#the marker i used for the bottom ran out of ink so i did a funky thing with a darker one on top and i think it looks neat

[averagemafuyukinnie]

im done. phew

[thefixations-ofmine]

But I still need love ‘cause I’m just a man

Buck/Tommy | 6.4k

Title from “Stay With Me” - Sam Smith Prompt: this sad post by May @bisexualbrainrots

Angst/Very little comfort | NDE (Buck) | This is practically an emergency response scene | Tommy and Buck can’t catch a break

“He’s too busy playing hero.” Tommy believes he’s one of the dimwits who ran past them in the other hall earlier. But they (assuming it was him and Eddie) would have made it out by now. There’s only a faint presence of orange glow in three of the bottom floor windows, and the 133 are working on it from the ground. He scans the triage area again, ready to walk over and examine the scratches he’s going to have to wash for the next weeks. His concerned look is mirrored by Hen who’s looking over his shoulder. “Tommy…” She sounds apologetic. She walks past him and hurries to another truck. That’s when Alan starts making it down the ladder with a firefighter potato-bagged on his shoulder with Sal just in front of him in case he slips. Tommy rushes over so he can help, but then the air is knocked out of his lungs at the sight of the sooty letters on the turnouts. Buckley.

Main Masterlist | AO3 version

There’s a dull ache in the middle of his back, just under his right shoulder, and Tommy wishes he had someone at work he was comfortable enough with to help him massage it out. He left Evan’s place in a hurry this morning, after deciding (as a grown adult) he could afford an extra hour or two cuddled in bed with him. It’s very justified and Tommy hadn’t needed much convincing: the next time their shifts align is in two weeks. The slow steps into working it out are going well if he’d say so himself, and he knows he’s going to miss Evan on their time off now more than he did before their breakup because the promise of a better future is so tangible his hands get tingly if he sits too long to think about it.

Evan’s scruffy face was smooshed into the mattress as they slowly got woken up by the sun against their cheeks, his hair a mess from the physical prowesses of the night before and the lack of A/C in his new apartment—his building manager was meant to come up by the weekend, but he got caught up in another town. Tommy had run his hand into his curls and he felt another crack mend in his soul.

“Stay with me,” Evan had whispered, punctuating the demand with his signature pout. Tommy laughs every time Evan does it, which he probably shouldn’t because it reminds Tommy of the time Evan had told him about Gerard calling him out on it. Obviously, Gerard’s face is not welcome in their memories, so he had focused on tracing every curve and ridge of Evan’s body in his mind in indelible ink. Tommy had noticed this morning that he always uses an imaginary orange marker when he does that. One day he’d ask Evan if he knew what that meant.

Tommy sets his duffle on the cracked bench in front of his locker. Something makes a loud thud, which is odd for a clothing bag. He digs inside it, under his new blue suit—if his shift wasn’t already going to be hell for being away from Evan, the rash from the stiff fabric and frilly seams might send him into retirement early—and he finds a square lunch container filled with various cookies and energy balls. Tommy chuckles to himself. Fuck, I love him.

He strips off his street clothes and steps into the suit with a disgruntled noise coming so deep from his chest it almost vibrates the whole building. He keeps from wearing it all the way, wrapping the sleeves around his waist and keeping to a white t-shirt on his upper half. After locking his stuff, he heads to the exterior lounge area to indulge in a snack and finally sip his (now at safe drinking temperature) coffee.

The new recruit, Alan, is reading another fantasy book he tried to talk Tommy into liking, his face too close to the page for someone who should keep their vision sane for their job. Tommy sits on the bench next to him, not across—he’s learned that the position creates an open door for conversation by now—and he snaps the lid open. All at once, Tommy is invaded by the smell of cinnamon, lemon, and something he’s not entirely sure should come from a box of pastries. Roses? He’s sure his boyfriend isn’t trying to poison him though, so it must be edible. It does an amazing job at covering the smell of gasoline being pumped into the engines.

“Ouh, that seems nice,” Alan says, suddenly not focused on his story. He must have hit the end of a chapter.

“They are,” Tommy replies. He’s not being dry on purpose. He tries. He’s always been the best with probies because he knows the line between being realistic about the dangers of the job and needing to build a good companionship to initiate trust. But ever since Tommy had made Alan aware that he had a boyfriend, the red head had been acting odd. Tommy couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, harmless curiosity or a slow game he was playing and was about to throw the most homophobic joke his way any day now.

“Boyfriend made them, I presume?” He stretched his head so he had a better look into the container. See? Tommy couldn’t tell if he was being inclusive or condescending. Was this a jab at Evan, or himself? Either way, Tommy can brush it off because his boyfriend does amazing things for him and he would do so regardless of his gender. Tommy does breakfasts, Evan does dinner. Tommy fixes the car Evan drives them around in. They complement each other.

With a light sigh, Tommy rotates his elbow and presents Alan today’s top selection. “Care to try?” he asks, monotone. Alan puckers his bottom lip into a “sure, whatever” expression and goes for a brown energy ball.

“Wow,” he announces with a mouthful before Tommy can even reach for something, “If he’s willing to sell some, I’m a taker!” Tommy beams. Alan wouldn’t be getting consistent deliveries considering their mixed up shifts, but he could ask Evan. Tommy loves broadcasting his talents. Well… the ones that can be mentioned to the general public.

“I’ll have a word about it with him,” Tommy says anyway. After licking his thumb clean, Alan dives back into his book and Tommy can enjoy the twenty—no, five!—minutes he’s got left before he has to start inspecting his plane. He shoves one of each item in his mouth, making sure the previous taste is gone before going onto the other, and the last one leaves him stunned. So it is rose flavored. Why was he suddenly enjoying eating flowers? The taste feels familiar, something from his childhood, but he knows such delicacy would never have made it into his father’s plate. He scuffs, and takes out his phone.

Well, who new roses would be so good? He sends the text to Evan and the running dots appear immediately;

It’s rose water baby. Much softer taste. I saw this recipe go by the other day.It’s Moroccan! Gazelle horns, they call them. Usually made of orange blossom water. Rose water is also common.Idk why I had rose water in my pantry, but I’m glad you like it!

Tommy reads the text with a fond smile, forever impressed with Evan’s bashfulness for discoveries of all kinds, and he sends a quick thank you text back. He’d tell him how the taste reminds him of his grandma’s hugs later when his hands are on his cheeks and he can kiss every inch of his face. For now, he walks to the rundown Cessna he’s about to let the rookie fly them around in. Tommy knows he has the qualifications, and had proved them more than once, but it was still odd to have someone else control “the ship”.

Pot meet kettle, he fucking knows…

In efforts to help his relationship blossom, he’d promised his therapist to let more than Evan steer him into uncharted territory. He hates how stupidly well that works. It’s also nice to slowly let go of a few responsibilities, because Tommy added three new joints to the list of things popping in his body recently and he knows it’s only down from here. Oh, and the annoying lump in his back he’s going to carry all day.

Tommy begins his routine of check-ups, always starting with gas levels and quality. Then he goes over the bolts, the welds, the oiled-up pieces. When he was going through his training before the army, he never thought he’d be so confidently flying equipment older than him, that was covered in engineering tape and squeaky parts. But, they’d been his best partners when he needed to escape his life and his thoughts. There’s no time for day-dreaming when you’re in the air. It’s you and your knowledge and a big trust in the tools. Unsurprisingly, Tommy always preferred the analog and the paper maps and the tangible notes over the gadgets. That’s one more reason to let the new generation take over the sophisticated planes the department was slowly bringing in.

He’d always have his license if he wanted to go flying a borrowed plane. He’d always have Evan to get high out of his head when he needed that, too.

“Tommy!” A feminine voice calls on him. The voice is strong enough that it pierces through the rumbling of a chopper taking off the pad. He takes the (almost empty) container from the passenger seat and hops off the foot-rest.

Oh, that can’t be good. “Karen! Everything alright, dear?” He walks over with a pep in his steps and hurries to pull her into a hug. It doesn’t last longer than it should, so he guesses she doesn’t need some consolation. He gives her another questioning look.

“Evan said you had forgotten this at his place and brought it to the station. It so happens that I needed to drive Hen to work, so I’m the lucky messenger.” Her smile is genuine. She never fake-smiles to make people like her. Tommy loves it.

“Ah, and I’m lucky you were available.” He takes the plastic bag out of her hands as he throws a finger gun out, not even sure if the content is truly useful enough that it needed to be express-delivered to his job. He waits to be alone to open it—he’s learned too many embarrassing lessons while dating Evan to be that naïve anymore. “Thank you,” he adds, tipping his head towards the main building and she walks along with him.

“I’m not one to excuse other people’s behavior,” Karen starts, her hands entwined over her navel. “But I want you to know that Hen never meant to be unsupportive of you two.” Her smile is a tight line now. Tommy doesn’t like that one as much.

“Karen, I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch either—”

“—Tommy. I don’t think the 118 stood a chance of growing into much of a thing under Gerard. You left with your reasons and Hen is not one to mingle without being asked, so… You guys simply never built anything other than what was needed to do this job. You two are a lot alike for that.” She lays a hand on his shoulder and they snicker in acknowledgement. They sit on the cracked bench in front of his locker; he has to write this up to his boss.

“I mean, I understand that she would take Buck’s side in all of this. It’s not like she went out of her way to be mean either, so.”

“Oh, she wasn’t even on Buck’s side if I’m honest,” she admits. Tommy throws another puzzled look, his brows are about to cramp. “Nobody really was,” she adds, voice softened with empathy. Tommy makes her explain further, because this changes a few things and if Tommy had Eddie say he’s sorry, he’s not above walking into the station to know what’s up between them and Evan. Then again, Karen also notes that some work has been done, and that after Buck impulsively said he was going to switch stations, the team had a major heart-to-heart moment and things lashed out. It seemed like everyone was holding onto something they needed to say. Tommy smiles knowing Evan stood up for himself, but he should have been there anyway.

“You are now,” she says with that full-face smile again. Tommy nods. I’ll always be. He unclips the snack container and dips into it for a lemon bar. It feels accurate to her demeanor, or at least the way Tommy sees her. The convinced nods and sounds she’s emitting seem to prove his theory, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to tell Evan how proud he is without crying.

Before they can continue the heart-felt moment, the siren goes off and a dispatcher is dictating instructions for a category three alarm downtown. Tommy promises to invite them over for coffee, that Evan has a new recipe he’s dying to try. He hugs her and heads to the truck: it seems like this is a ground operation for now, no need for sky evac. Karen stands and waits for them to leave so she doesn’t head out into the commotion with her car. Tommy knows that look too well, the memory of his mom’s face when he walked out the door for his first deployment burned in his brain. It warms his heart that Karen cares for all of them.

Rookie is already sitting and buckled when Tommy jumps into the cabin, and Alan hands him a pair of headphones. “This is going to be a big one,” he says, not knowing the half of it. His first month as probie hadn’t really put him to the test. Most of the emergencies he rode along for had been hiking accidents or generic transport calls. Tommy had to remind him of the importance of their job, big or small, but he understands how jarring it can be when you’re just starting out and you don’t have a moment to prove yourself. This is going to be the ultimate make or break, but Tommy is confident in him.

As they roll onto the scene, a crew of EMTs and nurses are setting up bandage kits and IV bags in the triage area, and Tommy hopes that’s all they’ll be needing today. A few people are already sitting near the green tent, none of them holding an oxygen mask, so they had to be the ones to call it in. His body always shivers when he sees the black tent of empty bags further down. He’s not even sure Alan has ever seen one of those up close.

“That’s it?” And as if Tommy hadn’t warned him about the EMT gods just last week, an explosion hits behind the bigger building, and Tommy grunts, even if he’s shedding the stupid blue suit and is pulling on the turnouts. He shakes his head and Tommy blindly digs into the container at his side for another few bites, Alan allows himself another snack as well. They rush out of the truck, and search for the Battalion chief in silence.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, firefighter down! I repeat, firefighter down.” Alan’s voice echoes over the series of radios around Tommy on the ground, but the resources are running thin and most of the ambulances have started shipping people out to hospitals. He estimates the next one to come back is still fifteen minutes out, minimum.

“What’s his name, Alan?” Tommy calls in. It takes a few more seconds than he’d like for the boy to answer.

“I can’t, he’s pinned. I can’t turn him.” He sounds exhausted, and Tommy doesn’t blame him. But he had been clear about pacing themselves and Alan had just run up and down five flights of stairs helping people out safely so he couldn’t be too mad about it. Their captain takes a step next to Tommy and sets a hand on his shoulder, taking over. Tommy runs to the truck to get his mask as some instructions are dictated over the radio. He knows the kid is alone up there, well, the only one alert and able to do anything for the moment. Tommy comes back to the command station and waits for his instructions.

“I’ve got guys on the roof trying to get a hole so they can at least have air to breathe. Alan says the guy is breathing and spasming.” He pauses as if this was a movie that needed suspense. “So maybe if someone can get up there and—”

“Get him unpinned, he can probably walk himself out.” Tommy stretches his mask over his head and fastens his helmet. When his captain nods, he makes his way up the ladder. Tommy will never admit it—other than to Evan, maybe, some night when they’ll be tipsy and laying on their backs looking at the clouds, he’ll tell him about it—but ladders have always given him vertigo. Even if he’d sat in the back of an open cargo plane with his feet dangling off some thirty thousand feet above water he’d never felt his knees as jiggly as on a freaking ladder. He hopes Evan will tell him what has him feeling this way too and not judge him.

“Alan, I’m coming through the east window,” Tommy warns and breaks the glass with his halligan bar. He doesn’t bother cleaning the edges, he’s tested the fire suit far enough to know glass doesn’t even leave a scratch.

When Tommy sets foot into the room, a gust of wind shoves new flames between him and Alan, and he finds himself trapped in the opposite corner. There’s a door behind him, which thankfully has been holding the fire in the adjacent hallway at bay for a bit, but he knows they’ve got minutes before it invites itself in. There’s an extinguisher in a protected display he reaches for, and immediately calls for backup.

The guys on the ceiling manage to dig their way through and the rumbles fall a few feet on Tommy’s left, and he bends before the flames rush above him, trying his best to aim the powder at the door as he’s ducked by a wall. The bottle quickly runs out and has to go fetch another, and Tommy’s no gambler, but he knows he’s getting a lotto ticket after tonight because two extinguishers are waiting for him in the first cabinet he opens. Sometimes he wonders why building managers are cautious enough to stack up on them, but won’t keep their electricals up to code. Or tell the city there’s a thousand dollars worth of pressurized tanks in a hidden basement of their condominium park.

Tommy turns quickly to check on Alan and the victim now that the wall of flames has vanished in the autumn air, and when he sees that Alan is talking to the firefighter and keeping him conscious, he continues his fight against the flames that are forcing their way through the door. The room is almost out of fire except for the one eating through the last exposed beams on the furthest wall. Tommy doesn’t like the idea that their only way out is through the window he used, making a rescue more complicated. The third extinguisher is about to run out along with their time and he could use a hand before the fucking cramp in his back makes him another burden to carry.

Right as the white powder stops pouring from the nozzle, a familiar voice calls him. “Get out of the way!” Tommy dumps the canister in the corner and moves aside, helping Sal feed the hose through the window. They both know the maneuver isn’t usually prescribed, but they’ve done dumber shit. They need to stop the fire from reaching the last standing building, or from rotting the floor beneath them, so whatever will do. He hasn’t had a hands-on opportunity in months, and the teamwork sensation isn’t the same when you’re safely secluded in a flying fortress several feet away from any open flame. Every time he would scold Evan for telling him what he had done at work that day, he knew he was also slapping his own hand knowing he would have done the same for the thrill.

Plus, Sal is captain now. He gets extra strikes for his dodgy decisions.

They see firefighters run past down the hallway on the other side of the condemned door and another guy just climbed from the window to hose down the other wall. “They almost had Gerard get out of retirement again for this one,” Sal jokes and Tommy roars with him, his lungs protected with clean oxygen for at least the next ten minutes.

“Oh, you’re shitting me!” Sal had yelled in the packed bar. Buck looked at Tommy who had splattered beer all over himself, unsure why the reply had caught him by surprise. “The fucker did what?” Buck had been explicit with everything that had gone down while Gerard had taken over, even more so than when he’d been actively telling Tommy the stories as they happened—Sal had that unique charisma that hit you like a truth serum. Tommy’s hand was ready at all times to fly out to Buck’s mouth, but he didn’t have to. It was nice to see them interact and banter, and it made Tommy much more comfortable in himself that Sal had thrown him a casual “Fucker, why didn’t you tell me before?” as they embraced by the entrance.

“He-he hugged me! I thought he was going to kiss me at some point,” Buck had slurred, their shots also adding to the spontaneity. There was an easy conversation going all night that kept them up until the wee hours, and Tommy found himself spacing out quite often as he replayed different scenarios of what could have happened if people hadn’t complained about Gerard; if Bobby hadn’t joined and gained enough trust in Tommy so he could also trust himself to leave; if Buck had never joined the 118 and been crazy enough to hop on some random man’s helicopter on their way to a hurricane. Maybe his mom was right and fate existed outside of religion and prayers. It existed for good-hearted people and broken souls alike. He had talked to her that night as he was alone at the bar ordering another round. He found a hundred bucks on the floor just after. “Yeah, I’m holding onto that one mom.”

Once Sal is set and steady, Tommy leans out the window and throws a thumbs-up at the pump operator on the ground, keeping off the radio. Seconds later, water starts fanning out of both nozzles and pushes the fire back a few feet. Gonzalez gets rid of the fire behind them in a flash, so Sal knows he can kick the stupid door in front of them safely without causing a draft. Sal taps Tommy out of duty when the flames are under control, and he calls in the medics for the injured firefighter. Tommy makes it halfway down when Alan’s radio chimes in again: “Where’s my medic? I think I’m losing him!” Tommy’s gut flinches, even if he runs back up he’d be no help. Sal is still there and can help with the rumble but the floor is getting weak and they need an escape plan, not another two-hundred plus man who would look like a lost chicken.

“Tommy?” He turns towards yet another familiar voice when his feet hit the ground, and he smiles at the one person he’s delighted to see on extreme scenes.

“Hen, I—” Tommy trips over his boots, the exhaustion wearing him thin. She’s ready to catch him and keep him up but she walks him to the back of the truck to sit him onto the chrome ridge.

“You alright?” She asks, analyzing his eyes.

