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justlemmeadoreyou · 2 months

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Secret Little Rendezvous - 4

Summary: The aftermath of the breakup. You find someone new, and Harry's...jealous?

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, kissing?!

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

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Harry was hurting.

He felt a deep sadness in his chest when he broke it off with you, but it was normal…for the most part. It always happened when he let go of someone, because they were getting too attached. And he never wanted that.

But, this time, the pain didn’t go away after one week.

In fact, it skyrocketed when he saw you with Dylan, his hand on your waist, and his lips on your neck.

Apparently, you both had started dating, told the HR too, and it was the talk of the workplace.

It was your birthday this time, and the party was at the same bar Dylan had thrown a bash in, and honestly, he was pissed.

And that’s exactly what you wanted. To piss him off.

It was bad enough that he was dragged by Olivia to this, and he had to see you kiss his cheek every now and then. And the worst part was when Dylan wiped some cake on your cheeks playfully, and then licked it right off, which led to a kiss between you two which almost made him puke. It was all tongues and teeth, with obnoxious sounds that echoed through the whole room.

He threw his drinks on the table and got up, heading out for some fresh air.

He went outside, taking in a deep breath, with air that didn’t come out of Olivia’s mouth.

Yeah, she had been up his ass all night. Not today, not yesterday, since the whole 3 weeks he told her that he had stopped sleeping with you, stopped seeing you.

Of course she was over the moon with that news.

But Harry wasn’t.

After breaking it off with you, he felt weird. He didn’t have someone to rant about his work to, he lost that one person in his life he could talk to about anything. You would bitch about people at work, and he could tell you anything, any weird thing on his mind.

It was so simple with you. Mostly, he would come over at odd times, because he didn’t feel like staying at his own apartment. He would bring takeout, or you would give him something you had cooked and kept in the fridge for the next day.

While you would be up, microwaving it, a loose t-shirt that covered your bum barely, with panties hiding the rest of it and no bra, he would be sat on the dining table.

He would walk to you, his sock-clad feet echoing on the hardwood floor and cup your breasts from behind, pulling the neck of the shirt off your shoulder.

He would kiss your neck then, his soft lips and slight stubble leaving goosebumps in their wake, while you hummed and tried to pay attention to the job in hand.

There would still be about 5 minutes left on the timer, and he would bet that he could make you cum in less than that.

Of course, you would take the bait.

He would grab your bum, swiftly turning you around and lifting you up, making you sit on the kitchen island. Spreading your legs, his green eyes would find yours, full of mischief and lust. It would be perfect. He would ask you to tell him about your day, pulling your shirt off, and throwing it behind, not caring where it landed.

Next would be your underwear, slightly soaked because his stubble against your skin, anywhere, makes your pussy throb.

His lips would be back on your neck again, kissing and sucking, licking, and then doing it all over again. His finger would find your clit, pinching it, rubbing it, teasing you.

“And then I gave him the file, and he just…oh god!...he–” your words cut off by his tongue licking your nipples, the cold air of the room making them harden–perfect to suck and bite on.

The place between your thighs would be a mess. Soft slick trailing down continuously, his fingers spreading it around and making more of a mess.

The way he would play with your nipples, licking and sucking them…it would make you go wild. His fingers in and out of your tiny, weepy hole, other hands spreading your lips apart and rubbing your clit, the soft bundle of nerves oozing with more and wetness.

Of course you would give in. It would take…4 minutes? Tops. Enough for you to cum around his fingers or tongue, and for him to clean it up right after, the work talk long forgotten.

Dessert before dinner, he would say,.

Of course, he missed it. Missed you. Taking the food out of the oven, you would still be naked, after him begging you to not wear clothes. You would give in shortly, wearing nothing but oven mitts as you brought him the food, while he sat on the dining table, shamelessly ogling your naked form.

You would keep the food on the table, cheeks red from embarrassment as you would try to turn around and run away, but would he let it happen? No.

His hand would sneak around your waist, holding you by your stomach and pulling you to sit on his lap, legs spread so you could fit right in between. He would pull the mitts right off your soft, soft hands and then he would open his mouth, making you feed him the food too.

The night would end with you sucking him off right after, and then him bending you over right there, his pants pulled down just enough to pull his throbbing dick, pushing it in the heaven, that was your pussy.

Carrying you to your bed after you were done, he would bring you back to bed, eyes droopy, pussy swollen and sore. He would clean it between your legs, as much as he could, before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

He would leave sometimes after, staying a while to clean up the kitchen because you fed and fucked him.

You were so good to him, so good for him.

And he let that go so easily.

///

You had gotten a promotion at work.Now, you were now two ranks above Harry, and honestly, it was good.

You wouldn’t have to go for any meetings with other departments now, your assistant would do that. No meeting him in the kitchen, because you bought your own coffee machine.

“Make proper notes, send me meeting minutes within half an hour after the meeting finishes. Don’t sleep during, drink coffee if you want to. Don’t make me regret hiring you.”

You had instructed your assistant Leah properly, and she seemed to get used to the way you liked to work.

It seemed as if everything went right in your life after you ended it with Harry everything aligned perfectly.

Until one day.

The Senior Manager of his department had resigned, and till they found a new one, you had to take over both, with no extra pay.

Of course.

And Hary was the one who first came to you, to submit a sales report of the past month.

“You could leave it with my assistant next time”

“You-you’ve got an assistant?” he asked.

You were in no mood to talk more than 2 sentences with him.

“Yeah. You can go now”

You said to him whilst looking at your computer screen, not even a glance at his face. He got the hint, mumbling a quiet “alright” before walking out and closing the door shut. Maybe he even slammed it a little.

He never came to give you files after that.

///

Dylan had approached you 2 weeks after you and Harry broke it offf. He always used to send you flowers obnoxiously, and somehow, somehow, he knew that you liked carnations, and nothing stopped him from sending a bouquet every week or so. It was kinda sweet.

One morning, he came to keep the flowers on your desk, and you came in right at that moment, and he asked you out.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he had asked, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were softened, chest rising and falling steadily. He definitely had a crush on you.

“No”

His eyes lit up at that, and he asked if you were free to have a coffee, go see a movie with him, or wanted to have a few drinks. You agreed on coffee, since you had to work till late. It would keep you awake till late too.

Coffee was good. You two had a lot to talk about, even when you worked at the same place, in the same department.

You were happy to finally move on, and Dylan was just the person to help you do it. He was kind, sweet, funny and charming.

“And when I told him to go, he stood there like a complete deer in headlight, like!?”

He started giggling, imagining the exact face you described, and he looked so cute when he smiled.

You couldn't help but feel yourself fall for him. But, you couldn't help but think about Harry. It was hard not to, considering you had just ended things with him recently, and not having him around at all was new.

But being with Dylan felt different, and it was a good different.

He made you laugh and smile in a way that Harry mostly never did. You both talked, and that was a rare case with him, if any at all. He talked, and you had to listen. Even if you were just about sex, he treated you like trash. Never bothered or care for you at all.

Dylan was so much more attentive and caring towards you, sending you flowers like a proper lover, even when you both talked rarely, let alone see him.

As the coffee shop began to close for the night, Dylan offered to walk you home. You accepted, planning on working tomorrow, and grateful for his company.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?”

He had said with a smile, when you were strapping on your heels back, a strand of your hair falling and framing your face.

Your face was oily, all glow gone, and full of sweat. You did not feel beautiful.

As you walked, he took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, and you couldn't help but feel a spark between you two. It was a simple gesture, but it meant a lot to you.

When you arrived at your doorstep, he turned to face you.

“Will I see you again?” he asked expectantly, a warm glow spread across his face.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your cheeks. Dylan leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek. It felt different from the kisses you shared with Harry. It was softer and more meaningful.

You said goodbye to him, feeling giddy.

And when you entered your apartment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the flowers that Dylan had left on your desk that morning. They were the start of something new and special, and you couldn't wait to see where things would go with him.

And it started with a simple bouquet of carnations and some dedication.

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tell me if you like this! this part is short, but there's going to be one last one! and i know this isn't soo good! but read it, please, and tell me what you think! >.<

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a-casual-kpopfan · 28 days

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Love Is... - Choi Yena

Damn, who thought I would come back to writing?

My first fic of 2024, I may be a few months late, but I hope you enjoy!

-----

The sound of the jingle from the front door plays through the speaker, the warm air hits you as you pass through the doors. You take a sigh of relief as you were able to get out of the cold while it was snowing outside.

It’s February, winter is in full swing, snowfall has become the regular in this region. And worst of all, it’s become couples’ season. You weren’t known much as a bitter person, but with all the hearts and couple promotions just brings an ick to your own heart. You were not against people in relationships, you yourself are not searching for a partner to even be with, but just the promotion of love just brings an extra level of bitterness out of you.

Not feeling to cook tonight, your goal tonight was to enjoy a nice and cheap bowl of ramen.

After all, the only thing that can make you happy is food.

You browse around the different flavours and seasonings of the instant ramen selections but then you end up with you usual and most generic pack, a pack of spicy ramen, shortly after you walk over to the cold foods section to add as your sides. Today, you felt adventurous, no one is around to ruin your mood.

Your goal in the cold section is to find a set of your favourite soy marinaded eggs. And there before your eyes, only one pack of two eggs are left on the shelf. “They must be low on stock.” Speaking to yourself as your hands grab the pack before anyone else can take it, on the way to the counter you decided to grab a cool oolong tea as well.

Before paying, you noticed a short individual walk into the store, wearing shorts and an odd white sweater with pink accents. “A little odd to be wearing shorts in winter.” You spoke a little too loudly to be saying it to yourself, the person took their hood off and gave you a little glare, although your attention was not about her hearing you.

Long strands of pink hair flow out in the wind, she almost looks like someone written out of a manga, an anime character you used to watch on Saturday mornings. “A little rude to stare.” The woman scoffed then walked by you. A little shocked but not surprised with her attitude, it’s not anything new to you.

“YAH, WHERE’S THE MARINATED EGGS?”

The person in the white and pink sweater made her way back to the front of the store and you’re now staring eyes with a pink haired bull. “YOU!” Pointing her finger straight at you, stomping hard towards you. Her other hand balled up into a fist, you swear her eyes have been lit on fire from the inside of her skull.

You look over to the employee at the counter and they seem just as confused as you are.

“Those.” She points to the pack of the marinated eggs. “I’m taking those.” Great, just another thing to add to your already over the limit bitterness due to this season. “How about no?” You put your hand up in front of her finger pointing at the pack and push it away. “I will pay for your dinner if you just let me have those eggs.” You look her straight in the eye, she’s dead serious with that statement.

“Jinja?” “Mm.” “Jinja?” “Mm.” “Jinja?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT?!” If this was an anime, you would picture this pink haired girl to light flames out of her head, ready to kill just for a pack of factory boiled eggs, marinated in a soy sauce mixture, who knows what other additives that could’ve been added to this.

All this for eggs.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass.” You said with a straight face, didn’t hesitate knowing you just destroyed the spirit of this young woman. She starts growling slightly her hands are in fists, looking like she’s shaking because she’s trying to prevent herself from punching you, but instead she started tearing up and squatted down, hugging her legs. “But… I really wanted those eggs…” She was whimpering, not something you saw coming.

“Shit.” You look over at the clerk again, all they could do is shrug, giving you a look that says, ‘it’s your mess, not mine.’ You scratched your head in frustration and gave in. “Look, I will split this pack with you if you stop crying.” The girl’s eyes point up to you, the waterworks are really going with this one. Not convinced of your off, she continued moping on the floor. You were left with no choice.

“Ugh and I’ll pay for your dinner.”

“Jinja?” “Yes.” “Jinga?” “Yes.” “Jinga?”

What is this girl doing to you?

You take a deep breath before nodding again.

A pack of instant ramen, a cold green tea and a couple onigiris later, you and this pink haired woman take a seat a table together, considering the circumstances, you found it appropriate to at least sit with this person.

“Thank you for the meal!” The woman clapped her hands together as in a praying motion before digging in the ramen that you ended up paying for.

“Choi Yena.” Confused from what she said, you question her.” I’m sorry, what was that?” Yena picks up the disposable chopsticks, breaking them apart before repeating herself. “Choi Yena, I figured you should know my name for buying me dinner.” Surprised but you told her your name before you did the same with your chopsticks.

Most of the night was silent other than the slurp here and there, the door opening for the occasional night owl popping for a snack. You had just met this Choi Yena about a half hour ago, having a midnight dinner with her, and had a fight with her for boiled eggs.

Not that weird, right?

~~~~~

A couple nights later, you find yourself in the same spot. Going through the doors of the same convenience store, grabbing another pack of instant ramen. Once again, you’re in the cold foods section looking for the same set of marinated eggs that you enjoy so much, but to your displeasure, there’s none on the shelf.

“Damn, must be still out from last time.” Disappointed, you turned to see a familiar pink haired woman. “Well, hello stranger.” Yena there, smiling at you. She’s holding a shopping basket with her arm, and you notice she too had a pack of noodles, the same green tea drink and what seems to be the last pack of eggs.

“Choi Yena…”

“Looks like you’re having dinner again here?” Yena sticks her arm out with the basket, bringing it closer to you. “Let me pay you back, put it in here.” Yena points with her lips, gesturing to the food and drink that’s in your hands, you smiled and just followed along. “Since you’re paying me back, I might as well grab this too.” You grab a salmon onigiri off the shelf and quickly drop it in Yena’s basket, but to Yena’s amusement she rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

“Yah, is that it or is there more?” You chuckle and you look through the rest of the shelves, carefully looking at all the food. “Hmm, what else is good here?” Yena goes and slaps your shoulder and starts walking up to the front counter. “Don’t take your time!” You followed suit, walking just behind Yena.

After paying for the items, you and Yena start getting the ramen ready to be cooked. “What brought you back here?” You ask Yena while she’s opening her soup packets, you do notice with her lips how she pouts a little hard, almost like she has a duck’s bill. “Yena?” She was so focused on her noodles that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.

“Oh, yeah, sorry… What did you ask?” Yena looks at you with such an innocent look, you found it cute. “What brought you back here again?” Yena smiles and snickers a little while she pours her soup packet into the plastic bowl. “Coming here late at night helps me not think about my ex-boyfriend, we recently broke up and it was a little messy.” You were left speechless, not expecting an answer like that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we barely know each other.” Yena tries to cut the awkwardness with a laugh although it didn’t last long. “I normally come here to be alone, coming here late at night with no one around brings me a certain level of peace… Until someone squashed that idea.” You look at Yena with a deadpan while gives you a quirky smile. “Oops, sorry.”

Silence has come between you two as you’re focused on putting some toppings in your ramen before pouring in the hot water, the same with Yena.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to eat with a friend.” Yena quietly speaks up, but you didn’t reply only continued with a little smile.

“Sometimes, not being alone is nice.”

~~~~~

“What’s on the menu today, Yena?”

You and Yena have been meeting at the same convenience store for several days now, it’s started to become a normal routine. You get home late from work, its nearly midnight, then you tend to run into Yena at the store. “I haven’t had tteokbokki in awhile, why not that and…”

“This!” Yena pulls a pack of precooked pork belly, ready to eat out of the microwave. “Isn’t that going to be a heavy dinner?” You questioned the choice, going with a high carb meal with a side of fatty meats. Yena went from a big smile to now a death stare towards you, annoyed with your reply, Yena answers back. “Are you trying to say something about my weight?”

You regret questioning her.

Yena goes on to the microwavable foods section to find something to add to your dinner for the night. “Then how about this?” The pink puff pulls out a bag of fish cakes, perfect side for a bowl of tteokbokki. “Let me go get the drinks while you set up the meal?” You suggested with Yena nodded happily.

Yena pays for the food before making way to the self serve area to get everything cooked so you two can have dinner. You took your time strolling to the drinks area knowing that the food would take a little bit to cook fully even though it’s just precooked frozen foods.

“Hmm, what to have tonight?”

While browsing around, you had thought about getting your usual cold green tea, but you decided to be a little adventurous tonight. You pull a strawberry milk and a mango flavoured green tea; Yena can decide which one she wants when you bring it over to her. A little smile grew on your face when picking the drink out, excited to try it, you quickly walked to the counter to pay for the drink.

Once paid for, you hear the beeping of a microwave from the other side of the store, making you think that the food was already done. Quickly taking the bottles of the counter, you walked over swiftly to see Yena placing a tray down on a table. She was placing everything on the table so carefully, the food being placed in the centre of the table.

Yena meticulously places smaller disposable platters on either side of the table, with chopsticks next to them on top of napkins. You couldn’t help but smile and chuckle on the side, your slightly snickering startles Yena, not knowing that she’s being watched. “Yah! You could’ve given me a heart attack!” Yena clenches her jaw and pretends to go for a punch with her fist.

You continued smiling like an idiot, walking up to the table bringing the drinks to the pink haired menace. “Choose one.” Presenting both drinks, she looks at each bottle, back and forth, thoroughly thinking which one to drink. “I choose this one!” Yena points at the mango flavoured tea, you nodded and put the strawberry drink on one side, then opening the mango drink for Yena.

Both of you sat down on your respective sides of the table, Yena starts picking up the tteokbokki with her chopsticks. “So how was work today?” Throughout spending more time with Yena, you found out that Yena is a professional photographer and is renting a studio nearby, which is why she comes by this convenience so often.

“Aish, the models that my clients keep hiring are so thin, they look like they never eat.” Yena continues ranting about her day, you sat there watched her eat the tteokbokki with some aggression while you were eating slowly but getting your share of the food.

“What about you, how was your day?” Yena puts down her chopsticks, leaning her elbow on the table, holding her head up with her hand. She looks at you with such interest, wanting to know how your day went. Both eyes are on you and only you, her ears are open for listening to you and only you.

You couldn’t stop the muscles in your face from forming a smile, you were happy. You were happy that someone is there to ask you about your day, someone interested to find out how you are doing.

