming himself with the hot soup from the noodles. I couldn't take my eyes off him and I think he noticed, since every single time I managed to sneakily run my eyes through his face he smirked without even locking eyes with me. But then again, I wasn't doing anything bad... he did much worst last night. "Or much better..."

His lips were swollen from the temperature of the food, making them look even more tempting than usual as they sparkled and gained a darker red shade at each bite.

We finished our meal in silence, but that was broken by the loud nervous sound of my stomach echoing between the kitchen walls.

- Do you want a second? - I asked trying to hide my embarrassment.

- Yes, please.

- You know if you want you can go pick a movie or something. I'll bring the food to the living room in a second. - I said trying to send Young K away so I could try to calm down. His presence was making me self-conscious and my body wasn't behaving according to my demands.

He started laughing and answered me with a mischievous grin:

- Noodles and chill? - he suggested biting his lower lip and embracing himself pretending to be innocent.

- You think because I'm not Korean, I don't know what that means?! Isn't that the Korean version of "Netflix and chill"? Get out of here! - I said throwing a kitchen cloth at him as he walked out to the living room.

I drunk an entire bottle of cold water from the fridge to try to make my temperature go down. Everything was burning: my skin, my temper and my loins' fluids were melting down to my panties. "Focus", I thought to myself as I brought the food to the living room and saw Young K playing with my cat's tummy.

- Did you pick a movie? - I asked trying to avoid eye contact.

- Oh, I got distracted by your pussycat. - He said waiting for me to blush when our eyes met and giving me the most intense look I ever had to face in my life.

- Here's your second... - I managed to say as I placed the bowls on the centre table.

Young K stood up and left my cat alone to sit next to me on the floor, he grabbed the blanket that was involving him and wrapped it around us making me sit closer to him. I faced the floor as he placed his forehead against mine and caressed my cheek.

- I need a second of last night kitchen snack. - he said tickling my lips with his teasing words.

- We're out of kitchen snacks. - I whispered as he played with my fingers and kissed my right hand - Young... hmmm - he interrupted me when he bit my fingers and sucked them.

- Do you have any living room snacks in store, Miss? - he asked as he grabbed my ass and made me sit on his lap making me feel his growing bulge against my core.

Young K started to caress my back making me shiver and press against his front as I grabbed his shirt trying to push him away to escape from his dominance. He softly kissed my neck and left a trail of kisses until he reached my lips, I could feel his hot breath against my skin creating a feeling of edgy anticipation for his touch in me. He stared at my lips and rubbed his softly against mine, our eyes locked and I could feel my walls clench and soak down. Desperate to run away from this dangerous situation, I tried to free myself from his embrace but as result, Young K tightened his grip around my waist and made me pressure my sex harder against his growth. I moaned as I felt his flinching hardness under me. My brain kept on saying "no, run away now" but my body starved for more of his intoxicating touch and kisses, and his sexy voice only contributed to break my resolve more and more.

- I love when you moan... - Young K said biting my lips.

- We can't do this. - I said as he softened my hair and held my jaw in his hand.

- You don't want to? - he asked as he licked my lips and I trembled against him - Shall I prove you want this? - Young K grabbed my hips making me feel his growing bulge.

I couldn't help but moan as I felt him cringing under me and buried my face into his shoulder as I tried not to give into his attempts. I could feel his pulse on his neck and the fact that his heart was racing fascinated me and before I knew it, I was hugging him and pressing my body against him making him groan and invade my back under my shirt. Young K threw the blanket to the floor, lifted me up and laid me on the sofa, placing himself on top of me and making me wrap my legs around his hips. He brushed my hair off my face and stared deep into my eyes, as I caressed his face I noticed he was really sweaty and pulled him closer so I could kiss his forehead.

- You're so innocent, aren't you? - he chuckled as I checked his temperature.

- Shhh... You're really hot!

- Thank you! - he joked pretending he didn't understand what I said and stole a small kiss from my lips.

- I meant you have a fev...

- You caused this, take responsibility. - he said with lustful eyes that made my juices soak through my clothes.

He was running his hands through my body making me shiver with his touch when his hand finally reached the end of my belly I reflexively stopped it from going further. Before he could complain about my attitude I kissed him deeply and got on top making him groan with my sudden moves against his length.

- What do you think you're doing? - Young K asked as he sat up and leaned himself on the sofa whilst firmly grabbing my ass - Can you ride me like this?

- Like... this? - I asked as I rubbed my soaking core against his hard bulge and saw him lean his head back revealing his delicious neck, which I leisurely licked and made him aggressively grab my hair.

- Don't dare to play "gentle" just because I'm sick. - he said as he bit my lips; I impulsively pulled away from his lips and added more pressure on his lap - Good girl.

I kept sliding against his hard dick with only our simple clothes separating us from touching directly. Young K tried to make me lean my face towards him so he could kiss me but I involved his head with my arms and pressed it against my breasts. If he kissed me now, I surely wouldn't just end up rubbing against his hardness. As I kept straddling him he started cupping my boobs making my nipples harden under my bra, making my walls clench so tight that it started to hurt from the lack of real touch and the need of his thick cock stretching them. I moaned in a desperate pleasure sigh and Young K looked at me with famished eyes placing his both hands on my jawline.

- Let me kiss you... - he begged whispering against my neck and making me lean closer.

- No... I can't... - I moaned.

- Why is that? - he asked squeezing my ass.

- When you kiss me... - I said feeling a thrilling sensation growing inside my loins - Because I'll need much more if we ... - I murmured in a deep moan as I kept rubbing against him.

He laughed and warped his arms around me, biting my neck roughly and slamming his rigid erection against me. His abrupt actions made me jump and swirl on his lap as his hardness pressed exactly against my clit making me moan deeply with the inflaming sensation growing inside me before I trembled and a small sample of orgasm crashed over me. Young K groaned as he stopped biting my neck and held my face in his hands once again.

- I could give you so much more. If only you let me, Violet.

Young K placed his lips against mine softly searching for my consent, devouring my mouth as soon as I parted my lips with his tongue and kissing me deeper than yesterday. He pushed me down on the sofa making me bend over and crouch on all fours as he pressed his erection against my butt, tracing my tummy with his hand and going lower teasing between my legs with his fingers. I looked back and saw a smug victorious smile appear on his face when he finally noticed the wetness that soaked through the thin fabric of my leggings.

- Fuck, Violet! - Young K groaned and took his shirt off throwing it in the air, pushing his dick against my ass back and forth, making me feel the hardness of his thick erection through our clothes as he firmly grabbed my hips with his manly hands making me move as he wished.

Both of us were closed to the edge, we couldn't take it anymore. The teasing, the small touches, the sensations we created as we rubbed our bodies together weren't enough. We needed more. Desperately. Our needs for each other required to be satisfied otherwise we would drive ourselves insane. And like this, driven by pure desire Young K turned me around and led my shaking hands to feel his built bust.

I wrapped my legs around him and grabbed his neck to make him kiss me and when his hands reached my shirt to lift it, we were both surprised by the sound of the entrance door opening.

- Hey guys! I'm home. - Kim Joon (baby bro) screamed from the door taking his shoes off.

Young K stood up as fast as he could and grabbed his shirt to put it on. I followed his moves and got up just to end up falling on my knees due to my weakened legs, I was so excited I couldn't even stand properly. He looked back at me trying to hold in his laugh but his facial expression was really tender as he squashed down and held my hand to help me get up. When Kim Joon (baby bro) finally reached the living room our hands were still together and my little brother looked at me with a confused face as he scanned me up and down. Young K grabbed the blanket on the floor and placed it in front of his lower half.

- She wanted to scare you and ended up failing on the floor. - Young K said as he let go of my hand and covered my surprisingly hurtful neck with my hair.

- Did you catch his fever, Noona? You're so red! - Kim Joon (baby bro) asked rushing to check my temperature with his hand on my forehead.

- I'm just embarrassed because I fell, silly. No need to worry. - I replied to him with a quiet tone, knowing that was probably the worst excuse in the whole history.

Kim Joon (baby bro) straightened my clothes and played with my hair, locking a curl behind my ear and then I saw him looking at Young K with heavy eyes that seemed enraged, but I was probably imagining things because in the next second he rushed to sit next to him on the sofa asking in an excited voice:

- Do you want to play some video games, hyung?