“Hmm. Ye-yeah.” He watches her face as she flashes a light at him, and he likes her satisfying diagnosis smile. He throws her an exaggerated grin, making her laugh. It had been a while since she’d been the one tending to him during emergencies. Tommy remembers he promised her wife earlier today that he’d invite them over, but that’s too trivial of a conversation for now. When his vision stabilizes, he notices her hat. “Captain?” He’s not surprised, even if Chim had more seniority.

“Interim. We haven’t…” Tommy reaches for her hand in reassurance. He doesn’t need to be talking about that either. There will be a moment when things will fall into place and the 118 will be able to add yet another chapter to their book. He knows though that it means she’s not the one going up there to save the guy. He looks around for available medics, but the triage area is a chaotic place he doesn’t want to visit. None of them have firefighter gear anyway. That’s when he sees the 118 ambulance drive back, with Chim and some woman he doesn’t know. When they park, they both jump out and Ravi appears from the back. It’s good to see them.

“Surprised you’re not hiding behind a truck with your boyfriend,” Ravi jokes, reaching to help another station roll back their hoses as the fire gradually loses the fight. His face is scratched and more worn out than that night at the bar.

“He’s too busy playing hero.” Tommy believes he’s one of the dimwits who ran past them in the other hall earlier. But they (assuming it was him and Eddie) would have made it out by now. There’s only a faint presence of orange glow in three of the bottom floor windows, and the 133 are working on it from the ground. He scans the triage area again, ready to walk over and examine the scratches he’s going to have to wash for the next weeks. His concerned look is mirrored by Hen who’s looking over his shoulder.

“Tommy…” She sounds apologetic. She walks past him and hurries to another truck.

That’s when Alan starts making it down the ladder with a firefighter potato-bagged on his shoulder with Sal just in front of him in case he slips. Tommy rushes over so he can help, but then the air is knocked out of his lungs at the sight of the sooty letters on the turnouts.

Buckley.

Alan bends just enough over the railing so Tommy can pick him up bridal style, and then a series of frantic voices start calling out at him but he’s zoning in, speed-walking to the back of the ambulance and Ravi helps him set Evan on a plaster board he picked up. Hen is already sitting against the cabin wall with an oxygen mask as they slide him over. Before Tommy can jump in and leave, Sal jabs a hand on his chest.

“He’s breathing, Tommy. He just needs-“

Tommy whips his head back and shoots Sal a stern, but knowing look. He taps the hand that’s on his chest and Sal pulls back understanding every silent word. Tommy is too livid at himself to form a sentence, let alone say thank you without starting to ball his eyes out. 

“Faster people!” Chim yells and honks. Tommy jumps in and closes the doors, giving one last look at Ravi and Sal who look guilty as they stand in the parking lot. Maybe Tommy will have to invite more people to his barbecue than he thought when Evan is healed and they’re ready to laugh back at the stunt he must have pulled to find himself in that situation. Chim drives them towards First Presbyterian, twelve minutes out. Tommy is kneeling next to Evan, Hen prepping a bag of fluids, and it takes Tommy an extra moment to realize there’s another pair of feet on his right.

Alan. “I, I need to, to tell you-” Tommy starts. He’s not even sure if that made any noise.

“No need. It’s the job,” the kid says, shrugging like he didn’t spend the last twenty minutes testing his strength and stamina getting his boyfriend out of a burning building alongside other crew members he didn’t know. He has the heart for the job. Tommy will sing his praises. He also knows him and Evan can’t meet—well, spend time together, he means. Or Tommy’s phone will ring his ear out from all the calls he’ll get to bail them both out of prison. 

“Does he always smile to himself?” Alan asks Hen and she scuffs.

“When he’s with that idiot, yes,” she says, nodding towards Evan’s tired body. Tommy notices the movement of his eyes under his lids—that, and the several dried patches of blood across his face and neck—and wonders what Evan could be thinking about. He hopes he knows Tommy’s there for him this time, even if he hadn’t been the one fighting to get him out. He reaches for Evan’s hand and allows himself to slide along the metal box covering the wheel.

Tommy tilts his head back, letting his neck rest against the seat and sway with the turns and bumps. They’re three minutes out, Chimney updates them. He’s dipping his toe into dangerous territory, and Tommy knows he can’t fall asleep just yet, but the adrenaline is wearing off more rapidly than before as his endurance fades away each year. Maybe he’ll stop blowing his candles to save his breath for the future. As he’s about to sit up straight and slap himself in the face for good measure, the machine next to Hen starts beeping louder.

Then the peaks of green light flatten out.

“Alan, hold this.” Tommy hears Hen but her voice is muffled. Tommy reaches for his hat, but it’s long been discarded in the parking lot. Why are the lights in here suddenly so bright? Hadn’t Hen checked him out earlier? He watches as she shoves the bag into Alan’s hand and starts unwrapping metal and plastic tools and intrudes the longest one into Evan’s mouth. Tommy swallows. It tastes like bile.

“Chim!”

“Two blocks away!”

The conversation goes on but the sound tunnels out, giving him slight motion sickness. Something nudges his shoulder and the action throws him back into fight mode. Tommy pushes himself to straddle Buck and start unfastening his jacket and the equipment and gadgets off his body. Everything has a purpose when they’re on the other end of things doing their job, but now all of it has Tommy raging and heating up, the speaker of his radio splitting into pieces when it’s thrown onto the wall next to Alan.

“Tommy. You’re too close to this!”

“And you’re not?” He screams back at Hen unexpectedly. He knows she understands, but Alan’s hand on his shoulder doesn’t budge as Tommy keeps peeling off the layers on his inanimate boyfriend’s body. His undershirt is easy to tear apart even if Tommy didn’t have to do that to start compressions. But he needs his hands on Evan’s skin to know he’s still warm and not yet gone far enough that Tommy needs to consider jumping out the ambulance’s back door into traffic. His hand position isn’t ideal and he knows his fingers are going to burn like hell when he’s done, but he needs to start pumping. A bed is waiting for himself at the hospital anyway: there’s no way Tommy heals from the aches of this emergency in under a week without some extra fluids and strong meds.

He makes the first three compressions, then he panics. What was it again? The song? Fuck, Kinard, focus! His brain zaps to a memory of Evan sitting across his lap in the back of a field at a festival they attended over the summer, and he knows a conversation about this exact thing had happened.

“Isn’t it conventionally Staying Alive?” Tommy asked, sipping his beer. He looked at Evan, not really caring for the popular group on the stage he knew nothing about, because the wind was blowing in his hair and the sun had dolled his cheeks up and how in the world had he bagged this guy (twice), he couldn’t know.

“Actually, Staying Alive has a BPM of 104, which has been proven to be a little slow for CPR. Someone said to aim for 110. The sweet spot.” Tommy listened, ran his thumb just above Evan’s knee. “And, it’s an easier number to remember.”

Tommy chuckled at that. “Yeah, but one has to actually know 110 BPM songs even if they remember the number, Evan.” He wiggled his brows in challenge, which obviously, his savvy boyfriend took no offense in. He started listing down a series of songs he had saved on a specific playlist. CPR Songs, the title said. Of course. Tommy laughed with him about the chances of anyone being able to take his phone out before doing CPR were below ten percent, which Evan had another argument against.

He’d prompted Evan all afternoon that day. Asking random questions about the flowers and beers and who had essentially written the saddest song ever, to which Tommy knew he had good contenders. It was the first time he ever thought of being indecent in public, because Tommy also spent the entire time half-hard against Evan’s thigh and he was one factoid away from pulling the picnic blanket over them.

“My phone! Someone grab my phone!” Hen gives him a look like he’d just lost his mind, which wouldn’t be too far from the truth, then Alan starts patting his jacket until Tommy says it’s in the left chest pocket and he holds it in front of him, waiting.

“Tommy, I already call-”

“Kiss. By Prince.” Tommy interrupts Chim as Alan sits with wide eyes next to him, perplexed. “Play it.”

Tommy starts pressing into Evan to the beat, aware that Hen is looking at him with judgement, but she doesn’t say a word. She shouldn’t. She’d done worse in this ambulance, but the moment would be awkward for anyone. The peppy song is blasting through his ears while his mind is in a completely other realm of emotions, so he understands the kid’s reaction. It works though. Tommy manages to keep up with the beat (110, he does remember the number), and slowly he lets himself add a little more weight and urgency.

“Come on,” he grunts to himself, his sweat dripping from his lips. “Come o-oh fuck!” Tommy dry heaves when he feels a rib give under his hand but he continues. He knows it’s inevitable. Hen subtly pulls out a container from under the bench. “I’m fine,” Tommy lies. Nothing is fine. Not his head, not his heart, not his body. Or the stupid lump in his shoulder he should have had Karen look over!

And certainly not the love of his life who’s about to beat his previous cardiac arrest time if he makes it to the end of the fucking song.

Tommy is a machine guy, not a people guy. He knows what to change when things aren’t turning smoothly and what needs tightening so things don’t fall apart. You put gas in and a series of reactions happen to turn it into energy. It’s simple. Things can stay broken down for a while and when he fixes them, they start working like new.

“We’re very much like cars, Tommy! We need fuel so the motor runs, and we need some time off so we don’t overheat.” Tommy listened from the couch as Evan yapped about the similarities of his passion and work, and smiled when he walked back to him with chips and salsa. “We have mileage, aches and lumps and the best part…” Evan had stopped, straddled Tommy’s lap before he continued, “We also need oil changes.”

Then why wasn’t this kickstarting his heart again? Tommy could fix everything he touched. Why was he so incompetent now? “Come back.” The strain in his voice is Oscar worthy. The tears cascading down his cheeks are paid actors. It would earn him the best acclaim if some rom-com addicts ever watched this moment on film. They’d win the prize for greatest tragedy of the year! But right now, Tommy needs Evan back because he’s not at that part of the movie yet. They’re not two old men on their death beds with plenty of stories to tell. “Please baby, stay with me!”

Hen is attentive, a hand on the flat-lined monitor and the other pumping the air bag that’s tubed into Evan’s mouth. She does that so effortlessly. He needs to ask her how. He notices Alan had gotten responsibility for the puke container, the poor kid—he’ll never want to do ground work again.

Tommy trusts Hen to stop him if he’s doing something terrible, so he stays focused, not realizing the doors behind him open and an array of people start to yell instructions at each other. Then, as someone starts yanking on his jacket, his vision clears out and he suddenly becomes aware of the commotion. Hen frantically shakes his shoulders to make him stop. He shoots up, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering himself. Why is she stand-

“He’s okay! He’s okay!” And Tommy watches the valleys of light dance across the screen and he sighs, actually thinking of yanking the freaking bowl out of Alan’s hand this time. He falls onto the bottom of the ambulance, watching as people pull the plank out with Evan, alive, and set him on a proper gurney. He jumps out after them, helped by Alan and a good Samaritan or Tommy would have faceplanted in front of the big windows giving into the waiting room.

The song ends as someone hands him his phone, cutting him out of the haze. I just want your extra time, and your… kiss. He presses stop on the next song.

“Maddie? I-” 

“Thank you,” she mouths.

He’s surprised she’s here. Who even called her? He didn’t hear Chim speak other than to swear at some drivers or tell them the ETA. It’s got to be around dinner time by now, maybe someone at dispatch filled her in before she left. The sky is orange, just like the one Tommy uses to trace Evan in his mind and suddenly he can’t help the tears from overflowing. Luckily for him, Maddie is amazing competition when it comes to crying easily. He feels her snuggle into his side, something that had never happened until now—granted that Tommy never allowed himself to be too familiar with people. She’s not just people now though, isn’t she? It’s nice, even if this is a spur of the moment and she’s only taking pity on him. He’ll take it. He pulls his arms around her and squeezes her: she’s not the Buckley he wants to hug, but she smells better than the smoke she’s inhaling in return, and Tommy feels bad for a moment.

“I hate to break this, guys. But Tommy, you need to be checked out.” When Maddie pulls away, and they turn towards Hen, Tommy becomes very aware of the tremble in his hands and the delay in the image as he looks around. It almost feels like the few minutes before he passed out in that gas leak many moons ago.

“Yeah, I should.”

-

Buck's POV (coming soon)

[oracleofsecrets]

Made a cool embroidered pendant thing for my wretched mother

Seed beads, embroidery floss, fabric scrap and matching sewing thread, hidden stock card circle in the back, bit of wire, two connectors(? Spacers? I forgot what they’re called. Got them in the jewelry-rings and charms aisle at Michaels) and superglue

It’s about 1.5” diameter (the needles are my Big yarn/tapestry needles lol)

{Director’s Commentary under Read More}

Raspberries was chain stitch outline/fill, then just some straight stitches along the chain outline with beads added, some French knots in the middle for height, then adding beads in the middle by putting the needle through the French knots

Leaflets are woven picot. One berry I did the leaflets After stitching the berry and beads, the other I did leaflets Before berry and beads. Each has their charm, I think

(Sloppy) stem stitch for the vine. Should have done more than two strands… Smaller leaves are raised herringbone stitch. The big leaf is fishbone stitch done as wire work/stumpwork. Probably should’ve used stabilizer to help me plan the placement and spacing a little better but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Didn’t really think far enough ahead for how to secure it to the hoop things… in my head I was going to gather the fabric behind like when you finish off in an embroidery hoop. But then I realized that wouldn’t get the popover effect I wanted. I ended up using Two hoops, one gathered in the back as planned (despite minor struggles with the “ring” on top)

I didn’t want to use hot glue bc it’d Ooze over and make gaps, so I went with superglue. I was too nervous/not thinking ahead to put the glue on the bottom and Then press the top hoop into place bc I was worried I wouldn’t get the placement right and it’d get stuck crooked. Instead I just held the pieces together and ran the glue along the outside letting it seep under the top hoop (and too far in some places, as you can see lol). I didn’t spill any superglue or get any on my fingers this time too >:3

I rreeaaaaally should’ve made the hole in the fabric for the connection ring spot Before gluing things together, bc dried-superglued-fabric doesn’t want to move much! Tried my best to buttonhole stitch it open regardless (round-needle nose pliers are great for opening up the fabric)

Also didn’t think far enough ahead on tidying up the back�� I cut out a small circle of card stock or something like it that I grabbed from the recycling bag lol. I put that on the back and sewed a circle of matching fabric over it kind of like needle turn appliqué style but Hard Mode bc of some of the dried glue…

You can kinda see a bit of the pink fabric marker ink from where I marked the backing piece but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I like how that all made for a neat flat back side and pushed some of the excess fabric forward like padding to make the front a bit curved

[spindlebeforesunset]

Pranksters and the Pranked

(because it is April Fools at my place already)

Ace Trappola - prankster

• got their other two roommates to participate in pranking Deuce

• set the room clock 3 hours later than usual

• while the two roommates were "busy preparing for the school day" at 2 am, Ace flicks open the lights and starts turning them on and off and shouts "OI DEUCE WAKE UP, WE'RE LATE"

• he finally yeets a pillow at Deuce's face to wake him up

Deuce Spade - pranked

• a very confused Deuce wakes up, sees that the three of them are already dressed, looks at the clock, and panic dresses himself

• "wheresmyhomeworkwheresmyhomework-"

• only when he runs out in the rose garden does he finally see that, it's still nighttime, no he isn't late, and yes, his sleep was ruined

• trudges back to the dorm room where he finds them all cracking up

• he chucks a pillow at Ace before promptly flopping back on his bed

• with his shoes on (n a s t y)

---

Cater Diamond - prankster

• has a plastic cockroach toy in his pocket as he is to serve Riddle tea again on this fine day

• Riddle is having a nice time admiring the roses and often sticks his teacup out for Cater to fill

• while Riddle is inspecting a rose, Cater pours the tea and slips the plastic cockroach inside the teacup as well

• he doesn't change his expression when he hands back the teacup

Riddle Rosehearts - pranked

• Riddle sips the warm tea and feels something solid touching his lips

• he looks down

• immediately drops the teacup starts screaming there's a fucking cockroach in the teacup

• he realizes that Cater is doubled over laughing so he takes the opportunity to whoop Cater's head before storming off

---

Trey Clover - pranked

• he's bored and decides to make cookies

• he double checks the chocolate chips bag to ensure that they were not replaced with chocolate covered raisins like what Che'nya did last year

• no raisins, so he shrugs his shoulders that Che'nya had really ran out of ideas after many years

• takes out the ingredients necessary for the cookies and starts to mix the ingredients

• the process is going fine until he cracks an egg

• there's no liquid yolk pouring out

• he looks at the insides and finds that the egg has been fully hardboiled

• "... I should've known better," he sighs

• somewhere in the kitchen, an invisible RSA student laughs

---

Ruggie Bucchi - prankster

• gives Leona a package that appears to be from Cheka as there is a letter written in crayon and with childish handwriting

• stands near Leona's bed when he opens it

Leona Kingscholar - pranked

• he doesn't expect anything except maybe a small zebra toy

• but when he shakes the package and heard nothing he immediately thinks it is sus AF

• he glares at Ruggie, but even Ruggie doesn't appear to know anything

• he tears the wrapper, opens the box, and reads the words written ddirectly at the bottom: when will I get paid :(

• "Nice try Ruggie, I'll think about it."