“Damn you, Choi Yena.”

~~~~~

“I can’t believe he would just walk out! These models are becoming so sensitive with constructive feedback!” Yena screamed over the phone, you’re currently driving your way back from work and Yena decided to give you a call as she has a late photoshoot. “What did you even tell him?” You were happy to hear Yena’s voice, you were beginning to think that you wouldn’t see her tonight because of the photoshoot.

“Ahhhh, I told him that he looks bored, that he needs to put some emotion in his posing!” Yena continued with her story as you’re driving back, you just drove and listened. You loved hearing the sounds of her voice, you were never too busy for Yena, and she was never too busy for you.

“Do you still have any more shoots to do tonight, Yena?” With the intentions of getting late night dinner again with the photographer, you change lanes to make way to the convenience store instead of home. “Yeah, I still have a few more shoots to do. I’m not sure what time I would even be done.” You can hear Yena sigh. Her frustration can be felt through the sound of her voice.

Yena continued ranting until her next model arrived. “Yah, I’ll call you later. My next victim is here.” The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up, though little does the photographer know that you’re going to be stopping by tonight to greet her with her favourite late-night dinner.

Shortly you make it to the store, quickly you gathered all the normal food both you and Yena would have. You make it to the clerk and wait for him to scan everything for you to pay, “You’re not with your girlfriend tonight?” Your heart skipped a beat, you were hesitant to pull your card out of your wallet. “Eh, you really think that’s my girlfriend?”

“That pink haired photographer, yeah.” The clerk finished scanning everything, putting everything in a plastic bag for you. “You two are here together almost every night for the last three months. I always thought there was something between you two.” With that, you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile. The grin stretched from one ear to the other, you were uncontrollably happy.

With that, you paid and quickly drove over to the studio without Yena knowing you would be there tonight. You park your car in the respective spot, not too far away from the entrance but close enough so you won’t be too cold from the weather. You pull your phone out to call Yena before entering the studio.

“Choi Yena, are you still doing the shoot?” Clearly, you’re playing stupid as you slowly walk through the main building’s door. You can see flashes of light emerge from the hallway, faint sounds of music playing. “Yeah, I’m probably going to skip dinner tonight if I have to finish the rest of the shoot tonight.” Yena struggles to hold her phone up with her shoulder while she takes a photo.

“What if dinner is brought to you tonight?”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

You end the call, Yena is genuinely confused, disregarding that she’s in a middle of the shoot.

“Choi Yena!”

You yell the photographer’s name out getting her to turn around to see you holding up a pair of bags with food and drinks. “Yah! What are you doing here?” The pink photographer couldn’t stop herself from smiling, carefully placing the camera down on a nearby table she runs towards you with her arms opened, which ultimately ends with her hugging you.

“I didn’t want you to skip dinner, so I thought to bring it to you.”

After a few minutes, you got dinner set up with Yena but also had brought snacks for Yena’s photography crew and models.

“Thank you for the meal!” Yena was overjoyed, you were happy to see her like this. Looking around the room with everyone talking and enjoying their little break from this late shoot. You begin to eat with Yena, the tteokbokki you had bought today tasted a better than it usually did, you felt happier today than you had in the past, butterflies start take off in your stomach.

You were confused on what this feeling was, this feeling that’s being built up inside you. The way Yena eats, the way she smiles at you, the way she speaks to you.

You love it all.

Love?

You were listening to Yena ranting about how her day went up to this point, how you were the one good thing to happen tonight. You were mindlessly listening, eating, the only thought that’s going through your mind is how perfect would it be if Yena could just end the session now and go home with you.

Stuck in your daydream, a sudden sound snaps you back to reality.

The buzzing from Yena’s cell phone disturbs your dinner, it seemed important to Yena as she immediately puts her chopsticks down, asking for a minute so she can pick up the call. “Go ahead Yena.” Getting up, you watch the distance between the two of you grow, you hated this distance.

You wanted Yena to be next to you all the time, you wanted to be with Yena as much as possible.

“What is wrong with me?”

Patiently waiting for Yena to return, you could only think of what the two of you could be doing on your days off, what type of dates she would like to go on with you. Nothing goes through you mind but Yena.

“Should I confess?”

“You look like you’re in deep thought.” Yena giggles as she has appeared before you, flustered from her sudden appearance, you try to recollect yourself.

“What was the phone call about?” You try to get Yena’s attention off you for being so unaware that she had returned. “Oh, nothing… My ex-boyfriend tried to meet with me, I told him to screw off.” Something inside you had suddenly dropped, like as if your heart and other inner organs had been pulled out of you.

“The two of you still talk?” You had a sudden loss of appetite, you were now only poking at the food, not looking to consume anything at this point. “Sometimes, he still gets on my nerves quite often, he wants to get back together, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us.” Yena takes her drink and aggressively chugs a large amount after speaking about her ex, you on the other hand sighed slightly in relief.

“I do enjoy the single life again, not having to be shackled to another person, I get to live with my freedom!” Yena jumps up on her feet and stretches her arms and legs, you couldn’t get a word out or say anything but just smile with Yena. “Anyways, I think I should get back to the shoot, I don’t want to stay here all night.”

You agreed with Yena, deciding to clean up after the two of you so you can let Yena go back to the studio floor. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Yena waits for you to get back up to give you a hug before running off to the studio.

“Damn it.”

~~~~~

“I’ll see you at our usual spot?”

The text you got from Yena earlier that evening, it’s almost essential that the two of you meet every night at the convenience or even at her studio now. It’s been almost a year of this same routine, of seeing each other majority of the week. You miss her when she’s not around, all you can think about is Yena, how is doing? What is she doing?

You try to keep your distance in respect of her, but you try to walk on a line between just being friends with her or confessing your feelings to her.

“You fool, you should just come clean, otherwise you’ll just be hurt again.” You try to motivate yourself to finally confess to the photographer Choi Yena. The little pink haired woman who happens to walk into your life, over marinated eggs of all things.

“Hey!”

“You’re here!”

“I’m so excited to tell you what happened today!”

All you can hear is her voice in your head.

All you can think about is you and Yena being together.

Today must be the day you tell her.

You pull up to the parking lot of the convenience, but you don’t see Yena’s car anywhere, she probably hasn’t arrived yet. “Great, gives me time to think.” You took a deep breath and shut off your car and stepping out.

Slowly approaching the door, you can recognize a certain someone through the windows looking around for food. Instead of a vibrant pink that you were so used to, you instead see a velvety red colouring, standing out a lot more than the usual pink.

The moment you were about to push the door open and walk in, your heart shatters in pieces.

You see a man put his arm around Yena’s shoulder, while Yena dips herself into the man’s embrace. The two can be seen talking through the window, she’s smiling towards him while the man is happy to be there with her.

“Ex-Boyfriend, huh?”

You slowly backed away from the door, you weren’t ready to face this. You didn’t want to face her in this state. There were no tears, but you felt like the world had just come crashing down on you.

What a fool you were, to think that you can find someone to be with.

“Who am I to think that I would be able to have a chance with someone like her?”

Walking back slowly to your car, getting in, and starting it, to get away from this place as soon as possible.

*Bzzz, Bzzz*

“Choi Yena”

She was calling, looking for you, but why would she want to be finding you in the first place?

You pick up the phone regardless.

“Hey! Are you close by?”

“Hey Yena! I’m sorry but I have to stay late at work tonight, I have a last-minute project to get started on right away.”

It was your first time having lied to Yena, you didn’t want to, but you needed to.

“I’ll call you when I can see you again, okay?”

“Oh, okay… I’ll see you soon then.”

The call ends abruptly after that, you dropped your phone in the passenger seat, ready to drive off home… Or wherever you can get to.

Just anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry Yena.”

Some things were just not meant to be, you and Yena just happen to be one of those things.

Love is... Isn't for everyone.

#Choi Yena #Yena #kpop fic #idol x reader

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superhero--imagines · 1 year

Text

Bat Boys on Valentines Day

Dick Grayson

* Made reservations a month ago

* Cross-checked the regular menu and seasonal menu to make sure there were things you’d like and conformed to your dietary preferences

* Surprises you with flowers and a big ticket high-fashion item like a Luis Vuitton bag or a pair of shoes

* When he hands it over the shocked look on your face makes him smile.

* You shower him with kisses in a second.

* “I” *kiss* “love” *kiss* “you” *kiss* “so” *kiss* “much!”

* He laughs at the ticklish feeling and kisses you back when it’s over.

* “No, I love you so much.”

Jason Todd

* He hates crowds and decides to make you a nice pleasant meal at home.

* He decided the menu over a month ago, a full four course meal with curated cocktails, wine and ambiance.

* He ‘borrows’ some fine dining dishes from the manor and sets the table up with candles and a bouquet of flowers.

* “Do you like it?” He asks, nervous and afraid—he cooks for himself all the time but cooking for you makes him afraid beyond belief

* What if you don’t like it? What if you have a secret allergy? What if you never want to talk to him again because he didn’t take you out like a traditional date?

* “I love it! The risotto is so good and, are these truffles?”

* Afterwards he gives you some books he knows you want or that you would like and pressed flower bookmarks that he made himself.

* “Jason Todd, you are my entire heart.”

Tim Drake

* He forgets.

* “I thought Valentine’s Day was always on Thursday!” He shrieks, flipping through the phone book for any restaurant that’ll take you.

* “That’s Thanksgiving Tim.”

* But it’s okay—

* “Shit, you think dominos will still deliver today?” You shout from the other side of the room.

* —because you forgot too.

* You have pizza in bed while watching movies and cuddling.

* “This isn’t the worst right?” He asks.

* “Any day with quality time with you is a good day.” You mumble after a yawn, cuddling into his chest as he flushed bright pink.

Duke Thomas

* Classic Dinner and a Movie

* You guys haven’t been dating for long so he doesn’t want to scare you off with anything intense.

* You end up goofing around too long at the arcade connected to the movie theatre and missing your reservation slot.

* You end up getting soft pretzels and sitting by the lake.

* “Honestly, I think this is way better than eating at a French restaurant.”

* He laughs, “any time with you is a good one.”

Damian Waybe

* It’s a three person date — You, Damian, and Titus.

* You go for a walk around the lake, playing with Titus and jokingly splashing each other, and then a picnic on the grassy bluff above.

* “It’s pretty quiet today, huh?”

* “Everyone’s probably at the new french restaurant downtown.” He holds out a dipped strawberry for you which you bite into.

* “The one you can pronounce?”

* You laugh at his frown, pressing a kiss to his cheek, only to laugh again when Titus nudges you with his nose and places his head in your lap with a wagging tag.

* “Of course I didn’t forget you, kisses for Titus too!”

Bonus:

Bruce Wayne

* Wines and dines and sixty-nines you

* He’s probably got a standing reservation at the best restaurant in the city on account of the fact that he’s richer than god

* Gets a private room or balcony that overlooks the city so you have privacy but also the glitz and glam of a night out

* Already called ahead of time and got the chef to make your favorite dinner—just for you

* As a gift he gives you six orgasms in a row a cute little diamond accessory with his initial in gold.

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sorchathered · 2 months

Text

Sacred New Beginnings

Chapter 5

A/N- this is NOT a finale guys! After much deliberation I decided I have too much to say for only 3 chapters, so we are on this train until I’m ready to give it up! 😂

Summary- it’s the morning after Mav and Penny’s wedding, and there are revelations to unpack as new drama unfolds.

Song inspo- Sunday kind of love- Etta James, You send me- Sam Cooke, Ironic- Alanis Morissette, Karma- Taylor Swift

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

Warnings- language, drinking, smut (wrap it up kids) minors dni.

Bradley wakes up to one of the worst hangovers he’s had in his adult life. He made it home and proceeded to drain most of his liquor cabinet after the wedding, it had been a bad day all around and seeing you and Jake wrapped up in each others arms after years of worrying was the icing on the cake. He knew logically he had no room to be pissed off, you knew everything now and there would be no salvaging your love life. He had hoped to explain it himself, maybe find a way to convince you it was nothing but in reality he knew that wasn’t the case. He’d continued a relationship with Mirage after you left, whether or not it was just sex didn’t really matter, he’d slept with someone else. His therapist had told him weeks ago that he believed Bradley was in love with the idea of love and having a family, less in the people he was in relationships with and while it had hurt to hear he knew somewhere in him it was true.

He’d loved the attention and adoration from his partners, and some part of him had loved Stormy once; but the two of you disagreed fundamentally on so many things. You were career driven, he wanted you to retire in the next 5 years so you could start a family, he wanted to stay in California and you had always dreamed of settling down south near your grandmother’s old home. When he’d seen you becoming more successful than him it had set a fire in him and he used it to burn your relationship to the ground. He didn’t deserve you, and he certainly didn’t get to dictate who you chose to be with after him.

As he stumbled through the house to let out his dog he appraised the damage. His clothes were scattered everywhere, liquor cabinet raided and somehow he’d left the fridge open. He was a mess right now, if his mother could see him she’d be so disappointed. He finally finds his phone in the couch cushions, messages and missed calls from Nat and Rueben clogging his notifications. He couldn’t dig into all of that right now, so he just called Nat to let him know he was ok, yanking the phone from his ear as she screamed into the phone.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

“Jesus dude I was asleep what the hell is wrong? You have a key you could’ve just come over if it’s that serious, who died?”

“Bradley. You haven’t been on instagram today have you?”

“No, but I already know about Jake and Stormy so if they went instagram official I’d rather not-“

“Wait what?! Never mind that’s not what this is about. You need to go to Mirage’s profile, right now.”

Bradley scrolls through the app and clicks on her profile, expecting to see she decided to stop waiting on him and find a boyfriend now or something stupid like that, only to be met with a carousel of photos. Pictures of the two of them, and at the end a picture of a pregnancy test, two pink lines confirming something he never dreamed of. Not only had she hard launched them, but she also told the world he was going to be a father…without confirming with him first. He was fucked.

——————————————————————

Meanwhile on the other side of North Island Jake is waking up to his version of heaven. His bed may be empty but he can hear the soft sound of you singing, and the smell of coffee and pancakes has him wandering down the hall. Your hair is in a messy knot, you’ve got one of his Texas longhorn t shirts on and you and Patsy Cline are crooning “Walking after midnight.” Flitting back and forth between chopping fruit and flipping pancakes, you sway to the song (your grandmother’s favorite) and he’s sure this is the best morning of his life. He sneaks up behind you to spin you and you shriek and giggle, swatting him with the spatula as he kisses your cheeks and forehead.

“Morning Tex, how’d you sleep?” You say with a big grin, running your free hand over his tanned torso and you catch him close his eyes and shiver into your touch.

“Mm, I’ll be honest darlin’ might have been the best night of sleep in my whole life, ‘cept I woke up alone and almost thought you were a dream.” He plucks the spatula from your hand and hip bumps you away from the stove, taking over your spot cooking and you make your way to the coffee pot to pour him a mug.

“I uh- I cancelled my flight for this afternoon” you’re trying to be nonchalant about it but you can tell by the way his head snaps up he is holding on to your every word.

“And I may have asked Uncle Beau for a favor and extended my leave for the rest of the week… I hope that’s ok, I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

You look a little nervous as he turns the stove off and looks at you, but he takes two big strides and yanks you into his arms, pulling at your (his) shirt and kissing you hard and you know you had nothing to worry about.

You both laugh into each other’s mouths, he’s hoisted you into his arms and delicately places you on the kitchen table, rucking your shirt above your breasts as he nips and sucks on the exposed skin.

“Jake- breakfast” you breathe out and he grins up at you between your thighs

“I want you for breakfast first baby, then we can have pancakes. Be a good girl and take it ok?”

He brings you to your release three times before he lets you up, grabbing the plates from the counter and sitting you in his lap. Between bites you reach into his shorts and pull him free lining yourself up with him and he hisses into your mouth.

“What’re you up to sweet thing?”

“Shhh, wanna be close baby, need you”

You take turns feeding each other while you slowly rock yourself on Jake, and it definitely is the best morning either of you have ever had.

——————————————————————

Neither of you had even touched your phones since you left the wedding the night before, it was nearing 5 pm and you had spent the day watching movies and letting Jake fuck you in every room of his house, finally deciding the two of you needed to eat you dragged yourself to his room to get your phone off the charger to order takeout. When you turned your phone on you were bombarded with notifications, nearly deciding to just turn it back off once you noticed you had a notification from Bradley. You ordered dinner and continued to ignore the overwhelming amount of messages, annoyance etched on your face when you came back to the living room, and Jake reached for your phone already knowing you wouldn’t want to pop the perfect bubble of the day.

“You don’t have to look at any of this shit today if you don’t want to y/n, we can worry about it tomorrow.”

You sighed and ran your hand over your face, it wasn’t that easy even if he tried to make it that way. “Will you just look for me? Tell Nat I’m not interested in hashing out the drama tonight and we can talk at lunch.”

He nodded and scrolled through, but as you watched his face you immediately knew something was wrong.

“Ok maybe you do need to tell me, what happened? Is someone hurt?”

He shook his head but looked almost nauseous, so you yanked the phone from his hands, he didn’t even bother to try and keep it from you.

On the screen was almost 30 messages from Phoenix, begging you not to check instagram. It had been hours since her last message but she seemed insistent that you call her first. She picked up on the first ring, screeching into the phone before you could say anything.

“Jesus! Where the fuck have you been Stormy? I had half a mind to come over to Hangman’s to beat the door down.”

“We decided to shut our phones off, sorry Tash. What is wrong? Please tell me everyone is ok.”

“Everyone’s safe, it’s not that kind of emergency. But it’s not good y/n. Bradley apparently saw the two of you last night, and then…”

“Then what? What Nat?”

“Y/n…Mirage is pregnant.”

——————————————————————

You knew it was the wrong way to respond, Jake had dropped his fork right out of his mouth at Nat’s declaration; that definitely seemed like more of a normal response. You on the other hand looked unhinged as doubled over in laughter, gasping for air as tears poured from your eyes.

“Seresin, what’s happening? Is- is she laughing?”

Jake looks at you like you have 3 heads but still manages to take your phone from your shaking form,

“Yeah Phoenix it looks like it”

“Do we need to be worried?”

“Too soon to tell, let me figure this shit out and we’ll call you later.”

He hangs up and takes your hand, you’re coming down from it now as you swipe the tears from your face, still trying to stifle giggles.

“Oh God,” you gasp out “I’m so sorry, but you seriously can’t make this shit up can you?” You erupt into another round of giggles and now Jake can’t help but join in, this really is a shitshow.

Finally you settle and he looks at you with concern, but you wave him off and move your take out boxes to the coffee table as you scoot into his lap. Running your hands through his hair you lean in to kiss him and as much as he doesn’t want to he pulls back to get you to look at him.

“I’ll let you bury yourself in me if you need baby but you still gotta talk to me ok? What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You shake your head at him and peck his lips, you knew he wouldn’t let you get away with pushing it aside.