- Sure. Sounds good. - Young K said patting my cat that was now sitting on his lap covered with the blanket.

- Where have you been, kid? - I asked trying to figure it out either Kim Joon was suspicious of us or not.

- Just out with my friends, we went to a cyber cafe to play LOL. - he said pulling Young K's arm as he stood up - Let's go upstairs the games are in your room.

- Are you abandoning me? Is this how you treat your big sister?! - I asked playfully.

- Go work you lazy ass! - Kim Joon said as he runs upstairs alone and tried to avoid getting hit by the pillow I threw at him. - You missed! Are you coming, hyung?

- You go first and get things ready. I just need to use the toilet for a second.

We watched Kim Joon disappear on the stairs and Young K moved my cat from his lap revealing the huge bulge on his pants, I covered my mouth with my hands in shock. How could I have forgotten that he had a huge hard on?! He smirked at my reaction and winked at me before he climbed the stairs slowly. I headed to the bathroom on the ground floor to take a shower in despair. I desperately needed to clean up and get my shit together.

If only the running hot water hitting my skin could clean the sinful thoughts that were tangled in my mind... everything was sensitive and sweltering.

***

After the shower, I spent the day rewiring my work, since some divine inspiration was given to me by a certain someone. My words slid from the tips of my finger to the keyboard of my laptop with ease and no pressure. Not even my shoulders hurt nor my fingers cramped. Everything was going smoothly until I fell asleep on my desk and woke up with loud screams coming from downstairs. It took me a few seconds to recognise the voices and understand what was happing: Kim Joon and Kim Jii were fighting. It's not a usual thing to happen but when it does, it's like the Titans crashed down our walls.

I rushed downstairs and when I finally stepped into the living room I heard Kim Joon (baby bro) say grabbing his big brother's collar:

- I want him gone. I don't care!

I pulled the hoodie over my head and I straightened my hair, trying to hide the bite marks on my neck, hoping they weren't visible anymore and hurried to stand between the two brothers.

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link. Idk why but posts with links don't show up on the tumblr's search feature anymore. So, I'll leave the link to my master list there, where you can find the other chapters easily. I hope this is still functional for you guys, sorry for the trouble. I hope you can still enjoy my work despite the technical issues.

A/N: Tbh writing about dry humping was a real challenge, I kept wanting to make them go further but but but but but but... the best things take time to happen, right?

#day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 young k #day6 brian #myday #day6 jae #jae #day6 dowoon #dowoon #day6 wonpil #wonpil #day6 sungjin #sungjin #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #young k smut #young k #young k hot #hot #romance #makeout #hot kpop #young k sexy

[ghoulsandsunflowers]

Raindrop Prelude - Chapter 1

(Read it on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12988278/chapters/29696223)

Generally speaking, Hide didn’t like the rain.

He didn’t like how it made his clothes stick to his skin. He didn’t like how cold water would seep into his shoes and wet his socks. He didn’t like how it plastered his hair to his scalp, how it dripped from his from his nose to his mouth (gross) or how it trickled down the back of his neck like an icy finger trailing down his skin.

He was especially afraid of the threat it posed to his cycle ride home. Slippery streets are dangerous! Also didn’t help that Hide could barely see two feet in front of him.

He could almost feel the icy rainwater soaking into his backpack and damaging his textbooks, not to mention his laptop carrying a twenty page assignment he could not afford to lose.

Hide needed someplace to shelter. Quick.

As he rode cautiously down the road, he scanned the streets for any possible place to stay and shelter for a bit - maybe a cafe, a library? Hell, he’d go for a museum if he had to. Then again, Hide never did have the patience for museums. Just hanging around for hours and looking at shit… Hide could see himself slipping over a puddle he’d walked in and smashing face first into an exhibit. Maybe not a museum, then.

Hide had been previously unaware that you could even get a highstreet this long with, somehow, no coffee shops on it. Funny how there seems to be a Starbucks at every turn whenever you don’t need one, then the minute you wish for one? Boom. Every Starbucks seems to simultaneously piss off to the very corners of the earth.

Miserable, tired and soaked to the skin, Hide’s eyes landed on a small looking place, wedged inbetween a barbers and a tired looking butchers.

A large display window took up most of the front. Hanging baskets swung gently either side. Wooden benches set in front were lined with flower pots, each cupping a small assortment of flowers. The door to the shop was closed (understandably, in this weather). It looked as if it had once been painted a bright red, but has faded to more of a pastel colour over the years.

With almost a sob of relief, Hide spotted a bike rack to the right of the door. It was empty, besides a forgotten bike helmet lying and upside down. Hide hoped it’s owner wasn’t trying to ride helmet-less in this weather.

In what was probably more of a rush than necessary, Hide slid onto the pavement where he proceeded to hastily tie up his bike and hang his helmet on the handlebars.

Hide pushed the shop door open with his shoulder, hearing the delicate ring of a bell as he did. He immediately spun round and shut the door behind him to keep the rain out.

The first thing he noticed was how much quieter it was in here. The violent pounding of sleet had been reduced to the far away sound of raindrops hammering the tinny roof. He also became conscious of his own erratic breathing, which he calmed before pushing himself away from the door.

Scanning his surroundings, Hide concluded he was in some kind of plant shop. A small one, certainly, possibly family owned? The floorboards under his feet were dusted with soil, as were the shelves surrounding the walls and the middle of the room. It seemed to be some kind of organised chaos, which Hide could appreciate. Flower pots were scattered all about. He saw some larger plants, small indoor trees, were placed on benches and the floor alike. He noticed that there were no lights on inside, only the dim light coming through the massive display window at the front and another on the wall on the left. Hide found the place rather cosy.

How long until this storm let up? It wasn’t like there was anywhere to sit here, or anything to do particularly. Having said that, this place was pretty charming. It wouldn’t hurt to wander around. Besides, maybe Hide could get something to liven up his apartment with! His place really was decorated with the bare minimum (hey, what student can afford lavish decor), but it’s blatant emptiness was not doing any favours in making him look less lonely. Hide didn’t exactly want to be the person who replaced meaningful relationships with plants, but there’s no denying that a venus flytrap on his window sill would look pretty fuckin’ sweet.

It occurred to Hide in that moment that he knew fuck all about plants. What could even survive inside? It’d be just like Hide to buy a cactus and have it die on him within, like, a day.

Eh, no harm in asking about these things. He was clearly going to be stuck here for a while, anyway.

Running his hands through his damp hair so it wasn’t lying sopping wet on his scalp, Hide sauntered towards the back of the shop.

He spotted a counter, behind which a figure was hunched up and apparently reading a book. The counter top was overrun with clutter - Hide spotted a pair of pliers, four flower pots (two of which had been knocked over), several neglected flower stems and a coffee mug that read The Great Catsby. Underneath was a cartoon drawing of what looked like a cat wearing a pink suit and holding a class of champagne.

Hide felt a little creepy just standing like a lemon and staring at this guy’s desk, so he cleared his throat.

The guy behind the counter let out a heroic squeak and shot his head up, hiding his face behind the paperback he was clutching. Hide scanned the cover. It read: The Picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde.

“Sorry,” the guy breathed. “You scared me there.”

Now that he had put down his book, Hide could make out the shopkeeper’s face. He looked around Hide’s age, with a messy bowl cut of black hair and a button nose. He was a lot paler than Hide, with rounder cheeks and large dark eyes. He wore a large knitted sweater under a filthy apron, and Hide could see a crooked name tag hastily pegged onto the apron pocket that said ‘Ken Kaneki’.

“Uhh…”

“Can I help you?” They started at the same time.

“Oh sorry! You first,” Kaneki offered, carefully pulling out a bookmark and closing his novel.

“Do you have… uhh…”

“A towel?” Kaneki supplied quietly, gesturing vaguely to Hide’s sopping hair.

Hide had been about to ask if Kaneki had any plants, but after hearing Kaneki’s suggestion, it occurred to him that he may have sounded incredibly stupid.

“Yeah,” he answered instead. “Thank you so much! Sorry, I swear I’m not usually this miserable.” He gestured towards himself wildly. “This weather kinda puts a dampener on the mood, yanno?”

Kaneki nodded gently as he got up slowly from his chair.