• before he crashes back to his pillow, he sees Ruggie face droop along with his ears

Jack Howl - the only safe one

• by some miracle, the only student in school who did not fall into a prank

---

Floyd Leech - prankster

• beware Floyd and his pranks, because he will prank just about anybody

• he started with Azul, sneaking in Azul's bedroom (with the latter still asleep) and replacing Azul's glasses with glasses with lens he colored in black marker

• next, while Jade is in the bathroom, he replaces Jade's usual school tie with one that shifts colour and pattern every hour or so (now, it currently looks like the regular school tie)

• set up buckets full of water in the first year classrooms (Epel was dowsed in one, Sebek too, the last being Grim)

• handed Divus a blank assignment (written in invisible ink), but before Divus can even scold him, he passes the paper near a fire where the answers finally appear where Divus takes it with a huff

Azul Ashengrotto - pranked

• he wakes up and puts on his glasses by the bedside table

• how come he can't see

• it takes his sort of sleepy self two minutes to put two and two together

• instantly groans, knowing that Floyd definitely has his real glasses

Jade Leech - pranked

• he puts on his tie as he normally would and walks out the room

• when Ruggie asks him why his tie looked so funky in the middle of the day, he takes it off and finds that it has a silly banana pattern

• facepalms

• h a r d

• that he walked around with who-knows-a-probably-weirder-pattern around the school

---

Kalim Al-Asim - prankster & pranked

• harmlessly pranked by Jamil when he believed the milk was coconut juice (was kinda disappointed though)

• has slapped whoopee cushions everywhere underneath all the seats in Scarabia just for the heck of it to the chagrin of practically everyone

• asks Silver what's up with his blazer because what even is that

Jamil Viper - prankster

• he started with Kalim and the cocount juice

• knew full well that the seats were full of whoopee cushions and avoids sitting on all of them

• managed to trick Grim that he had tuna cans and when he gave Grim one, he excused himself that he had somewhere to go

• he watches hidden behind a pillar as Grim opens the tuna can and finds nothing but sand inside

• has to kick himself to stop his laughter from seeing Grim's disappointed face

---

Rook Hunt - prankster

• he was going to prank both Vil and Epel, but after hearing how the latter was dowsed in water for first period, decides to just prank Vil

• slaps cake icing inside an empty and expensive lotion bottle and wraps it with a ribbon

• he runs to Vil in the dormitory after classes and says it was left near his doorstep so tue sender must've mixed the rooms up

• unfortunately, Vil's door is closed on him

Vil Schoenheit - pranked

• after deciding not to scold Epel with the water fiasco, he takes the lotion bottle from Rook and takes it to his room, not seeing the "and I oop" face

• he squirts out a small amount of lotion on his palm and finds that it smells... weirdly fruity

• suspicious now, he rubs it with his palms and (despite all what he knew about beauty products) licks a tiny bit of it to confirm what it was

• blueberry icing

• "... well, it could have been worse."

• ends up tripping where he uses his hands to break the fall and realizes what a big mistake he's made with his sticky palms

• internally groans

Epel Felmier - pranked (can we get an F)

• as soon as he feels his clothes get wet and the bucket land on his head, he knew he was fucked for the whole day and goes through classes with a sheepish expression

---

Idia Shroud - pranked

• he decides to go outside and get something from the vending machine for once

• takes one step out and slides on a rug by his doorstep that was never there before

• "This is a warning, so maybe I'll just stay inside as always."

• gets back to his room where Ortho asks if he was just pranked as today was April Fools

• "...yep, I'm staying here the whole day."

• "Brother, no."

• unfortunately, they don't know who set up that rug

---

Lilia Vanrouge - prankster

• the only person who can and will prank Malleus Draconia

• he hides a small and cheap speaker at full blast (connected to his phone) inside Malleus' closet the day prior

• plays the end part of In the Hall of the Mountain King in a loop at exactly 3 am and everyone hears it in the halls

• tricks Sebek to believe that his crappily made cake would give whoever ate it additional strength, claiming the recipe was well-known back in his day

• swaps the black coffee powder with powdered chocolate milk just because

• swaps Silver's blazer with a seemingly normal one, but the back reads: If lost, return to Malleus

Malleus Draconia - pranked

• that music is straight up panic inducing and hurries to find it

• ends up finding it half an hour and yeets it out the window because he can't turn it off

• he's annoyed but goes back to sleep

• is huffy that he can't have coffee

• promptly confused why Silver is brought to him near lunch break until he sees what's at Silver's blazer at the back

• "Did he just..."

Sebek Zigvolt - pranked

• additional strength from the cake you say? THE BETTER TO SERVE WAKA-SAMA

• does not see the already facepalming Silver preparing the morning coffee

• takes a mouthful of it and starts chewing it before realizing something was not right

• "Sebek, I didn't think you would actually eat it. I made it bad on purpose."

• now that's a way to add insult to injury

• if he thought his morning was not already humiliating enough, he gets dowsed in water by Floyd's bucket

• him the whole day be like (;*△*;)

Silver

• poor Silver already knew full well of Lilia's antics, yet he still has no way out of it

• he puts on his blazer, not expecting anything wrong

• the powdered milk instead of coffee did annoy him though

• however, when Kalim shoves him to Malleus near lunch, he's shook

• until Kalim tells him to take off his blazer to show the both of them what was embroidered at the back

• "You mean I went out like this?"

• "It appears so," says Malleus

• "Oof," from Kalim

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

matching tattoos

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k (the longest i’ve done in a while whoo 🎉)

"Stevie, I don't think your mom will be too happy with me if I let you do this," Harry said, eying his two year old daughter. She had been asking about it for weeks, but so far he'd been able to distract her before you caught wind of their conversation.

"Pleeeease, daddy?" She pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Why don't we have some cookies instead, love?" 

"No." 

"Ummm... oh! I know what we can do! Why don't we go in my studio? You can play the piano, or the guitar, maybe sing a song for me..." He trailed off.

"I want to do this! Please?" 

Harry's heart melted in three seconds flat. How could he say no to her? He tried, he really did. He opened his mouth to say "no, mommy will really kill me, why don't we do something else?" but one glance at her sweet face left him speechless. He couldn't do it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Alright, we'll do it... but!" He cut himself off, raising his voice slightly to be heard over her excited cheering. "But! We only have two hours til mommy gets home." She nodded eagerly, bouncing on her feet. 

"And if we do this it has to be our secret, mommy can't know. Can you keep this secret?" He said, making a very serious face. 

"Yes!" She squealed, giggling. 

"Pinky promise?" 

She beamed, holding her tiny hand up to his. He wrapped his finger around hers, squeezing for just a second before releasing her. 

"Go get the markers then, we have to work fast!" 

Stevie screamed in excitement, running as fast as her little legs could carry her. He heard her digging around the art room, probably making a huge mess, before he heard a scraping noise on the wood floor. She was pushing a box of markers that was nearly as big as she was, groaning dramatically. 

"It's... too... heavy," she panted.  "Please help!" 

Harry smiled, leaning down to pick up the box. He scooped her up too, settling them both down on the table. 

"Alright, Miss Styles," he said, adapting a posh accent. "This is a proper tattoo parlor, so we shall do this properly, hm?" 

She laughed, kicking her feet. 

"I want the mermaid!" She said, pointing to the ink on his forearm. 

"Patience, Miss Styles," He smiled, wetting a paper towel under the faucet. "First, we have to get your arm ready!" 

She held out her arm, tracing her little fingers over his other tattoos as he wiped her wrist with the cloth. 

"So, the mermaid, hm? You have excellent taste, Miss Stevie," he joked, throwing the towel back to the sink. "What color?" 

"Black, like yours," she said, smiling sweetly. 

He felt his heart squeezing as he reached for a black marker. She was so precious. He would do anything, literally anything, to make her happy. He knew it was probably dangerous, how much power this two year old had over him, but he didn't care. He had been in love with her since the day she was born; since the first time he had looked at her. 

"We can match, look at that!" He said, beginning to draw on her arm. "Did you know that I love you sooooo much?" 

"I love you too, daddy," she giggled. "And that tickles!" 

"Oh, it tickles, does it? Should I stop?" He hovered the marker over her skin, glancing at her teasingly. 

"No!" She yelled. "I want to match you!" 

"Alright then," He said, laughing as he went back to his task. "Why don't we listen to some music?" 

"Yeah!" 

"What should we listen to?" 

"Your song, the fire!" 

"The fire?" Harry looked up, confused. "None of my songs have fire in them, bug." 

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "And the fish!" 

Harry thought for a second before it clicked. "Do you mean Adore You?" 

"That one!" 

"You're right," He laughed. "That one does talk about fire. I'll get it, yeah?" 

He set down the marker, picking up his phone. After a minute, she was dancing in her seat to the drums of Adore You. When the chorus came on, she sang "walk through fire for you" while looking at Harry triumphantly. 

"Did you know this song is about mommy?" He said, focusing on his drawing. 

"Really?" She asked incredulously, eyes wide. 

"Really! It's about how much I love her." 

"Yucky," She said, scrunching her nose.

  "Yucky? That's not yucky!" he exclaimed. "It's nice!" 

Stevie hummed, kicking her feet along with the music.

   "It's yucky." 

"Stevie, you're hurting my feelings!" He said, gasping and clutching his chest dramatically. "I can't go on," he sighed, throwing his other arm over his forehead. "I'm sorry, daddy," She giggled, reaching up to pull his arm back to her. "Keep going!" 

He smiled, adding the finishing touches to her drawing.

"And... there we go! One mermaid, just for you." 

She beamed, holding her arm next to his to compare. 

"Daddy... your mermaid has no clothes. She needs some." 

"How about you draw her a shirt?" Harry laughed, handing her the marker. She furrowed her brow, focusing intently on her task. 

"Good job staying in the lines, love!" He said, ignoring the scribbles around the outline. "And you were right, it does tickle." 

"I know!" She laughed, giving the marker back. 

"What now?" 

"The... the heart!" She said, pointing the the small filled in shape on his upper arm. 

"Sure, that's an easy one." 

He proceeded to give her at least ten more matching "tattoos", including a cross, an anchor, a poorly drawn rose, and the green bay packers logo. 

"Daddy!" She gasped. "I have a idea!" 

"What's your idea, princess?" 

"The butterfly! On my belly!" 

"You want a butterfly on your belly?" He asked, lifting his shirt to show her his. "Like this?" 

"Yes!" She clapped. "Like that!" 

They were having the time of their lives, drawing and singing as loud as they could to all of Harry's songs. He loved watching her face every time he finished drawing. Her eyes would light up and she would pull his arm to hers, showing him how they matched. Every time a new song came on she would squeal and kick her legs because "it's my favorite song!" 

They had just finished making silly noises together at the end of "Sunflower" when Harry heard a noise. He froze with the marker on her arm, looking up quickly. 

He reached over to pause the music, holding a finger to his lips when she whined at him. He glanced at the clock, hoping he was just imagining things. You weren't supposed to be home for another hour. But no, that was definitely the sound of the front door opening, followed by your voice calling out a greeting. 

"Mommy!" Stevie shrieked, launching herself off the table. 

"No!" Harry hissed, grabbing her before she could run off. "Stevie, we have to wash this off!" 

He scooped her up, running up the stairs to the bathroom. 

"Harry?" You called out. That was weird. You could have sworn you heard them in the kitchen. "Stevie?" 

"We're- we're upstairs, love!" Harry yelled back. "Just cleaning up!" 

Cleaning what? You wondered, but didn't dwell on it for too long. It had rained recently, so they had probably gotten muddy outside. 

You made your way to the kitchen with the grocery bags, beginning to put everything away. Then you saw the box of markers. You narrowed your eyes, confused when you realized there was no paper around. What had they been drawing on? 

Up in the bathroom, Harry was starting to panic. He had set Stevie up on the counter while he was rubbing at the ink with a washcloth. 

"It's not coming off! Why isn't it coming off? The box said washable!" 

"No, don't take my mermaid!" She cried, pushing his hands away. 

"Stevie, love, I'm sorry, but we can't let mommy see these. Remember? They're secret tattoos." 

"Mommy will like them! They're nice," She pouted. 

"No, I don't think she will," Harry said, laughing nervously. "Maybe if we..." he grabbed the bottle of soap, dumping some onto the cloth. "There we are! Whew," he sighed in relief. "Good thing that worked, or daddy might have been sleeping on the couch tonight." 

Just as he was lifting her off the counter, he heard a knock at the door.

  "Harry? What are you doing in there?" 

He swung open the door, smiling charmingly. 

"Just a little cleanup! We... spilled some yogurt. Right Stevie?" 

She nodded, looking up at you innocently. 

"Ok... why were there markers all over the table, but no paper to use them on?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Uh... we were going to color, but then... the... yogurt explosion..." 

"Oh, I see," you said, still suspicious. "Stevie," you said, kneeling down to be at her eye level. "Is daddy telling the truth?" 

Harry held his breath. Stevie was notoriously bad at lying. Usually, Harry was thankful for this, but right now he could do with a little fib.

"Yes mommy, yogurt went everywhere," she said, eyes going wide as she mimicked an explosion with her hands.

You smiled, straightening up. 

"Well, I'm glad you got it cleaned up. I'm going to go put the rest of the groceries away." 

Harry exhaled as you got to the bottom of the stairs. He quickly lifted Stevie up, spinning her around. 

"Thank you, Stevie. You're such a sweetie," He said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She giggled, wiping her face and wiggling in his arms.

"Let's go see what mom bought us!" He said, bouncing her as they ran downstairs. 

Harry thought he was in the clear. He really did. He had managed to scrub off all traces of the marker, including the scribbles drawn over his own mermaid. Luckily, Stevie was true to her pinky promise and didn't say a word. She told you about how they played outside and what books they read, but said nothing about the makeshift tattoos. She was good at being sneaky.

By the time Stevie was yawning, Harry really though everything was fine. When you went to change her into her pajamas, he settled into the couch to find a movie. 

Everything is fine, he thought. You had no id-

"Harry!" You yelled from down the hall. 

He hopped up from his seat, rushing to Stevie's room. 

"What is it?" 

"Harry," you said, turning towards him slowly. "Why does our daughter have a huge butterfly drawn on her tummy?" 

So close.

[frozs]

Duplicate manuscripts from the Heroaca Exhibition in Tokyo.

I fucking love this shit. I LIVE for literally walking up to random pieces of traditional art and telling people how they created it, what medium its in, even brands of canvas because im a fucking art nerd. 

Looks like someone made a mistake and put whiteout on Shouto’s burn, and the marker ran out of ink on his fringe. I fucking love it cause its not perfect - you can see as well in the top right hand corner where they went over the screentone with a marker - a copic most likely 

I fucking love this one cause it looks like it took them like 2 minutes to do (but it didn’t because THERES A PENCIL DRAWING UNDERNEATH). Looking at this one I wouldn’t be surprised if Hori did this one himself as he does lines like this in YT vids I’ve seen. They went over the bleed lines too which means someone probably had to photoshop this down a bit 

They’ve used white out (ok more like white ink.... but its always gonna look like white out to me. that shit is gluggy) AND they’ve put a piece of paper over the comic bubble AND someones glued it in a bit too hard and pressed down, hence the print at the bottom of the bubble, AND its hand cut out screentones, like who in their right mind would want to use traditional screentones in this day and age... I once used them and went fuck no never again my knife aint that good to cut it. Same with mapping pens (What they use for outlining). Had one once and it split within five mins. 

Again its great to see this stuff, though I’m sure some of this would have had to be digitally placed in, as I’m sure this manga paper is B4 size, and if its the paper I’m thinking of then the original drawings would be an off-cream paper. It doesn’t seem to be Deleter Comic book paper either 🤔 I want one of these so badly to put on my wall.  

Original images from the Heroaca Exhibition Twitter Account 

[noonachronicles]

Monsta X S/O Reaction to Their Kink

Loosely based off of a requested by @nemesyis​ but ended up with me really just doing whatever I felt like. lol 

Warnings - As the theme is kinks, there are themes of smut. Please also note, that I took some liberties on a couple of the kinks and they are a bit on the kink lite side of things. Dacryphilia and graphoerotica are typically much more...intense, and often not as...nice. Basically I’m trying to say please be cautious, do your research, and be safe. 

Authors Note - This ended up being really long. Are reactions supposed to be this long? Did I do it wrong??

Shownu - Garters and Stocking – Many men get turned on seeing a woman in this (now) uncommon underwear.

Hyunwoo had sat down at the table to eat his ‘between lunch and dinner’ meal. Which, as you knew, meant it would be the perfect time to get ready, because nothing distracted that man from his food which meant he wouldn’t be hanging around to distract you.

You were nearly ready, hair done up in victory rolls, eyeliner winged to perfection and lipstick red as a candy apple. You’d just been pulling the stockings up your legs and clipping the garter belt when you noticed you didn’t have the main component of your outfit.

“Crap...” you muttered before walking out to the living room.

You went quickly to the couch were you’d dropped a bunch of shopping bags from your last minute shopping spree that morning. Your mind elsewhere you didn’t even notice Hyunwoo look up from his plate.

It was just a quick glance. He knew it was you when he heard the movement in the adjacent living room but he had to look up, out of habit. When his eyes dropped back down to his plate he gulped. His mouth was watering and he wasn’t sure it was just because of the fried chicken in between his fingers.

“What...what’s that?” He asked from the table.

“What’s what, baby?” You called over your shoulder, still digging in your bags.

“Your outfit.” He said putting down the chicken leg in his hand and sucking on his fingers.

“Oh.” He bit his lip as he watched you bent over the back of the couch. The subtle black seam of the stockings lining the length of your legs. “It’s my outfit for the bachelorette party! It’s swing themed, remember? I told you. I just need...aha! The dress.”

You tugged the dress from the bag and turned around. You jumped back in surprise that Hyunwoo was standing right in front of you. Your forehead creased as he eyed you hungrily, you looked around his broad shoulders to the table where he still had half of his meal waiting.

“What are you doing?” You asked curiously as he lifted his hands to your hips and pulled you closer.

“I’m hungry.” He murmured, his large hands spreading out over your legs and running down the stockings and back up again.

“Well...you didn’t finish your food so...”

“Not hungry for that.” He said simply, leaning in to kiss your neck. “Hungry for you.”

“Oh.” You fisted the dress in your hand as his mouth moved over you. “I can’t, I’ll be late.”

He hummed and kissed the tops of your breasts, his hands moving over the lacy fabric of your bra before dropping back down, “I’ll make it worth it.”

You nodded, “Okay, but... don’t mess up the hair. Promise?”

He’d lifted your leg up against his hip and was running his hand over the stockings, “Only if you promise to wear these more.”

-

Wonho - Dacryphilia - When one is aroused by tears or sobbing.

Hoseok was only half surprised when you burst angrily through his front door. For weeks he’d felt horrible. Something had been eating at him and he wasn’t sure how to explain it to you, so instead of communicating he withdrew.

“Are you breaking up with me!?” You shouted as soon as you saw him. Tears and mascara were already streaking your cheeks.

And his shoulders sank. It was happening again.  

The first time it happened the two of you had been cuddled on the couch after dinner watching Goblin. For you it was the third time through because you couldn’t get enough of it and he was watching because he couldn’t say no to you.

There was a particularly emotional scene playing and he couldn’t bare to watch it, knowing he’d probably cry. Instead he turned his gaze to you. That’s when it happened. You’d already been crying, tears clung to your lashes and streaked your cheeks. He thought you looked beautiful. He was in love with your emotion, your passion. So much that he felt a familiar stirring in his shorts. He instantly felt like a monster! How could he be aroused by your tears? Just the idea of you being upset broke his heart, so he shook it off as residual arousal from earlier and tried to forget it.

The second time had been different.