“Is it strange that I almost feel bad for him? He’s burned his whole world down, knowing what I know now I would never want to be around him let alone with him again, and while I have thrived in his absence he just keeps ruining his life. I don’t miss him, but I pity him. Does that make sense?”

It’s definitely not the response he expected, he thought you’d be hurt and that it would rehash all the emotional damage you’d dealt with, he can’t help but be impressed.

“You’re taking this a whole lot better than I thought sugar, I gotta be honest.”

You pull him close as you straddle his hips, running your nose along his cheekbone and press kisses to his face.

“Like I told you, I don’t miss him. I don’t want him. I want you. This isn’t avoidance Jake, I moved on and I want to spend the rest of my life with you if that’s what you want too. So can we stop worrying about Rooster and his emotional bullshit and just go back to being us?”

He lets you take the lead, settling into the couch with you and switching the long forgotten movie back on, whatever his wingman’s problems are don’t include him after all. He’s got bigger things on his mind, like getting you back to San Diego or requesting a transfer to Pensacola. Maybe getting the two of you a bigger house with a yard, a dog or two and a backyard big enough to fill with your own kids. As he falls asleep trapped under your warm embrace visions of what could be dance behind his eyes, and he makes a mental note to ask his mother for Grandma Seresin’s engagement ring.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

Thanks so much to @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem, and @bobgasm for talking me through this chapter!!

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @pinkdaisies9285 @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @mygyn @angelbabyyy99 @86laura11 @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @jostan456 @kmc1989 @dempy @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @purelyfiction @nouis-bum

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#top gun maverick #jake seresin #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman smut #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin smut #Jake and Stormy #sacred new beginnings #snb

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leejungchans · 1 year

Text

rich girl — l.mh

word count | 3.2k

pairing | lee minho (skz) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions, a lil swearing, reader has icky friends

genre | fluff, angst if you squint, high school au, ???-to-friends/implied lovers au, lino’s a bit of a tsundere

note | i imagined this whole thing as a kdrama scene while writing which is why it’s kinda cliche and dramatic at parts 😭 not proofread but i will when i wake up

summary | of all the places to run into you, lee minho never expected it to be at a convenience store.

a/n | happy new year everyone 💖 i’m so sorry i haven’t posted anything in a bit, had a bit of writer’s block which is why this took months to finish but i’m slowly getting back into the groove!! to everyone who requested in my 1k event, i promise i’ll get to every single one of them so dw!! i hope you enjoy!!

“Thanks for today,” Yang Jeongin murmurs shyly, bowing his head as Minho pockets the money. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Even now, Minho still remembers the look on his friends’ faces when he told them he wanted to try tutoring the younger kids at school. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not the worst way to earn some extra money.

“It’s fine,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lemme know how the test goes and text me anytime if you have more questions.” He doesn’t really mean the latter part—responding to texts outside his self-scheduled working hours is hardly appealing—but it feels customary to say.

Jeongin nods, his arms hanging at his sides as he walks Minho to the front door. “Okay, thanks again. Have a good rest of your night.”

If the older boy had noticed how tense he is, he doesn’t point it out. It’s no secret that Lee Minho has a reputation at school for being intimidating, and while he was surprisingly patient for the entirety of those two hours, Jeongin still finds it hard to shake off that feeling of being scrutinised when his sharp, cat-like eyes constantly feel like they’re probing right into his soul.

“You too. I’ll see you around,” Minho says, hardly bothered by the awkward energy of the empty apartment as he slips on his shoes. He wonders for a brief moment where Jeongin’s parents are, but doesn’t entertain the thought for long because he cares more about going home to his cats. Going to a private school comes with a hefty price tag, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Jeongin’s parents are still at work much like his own.

The sun has long set by now, draping a blanket of dark indigo over the bustling streets as people rush to get home. Up ahead, Minho sees the glowing sign of a convenience store, and as though being reminded his stomach rumbles, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten since lunch.

He could go for some ramen, and this way he wouldn’t have to cook and do the dishes.

From the stocked shelves, he picks out his dinner—a bowl of Shin Ramyun, a tuna triangle kimbap and a bottle of green tea. Simple, yet so satisfying; his go-to no matter how many times Hyunjin teases him for getting the same thing time and time again.

Hyunjin makes fun of him, he lovingly threatens to shove tissue down his throat. Minho wouldn’t have it any other way.

A fond scoff falls from his lips as he waits for his ramen to cook. His eyes scan the store, flitting from the bored cashier picking at his nails to the girl sitting at the table just several feet away from him. It takes a few seconds for him to realise she’s wearing his school’s uniform, and another few to notice the polished shoes with the dainty gold buckles that look all too familiar.

It’s not just anyone from school—it’s you.

The realisation has him turning on his heel immediately. Surely, his back profile isn’t too recognisable? His heart skips a beat in his chest and only one thought consumes his mind as he hastily straightens his tie and redoes the first button on his shirt—what the hell are you of all people doing in a convenience store?

“You know, most people eat their noodles before they get soggy.”

Minho resists the urge to let a few colourful words slip. He doesn’t think your parents would appreciate learning that the student-guide assigned to their precious daughter was the one who taught her her first swear word.

Huh, that was a little mean. Distantly, Chan’s disapproving voice rings out from the back of his mind.

“Give her a chance, Minho. Just because she’s from a rich family doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. I’ve talked to her a few times, she’s really nice.”

His feet move slowly as he turns to face you, finding your eyes still trained on him as you await his reaction, glossy lips curled up amusedly. He wants to flee, wants to curse the gods for making him run into you at such a time and place. But he’s already made the ramen, it’s too late to leave.

Reluctantly, he grabs his dinner and makes his way over to the table, making sure you’re separated by a seat as he plops himself down on the squeaky bar stool. You don’t seem bothered, the little grin still ever-present on your face before you turn back to your dinner.

Minho watches from the corner of his eyes as you pick up your half-eaten kimbap, dunking the corner into the spicy broth before taking a bite. Maybe he’s a little impressed, he didn’t expect you to know the only correct way to eat kimbap and ramen—at least, the only correct way in his eyes.

“Don’t seem so surprised,” you quip lightly without looking up, “rich people eat ramen too.”

His cheeks grow warm from being caught staring. “Just didn’t expect you to hang around somewhere like this.”

“Are you kidding? I love convenience store food. They didn’t have the stuff here when I was at boarding school, I had to order everything I wanted online.”

“Must’ve taken a long time to get them shipped to you,” he muses. It’s strange, he thought he couldn’t care less about what went on in the fancy boarding school you attended before transferring here, but it’s refreshing hearing you talk about mundane things like bulk-buying instant ramen as though a squirrel stashing food away for the winter.

“Oh, it felt like forever each time! I felt like I was going to die craving all the snacks I couldn’t get there.” For a second there you sounded just like Hyunjin during his dramatic moments, like that time when Minho refused to pay for his ice cream and he acted like he was left to fend for himself in the wilderness.

He finds it oddly endearing.

“That’s not the worst part,” you continue, “the worst part was dealing with thieves in the dorms. I can’t count how many packs of ramen I had stolen from me.”

“Oh, the tragedy!”

You roll your eyes at the exaggerated gasp he lets out, though the action hardly holds any genuine annoyance. “I can’t tell if you’re still being serious.”

A small grunt leaves Minho as he twists open the bottle cap of his bottled tea. “I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if people stole food from me.” The worst Jisung’s done to him is snagging a few gummy bears, and that already feels like a criminal offence in his book.

“I guess that’s the second thing we have in common.”

“What’s the first? Having good taste in convenience store dinner?”

“I knew you were smart, Lee.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffs, yet his the corners of his lips can’t help but quirk up at the devious, teasing grin you flash him.

He’d rather do Hyunjin’s PE laundry for a month than admit it, but you’re kind of cute.

“What’re you doing in this area so late, anyways?”

You offer a smile in thanks as Minho holds the door open and gestures for you to go first. The two of you step out of the store, the frostiness of the winter night penetrating through the layers you’re wearing and settling deep into your bones.

“I was with Hyebin and the others.” He doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, the twinkle in your eyes dimming like a fallen star. He’s never liked the friend group you’ve found yourself in ever since you transferred over to the school. They’ve always given him the impression that they were more interested in your money and brains than anything. “They needed help with their homework.”

“Of course they did,” Minho scoffs.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“You need to be more careful with this stuff. The teachers aren’t as stupid as you think, just because you’re not the one doing the copying doesn’t mean you won’t get into trouble.”

“Gosh, what’s with the lecture? Why do you care who I hang out with?”

He freezes, pursing his lips together as he thinks of a counter. You’re right, why does he care? Perhaps your earlier conversation in the store changed his admittedly biased perception of you. Or perhaps despite everything he's ever thought about you, he thinks you still deserve better than Hyebin and her goons.

“W-Well, I was assigned to be your guide to the school,” Minho splutters, “sorry for taking my job seriously!” It’s a horrible excuse, so he’s not the slightest bit surprised when you don’t buy it at all.

“That’s funny, because you’ve made it pretty clear from the day we met that you couldn’t care less about a spoiled brat like me!” He hates that he still finds you cute even as you’re fuming and ranting at him. “Everyone at school is exactly like you, always making your own assumptions without even bothering to get to know me! Well, I’m telling you right now that I don’t need you to—”

“Watch out!”

Your foot gets caught on a raised ledge that you hadn’t noticed in your moment of frustration. You trip with a loud shriek, knees scraping painfully against the pavement as you break your fall with your hands. A burning sensation spreads across your face, and you’re utterly mortified that you just embarrassed yourself in front of someone the likes of Lee Minho while you were giving him a piece of your mind.

“Are you okay?” You feel his hand wrap around your arm as he helps you up, refusing to meet his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “You need to watch where you’re going.”

You tug your arm out of Minho’s grasp with an aggravated huff. “I’m fine!” you snap, but the pained hiss that whistles through your clenched teeth says otherwise as you attempt to stand without his support. Your left ankle throbs with a sharp pain, causing you to lose balance and stumble.

“Seems like you’re not,” he observes without his usual snark as he reaches out to hold you steady again. This time, you don’t shake him off. “You should get that checked out soon, it’s probably a sprained ankle.”

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. Scraped knees and a sprained ankle? You dread the earful you know you’ll be getting from your overprotective parents. Thankfully, your family’s driver is only parked a few blocks away from where you are, so you shouldn’t have to hobble too far—

“—get on.”

“H-Huh?”

Minho rolls his eyes at your dumbfounded expression, his knees bent as he gestures to his back with a tilt of his head, signalling you to climb on. “You said your driver is waiting for you nearby, right?” You nod. “I’ll carry you there.”

“You better not tell your friends that I forced you to do this,” you mutter sulkily.

“Jesus, Y/N. I don’t stoop that low. I’m the one who offered, okay?” At your hesitation, the sharp angles of his face soften ever so slightly. “I swear. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you walk three blocks on a twisted ankle.”

The sincerity in his eyes has knots forming in your stomach out of guilt, embarrassed that you’ve been so harsh on him for his intentions when all he’s done was offer help. Murmuring a thank you, you gingerly wrap your arms around his neck as his arms hook around your thighs. With a soft grunt, he draws to his full height and begins heading down the street.

The proximity between the two of you floods your cheeks with warmth. You’re certain you harbour absolutely zero romantic feelings for Lee Minho, your less-than-enthusiastic guide to the school who cares more about the stray cats lingering outside the gates than ninety percent of the student population—at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You suppose he can be charming, especially when he smiles; it’s a sight you’re hardly privy to seeing, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of his toothy grin when he’s talking to Chan or play-wrestling with the tall kid who’s on the soccer team.

And you suppose he’s pretty charming now too, not an indication of annoyance towards your current predicament as he piggybacks you the rest of the way to your car. A faint jasmine scent greets your senses, and it takes all your willpower to resist leaning in closer. Ugh, of course his shampoo just so happens to be your favourite scent too.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there,” you say quietly after a while. “I was frustrated with people at school but took it out on you, which was really unfair of me.”

For a brief moment, Minho doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he’s still upset. It’s understandable, but it leaves you with a sinking pit in your stomach and you’ve never wanted the earth to swallow you whole so badly until now.

“It’s okay.” You perk up a little at his unexpected response. “I get it, really. I’m sorry too, for letting all those stereotypes and assumptions get the best of my judgement. I was a pretty shitty guide, huh?” he jokes with a soft chuckle.

A smile slowly appears on your face at his attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ve seen worse, and in a way you did kinda help me learn my way around campus.”

“By avoiding you like my life depended on it while you searched high and low for me?”

“Questionable execution, successful outcome.”

His head tilts back as he lets out a genuine laugh, the bright sound only increasing the palpitations of your heart. “That’s how I roll. Leaves an impression.”

He certainly has. Never would you have guessed that you’d be seeing this side of Lee Minho tonight, or ever, and you don’t doubt that you’ll be thinking about this moment for the next week even if he goes back to being all ‘bad-boy’ with you tomorrow. It feels like you’re witnessing something you’re not supposed to, and it’s exhilarating.

His gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts. “I was serious about Hyebin. They’re using you, both her and her friends,” he says, spitting the last word out like it’s venomous.

“I know.”

“You know?”

You hum sadly. “My family runs a conglomerate and I’ve attended more of their functions than I can count. I learnt very early on what it looks like when someone’s only being nice to you because they want something.”

Minho nods in understanding, yet your response only begs the next question. “Then why do you still hang out with them? What do they have that you don’t?”

“Nothing, but… who else do I have at school? Almost everyone else is either no different from them, or are too intimidated to approach me even when I’ve done everything I can to prove I’m anything but.”

Something about how you don’t bother hiding the defeat in your voice makes his heart twinge with sympathy. He knows you’re right—hell, he considers himself unbelievably lucky that he managed to find people he genuinely sees as his close friends in a sea of snobbish, self-centred students.

“Hang out with us. Really,” he adds when you fall eerily silent. “I know we’re probably the furthest thing away from the people you’re used to associating yourself with, and I guess we can be a little weird sometimes—” admittedly, maybe a lot weird—“but we’re good people, especially my friends.”

Minho stops himself upon realising he’s already begun rambling, but the quiet giggle that reaches his ears relaxes him a little.

“I like weird.” Despite currently looking ahead, he can still hear the smile in your voice. “Wouldn’t I make things awkward, though? I don’t wanna intrude on anything.”

“Are you kidding? Once you're friends with Chan, he’ll find a way to make you feel comfortable no matter what. Do you like anime, by any chance?”

“Actually, yeah. I do.”

He chuckles, “Then you’ll have no problem getting along with my other friends too.”

“And what about you?” you ask softly. “Are you okay with it?”

“I’m the one who offered, of course I am.”

You’re unsure if you can consider Lee Minho your friend yet—or rather, if he’d want that or not—but one thing’s for certain: his authenticity is both admirable and appreciated. You don’t question his kindness now because he wasn’t afraid to show his genuine indifference in your encounters prior to today.

“Thank you, Minho. I don’t know what else to say other than… thanks, really.”

Spying your family’s car just down the street, he turns to grin at you, eyes curved and smile reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “Feel free to also comment on how unfairly handsome and strong I am.”

You respond with a fond roll of your eyes. He’s not wrong, but you don’t need to tell him that either. “Very funny, but yes, thank you for this too. I’m sorry you had to carry me all the way here.”

Now it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Stop apologising, Y/N, I wanted to. Hopefully your ankle isn’t too seriously sprained.”

“My parents are going to make such a big fuss if I need a cast.”

He snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the first one to sign it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumble sulkily, though it only makes him laugh harder. It’s beyond him how it’s possible for someone to sound this adorable even while swearing.

Carefully, he lets you down upon reaching the car, still holding you steady by your arms as the door slides open to reveal luxurious leather seats. He helps you into the backseat, offering a shy nod in greeting when your driver looks back to give you a questioning look.

“I’ll explain later,” you tell him before turning back to Minho, “let us give you a ride home.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he reassures, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I live really close by.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You better not be lying to me.”

Dramatically, he places a hand over his heart. “I swear.”

“I’m gonna ask Chan first thing when I see him.”

“You do that,” he replies smoothly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Relenting, you nod and return the smile he gives you. “Okay, get home safe. Good night, Minho.”

“Good night.”

Your eyes never leave his as the door shuts between you two. You look back at Minho through the tinted windows, finding him still standing at the same spot as he watches your car take off down the road. Even as you make a left turn, causing him to disappear from your line of sight, you don’t turn back until your driver feigns a cough, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“That boy,” he begins, eyes briefly flickering to meet yours in the rear-view mirror, “is he your classmate, Miss L/N?”

You nod.

“You two looked close.” He must’ve seen the look on your face because he lets out a hearty laugh, one you’ve grown accustomed to over all his years of service to your family. “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t tell your parents,” he reassures, “I just wanted to say that he seems to like you a lot.”

“Huh, is that so?” is all you say, yet you can’t fight the smile that appears on your face the second no one’s looking.

༉‧₊˚✧ thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog if you enjoyed my writing, and any form of feedback is greatly appreciated ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

#kdiarynet #sol.writings #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho imagines #lee know imagines #minho fluff #minho imagines

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Single mom Donna dating Y/N AU

I have a thing for MILFs okay? Sue me (Preferably with your lawyer who happens to be a hot mom XD) In this AU Donna owns a little shop that sells trinkets, antiques and other on-brand stuff. She’s a new mom (to baby Angie 🥺) and Y/N helps out around the shop. Let’s see what chaos today brings…

Y/N: *Whistling and carrying boxes of things to the storage room* I think this might be the last bit of stuff to move back here…

Y/N: *Walks in and freezes at what they see*

Donna: *Doing gentle yoga stretches with Angie strapped to her chest in a baby sling, telling her a story, doesn’t notice Y/N standing behind her* -So then, this idiota thinks it’s a good idea to lay her shopping basket right in front of mommy just so she can run and grab something. While I’m still walking down the aisle! I knew she already saw me too.

Angie: *Babbles and laughs*

Donna: *Smiles and giggles at Angie* I know, right?! Anyway, that’s not the worst of it. You know that thing she went to grab? Pre-made ravioli! In a can! Like, what are you an animal or something? I bet she breaks spaghetti in half before boiling it too.