“You seem like a sunny kind of person. I can understand.”

Hide watched as Kaneki strolled into what was probably the back room and emerged a second later holding a neatly folded towel.

As he took his seat again and held the towel out to Hide, which he accepted gratefully, Kaneki continued.

“I quite like the rain.”

He seemed thoughtful.

“I find it cosy. At least, when you’re inside. Besides, it’s always reminded me of that scene in ‘The Great Gatsby,’ the one where Gatsby meets Daisy for the first time in five years.” He moved his gaze from the ceiling to Hide’s face. “Oh! Sorry if I’m ranting. Uh, have you read The Great Gatsby?”

Hide actually had. He wasn’t usually big on reading, but he remembered studying the book in literature as a teenager.

“Yeah, actually. I wouldn’t say it’s the first thing that comes to mind when it rains, though.”

“Oh?” Kaneki asked. “What does rain remind you of then?”

Unrelenting cold? Eternal misery? Unsafe roads?

“Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude,” Hide decided.

Kaneki’s eyebrows raised slightly and his mouth formed a little “O” before responding.

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to listen to that kind of music.”

Hide shrugged as he ruffled the towel through his hair aggressively. He fashioned a towel hat and straightened (he’d seen his mother do this as a kid and demanded to know how she did it), to which he swore he heard a snigger from Kaneki.

“Don’t be so quick to judge! I like all kinds of music!” He held one hand out in front of him and the other grasped his elbow as if studing a piece of art. He pulled an exaggerated pout and raised his eyebrows at Kaneki.

“I propose that Shostakovich’s best work is his fifth symphony, though I daresay that 'Fireflies’ by Owl City challenges it in intellectual value. Also 'Flamingo’ by Kero Kero Bonito is a fucking banger.”

Kaneki giggled and snorted elegantly behind his hand.

“Wanna know what rain really makes me think of though?” Hide grinned.

“Go on,” prompted Kaneki.

Hide leaned forward and whispered,

“What it feels like to walk with fucking sponges for shoes”

Kaneki threw his head back and laughed, and at that moment, Hide decided he wanted to hear it again.

#this is like part 1 of a think i might continue?? #this is the first thing ive ever written so please go easy on me!!!! also its 5:30 am #hidekane #hideyoshi nagachika #ken kaneki #kanehide #fic #i guess flower shop au??

[boymeetsweevil]

Hi! I have a bts request! so the "prompt" is y/n were love at first sight for him, but y/n's life motto is "love is blind" because y/n is actually blind. this is just for fun, but I'd really like to read your take on it!! you can pick any of the boys. :)

Hey Anon! I hope this is okay, its not exactly like your prompt but I enjoyed writing it :)

“How’s it going?” Jin brings up his notepad and pencil to take your lunch order.

“It’s good. I’m in the mood for a sandwich, though. What’s the sandwich special  today?”

“It’s a turkey club,” he says and watches as your lip curls a little, “but I can take out the extra slice if you want.”

“Yes, please. Oh, can you put extra mustard on it?”

“You and your mustard. You’re number 12. Do you want me to bring it to the table or are you gonna come get it? Maybe Jojo can get it?” He flicks his eyes over briefly to the dog resting by your book bag.

“I’ll get it.” Jin nods, satisfied with your answer and begins to prep your order.

You sit back down at your usual table and pull out your work. With the due date for your art history research paper quickly approaching, you throw yourself into your reading. It’s not until you feel Jin’s hand gently pat you on the shoulder that you finally lift your finger off the page you were just scanning. He places the deli-style basket in front of you and chuckles at your surprised expression.

“You must be working hard. I called your name 4 times and you still didn’t come up to the counter.”

“Sorry,” you say, and lift your head to offer a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay. Just don’t make me come from behind the counter again, or I’m taking the sandwich back.” You nod seriously and move your work to the side so you can eat.

True to his word, Jin put extra mustard on the sandwich. You can feel it oozing out from the bread and smearing a little on your cheeks. Just as you’re about to reach for the napkins Jin always tucks next to the basket you feel someone jostle the table as they sit down opposite you. Your napkins flutter down somewhere underneath the table and you turn towards them with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Crap, sorry. Is someone sitting here? It looked empty and the rest of the tables are full.” You cock your head at the pleasant, albeit frantic, voice and marvel at the dark shadow before you. It shifts before the voice says, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

You quickly take note of which side he seems to be extending from before sticking your own hand out and telling him your name. When your hand grazes his, you feel a spark run up your arm and go straight to your gut. His hand shifts to complete the handshake and wraps around yours entirely, grip snug and skin soft and warm. When he pulls away, his fingers seem to drag against the sensitive skin of your palm. You fight a shiver.

“You, uh, have some stuff,” he says and points at his face to show you where the mustard stains your complexion. You smile bashfully and pat around the surface of the table when you don’t find your napkins under the basket.

Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles as he looks on in confusion. You’re searching the table for napkins but it’s clear you’re not really paying attention because if you were, you would see that the napkins are on the ground next to the paws of the sleeping dog under the table wearing an official-looking harness. Oh, he thinks. That makes more sense.

“Excuse me,” he says as you continue to lift up your books and slide your hand underneath them to find the disappeared napkins. You lift your head to face in his direction and he has to stop himself from instinctively pointing down at the ground. “Your napkins are on the ground. By your foot, about 30 centimeters to your right.

“Oh, thank you. They must have blown away,” you say and you carefully lean down and lightly skim your hand out the right distance until you feel thin paper. You proceed to wipe your mouth until you think you got all the mustard. “Better?” You turn your head so he can see both of your cheeks.

“Better.”

You finish your sandwich and check your side of the table for any trash before getting up to the trashcan nearest to you. When you come back, the table is silent for a few beats.

“Um, let me know if this is out of line, but can you, um, are you–”

“Blind? Yes.” You listen to the somewhat relieved sigh he releases. The splotch of his shadow sinks a little as he slouches in his chair.

“I think I knew, but I wasn’t completely sure. And then I saw the harness on your dog and I realized.”

“You’re very observant. I guess you must not be blind, then?”

“Yeah, but my older brother, Taehyung, is blind, so maybe I can tell a little better than most other people.”

“I see, “ you hum. You try not to dwell on the fact that Jeon Jungkook is making a wonderful first impression on you terribly quickly. “Well, I hate to seem asocial, but I have a research paper for my art history class due soon and I need to go do some heavy reading. But you’re free to continue working at my table as long as you like today.”

“Your table?” There’s the sound of a grin in his voice and you can’t help but mirror it back. Somehow his voice tinged with smile sounds better than almost all the other voices you’ve heard before.

“Yes, my table. This is my latest lunch spot when I don’t go home to cook.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You cook?”

“Surprised?”

“A little,” he says and there’s that smile again. If you could, you would fill your bathtub with the mellifluous sound and gladly sink into it.

“Well, see you later, Jungkook.” You chuckle at your own joke and grab Jojo’s leash before telling him you’re going home.

2 days later, you groggily walk into the lecture hall and sit in your usual spot at the front row of the class. In your zombie-like grasp is the damn research paper that’s been keeping you cooped up in your apartment for the last 36 hours. You know it’s decent because you did a lot of prep, but you were distracted while writing, which is unusual for you. The familiar tinkle of Jojo’s harness as he circles a spot on the carpet next to you is drowned out by the the professor beginning to lecture. You type on your keyboard, having no trouble keeping up with the slow drawl of the content.

About 10 minutes into class, you hear the door at the back of the auditorium entering and a few late students trickle in as quietly as possible. You’re startled sound of a chair being dragged out next to you.

“I haven’t seen you at the cafe. I was wondering if I scared you off,” says a quiet whisper from beside you. Even after only 3 days, you’d recognize that honeyed voice anywhere. You wonder how and why Jungkook has magically materialized in your Art History lecture as you continue to type.

“What, are you stalking me now?” He grins and shakes his head.

“No. That was my subtle way of saying that the table near the window you love so much is mine now.” You whip your head around drastically so he can see the dramatic expression on your face.

“If you think I’m not going to take back what’s rightfully mine, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Be my guest,” he says simply. You wonder when the last time was that you got along so well with a guy like this. A seeing one, no less. Where all the other guys who attempted to court you failed, Jungkook seemed to pass with flying colors. The silence the two of you slip into is surprisingly companionable, and the lecture doesn’t seem to drag on as long as it usually does.

