jasminehoneytea - Tumblr blog

[jasminehoneytea]

black mirror minimalist wallpapers

here's some wallpapers inspired by iconic black mirror episodes. the colors are all inspired from the episode's pallet! feel free to use, lmk if you do! :D no reblogging necessary haha

[jasminehoneytea]

here’s a cool midsommar wallpaper i made :D feel free to use

[jasminehoneytea]

moonlit ~ r.t

in which late nights with horror movies lead to cuddling and confessing

mood music: these streets - bastille

the best part of a horror movie is the end. the music plays, the credits roll, and you feel a sense of relief. when the screen fades to black, i snap out of my movie daze. i look over at richie, who is way closer than i remember him being at the start. i’m practically on top of him, his arm is wrapped around me. i lift my head up from his chest, already embarrassed at how clingy i got when i was scared.

“oh, uh, i’ll get off of you now. sorry.” i say, starting to sit up. his arm stays locked around me.

“or you could just stay?” i lift my head to meet his eyes. i can tell he’s searching for a reaction and he licks his hips nervously, reaching his free hand up to run it through his hair (which is somehow curlier than usual. somehow). “if you want to, that is...”

i chew the inside corner of my lip to keep myself from giving him too big of a smile. “do you want me to?”

“i mean, you seemed scared...and i don’t want you cold on the floor and-“

i cut off his rambling as i sit up to gain a little leverage. i place both my hands on his chest, making it look like it’s a reflex, but i can see what it does to him. “richie, you gotta say it.”

his eyes narrow. he looks from me, down to the hands resting on his grey beatles t shirt (i had made fun of him for wearing it several times, he claims he actually likes the band and it’s not just to look cool), back up to me. i cock my eyebrows at him just slightly, i’m on to you. he pauses and all we can hear is the hushed ticking of the alarm clock next to us and buzzing of the little television.

i decide to push him one step further. i reach up to play with one of the longer curls that had fallen in front of his face. my eyes never leave his, until his eyelashes flutter shut and he sighs deeply.

“fine.” he grabs my wrist and pulls it away from his hair, although he doesn’t let go. richie opens his eyes and tries to look annoyed, but we both know he’s far from it: he’s entertained. “i think you should - i want you to - stay here.“ i purse my lips, giving him a look that said because why, richie?

“you’re a tease.” he groans, but continues on. “because...i’m still kinda freaked out from this movie.”

i cock my head. and?

he knows me too well. “and i like...having you...here...with me.”

“aw, such a sap, richie! maybe we should watch horror movies more often, who’d know you’d get all romantic?”

i feel him freeze underneath me. “no, no, jesus, not romantic. i just-“

i roll my eyes playfully and shake my head. “i’m kidding, rich.” i slid back down to regain my place leaning on his shoulder. “so serious.” i mutter.

he stays quiet, which seems out of the ordinary but in reality we’re just tired. i can feel him absentmindedly twirling my hair around his fingers. i drum my fingertips gently on his chest. he leans his head on top of mine after a few minutes of quiet, whispering the softest “is this okay?”

“of course,” i murmur. “why wouldn’t it be?” i snuggle further into him and he doesn’t seem to mind, hand still playing with my hair.

“friends don’t do this.”

“says who?” i glance up at him and pout my lip.

he shakes his head slightly and rolls his eyes at me. “everyone. you’re just weird with your cheek kisses and your cuddling.”

“first of all, you started the cheek kissing thing, not me.” i remark, remembering the moment. we were getting ice cream with richie’s friends a couple summers ago. i had forgotten money so he decided to get me an ice cream cone. he even remembered my favorite flavor and everything. we were sitting on picnic tables outside of the ice cream parlor and when he sat down and gave me the ice cream, i grinned like an idiot. he kissed my cheek, almost like he hadn’t even noticed. apparently he hadn’t, because all his friends teased him about it while i hid my red face in my hand.

“fine, but you continued it!” he grumbles, poking my cheek. i narrow my eyes at him teasingly, knowing neither of us could ever be serious with each other. he chuckles softly and i love that i can study his laugh when i’m next to him.

“i like it when you kiss me.” i say suddenly, instantly regretting the wording of it.