Y/N: *Smirks and holds back a laugh*

Donna: Well, she messed with the wrong Italian! I went over and put the tomatoes, garlic and basil I already had into her basket. When she turned around and saw what I was doing she gets all huffy and says “What are you doing! That’s my basket, young lady!” and I turned around, smiled and said “Oh, I just wanted to give you a hand finding ingredients since you clearly don’t know how to cook.” and walked off!

Y/N: *Busts out laughing*

Donna: *Turns around startled, blushing*

Y/N: Wow, honey! You really showed her! *Walks into the room and puts the box they're holding down*

Angie: *Smiles and squeals seeing Y/N*

Y/N: *Using a baby voice* Hi, Angie! Did you miss me? *Kisses her head* Wow! Your soft spot’s closing up really nicely! Good work!

Donna: *Embarrassed, crosses her arms, pouts* Cara mia! We talked about this! I didn’t give her a beautiful name like Angelina so you could go around calling her Angie. What kind of silly American nickname is that, anyway? *Does an impression of Y/N* AnGiE, AnGiE!

Y/N and Angie: *Giggling loudly*

Donna: You make her sound like she protests at pride festivals and lives with ten cats!

Y/N: *Laughs really hard, kisses Donna* I’m sorry, Donna! But she’s just a little baby! It sounds like a lot of name for such a tiny person! *Lets Angie grab their finger*

Donna: *Gasps, offended* I will have you know that she is a very sophisticated and independent little lady!

Angie: *Chewing and drooling on Y/N’s hand*

Y/N: Yeah… maybe try that with someone who isn’t currently on the baby buffet. *Grins*

Donna: *Groans and swats Y/N’s shoulder* Did you need something, amore, or can we get back to baby yoga?

Y/N: ??? What the hell is baby yoga?

Donna: *Swiftly covers Angie’s ears* Don’t swear in front of her, Y/N!

Y/N: *Dumbfounded* What?! That’s not fair! You were just telling her about the Chef Boyardee hate crime you committed!

Masterlist

#donna beneviento #re8 #re8 village #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #angie beneviento #y/n is stupid

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strawberry-cowmilk · 1 year

Note

Here's the other one! Selective mute lover mc (separately again) who hasn't actually spoken a word to the boyfriend, when the bf has the worst day says "I love you" verbally (Lucifer, diavolo, barbatos and Simeon, ((again if you want beel and Satan((I feel like Satans would be specifically cute since you know he's wrath and going near him when he's ANGRY is dangerous))

Hi, welcome back! I'm doing the same format as before if that's okay. Enjoy!

Mc tells them they love them after a rough day

-> lucifer, barbatos, diavolo, simeon, satan and beelzebub x mc

important: I am no expert on selective mutism, if I mess anything up, let me know

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: drinking in lucifer's part, (mild??) violence and screaming mentions in satan's part

-----

Lucifer

lucifer has had bad days, but never like this

some last minute important paperwork came up, asmo and mammon accidentally destroyed the potions lab, the house has a leak in the bathroom and beel ate the router again, guess who's paying for all the damage

lucifer flopped into his office chair, completely filling up a wine glass

that was when you walked in, the first thing you did was take the alcohol away from him

he felt terrible, drinking is in no way a coping mechanism, he should have known better

just as lucifer was about to apologise, an 'I love you' came out of you

this man is so proud of you, enjoy your week of being spoiled

Diavolo

today was a day filled with meetings with the driest devildom nobles

also there was a lot of paperwork due this same day, plus rad needs a new potions lab since it got destroyed by two clowns who mixed every substance together

in short: the day was filled with stress

when diavolo came home after the 3am meeting, he went straight to bed

the prince didn't even greet barbatos or chance his clothes, just hopped under the sheets right away

you were chilling in the same bed before, though, and jumpscare aside, you could tell diavolo was unhappy

you tried your very best to get over the anxiety and told him you loved him

diavolo carefully held you, you made his night better

Barbatos

barbatos is proud of the flawless work he always manages to do, but today wasn't his day

he accidentally knocked a vase over and burned dinner, making the smoke alarms go off

although diavolo insisted everything is fine, it didn't feel like that for barbatos

the butler was clearly mad at himself for messing so many easy tasks up in the same day

you want him to feel better, so you went over to him to just spend time by his side

and eventually you got the courage to say you love him

it seems like all negativity evaporated from barbatos, he knew you loved him but hearing you verbally say it, he's so proud

'I love you too, dear'

Simeon

there was a lot of drama going on in the celestial realm for a while, so simeon had to go up there

and when he came back to purgatory hall, he found out solomon had cooked food while luke was taking a nap

simeon acted like everything was okay, but on the inside he was screaming and fighting

hopefully tomorrow will be better, right?

little did he know you were going to make the rest of the day better

before he went to bed, simeon went to the house of lamentation to wish you good night and to see you because trust me after the drama of the day, he needs to see his favorite human

it was really quiet, but simeon's pretty sure he heard you say 'I love you'

he's so happy! but he knows that was probably really hard for you, he'll stay the night if you want

Satan

the rad professor put him and lucifer together to work on the next project, the cat cafe was closed and he dropped the book he was reading in the toilet

satan can be really good at keeping his anger under control, but the amount of things that went wrong today was too much

he went to his room, closed the door and started throwing stuff in all directions

when you were walking past his door with levi, you could hear the noises from inside

levi was too scared to go in, but you were worried, so you opened the door

satan was about to scream at you for coming in, since he could have hurt you, but he didn't in fear of scaring you

he sat on the floor, head in hands when you approached him and told him 'I love you'

every drop of anger vanished, he'll thank you for stepping out of your comfort zone for him

Beelzebub

it was a lot of small stuff that piled up

first, he couldn't find belphie for a good while in the morning, then the rad cafeteria was closed, later at akudonald's the ice cream machine was broken, also the sole of his shoe came off randomly and it rained the whole time during sport practise

he just wanted to go home and eat in peace on his bed

you were with him the whole day, actually, you saw everything go wrong

poor beel doesn't show it but he's annoyed to the max right now

you really want to comfort him, but how? time to leave the comfort zone

beel thought he imagined it at first, but smiled widely when he realised you actually said you love him

he tries his best to not squeeze you too hard when hugging

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me swd #obey me imagines #gn!mc #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me satan #beelzebub obey me #tw drinking #tw alcohol

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darlingshane · 1 year

Text

secret ingredient

Michael Berzatto x Pregnant!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,9k

Summary: Michael has a crush on his pregnant neighbor and uses food as a tactic to win them over.

Content/Warnings: Pregnancy, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Food, Eating, Complicated feelings.

-- Read below or at AO3.

Michael has had a huge crush on his neighbor – you – ever since he met you a few months ago when you moved into the unit across from him. The problem with his infatuation is that you’re very pregnant, and right about to pop. He doesn’t mind that at all, no. Good news is that the father of the baby is out of the picture; bad news is you’re not interested in seeing anyone right now. That’s what he’s gathered from all the times you’ve hung out. So, he basks in the friendship you’ve offered, hoping someday you’ll see him differently.

In all Michael’s hope, he uses his best tool at hand to win you over. More specifically, he targets and makes his case to your stomach; and every night, he brings you food from the restaurant after closing. It’s not just a conquering tactic. As a friend, right now he just wants to be helpful cause the last month has been very challenging for you. You’re two weeks away from your due date, and your girdle pain has severely become more unbearable, rendering you useless for the most part of the day. The only thing he can do to make your life a little easier is bringing a dish particularly crafted for you, so you don’t have to waddle to cook something for yourself or order something subpar from any other place.

Once the shop is closed, when all the staff has left, and the lights go out, he comes out of his office, slings on an apron and directs all his attention, and puts all his heart, on cooking something to make you feel better. It’s been a learning experience cause your cravings have shifted often and what you loved yesterday might not please your stomach today, so he does a different thing every day. Tonight he’s going for a grilled chicken sandwich. He takes his time marinating the breast before grilling it. He tops it with lettuce, tomato slices, onions, and pickles; he knows you’d never say no pickles. Then, he layers all the ingredients in a toasted sesame bun and wraps it before heading home.

He can tell by the time you take to open the door you’re getting more exhausted every second closer to the end of your pregnancy. He hands you the sandwich, and you almost rip it out of his hands by how good it smells. It makes him chuckle as he closes the door behind him and sits with you for a while to watch you slowly savoring the food he prepared.

“How’s the little guy doing?” he gazes at your rounded belly.

You shrug, chewing your food, enjoying the amalgam of flavors caught in your taste buds, “I think he wants to get out.”

“Yeah?”

“Hm-hmm, I’ve had two contractions in the past hour.”

“Shouldn’t you call your doctor or something?”

“I did. She said to time them, and call again if they get more intense and closer.”

“What about that Braxton guy?”

“Braxton Hicks?” you snort, “it didn’t feel like that.”

“Why are you so chill?”

“I’m not,” you quickly reply, smoothing a hand over the stretched shirt covering your pregnant belly, “I’m trying to stay calm, so he’d chill a little.”

“May I?” One of his hands hovers over your belly, and you nod shyly.

You swallow the lump in your throat as he places his palm on the topside of your tummy. It’s not the first time he’s done that, but every time he does, it makes your stomach flutter all the same. Michael puts the same love in that gentle touch, as he does in all the food he brings you.

He came into your life like a blessing in the middle of one of the worst times of your life, and his friendship has made life more bearable in these past few months. How in the world you got pregnant by some asshole instead of someone like Michael goes beyond comprehension. It feels like the ultimate joke. Though, there are bigger things in your mind right now than considering dating in your situation, you wish you’d met him sooner.

Whatever feelings you’re harboring for the chef, you have to put them aside. You’re heavily focused on bringing the little guy growing inside you into this world safe and sound, and starting something with Michael in this crucial point of your life would only make it more confusing for you and for your baby boy, and you can’t have that.

It’s pretty obvious, he likes you back. Who’d hang with a pregnant idiot like yourself this much if it wasn’t interested in something more? Even your most loyal friends aren’t as concerned as he is. He listens to all your complaints, makes you laugh, and most importantly– he feeds you. Every fucking night for the past couple of months you’ve been spoiled by having a personal chef sating all your cravings. If that's not love, then what is?

His beautiful lips curve up when the baby kicks right below his palm. He leans closer and in a moment of temporary confusion, every rational thought leaves your mind, and you tilt your head and press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. It takes him by surprise, and his bottom lip trembles as you pull your head back slightly.

“Sorry,” you mumble, tearing up at how stupid you feel after doing that. A second after, your apology is wiped away when his mouth sweetly presses against yours once more. It lingers for a hot minute before having his lips bouncing against yours several times, bumping your nose with his as his face tilts to the other side.

Your heart races when his mouth parts wider, inviting you into a deeper kiss. You accept and shyly send your tongue to meet him in the middle. His hand is still on your tummy, and you tentatively place your palm over his knuckles. You feel him smile as he kisses you ever so slowly until you feel another kick lower in your abdomen, and you jerk your face away.

Wait… it’s not a kick, you quickly realize. You hum lightly in pain, as that semi-familiar cramping from earlier that flares at your lower back and wraps all around your abdomen, and you even feel it reaching your thighs this time. You clench your teeth as Michael takes his hand away and soothes your back instead until it passes.

Relaxing once the pain has dulled, you lean back against the backrest and inhale deeply.

“I don't know how to fit you into my life right now, Michael. I wish I could.”

“Honey, don’t worry about that right now. Was that–”

“Uh-hm,” you check the clock in your phone to calculate the time since the last one, 18 minutes. They’re too far to tell if you’re in active labor. Could still be false, but you doubt that, cause like everything else in your life, nothing ever turns out like it’s supposed to. “I think you should go.”

“I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

“You’re too damn stubborn, you know that?”

“Said the kettle,” he scoffs, “do you really want me to leave?”

You think for a beat, and shake your head, trying not to burst into tears, “I just don’t wanna be an inconvenience. I got myself into this, I should deal with it alone. You’ve done too much for me already… I could never ask you to do this.”

“Sweetheart,” he exhales, “you’re not, and you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. Nobody should. I’ll go if you don’t want me here, but know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, got it?”

“Got it,” your lips turn up slightly, and he mirrors your response.

“Then that’s settled.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and go lay down on your bed for a bit and see if it passes while Michael makes himself useful washing your dishes and putting away the half sandwich you left unfinished.

He truly is heaven-sent. He checks on you every few minutes and brings you water, and later sees that his car has enough gas to take you to the hospital. He sure would do anything for you, without question. Much like you said, he doesn’t know how he’d fit into your world, either, but he wants to figure out. The fact that you’re having a baby is not the most scary thing about you, it’s the thought of not having you at all is what terrifies him.

Your baby boy wants to get out tonight, even if you’re not ready. The non-stopping contractions, coming increasingly closer every time, tell you that it’s time to accept he’s not slowing down and that you need to get to the hospital.

Michael drives you. This wasn’t on his plans tonight, but he doesn’t wanna be anywhere else, to be honest.

It comes out naturally for him to take care of you during this long process that lasts thirteen hours. Though he's never had to face anything like this, taking care of family is part of what makes him– him. And you, whether you are together or not, feel like family to him.

The feeling is mutual, even if you haven’t come into terms with it yet.

When the big moment comes, he never leaves your side. He holds your hand, tight, until the baby is out. It’s then that he steps back for you to meet your son. That’s a sacred moment he doesn’t want to interrupt.

Once you're both settled, he leaves for a few hours to check on the restaurant, and comes by later with a bouquet of flowers and a big teddy bear.

“Hey,” you beam, glancing at Michael from the bed, holding your little guy tucked like a burrito in your arms.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Tired but good. We’re good.”

“So, this is Rhys,” he places the gifts down and comes closer to take a good look at the newborn.

“This is Rhys,” you repeat.

“He looks like you.”

“God, I hope so,” you gently touch Rhys’ chin, and he scrunches his tiny face.

“You did really well. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” you gulp the lump in your throat, and gaze at Michael, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Listen, I uh… I need to ask you something. You can say no, but I was thinking of giving him Michael as his middle name. I didn’t have one when we came here, and it’s fitting. You were here with us all night, you’re one of my best friends and I just… I don’t know. It doesn’t have to mean anything other than that. I know what happened last night was confusing, and I’m not asking you to marry me, just… I want him to have your name if you agree.”

“Wow,” he swallows, flabbergasted, “really? He can have it if you want, sweetheart. You didn’t have to ask.”

“Okay, good,” you exhale, “cause I was already getting used to how it sounded.”

“Rhys Michael,” he pronounces slowly, “yeah, sounds good.”

“You wanna hold him?”

“Maybe later. He looks so cozy in there. I don't wanna upset him.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and he gently picks Rhys up from your arms and sits on the chair next to the bed.

It’s such a weird, overwhelming feeling seeing Michael cradle your baby in his arms, and it saddens you that his own father wasn’t here to meet him, but at least he’d have Michael as an ally, a cool uncle, a best friend perhaps… whatever he decides to be, you know it’d be good for both of you.

#jon bernthal #michael berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #fluff #darlingwrites

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nana-kom · 3 months

Text

Hiiii 🥰 it’s been a long time since I write something right ? But I was feeling very inspired today, so this is my first seventeen fic, i hope you’ll enjoy 🥺

This is a weight gain fic, this contain feedism and weight gain.

Enjoy 💜

The bet

It had been weeks since everyone had been preparing for their new comeback, and everyone was making an effort, every day to rehearse, train and, worst of all, watch their diet in order to lose weight before the first performances. And this aspect of the comeback was what drove the members to despair one by one, and the worst of it was that all but one were paying attention. Indeed, Seungcheol knew very well that he didn't have to diet like the others or be careful, because most of the things he ate he was able to eliminate by exercising or simply turning them into muscle. And that's what the members were jealous of: he ate to his heart's content and in the end he managed to keep a slim figure, and on top of that he was so muscular. They all found it hard to watch him eat and even nibble from time to time, while they were sadly content with the minimum.

Just like this morning, when Jeonghan woke up, he joined Seungcheol who was already in the kitchen eating a rather large breakfast, consisting of two eggs and rice with a protein shake and some small side dishes. He then rolled his eyes and went to sit down next to him, taking some food himself, but saying nothing, then it was Soon-young’s turn to join them for the breakfast like usual. And when he saw his friend's breakfast, he frowned, this time really fed up with seeing him eat so much in front of them.

"It's not fair that you're not in diet !" he then said.

"You're just jealous!" bounced seungcheol, taking another big spoonful of rice.

"Yeah, totally..." added Jeonghan, looking down at his glass of water.

"We can't all have perfect metabolisms," said seungcheol, laughing lightly.

"Yeah, well, it's sport that helps you most of all...considering how you eat..." replied Soon-young in turn.

"You know what ? I'm sure I could double all my quantities and I wouldn't gain a pound !" Jeonghan straightened up in surprise, then met Soon Young's gaze and they smiled at the same time.

"So let's bet! You double all the quantities until the comeback and if you win you'll have proved us wrong, and if you lose, you'll admit that your metabolism isn't so perfect." seungcheol hesitated for a moment then shook hoshi's hand.

"Deal!"

The two men left him to enjoy his last day, waiting patiently for the next day to take care of his case. Seungcheol finished his day quietly, eating well and going to the gym, then falling asleep peacefully in the evening knowing that he'd already won. What he didn't know was that his two friends were really motivated to make him lose. When he got up the next morning, he went to the kitchen, sawing his friends starting to prepare his breakfast. These two friends had a good idea in mind : instead of letting him cook as usual, they would began to prepare his breakfast. Turning his usual meal into : two rices plates, four eggs and two protein shakes, while adding a few nibbles on the side. And they kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't cheat. Seungcheol didn't let himself be disturbed, however, and started to eat, taking his eggs as usual and quietly eating his breakfast. Despite everything, he was starting to feel the difference in his belly, he had the impression of already feeling full even though he hadn't eaten half of it, but he didn't intend to lose out and finished the rest. He also drank his first protein shake in its entirety, then kept the second to accompany him to the gym. On the way, he could feel his belly swelling, but he knew his body would get rid of it quickly, and he intended to win by following all the rules. At the end of his workout, instead of a glass of water, he started his second drink and took cereal bars as usual, doubling the quantity. This exercise continued for the rest of the day, and at lunchtime in the cafeteria, the other members served him not one but two heaping trays to complete the challenge he'd accepted the day before. He looked at the two and swallowed, everything still seemed a lot and he'd agreed to double the quantities but not the workouts, but it was only the first day, he knew his body would get used to it. He then finished both trays and let out a big sigh this time, feeling really full. Even though he had a big appetite, he wasn't used to eating so much. For their part, Jeonghan and Hoshi were enjoying the view and looking forward to winning, as they would make sure things didn't turn out the way Seungcheol had planned.