“So,” you say once the professor dismisses the class, “what are you doing here in History 45?”

“I didn’t tell you? I’m in this class too.”

“Why didn’t you mention it when I was talking about the research paper at the cafe?”

“Guess I was distracted,” he says quietly. There’s a smile in his voice this time, but there’s something else there too. You feel an embarrassed grin grow on your own face. He’s too smooth, you think to yourself.

The next day you spend a little too much time getting ready. You worry that you’re sprayed on too much perfume, but you figure that you’re fine since Jojo isn’t sneezing as he walks with you into the lecture hall once more. When you approach your spot, you hear quiet humming. Jungkook is silent as you sit down and get ready for class. The humming gets replaced by pencil tapping and you wonder why he still hasn’t said anything. Things were going so well yesterday.

About halfway through the lecture Jungkook slides an index card underneath that hand you have resting on the table, waiting while the professor deals with computer trouble.

“What is this,” you hiss.

“Read it.”

You’re confused for a second until you run your fingers over the underside of the card and feel familiar bumps. You flip it over quickly and glide your index finger across the words. Jungkook watches you quietly, though unabashedly, completely ignoring his notes. His blood is rushing in his ears, but when you duck your head and smile, he feels like he did something right.

“I smell ‘NECI’?”

“What?”

“You wrote N-E-C-I,” you say quietly now that the professor has started up lecturing again. Jungkook sighs for a long while.

“It was supposed to say ‘you smell nice’.”

“I figured as much,” you smirk. Jungkook nods once and goes back to taking notes while berating himself for always mixing up E and I.

At the end of class, you say goodbye quietly and leave him while he’s still packing up. There’s a small piece of scrap paper on your spot at the table that he picks up thinking its trash until he sees a series of dots similar to the ones he painstakingly imprinted on his note to you. He ends up staying in the lecture hall for 20 minutes after class lets out trying to decipher what you’ve written. In the end he realizes you wrote, “U sound NECI” followed by a string of numbers. It takes him another 5 minutes to realize you’re letting him text you.

Later that evening, you sit in your apartment with your hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Your phone chimes before reading the notification out loud.

“Hey, its Jungkook. Thanks for giving me your number,” the tinny computer voice reads.

From then on, you text back and forth nearly every day. He sends you riddles because you mentioned you love them and you send him audio clips of Jojo barking the ABCs.

“What are you doing tonight,” Jungkook asks right when you pull your chair out so you can sit down next to him.

“Hello to you too.”

“Hi. What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I was hoping to get ahead on some readings and then maybe I was gonna watch some TV,” you say. One thing you like about Jungkook is that he gets you and doesn’t ask stupid questions like “You know what TV is?” The same couldn’t be said about some of your other classmates.

“You’re always ahead on work. Maybe you should come to the Bean at 9 tonight instead.”

“The Bean? What’s going on at the Bean? Are they having a sale on their shitty coffee? Or maybe Professor White is going to perform spoken word again for extra credit? Because I’m doing okay in this class and I don’t need the credit that badly.”

“No. My A Capella group is performing. And I may or may not have a solo.”

“Do you mean the solo you’ve been whining about for the past 2 weeks?”

“Yes, exactly. Don’t you want to know if I’m any good at singing?”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Your normal voice is pretty annoying already. I can’t imagine what your singing must sound like.”

“Don’t lie, you love my voice,” he snarks back. Little does he know, that’s true.

“I mean, I would come. But Jojo doesn’t really know where the Bean is and I haven’t been there in a while.”

“No problem, I’ll pick you up. Just text me your address and I’ll come get you before the show.”

“Isn’t that bad luck or something?”

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. Wait till we get married to start worrying about bad luck.” You chuckle awkwardly and try to push down thoughts of coming home to Jungkook every night.

When Jungkook rings your doorbell later, you open the door in what seems like record time. But that’s just because you got ready early and have been standing by the front door since then.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Are you ready? My friend has the car runnning downstairs.

Jungkook’s friend is named Yoongi. He’s a bit older than you both but seems nice enough. You feel a bit like a third wheel as Yoongi and Jungkook chatter in the front seat and you wish you had Jojo with you. Yoongi offers up his elbow after you get out the car and you take it even though you could probably get to the door from memory of the layout of the coffeeshop. He doesn’t make awkward small talk, though. For that, you are grateful. The coffee shop seems moderately packed judging by the slew of different voices, and from the volume of the MC introducing the first group, you figure Yoongi sat you both near the stage.

The first group is a girl’s group and they sound really nice. Yoongi claps a little louder than necessary and gives a few rowdy shouts when the set is over.

“Was your girlfriend in that group?”

“N-no. Just a friend from work,” he sputters too quickly. You raise an incredulous eyebrow and he responds with a muttered ‘she’s not my girlfriend, ok?’

A few acts later the MC announces the all-boys group from Bangtan University and you perk up in your chair and turn to hear the music better. The first few songs are very upbeat and whoever is rapping is surprisingly good. It’s been 3 songs and just when you’re about to wonder when Jungkook’s solo will be you hear him clear his throat near the microphone.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. I normally don’t do stuff like this but, uh, this next song goes out to someone here. She knows who she is. Thanks for coming.”

Your breath hitches and there are a few catcalls in the audience before the sound of an acoustic guitar washes over you. The song is like a distant memory, definitely something you’ve heard before while mindlessly listening to Top 40s radio. It never sounded this good, though. Although his voice is a bit high, Jungkook is definitely a crooner. During the pleading verses of the song, Jungkook’s voice is breathy and sweet, before transitioning smoothly into something deeper and richer in the lines of the chorus that demand love from a faceless somebody.

The sound of your own applause surprises you, but it doesn’t stand out too much under the sea of the rest of the audience’s applause. You slip out of the chair and excuse yourself. Luckily, you remember the way out and the people in the audience part fairly quickly when they see your distinctive cane. You lean on the wall outside the coffee shop and breathe deeply for what seems like the first time in a while. Crowds don’t really bother you much, but the idea that such a song, such a performance, could be just for you made you feel light-headed.

Dating isn’t a foreign concept to you, but you’ve always felt a little guarded with guys, both blind and seeing. Being vulnerable in more than one sense terrifies you. While the idea of doing so with Jungkook is still frightening, its also an exhilarating one.

“Are you okay?” You jump a little and Jungkook mutters a small apology before leaning on the wall next to you.

“I’m fine, just needed some fresh air.”

“I’m sorry if I forced you to come tonight. I know coming to venues like this aren’t everyone’s thing, and I don’t even know if you like this sort of music. I just–I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Jungkook, what are you talking about. The music was more than fine. You guys especially were so great.”

“Really?” You can hear the sound of his shy smile bleeding into his voice.

“Yes. The solo was really amazing. Your voice is amazing.” He’s silent for a few beats and you turn unconsciously to make sure he didn’t just leave.

“It was for you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s your response, then? To the whole thing, I mean.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think. You’re a really great guy, but I feel like I have to ask. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Of course it is,” he spits out, “Are you–do you not want this with me?”

“All I did was ask you a question. Don’t get angry with me.”

“I’m not angry. But why would you answer my question with another question? It seems like you’re just trying to let me down easy.”

“I’m not letting you down, goddamnit. I’m just trying to make sure that you know I’m not some fairy tale.

“And I’m not some dainty, kind-hearted princess with a tragic flaw, either. My blindness won’t go away because you like me. I want to make sure you’re in this for you, not because it makes you feel like a good person.

“I’ve met guys like that. Hot, cool guys who think that the last thing they need to be perfect is the ultimate show of their conscience and moral high ground. They think dating me is the solution. But when they realize I’m the same as every other person because I have a spine and I talk back and I get needy sometimes, they want to break up. Suddenly, I’m ‘too good for them’ and they leave just like that. I just want to make sure you know who I am.”

“Really? After months of being friends? Do I really seem like I could be that guy? ”

“People always seem nice when you have something they want and you haven’t told them no yet.”

You feel his hand reach brush against your hesitantly before bringing it up to lay against the side of his neck. With his hand guiding yours, he maps out the planes of his face. You’re about to berate him for being cliche, for thinking that you’d want to “see his face with your hands” just because you’re blind when you feel the smooth skin of his cheek quickly turn rough and raised.