“what?” he murmurs against my hair.

i hold my breath, embarrassed. “sorry. that sounds weird.” my face heats up and although i’m thankful the room is dark, the full moon outside illuminates his face perfectly. i could almost perfectly trace the line where the shadow mets the light

“no...no...” richie kisses the top of my head softly. “it’s cute.”

“flirt.” i jab at his chest.

he rolls his eyes, something he apparently can’t seem to get enough of, and ruffles my hair. “like you weren’t on top of me earlier, twirling my hair around your fingers and everything.” he says.

the corners of my mouth twitch up and i reach around to mess with one of his curls again. “you live for this.”

“i do.”

there’s a long pause, a comfortable silence filled with the sounds of the crickets outside, flickering streetlights, and the occasional car passing by.

even though it was soft and peaceful, richie’s words rang through my ears.

friends don’t do this

it’s all i can think of. what did he mean by it? why didn’t i realize what he meant when he first said it? does he not want to be my friend? do i make him uncomfortable? and it’s too much, i have to ask.

“rich?”

he hums against the top of my head sleepily.

“did you mean it?”

“hmm?” he hums again, sitting up a bit and rubbing underneath his eyes. i feel bad for waking him up as he was finally drifting up off to sleep, but i have to ask him

i take a deep breath. “friends don’t do this.” i murmur. i look up at him and his eyes crinkle with a look of sadness and all i can think is oh god.

he pauses for a long time, carefully crafting his words, which he never does. “i did.”

i inhale sharply and move away from him, about to stand up from the bed and let him kick me out. but his hand that’s around my shoulders holds me tightly and gently pulls me back down. i don’t lean back against him, but his arm still lays around me. “not like that, love.” i can feel tears sting my eyes and all i can do is be embarrassed. i purse my lips and turn my head away from him as my cheeks burn and i blink rapidly. i don’t think i can say anything, there’s a lump in my throat. “look. it’s not what you think...i just...”

he pauses again.

“i don’t want to be friends.” he says. i swear i can hear my heart shatter. then, “not just friends.”

my breath hitches in my throat.

he sighs deeply. “i don’t know if it’s love. but i can’t go much longer pretending like i don’t look at you the way i do. i can’t be with you like this...i-i want something more.” he finishes and i can feel his heart pounding in his chest. i know mine is too, i don’t even bother teasing him.

"richie?”

“yeah?” his voice sounds broken.

i push myself over to him to look him in the eyes. it’s hard to see in the dark but he’s still there, avoiding my gaze.

and then i kiss him.

i kiss him.

i’m kissing richie fucking tozier.

and i love every second of it.

of course, it’s hardly a kiss. it‘s featherlike and it’s over as soon as it started, but i love it. and the second i pull away, richie’s hand snakes up and pulls me back to his lips. he kisses me hard but his lips are so soft, it doesn’t make any sense. i grip his shirt in one hand and slide my other hand up to his cheek. the second i ball his shirt up in my first and tug on it, he sighs softly and pulls away. “you’re fuckin killing me, babe.”

i just grin and giggle as he pulls me back to his lips. he tastes like the cherry slushees that i had brought with me when i snuck into his room. this was an occurrence that happened at least once a week: it was always either richie knocking on my window at two in the morning with slushees in hand or him begging me at the the quarry to bring him seven-eleven and watch movies that night. he had even snuck an old tv from his basement up into his room. god, i couldn’t be happier that i came over tonight.

he draws me out of my thoughts by lightly biting on my bottom lip. i automatically gasp (because holy shit) and he laughs teasingly against me. i didn’t think he’d be such a good kisser. i tell him that and he just laughs.

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“oh yeah, like what?” it’s impossible. richie and i spend way too much time together to have any secrets from each other.

well, maybe except for the ‘wanting to make out with each other’ one.

“like how i quit smoking because you said you thought it was gross. or how i slip money into your sweatshirt pockets because i feel bad whenever you buy us slushees. or like how i grew my hair out longer because one time you mentioned how you preferred guys who had hair that was just a little long. or like how you mentioned you liked the chronicles of narnia when you were a kid so i read all of them in two weeks. i actually kind of liked them too. or like how-“

“richie.”