You’d been laying in your bed together. You were reading a book and he’d been working on music and both of you were taking breaks in between for a little kissing and heavy petting. It was an accident really. He’d been sliding his fingers over your skin when he hit a sensitive spot on your side. When you jolted with a laugh he couldn’t help himself. He had to tickle you more and before either of you knew it, you were crying with laughter. Tears streaming  out of your eyes as you gasped out for air. It happened again, the stirring in his stomach. After that he found it hard to be around you. Just... in case.

“Answer me! Are you breaking up with me?” You asked again.

“I like when you cry!” He confessed.

You stepped back, “What?!”

“I don’t like when you’re sad or upset!” he specified, “Just...when you cry...you’re so beautiful. It’s...sexy.”

“What do you mean it’s sexy?”

“I know it’s weird. It’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” He looked deflated.

Looking over at him you noticed the bulge in his shorts and raised your eyebrows, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yes. I don’t know why it’s happening.”

“You think...you think I look sexy right now?” He nodded and you looked over at the mirror hanging on the wall and quickly turned away in disgust of your hot mess reflection, “Ugh god... seriously? I look like a sad, crazy panda.”

“No!” He stepped in front of you and cupped your cheek. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“Hoseok. This is so weird.” You muttered skeptically.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“So you’re really not breaking up with me?”

“No! I was worried you were going to break up with me.” He was a little worried you still might. “I love you...”

You sighed, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked.

“I love you too and as weird as this is... it could have been something weirder I suppose.” you shrugged.

He leaned in and kissed you hard, his arms wrapped around you, nearly lifting you off the ground. He was so relieved. When you had two feet solidly back on the ground you pulled back and looked at him. He’d really been so worried, in retrospect you found it almost amusing.

“There’s like...twenty more episodes of Goblin.” You whispered against his lips.

“Of course! We can do anything you want, for the rest of our lives, whatever you want. Anything to make up for this.” he said enthusiastically.

“No...I mean,” you ran your fingers up from his chest to his neck, “There’s like twenty more episodes of Goblin and every single one of them makes me cry.”

-

Hyungwon - Graphoerotica - Writing words on someone’s body.

You didn’t get a lot of dates with your boyfriend, as he was a very busy man, so when he asked if you wanted to be his date to a charity event you jumped at the chance. Being around so many celebrities made you just a tad anxious so when you found the clicky pen at the bottom of the swag bag they handed out at the door when you came in you held it like a lifeline in one hand while you held Hyungwon’s hand in the other.

He walked you around the party and introduced you to the people he knew and himself to some people he didn’t know yet. He’d met a producer that was interested in his dj/solo work and needed somewhere to take down his phone number. You’d left your phones at the table so you offered him the pen.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked staring down at the pen.

“Write it on your hand...”

He pouted at you slightly and you stuck your palm out with a roll of your eyes. With a small smile he quickly wrote down the number of the producer. Afterwards he looked down at the ink on your skin and hummed thoughtfully before dropping the pen in your hand and going back to his conversation. Leaving you to think nothing of it.

A couple of days later you’d been laying in bed next to one another. Hyungwon was taking a nap and you’d been doing a crossword puzzle when you’d fallen asleep too. When you woke up Hyungwon was missing, likely in the kitchen getting food. Looking down at your arm you realized there was a mark that you thought had just been from knocking into the pen in your sleep. However upon closer review you realized Hyungwon had written ‘Hi Cutie :)’ on your arm. With a small smirk you let it go.

A week after that he’d invited you to the studio. He’d been there for days and missed you like crazy and you’d been more than willing to visit him. You sat on the couch talking to Jooheon about some of the collaborations he’d done on his latest mixtape while Hyungwon sat on the ground between your legs going over some checklists with Shownu. After awhile you felt the wet tip of the marker Hyungwon had been using press against your bare thigh.

“What are you doing?” You asked looking down at him.

He looked up at you innocently as he could, “nothing.”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed trying to look at what he’d drawn but he had covered it up under his large hands. “What are you drawing?”

He shrugged cutely, “Just a turtle.”

“You’re so weird.” You said ruffling his hair with your hand before going back to your conversation with Jooheon as he continued his drawing.

Maybe ten minutes passed when you felt Hyungwon press a kiss against your thigh before getting up to record his part of the song. You didn’t think about it. You didn’t think about the drawing until Jooheon looked down at your leg and chuckled.

“Point made hyung.” He laughed.

You looked down to see he had drawn a turtle like he said, only inside of the turtle he’d written ‘Property of Chae Hyungwon. Don’t Touch’. Your face reddened in embarrassment and you told Jooheon to tell Hyungwon his property took herself home.

When he arrived home later he slinked into the bedroom like guilty puppy waiting to be reprimanded. He was surprised to find you sitting on the edge of the mattress in his favorite lingerie. He stepped between your knees and looked down to see his art from earlier still on your skin.

“You didn’t wash it off yet?” he noted, dragging his finger over the ink.

You shook your head. “I kind of liked it. I like being yours Hyungwon...maybe just not in front of your friends like that.”

“You do?” he grinned.

Lifting your hand you offered him a more easily washable marker. “Do your worst.”

-

Minhyuk - Body Painting – Painting bodies, treating the skin as a human canvas.

Minhyuk and you had been dating for awhile now. He’d been a very ambitious lover since your very first time together, which you always appreciated from him. Recently, within the last few weeks, you’d just felt so comfortable with him. Really loved, like you could confess anything to him and he wouldn’t run away. So you had been. You told him all the weird little things you were into and he tried every single one of them for you with as much or more enthusiasm as you could have wished for.

One night, laying in bed, you watched him move under the blankets and realized that he’d been so understanding of your kinks and you’d never tried any of his. He’d been leaving little bruises on your hips and stomach with his mouth when you tore the blanket from him. He’d already left little love marks on your thighs and chest.

“Everything okay, Jagi?” He asked wide eyed as his head popped up.

“I just missed you.” You grinned, “Come back.”

With a bright smile he moved back up the bed to give you a proper kiss. After a moment you pulled away and gave him a smile.

“Minnie...” you whispered against his mouth, “what do you like?”

“I like you, Jagi.” He said giving you a quick kiss.

You laughed, “No, baby, I mean...what do you like? We’ve tried all the stuff I like. Isn’t there anything you want to do? Something you’d like us to try?”

He thought about it for a moment, his gaze moving passed you as he cyphered through his thoughts. There was a hint of excitement in his eyes but he quickly let it go before looking down at you and shaking his head.

“No. I like what you like.” he answered.

You frowned. “You don’t trust me? Are you...uncomfortable with me?”

“No!” He said reassuringly. “It’s just not a big deal.”

“Tell me, please?”

He sighed, “I guess...I’ve really only thought about it a couple times but, I’d like to...paint you.”

“Like one of your French girls?” You joked.

With a small smile he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“Well,” you sat up next to him, “tell me what you mean. We can try it.”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he jumped up enthusiastically, “okay!”

He left the room for a moment but was back quickly with an armful of paints and a hand full of brushes. Before long he had you lying on your back while he sat on the tops of your thighs. His tongue was sticking cutely out of the side of his mouth as he ran his brush over your abdomen a few more times perfecting his oceanscape. As he looked down at you his chest puffed with pride.

“See? No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. Between not being able to move beneath him and the gentle, wet strokes of his brushes you were trembling. Goosebumps lined your skin and your nipples had been so sensitive from when he painted them that every pass of cool air over the wet paint felt like the flick of his tongue and it was driving you insane.

“Was it horrible?” He grinned. Trailing his fingertip over the spots on your skin that had already dried. You shook your head silently as his hand reached the moist, heated fabric between your thighs. “Oh? I think you liked it quite a bit actually.”

You gasped as his fingers moved under the fabric of your panties and your back arched off the bed. Quickly his other hand was on your hip pushing you back down against the mattress.

“Don’t move.” He commanded, and your jaw dropped at the way his eyes moved over you, “It’s not dry yet. You don’t want to ruin it.”

-

Kihyun - Intelligence Fetish – Sexual arousal from intellectually stimulating conversation or debates.

Kihyun knew you were smart. It was one of the things that had immediately attracted him to you. Your intellect, your sense of humor, your good heart. He just hadn’t realized at first how much your intelligence attracted him to you, and the specific ways it affected him. He didn’t put much thought into the fact that after every debate over politics, every argument about some new scientific development or even little heated conversations about which group had a better comeback this week, he had to have you.

In fairness, though you were smart, you hadn’t put two and two together either. You always figured it was just adrenaline from another hot debate. The thrill of the argument maybe. That and the fact that Kihyun had, surprising to you when you first got together, a sex drive like a machine.

Realization hit him at a truly inopportune moment. The two of you had been having dinner out at a restaurant with Hyungwon and his most recent partner. The four of you had been in a mild conversation that was quickly turning into a heated, yet friendly, debate between you and Hyungwon. At first Kihyun just sat back, enjoying listening to your passionate opinions, agreeing with most everything you said. He was certain you were going to come out on top. You were so quick witted and clever. Even against a professional sass and back talker like Hyungwon.

As time passed, with every new point you brought up there was a new surge of blood to his dick until he was swollen and uncomfortable in his dress pants. He was a little confused by his arousal as you weren’t even arguing with him. He had no skin in the game. He didn’t really even care about what you guys were talking about if he was being honest. Still, here he was, wanting you. Needing you.

He adjusted himself in his seat and an accidental groan escaped his lips. You looked over at him and sighed.

“We should stop. This must be so boring for these two.” You said referring to your dates.

Hyungwon just shrugged, “Already giving up. I expected more from you, y/n.”

“Keep going.” Kihyun muttered from his seat. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?” Turning back to him you raised an eyebrow, “I feel bad. You haven’t exactly been involved in the debate.”

Reaching down you placed a kind hand on his thigh, this time both eyebrows shot up. He just nodded, “Please...destroy him.”

“Okay.” You said with a blush and turned back to your opponent.

It didn’t take much more time at all, maybe ten more minutes of excruciating fore play, before it was clear the argument was yours. Hyungwon conceded with his pride still intact. And the two of you laughed over the whole thing as Kihyun pulled his wallet from his too-tight pants. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, honestly he just needed to use you as a way to hide his obvious erection.

“I don’t mean to be rude, please don’t take it that way. I had a lovely night,” he said dropping a wad of cash on the table, “If that’s not enough let me know and I’ll get you more later but we need to leave. Now.”

With that he maneuvered you through the restaurant like a bank robber using a teller as a human shield.

You barely heard Hyungwon call out, “Thanks for dinner, Young Flexer!”

Luckily you did hear and you laughed. You laughed again as Kihyun pushed you a little more aggressively and said, “Please, just keep walking I can’t wait any longer.”

-

Jooheon - Wax Play – Play with dripping hot wax on the skin.

The power had been out all day. It felt like you’d been taken back to medieval times once your uncharged phones finally perished. Some of it was nice. Just being with your boyfriend, Jooheon. No interruptions, no social media, no work. It was just the two of you and some much needed alone time together.

He was already pretty turned on. You’d been grinding on his lap for about fifteen minutes worth of make out session by candlelight. He whined when you pulled away, releasing his thick swollen lip with a pop.

“Give me two seconds.” you said, “I really have to pee.”

“Hurry.” He begged.

“I will!” You promised and reached over hurriedly to grab one of the candles next to the couch to take with you to the dark bathroom.

When you turned to get off of him you did so with a little too much enthusiasm and some of the wax from the candle splashed out over the rim and splattered across his chest.

“Oh fuck me!” He cried out.

You stopped everything to tend to him. “I’m sorry, Honey! Oh my god, baby are you okay?”

He watched as you blew on the wax to try and cool it quicker so you could peel it off his skin and as you did he realized that it didn’t exactly feel that bad. It was mostly just shock from the unexpected.

You gently rubbed the pinked skin, and pressed sweet kisses against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Honey. Please forgive me!”

“Babe, it’s fine.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m okay. Just go to the bathroom. I swear I’m not upset, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m still so sorry.” You whispered, you were shaking at the sight of how pink his skin still was.

“You’re okay. I’m okay.” He reassured you, “Now go, and hurry back. Just carefully this time.”

You did as he said and disappeared from the room. When you did he gulped and looked over at the other candle burning on the side table before picking it up. He looked back towards the doorway and then quickly dipped his fingertip into the liquid. The sensation sent a pleasurable chill down his spine.

You’d just walked into the door after work a few days later, long after the power had come back on and everything went back to normal. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off your shoes. You were absentmindedly sorting through the mail from the mailbox when you noticed the bag on the counter.

Curious as a cat you peeked into the plastic bag and immediately your brow creased. It was candles. A lot of candles. Picking up the bag and dropping the mail you made your way into the bedroom where Jooheon was sitting up in bed, his laptop sitting on his legs and his glasses falling off his nose.

“Honey...” you said from the doorway.

He looked up and smiled at you. “Jagi.”

You lifted the plastic bag at your side, “Expecting a sudden surge of blackouts?”

He laughed and shook his head, “Did you know you have to use a low temperature burning candle for safe wax play during sex?”

“Excuse me?” you choked out.

“Do you want to try it with me?” He asked enthusiastically, his dimple digging deep into his cheek. How could you say no?

-

Changkyun - Exhibitionism - Becoming aroused by the idea of being seen by others, or by the thrill of being caught.

As long as you had known him and in every aspect of your relationship, Changkyun was a limit pusher. He liked to find your line between acceptance and disapproval and then just inch by inch see how far he could move it until he was really in trouble with you. This meant you were both incredibly comfortable with him at all times and uncomfortable, in general, most times. And the fact that he was a bit of an exhibitionist was not a surprise to you. He’d given you about a hundred  breadcrumbs along the path to what would be his eventual end game. 

When you first got together it was hand holding. Were you okay with light PDA? Then it was kissing. First on the hand or the cheek. Then gentle nuzzles against your neck, his leg over your lap. It was cute, you thought,  like a baby koala. Needy and clingy. You didn’t mind at all and everyone else in his life seemed used to the behaviors too.

Then he went a step further. Kissing in front of the others. Not cute, sweet kisses like before. Real kisses. Tongue between your teeth, irrepressible moaning, gentle groping. Kisses that left you flushed and frantically needing him alone afterwards. While he sat smugly beside you. Visibly unbothered by the heat bubbling between you and unconcerned about the disapproving eyes of his hyungs.

Next was a big leap. Miles outside of your comfort zone. Though, somehow, Changkyun had a charisma that made the discomfort more thrilling than anything else so you went with it. 

It was movie night  at the dorms and you’d been snuggled up together in the couch like usual. Changkyun had been whiny and needy all evening begging for you to feed him snacks while held onto you like a sloth on a tree branch. Sometimes it was sweet, when he held you. Warm and cozy. Somewhere about mid movie you could physically feel a shift in him. When you looked over to his face you saw the deviant look in his eye and the evil grin that crossed his lips.

You cleared your throat as he leaned in and kissed your clavicle. You’d been so distracted you didn’t even feel his hand snake between your bodies until it was much too late. You gasped loudly at a scene that absolutely didn’t call for it and several of the others turned to look at you in surprise. Changkyun gave his best sweet boy smile, and everyone went back to the movie.

“Don’t.” You murmured as his fingers teased your panty line.  

“Please.” he begged.

You let out a slow breath and nodded. With your permission he slipped his fingers between your slick lips. He dragged his wet fingers back up and rubbed them slowly against your hardened rosebud.

“Kyun...” you whispered, panicked, “they’re gonna know.”

“They don’t know shit.” He whispered back before leaving a loud smooch against your cheek and turning back to the movie.

You bit your lip hard as he pumped his fingers into you, the heel of his palm, pressing heavy against your clit. After a few minutes all it really took was looking over at the dark look in his eyes and you were putty.

Wide eyed you mouthed, “I’m gonna cum.”

With a broad, amused smile he mouthed back, “I know!”

He was laughing as your head rolled back, and your toes curled beneath the blanket you’d been sharing. At least for him the laughter went appropriately with the film. Once you’d ridden your orgasm out on his fingers he pulled his hand from between your legs and grinned mischievously.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“I want some popcorn...” he laughed reaching into the bowl.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, mortified, as he came back to snuggle against you.

“I love you.” He grinned.

“You’re evil.” you sighed in defeat before getting up to replace the popcorn.

[channoticedmeuwu]

AyYyY YOO WAIT WHAT- WAIT IM WATCHING MHA TOO RN- I mean I watched the first 3 ran out of time BUT LIKE I STILL KEEP UP WITH IT cuz one of my irl friends is a MHA stan- and kdrama mygod I have way too much man- I’m not even joking I tried making a list and it’s like WHOO I cant even paste it it’s way too long and omg I tried calligraphy man but it just looks like chicken scratch but with a hint of ✨ colour ✨ lmaofuckimrunningOutOfSpaceAgainIfItsNotTooMuchForYouToDropTheMaterialsThenPlsDo!-🥴

BDJDBDJDV A FRIEND OF MINE WATCHES MHA TOO

Calligraphy tips under the cut!

calligraphy and lettering tips :

okay so, to start from scratch, I used sticks (yes, you read that right. I'll get into that later) to do calligraphy. Then I switched to a brushpen after I got a hang of it. I used around 3 months to practice, after which I moved onto brushpen. The pens I use are the tombow dual brushpens, and the tombow hard-tip and soft-tip pens.

A brush tip is like a brush, the more pressure you put, the thicker the line you draw. The lesser you put, the thinner it gets.

If you know cursive, it'll be easier for you to write in calligraphy, tho if you don't, you don't have to learn it first, only practice the way you'll write your letters. I can't do cursive, and still can't lmao. My letters look like this

a good exercise to practice when you're a complete beginner is the wave practice. Like I explained earlier, the brushpen makes lines depending on how much pressure you apply. When you make upper strokes, (start from the bottom and drag up), you must apply less pressure in order to get a thin line. When you make lower strokes, (start from the top and drag down) you must apply more pressure than you did last time to get a thick line.

Then, you basically mush it together in a wave. Like this !

tombow dual brushpens :

• Notes and tips : my pen, the tombow dual brushpen, looks like this. This one is color #453. It has a normal marker at the back, and the brushpen in front. I personally recommend this one, the tip never wears out, which is a problem some cheap brushpens have.

• Price and where to find : I got these pens in a pack of 10 off of Amazon, I believe I got the pastel color pack. It was for around $24.

Tombow hard-tip and soft-tip pens :

• notes and tips : this one is way smaller, and I got these in black. They give a more solid lettering. The hard-tip is easier as it offers a more firmer approach. Soft-tip is more free. Both are equally good for lettering.