No longer waiting for him to tell you where to go, you bring your finger up to trace the edges of the large scar that goes from the center of his cheek up over the bridge of his nose and across his forehead to get lost in his hairline.

“What?” You’re at a loss for words. It’s unclear to you what he wants you to know.

“I’m not one of those ‘hot guys’ and I’m not trying to beef up my ‘nice guy’ resume. I like you because you’re nice and funny and smart and pretty. And because you make me feel…desirable. No one has ever made me feel that way,” he sniffs. You bring your thumb up to the skin of his eye and wipe at a stray tear. “I really like you, and I don’t know if this ruins your idea of me, but I just wanted you to know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything,” He sniffs a little, but his voice sounds clearer and less clogged with emotion.

“For assuming the worst of you. For making you think I was trying to skirt around your confession and reject you.”

“Are you rejecting me?”

“No,” you whisper.

He takes a step to get rid of the distance between you and crushes you to him in a tight embrace. You drop your cane in your surprise and rush to wrap your arms around him. It feels exceptionally good to hold someone, and you realize you missed the feeling.

“I guess the show is over,” you say as you hear people start to pour out of the coffee shop and disperse into the street. “Do you want to come to my place? I make really good hot chocolate.”

“Do you put booze in yours?” He bends to hand you your cane and you wrap a hand around his bicep once he’s back in your space.

“Of course I do, that’s why it’s really good.”

“I’d like to go if you don’t mind the company. I might not leave once we get there, though,” he says. You bite your lip when you realize he’s being greasy on purpose.

“As long as you pay rent, I don’t care”. When you get to the car, you realize you’ve slid into the passenger’s seat. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“I just picked him up on the way over to get you since this is my car and he doesn’t have his own. But I think he’s going home with Sungmi.”

“Who’s Sungmi?”

“She was at the show. She performed in that girl group. I think she’s his work friend.”

“Sounds like that will change after tonight, though.”

“Let’s hope. He’s such a hypocrite. He wants to make fun of me for talking about you, but she’s all he ever thinks about.”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

“Of course I do,” he says quietly.

“This is my apartment,” you say as you open the front door, feeling somewhat shy now that he’s in your home. The apartment is set up just the way you like it with everything in its place and the right number of steps away so that you can get around easily enough. But that means it probably isn’t set up like a standard apartment. He brushes off your worries and follows you around the house.

You do end up making hot chocolate in your spacious kitchen, but Jungkook hovers so closely behind you that you almost spill the batch. So you make him sit by the island. He whines like a kicked puppy, but quickly drops the act when you sit a deep mug on the counter for him with a can of whipped cream.

It’s a particularly strong batch because he bumped your elbow when you were adding the whiskey, so you both end up lazily entangled in each other on your bed under the guise of watching TV. Instead of watching whatever was on your DVR, you swap secrets. With your hand threaded through his hair and his warm breaths on your neck you tell him the abridged version of why you’re able to afford such a nice apartment as a student. He tightens his grip on your waist and buries his face in your collar when you tell him about how your doctor ruined your routine eye surgery in both eyes and how the settlement money will continue to burn a hole in your pocket for the years to come.

In exchange, he tells you how he got his scar with his eyes closed, marveling at the feeling of your finger tracing the roughened skin. One night while he was in the car with Taehyung, his dad got in a collision with a drunk driver. His dad, miraculously got out with a bad concussion, but Taehyung got the short end of the stick and lost his eyes due to flying glass fragments. Jungkook got stuck somewhere in the middle with his large scar. You press tiny kisses against the skin and he shivers before telling you that he’s still sensitive to this day. You pull him on top of you and kiss him until you’re both breathless and you can no longer taste the hot chocolate you drank earlier.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re slightly disappointed to see that you slept with your pants on, though you’re missing a bra. The hot chocolate didn’t quite give you a hangover, but you’re a little dizzy as you reach out to look for Jungkook. The other half of the bed is empty, but still warm, which is a good sign. Your full bladder brings you quickly to the bathroom before you really have time to register that Jungkook is using your shower.

Even with the hot water running full blast, and the toilet now flushing, his voice is clear and high as he riffs along another unfamiliar song.

“Jungkook?” He gives a shout before dropping something, probably the shampoo bottle he was singing into, and pokes his head out from behind the glass sliding door.

“Good morning,” he says lowly as he takes in your bed head and rumpled clothes.

“What’s up?” The sound of the water ends abruptly and you hear his wet feet smack on the tile.

“Can you tell me where I can find a towel?” Your eyes widen as you realize he’s standing before you, naked, and you turn around quickly.

“I-I think they’re in the linen closet. I’ll go check,” you say shakily and try to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible. He grabs you by the wrist and spins you to him so that his front soaks through the back of your wrinkled blouse and pants.

“Don’t you have to shower too,” he says, practically purring in your ear. His nose nudges the shell of your ear and when he pulls away and drop of water slides down your neck and disappears under your collar.

“I guess I can, now that you’re done.”

“You’ll need someone to get your back, though, right?” You spin around in his grip so you can glide your hands down his back to tweak the perky globe of his ass.

“I really don’t, but you can come in and watch if you want,” you press a chaste kiss to the damp skin of his pectoral. He sighs contentedly and turns the water back on. His gaze is sweet and dark as he watches you shed your layers quickly.

“You can shampoo my hair while you’re at it.”

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #prompt #bts scenarios #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #bangtan reactions #bangtan imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook reaction #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts reactions #ask

[changmiii]

Maybe I’m Just a Kid in Love: Chapter 2

Summary: When a mysterious, gorgeous stranger named Park Jimin almost runs over Jungkook on a delivery motorcycle, Jungkook is convinced he has met his soulmate. But between his rising social media fame as a singer, and Jimin's budding relationship with a charming baker, Jungkook's path to finding true love is not going to be an easy one. 

Pairing: Jungkook/Jimin

Words: 2,269

AO3 link

Previous Chapter

Jungkook's head bumps against the metal pole on the subway as he stares at his phone, aimlessly scrolling through his twitter feed. His inbox is flooded with questions from fans; he hadn't acknowledged his upcoming album since its announcement and questions keep pouring in, wondering when it will come out, and if he plans to perform live after its release. He quickly snaps a selfie with his hood pulled up over his face and posts it so his followers know he's still alive, at least. As usual, he ignores all of the replies in favor of opening up a game on his phone.

   With the distraction of beating the level and the music blasting through his earbuds, he almost misses his stop. He stands up quickly and pushes his way out through the crowds of people flooding towards the escalator, and opens his messages with Hoseok as he makes his way up towards the street. Hoseok’s only directions are vague, describing a gopchang place on the second floor of a building, overlooking a street filled with food vendors. Jungkook is still relatively new to Seoul, but in his time there he’s probably seen at least five different places that fit Hoseok’s description. Sighing, he hits the call button.

   “Jungkook? Are you almost there?” Jungkook can hear the noise of cars on the street and people chattering. At least they aren’t at the restaurant yet, he thinks.

   “I can’t find the restaurant.”

   “Kookie, haven’t you heard of Google Maps—”

   “Hyung,” Jungkook whines, “can’t you just tell me where it is?”

   “You got off at Gangnam like I told you, right?”

   Oh right, Gangnam. Jungkook looks around for a sign. “Um….it says Nakseongdae?”

   “What the fuck, Jungkook, how did you end up in Nakseongdae.”

   “I did what you said, I took three stops on line 2—“

   “You took three stops the wrong way,” Hoseok says.

   On the other side Jungkook hears a muted voice saying, “He got lost again, didn’t he. That little shit I knew he shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

   “Yoongi hyung I can hear you,” Jungkook says grumpily.

   “Give me the phone—“ there’s a rustle and Yoongi’s voice grows louder. “Look, Jungkook, you just need to take six stops in the other direction, okay? Get off when it says Gangnam. You can read right?”

   “What do I do once I get there?” Jungkook ignores Yoongi’s insult as he makes his way to the other side.

   “Just walk towards a tall twisty building and turn left--“

   There’s another rustle as the phone is snatched away again. “I’ll text you the directions, kay,” Hoseok says. “We got a reservation because Jin’s friends with the owner so you need to hurry.”