Back at the dormitory in the evening, Seungcheol was in the habit of eating light or ordering food from time to time. He was surprised when he came across the members eating at the table, and in his place there were two boxes of pizza waiting for him.

"What's this?"he asks

"Pizzas ? We thought you might be hungry on the way home..." then said Jeonghan playing innocent.

"I see what you're trying to do...it won't work!"

He then sat down in his place, opened the pizza box and began to chew it, smiling as he looked at the two men in front of him, tasting the first pizza with pleasure and taunting them for being able to enjoy something fatty when they were content with a salad. But the two men weren't touched by his behavior. When he started on the second pizza, it was harder to swallow: he could feel his belly already starting to pull, and everything he'd eaten during the day was already weighing down. He then unbuttoned his pants to make room and finished his pizza as best he could before resting his back against the back of the chair and rubbing his belly, trying to digest calmly, and inflating his stomach to make room. At this point, Jeonghan got up to fetch a tub of ice cream from the fridge and moved closer to him.

"you're having ice cream at night aren't you?"

"I'm...full...I...can't..."

"So you're losing already?"

"I don't even have the strength to...move the..."

"We'll help you hyung, don't worry..." added Soon Young from behind.

Jeonghan then opened the ice cream tub and began to feed it to his leader, who couldn't refuse. He felt heavy and full, yet his pride told him to carry on. He felt as if his belly was going to explode, and that he'd never be able to finish, yet he suddenly felt Soon Young's hands start to gently massage his belly as Jeonghan fed him. He was a little disturbed, but at the same time, the sensation of having food in his mouth while someone else was gently massaging his belly wasn't unpleasant - quite the contrary... he could even get used to it...

And so it was, for the rest of the week. He'd leave in the morning full of breakfast, with his two drinks with him, then at lunchtime, he'd eat at the agency with his two trays carefully prepared by the members, then in the evening, he'd find himself in this sort of feeding session with his two friends, who took care of feeding him and relieving him of all that food. However, to everyone's disappointment, after a week he hadn't put on much weight, and they even began to wonder if his body was as miraculous as all that. And between his sports sessions and the choreography rehearsals, he was also spending more than expected. It was then that Jeonghan decided to change the rules, transforming the two protein shakes into weight gain shakes...only to make the bet a little fairer...and nobody needed to know, right ?

And halfway through the second week, Seungcheol was surprised to discover that his T-shirt was too small. He pulled at it as hard as he could, but nothing helped: his belly was sticking out. He then went to look in the mirror and was surprised to see his reflection: his weight gain was slight but visible. He bit his lip as he looked at his muscular arms, where the fat was beginning to show and jiggle when he moved. His belly was much more swollen than before, and a light layer of fat was appearing, while the fat on his buttocks was more than noticeable. But the bet was not lost after all? He still had three weeks to go, and nothing to lose in the process. So he put on a much larger sweatshirt and a pair of jogging shorts he was sure he'd fit into, and found his two friends, as usual, preparing food for him...they're really motivated...he thought.

What he also found different as the days went by was that the proportions kept increasing so that he felt full enough to go to work. Although the bet was to double the quantities, he found himself hungry from time to time and started adding different snacks to his diet. And also sometimes instead of going to eat in the cafeteria, he went to fast-food restaurant, or just restaurants, sometimes even all-you-can-eat buffets. What he hadn't counted on was that, on top of all the food he was eating, his stomach was also demanding more and more. And with so much to eat, there was an addictive side to going on and on. To get a nice rub from his members, to be offered the chance to finish the dishes, to find himself tired enough to go to the gym, and to spend one of his days doing nothing but letting his friends pamper him, feeding, massaging, feeding again, and yet still having this hunger inside him that continued to grow.

By the end of the third week, his body had definitely changed, and this was thanks to what Hoshi and Jeonghan had added to his diet, so that calories would accumulate more easily. One morning, they were surprised when Seungcheol didn't come out of his room as usual and, intrigued, Jeonghan decided to go and see him. Jeonghan knocked on Seungcheol's door and went inside. He was surprised to find the leader still asleep, with his belly exposed and about twenty empty snacks beside his bed. He smiled as he looked at his friend - he'd really got him hooked, hadn't he? He then passed his eyes over his admiring body, their masterpiece. His belly, which had been slim and muscular three weeks earlier, had turned into a fatty covering with bulges that were now visible, his thighs were much wider and fattier than before, not to mention his new breasts, which were apparent. Oh yes, he had changed, he was no longer the muscular man of a few weeks ago, and it was all thanks to his friends who had made it a point of honor to feed him like the little pig he was deep down. Jeonghan then walked over to the bed, and sat down beside him, gently caressing his face and taking the opportunity to feel his soft cheeks against his hand, and his double chin now part of his face, having totally obliterated his well-defined jaw. Maybe his metabolism had been fast enough to make him lose weight before, but with this new diet his body knew how to pile on the pounds easily.

"hyung...your breakfast is ready!" then said Jeonghan gently and Seungcheol woke up and smiled softly, thanking him.

He then began to sit up but realized that his stomach was preventing him from sitting up, wasn't he supposed to have abs? He wondered, and then Jeonghan took his hands to help him sit up, taking the opportunity to kneel down and gently caress his belly, which was now resting on his legs.

"Are you going to admit you lost?" then said jeonghan, looking up.

"No...well....I haven't finished the bet yet..."

"But there's one piece of evidence you can't hide any longer." he said as he straightened up and caressed his new curved hide of his body, until seunghceol's belly suddenly began to rumble and jeonghan smiled. "well..let's move on you must be hungry little piggy..."

"I'm not..."

"No, of course not...not yet..."

The days continued to pass, and what should have been evidence for Seungcheol was not, and he would not admit defeat. How could he have lost so miserably? He'd lost to his friends in what should have been an easy challenge, and all he'd gained was weight, and he loved it. Seeing his body get fatter and fatter, greedier and even hornier at the mere thought of getting fatter and fatter, being able to gorge himself all day long and, above all, having his friends encourage his behavior was like a kind of paradise, and he'd largely lost himself in it. For not only had he still managed to make the comeback, but once he'd finished, he'd lost himself in the food again, eating meal after meal, taking larger portions than the others and barely feeling full. And he liked it that way, his body was far from what it had been, as if he'd become the opposite of himself, but he liked himself even more that way. That day, he was sitting on the sofa, having just finished eating a menu designed for four people and trying to massage his stomach in the absence of his friends. He was wearing a T-shirt that was far too small for him, and wearing pants would have been pointless given his condition, and was calmly digesting his meal. His body was sinking into the sofa and his belly would soon fall between his legs; he'd been surprised to discover that a new roll had formed from his belly fat, and he liked it even more. When he was almost in a food-coma, he heard the door open and his two friends arrived with food in their hands.

"We bought you food!" said Soon Young. "oh...you started without us...greedy boy..."

"It was just a little snack..." he said, returning his gaze wondering what was in the bags he was holding.

"Greedy and on top of his lying...if you want to see the contents of his bags you'd better be honest, big boy!" said Jeonghan sitting beside him stroking his belly.

"I was just hungry...this big belly need to be fed..."

"I thought you could double the quantities of your meals without gaining a single gram hyung..." said Soon Young then, this time wanting him to admit defeat.

"I...I...thats because..."

"You're a greedy pig?"

" Y..yeah...and...I need food... "

" Of course you need it...and we are here to take good care of our favorite leader... "

"Thats why I think we should bet more often... "

#weight gain fic #chubbyseventeen #chubby scoups #weight gain svt #chubby kpop #weight gain kpop

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axgelcxltz · 10 months

Text

The love of everyday kisses—Bang Chan x reader

Summary: You and Chan have been in a relationship for quite a while now and you've grown to love him, especially his kisses.

︶⊹︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶⊹︶

The mornings were always the worst, especially when the morning sun would always find its way through the window. The curtains never helped much, either. You often complained to Chan about them, often saying, "Chris, today's the day! We're getting new curtains."

Which would never happen. But despite your strong hatred for the curtains and the light coming through, not to mention the fact that you'd have to get up from your warm, comfy bed, which made the morning awful, there was one thing—the one person that made the morning a little better—and that was Chan, being greated with a kiss on the head each and every time.

After all, the last time he attempted to give you a kiss on the lips early in the morning, you told him not to. "Nooo, I have stinky morning breath." Which only earned a small laugh from him.

After that, Chan would leave for work, and your day would start as you prepared for work, which was always a bore, but it was worth it. Because if you got through the day, then you'd be able to see Chan much sooner.

︶⊹︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶⊹︶

Walking through the door of your shared home, you were almost immediately greeted with soft and comforting kisses from your boyfriend, who was always excited to see you arrive home. "Hi love, how was your day?" He'd ask as he helped you remove all of your belongings, such as your coat and bag.

"It was good love, how about yours?"

"Good, better now that your here." He replied.

And with that, the two of you shared a kiss—a much longer kiss than the one from earlier in the morning. Parting ways from your kiss a few moments later, the two of you began making dinner together.

Dinner wasn't an easy task, though. The two of you constantly went back and forth with different ideas of what to make—he had different ideas, you, not so much.

"Channie let's make noodles."

"No, we've had noodles for most of the week, we can't keep eating noodles y/n."

"Yes we can." You retorted.

"No, we need to eat food of more variety.."

"Fine."

Although you had your way most nights, Chan took the win tonight when he decided what you'd both eat. Before preparing anything, he kissed your forehead and started cooking.

Once dinner was made, eaten, and the dishes were cleaned, the two of you spent the rest of the evening watching movies, cuddling, and kissing. Chan made sure to leave kisses all over, from your face to your neck, and even lower... to your thighs, of course!

Once the movie came to an end, Chan got up, and you followed soon after. Both of you made your way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The apartment was filled with loud laughs from the two of you, who were constantly making fun of each other because of how silly you both looked in the face masks you decided to wear, which soon turned into you both splashing water at each other.

By the end of your nightly routine, the two of you were slow dancing in the small bathroom, sharing kisses ever so often. "We should get some rest, love." Chan says as he takes your hand, leading you out of the bathroom and into your guy's room.

The two of you get dressed in comfortable clothes before sharing one last kiss before falling asleep in each other's arms.

#skz fluff #stray kids #fanfic #kpop fanfic #chan x reader #fluff #stray kids fanfic #chan x you #stray kids fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #bang chan #bang chris #bang chan fanfic

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steventhusiast · 11 months

Text

more autistic steve with ARFID (avoidant restrictive food intake disorder) projection time BUT this time a less hopeless and sad day for steve because i have had a good two days :] CW disordered eating

part 1 / part 2

since steve’s current period of bad with ARFID started and he told eddie about it, eddie started a nightly routine for them. every night when they get into bed and lay there on their sides, facing each other, eddie does a little check in. it’s always the same question: how do you feel about today?

it makes steve feel different things every time eddie asks it. sometimes it brings instant tears to his eyes because the day was so hard and he feels defeated. sometimes it makes him avert his eyes and pick at the sheets because he’s embarrassed about how his eating habits impacted the day. sometimes it makes his jaw clench in anger because he’s frustrated with himself and the fact that his boyfriend has to act as his god damn therapist every evening. it usually rotates between those emotions.

but today? today it brings a new emotion forward. fear.

because today has been strangely good. he reached his goals of eating a full breakfast, lunch and dinner. and the thing he’s most proud of is his dinner and the hours after.

recently, his dinner meals have been substituted for safe foods; cheese sandwiches, an apple, a packet of chips and chocolate bars. he feels guilty for rejecting whatever eddie’s cooked every time, but the thought of putting a spaghetti noodle or piece of cooked fish in his mouth makes him anxious at the best of times and nauseous at the worst. tonight though, he had felt hungry. the meal being cooked sounded appetising, and he ate it.

sure, it took him longer than a typical person would take to eat a meal. and sure, it was still a very safe version of a real dinner meal (breaded chicken strips and french fries). and sure, he had to distract himself a bit with the TV while he ate. but he ate. the whole. thing. the smile on eddie’s face as steve ate had made him feel so proud of himself, and the anxiety he’s been feeling recently during meal times had been suspiciously quiet. easy to ignore.

after a meal is usually the worst parts of the day for steve. he hates the sensation of being full, and feeling the food sitting there in his stomach, hates the knowledge that it’s going to sit there for hours while it digests. and sure he still got anxious tonight, but not debilitatingly so. there was no pacing back and forth, no self-harmful stims. he managed to just sit with eddie and cuddle him quietly while he practiced his breathing and watched what was on the TV.

so, eddie as usual asks his nightly question.

“how do you feel about today, lovely?”

steve hesitates and mills over what he really wants to say.

“..good.” he settles on, but feels dread pool in his gut as he says it. eddie raises an eyebrow in response.

“you don’t sound sure.”

“today was good. it’s just..” steve trails off, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words.

“what if tomorrow’s not?”

“what do you mean, baby?” eddie props himself up on one elbow as he speaks, brows becoming furrowed as he puts all his attention on steve.

“you were so proud of me today, for eating well. what if i wake up tomorrow and food feels harder again? i- i want to get better so bad and i’m scared that today was just a fluke or something.” he doesn’t fully think through his words as he talks, he just lets them spill directly from his brain.

eddie looks at him for a few seconds as he thinks.

“well, if tomorrow isn’t as good as today, we’ll still get through it, we’ll still try with meal times, and we’ll still go to bed just like this.” eddie says like it’s the most simple thing in the world.

steve makes a slightly confused noise. how does that answer his question?

“baby, all you can do is keep going for me. you’re gonna have good days, and bad days, and in between days. and i’m gonna be here for all of them, okay? i’m proud of you every day for different things.”

steve looks away from his boyfriend.

“it’s scary to not know.. i want this to be.. over. i miss enjoying food all the time.”

eddie gently reaches out and lays a hand on steve’s cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

“i know. we’re a team though, right? today was good, and instead of being scared tomorrow will be bad, let’s try and be hopeful it’ll be good again.” he says.

steve lets himself be guided back to looking at eddie’s face, and sees a wholly earnest expression there. he nods, takes a deep breath, and offers a smile.

he can try this whole hopeful thing.

#me but if i wasnt scared to jinx things by having hopeful thoughts 💀#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #autistic steve harrington #steddie drabble #mywriting #cw disordered eating

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: Thanks for being patient! I know this one took longer than the other two, but yeah. Back pain is no joke, and also, as you can see, this became somewhat of a monolith lol. This whole fic is my most favourite thing to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Also, apologies for the horrific photoshop job I did trying to recreate a certain social media layout, lol.

The first few weeks of living with Ralph are certainly… An experience. You’re able to teach him how to cook basic freezer meals, how to use a hob and the importance of never taking your attention away from food when you’re preparing it. He’s got his favourite TV shows, especially now that you’ve trusted him with access to your streaming services, too - though you did have to make him a separate profile on your account when your current obsession had been drowned out in your Continue Watching queue by Ralph watching half an hour of whatever was showing up first, giving up and moving onto the next thing. He’s got a rapport as “that eccentric young man who lives in flat 912”, who befriends all the local outdoor cats and bows to everyone he makes eye contact with. Plus, with all the extra attention Ralph gives them while you’re not there, your plants have been thriving more than ever.

Another morning of waking up on the sofa. You reach blindly for the pain relief and water bottle you now keep close to you and chug them down before peeling yourself away. At least today is a day off. Except it isn’t really, as you’re reminded when you hear the shower going. You’re still a full-time Ralph-sitter. You decide to treat the pair of you to a full breakfast, something that your new housemate had considered “grotesque” as “grease is not a food group”, but you’d acclimated him to it eventually. As long as you cut him some bread soldiers to dip into the yolks of his eggs. That’s his favourite part.

You scroll through Spotify on your phone to see what playlist you’ll ask your Echo to play for you. It recommends, based on your recent listening (by which it obviously means the battle your algorithm faces trying to find common ground between your music taste and Ralph’s), an electro-swing playlist. Excited, you ask Alexa to play the playlist as it’s titled, and start bouncing along to it as you get everything out to start cooking.

Ralph emerges, hair still wet, with a smile on his face. “Good morning!” You understand and appreciate his efforts to try and blend in a little more aesthetically, but arguably the worst thing your friends have convinced Ralph is that he looks better with a bit of facial hair. Which, of course, is true, but that’s what makes it so terrible for you. “What is this?!”

You shrug, “Dunno, it said electro-swing and I figured that sounds like the perfect mix of both of us. You like it?”

Ralph nods, “I mean, it’s certainly not the classics, but I could definitely get used to this!” He starts moving his feet in very deliberate ways, and you smirk at him.

“Did you ever learn how to swing dance, by any chance?”

“Guilty!” he lilts, rolling his eyes up. No matter how much he may try to look like a 21st century man, he’s still unmistakably Ralph. “Yes, Mother got Victoria and I enrolled in a school to get us out of the house. Father wanted me to join some new-fangled group, the Scouts?” You’d think you’d be used to all the culture shocks by now, but hearing that Ralph could have been one of the first ever Scouts still knocks the wind out of you a little. Ralph, completely unaware, continues rambling, “Yes, but it was all… Swimming and climbing and… Outdoor survival,” he shudders. “So, Mother sent me away with Victoria to her dance classes.”

“Were you any good? Or did you enjoy it, at least?” you ask.

Ralph smiles as his head bobs with excitement, “I was rather exemplary, yes! Ms Lillian often paired Victoria and I together, knowing we could practise at home as well, though when we got to a… Certain age, Victoria decided she would rather have other male partners.” You can tell from the sadness in Ralph’s tone what he’s about to say next. “And, well, she was on such good terms with the other girls in the group that… Well, none of them wanted to be paired with little brother Ralph, so the teacher was my partner. ‘Little brother’, I ask you, only by twelve minutes!” he starts to mutter under his breath.

An urge swells within you to find Homeless Pete, insist he find a way to fix that time machine up as soon as possible, and travel back to that time just to shove every one of those rich little brats. Instead, you focus that energy on comforting Ralph, reaching your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug. “I’m sorry, mate. Though, I don’t suppose you remember those moves you learned?”

His eyes light up. “I certainly do! Did you want to learn how to? The teacher did say I was quite the natural, I could teach you if you wanted!”