“yeah?”

“kiss me again.”

“gotcha.”

[jasminehoneytea]

“you alright?” i ask spencer as he walks by. his brows are furrowed in contemplation. he paces back in forth, fiddling with the the seams of his pockets.

“yeah, just thinking.” he reassured me.

“you’re always thinking.” i say, raising my eyebrows.

spencer smiles and murmurs “you caught me”. he slides behind my chair and i feel a quick kiss on my cheek, gone faster than it happened. my first instinct is to smile, but then it hits me.

“spence.” i say quickly, whipping around in my chair to look at him.

he freezes, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. we both know what’s about to come.

“what the hell was that?”

i curse under my breath and meet the bewildered gaze of aaron hotchner. “are you two...?

i look over at spencer, then back at the several agents who are watching us. “we were so good, spencer.”

he purses his lips and nods slowly, turning around and stepping behind my chair, resting his hands on the back of it. “it...was bound to come out eventually.”

“wait, can someone explain what the hell is going on?” derek asks as he enters the bullpen, penelope grinning behind him.

“these two are dating.” she says, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet excitedly.

derek laughs. “for how long?”

i tilt my head up to make eye contact with spencer. “you wanna tell them or should i?”

spencer shakes his head. “i got us into this.” he sighs. “about seven months now. we, uh, wanted to wait to tell you guys until we were really serious.”

penelope giggles. “seven months isn’t serious enough?”

“we had to be sure, we both agreed we would wait for another month or so.” i explain.

“yeah, which is why i didn’t realize the mistake i made until after it happened...” spencer adds. i reach up and squeeze his hand gently.

aaron sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “you know there’s paperwork.”

i can hear spencer inhale sharply behind me. “we know.”

“i cant believe the way you two exposed yourself was because reid couldn’t refrain from kissing you on the cheek.” derek says with a chuckle. “that’s the most vanilla shit i’ve ever heard.”

i bite back a laugh, i could practically hear spencer blushing. “he does it all the time at home, it’s like a natural thing at this point.”

“wait, you guys live together?” penelope squeals.

now it’s my turn to freeze up. spencer sighs but i can hear the laugh in his tone. “look at what you’ve done now.” he leans down and whispers in my ear before kissing my cheek again. i watch him walk back to his desk, hands in his pockets as he returns to his work.

“i don’t even know what to think anymore.” derek says, hands raised in shock.

i place my head in my hands, looking over at spencer at his desk. he gives me tiny smile and i cant help but laugh.

we’re in for one hell of a ride.

[jasminehoneytea]

on the jet

even though private jets can travel at up to 500 miles an hour, the clouds moved by so slowly. the sunrise was just now overtaking the dark blue of the night, a blend of orange and blush pink foreshadowing a warm sunny morning.

“mind if i join you?” a voice asks quietly to not disturb the sleeping agents around us.

i rip my gaze from the window and turn my head to see spencer standing with two steaming mugs. i give him the best smile i could and pat the seat next to me. he hands me a mug, too light for a normal cup of coffee but i’ll take whatever i can get. “i tried to get your coffee order right, i just-“

“i like all coffee, spence. thank you.”

he nods and i hold the mug to my cheek, trying to get some sort of warmth. “you alright? you haven’t slept and you...you only do that when you’re tired or upset.”

damn profilers.

i sigh lightly. “you’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?” he dips his head to hide embarrassment. i nudge his shoulder softly with my own. “i’m alright. this case just took a lot out of me and considering that we didn’t get on the jet till 3 am, i just thought i’d rather watch the sunrise than have a nightmare.”

“that’s a very you thing to do.” spencer says.

i laugh. he might know me too well. i lift the mug from my cheek and bring it to my lips, sipping slowly. it’s not bad, considering who made it. “we still have ways to go.” he says.

“yeah.”

“once the sun rises all the way, you should try to sleep. then you won’t miss anything.”

“you know how terribly that would mess up my sleep schedule, reid.”

it’s his turn to bump my shoulder gently. “sleep’s important.”

“did you sleep at all?”

spencer chuckles and shrugs. “i tried.”