• price and where to find them : I got these off of Amazon too. They came in the same pack for $5. Pretty cheap and really worth it.

• sticks :

Tips and notes : Now, I used these sticks for practice, to get a hang of the way I form my letters, and to learn HOW to do calligraphy. This doesn't have any flexibility, (ofc because it's a piece of wood), but it'll help you form your letters, which will make it simpler when you change to brush. I dipped them in ink/paint + water and lettered.

pens look like this, and my calligraphy when I used them looked like this

The trick with these ones is that you have to use the the whole cut of the stick to letter (for thicker strokes) and use only the top tip to letter (for thin strokes)

It sounds complicated, but it's not. The tip of this also replicates a highlighter, so if you know how to work with these, you can do calligraphy with highlighters and pens with slanted tips too!

• Price and where to find them : I found these from my local stationary store, for less than a dollar. They had 5 in a pack. Try looking for them! I really recommend getting a hand of your letters before you move onto the strokes.

For my spreads alone : I use pictures printed out from my printer, these brushpens for titles, a silver gel pen to make some things pop by highlighting or adding effects on the letters, and some washi tape! I also used random paper, like newspaper, scrap paper, card paper, old book pages, magazine paper, LITERALLY ANYTHING to make my spreads. I've even used real flowers from my garden, which I pressed into my book so I could get a stamp type sample. It sounds like a hastle, so you can always start off simple, and then get more detailed! It's not hard, but really fun! Play some music in the background too!

I personally have heard alot about aliexpress, so do consider browsing it for any supplies you may like!

some YouTubers that helped me start a journal and learn calligraphy : @mihan, @Amanda RachLee, @honeymilks, @iwazumin, @justinebujo, @milkcloud and some others you can browse!

Last tip : some spreads may be good and absolutely beautiful! Some may be a little on the satisfactory side. Don't let that discourage you! Always take a break, drink a cup of tea, rest your hands and breathe, and start over! It's absolutely fun!

Good luck, love! I'm rooting for you!

[stragglewort]

Ghoul Parade -- “5.) Car Trouble”

Picture by StreetWill.co, “1970s car grill, headlights.” - 2016

__________________________________________________

      He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of that hissing, inhumane something that had just invaded his thoughts or of his own friend. He’d seen magic tricks before, hell, he’d done magic tricks before. But what James did was nothing like his Mr. Magical pocket guides had ever described. He had half a mind to feel for fishing wire.

        “I think you should sit down.”James chimed.

        “I’m… apt to agree.” His voice shook and he staggered back to the chair, slumping into it. The sulfur smell had disappeared, but it was still horribly fresh in his mind. “You have my attention.”

        A wash of relief spread over James’ face. He also sat down, slicking back his hair as he let out a heavy, drawn-out breath. “You don’t understand how glad I am to hear that. I’ve never actually trapped anything like this before, and I wasn’t excited to try it on you.” He stopped and stared for a moment. “An actual vampire – look at you! You have all the signs!” His lips pursed. “...Most of the signs. You were attacked, you died –”

        “I didn’t die.”

        “Exactly! You should’ve, but you didn’t. Oh gods, Jo – don’t give me that face – I don’t want to be forced to prove this to you.”

        Something about James��� stoic urgency rattled him. Though rattled didn’t mean passive. “We’re not just glossing over whatever the hell that was.” He threw his hand to the slammed door.

        “That was magic.”

        His voice was monotone. “It’s something that’s been here long enough that most of us have forgotten about it. So long that those who do figure it out tend to get unreasonably shunned.”

        “…Okay?”

        “It’s in and around everything – wait, wait –“ He scrambled around the table, grabbing a torn bit of scratch paper and an old permanent marker. He took a split-second to think, biting the marker cap before a realization dawned on him. “Most magic is inside us living things; it’s the energy that makes us work or escapes when these hunks of meat die off –“

        “…’Hunks of meat?” Joshua Interrupted.

        He ignored it. “There are some more lucky than me who can wear that magic on their sleeves – like you!“ He said it so quickly Joshua didn’t quite catch it. “Now, I’ve learned most humanoid creatures with all these tend to come from a pact… or a sire. Those who weren’t created, though, were taught - like me.” He spoke quickly, excitedly, while he scratched the last segments of a strange line-littered circle on the paper. “Even though everything has magic, not everything has the means to access it. We went on to better, easier things. Electricity, lightbulbs and… staplers. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You just need the right push, the right set of markings and the perfect focus to –“ He held the sheet up, a finished circle of odd, archaic markings drawn on its surface. Though there wasn’t much time to process the shapes before James gripped it in his hands, a glowing purple flame sparked from the bottom and curled up the fibers, eating the paper away in its wake. The flame morphed into itself, rising into a warbling purple orb that lit up the table like some strange candle. “… To draw it out.”

        “That’s fantastic. How did you figure this out? How do you do it?” Joshua whispered, drawing his hands to the orb. It was cold.

        “Practice? Books? Listening to the wise, raving rants of lunatics on the street? I’m confined to the runes on paper, or the runes in my room.” He motioned to the ritual circle out in the corner. “I can do mostly anything I want with that thing here – otherwise the ink’s my best friend.” He gave a coy, disingenuous grin. “Other than you, of course.”

        He was still stunned by the glittering orb. “…What’s this have to do with Lottie and I, then?” He asked, distracted.

        “Everything!” James’ voice got loud, and he slammed a hand down on the table (which startled Joshua to no end). The small light flickered and died, fuzzing out of existence the second James raised his voice. “You’re magic, she’s magic, we’re all magic and you’re just now figuring it out.”

        Joshua’s eyes darted around the room. Looking to the ritual circle, the blank spot of air where the orb had been, then to James, who looked strangely calm. “This is insane.”

        “Yeah, I coped with that years ago.”

        He sighed. He didn’t like being so quickly swayed but undoubtedly, he had been. “I’m all ears.”

        “Good. Now, about the vampirism. We need to find another one. Someone who might explain all of this better than I can.“ Honestly, James knew only the bare truth about it all. He knew enough to realize their existence and spot one from a crowd, but other than that he’d never gotten the chance for a proper conversation. There was this pang of something in the back of his mind that regretted using Joshua as his doorway into the world of the unliving – but the opportunity had been served to him on a Styrofoam platter. He wasn’t going to pass it up.

        “Another one…?” The words came out nervous, though he agreed having some insight on the matter would be convenient (even if he only bearing the slim chance James was wrong).  “What about Lottie?”

        “What about her? You said she ran off.”

        “I mean, sure she did – but if I’m a vampire –“ It would never feel right to say that word genuinely. “That means she’d be one too, yeah? She might even know where we can find an… I don’t know, an older one?” He felt like he was speaking gibberish. He knew what he was trying to say but barely had the words to describe it. “Can’t you find her with your… uh –“ He motioned to the burnt remnants of the paper James had drawn on. “Your runes?”

        “I can’t just tell the universe to track one of every species in a certain –“ He stopped, realization striking him. “You’re both dead.”

        “Excuse me?”  

        “Jo, you genius. You’re both dead! That not a species, that a state of mind!” He exclaimed excitedly, his hand grabbing for a coat he never took off as he rushed out the door. “Come on – I know what we need to do.”

        Joshua watched as James bolted out the room. “Uh – you left your –“ James had disappeared through the labyrinth of storage totes. He sighed, grabbing the papers and marker off the table and wandered out after him. He wasn’t in any state to go running. By the time he made it out the cellar doors, James had already gotten to the other side of the short parking lot and started the car.

        He slipped awkwardly into the passenger’s seat – “Alright, wh –” He was taken off guard as James snatched the marker from his hands and uncapped it, drawing suddenly in a scramble of black, inky markings. “What are you doing to my steering wheel?”

        James lifted his head to meet his friend’s, his hand freezing about halfway through a short semi-circle on the center pad. “Something… useful?”

        “Please don’t draw on my car!”

        “Too late!” He finished the circle with a final flick then swiped at Jo’s hand, grabbing his wrist before pausing, “I need to borrow this, do you mind?”

        “I uh –“ Whatever he was going to say got interrupted as James threw his hand onto the wheel, blaring the horn for a few seconds. If it hadn’t been for everything else that had happened, he would’ve thought he was going blind or mad as James started to murmur under his breath, the marker stains on the pleather wheel shimmering in response. It lit up in a blueish-grey hue that reminded him of something like a newly-broken glowstick. After a few more seconds the blinkers started flickering, the headlights winked, and even the reading lights went wacky as the whole car threw itself into an electrical nightmare. “What are you doing to my car?” He instinctively tried to pull his hand away from the jittering mess, but James held it in place.

        “I’m going to need you to stay put, yeah?” He sounded somewhat finicky, like he was desperately trying to focus. It seemed he only needed to ask out of politeness as barely a second later Jo found he was stuck to the wheel. It was like he’d been glued. “If I use your signature… your ah – “ His voice hitched as his grip got a bit tighter on Jo’s hand. In-tandem the car started shaking and a low electrical buzz hummed through the air, filling their ears. It felt like chaos contained to the inside of an old station wagon. “Your – it’s like a magic fingerprint.”

        “An… aura?” Joshua was really trying to come to terms with all the new information.

        “Yeah, if you want to be cliché about it.” He laughed, a bit shakily. “We might be able to find more of you. Usually I’d do this to a map or something.”

        “Wh– why didn’t you?” He asked, frazzled, his free hand now gripping the grab-handle in a desperate attempt not to get shaken into the floor.

        “You’ve got better car insurance than I have money for a new phone.” If anyone were looking from the outside-in, they’d find the vehicle practically hopping. Jittering and buzzing in its parking space, it lifted off the ground like a helium balloon getting pulled by some kid tugging at its string. It didn’t help when the alarm started to go.

        “What are you doing, stop it!”

        “It’s going to work. Just give it a little more – Ha!”

        Jo was about to continue snapping at his friend, but the car – in a split, unhesitating second went still. They fell back into their seats, his hand still stuck to the wheel and James’ still planted firmly on-top, keeping him there where the magic couldn’t. The only sound left from the commotion being the blinker, queuing them for a left turn. James laughed, shakily, but triumphantly. “I can’t believe I wasn’t lying.” He said in a near whisper.  

        “What?”

        “I’m not saying that could’ve completely destroyed your car, I’m just saying that it was either going to work, or you’d need a new dash.” He slicked back his long hair, fingers getting caught between some stray curls, and let out a sigh.

        When James’ grip loosened, Jo tried to pull his palm off the horn. It still wouldn’t budge. “I… I still can’t move.” He stuttered, tugging at his arm. He couldn’t help but notice how the blinker would crackle every time he tried to pull away. It didn’t feel as much like glue then as it did tendrils; something invisible and threadlike holding his hand to the center pad in a death grip.

        “Obviously. I haven’t dismissed you yet.” James said as if it were something completely nonchalant. “Now if you can keep still, we might be able to find your secretary. See? She’s somewhere… left.”

        “…Right.” Joshua leaned back as far as his reach would let him.

        “No, left.” James laughed, and then promptly quieted when he realized he was the only one laughing.  

        They pulled out of the parking lot (which was a much more hectic task than that would imply). With Jo’s hand firmly planted to the wheel, James had to practically drive over him to get the car turning. He got pulled in every direction as they swerved from turn to sidestreet – a U-turn here and an ­‘Oh, that wasn’t the right way’ there. With every road they took the blinker would shift, change, and point them in whatever direction it decided they needed to go.

        Everyone else on the road must’ve loved them.

        There was a distinct effort made to follow every other traffic law in a desperate attempt not to get pulled over. Magic tends to be something of a guessing game when melded haphazardly with human mechanics – cars weren’t made for tracking rituals. But they figured out quickly enough the rules it had set up for itself. Left and right were obvious; when it sped up on its own, revving and whirring like some racer, they figured that meant go forward; when it stalled to halt in the middle of the road, they figured that meant turn around. Stop lights were the most fun, though. James found himself pedal-to-the-metal on the brakes trying to keep the car in place while Jo was leaned halfway over the arm rest, practically in the driver’s seat. He’d made eye contact with more than a few other drivers who couldn’t help but peek at the blinking, swerving commotion. They were on the road for at least an hour just trying to decipher the directions taking them only god knew where. Jo was just thankful it wasn’t some blood-ritual-sacrificing-something-or-another. At least, he was sure he wasn’t bleeding.

        After some time they clattered, blinked, and veered their way into the lot of a tall apartment complex nestled tightly between a stretch of buildings. Grey and dreary, only highlighted in spurts by bright window decorations. There were some colorful flags and curtains here, some potted plants there, all of it giving life to the brutal concrete. Though, there wasn’t any time to appreciate the resident’s decorative taste as Jo found himself convinced the car was about to explode. It bounced and clicked, the blinkers going off at random while the headlights flashed.

        “I think we might’ve found the place!” James laughed, gripping the steering wheel like an anchor.

        Jo wasn’t in much of a talking mood. He was almost sure his shoulder was going to dislocate with how the car tossed. His free hand scrambling, he shot for the key and turned it in a frantic attempt to shut the whole thing down. With the ignition off, the buzzing hummed to a low murmur, the bouncing settled, and it all came to a somewhat reasonable state. Though the charmed shimmering of magic was still faintly speckled over the metal and across the pleather, leaving faint, fluttering traces. The tendril-like grip on Jo’s hand finally loosened, though he didn’t seem to notice. He instead just sat there catching up with his heart rate – or, no – he could hear a heart pounding in his ears, but it didn’t feel like his. Instead, his eyes tracked the noise to James, to his chest, he could almost hear a rush of something under his skin behind his cut laughter. He sat there for a moment, entranced, his mouth opened slightly and realized the air suddenly tasted savory – heavy.

        “You… you can move your hand now.” James wove his arm out of their tangle and sat back into the seat. Jo shook his head, as if he were clearing some abstract etch-a-sketch of thought and pulled away, slowly.

        “Yeah, sure – I –“ He sat himself primly into the chair and stared forward, it felt like his mind was swimming. “Where are we?”

        “Hollow Oaks Apartment Complex, apparently.” James read off some sign set up a few feet away from them. “Does your secretary live here?”

        “I… I don’t know, I’ve never asked.”

        “Wow! You’re terrible at the secret office romance thing, you know that? Where on earth have you been sending her flowers to?”

        “Nowhere!” He started, shifting in his seat. It was a little annoying, but the banter did something to clear his head. “I don’t send her flowers.”

        “Right… you’re more of a chocolate guy, I should’ve guessed.” He cracked his knuckles and moved for the door. “Well come on, we can’t find the supernatural sitting down.”

__________________________________________________

[tiakennedy-beecher]

Marble flooring:

I would like to have marble floor in my pop-up shop as I like the clean, polished look of them. To achieve this affect I will print out an image of marble on paper to place at the bottom of a cardboard box which is where my visual merchandising will be situated. I want to have white walls as I feel that if the walls were to be that of my colour palette the space would become too dark and would have to heavily rely on artificial light. Furthermore, I believe it would be quite tacky to have such coloured walls within a high end fashion store. Not to mention the fact that green walls are known to make some sick.

Spiral staircase:

I would like to have a spiral staircase in my pop-up shop as I like the sophisticated look of them. In addition to this, they are also the centre point or central piece within a room. To achieve this affect I will use cardboard and lollipop sticks.

Rugs:

Paired with the minimalist colour of the flooring and walls I believe that red, blue and green rugs would go well with my aesthetic as it will add pops of colour while not being too overwhelming. I will make this by either printing out an image of rugs on paper to place within the shop floor of my visual merchandise in a box.

Wooden furnishings:

I believe that wooden furnishings with details of gold would go well with the aesthetic by adding some balance due to the neutral shades. I will make display cases by using cardboard, lollipop sticks and paint.

Sofas:

I want to make a sofas or my shop to fill up space and allow customers an area to sit and relax while receiving a luxury experience like none else. Customers will be able to receive a range of beverages and food while waiting for their products. I could make this out of styrofoam and felt or velvet material along with wooden dowels or toothpicks for legs.

Large frameless mirror:

I would like to add a large frameless mirror as it gives the effect of more space by opening up the room. It also will allow customers to see how they look. I will make this out of cardboard wrapped in tin (aluminium) foil. I would also like to add large windows too allow natural light in as it would bring out the natural tones within the store.

Visual Merchandising in a Box Plan

I have designed and planned ideas for my visual merchandising in a box. I have created a plan by collecting images of various items and products that visually represent how I envision my pop up shop to look. I have designed and created my own visual merchandising in a box.

Visual Merchandising in a Box

I have created my own visual merchandising in a box for my brand by making a pop-up shop. I have done this using a cardboard box, glue and scissors. I created the mirrors by cutting out a rectangle out of cardboard and folding aluminum foil around it and gluing it down to secure it. I then made the wooden furnishings by cutting out a series of rectangle out of cardboard and gluing them on top of each other and using a golden permanent marker to create the gold details. I made the rugs by cutting out a square out of cardboard and colouring it in with a coloured permanent marker. I made the coffee tables by cutting out a series of circles and rectangles out of cardboard and gluing them on top of each other using a golden permanent marker to create the gold details. Finally, I made the sofas by drawing out a series of circles and a square half way down the circles onto cardboard and gluing them on top of each other. I then did the same thing for the armrest of the sofa the only difference was that I made a 1cm boarder creating a cutaway. Finally, using a coloured permanent marker to fill in the colour.  I have faced problems and challenges while completing my visual merchandising in a box (such as creating the spiral staircase). However, I overcame them by cutting the cardboard at an angle and using a cylinder shape to bend the cardboard into shape. I also had difficulties with the flooring as my printer ran out off ink. However, I drew rough, quick squiggles using a pencil onto plain paper to create the marble effect. I believe that my visual merchandising in a box works well as it has allowed me to showcase my ideal pop-up shop. I need to further adapt my visual merchandising in a box by possibly using bigger box as I felt that I had to scale down my design. Luxury fashion stores are usually quite large and have over two floors. I wanted to communicate this with my designs to the full extent that I wanted to. Unfortunately, I was not able to do so as I had to use materials that were available to me.

[bubmyg]

paperweight - knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: coworkers!au, f2l, fluff, lots of dialog in which i attempt to be funny

word count: 1,961

summary: hoseok rigs the secret santa so namjoon will stop staring at you every time you walk across the office to fill your water or where you get a dress that’s entirely too expensive to fit the office secret santa budget but find that the dinner that’s supposed to accompany it fits the thirty dollar limit, the dress is just extra

a/n: part 4 of my holiday series! as always, if u need the masterlist of the series, let me know bc tumblr is dumb and links don’t show up!!!