   “Thanks hyung,” Jungkook grumbles. He hangs up and gets on the subway, embarrassed.

   Ten minutes later he is walking through the narrow, winding streets of Gangnam, following Hoseok and Yoongi’s vague directions, the smell of food from nearby vendors making his stomach growl. He passes a Cafe Bene, wondering if it’s different from the one he passed moments ago or if he’s been going in circles. Either way, there are no barbecue places in sight.

   He knows the way these streets are laid out, with restaurants offering the same thing grouped together: bulgogi with bulgogi, kalbi with kalbi, yangnyeom chicken with yangnyeom chicken. He could easily ask someone where the gopchang places are located, but that would involve willingly talking to strangers. Jungkook isn’t antisocial persay, but he kind of hates the idea of approaching someone he doesn’t know.

   He ends up on a much smaller side street. The roads are rough and cobbled, with barely enough room for a car to pass through, and he is thoroughly lost. Jungkook picks up his phone and dials Hoseok.

   “I turned right at the sushi place like you said, but now I’m passing like these apartment buildings—“

   Hoseok sighs loudly. “Next time you aren’t allowed to go anywhere by yourself. Okay, just read me the street sign…”

   As he is talking, Jungkook is stepping aside to let a car pass from behind him. Hoseok’s voice fades into the background as a delivery motorcycle suddenly shoots around the corner towards them at a reckless speed. The driver’s head is turned to look at something behind him and he clearly doesn’t see the car coming towards him. Realizing he’s witnessing an impending collision, Jungkook shouts, “look out!” The driver sees the car at the last minute and swerves, unfortunately straight towards Jungkook, who throws himself out of the way and into a pile of discarded pink trash bags and recycling. A huge stack of cardboard boxes come crashing down on him, completely obscuring his vision.

   He lays there in shock, unable to see anything as the motorcycle comes to a stop. He hears feet hitting the ground and boxes are being pulled off of him. Jungkook is greeted by a pair of black combat boots accompanied by equally black, tight jeans that are ripped at the knee. Their owner drops into a crouch and, unable to think about anything else, Jungkook takes in the furrowed browned concerned dark eyes above a black face mask, backwards Stussy baseball cap pulled over blond hair.

   “Jungkook? Jungkook-“ The tinny voice is coming from his phone which is now lying on the pavement. Without taking his eyes off of the stranger, Jungkook reaches over and hits the call end button. He knows his expression is frozen in the blank, open-mouthed, wide-eyed stare his friends always tease him for, but he can hardly do anything about it. The boy’s jeans are stretching over his thighs in his squat and does he work out because damn.

   “Oh my god, are you okay? Dude, answer me.”

   Jungkook comes back to his senses. “Yeah, yeah, I’m…uh…I’m fine.”  He wonders how long the boy had been trying to talk to him. It’s not like he could tell with that black mask anyways.

   As if on cue the boy pulls the mask below his chin, revealing a gorgeous pair of pink lips. Oh no. Jungkook grabs his phone and tries to stand up, sending pieces of stray cardboard flying. He’s barely gotten to his feet when his head starts to throb and he sways towards the ground, only to feel two hands grabbing his biceps firmly. “Shit shit shit, are you okay?” The boy says, looking even more distressed. “Did you hit your head?”

   Jungkook rubs the back of his head. He didn’t hit it too hard— it will probably bruise later but he doesn’t think it’s a concussion. “J-just a little, yeah, it’s fine. I guess I-I stood up too fast.” It’s definitely not the head injury causing him to act like this. Get a hold of yourself, he thinks. What happened to Jeon Jungkook, singer-songwriter sensation, who makes girls squeal just by posting a selca on Twitter?

   “Man, I’m really sorry, are you hurt anywhere else?”

   Jungkook just wants to see this guy smile; his face is stunning even contorted into a worried frown but he can just imagine the way his eyes would lift up—ok hold up, Jungkook needs to get out of here asap. “Nope, I’m fine.”

   “Good thing there were trash bags to cushion your fall,” the boy says, peeling off a napkin that was stuck to Jungkook’s shoulder.

   Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “Gross,” he says.

   The boy fucking giggles and his smile is even better than Jungkook imagined. This boy is bad news. “Um, anyways, I gotta go…”

   “Where are you headed?”

   “Um.” Jungkook looks at his phone, ignoring Yoongi’s panicked texts to read the address of the place.

   The boy laughs again, but it isn’t mocking or mean-spirited. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re heading in the wrong direction. It’s that way.” He points where Jungkook had just come from.

   He wills himself not to turn any redder. “Oh. Whoops.”

   “New to Seoul?”

   Jungkook nods.

   “Me too, I moved here a year ago. Hey, want a ride? I’m going that way anyways.”

   “No, you really don’t have to—“

   “Seriously,” he says. “Think of it was me paying you back for almost running you over. Anyways, I go there all the time because my friend knows the owner.”

   “Okay, uh, thanks,” Jungkook says hesitantly. The boy climbs onto the bike and motions for Jungkook to follow. He gets on cautiously behind him.

   “Whats your name?” The boy starts the engine.

   “Jeon Jungkook,” he says over the growling noise as they take off. “You?”

   The boy answers but Jungkook can’t hear him over the sound of the engine.

   They shoot through the streets, wheels bouncing over uneven roads. The boy isn’t exactly a reckless driver but he isn’t cautious either, and Jungkook finds himself gripping the boy’s jacket, heart pounding, as they turn sharply. If they crash and he hits his face on something his career is pretty much over, but Jungkook has already decided that it’s probably worth the risk.

   Yoongi hyung would never let him forget this. It’s been ages since he’s had anything close to a crush, after a rough breakup in high school, and it’s not like he’s known this guy for more than a few minutes but…

   “Why did you come to Seoul?” the boy asks, turning over his shoulder to look at him and narrowly missing a lamppost.

   “Finished high school early,” he says, not wanting to divulge the full details of his music career. “I wanted to go to college here, I guess.”

   “How old are you?”

   “Just turned eighteen.” He turns eighteen in three months, but a white lie can’t hurt.

   “Wow, really?” The boy turns again to shoot him a grin. “I thought you were at least my age— I’m twenty-one.”

   Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush boosting his confidence, but Jungkook returns the smile. “It’s okay, I’m still taller than you.” The older boy just scoffs and they ride in comfortable silence until they arrive in front of the restaurant. Jungkook slides off the back of the motorcycle, breathless from the ride, and looks up at Jimin.

   “Thanks for taking me.”

   “No problem,” the boy says. Ask for his number, Jungkook thinks. You can do this.

   “Yah, Jungkookie!” A body bumps into him from behind and he feels hands ruffling his hair. “Jungkookie!” Namjoon says, “you finally made it!”

   “C’mon,” Yoongi says. “We’re all waiting for you to order.”

   “Have a great meal,” the boy on the motorcycle says, pulling up his face mask to cover his smile, and speeding off with one last wave. Jungkook is just able to catch the label for Tofu House food delivery before he rounds the corner out of sight.

   That whole ride went by in such a blur that he finds himself wondering whether it actually happened.

   He follows Namjoon and Yoongi into the restaurant. Hoseok and Jin are at a booth, grill already smoking in front of them. He sits down, grinning sheepishly as they greet him loudly, teasing him for getting lost. Jungkook just ducks his head, mind still stuck on a certain blond-haired boy on a motorcycle.

***

   “See, I’m a finance major,” Jimin says, trying to keep his voice steady. “And it’s really hard to get time in the dance studio since I’m so busy and I really do my best not to be disruptive—“

   “I’m sorry, Park Jimin-ssi.” His landlord doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I’ve gotten too many complaints in these past few weeks.”

   “But,” Jimin runs a hand through his now-bleached hair. “But, I never play the music out loud, and I try not to do too many of the jumps—“

   “I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking bored. “but the people in the suite below you keep complaining about the stomping, and the people next to you say you and your roommate act inappropriately and constantly bring strangers into your apartment, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to continue living here if you don’t change your behavior.”

   Jimin gapes. He wasn’t oblivious to the looks his next-door neighbors gave him whenever they saw him and Taehyung together, and Tae said they had made more than a few disparaging comments to some of Taehyung’s few hookups that he occasionally brings home, but he didn’t think they would go so far as to complain to the landlord about it.