You grin, “I’d love nothing more.”

You spend the best part of an hour learning how to do things like the Charleston Step, the bow tie and the one that Ralph calls one turns, two turns, which you can tell is his favourite based on the smile he gets when it’s his turn to get twirled around.

Eventually, you heave with exhaustion. “Well, that’s worked up the old appetite, though I dunno how I’m gonna cook when I can barely feel my legs!”

Ralph giggles, “Oh, please, that was nothing! Ms Lillian would have you in tatters.” You give him a death stare and he stops laughing immediately. “Would you like me to get us something from the baker’s? I could get you some of those doughed nuts that you enjoy.”

“For the last time, Ralph, doughnuts don’t actually contain nuts and you can have some yourself, too!” you groan as you start replacing everything you’d taken out of the fridge.

Ralph tuts, shaking his head. “I have no interest in your nuts, thank you.” That’s one to send to Scott and Connor later, you think to yourself as you open up your phone and add to the note “Ralph Quotes”. “Perhaps the nice old lady who calls me chap will be there,” he muses with a small smile, “I like her.”

“Hop to it, then, old sport,” you say in a mock-posh voice, earning you a glare from Ralph, which only makes you laugh as you make your own way to the shower.

When you’re out and dressed for the day - in the clothes Ralph had worn on his first night with you, but only because they’re your go-to comfort clothes anyway and you don’t exactly plan on leaving the flat - you go through your usual routine of checking the news app for the headlines, and then the trending topics on Twitter, just to see if there’s anything your friends will be talking about.

You giggle at the fact that the name Ralph is trending, screenshotting it to send to the group chat later. Out of curiosity as to which Ralph the internet is obsessing over today, you tap it and scroll through. It’s mostly people in fandoms, making threads called ‘[series] as ralph tweets’. The “ralph tweets” in question seem to be of someone tweeting as though they think Twitter works in the same way as Google.

Your stomach drops as you realise some of them look a little too familiar. Almost as though you know a Ralph who’d be this far out of touch with the modern world. Almost as though you could track the very conversations that would lead to some of these to that particular Ralph.

You click through to the profile @RalphOnTwitter and scroll all the way down to see exactly when he must have gotten an account:

You send a single message in the group chat: GROUP MEETING, MY FLAT, ASAP. ALL MUST ATTEND.

Your friends all arrive relatively quickly after that. You simply herd them all onto the sofa one by one until the last of them has arrived, but just as you’re about to lay into them, the man of the hour arrives, having fumbled with the lock for a good minute with his arms full of baked goods.

“Ah, good morning, all! It’s a good job you’re all here, it was that young woman serving today and she always gives me extra food even though I don’t ask for it or pay for it, I don’t know why -”

“It’s ‘cause she fancies you, mate,” Connor grins, causing Ralph’s ears to turn a vibrant shade of red.

“Can we please discuss Ralph’s love life another time?!” you interrupt. “I need to know which of you is responsible for giving him access to a Twitter account.”

You know Anna’s in the clear, you’d been helping her in the kitchen, but the other three look at each other shiftily. “Well, it was sort of all of us? We just thought it might be fun to teach him,” Grace explains. “It’s not often you meet someone who’s never heard of social media.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ralph,” you call out, eyes still closed, “what do you do when you need to know the answer to something?”

“I do what you taught me when you first gave me my phone,” Ralph answers, perplexed. “I tap the very last square, I type in my question and I wait for an answer. A lot of them are just people being rude, but eventually someone will be helpful.”

“Sounds about right,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“Wait, you mean, you still do that even after we put - you didn’t think to just move one to the -” Scott’s eyes widen. “Oh, god.”

“Why would it move?!” Ralph asks, taking a bite out of his favourite pastry and chewing anxiously.

Anna starts giggling as she scrolls through his account, “Aww, but it’s so funny! And it’s not hurting anyone, what’s the damage in it?”

The fact he’s not supposed to be alive and yet he’s suddenly very much perceived, maybe? The fact he could accidentally tweet something that would give him away? The fact he could tweet something vastly inappropriate at any moment?

“Yeah, you could really capitalise on him while he’s here,” Connor smirks. “Get him on Instagram, too, get those brand deals coming.”

“Yeah! Ralph On Twitter’s face reveal, make it a whole thing,” Grace grins.

You sigh. “I dunno. It feels like a really bad idea.” You look at Ralph, who looks blankly back at you. “But… Maybe we could make something of you. As long as I’m your PR manager, obviously, and you don’t go talking directly to anyone.”

“I don’t think I know how,” Ralph shakes his head, “I thought it was the searching thing that you’d told me about.”

“Good. Never learn,” you point at him, “and give me your phone.” Your friends all cheer as they crowd around you, watching you download Instagram onto his phone, as well. You give him the handle @ralphoninsta “to keep the brand alive,” you explain as you set up his profile.

“Now we need a good first photo,” Scott holds his fingers and thumbs up in a rectangle shape to frame Ralph in his own field of vision. “Let’s get him into some good lighting.”

Sitting him in the best-lit corner of the flat, Scott insists on playing photographer, telling Ralph to sit and smile. However, Ralph does not seem to do well in front of the camera. He sits bolt upright, every part of him looking stiff and uncomfortable, and his smile isn’t right. It’s far too forced, it shows all his teeth and yet somehow the smile itself stretches beyond them. “Maybe we should take him out and about, get some candid shots of him,” Anna suggests.

You groan, having just started on your second doughnut. “Fine! I’ll leave the house today, but I won’t be pleased about it!” You shake your half-eaten breakfast at your friends, who laugh. “And you guys better come eat these, too, Ralph wasn’t kidding about these freebies.” You hold out another doughnut and wave it in Ralph’s direction, “Sure I can’t tempt you with one?”

He leaps onto his feet and backs away from you, “How many times must I ask you to keep your doughed nuts out of my face, please!” As expected, Scott and Connor crease up in laughter.

“You’ll love ‘em when you try ‘em, Ralphie,” you grin, taking another bite of your own, but Ralph isn’t as amused by it all.

Once you’re all adequately full, you begrudgingly throw on a hoodie and go out with everyone else, trying to find the right lighting, the right backdrop. Even with everything, Ralph just doesn’t seem to pose very well. His posture becomes so much more awkward and his facial expressions just aren’t… Ralph.

When he starts to express his apathy for the whole thing, you think of one more thing that might help. Standing him in front of a brick wall, you position Scott and set his phone camera to video, earning you an, “Ahh, good shout.”

Scott starts recording as Ralph stands in place, looking over at all of you. “So, what is it I’m supposed to do, now? Do I have to pose again? How?”

You shrug, “I dunno, just… Be Ralph. Stand however you want. Look however you want. Just, keep it moving around, yeah?”

He may still look a little awkward but you’re able to get him to do plenty, at least. Getting him comfortable is easy enough, you start getting him talking about his new favourite TV programmes and he very vaguely - and mostly not entirely correctly - describes the plots of them, with all the excited sincerity of a lifelong fan. Grace also asks him about his favourite local cats he’s befriended whenever he’s been out and about, which he lists happily and extensively.

When Scott feels as though he’s got some good angles, he stops recording and you all crowd around him to review the footage together. While you all have different opinions on which angles are best, you can all agree on one thing - Ralph certainly photographs far, far better candidly. You all eventually settle on pausing and screenshotting at two specific moments, though Ralph is still perplexed. “But I’m not posed for either of those pictures, doesn’t that make them bad? I mean, I’m not even looking in that second one!” He points to a shot where he’s looking down, itching his jaw.

“No, trust me, it’s fine, they’re great,” you insist, maybe a little too quickly. Nobody seems to have noticed, though. Thankfully.

“And in this one, the sun is in my eyes! I’m all squinty!” He frowns, swiping to the previous shot.

“That’s called a smoulder, babes, everyone loves a smoulder.” You watch in amusement as Ralph’s ears turn pink at Grace’s words. No matter how many times you’ve told him that Grace calls everyone by that name, it still gets Ralph all nervous to be referred to by it himself. “You’re a natural, when you’re not actually trying.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ralph asks, his eyes darting around the group to gauge everyone’s reactions.

Anna nods, “It shows promise, right, Scott? Scott’s big into his photography shit, he’s got a proper camera and everything, don’t you?”

Scott nods. “If you ever wanted to try and get more comfortable with it, we could definitely shoot together sometime.”

Ralph shuffles over to you to whisper in your ear, “What do guns have to do with -”

You interrupt him to quietly explain, “You shoot photos on a camera.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Addressing Scott, he smiles and claps, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “If I am still around, I should rather enjoy that!”

“Fuck, I forgot we’ve only got you on borrowed time,” Anna complains, before gasping and clapping her hands, addressing you. “This is your weekend off, right?!” You nod, and she squeals, holding her face in her hands. “So, we have to show Ralph what a good night out is, right?!”

Excited reactions from the entire group, except one, obviously, but the others seem too keen on planning tonight now to respond to any of his reactions. “So, do we just take him out, or out-out?” Connor asks.

You look over at Ralph’s face, trying not to laugh too loudly at him looking as though he’s been asked to solve quantum equations in his head. “You trying to figure out the difference there, mate?” you ask, and he nods. “Right, so going out usually means just to the local pub, pretty casual attire, you say you’re only going for a couple of beers but then it’s approaching midnight, the poor sod behind the bar is calling last orders and you’re five deep, trying to gather everyone for the walk home where you drop them all off one by one. Going out-out is dressing up, it’s going into the city itself, it’s going to bars and nightclubs and getting super overpriced cocktails until it’s 3am and you’re sat outside a McDonald’s waiting for a taxi home with whichever stragglers you’ve managed to hold onto by the end of the night.”

“Dressing up, you say?!” Ralph lights up at the idea, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Not in the suit and tie way, I’m afraid.” You frown, “I don’t actually know if we’ve got any out-out clothes for you at home, you know. I haven’t had a chance to get you to any shops where you can try nice clothes on yourself.”

With a collective gasp, Grace and Anna each loop an arm around each of Ralph’s, with Scott joining in their chorus of, “Shopping trip?!”

You groan, “Can I at least go back and get changed if you’re gonna keep making me leave the house?”

“I mean, you don’t have to come with us, if you want a break,” Anna suggests. “You trust us with Ralph, right?”

“So what, just the four of you will be going, then?” Connor asks, to the others’ groans. “Oh, come off it, what use would I be?!”

“Connor,” Anna starts. “How often are we ever likely to ask you for your opinion as a straight man again? You need to come with, for your people.”

Connor sighs in resignation, though he can’t fight his own smile. “Alright, fine, but you lot are buying all the coffees I’m gonna need to get through this.”

You slip Ralph your bank card, mutter to him that the others will teach him how to use it, and salute the others as they all make their way to the high street before turning on your heel and heading back to the sanctuary of an empty flat.

Straight away, it feels too empty. Too quiet. Sure, you’ve trusted Ralph to just pop across the road and back, but you’ve got way more alone time now. You ask your Echo to play your favourite playlist as you make a start on the chores you normally can’t do with Ralph around.

Though you expect that to take up until they return, you’re done before the hour is up. You let out a long exhale, tutting through it as you look around your little living space and wonder what on earth to do with yourself. You start watching the next episode of the show you’d been watching, but even that didn’t feel right without the constant interjections, feeling as though you have to explain who characters are, what plots have already happened and why certain scenes are especially important.

You text the group chat a few times, but only Connor ever responds, and as is on brand for him, it’s always a sarcastic comment about how Ralph is obviously going to show up in the most garish outfits known to man. You take comfort in Connor being the one to make those jokes, at least, as if anyone else were to, you might be more inclined to worry that Ralph’s own tastes might just be a little too eclectic for the South London nightlife. At least Connor will be there to talk him down into dressing somewhat appropriately.

You also ask Scott to send you the photos for Ralph’s Instagram profile, telling him you’re happy to edit them to pass the time before eventually getting them onto Ralph’s phone to upload them. He sends you the screenshots, along with the video itself. One little watch, you tell yourself. Then to editing.

An indeterminable amount of time later, you’re replaying a part where you’re constantly correcting Ralph on the actual plot of Gilmore Girls versus what he seems to have retained that it’s about, where you’ve reached the point of uncontrollable laughter and he’s laughing at your laughter. His smile is so pure when he’s genuinely happy, and yet it’s so rare to see it that way. Even without his manufactured pose, when he’s smiling amongst you and your friends it still feels stilted. You often wonder whether he misses the familiarity of home, whether you’re doing a good enough job at helping Ralph to fit in. But seeing that look on his face, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s the first time you’ve been able to really notice him looking comfortable. You take a screenshot of that moment, but not necessarily to add to Ralph’s profile. Maybe this one stays as a memento of Ralph’s time here, just for you.

When you get the text in the group chat letting you know that a) they’re finished, and b) everyone’s getting ready at Grace’s since her housemates are all out for the evening, you hurriedly edit those two photos Scott sent, empty your wardrobe of all your “out-out” clothes into a duffel bag, throw in whatever toiletries and cosmetics you can find and make your way over there.

Scott, Anna and Ralph are nowhere to be found, at first, but Grace assures you that they’re simply helping him “look the part”. You’re more worried about checking in with Ralph, seeing if he’s overwhelmed at all, and most importantly, making sure he hasn’t blown his cover.

Grace is more than happy to help you pick out your outfit for the night, while Connor’s input remains a constant and totally helpful series of grunts without even looking up from his phone. Grace helps you get your face and hair ready, too, though not without scolding Connor for not participating either way, despite his constant rebuttals that he is taking care of “the most important thing”. You quickly shoot him a text thanking him for helping to take Ralph off your hands for an afternoon, and reassuring him you’ll buy him a drink to show your appreciation. The absolute wordsmith that he is, Connor sends a thumbs-up emoji in response.

There’s a ring at the doorbell, which even Grace is puzzled at. That fills you with a sense of concern, too - if Grace isn’t expecting someone at her door, who could it be? Connor seems pretty confident at going to open it, though, and you see why when he eventually shows up with the pizzas that he clearly ordered. “You didn’t have to be so cryptic about it!” You shake your head at him as you make sure everyone has drinks made up as well.

Scott’s head pokes out of a door to ask, “Everything okay? Who was at the door?” You and Connor both point to the food and Scott grins, “Ah, nice! Right on time! Okay, folks, are you ready to meet The New Ralph?”

The three of you clap and cheer as Scott and Anna make a big show of revealing Ralph, and thankfully you weren’t holding any of the glasses you were making drinks in, or you’d have surely dropped them. Wearing a dark fitted polo, very well-fitting jeans and some crisp new Adidas trainers, Ralph stands between your friends, looking around at the three of you. When he catches your eye, he only makes very fleeting eye contact before looking your own outfit up and down and then hastily looking back at the others. He rubs at the tops of his ears - you can’t quite see from this distance, but you wonder if he’s blushing, and whether he’s doing it over everyone’s reaction, or just yours.

You set everyone’s drinks up around the living room, deliberately seating you and Ralph together. “I wasn’t sure what kind of fancy-schmancy drinks you’re used to, and none of us exactly have champagne on tap, but I thought you might like a martini?” You say to him as he takes his seat on the sofa next to you.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “I do rather enjoy a martini!”

“That’s my guy!” Connor cheers from his corner, raising a slice of pizza in a toast of sorts. Ralph tentatively takes a slice and does the same, but you hurriedly follow it up by grabbing a plate and holding it beneath Ralph’s slice for him.

“Don’t want to ruin your nice outfit before you’ve even been seen out in it, do you?” You fuss, and Ralph nods, taking the plate from you and holding it directly under his chin as he eats, which makes you laugh. He could literally look like anyone in the world, but little mannerisms like that will always tell you that that’s your Ralph.

When he’s had enough to eat, you take the plate from him to take it out to the kitchen, though Grace is quick to whip it out of your hands, too. That’s when you notice the plate seems to have moved something underneath the collar of Ralph’s shirt. You move it aside slightly and, with all the might of keeping any kind of flustering behaviour at bay, you ask, “Is that a neck chain you’re wearing?” Is this what manifesting is?

“Yes! Do you like it?” Ralph scoops it out into view with his finger. “Just a plain one, but Anna said it really brought the whole outfit together, didn’t you?” He asks her excitedly, and she nods back.

“She’s got a good eye, that one,” you grin. “You look so good, Ralph.”

“As do you,” he mutters, gesturing quickly to your outfit. “I see what you mean about dressing to the nines, now. It’s nice to see this side of you, too. All of you, really,” he stammers, looking around.

“Right, last minute hair and make-up touches and then I want photos of all of us!” Grace announces.

Ralph’s face falls as he asks you quietly, “Would you like to teach me how to take them, since I’m not good at being in them?”

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him. “We’ll get some good ones of you tonight, trust me. And if you wanna see a bad photo, wait until you see the atrocities this lot take by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We’ll prepare a slideshow of your finest moments for him, shall we?” Scott retorts, to both yours and Ralph’s laughter.

“Maybe we should save that for a special occasion. A birthday, perhaps?” Ralph asks with amusement.

“Yes, Ralph!” Connor and Scott cheer in unison, both slapping his shoulders excitedly as you gasp in mock offence.

“The betrayal!” You can’t actually be mad at Ralph, though, not with how good he looks when he’s this happy. It’s even more captivating in person.

You shake your head as you go to make sure you’re all freshened up after your meal. You can’t keep thinking these things when you’re sober, or else who knows how that’ll manifest when you’re less so.

Your friends all love learning how to get Ralph distracted enough that he doesn’t even realise half the time that his photo is being taken. Scott, being the photography setup genius that he is, even gets his phone out, sets it on a timer, and manages to get Ralph laughing while looking at the camera, in the middle of the group, all while successfully running into the shot himself. Everyone’s in love with that photo, even Ralph, and when Scott sends it in the group chat, you promise him you’ll print one for the flat, and an extra one just for his room.

“What about the other ones that everyone else took?” Ralph asks. “Could I get those ones on my phone, too?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Ooh, speaking of! Before we go! Gimme, gimme,” you make a grabby hand at Ralph, who eventually takes the hint that you want his phone as he hands it to you. You send over the two edited shots - and that’s all - and, on his phone, successfully upload them:

“No caption?” Anna asks, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, it’d look a bit dodge if he’s tweeting to ask his phone to stop changing his words for him, but then he’s a total whiz at Instagram, wouldn’t it?” You explain, to everyone’s agreement.