“Why did you email to come over here? My desk is like two office blocks away. You could have just yelled if you wanted to talk about—”

Hoseok took a stapler to the stomach, the nearest thing to Namjoon’s clammy hand clasped over his mouse. He caught the hunk of metal with a wheezing laughter, collecting himself enough to place it down without stapling his polo to his stomach.

“Do you have a volume setting I’m unaware of?” The younger hissed.

The red haired man straightened proudly, fingers tucking into his front pockets.

“Nope!”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped, arm lazily waving his friend closer in some sort of knowing defeat. “So, we have a problem.”

“What?” Hoseok cocked his chin, “You don’t have the balls to do it anymore?”

“I didn’t have the balls to do it in the first place,” He grumbled. His office chair squeaked as he rolled around, ducking underneath his desk long enough to snatch a flimsy gift box before pushing the end against Hoseok’s chest, “I especially don’t have the balls to give her this.”

“It’s not lingerie, is it?” Hoseok plucked open one end with his thumb, eyeing Namjoon seriously, “Joon, c’mon—”

The red haired man paused upon dipping a hand within the cardboard, fingers grasping over something silky. The dress came in cascading pleats of fabric, pooling up and over the lip in the box to hang in a crumpled seam from Hoseok’s white fist. He dropped the box where he’d deposited the stapler, using both hands to suspend the dress across his torso.

It was elegant green with a sloping neckline and a cinched waist and all things that would look beautiful on you but was definitely out of the price range for the office secret Santa.

“This…” Hoseok continued to stare, open mouthed, at the glittering fabric as it swayed over the top of his polished dress shoes, “This is what you bought?”

Namjoon snatched it, not caring that he probably just crinkled the fabric in the most unflattering angles (not that it would matter because you would look beautiful if he’d cut some holes in the discount paper bags meant for holiday gifts and gifted that to you instead). The dress folded over his knee and was shoved back in the tiny hole Hoseok had created before the box clattered against his keyboard, opening, closing, and making the screen cut in a fourth over two monitors all at once. His fingers curled into soft grey locks, elbows hitting his knees as he moaned miserably, “What do I do, hyung?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, shoving Namjoon, chair and all, out of the way. He brought the box back into his grasp, flicking off Namjoon’s monitor in the process of straightening out the corners they had altered for the worst.

“Do I have to do everything for you?”

Namjoon, ever oblivious to the coincidence in the office of fifty how he’d managed to draw your name, blinked.

“Give her this.”

The box plopped against his thighs when Hoseok was done. Next came a roll of ribbon one propped up next to a roll of jagged wrapping paper Namjoon had tugged messily from his cupboard that morning. He watched mute as Hoseok bustled about his cubicle, snatching official letterhead from a tray in the corner and a brand new ink pen from a bottom drawer. The pen cap clipped into the corner of Hoseok’s lips as he arched over a file cabinet, slapping the letterhead down on top of the metal.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked lowly.

“Helping you,” Hoseok grunted, pen tip scratching against blunt metal. He scrawled in silence, Namjoon’s fingernails carving crescent shapes into the plastic arms of his chair as he waiting, toe bouncing against the plastic strip below his cubicle. His friend’s wrist circled in a looping, dramatic end, coming to drop the end of the pen into the cap still ceased between his teeth.

“Here,” He stretched the note out with a raised eyebrow, “Give her this with the dress.”

Namjoon scanned the note quickly, eyebrows furling tighter the deeper he got into the literature. “A dinner will be more than thirty dollars, though,” He said finally, still drilling holes into Hoseok’s shitty attempt to forge his signature at the bottom (but mostly at the xoxo etched a handful of font sizes smaller).

“You spent an entire paycheck on a dress.”

“That I still have to give her, by the way,” When Hoseok leaned closer, Namjoon added in a mumble, “The shop doesn’t take returns.”

“Okay fine,” Hoseok placed the note on top of the spool of ribbon, tapping the paper, “You put the note on top of the dress, so she reads it first. The note makes it clear that her portion of dinner is the part for the gift exchange. The dress is just a gift from the who stares at your ass every day when you go to get water—”

“I’m serious about a volume knob. Maybe an off switch. I’ll pay for the surgery, even.”

Hoseok grinned, moving to turn back for his desk, “You owe me one.”

“Wait!” Namjoon slumped into the back of his chair, resembling a miserable middle school boy afraid to ask his crush to step on his toes for three minutes and twenty-some seconds. “What I do if she says no? Will this make her uncomfortable? Oh my god, I’ve royally fucked up haven’t I, I should have just got her that turtle paper weight you saw—”

“You really do only have a grasp on half of your remaining brain cell, don’t you?” Hoseok continued to walk away, voice rising an octave, “Why do you think I rigged the secret Santa for you?”

“You what—”

“Just give her the damn gift, Namjoon,” He shot a thumbs up above his shoulders, “You’ll see!”

His email intended to have his friend reassure him that he needed to exchange his stupid attempt at asking you out for the turtle paperweight he may or may not have already bought and had gift wrapped in a drawer in his desk only worsened the ball of dread twisted in the pit of his stomach.

It also made him ten minutes late for the time he intended to drop the box on your desk and scurry away before you returned from your lunch break.

He weighed the pros and cons of giving you the paperweight and storing the dress in his closet for his roommate to find on accident only to endure how many ever months he remained with the company wishing he’d just grown his balls back and asked you out. He considered how long he’d have to hear Hoseok bitch and risk you hearing him just a desk over. He considered how long he’d had to walk around the entire office to avoid your prying eyes before the embarrassment of your inevitable rejection wore off.

And then his conscious spoke for it all, muscles contracting as he swiped the note and box into his hand and rounded the corner of his cubicle in route for your desk.

Namjoon’s breath seized when you turned to look at him, the rough clattering of his desk chair smacking against his desk startling you just as his looming presence at the corner of your desk did. You cocked an eyebrow, offering a wide, nearly bashful smile at the sight of him.

“Hi!” You chirped, tilting your head, “...are you? Okay?”

“This is uh—” His voice had squeaked twice in his life. Once when he was thirteen giving a speech on the importance of honey bees to the circle of life and now when he was trying to ask out his cute cubicle neighbor who teased him about the bear stickers on the corner of his monitor, was his drinking partner at every company get together, and made straight, khaki slacks look like they belonged on the nearest runway. “—this—” He tried again, thrusting the box in your direction, “—for you.”

“Namjoon…” Your voice was a halfhearted scold, leaning forward to take the box from him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Keeping me away from Jeongguk during the Christmas party was enough.”

He shook his head, offering shortly, “Secret Santa.”

Your lips rounded, thumb barely underneath the box lid. “Well, you aren’t so secret now, are you?”

“Was going to leave it on your desk during your lunch break but uh…” Namjoon gestured vaguely with his hand in front of his face, “Hoseok.”

You nodded in understanding, flipping the lid over on your thighs. “Ah, well…” You trailed off, squinting hard at the handwriting on the note, cheeks gradually heating the further you got.

“That’s part of the gift exchange,” Namjoon rushed, bracing his hip against the corner of your desk, “The other thing is, uh, from me. I guess. If you want it. Or if you even want the first part.”

The dress fluttered between the ridges in your knuckles as you pulled it out, letting it pool elegantly in your lap as you ran your free hand across the embroidery stitched across the neckline and into the cinched waist. You pulled at the top, stretching it between your palms as you dropped it into your lap, staring blankly at the garment that now covered the company letterhead crumbled between your thighs.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Namjoon,” His name rolled off your tongue robotically, your entire being still buzzing numbly as you kicked your feet backward, rolling for you desk. You disappeared, only to return with a similarly generic gift box, white and cardboard, the only difference being the shiny red bow that was taped on the top left corner. “Take this.”

“Honey, you didn’t have to—”

“Secret Santa,” You rasped, features softened a bit now from their previously stoic state. “Hoseok.”

Within was a rectangular, plastic card, displaying the very logo of the place Namjoon had planned on taking you to. Underneath was a note scrawled in thick black marker in handwriting eerily similar to the note in his own gift.

You can only keep this if I get to come with you. Signed, your secret Santa your neighbor :)

“I’m going to kill him.”

“He told me to trust him but I didn’t believe him.”

“How did he rig the drawing?”

“He’s been here every day since the drawing, trying to convince me—”

“I’m still going to kill him.”

Your giggle broke Namjoon out of his haze of striding a few paces over and breaking his friend’s sacred glass rooster that perched on top of his computer tower. You slumped in silence, smile still stretched bright and proud over your teeth as you regarded him with a shaking head, occasional laughter still breaking past your parted lips.

“So do you want to—”

“Is that a yes to the date—”

You continued to beam, crossing your legs at the knee, “You go first.”

Namjoon huffed, setting his shoulders and wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his collared shirt. “Do you want to go to dinner with me sometime?”

“You know, it just so happens my wonderful neighbor just bought me a stunning new dress…” Your head lulled against the leather back of the chair, smile lessening to just a fond seam of your lips, “How’s Friday after work sound?”

“Perfect.”

Your laughter was already Namjoon’s favorite sound but now he wanted your smile painted to the back of his eyelids so he never had to stop seeing it. “Good,” You nodded, “I’ll bring my gift card.”

He was so starry eyed and floating on a metaphorical cloud that had vaporized above your head that he barely acknowledged his tongue wisping in his mouth, throat vibrating out words.

“I’ll bring your paperweight.”

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Metal

Pairing: Calum Hood/ Female Reader

Requested By: @sweetcherrycal

Content Warning: Smut; Piercer!Calum AU

Word Count: 1,993

A small bell chimed over your head as you opened the door to Voodoo Body Arts, the shop where your boyfriend, Calum, was a piercer. You were greeted by a round of hellos from Calum’s coworkers as you walked toward the counter.

“Hey! Y/N!” Roy, one of the tattoo artists, started. “You finally gonna let me ink that little skull and crossbones?” You giggled and shook your head at him.

“Not today, Roy. I was actually thinking about adding to my piercing collection.”

“Well, your little boy toy is in the back.” He said with a smile, gesturing vaguely behind him with his thumb.

The door to the piercing room was open and you saw Calum sitting on a stool next to the counter on the back wall, scrolling on his phone. He looked up when he heard you approaching, a smile spreading across his face quickly when he saw you. He sat his phone on the counter and stood to greet you with a hug around your waist and you laced your fingers behind his neck.

“Hey, baby.” He said after kissing your cheek. “To what do I owe the lovely surprise.”

You smiled up at him, and stretched your fingers under the back of the grey beanie he wore, your fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. “I was thinking I might finally want those nipple rings you've been trying to make me get.”

His dark eyes lit up as you spoke, his smile growing almost wider than you'd ever seen it. His jaw dropped comically as he pulled away from you, feigning surprise. “Baby, it's not nice to tease your boyfriend.”

You threw your head back to laugh at him. “I'm not teasing! I really want them!”

He leaned down to connect his full lips to yours. “This is the best day of my life!” He said excitedly when he pulled away from you to close the door to the piercing room. “Alright, hop up on the table and let me see them boobies.”

You scrunched up your nose as you sat on the table. “Ew! I'm changing my mind if you say boobies again.” You told him with a laugh.

He giggled back at you, he had moved across the room back to the counter on the back wall. “Lose the shirt, babe.” He put on a pair of gloves and placed a pair of silver barbells on the metal tray next to him. He looked over his shoulder at you, “Bra, too.”

You reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra before removing it and setting it on top of your discarded shirt next to you. He added some paper towels, two packaged needles, and his piercing marker to the table before turning to face you.

He moved the stool and metal tray next to the table you were sat on. He sat down in front of you on the stool, your nipples coming to his eye level. Calum suddenly became very professional as he uncapped the purple marker and made two small dots on either side of each nipple. He eyed them carefully before retrieving the paper towel and wiping one dot away and redrawing it.

“Okay... “ He started, still looking at your breasts. “Take a look, make sure you’re happy with where they’re gonna be.” You hopped down to the floor and took a step towards the tall mirror on the wall. You cupped the bottoms of your breasts and moved them both slightly to make sure the dots were lined up. You felt Calum snake his arms around your waist, his fingertips going just slightly below the waistband at the front of your denim shorts. “My god, you are so beautiful.” He whispered into your ear as he made eye contact with you in the mirror. “Can’t wait to see how those perfect tits look with some metal in them.” His words made you melt into his touch. You spun in his arms and pulled his face down to yours in a heated kiss.

Calum pulled back from the kiss with a smile. He reached behind him and picked up your discarded shirt and bra and set them on the counter. “Okay, princess. Lay back, arms at your sides.” You did as instructed while he stood over you and unwrapped the needles, taking one from it's package and setting the other back onto the tray. He placed one hand over your left breast, holding it in place as he brought the needle to your skin.

“Ready?” You nodded. “Okay, take a deep breath, I'm gonna count back from three, breathe out on one.”

You laughed, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. He stood up straight and shot an annoyed look down at you. “I'm sorry! It's just that these are the third and fourth piercings I've gotten from you, babe. I know the drill by now.”

He leaned down, putting his gloved hands on either side of your head, his lips just a few inches from yours. “I know this, princess. But it's habit, so can you please be quiet so I can do my job.” You nodded silently, a small smile still on your lips. “Good.” He said before meeting your lips in a short kiss. He stood back up and resumed his previous stance over you.

“Alright, deep breath.” He started, the cool metal of the needle flush against your breast. “And three, two… One.” You exhaled as instructed at the same moment Calum pushed the needle through your nipple. He reached over to the metal tray and picked up the first barbell, feeding one end through the hollow end of the needle before pulling it through and securing the ball on the end.

“Looks so fucking good, baby.” He breathed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he wiped away a few drops of blood with a paper towel. “Ready for round two?”

“Born ready.” You answered him with a wink.

He smiled down at as he took your right breast in hand and placed the second needle next to your skin. He repeated the same process as the first piercing before pulling back to look at his handy work. He quickly turned away from you to throw the needles into the designated container and remove his gloves. When he turned back to you he put one hand out to help you sit up straight. He spread your legs and came to stand between your thighs.

“Jesus, baby.” He said as he ran his hands down your sides. “I thought your tits were  perfect before, but fuck if this isn't the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.”

You giggled as you placed your arms over his shoulders. “You like?”

“Fucking love.” He answered, his voice low and dripping with lust. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time making sure to be careful not to brush your new piercings. “I want you so bad right now. Like, right here right now.” He brought his hands to the front of your shorts and started to undo the button.

“Calum, we can't.”

“Why not?” He asked, his hands now working on pulling down your zipper while his lips left soft kisses along your jaw.

“They'll hear us up front.” You moaned your response.

“We'll be quiet.”

“What if there's a customer?”

“We'll be so fast, baby. Honestly just looking at you right now I'm about to cum in my jeans like some kind of horny teenager.”

You let out a breathy moan as he spoke, his words and tone of voice starting a fire in you that you knew he would be the only one to extinguish. “Fine, but you have to pull out.” You answered, rolling your head back and he continued to kiss down your jaw onto your neck.

“Deal.” He pulled away from you to unbutton his jeans, pulling them and his grey boxers halfway down his thighs. While he was doing that you slid your shorts and panties down your legs, kicking them off to the side where they landed with a dull thud.

He came to stand in front of you again, his hands landing on your thighs. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.” You leaned forward to kiss him, one hand going to the back of his neck while the other rested on his chest. He gripped the base of his shaft and guided himself to your core before slowly sliding fully into you. You let out a ragged breath and buried your face into his white t shirt on his shoulder to quiet the sound.

He moved his hands behind your back, pulling you closer to the edge of the table as he picked up the pace, staying true to his word of being quick. You did your best to contain the moans that we're desperate to escape your lips by keeping your face nestled into his clothed shoulder as his hips bucked into yours at a faster than normal pace. He reached one hand between your bodies, using his thumb to rub your clit.

“So fucking perfect, baby.” He breathed quietly into you ear. You felt your orgasm coming, building quicker than you'd ever experienced.

“I- I'm…”

“Ah, fuck- I know, princess.” He grunted, his thumb slightly picking up it's pace against your sensitive clit.

Before he finished his sentence your orgasm was taking over all of your senses. Your entire body felt like there were fireworks on your skin and you felt Calum move his hand from your lower back to rest just below your shoulders. You didn't even try to hold back the pleasured whine that escaped your throat.

Calum brought his hand from between your bodies to cover your mouth. “Shhhh, baby girl.” He giggled as he was still thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace and you could tell by the erratic nature of his thrusts that he was getting close, too.

“Babe, don't forget to pull out.” You said between labored breaths.

A few moments later he removed himself from you and quickly grabbed a paper towel from the counter. He finished into it, groaning out a low, drawn out “Fuck.” Before tossing it into the small trash can.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped his jeans before retrieving your clothes for you. “Okay, seriously, we have got to do that again.” He said as you pulled your shirt over your head.

“You're going to get fired.” You said with a giggle.

“Worth it.” He whispered and bent down to kiss your cheek. He took your hand in his as he opened the door of the piercing room before leading you down the hallway toward the front of the shop.

“Going out for a smoke real quick.” He said as you walked past the front counter. His co-workers all let out a laugh as he spoke.

“Yeah, I'm sure you need one.” Samantha, one of the tattoo artists said. You both turned around and shot them all a confused look before Roy spoke up.

“Did you forget that John put security cameras in all the rooms last month, dumbass?” You felt your face get hot as realization washed over you. “And even if he hadn't, you are not quiet.” He laughed again as he pointed a finger at you.

“Jesus Christ.” You said as you tried to hide your face in Calums chest. He brought one hand to the back of your head, slipping his long fingers into your hair. You could feel him giggle under you as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

“Jealousy is not a good look for you guys.” He said between laughs.