   “Thank you, that’s all,” he says, giving him a tight-lipped smile and turns to walk down the hall, closing Jimin’s door behind him. Jimin flops down onto the couch and dials Taehyung on speaker, not even bothering to hold his phone up to his ear.

   “Tae,” he says when his roommate picks up. “The landlord just yelled at me again for dancing.”

   “He’s such a jerk.” Jimin can tell Taehyung has food in his mouth.

   “He says he’ll kick us out! Can you believe it?”

   “Fuck him,” Taehyung says. “I mean like, don’t, but seriously, you don’t even play music.”

   “That’s what I told him!”

   “Yeah, don’t listen to him. If they complain again we’ll just say its the pipes or something, kay?”

   Pipes don’t make thumping noises on the floor. “Okay,” he says.

   “Okay, I gotta go bomb my bio-ethics test, see you!”

   Jimin hangs up with a sigh, knowing full well Taehyung plans to ace his test. Most of their friends think Taehyung is a little bit dumb because of the way he talks, but Jimin knows he cried once because he got an A- on an essay.

#yujin #jikook #jungkook/jimin #jikook fic #jikook fanfic #jikook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #bts #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfiction #seokjin #jungkook #jimin #hoseok #taehyung #namjoon #yoongi

[ramblinganthropologist]

The upside of being stood up

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. Have some sap.

Summary: When Kaaras Adaar’s blind date never shows up, he gets discouraged. Luckily, a mystery man comes along in order to brighten up his night. It really does pay to be a good Samaritan.

Pairing: Kaaras Adaar x Dorian Pavus, pre relationship.

Setting: Modern AU (Separate from That Modern Dragon Age AU)

Word count: 1467

---

“What?! He hasn't shown up yet?”

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

Kaaras fought back tears as he left the cafe, tossing his empty cup in the trash as he did. The clock on the wall said it was sometime after 9. He had been sitting there since 6:45, waiting on the fabled 7 o'clock blind date that never came. The hand that held his phone trembled as he stepped out into the chilly February air, but it wasn't from the cold.

“I knew I never should've agreed to this.”

“Bro... I'm really sorry. I thought this guy was going to be legit.” Akri's voice on the other end was a small comfort as he waited for the light to change at the corner. “You coming home now? I can put some popcorn on if you want.”

At least somebody cared tonight.

The wind tossed his hair into his eyes as he crossed the street. Any crowds that were still out gave him a fairly wide berth, thanks in part to his horns and general size. Maybe that had scared his date off. For all he knew, this Cullen person was afraid of qunari.

A sudden crash did draw his attention, though. Cocking an eyebrow, Kaaras picked up his pace to walk up the street. Someone was attempting to pick up a large amount of books from the shop his brother frequented, often coming home with the same amount. He was swearing, and it sounded like it was from the cold.

“Should have stayed in Tevinter... bloody cold.”

Usually, Kaaras would ignore strangers. They made him anxious, and that was putting things lightly. Still, there was something about seeing the man crouched down and attempting to pick up his large stack of books that was strangely endearing, and maybe only a little bit pitiful since his ears and nose were turning bright red.

So, he reached down and picked up one of the larger volumes, an Orlesian published work on necromancy if he had translated the cover properly. “Uh, I think you dropped this.”

“No, I just decided to lay them out on the ground for fun. Mage exercises and all, we get a bit stiff.” The man's gray eyes softened slightly as he took the book back. “Oh, thank you.”

Something in Kaaras' stomach flipped and he turned to the side to hide his rapidly reddening face. The rest of the books were soon picked up, and they wound up splitting the stack as they walked to the man's car to deposit them. He followed a few steps behind, focused on not tripping, while he listened in.

“Who would have thought my knight in shining armor would be a qunari in a cardigan. I'm just the luckiest man in Ferelden.”

He turned back, briefly smiling. “It's right over here.”

Soon, the books were loaded up in the trunk of the car. Kaaras hadn't realized just how heavy they had been until his arms began to ache slightly. To his credit, he didn't wince as he turned to head back home for the night.

However, his eyes did widen when a hand found its way to his shoulder. When he looked back, there was the strange man with his warm grey eyes. It was only then that the qunari noticed he had a mustache to go with that smile. Given he had to be under 30, that was just fucking weird.

“What,  going to spirit away into the night before I can thank you properly?”

What a time for his tongue to stop functioning. After a few seconds of trying and failing to say anything at all, Kaaras settled for shaking his head in a no. It must have been his mottled face that caused the man to laugh, but he still didn't let go.

“I suppose the cold froze your tongue. Can't blame you, it's worse than death outside.” He nodded his head back towards the cafe the qunari had just left from. “How about something to warm you up on me? I would hate to hear you had caught your death with your selfless act.”

He really couldn't tell what was sarcasm and what was true at this point, but at the moment the redhead didn't care. A handsome – if oddly facial haired – gentleman was offering to buy him a drink and to get out of the cold. It wasn't quite the blind date he had been expecting, but it was better than going home alone.

“Shouldn't I at least know your name first?” Kaaras found a way to work his tongue as they started to walk back across the street. “So I at least know who to tell my brother about when he asks who kept me out late.”

His mysterious date even opened the door for him when they reentered the cafe. “Oh, telling tales about me already? I do hope you include devastatingly handsome and forget the slight bout of cold-induced clumsiness.”

That could certainly be arranged, if persuaded properly. The quanri could already feel his pocket buzzing with his younger brother no doubt asking where he was. This one was going to be fun to explain when he got home, but he found it hard to care.

“My name is Dorian, by the way. I should ask your name, after all I need to know who to give the credit for my daring rescue to.”

Kaaras found himself smiling as they settled in for at least a half hour more. “That would be Kaaras.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kaaras. Now, I best make good on my offer or you may tell your brother I attempted to kidnap you.” Dorian headed towards the counter, pausing. “Is coffee good?”

The qunari didn't want him to leave, but he sure as hell enjoyed watching him walk away. As soon as the man's back was turned, out came the phone so he could send a quick text. If things went well, well... maybe this day wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

Akri: Yo bro wr r u?

Kaaras: You have swype, you can use it. Going to be home a little later. Mystery man offered to buy me coffee.

Akri: WHAT.

Akri: Wrap it b4 you tap it, bro.

That was his brother; always full of sage advice. Kaaras shook his head as he put away his phone. After all, there was someone to pay attention to who was buying him coffee and he was heading back towards their spot.

Maybe being a good samaritan did pay off after all.

---

“Holy shit, Jackel, you won't believe this!”

Akri rushed into the living room, phone still in his hand. His cousin was still in the same spot he had left her when he had gone to make concillatory popcorn for his brother, remote in hand and waiting for turn the episode of Law and Order back on. Her eyes reflected in the glow of the TV screen as she turned to face him, a rather perturbed look on his face.

“If it's something other than Kaaras is coming home with donuts, I don't wanna hear. This is a good episode.” She frowned, looking towards the door. “He said he was going to be back soon, right? What's taking him?”

With all the ease of someone half his size, Akri vaulted next to her on the couch. He then handed her his phone where the message bank was still visible. Her eyes turned to the size of dinner plates as she read through, and the two shared a look once she was done.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye as he turned towards the screen. “Our little Kaas is growing up.”

“No, I can't believe you forgot I can't read.”

Akri could have dropped his phone. Instead, he just shook his head and switched over to the vocal text app. A robotic voice read the message out for him, filling the air with a tinny sound that let them both know Kaaras wouldn't be home for at least a little bit longer. That time, it was worth it to see her expression change.

He was glad he had that app.

Once she had processed the message, Jackel snorted as she unpaused the episode. “Remind me to investigate this guy once he tells us who it is. Can't have just any weirdo waltzing up and buying him coffee.”