Finally, you’re all piled into an Uber and on your way to your favourite bar. It’s in the car, cramped between you and the door, that Ralph realises something in a panic. Frantically tapping your arm, he whispers, “Won’t they ask me to prove I’m of age to drink there?”

You shake your head. “Don’t sweat it. The staff know us like the backs of their hands, they’ll trust us that we’re not bringing in some teenager. Besides, you look far less baby-faced now,” you wrestle your arm out enough to ruffle the beard he’s starting to grow with your fingertips. “So we’ll be fine. Promise.”

Ralph, too, wrangles a hand out to hold his little finger towards you. “Promise?”

With a small laugh, you link your own with his. “Yes, but less of that around the people we have to convince that you’re not a kid, okay?” Ralph nods with a very serious expression, and you copy him before settling back into conversation with your friends.

It takes a few bats of the group’s eyelids and some convincing c’mon, mates but the bouncer soon lets Ralph in with you all, to which he enthusiastically thanks them over and over again. You hurriedly rush him in ahead of you before he arouses too much suspicion.

Connor makes a point of letting Ralph know where the toilets are, and Ralph immediately disappears off into that direction. You ask the boys if one of them should make sure he’s okay getting there, but everyone scolds you for fussing over him too much and moves you along with the rest of them to order everyone’s drinks. You want to hold onto Ralph’s for him but, as Scott reminds you, it’s safer for him to, so that you can look after your own. Just in case.

Soon enough, as with every night out, the group starts to scatter. Scott is happily chatting between Connor and a girl you don’t recognise, most likely playing wingman. You can spot Anna and Grace in amidst a small group of people whose heads are turned away from you. Still no sign of Ralph for a while. Ringing his phone does nothing, but the music is quite loud, he might not be able to hear. The bar is small enough, you tell yourself. He’ll find you eventually.

As you’re craning your head around the bar one more time, you don’t realise anyone is in your immediate vicinity until you almost trip over someone behind you. They catch you with a, “Whoa, easy there! How many have you had?!”

“Barely any, that’s the scary thing!” You laugh.

The man smiles at you. “Sounds like I ought to buy you one then, eh?”

You shrug, “Sure, what’s a free drink?” You gesture that you’ll walk up to the bar with him and order your drink. He tries to make small conversation, and you start to get into it a little, until he starts trying to flirt. He’s not exactly your type, anyway, and his total lack of game really doesn’t help matters. You try and get away with a simple thank you, a promise that you’ll find him later to buy him one back but you really must get back to your friends.