“And neither is sex hair for Y/N!” Roy called back as Calum spun you both around to head toward the door. You heard another roar of laughter as the bell above you chimed again when Calum opened the front door, leading you out onto the sidewalk.

~~~

My first ever smut! And I’m super nervous about it omfg 

If you have any 5sos fic requests, or would like to be tagged in future 5sos fics, please let me know!

Tag List: @crownedbyluke @blue-skies-are-alright @lmao5sosimagines @therainydays4 @rosecth @thesoundsyoumake @kinglyhemmings @a-little-international @harryandthelesbians @thesupremefurbee @lukescherrypie 

[bethsilliteratewriting-blog]

Can I get one off you?

Words: 1,990

Pairing: Treebros

slight tw for anxiety and smoking? 

Evan was once again, completely and utterly anxious. His anxiety was rather high today, being that it was the first day of senior year. Gripping his backpack strap with his uncasted arm, he made his way into the school, his heart-rate quickening and breathing becoming unsteady.

Anxiety and panic still steadily creeping its way towards Evan, he maneuvered his way through the busy hall to his locker, actively avoiding everyone and trying not to flinch at the sounds of lockers being shut or classroom doors being opened. He was near tears, and damn he really didn't need to be crying right now. Taking a shaky breath and trying to rid the knot that was growing in the base of his throat, he makes it to his locker.

As he was still trying not to have a full-blown panic attack and get his breathing under control, someone slings their arm around his shoulder, causing Evan to jump and let out a surprised gasp-like-squeak.

"Wow, did you turn into a dog toy, what the hell was that sound, Hansen?" Jared asked, amusement lacing his voice. Evan released a shaky fake laugh himself before gripping the hem of his shirt, an anxious habit he somehow picked up. Jared follows the sight of Evan's hand before letting out a startled laugh, "Shit, what's up with the cast? Did you really jerk off so much that you broke your arm?" Jared laughs again, releasing his grip on Evan's shoulder.

"Wha- No! I just.. I fell out of a tree.." Evan mumbled quietly in reply,

"Oh my god, that's is so lame!" He said loudly, causing a few heads to turn. "Are you an acorn or something?"

Evan quickly shook his head and bit his lip, he cast his gaze down. Jared was talking too loudly, everyone was looking. They were all probably staring. Everyone was thinking he was some kind of idiot. There were too many people, it was too much, too much. The knot at the base of his throat was back, and he was struggling to breathe, his entire body was shaking and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Panic kept ebbing its way towards Evan until he was near hyperventilating, finally choking out a stuttered sentence.

"C-Class, I, I h-have to get to c-class."

He pushed his way past Jared, his legs trembling and barely holding his weight. Only briefly hearing Jared saying something about someone's hair as he pushes through the hall buzzing with people, each in their own respective friend groups. Getting enough control over his shaky legs, he somehow makes it through the hall and past the exit doors of the school. Tears finally streaming down his face, he exited the doors to the back of the school, using the wall to support himself. Evan sank down the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and focused on trying to get oxygen in his lungs. His throat burned with the lack of air, and his eyes itched with the number of tears he was shedding due to panic. He sat that way for a while, trembling and waiting out his panic attack, waiting for his body to run out of adrenaline.

As his anxiety eased, and he could finally breathe, he shrugged off his backpack, letting his head hit the wall he was sitting against. Knowing he was probably missing his first class, anxiety slowly clawed its way up again, causing Evan to drastically search through his backpack for the cigarettes he stored in the very bottom of his backpack. Normally the very idea of getting caught smoking on school grounds caused Evan to be too paranoid to ever attempt it, but after the encounter with Jared, he's pretty sure he couldn't be too bothered to care. His anxiety was expectedly high today. The thought of senior year, the last year of high school, the thought of having to apply for colleges, having to pay for college, getting scholarships.

Evan lit the ciggerate with shaking hands and slowly took a practiced drag. With the nicotine filling his head, he could feel his anxiety easing away entirely, taking another long drag and exhaling slowly, letting the smoke cloud in front of him.

Half a ciggerate later, Evan was feeling less on edge, and almost okay enough to walk back into the school building and be on time for his next class. This was quickly changed by the school doors he was sitting next to aggressively swinging open, revealing a trembling teen clad in black. Said teen paced back and forth, long hair covering his face from Evan's view. Which was just fine with him, as Evan was now holding his breath and trying his hardest to blend into the wall. He was quickly discovered though as the teen, who turned out to be Connor Murphy swung around, glaring angrily at Evan. Really, Evan should have guessed. From the fraying messenger bag, black hoodie and painted nails, it should have been a dead give away.

A tense silence of staring passed over them, Connor now with his hands balled into fists and breathing heavily. Connor stood still, staring at him for a long moment, radiating nothing but rage. Suddenly his shoulders slump as if life has been drained out of him and he looks at Evan now with exhaustion. The heavy silence is broken with Connor's heavy sigh and question,

"Can I get one off you?"

Evan stares dumbly, the question not processing at all. He simply blinks, still staring openly at Connor before blurting out, "Wha- What?"

Connor takes a deep breath, his eye twitching in irritation. "A fucking ciggerate, can I get one off you?"

Evan, as if now just remembering the lit cigarette in his hand, nods quickly and holds up the pack to Connor, his hand shaking again. Connor sighs in what sounds like relief, pulling one out and slumping down against the wall next to Evan, before holding his hand out expectantly. Staring at his hand dumbly again, Evan finally realizes he's asking for a lighter. He shuffles around in his backpack again before placing it in Connor's hand and watching him lite his own cigarette taking a drag with ease. Not wanting to be caught staring like some creep, Evan takes another drag of his own. An awkward silence settles over them again, as they sit, taking drag after drag. Evan wonders what would be the easiest and less obvious escape route. God, what if they get caught. Connor was known to be the resident school druggy, so it was no surprised he asked for a ciggerate, but Evan was starting to panic at the idea of being caught or told on. He really couldn't afford to have this on his school record. Oh god, I have to get out.

His racing thoughts were halted, by Connor breaking the deafening silence.

"What happened to your arm?" He asked,

"O-Oh! Uh- I, well, fell out of a tree." Evan sputters out, looking at the cast.

"Well, that's just about the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." Connor laughs, taking another drag before finishing off his cigarette.

He nods, a laugh dying on his lips, "I know."

"Want me to sign it?" Connor asks, giving a sideways glance at Evan.

"Y-You don't have to. I mean, you can if you want, but like, no pressure or obligation or anything." Evan rambled on before sighing and taking the last drag of his own cigarette.

Evan finally looked over at Connor, at the sound of shuffling. He was looking through his pockets and pulled out a sharpie. Evan would have asked why he conveniently had a sharpie in his pocket, before noticing the intricate swirls and doodles that covered Connor's hands. His staring was interrupted by Connor harshly grasping at Evan's casted arm, making him squeak out a small 'ow.' Connor, looking at Evan's face mumbled out a 'sorry', easing his grip on the boy's arm. Uncapping the black marker, he wrote out his name in large blocky letters.

"Now, that just looks like shit, doesn't it?" Connor mumbled, glaring down at the sloppy handwriting.

"It's not bad," Evan replied, looking down at the cast as well. He was actually rather happy to have at least one name on his cast, even if it was from Connor Murphy. He lightly ran a hand down the name, careful not to smudge the still damp ink.

"Nah, it looks like crap, let me try and fix it." He said, grabbing at Evan's arm again, albeit softer this time. Connor leaned down, scribbling on the cast. His long hair obscured the view of whatever he was writing, making Evan panic slightly. He just hoped to god he wasn't drawing a dick on his cast. Sometime later, Connor stopped, placing the cap back on the sharpie and looking over his work. When Evan finally had the nerve to look down at his cast, he was pleasantly surprised. The same swirl designs that decorated Connors' hands were distributed on his cast, flowers, leaves, and vines were all around and weaved through the large letters of Connor's name.

"Oh- T-Thank you," Evan said, giving a hesitant smile to Connor. "It's really pretty, I mean, like, you're a really good artist."

He just shrugged, placing the sharpie back in his pocket. "It was just to make up for my crappy handwriting."

"It's really not the bad," Evan replied, still looking at Connor, whose eyes had closed and was now resting against the wall.

"I guess," Was the disinterested answer he gave,

Evan, trying to grasp at something else to say as to not go back to the awkward silence, blurted out the first thing he could think of, "Why are you skipping class?" That did get Connor's attention, as he turned his gaze to Evan, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why the fuck are you skipping class?" Came Connor's defensive reply.

Evan shrank back into the wall, again bringing his knees close to his chest and hugging them. Not wanting to face the truth of having an anxiety disorder, and not being able to function like a normal human for two damn seconds, he went with the next best thing. "It was just a stressful morning I guess.. I needed some time."

Connor let out a puff of air that sounded almost like a laugh and a disbelieving sigh. "So you went to the back of the school to smoke? Gotta say, never expected shy Evan Hansen that I shared English with to smoke outside the school." He grinned, prompting Evan to give a sheepish smile back. "To answer your question though, Jared Kleinman is a dick."

Evan let out a muffled hum of an agreement, remembering the comment Jared made before he ran down the hall. "Yeah.. He kind of is. Sorry if he said something to you."

Connor just shrugged again, standing up and hoisting his backpack up higher. "It's not your fault he's a dick."

Evan quickly packed the lighter and pack of cigarettes away, looking up at Connor. "Where are you going?" He asked hesitantly, a frown carving its way onto his face. Evan was rather enjoying the small conversation he was having with Connor. It was more than anything he ever did with Jared, no insults being thrown, no one poking fun at his anxiety. Connor glanced back down at Evan, a mischevious grin etching it's way onto his face.

"You're not what I expected you to be, Hansen. And for that reason, you and I," he paused pointing at Evan before himself for dramatic effect, "are going to ditch school." Connor held his hand out again, but this time he was awaiting Evan's hand, a grin still in place on his face, lighting up his normally scowled features. The anxiety that coursed through him at the thought of ditching an entire day of school almost propelled him to say no. Almost.

[doggonneit]

Honey Eyes and Bloody Lips

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing/Characters: Kuroo/Tsukishima

Rating: T for Teen

Warnings: Swearing, piercings, tattoos, blood

A.N. This is for @its-love-u-asshole for the @hqvalentineexchange. I hope you enjoy!

[Read on AO3]

Kuroo should’ve guessed from the name Karasuno that there would be a crow theme to the studio. The front was nothing spectacular to look at, all the dirty grey of concrete with a few crow silhouettes spray-painted onto its surface. Whoever had been tasked with that job had taken liberties with the amount of paint they used, as each bird had black trails trickling down like blood.

It was morbid.

Kuroo thought it was adorable.

Akaashi had recommended the studio since one of his friends worked there, and he gave a ringing endorsement to their piercing services which was impressive because praise that like didn’t come lightly from someone like him. A quick Google search further cemented Karasuno’s reputation-- they’d only been open for six months but already garnered over one hundred reviews raving about their excellent standards of service and friendly staff.

That was all Kuroo needed before he grabbed his keys and drove down to the studio.

Given its macabre exterior, it wasn’t surprising to see the same theme running in its interior-- more of the same dripping birds gliding along the walls and resting on silhouettes of tree branches that curled around the polaroids of ironically happy customers with their new piercings.

A blond man sat behind the front counter, so concentrated on adjusting jewellery in a velvet case while humming to the music coming from the portable speaker next to him that he didn’t notice Kuroo’s presence till he leaned over and put his elbows on the surface.

“Oh.” The man’s golden gaze flitted upwards and his mouth formed a perfect o. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Kuroo gaped and his elbows slipped out from under him. He smacked his forehead on the counter with the loudest crack and in that moment he wished through the haze of pain for instant death to save him from the humiliation of looking like a complete moron in front of the most gorgeous man to walk the earth.

“Shit.” The man leaned closer to him and that was not good for his heart . “Are you all right?”

“Fine!” Kuroo sprang back a safe distance and pretended he couldn't the heat blazing across his cheeks like a wildfire. He usually wasn’t this inept, and he cursed the little black crows on the walls for his dismal state. “Sorry, clumsy. Super clumsy.”

“Yeah, that looks like it’ll bruise.”

“The only thing bruised is my pride,” Kuroo weakly joked. “Nothing important.”

The man gave a small huff of laughter and Kuroo’s pride swelled back to its usual inflated proportions. How many people could boast they had literally heard happiness from an angel? It was the most beautiful sound, the kind that was meant to be curled up on the couch next to him laughing late into the night about their hopes and dreams.

“Well then, welcome to Karasuno. My name’s Tsukishima and I’m here for all your piercing needs. What can I do for you today?”

It took Kuroo a moment to remember why he even came here in the first place.

“I’m thinking of getting pierced,” Kuroo said, then gave himself the biggest mental slap. He was in a piercing studio, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like he walked in here looking for rainbows and unicorns. “So, uh, you take walk-ins?”

“Yeah, absolutely. What did you want done?”

Kuroo paused. He’d wanted to get a third set done in his ears for a while now, but all the client photos showcasing a variety of piercings in a variety of places wavered his intentions and a good, long look at Tsukishima changed them completely.

Tsukishima was naturally stunning, and the jewellery that adorned him made him a complete work of art. The most striking piece was a barbell that went straight through the middle of his bottom lip and moved with every word like a hypnotic dance. Kuroo had never seen jewellery so perfect for someone and he wanted something like that for himself.

Tsukishima’s golden eyes followed Kuroo’s gaze and ran his tongue over the piercing, far too slow to be anything but deliberate. “You like the labret?”

Say something cool, say something cool, say something cool.

“It’s cool,” Kuroo said, and wished he could melt through the floor. That had to be the lamest response ever. Why was he being such a thirteen year old boy trying to impress his crush? He ignored the fact that it wasn’t too far from his current reality. “I don’t have the guts to take a needle through the lip though. I’m squeamish.”

That’ll make the devastatingly handsome man swoon. Good job, dumbass.

Tsukishima raised one pierced eyebrow. “Squeamish,” he repeated, looking pointedly at Kuroo’s arms. “That makes so much sense.”

“Oh, these.” Kuroo touched his tattooed sleeves with an abashed chuckle. He liked his ink and it was nothing to call it an addiction, not since he got his first taste on his nineteenth birthday when Akaashi tattooed a little black cat sitting on the side of his neck and showed him the wonders of body art.

The needle hooked him and never let go. Kuroo turned to Akaashi for his every tattooing need: a love poem in cursive Spanish across his ribs, the vivid blues of a stormy ocean crashing down his right arm and the livid greens of a snarling dragon spiralling its way down his left arm.

“You must have a stomach for needles if you can sit through hours of being repeatedly stabbed and injected with ink,” Tsukishima said.

“The needle’s not as big,” Kuroo protested, and if he didn't feel like a child before then he certainly did now. But hey, this was pure survival instincts speaking-- it was perfectly natural to be wary of sharp objects that could punch a hole through your body. “It makes sense from an evolutionary perspective.”

“Fair enough,” Tsukishima agreed. “So, no labret for you today?”

Kuroo was about to say no, but he just couldn’t peel his eyes away from Tsukishima’s mouth and how amazing they looked with the silver ball ends seated perfectly above and below his bottom lip. He wanted to know what that felt like on his lips, whether it be through a kiss or a needle.

You romantic, you.

“I want it,” Kuroo quickly said.

Tsukishima frowned, noticing Kuroo’s snap decision and clearly wanting him to take a step back and think it through. “If you’re unsure, it may be best to postpone--”

“No, I want it,” Kuroo said again, this time slower and with greater conviction. “I want the labret.”

Tsukishima fell silent and he held out for what felt like an eternity, no doubt testing Kuroo’s resolution. But Kuroo didn’t budge-- he was going to stick with the big, scary needle going through his whole lip because his mama may have raised a fool but she didn’t raise no quitter.

“If you’re sure--”

“Oh, I am.”

“--we have a selection of colours available you can see over there. Take your time picking one and I’ll go get my equipment ready.”

They parted from the counter, Kuroo ducking his head as soon as it was polite and burying his face in his hands. If he rubbed hard enough, maybe he’d scourge the redness from his cheeks by completely sanding off his skin. It’d been years since his awkward teenage years and here he was reliving every single one of those horror stories again.

At least he didn’t have acne anymore.

Kuroo took a deep breath and faced the display cabinet-- nope, he wasn’t going to let himself spiral down that particular path right now, not when there was a chance he could make an even bigger fool of himself. He focused on the jewellery gleaming under the little lights and where was he even supposed to start? Colour? Stone? Ends? Kuroo just blinked and stared-- he’d made too big a decision in getting a labret and now his decision-making skills had deserted him in his hour of need.

“What are you thinking?”

Kuroo yelped and jumped straight into the cabinet. The jewellery inside rattled loose like beads all over their shelves and Tsukishima grabbed onto his arms to steady him.

“Whoa, sorry.” Tsukishima smoothed down his shirt and gave it a pat. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Oh my god, he touched my chest, not a drill, not a drill!

“No, I was just supised-- surpised-- surp--surp--”

“Surprised?” Tsukishima offered.

“Surprised.” Kuroo’s voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched and now he was even squeaking like he was thirteen again. He cleared his throat and said in a much deeper and sexier voice, “Surprised. Yes. Sorry about the, uh, mess in the cabinet.”

“No need,” Tsukishima said with a shrug. “I’ve been meaning to rearrange it anyway.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said. “Good.”

Silence.

“So,” Tsukishima prompted. “Jewellery?”

“Right!” Kuroo gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I’m not too sure what’ll look best on me, so I don’t know?”

Fantastic, men love indecision.

Tsukishima considered his answer. “If you’re not sure then you can never go wrong with simplicity. How about silver, with ball ends?”

“Like yours?”

“Like mine.”

Kuroo’s heart did a weird flop. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s good.”

Tsukishima smiled and this is how men go blind and led him into one of the back rooms where a small stool and a tray of various equipment were set out. Kuroo tried not to look at them because his imagination conjured visuals far worse than reality could ever be.

“Take a seat there. You’ve been pierced before, and this process is no different.” Tsukishima snapped on a pair of purple latex gloves and cleaned Kuroo’s lip with an antibacterial wipe and used a black marker to make a small dot beneath the swell of his bottom lip. “How does that look?”

Kuroo glanced into the mirror on the wall and nodded. “Good.”

“Okay, I’m going to use this,” Tsukishima picked up a giant pair of glistening forceps, “to hold your lip in position.”

Kuroo’s eyes bugged out at the contraption and he began to sweat. “Tha-- that’s huge,” he managed.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything,” Tsukishima assured him. “It just steadies your lip so the needle doesn’t go in crooked.”

“The needle--”

“It looks like this.” Tsukishima picked it up. “It’s not as bad as you thought, right?”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as thick or threatening as Kuroo had envisioned but it still was going to punch a hole through his lip and he might just faint if he saw it coming towards him.

“Can I keep my eyes shut?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Kuroo did just that and he felt Tsukishima pull his lip out and hold onto it with the forceps. He was okay, he was doing okay, he was going to be okay…

“Take a deep breath,” Tsukishima said.

Kuroo obeyed, then a sharp sting went through his lip and he couldn’t help but open his eyes and see the needle sticking out of his lip. And what was that? The warmth dripping from his lip and down to his chin?

“Oh ny god,” he said through motionless lips. “Oh ny god… the glood…”

“Hey,” Tsukishima said. “Hey. Look at me.”