That was their job, after all. Little did Dorian know he was soon to get a very intense visit from some concerned relatives. But, that would be after the marathon. After all, they could hardly miss Detective Ataashi's last episodes.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #Dorian Pavus #Kaaras Adaar #Dragon Age Inquisition

[i-globalone]

The truly wireless earbuds market is surging as we enter 2020 as the category was catapulted into popularity thanks to the wildly successful Apple Airpods. This CES, TCL announced its entry into the ring. The TCL SOCL 500TWS name is a tongue twister, but TCL’s first entry into the segment is still worth considering. The earbuds themselves share design elements with both Samsung’s Galaxy Buds and Apple’s Airpods, butthanks to their unique translucent body, they are able to stand out among the competitors.TCL SOCL 500TWS specs and features:Translucent finish and gradient colors in all-plastic build5.8mm speaker drivers, 100dB sensitivity, and 9-22kHz frequency responseOval-shaped ear tip designBluetooth 5.0IPX4 sweat and splash resistant“Slimline” charging caseUSB-C Charging port6.5 hour battery life per charge, 26 hours total with charging case Single bud mono mode (right side only) 10M rangeTCL is asking $80 for the SOCLs, which is well below other premium options. Let’s find out what kind of earbuds TCL built and whether they are a true bargain or just full of compromises.Unboxing and designWe received the blue SOCLs in a TCL-branded box with multi-language text all over it. These earbuds will be coming to the United States and we imagine they’d arrive in region-specific packaging. There’s a plastic window in the back of the box that lets you peek at the charging case and earbuds’ translucent designs.Inside the box are the two earbuds, a charging case, a short USB-C charging cable (thank goodness it isn’t microUSB) and three sets of tips in different sizes. There’s also some documentation about warranty and a quick-start guide with instructions on how to use the SOCLs. The SOCLs took a major design cue from the translucent trend of consumer electronics in the 90s which certainly triggered a mild case of nostalgia for me.I do kind of wish they went further with the transparency. The side of the earbuds that faces outwards isn’t transparent and the inner side of the bud only shows a circular battery and a back cover of the circuit board. On the charging case, only the lid Is transparent and shows the LED charging indicators on the earbuds. Otherwise, the color is nice and has depth, but certainly a missed opportunity for more intense 90s nostalgia.The charging case is quite light thanks to the plastic build, but the durability of its lid is questionable. It isn’t like the AirPods’ spring-loaded lid that flips up and down, but it’s a clasp that you need to snap open and then push back. The clasp seems like it could wear over time, but at least the hinge seems sturdy enough not to fly across the room when you drop the case. The case gets charged via USB-C cable, which is great considering these are budget-segment earbuds. On the back of the case are four LEDs for showing the remaining charge on the charging case.The earbuds themselves are mostly built from plastic, though the exterior side of the earbuds are covered in a layer of flexible plastic. This lets you press a button (on either earbud) to control volume, playback, and answer calls. The earbuds’ design is strikingly similar to the Galaxy Buds’, the key difference is that the SOCLs are more oval shaped, down to the sound canals. It depends on the person, but sometimes oval-shaped tips can offer a more secure or sealed fit over rounded tips.Comfort and fitAlthough the ear tips are round, they take an oval shape when you install them. This makes it so you can turn the buds once in your ears to kind of “lock” them into position. Its really easy to put them in upside down – it took me about 45 minutes before I realized that I had done so the first time. You should make sure the “L” or “R” is facing the right direction before inserting them.The oval-shape of the tips does help to maintain the seal around your ears. It also does a pretty good job of keeping the buds securely in your ears. I used the medium size tips and found them quite comfortable. I wore them while I worked and didn’t start to feel discomfort until about the 2-hour mark. To be fair, my ear canals are sensitive to all earbuds. After using the medium-size tips, I realized during a workout that my right ear canal is slightly larger than my left because the seal kept breaking on my right ear. This was rather annoying, so just make sure you use the right size tip for each ear.On the positive side, the SOCLs were great for working out. My fitness test involves me wearing the earbuds through a session of yoga practice. If the headphones manage to stay in while I’m dripping in sweat, turning my head upside, downside, and every which way, then I deem them fit for my needs. I am happy to report the SOCLs didn’t budge at all during my session.Controls, phone calls, and featuresThere’s a button on each of earbuds with different functions. Though they can be a little clunky, the controls on the earbuds themselves offer several actions including play/pause/back/next/answer/hang-up/reject/volume (up/down)/voice assistant. These are all done with either a single press, double press, or press-and-hold of either button depending on whether you’re listening to music or in a call.The SOCLs support phone calls with either both or only the right earbud. The person at the other end could hear us loud and clear, even through background noise. Speaking of which, the SOCLs don’t feature any kind of background noise reduction. Our caller said although background noise was present, he could still hear us clearly. I didn’t like taking phone calls with both earbuds in. The fact that these earbuds seal your ears, it made my own voice too loud in my own head (think of it as talking with your fingers in your ear), it just makes it hard to know what volume you’re speaking, relative to your surrounding. Whenever I got a call, I religiously remove the left earbud before I begin speaking.That brings me to my next point – you can use the right earbud on its own. If you play music and put the left side back into the charging case, the right bud will automatically switch from stereo to mono audio. Since the audio is relayed from the right bud to the left, you can’t use the left bud on its own. This means if you want to listen with the left earbud alone, you’ll need to take both buds out and leave the other one connected with no receiving ear.This could be a disadvantage if you like to lay on your right side or if your left hand is dominant. A minor inconvenience, but one worth mentioning.Audio qualityThese SOCLs don’t feature any active noise cancellation. However, the seal around the ear is quite good for muffling out noise. They do a pretty good job of keeping you in your own bubble of concentration at a cafe, for instance. It also manages to block the sound of a fan or air conditioner nearby pretty well.They earbuds are well balanced in sound. These are definitely not bass-heavy like many mainstream headphones tend to be, but they resulting sound is clean and clear. At higher volumes above around 80%, mids and trebles begin to sound tinny – not that you’d use them that loud for very long, since these earbuds are plenty loud. Wireless earbuds these days won’t output the best sound. That said the SOCLs don’t sound terrible. For all intents and purposes, they get the job done and they won’t leak sound so others can’t hear what you’re listening to. If you’re expecting a bass-heavy boom, these earbuds won’t give you that, but they’ll sound as good as a $25 pair of wired earbuds from the department store rack.One downside to the earbuds (like any other silicone tip buds) is that the seal is required for the best sound, so if the buds partially come out, the quality will suffer. Just make sure you are using the correct size tip because the seal will constantly break if the tip is even slightly smaller than the should be, though this can apply to any earbuds with a silicone seal. Personally, I had to use the medium size on my left ear, and the large size on my right.Battery lifeThe SOCLs are rated for an impressive total of 26 hours of playback time and 55 hours of standby. Each charge of the buds is rated for 6.5 hours with their 55 mAh batteries, and a 15 minute charge on depleted buds revive the buds for another hour of playback.Since you’ll be storing the buds in the charging case anyway, they’ll always be topped up for the next time you use them. The charging case takes about two hours to fully recharge its 520 mAh battery and we’re very happy that it uses a current USB-C port.I’m happy to report that I was able to squeeze past the already impressive 6.5h battery rating at least a couple of times. Playing continuous music at around 60% volume, the buds lasted over 7 hours before powering down. Battery endurance is excellent considering premium earbuds last somewhere between 3 to 5 hours on a single charge. This alone can be largely influential when deciding between truly wireless earbuds. It’s likely that you may never wear these earbuds for such a long time in a single session, but if you find yourself on a very long flight or if you wear earbuds through a full shift in your line of work, these should be on your list.ConclusionThe TCL SOCL 500TWS are basic earbuds with advanced controls. They don’t offer an app interface, you can’t play a noise to track them down if you misplace them, they don’t do any in-call noise reduction or cancellation, and they don’t have any kind of wear-detection.TCL is asking for $80 for these buds and I find that a pretty sweet deal. They are more affordable than AirPods and Galaxy Buds, and they offer excellent battery life for a pair of wireless earbuds. They’ve got a funky nostalgic design that doesn’t scream “copy-cat”, they fit securely and are great for workouts. The controls offer a full range of actions with only one button on each earbud. If you’re looking for a more polished product with more software features, tweaks, and wireless charging, you’ll want to look towards more expensive offerings like the AirPods Pro or the Huawei FreeBuds 3.This category of wireless Bluetooth earbuds has already and will continue to see a flood of competitors over the next year with many copy-cats and clones coming from other Chinese vendors. The SOCLs definitely have an advantage in battery life, which alone may be worth the $80 for some folks.The SOCLs offer a great balance of design and sound for the price. They aren’t the best-sounding earbuds around, but they offer a an all-around no no-frills experience for those who are ready to go fully wireless.

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