“we’re in the same boat then, doctor reid. besides, it’s hard to sleep when i don’t have a pillow to hold on to”

“you cuddle with a pillow to fall asleep?” spencer grins teasingly.

i roll my eyes and fixate back on the now more vivid colors outside the window: coral striped across lavender. “reid, unless you have a better idea, you can’t judge.”

i look over at him studying the swirls in his drink, which was more of a sugar bowl rather than coffee. he’s quiet for a while, like he wants to say something but he knows he shouldn’t. i decide against asking him what it’s about.

my eyes land on a book that’s about to fall out of his overflowing satchel and an idea pops into mind. “reid?”

“hm?” his eyes are more tired than he lets on.

“read to me? that might help...y’know...with sleeping and stuff.” apparently exhaustion prohibits my ability to speak somewhat intelligently.

reid pauses and i catch him bite back a smile. he reaches into his satchel. “i would, but all of these books are in the original russian translation and i’m afraid that���s not very calming.”

“translate them for me.”

reid shakes his head. “that takes me too long.”

i roll my eyes. in spencer reid’s mind, ‘taking too long’ is just an extra second or two. “all of them are in russian?”

“yes, well, except...” he trails off and reaches for his coffee.

i sit up and narrow my eyebrows. “except...?”

he mumbles into his mug. “no, all of them.”

“liar.” that’s all i have to say. he can’t get anything past me and he knows it. same goes for me.

he gives in and i lean over his shoulder to watch him pull out a thin paperback. it was faded and worm, the name ‘poe’ was the only thing printed on the cover in a tiny typewriter font. the pages were pale with gold tips. it was simple but perfectly spencer reid. “i keep this little book of poems with me. my mom gave it to me a long time ago.” he says. “when i, uh...” he pauses to clear his throat lightly. “whenever i’m feeling...” a pause. “i read it to calm down. that’s all.”

“that’s a very you thing to do.” i repeat his words from earlier. he sits up straighter and opens the book, thumb running across the edge of the cover. the book looks like it’s meant for only his hands. i watch the way he looks at it, a warm nostalgia fading into his eyes.

spencer asks which poems he should read. “if you read annabel lee, i’ll cry.” i tell him.

“oh so you do know his poems?”

“doesn’t everyone?” i ask, slowly resting my head on his shoulder and preparing for him to move away. surprisingly he doesn’t. what’s more surprising was while he flips through the pages, he slips his arm around me, resting on my waist. he does it so instinctively, i wonder if he even notices.

“i’m gonna read annabel lee.”

“spence what did i j-“

“it was many and many a year ago...”

[jasminehoneytea]

cold coffee, cold toast - s.r

the toaster dings as i pour coffee into my favorite mug. i just made a fresh pot, hoping that maybe just the smell of coffee would wake me up a little more. setting my coffee cup in front of me at the granite island, i don’t reach for the toast, just rest my tired head in my hands. i pull my sweater sleeves past my hands and rub the soft clothing against my cheeks. coffee, toast, sweater.

and spencer still isn’t home.

what scares me the most was the lack of attention my phone was getting. i haven’t touched or reached for it in hours. i’ve expected a call, a text, anything to tell me spencer would be home late. the last time he had texted was to tell me he was on his way home. that was at nine last night. it‘s now six in the morning. i always told him i’d wait up for him, no matter how late it was. and even if he wasn’t coming home, even if the jet had to turn around and send him on his new case, even if he had been hurt, i would have gotten a text.

but there‘s nothing.

i close my eyes, listening to the heaving hitting of the rain against the walls of the apartment, thinking of every bad thing that could have happened to him, every single person he’s ever put away that might have just snapped, every possible way he could have gotten hurt.

then, the doorknob turns. my eyes shoot open at the sound. the door opened, and there he was. a weight lifts off my chest at the sight of him. “oh, thank god.” i whisper to no one other than myself, pushing away from the table and immediately wrapping my arms around his neck, something we had always done whenever one of us came home. but his hands don’t meet my waist like they always do. there’s no thud sound of his bag hitting the floor, no feeling of his head dropping in the crook of my neck, no kiss planted wherever it could reach. instead, he’s stiff, still, stoic. my eyes meet his, red and shiny.