Kuroo tore his gaze upwards and looked straight into honey eyes and began to drown in their warmth and beauty. If he was going to bleed to death, this was surely the way to go. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” Tsukishima whispered back. "Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

That wasn't a difficult request-- in fact, Kuroo would gladly just sit there all day long and admire the sharp planes of Tsukishima's cheekbones, his milky smooth skin and how long and fluttery hiseyelashes were. If karma was indeed a thing, then Tsukishima had to have done something amazing in his past lives to be an angel walking on this earth today.

You are such a goner, you sap.

Tsukishima’s hands never stopped working and far too soon he stepped back with a small smile. “That’s it. All done.”

“That quick?”

Tsukishima gestured to the mirror. “Take a look.”

Kuroo turned and hot damn . He turned this way and that way, admiring how much more badass he looked now. He couldn’t have asked for a better piercer-- Tsukishima knew his stuff and even better, he was art and he made other people art too.

“How’s that?” Tsukishima asked. “We match.”

“We match,” Kuroo happily said.

“You like it?”

"Yeah," Kuroo said. He gave a wide grin which, to his surprise, made Tsukishima wince. "Is something wrong?"

"Not... wrong, per se," Tsukishima said. He made a vague gesture to his mouth. "You, uh, have blood on your teeth. It looks rather threatening."

"Shit, ha." Kuroo wiped the smile from his face and adopted a glare instead with his teeth bared. "How do I look now? Badass?"

"Badass," Tsukishima confirmed, setting his equipment straight again and beckoning. "Come out front. I'll ring you up and book you in for a follow-up appointment."

They made their way back to the front of the studio where Kuroo paid for his new piercing and zoned out of the spiel on how to take care of it. He'd gone through the routines before and this was hardly any different so he played with his barbell instead-- poking at it with the tip of his tongue and mouthing at it between his lips. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would and he was so engrossed that he didn't notice Tsukishima frowning at him till it was too late.

Oops. Can't ignore the calls of an angel.

"Sorry, I just really like it," Kuroo said.

"Keep doing that and it won't heal straight," Tsukishima warned. "You want a crooked piercing?"

The thought of the perfectly placed barbell growing slanted made Kuroo's eye twitch and he vowed not to touch it again, at least until it healed, otherwise it'd be a waste of Tsukishima's skills.

"I've booked you in for the same time in two weeks," Tsukishima said. He took a business card from the counter and scrawled the appointment details on the back, ending it with an elegant flick of his wrist and pressing the card into Kuroo's hand. His skin was warm and his touch lingered against Kuroo's.

I'm absolutely besotted, help.

Kuroo wanted to say more and prolong his visit but Tsukishima had already turned away and busied himself with another jewellery display. Kuroo didn't want to call his attention, not when he'd so clearly been dismissed, so he bade a silent farewell and stepped outside to a bustling street filled with noisy pedestrians and blaring traffic. It was such a contrast from the interior of the quiet studio that it took Kuroo by surprise.

He leaned on one of the concrete walls next to a little black crow that looked like it was shitting black paint on his shoulder, and was about to slip the card into his phone case when he noticed something extra written on the back.

Call me. 03-XXXX-XXXX

Kuroo stared at the words with his jaw wide open and almost swallowed a fly. He choked on his spit and whipped around to look through the glass door but Tsukishima had already disappeared.

Oh my god oh my god ohmygod ohmygodohmygod!

Kuroo couldn't control the gigantic grin that broke out over his face and he probably still had blood in his teeth judging by some of the horrified stares he got but who cared about them when he got the number of the most gorgeous man to exist on this plane? Kuroo hurriedly opened up his camera and gave the most terrifying grin and holy hell did he look demonic with his hair spiking up in a hundred different directions and his mouth filled with blood. He took a picture, posted it to Karasuno's page and began writing another five star review to add to their collection.  

10/10 would recommend, should've taken a polaroid like this. Thanks, Tsukishima!

[speedreiding]

Professional (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: Hey guys! This was a fun one to write and I hope you enjoy putting your eyes on it. Warnings: none, maybe light smut Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Prompt: the reader is a new member to the BAU team and shows Spencer up constantly so he ends up getting annoyed and brings it up to her? And when he does, she starts teasing him, he gets annoyed and then when they both get frustrated, they end up making out in the broom closet only to be found out by the rest of the team Requested by: @anon Upcoming Imagine: Spencer and the reader were best friends… - You walked into the BAU with coffee in one hand and files in the other, and you needed your wallet out of your back pocket. You quickly looked around, needing assistance until you saw a tall, brown haired man. “Hey you.” You said making him turn around quickly and smile. “Hi.” He said with a small smile and a wave. “Do you mind getting my wallet out of my back pocket?” You said turning around and jutting your hip out. The man stared at your wallet and froze. “I uh…” he stammered, lost for words. You turned and looked at his red face, confused and scared. “I would get it but my arms are full.” You said with a small laugh as he awkwardly fiddled with his hands. “I'm… um I don't…” he stuttered. “Are you doing to take it out of my pocket or not?” You said after sighing. His mouth opened and closed and you decided to take that as a no and you turned around with a huff, finding a dark skinned man and you grabbed his attention before asking the same favor, which he did with ease. “Thank you.” You said as he set it with the files in your hand. “No problem sugar.” He said with a dashing smile. - Throughout the day you met the team, and since today everyone was going through files, it was a chill day. You really hit it off with Derek and Emily, but there was this tension between you and Spencer, the man who refused to take your wallet out of your back pocket. “Yeah pretty boy has a germ thing, he doesn’t like to shake hands so don’t expect to be in a radius of 5 feet close to him.” Derek said with a smile as Spencer blushed. “That explains why he was so scared to take my wallet out of my pocket.” You said as you bit your lip as you looked at him. “I wasn’t scared it was just… in your back pocket.” He muttered under his breathe. “He probably just didn’t want to touch your ass.” Derek said with a laugh. “And you did?” You asked Derek, changing the teasing to him now. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Spencer’s hands ball up in fists as he turned around and walked to his desk, not wanting to be a part of the conversation. - “It was relevant okay? It’s what I do on a daily basis so your going to have to deal with it.” Spencer said. You had teased him about the unrelevant talking he does after every word you say, triggering a small argument. “Do I have to deal with your passive aggressive sass as well?” You asked with a small laugh. He was definitely classified as passive aggressive, which is one of the worst things to be, because it gets on everyone’s nerves very quickly, you had found out. Spencer blushed and continued drawing nonsense on the map that wasn’t even related to what you were doing. You grabbed a marker and drew a smiley face next to what he was doing and capped the pen with a satisfied smile. Spencer stopped and looked down at you before erasing it. You gasped and drug your fingers over what he was doing. “That was professional.” He said erasing the rest of it before redrawing it. “It’s not very professional to give me a hard time on my first day.” You teased. “It’s not professional to ask a coworker to touch your ass on the first day either.” He snapped before throwing the pen in the garbage. “It ran out of ink.” He said before walking away, which you quickly followed. “I’m making you mad aren’t I?” You asked with a grin. “I’m not mad.” He said taking out his keys after he stopped at a door. “I think you are. I’m not supposed to profile my coworkers but your behavior is screaming ‘mad’.” You said before he opened the door quickly, revealing the supply closet as he scanned the shelves for dry erase markers. “You could’ve just used the one I had. Oh wait, it probably had my germs on it.” You said, making him slam the door and press you to the back of it. “I told you the doctors mad.” You said biting your bottom lip. “You wanted me to touch you didn’t you? That’s why you asked me to take the wallet out of your pocket.” He said as his mouth was dangerously close to yours. “Well it looks like you missed your chance pretty boy.” You said fixing his tie. You weren’t going to be the one to give in. Blush rose to his cheeks as you had your hands on him, his stayed at his waist unsure of what to do with them. “Unless you want a second chance…” you said taking his hands and setting them on your hips. His mouth dropped open and closed again like earlier, unsure of what to say. “Speak Spencer.” You said making him blink quickly, his lips too perfect to resist. You pulled his tie down and locked your lips with his. He moaned into the kiss as you looped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you soaked in his delicious scent. His hands moved down to cup your ass in his large hands, making you break the kiss. “There you go pretty boy.” You said dragging your thumbs over his lips as he was catching his breathe. Spencer lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he pushed you into the perpendicular wall. You hit the wall with a thud as Spencer’s tongue raided your mouth. You pulled on his hair as he squeezed your ass, but both of you were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Spencer practically dropped you on your feet as Emily’s face appeared, her mouth dropped open at the sight of both of you heavily breathing and Spencer’s hair more of a mess than it already was. “I’m telling Derek.” She said in a teasing tone, before you knew it, you and Spencer walked out of the closet and you both earned grins and stares. You both went back to your own desks, but before you two parted you whispered, “That was professional.”

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 1

(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal lifestyles of an underground boxer.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Hello!! This is the first chapter, obviously. I hope you guys are as excited as I am. I have a whirlwind of adventures in store for these two and for all of you! I’d love to hear the thoughts you had while reading, your predictions, what you think of the characters, etc. Any feedback is always welcome. :) Enjoy!!

Melody hadn't been to the sketchy side of the city since her very first semester of college, when she was just wandering and ended up passing by a couple of men with guns tucked into the waistbands of their pants. That was why she felt so apprehensive when the address Cooper asked her to meet him at was in the center of that part of town. She almost didn't show up.

When she was asked out, Melody assumed the date would be out to dinner, or even to the movies, like a normal date. But there was no movie theater where she was headed, and nine o'clock at night seemed a bit late for dinner. Cooper had texted her to "dress casual" along with the mysterious address. When she tried to search the place on Google, nothing had come up except for an abandoned warehouse. She made sure a couple of friends knew where she was going before she left her flat.

The weird feeling in her gut didn't disappear until Melody turned onto the street she was given. There were no cars, but there were crowds of people lining the sidewalks and a constant hum of chatter. It smelled distantly of smoke and garbage.

"I thought you might not come."

Melody gasped at the sound of Cooper's voice. She turned her head to find him standing beside her with a sheepish smile.

"I didn't think about how creepy it was to just give you an address on this side of town with no context. I was just trying to be unpredictable," he explained, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray hoodie. "You look nice."

Melody glanced down at her outfit. She was only wearing leggings and a new t-shirt, which was hidden beneath her jacket. She looked back up at Cooper with a raised eyebrow. "Thanks."

"I already paid for us to get in." Cooper gestured with his head for Melody to follow him and led her across the street, where a building that looked very much like an abandoned warehouse was being fed with the lines of people. Edges of the metallic walls were rusted and a few of the high-set windows were nothing but jagged shards of glass. Cooper skipped the queue and approached a burly-looking bouncer, who was wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the sun setting behind him.

"Woah, where do you think you're going?" the man challenged, stepping menacingly toward the two of them.

Cooper frowned and glanced back at Melody briefly.

"I already paid," Cooper said, pulling a hand from his hoodie to flash the blue stamp on his skin.

"That's great, kid. What about her?" The bouncer nodded his head toward Melody and she glanced at the entrance to this mysterious place. A woman wearing enormous hoop earrings and too much eyeliner was standing impatiently at the door with a giant stack of money in her hands. Melody assumed she collected the entrance fees. She snapped her bubblegum as she waited for the bouncer, who had the hand-stamp, to allow the next person inside. Melody still had no clue what she was doing here.

"I already paid for her, too," Cooper claimed, looking between the bouncer and the woman collecting money. "I just paid for her, like, two minutes ago. I gave you the money and said I was waiting for someone."

The security guard glanced over at the woman and she raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I don't remember that. No one gets in for free, honey. Not unless you're sleeping with one of the boys, and I doubt that." She flashed a grin at her own joke.

"But it wouldn't be for free. I already—" Cooper cut himself off and sighed frustratedly. "You know what? Here. Just take another fifteen dollars." He handed over a few bills and the bouncer looked at Melody expectantly.

"Oh, right." She pulled her hand from her hoodie and held it out for a stamp before the bouncer opened the door for the two of them. The crowds behind them groaned as they cut the queue.

"Sorry about that," Cooper grumbled, letting her pass in front of him to head inside. The door shut behind them, and Melody found herself in a dim hallway, lit only by a single yellow lightbulb. The walls and ceiling were built of steel, and another door was set into the end of the hall. It smelled of sweat and metal. "I always forget what these people are like."

"Where are we?" Melody asked, and she couldn't help the nerves that seeped into her voice. Cooper led her to the other door and opened it for her. A wave of voices rushed through the open door as she stepped through it, and she found herself in the midst of the warehouse.

As Cooper led Melody up a short set of steps, she found that it was just one large, rectangular room, complete with steel walls and a haphazard, bowing roof. There were crowds of people, even more than were outside. Next to the door where they had just entered, back down the steps, a long wooden bar ran along the wall, and at the other end of the bar was an open doorway that led into darkness. Lining the other three walls were blue seats that rose up at an angle, like in an arena. In the center of the room was a square ring, a few feet off the floor, the perimeter strung with ropes.

"What are we doing here?" Melody inquired, glancing around. There were hoards of people shouting at bartenders, who whipped around behind the bar, pouring drinks and collecting money. "What is this, wrestling?"

"Boxing, actually," Cooper corrected. He had the faintest of smiles on his face as he looked around the room, as though the place comforted him in some way.

"Oh," was all that Melody said in reply. This wasn't at all in her frame of interests. She thought about just making a run for it as Cooper began walking toward the seats. But she was already here, and if something interesting happened, it might finally spark her writing inspiration.

Cooper stopped and turned when he noticed that she wasn't following him, waiting patiently, if not slightly nervous. Melody caught up with him, and in a few minutes they had seats on the left side of the bar, halfway up the section. It was a miracle that they found a place to sit.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Cooper asked after a silent minute. He pushed himself up from his chair and peered down at her.

"I'm okay, thanks," Melody responded. She could see the nervous bob of his throat as he gulped and nodded, turning away from her to make his way to the bar. He shook out his clammy hands as he walked.

The makeshift arena was overcrowded by now, with people spilling out into the standing floor area beside the bar. All around her, she heard excited chatter. Down at the bottom of her seating section, right beside the empty ring, were the beginnings of a scuffle between two burly, bearded men. Over the rest of the noise, Melody could here their rumbling yells. She watched as one of the men threw a full cup of beer at the other and then fists began to fly. It was just then that Cooper reappeared, and she made the rash decision to make a quick exit.

"I have to use the bathroom," she lied, standing at the same moment that her date plopped down in the seat beside her. The contents of Cooper's plastic cup nearly sloshed over the rim as he whipped his head up to look at her.

"Oh, do you need me to—"

"No, I think I can find it on my own," she assured him. "Thanks, though."

Melody found herself rolling her eyes when she turned her back, after he flashed her a set of wide, panicky eyes. She appreciated the effort—the attempt at spontaneity (she had surely never been to a boxing match for a date) and the schoolboyish nerves—but she didn't want to have to soothe a boy and make him feel comfortable. She wanted something almost effortless, as cliché as it sounded. She wanted someone with whom she could have a flowing conversation, someone who kept her interest and could still surprise her without trying too hard. She wanted something so powerful that it could weave into a story all on it's own.

"Could you tell me where the bathroom is?" Melody asked as she approached a bartender. Did they even have a bathroom at places like this? Maybe she could find another exit. One that wasn't so obviously placed on its own. She could feel Cooper's gaze on her, even from across the room. The woman behind the bar looked her up and down before pointing toward the open doorway at the end of the bar.

"Through there. All the way to the back on the left."

Melody turned and walked away without another word. She didn't like it here. She didn't like the people or their attitudes or the environment.

After skirting around the bar and a couple of already-drunken spectators, Melody found a long, narrow hallway. Unlike the dim entrance, this area of the building was lit with naked, fluorescent bulbs. It was just as empty, though. The walls were still the same cold gray metal, but there were doors set into the metal, with paper placards labeling each room in scribbled black marker. Her fingers grazed the closest paper as she squinted to read the messy scrawl.

Goodman

That was all it said. No first name, no other information. Melody frowned and stepped away from the door, continuing slowly down the corridor. Her eyes scanned the placards, a few of which boasted various surnames, and a couple which simply supplied "closet."

Melody was startled as a door toward the end of the hall flew open, and she winced at the sound of metal slamming against metal.

"You still have another five minutes before—"

"Shut up."

A man appeared in the narrow corridor, wearing nothing but a loose pair of blue gym shorts, his skin inked in black. Melody watched as he stalked down the hall, winding his long hair up at the back of his head and tying it—forcefully, she noticed. His eyes were trained on the ground. Another man, a bit shorter and fully-clothed with a neater haircut, hurried out of the open door behind the first man and struggled to keep up with him. Melody paused before pressing her back to the wall before she was plowed over. In his distracted hurry, the half-naked man brushed past her, just barely nicking her shoulder with his raised elbow. He and his follower were at the end of the corridor and entering into the small arena before she could take another breath.

After a brief moment, Melody spun her head around. Sure enough, at the very end of the hallway was another door, this one labeled quite clearly with "exit." She didn't continue on, though. Not because she had thought better of ditching Cooper or for any similar reason, but because she knew the man that had breezed past her. She couldn't remember how she knew him or how long ago they had met, but there was something so eerily familiar about him that she couldn't find it in herself to just leave. She was intrigued.

She steeled herself enough to creep back into the main room, where people were just beginning to take notice of the shirtless man now weaving his way through their midst. The shorter man following him was trying to keep up, shouldering against the crowd as it closed in around him. Melody began a path back toward where Cooper was. She couldn't see him over the heads of attentive spectators, now swamping the perimeter of the square ring in the center of the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began an older man dressed in all black who stood in the corner of the raised ring. His voice was projected through invisible speakers somewhere in the room, and ricocheted off of the metal walls. He looked confused as he watched the shirtless man climb up beside him, parting the ropes to get onto the platform. He continued his announcement, nevertheless. "Our first fighter, Mr. Harry Styles."

Melody paused where she stood and assessed the boxer—Harry—as he hopped back and forth on his bare feet, shaking out his tattooed arms. She could barely see him through the mass of heads blocking her vision, but as he twisted around, she caught a clear view of his front. She could see the resemblance, the distantly familiar structure of his face, and she knew exactly who he was.

Chapter 2