“Ah, what’s the rush? Surely it’s easier for them to come and find you if we stay here, right?” He asks. You look around desperately, trying with all your might to use some of that manifesting power you seemed to have earlier to will one of the boys back, both to rescue you and salvage Ralph.

~~~

Ralph was having quite the experience. Having heard the other boys talk of the bathroom, he assumed that was a prompt for everyone to go, but only once he could see the door to it did Ralph turn around and realise he was completely on his own. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. What seemed dimly lit now appears almost pitch black. There are lights of all colours shining everywhere. Music that doesn’t quite sound like music thumps in the background. Twenty conversations happening around him turn into white noise, until someone approaches him. A total stranger. Two of them, actually.

“Alright, mate? Do me a favour?” One asks, despite Ralph’s expression clearly being one that should let anyone know that he is in no position to be giving out any favours. They continue anyway, “Look, I have to draw something, and you have to guess what it is, okay?” Ralph, still bewildered, does not respond in the slightest, but before he knows it, the other person has turned around so that their back can be used as a surface. The original asker now splays a napkin of sorts against their friend’s back as they try and draw something.

Ralph tries his absolute hardest, but as no amount of squinting and focusing can help him, he tells them, “Oh bother, I’m terribly sorry, chaps, I’m honestly trying but I’m really coming up trumps, I do apologise.”

They give him looks of confusion and concern. “Are you on something?”

“Why does everybody assume that of me, just because I’m ever so slightly more well spoken than the average resident here?!” Ralph complains with a frown. “Can this not just be how I talk?”

“Oh my days, you’re a right laugh,” the other grins. “Here, come and do a shot with us, you have to!”

“I- Do I?” Ralph asks, and they nod. “Well, I really should get back to my friends -”

“Oh, c’mon, one shot and we’ll help you find them. Deal?” They ask.

“Well… Alright,” Ralph sighs in defeat. If he can’t find you, he can at least find a constant to anchor onto in the meantime.

“Oi, lads!” The two call out as they approach the table they’re leading Ralph to. “Time out on that game for a minute, we’re doing shots with this legend!” They both look at Ralph expectantly, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Oh! Yes! Hello, everyone. My name is Ralph. Fabulous to meet you all,” he smiles as he looks around the table.

“Isn’t he sick?!” The artist of the pair grins at his friends.

“Quite the picture of health, actually,” Ralph retorts with a side glance.

“Oh, isn’t he a cutie,” a girl coos from the table. The other of the pair starts to clench his jaw.

“Oi, come off it,” another comforts from around the table. “Any bloke that uses the word fabulous isn’t exactly stealing your girlfriend, is he.”

Ralph’s not even sure how to answer to that, but he isn’t given much time to, either, before being whisked away to the bar with this new group. They hand him a tiny glass filled with clear liquid. Ralph wonders if a shot is perhaps some sort of palate cleanser, a mouthful of water between drinks.

The fiery sensation that travels down his throat as he drinks teaches him that it certainly is not. But once the unpleasantness clears, the strange comfort of alcohol starts to fill Ralph with warmth. It’s certainly happening a lot faster than he’s used to, but then these drinks are far stronger than Ralph’s usual tastes.

Briefly forgetting his own arrangement, he returns from the bar with his new acquaintances - and another martini in hand - and sits back at the table with them as they continue playing their game. It’s played on one of their phones. Someone taps through prompts and reads them aloud. Sometimes it’s challenging a player to do something themselves, sometimes it’s challenging them to approach a stranger, as they had done with Ralph. Sometimes it’s asking them completely arbitrary questions to vote upon amongst the group. They all certainly seem to be having a great time playing, anyway.

Once they declare a round over, they ask Ralph if he wants to join in the next one. “Oh, I’m rather… Old-fashioned, I don’t think I’d be a good fit for this, but I’m sure my friends would love it! Shall I go and find them?”

“More the merrier,” one shrugs.

Ralph excitedly jumps up and starts patrolling the bar to find a familiar face amongst the crowd. He’s yet to see any at all, until one makes his heart drop. He sees you, in the arms of another man. Ralph had really been priding himself on repressing his feelings around you. He wasn’t going to repeat what happened with Lauren. He wasn’t going to scare you off too soon. He was going to keep it to himself. He had tried so hard. And yet, this sight is truly unbearable.

Biting at his quivering lower lip, he storms back into the direction of the bathrooms and keeps going, shoving the first door he finds open as he tries not to cry.

His sorrow is quickly replaced with horror as he finds several women all standing in various places around the room. Some just standing and chatting, some calling to friends in the stalls, some checking themselves in the mirror. After the scene finally sets in for Ralph, he lets out an ultimately high-pitched shriek, swivels around and immediately starts scolding himself. “Oh, bother and blast! Please, forgive me, girls, oh, what an absolute cad I am, I’ve truly disgraced myself, just when it couldn’t get any worse!” His voice gets shakier with every word, and he flinches when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” One of the girls apologises hurriedly. “I just wanted to let you know it’s okay. Are you alright?”

“Please do not ask me if I have taken any sort of drug just because I am well-spoken!” Ralph half-cries, and the hand squeezes him comfortingly.

“We won’t, promise. Did you need a wee, or just a wind down?”

“I’m not sure, I just… Ran. I’m terribly sorry,” Ralph sighs.

“It’s fine,” the voice reassures. “Wanna turn around and talk to us? I promise, there’s no better therapy than a night in the girls’ loos. Right?” A chorus of agreement fills the room.

Ralph slowly turns around to see an awful lot of smiling faces. He sniffs harshly and nods, “Good evening.”

“Hi!” The one who had approached him smiles. “I’m Lauren!”

Of all the names! “L-Lauren?” Ralph practically squeaks out as he feels himself start to well up, and her own face falls in some kind of realisation as she shakes her head.

“Or Loz! Just call me Loz! All my friends do! Forget the other name entirely. Sound good?”

Ralph nods. “I’m Ralph. A pleasure to meet you, despite it being under my most horrific actions.”

The other girls introduce themselves, as well. “So, Ralph, this, uh… Girl With The Forbidden Name, is she why you’re all upset?”

“Is she?” One pipes up from the very back. “Because you point her out and I’ll sort her out, no holds barred.”

“See, this is what I tell you, you get like two vodka red bulls down you and you’re ready to throw hands at any inconvenience,” her friend groans next to her. Ralph very quickly taps the square with the bird on it and types a message out to ask the internet “why do people throw hands at each other”, quickly followed by “what sort of hands do people throw”. He decides he’ll check people’s answers later, so as not to appear rude.

“Look at him, though!” The more hot-headed one gestures to Ralph as he wipes away the tears that had been threatening to fall. “Look at those eyes! Like melted chocolate, they are. What kinda sadist would possibly make that happen?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s all futile,” Ralph shakes his head, but his new friend Loz points at him.

“Oi. Nothing’s futile here. This is a safe space. Let it out.”

Ralph starts to explain that he had fallen for a Lauren, dove in headfirst, had his heart broken and vowed not to let it happen again, but that seeing the housemate he cared so deeply for in the arms of another just brought all of that sadness back up again. The girls are all very sympathetic, and very good at knowing exactly what to say to make Ralph feel better. The rather boisterous one keeps trying to speak negatively of you, but Ralph won’t have any of that. You’re your own person, and it’s up to Ralph to get over his own feelings. The girls commend him on his emotional maturity. Apparently not a lot of men have that.

They ask if he wants to talk it through with you, but he shakes his head, telling them that he isn’t certain how long it is before he can go home again, and so he doesn’t want to commit to anything or risk either staying with you with such an emotionally charged elephant in the room at all times, or being turfed out indefinitely.

"That's quite the predicament you've got yourself in, Ralphie, babes," Loz hugs him arm, and he allows himself the comfort of leaning against her.

Suddenly, a stall door swings open violently, and a whole new girl appears, holding her phone up to her face. Before anyone else can ask if she's okay, she gasps loudly, "I bloody knew it!"

Everyone looks at her quizzically, including Ralph, and she continues. "Well, I thought, guy called Ralph who sounds really old-fashioned, I wonder if… And then some of the things he's said kind of sounded like those tweets, have any of you seen that Ralph On Twitter guy?"

A few more gasps of realisation dot about the room. Ralph's ears turn pink as he recognises the word Twitter from the conversation you’d had with the other four this morning. Loz frowns, "Are you sure it's -"

"Is this your insta?" She turns her phone around to show Ralph her screen. It says Instagram on the top, so Ralph takes out his phone and presses the square that also says that, showing it around to see if that's right. Excitedly, all the girls crowd around to make sure they get Ralph's handle right so they can follow him.

One girl - Ralph's already lost track of them, honestly - announces, "So what I'm hearing is, girls' room photoshoot with Ralph from Twitter?!"

Ralph laughs nervously, "Oh goodness, I'm flattered, but those are all taken candidly, would you believe! I am certainly no poser, I have been told this enough times today already."

"Bollocks to that!" The loud one shouts. "We'll teach you how, won't we, girls?"

Before Ralph knows it, he's squatting amongst all his new friends who are trying to teach him how to do the smoulder look he was doing in his photo on purpose when the main door opens to reveal you standing there, looking absolutely bewildered. "Oh my god, Ralph! You're okay! Thank fuck for that!"

As you frantically update the group chat that you’ve found Ralph safe and well, Loz reaches for his hand to squeeze it. The loud girl starts to tense up behind him but Loz waves her down from behind his back. “Yeah, he’s just been having some drunk girl therapy,” she explains calmly.

“God, I could do with some of that right now,” you groan. “Honestly, you trip and fall onto a guy one time and he thinks you’re soulmates, it’s horrendous!”

Ralph’s face lights up all of a sudden. “You’d… You’d fallen on him?” Concern falls back onto his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, physically, I’m fine, but I don’t know how I’m going to mentally recover from listening to one man talk about himself so much,” you groan into your hands as you hold your face. “I forgot why I stopped dating in London.” You notice that one of the girls puts her arm down after having held her phone up at a particular angle. “Oh my god, wait, you guys were taking photos together?” A few of them nod. “Would you like me to take them for you? Rather than one of you trying to fit everyone in at arm’s length.”

“Oh my god, would you?” one of them sighs with relief.

You nod, gesturing to Ralph to hand you his phone again.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the presence of so many other people in the photo with him, but Ralph blends in so much more naturally in the photos you take now, even when you suggest different poses and expressions. One of them - Ralph quickly introduces her as Loz, and no other name - asks around for phone numbers of the girls that, you assume, had all just met and bonded over whatever Ralph was in here for. You take over the role of adding everyone’s numbers into Ralph’s phone, and see that Loz adds him to a group chat that she names “Ralphie’s Angels”. You laugh at the name, and send all the photos you’ve taken into the group chat.

“Right, I can feel myself sobering up now, and we can’t have that,” one of them calls out, making the rest of you laugh. “Shall we all go and face the music?”

You pull a face, “Ugh, that means I have to go back and face… Him.”

“Nah, you stick with us, hun,” the one who seemed hostile with you at first suddenly seems to be fighting your corner now. “He even looks in your direction when I’m around, I’ll make him wish he didn’t.” You give her a comforted smile in response and the whole horde starts making its way out of the bathroom.

Your friends also catch up with you at the bar, grateful to see Ralph’s face again, too. Grace is hanging off some new guy’s arm, Anna is half-present in the whole conversation but also half-texting somebody, and Scott is catching up with Ralph. You spot that Connor isn’t talking to anyone and head over to him, “What are you drinking?” you ask loudly over all the music. “I still owe you, remember!”

Connor shakes his head, “Nah, don’t sweat it. Ralph’s a good’un, it was no bother.” Speak of the devil, Ralph excitedly hands you and Connor drinks that one of his new friends insists on buying for everyone, then grabs his own glass from Scott who’s followed him to clink against yours and Connor’s before hurriedly rejoining his group. You and your friends laugh in unison before Connor downs his martini, gives you a quick hug and heads home for the night. Grace and her new friend are the next to leave - you never did catch his name, and you’re not sure you’ll have a reason to remember it anyway.

You dismiss Anna and Scott, telling them that Ralph will probably be a while yet, and that they don’t have to wait up for him just because you do. At first they insist on staying with you, but eventually tiredness consumes them both and they bid you goodnight.

As though preying from afar - because that’s most likely what he was doing - your admirer from earlier appears as soon as your friends are out of the door. “Well, well, we meet again.”

Your eyes narrow as you groan out a breath. “Yeah, hi -”

“I can’t believe your friends would leave you alone like that,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, they haven’t, I’m still waiting on -” Your knight in 21st century armour, Ralph, walks over to the pair of you. “Ah, there he is! Are we going home now?”

“Would you like to?” Ralph asks, concern in his eyes, and you nod with fervour. “Then yes!”

The other man pulls a face. “Wait, sorry, you’re going home with - who the fuck is this?!” He gestures at Ralph, a nasty expression on his face.

Thankfully, Ralph’s cavalry come to your defence, led by none other than an incredibly loud, “Oi, dickhead! Who the fuck are you?! Fucking look at my friend like that again, see what happens, yeah?” Despite being perhaps half a foot shorter, Ralph’s most fiery friend easily squares up against him.

You tap her shoulder in thanks, take Ralph’s hand and guide him out of the bar. The cool air outside hits your face, but the alcohol in your system acts as a blanket around the rest of you. “You good?” You ask Ralph, and he nods. “Good. I’ll call for an Uber.”

Ralph frowns, “But aren’t those taxis, parked up over there?”

“Well remembered! Yeah, but a drunk girl once told me that those charge extra for all the time they’ve spent sitting there, and I’ve never felt bougie enough to spend the money to find out if it is true, so I like to play it safe.” You book an Uber that says it’s four minutes away and sit on the edge of the path. Ralph joins you. “Sorry we lost you, earlier, by the way. I did keep trying to look for you.”

“Pah! My own fault, really. I got all frazzled, you know,” Ralph’s eyes widen as he gestures wildly, making you laugh. “I still feel a tad so now!”

“It helps to kind of start resting your head for a bit. Here,” you pat your shoulder and Ralph takes the hint, tucking himself inwards to rest his head on your shoulder. Yours head falls onto his instinctively, and you set your phone to the front camera. You see Ralph’s small, contented smile, quickly plaster one of your own on and snap a photo.

Ralph then frowns, “Oh, no! I wasn’t prepared!”

“Exactly. Look,” you say fondly as you show him the photo. Both of you looking happy and comfortable, despite some bumps in the road. A perfectly normal first night out for Ralph.

“Can you put that one on my phone too, please?” he asks sleepily.

Reluctantly, you push his head away from you. “Yes, but c’mon, sleepyhead. We still have to get home.”

Ralph doesn’t make it the whole journey home, his head once again flopping against yours in the back seat of the taxi as he sleeps. You manage to prod him awake once you’re back outside your block of flats, though, and he trudges along behind you into the lift and along the hallway until you’re back in the safety of the flat again. “Gimme a minute to grab some PJs for the night, yeah?”

“Of course. I think I should use the bathroom properly now,” he nods.

You pull a face, “Yeah, the fact you’ve gone the whole night without it is honestly impressive!” You hear Ralph chuckle under his breath as you go back into your room, blindly head to your pyjama drawer, take out the first top and bottoms that you can feel, regardless of whether or not they match, and head back into the front room, opting to duck beneath the kitchen counter to change.

Ralph re-emerges a few minutes later, his voice drawling wearily as he asks, “Would you like the bed for tonight? I can’t imagine the morning should be pleasant for either of us.”

You walk over to him and put your hand on his shoulder as you chuckle, “It’ll be fine. You probably need it more than I do, that was probably heavier than what you’re used to.”

“I had a shot tonight, you know,” Ralph tells you with intrigue.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, yeah? And how did that go for you?”

“Absolutely awful,” he replies simply, pulling a face of disgust, and you both laugh.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely need the bed, then,” you nod. “Did you have a good time, though?”

“Oh, most certainly!” he grins. “I’ve made so many new friends! And I really rather think I’ve made a good impression on your friends, as well.”

“You know they’re your friends too, right?” you ask, cocking your head. Ralph tries to wave you off, and you pull a face of disbelief. “Come off it, they love you! I bet you had a great time with them earlier, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely! Um, but… I did… Um… It wasn’t quite the same without your presence there,” he mumbles.

You frown, “Did you say anything about your past?”

“Oh, no, that never came up! Just… Oh, ignore me, I’m dreadfully tired,” Ralph rubs his face wearily.

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me for the greasy-ass breakfast I’ll be making us in the morning, so get ready for that,” you grin at him before pulling him in for a goodnight hug. He may smell like a fragrance store with all the proximity he’s had to several perfumed people, but there’s still something comforting about being able to bury your face into his shoulder and taking a deep breath in. Ralph’s arms tighten around you as you do so, as he allows himself the luxury of squeezing his eyes shut and just enjoying the moment.

You eventually pull away with a yawn, “Alright, I think we’re both about to fall asleep standing up, so… Night, Ralph.”

“Y-yes. Of course. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams,” Ralph smiles awkwardly at you before walking quickly to the bedroom.

You set yourself up on the sofa and start looking through the day’s photos. Ralph’s little instagram photoshoot doesn’t feel like it was only this morning, and you can’t help but let yourself fall into the trap of looking at the photo of him laughing again. Shaking your head again, as though that’ll do anything at this point, you scroll through to the photo of all six of you in Grace’s house and set it as your lock screen. You keep scrolling through hurriedly to your other favourite photo of the night, and, while it may be a little delusional, you set the photo of the two of you at the end of the night as your home screen. You’re used to being into people who you can’t have, be it from their disinterest or other reasons, so what’s the harm in indulging yourself a little by imagining a world where the two of you could always be like that?

That’s what Ralph tells himself too as he stares at the photo on his own phone screen until the need for sleep finally takes over.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

Over The Odds | Regrets Pt.2

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - angst, smut, fluff, S2L, ceo!jungkook, sugardaddy!jungkook

Word count - 2.5k

Drabble 12 - Your day goes from bad to worse

warnings: swearing, heated argument,

FULL SERIES COLLECTION

Namjoon: Hey Y/N… Just got to the coffee place and there’s tonnes of paparazzi, do you want to come to my apartment instead? I’ll send the address now [received: 22 minutes ago]

Y/N: I’m outside [sent: 1 minute ago]

Namjoon: Doors open x [received: just now]

Namjoon’s new apartment feels far from new; the furniture, the smell, even the colour scheme is identical to the apartment he had when the two of you were in a relationship. You swallow thickly, somewhat nervous to be alone with him for the first time in years. His living space is small but homely, you make your way through the narrow corridor before eventually finding him in a bright yellow kitchen with oak wooden cabinets and the scent of coffee staining the air.

“Hey,” His dimples show when he turns to face you, a bright smile tugging his features, “Do you still have blonde coffee blend?”

“I do, I can’t believe you remember that.” You smile back, already regretting this decision. You’re going behind Jungkook’s back to have coffee with your ex-boyfriend who may or may not be seeing Jennie – Jungkook’s kind of ex. It’s a complicated situation to say the least.

“I made you a coffee every morning for six months, it’s hard to forget.” He chuckles mostly to himself.

There’s a small white two seater table in front of the window, a vase filled with freshly cut flowers stands in the middle. You take it upon yourself to sit there and take off your leather jacket, draping it over the back of the butter coloured chair. Joon’s clumsily preparing two drinks at the other end of the room, his big hands accidentally spilling the ingredients as he goes along – some things never change.

A dull vibration in your jeans causes you to jump, you quickly glance at the notification when a tidal wave of guilt comes crashing over you:

Jungkook: I can’t wait until tomorrow to see you, are you free tonight?

It’s like he purposely picked the worst moment possible to text, reminding you what you’re doing right now. He’s at the office stressing about work and the police investigation while you’re having a casual coffee date with the one person in the world you know he has a problem with. You’re frowning lightly, lips pursed into a flat line as you type a quick reply, since Namjoon’s too busy cleaning up after himself to notice.

Y/N: What do you have in mind?

Jungkook: Dinner at my place? I’ll even cook for you

A blissful yet amused sigh escapes you at the idea of Jungkook wearing an apron and preparing a meal from scratch, he’s usually more of a ‘let’s go to a five star restaurant tonight’ or even a ‘why don’t we take the jet to Italy today and have a real Italian?’ kind of guy. Can he even cook? You think to yourself, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket after sending another fast reply.

Y/N: If I say yes you have to promise you won’t kill me with food poisoning

“…Alright, blonde coffee blend with almond milk and one sweetener.” Namjoon says proudly, placing a large purple mug down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little nervous to be alone in his company.

It seems as though you didn’t get the memo – you’re wearing blue ripped jeans, a copped white Motley Crúe shirt and white converse with sunglasses atop of your head, feeling somewhat underdressed compared to your ex who’s sitting opposite you sporting a baby blue dress shirt and black slacks, sipping at his coffee that’s definitely not cooled down enough yet.

“So,” He’s the first to speak, fingertips rhythmically tapping his mug, “How have you been? Aside from the obvious.”

“I’m okay actually, all things considered.” You give him eye contact and a small smile, unable to rid your stomach of the guilt trying to gnaw its way out, “How about you?”

“I’m okay.” He nods, his gaze flickering from your face to the window, zoning in on the traffic below, “I’m glad you came, I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me after what happened when I saw you at the club.”

“Well we’re just friends, right?” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, you feel selfish for even being here when you know he still has feelings for you, an apologetic smile tugs the corners of your mouth, “Friends can have coffee together, it’s no big deal.”

At this he visibly stiffens with pinched brows, erasing any trace of emotion he once showed as he chooses to look you in the eye, “We’re a lot of things Y/N… But we’ll never be just friends.”

This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. Not only are you keeping this meeting from your present boyfriend, you’re toying with your past boyfriend’s heart strings. Shame and sadness hits you like a tonne of bricks, so what if Namjoon knows Jennie and didn’t tell you? This isn’t fair on anybody, not Namjoon, not Jungkook, and not you. You exhale, mustering up the courage to set boundaries with him even though you’re the one sitting in his kitchen.

“Joon…” You swallow, “You know that I’m with Jungkook now, you and I… We-, You’ll always be important to me and I’ll always be here for you if you need me… But only as a friend.”

“And he’s okay with that? Jungkook’s fine with you and I being friends?”

“Well he might not be fine with it but it’s kinda understandable… Put yourself in his shoes.”

Namjoon’s shaking his head, his face contorted with a cocktail of jealousy and regret, “I’d love to be in his shoes, to have all that power. He’s got the nice clothes, the penthouse apartment, expensive cars… And most importantly he has you.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you take a sip of your coffee, struggling to find the right thing to say, “I’m not one of his possessions Joon, I chose to be with him.”

“Chose?” He scoffs, obviously irritated, “You were coerced, he bribed you with money.”

“Wha-, Excuse me?”

“That was the deal right? Sex for money?” He’s getting louder, “Do you really think someone like that cares about you?” While his words manage to cut you deep, you defend Jungkook, he’s a good man and shouldn’t be spoken about this way.

“You’re way out of line Namjoon,” You warn him with a steady voice, “Jungkook and I are in a relationship, I’m not going to sit here and let you talk about him like that. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I was suspicious of your ‘relationship’ with him from the get go,” He mimics air quotes, “He’s not exactly a respectable man. He’s nothing more than an adult fuck boy, and when I saw the video and the conversation—”

“You watched the video?” Your tone is low, your heart dragging down into the depths of your stomach, it’s one thing for a total stranger whom you’ve never met to watch the tape but for your ex-boyfriend to watch it? That’s a whole other level of disrespect.

“I mean it’s nothing I haven’t seen before Y/N.”

There’s no emotion in his eyes, not even a spec of guilt or shame at his behaviour – this isn’t the Namjoon you once knew and loved, this is somebody else. You’re equal parts disappointed and outraged by how he’s acting, he’s staring at you expectantly as though the conversation hadn’t just taken a turn for the worse not even five minutes after you arrived. He sees no issue with watching the video, and evidently he sees no issue with berating you about Jungkook either.

“This was a mistake,” You fumble with your jacket, trying to get it on as quickly as possible, “I didn’t come here for you to make me feel like shit.”

“I never want you to feel like shit, I still love you, you know that.” For a split second you see a glimpse of the old Namjoon, his cute dimples piercing his cheeks as he talks, “I want to give us another chance, you’re so much better than him and you need to see Jungkook for who he really is instead the lies he’s told you.”

At this you laugh humourlessly, finally snapping, “You wanna talk about lies? Okay.” Your voice is raised, “Why are you so adamant my relationship isn’t real? Hm? You must’ve got the idea from someone, right? I know that you know Jennie, and I know that you were both outside my old apartment yesterday. You wanna talk about lies? Tell me why you denied it when I asked.”

It’s not clear where you got your hypothetical balls from, there was a time you would’ve never spoken to him like this – and a time where he respected your privacy, but as that’s no longer the case you’re done taking shit from people who clearly don’t give a shit about you. And so you finally grow a pair of balls and bite back, huge, venomous balls, that Joon’s currently choking on as he struggles to find any words.

“Jungkook isn’t a good person, one way or another he’s going to break your heart. He’s already publicly humiliated you.” Is what he settles for, staring at you with dark eyes as he completely ignores your outburst.

“Is that what Jennie says?” You’re not going to let this go, you need answers.

“It is, and I believe her.”

“So you do know her?” The back and forth between you is gradually getting more heated and emotional.

“I do.”

“How?”

“She’s my-,” He clicks his tongue, he looks annoyed, “We’re seeing each other.”

“You’re seeing someone yet you invited me over and just told me that you still love me?” You’re shaking your head, standing from the table as you finally get both arms into your jacket. “What a gentleman.”

“You’re with Jungkook and you agreed to come here, presumably behind his back no less. At least Jennie knows that you’re here.” His tone oozes jealousy at the mere mention of your boyfriend, he stands too, his tall frame towering over you.

Ouch, that stings a little harder than it should, “This was a mistake,” Your hearts beating so fast, your stomach churning with regrets, “But I guess you were right about one thing… You and I? We can never be friends.” You spit, not bothering to look back at him as you storm out of his apartment.

It’s when you make it outside that you’re caught by dozens of cameramen leaving the building. One of them shouts something that sounds something similar to ‘Does the new boyfriend know of yours and Jungkook’s video?’ You ignore him, pushing your way through the crows of flashing lights with nothing but adrenaline and anger in your stride. Fuck. How on earth are you going to explain this to Jungkook? Stone cold regret stiffens your joints as you try to escape the paparazzi.

A small white car pulls up beside you, blocking you from crossing the street which only pisses you off even more. Your eyes focus on the driver, your stomach flipping anxiously as you realise who it is.

“Get in.” She says quickly, opening the passenger door.

With a large amount of hesitation, you oblige, slipping into the vehicle before she speeds off down the busy streets of London. Strange isn’t the word, bizarre isn’t the word, coincidence isn’t the word. You’re confused, clicking in your seatbelt before finally glancing in her direction. She’s as gorgeous as ever, her thick hair is shorter than it used to be but other than that your sister still looks the same.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome.” Ruth mumbles, lighting a cigarette. “Lucky I saw you when I did, otherwise you’d still be back there getting harassed by cameramen.”

“Right… Thanks.” You exhale, you’ve been in her company less than a minute and of course she’s already found a way to make herself out to be some kind of hero, “Why are you even in London?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Her thin brows are furrowed as she drives round a corner, not even looking your way once, “I got a new job, I moved back in with mum and dad yesterday.”

“Oh.” You’ve been so consumed with your own life that you haven’t bothered to check the family Whatsapp group chat recently, not that she ever usually puts anything in there. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence you ask, “So how have you been?”

“Better than you’re doing, clearly.” She scoffs. She knows. Of course she knows. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, blowing smoke out of the open window, “So when do I get to meet him?”

“Who?” You know full-well who’s she’s talking about, but you ask anyway to give yourself another few seconds to think of a response that isn’t piss off Ruth.

“You’re a little too old to play dumb don’t you think?”

“Oh I’m fine by the way,” You nod slowly and sarcastically, making a ‘tsk’ sound with your teeth, “Thanks for asking.”

Fine doesn’t even begin to cut it. There’s the video and it’s repercussions to deal with, including getting to the bottom of who leaked it in the first place. Then there’s Namjoon nagging in your ear about how much of a bad person Jungkook is because that’s what he’s heard from the ever so reliable source Jennie. Then there’s the fact Jungkook’s gonna find out that you had coffee with Namjoon, you know he’s not going to be happy about it to say the least. And now, Ruth’s back in London - still as bitchy and tactless as ever. It feels as though your head is going to implode, you’re so done with everyone’s shit recently. Including your own.

“Why don’t you invite him to dinner tomorrow? Dad’s doing a barbeque.” Of course she ignores your pettiness, she’s an expert at that, “Plus now I’m there he might overlook the whole sex tape thing, he’s been so happy to see me.”

“Oh I bet.” You say between clenched teeth, she’s fucking unbelievable. “But no can do, I already have plans this weekend.”

“Tonight then.”

“I’m busy.”

“Too busy for your big sister?�� She pouts, faking offence as she pulls into your parents’ street, “Come on I need to meet him as soon as possible, mum seems to think highly of him, even after everything that’s happened. She prefers him to Namjoon which is saying something considering he’s a doctor.”

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” You may be smiling but you’re not amused, you’re in disbelief that this is even happening to you right now. For a split second you consider latching onto the steering wheel and crashing her car, just so she’ll shut up.

“I wanna meet my new boss.” She shrugs nonchalantly, as though she hasn’t just dropped the bombshell of the century, “I start at Jeon Industries on Monday.”

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boygiwrites · 8 months

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Harley D. Dixon 5

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.

And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.

Other than that, please enjoy reading!

Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"

The sun is rising.

Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.

Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.

Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.

It all feels right.

"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.

"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."

"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.

He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.

"Damn straight."

We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.

"To Harley."

"To me!"

"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."

"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.

"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."

"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."

"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"

Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.

"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.

"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."

I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.

"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."

Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.

It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.

"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.

"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."

I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.

"I did too," I confess.

My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.

"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."

"C'mere, babe."

He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.

"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.

I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.

"I knew it!"

We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."

"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."

"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.

In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.

People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.

But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—

"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.

He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

My Dad pauses. "Do what?"

"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."

My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.

"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.

"No?"

"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."

"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."

"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."

I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.

"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"

"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.

"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."

I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.

"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."

"You must have been going crazy during... everything."

"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"

Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."

I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!

"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.

"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."

Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.

"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.

"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"

Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."

Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."

"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.

"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."

"No shit?" Dad scoffs.

"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."

An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.

"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."

I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.

My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.

He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."

"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"

"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."

"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."

He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.

I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.

"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."

"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.

Someone shouts out the radio channel again.

"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.

We say goodbye to the sunrise.

"Dad, is that—?"

"That's the CDC, alright."

We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.

"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.

Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."

Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."

Why does the air feel so cold?

My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.

We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.

Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.

Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.

Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.

A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.

We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.

Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.

My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?

It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.

I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.

Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.

Guns are raised. We step back, together.

It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.

"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.

We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.

Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.

"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"

"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.

"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.

And I should be.

"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.

Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.

"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"

I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.

"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.

"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."

He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"

"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"

"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?

"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"

"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."

"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.

"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."

"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"

"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"

What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.

"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"

"That's it! We're done here!"

My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—

"Wait!"

It's Rick.

He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?

"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."

All three.

"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"

It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.

The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.

Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.

"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"

My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.

A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.

Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.

Then—

Behind us.

A gentle rumble, rumble.

We all whip around.

The doors — They're opening. They really are.

Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.

At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?

But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.

"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.

Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."

We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"

The silence answers.

"I did."

I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.

"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"

The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.

Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.

"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."

Dad puts a hand my shoulder.

The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.

"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.

"A chance."

And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.

The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."

All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.

I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.

"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."

A breath leaves us all.

"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."

That's it? A blood test?

I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.

"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."

We tell him we understand.

This place is like a magical castle.

After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour.

Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.

If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.

I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.

The tour is complete!

We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.

"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"

I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"

Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"

And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"

We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.

As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"

"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.

I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."

"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."

I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.

When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.

"He said there's a games room here." I smile.

"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"

"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"

My Dad loops the last button.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.

"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."

"I bet there's gonna be steak!"

This is the best day ever.

We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.

"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.

Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.

People start laughing.

T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."

"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.

When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.

"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.

"I'll say." Lori snickers.

Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"

Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."

I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.

Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.

"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"

"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.

Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?

I start grinning.

Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."

"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"

"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"

"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.

Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

Clink, clink, clink.

More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!

"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."

"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.

"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.

He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"

I can't help if I grow!

"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."

"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.

"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."

"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.

Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."

What a traitor!

"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"

"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.

"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."

Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?

Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.

"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."

"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.

He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.

"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"

"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.

"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.

"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"

"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.

Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"

"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."

"May I ask a question?"

We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.

The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.

"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"

And just like that, the dinner turns awkward.

Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."

The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.

"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"

Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."

"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"

The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."

I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.

"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.

The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."

The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.

"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."

"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.

Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.

"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."

Good.

The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.

"There is no cure here." The scientist says.

The dinner is over.

Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.

We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.

After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.

I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.

But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.

"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"

I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.

The cloth lifts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?

There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.

"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."

I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself.

Pills, guns, ropes.

Bridges.

"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."

"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.

"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."

Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.

He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.

"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"

I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.

Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—

"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"

I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.

"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."

I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.

Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.

But it can't get any worse.

In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.

"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.

"I miss Momma." I whimper.

His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."

"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"

I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.

I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.

My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.

And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.

I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.

"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."

"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"

He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.

I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

But before it can come—

"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"

The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath.

Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.

My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.

"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"

I feel embarrassed.

I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.

"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.

He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.

"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."

"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."

If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.

I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it.

"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?

"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."

A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.

"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.

Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"

Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."

His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."

My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."

"Don't think I do."

"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"

I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.

Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.

"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."

"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.

"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"

I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.

"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."

"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"

Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.

My Dad's patience finally runs out.

He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—

Wait.

My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?

I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.

There's a single murmur throughout the room.

"Was that the power?"

Author's Note.

Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.

So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.

For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.

It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.

So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)

Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.

On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌

Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)

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