“what happened?”

“i can’t be with you anymore.” he breathes out.

i feel my arms instantly drop to my sides and i step back. my stomach drops, my heart stops, everything feels hazy. “w-what?” my voice can’t reach above a shaky whisper.

“i’m sorry. i can’t keep doing this to you.” he pushes past me and towards our room, clearly ready to pack up everything he owns rather than what we own together.

i can’t move, i feel frozen as i watch him until he’s grabbed whatever he can as he starts to walk towards the door. suddenly something hits me - i wake up from the haze. “spencer.” i blurt out, he doesn’t say anything. “spencer. stop! jesus christ, spencer just stop for a second.” still no response, so i grab the nearest object to me as a last resort. “spencer reid if you walk out that door i will have no choice other than throwing these scissors at you.” i exclaim, holding the scissors out in front of me.

surprisingly, that works. he stands still, takes a shaky breath, and turns to face me. his eyes are dark and glossy and it breaks my heart. at the soft sound of his whispering my name, i sigh, setting the scissors down and stepping towards him. “what are you even doing right now?” i ask softly.

“you don’t deserve this. it’s unfair to you. you deserve someone who can be there for you, someone better than me.”

“spencer, i-“

“why are you laughing?”

i didn’t even realize i was laughing, but alas, a tiny smile graces my face. “because this is fucking ridiculous, spence! you’re not breaking up with me.”

“i-“

“no, you’re not. you wanna know why?” i don’t give him a chance to respond. “because i don’t deserve better than you. there’s no one better than you. you’re all i ever wanted. don’t you see that?”

a silence hits us and all we can hear is the rain.

“that’s not true,” he says. “you can do better than me.”

“i don’t want better than you, spence. jesus fucking christ. i love you, and i thought you loved me.”

“i do love you.”

“then why do you want to end this?”

“i don’t-“

“neither do i! this isn’t how we do things. you don’t just get to walk away.”

spencer’s hands move to his face, tiredly running a hand through his hair. “i can’t keep hurting you like this, i can’t keep coming home late, i can’t keep you awake waiting for me,” he sighs and blinks away tears. “i just want you to be happy.”

“i never said i was unhappy. i’ve been the happiest i’ve been in a long time because of you. i don’t care if you’re never around, or if you’re home impossibly late, because i love you no matter what. okay?” i take another step closer and rest my hands around on his chest, sliding them up to his neck. “spencer?”

“okay.” he murmurs. “i’m sorry, i just-“

“i know.” i pull him into a hug. his arms slip around my waist like they should have been minutes ago. it’s second nature, him tugging me to his chest. his head falls to my neck and he breathes in deeply. he presses a tiny kiss to my shoulder and hugs me even tighter. “spence, you’re gonna break my ribs. you’re stronger than you realize.” i mumble, trying to breathe the best i can.

“i love you.” he says instead of releasing me. i whisper it back and he loosens his grip, still holding me tight. i look over at the coffee on the table, the toast still in the toaster. they’re cold, so is spencer, still soaked from the rain. everything around me feels cold right now.

i let spencer warm me up.

[jasminehoneytea]

donuts - s.r

“guess what i brought!” i exclaim, making my daily morning entrance into the BAU conference room. i balance a tray of coffees in one hand and a second tray on top of a box in the other, delicately setting them down on the table.

a collected gasp of excitement and “donuts!” rings through the air and i grin. i live for making the team’s morning a little bit brighter before we descend into the darker aspect of our job.

“first of all, you’re magical. second of all, i love you.” penelope says, first to get to the coffee tray. she leans over to give me a big hug.

i start taking coffees of out of the tray and passing them around. “reid, i hope this is enough sugar for you. i genuinely can’t tell how much is too much when it comes to your coffee.” i say handing him his cup.

he takes it and smiles at me. i relish in it for a second. “no sugar is too much sugar.” his eyes meet mine. “thank you, though.” i turn away, feeling my face heat up, but spender speaks up again. “you did get-“

“chocolate with sprinkles, yes, even though that is the most cliché and boring donut you could get. even old fashioned is better than that.”

i hear derek laugh loudly as the others snicker. “okay then, if you’re such a donut aficionado, which is the best donut?” spencer asks, an offended look on his face.

i flip open the box and gesture to him. “easy. strawberry with sprinkles. or boston cream but i saved that for morgan.” i say. morgan hugs me from the side and grabs the donut.

“you’re an angel.” he says, squeezing my shoulder and taking a bite out of his donut.

reid starts bickering with me, and i shut him up by handing him his donut. he mumbles a quiet “thank you” that’s so unexplainably adorable, i have to surprise a smile by taking a sip of my coffee

“coffee?” hotch asks as he enters the conference room.

“and donuts!” emily says, mouthful of blueberry glazed.

hotch looks down at the box, then over at me. “do i-“

“yes, hotch, i got you coffee and a donut. two actually, because sometimes you forget to eat breakfast and hangry hotchner terrifies me.” i say, giggling at the laughter i receive. hotch purses his lips to hold back his smile but i can already see it, and it’s good enough for me.

he takes a donut and thanks me, sitting down next to jj, who is way too invested in her coffee. “garcia, let’s get this started.”

-

“wheels up in 30.” hotch says, grabbing his last donut and being the first to leave the room. i stay behind and clean up, brushing crumbs off the table and throwing napkins into the empty box. my uneaten donut sits next to my belongings as i pack up.

“you’re amazing.”

i look up to see spencer leaning against the teacher, satchel slung over his shoulder.

“oh, thanks, spence.” i smile.

“no, i’m serious. you’re incredible.”

“all i did was stop at dunkin’ donuts on the way here.” i say, taking a bite of my donut and savoring the sugary taste of artificial strawberry.

“no you don’t get it. you have everyone’s coffee orders memorized. you even know their favorite donuts. you basically make it your job within your real job to make everyone smile. you can even get hotch to smile every day, and he tries so hard not to. you’re such a ray of sunshine and you don’t even realize it.”

“awh, spence.” i say. “that’s like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” he looks down at me with this beautiful smile on his face. “i just like to see everyone smile. it’s nice to make their mornings a little brighter before we have to see some really dark shit, you know?” i add, grabbing my bag, donut, and coffee. “see you on the jet.” i say slipping past him.

a hand catches my wrist and i’m pulled face to face with spencer reid. he spends no time grabbing the sides of my face and pulling me closer to him. his lips slam onto mine. shocked, i don’t know where to put my hands so i fumble to set my things down on the table and choose to lock them around his waist. his slide to my neck and to the small of my back. i have to stand on my toes to reach him all the way, him noticing the slight height difference and dropping his hands to my hips and lifting me up a bit. we finally pull away, breathing heavily. i drop back down, holding on to his bicep as my legs feel like they’re about to collapse.

still wanting more, he leans down and kisses me quickly once, twice, three more times.

“i’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you first sat at your desk.”

“i’ve got you beat.” i say, practically gasping for air as i speak. “i saw you the moment i walked in for an interview with hotch.”

he chuckles. “i kissed you first though.”

“you got me there.” i say, noticing how hot my face feels. i reach over and grab my donut, taking a bite.

spencer immediately tilts my chin up to capture my lips with his own. “maybe i do like strawberry donuts.” he says, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. my eyes widen and my throat suddenly feels dry.

“well, you haven’t tried the real thing.” i choke out.

“maybe i like it better on you.” he replies, eyes practically burning a hole into me.

i can feel my face heat up even more as i gasp out, ”jesus christ spence, are you trying to kill me?”

“no, not yet.”

“what?”

“well, i have to take you out for coffee and donuts first, don’t i? gotta show you that chocolate with sprinkles is the superior donut.”

i bite the corners of my mouth to make sure my smile isn’t too big. “when?”

“after this case?”

i nod. “can’t wait.”

spencer smiles, gaze lingering on me for a few seconds before he adjusts his satchel. “i’ll save you a seat on the plane, then?”

i nod. “yeah.”

—-

bonus:

hotch slides into the seat across from spencer and i. “you know...” he begins slowly. “our conference room has windows. so if you’re going to...i don’t know...break some rules...”

i groan, shoving my face into my hands.

“you might want to do it somewhere else, that’s all i’m saying.”

“oh my god.” i mumble. spencer just laughs and puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly.

i hear hotch stand up and go back to his seat. i loft my head up bleakly, feeling mortified.

“can we finally talk about that kiss though? i didn’t know reid had that in him.” emily says.

“oh my GOD.”

[jasminehoneytea]

birds ~ s.u

using lyrics from the song birds by thomas sanders

i don’t want to drive a fancy car today,

i don’t want to ride in a red corvette.

i don’t want to blow my saturday away,

but i don’t want to go home yet.

“stanley!”

the curly haired boy turns his head to the side. i give him an excited wave and he waves back. his wave is smaller and less energetic than mine, but at least he waved. i jog closer to him to say hello. he’s sitting on an old wooden dock over the little lake that’s been colored pink by the sunset. he looks beautiful in this lighting, although i could never tell him that.

“what are you doing here? i didn’t think you knew this lake existed.” i say with a smile, smoothing down my hair.

he turns to face me, sitting criss cross with a notepad and pencil in his lap. “it’s, uh, it’s actually my favorite place to go to.”

“really? not the quarry?” i recall all the times i had joined stanley and his friends to jumping off the cliffs rocks into the water together.

stanley shakes his head. “we always go to the quarry. this place...is special, i guess.” he glances over me for a second. “you can sit down, if you want.” he adds shyly.

i give him another smile and join him on the dock. it creaks slightly with every little movement we make, but stan doesn’t seem to mind. “what makes it so special?” i ask.

he shrugs. “i guess i just need some quiet every now and then. i took a walk once a few years ago and kind of just found this lake. i never even knew it was here, no one’s ever mentioned it before.”

i nod knowingly. “i’m the same way. quiet is good sometimes.”

“yeah, if only the other losers realized that.” he chuckles. i giggle and lean back on my hands, admiring the way the sky looks and how the colors reflect on the water.

“a lot of birds come here too.” stan says.

i just wanna watch the birds go by

from my handy foldable blue canvas throne

i wanna watch them fly and fly

and see them soar up into the unknown

“oh, right, you’re the birdwatcher of the group, aren’t you?”

he laughs. “i don’t think that’s a common thing amongst friend groups, but yeah.”

a long pause finds its way between our words as we both find ourselves lost in thought. then, i ask, “what kind of birds come here?”

“there’s not a lot of unique birds in derry.” stanley answers.

trying to spot a lark

in the park

parked in nature all alone

i hum in response and decide to take a bold move and move closer to him so that our fingertips are just barely touching. he looks down and instinctively moves his hand away before realizing what i was doing. i look away, pretending to be focusing on the sunset when, in reality, i’m watching him through the corner of my eye. he warily puts his hand down over mine, immediately glancing up to see my reaction. i smile towards the lake and he seems to relax just a bit.

“tell me about them anyways.” i say.

“you really want to listen to me ramble on about birds?”

i nod, biting my tongue to keep myself from telling him that i would do anything to just hear his voice. even if i had to listen to him talk about sedimentary rocks, i would still find every bit as interesting. birds, however, were more pleasant.

stanley looks over at me quickly before focusing back on the lake. i sneak a glance or two and he looks a little confused, but excited. i like when he gets all excited about birds. it’s adorable.

“tell me what you like about them. tell me everything.”

“everything?”

“yeah. i want to know.” my eyes land on a small brown bird swooping around the edge of the lake. “like that one, what’s that?”

he smiles. “that’s a swallow. you can tell because of their tail.” he moves closer to me, his hand lifting from mine to sit on the other side of me. i can feel his breath on my cheek. it’s definitely on purpose, but i don’t mind one bit. “see how it’s pointed on two ends like that?”

i smile. “it’s got a wishbone for a tail.”

he laughs quietly. “i never thought about it that way.”

each little species

in its little way can teach me what awaits you

if you can get away

i listen as stanley murmurs a few things about swallows, like how they’re called “birds of freedom” because they can’t survive in captivity, or how they’re fond of barns and open fields with a nearby lake or pond. his breath hitches as i tilt my head to rest on his shoulder and he stumbles over a few words before getting back on track. his words trail off for a bit before i ask about another bird species and he gets all excited again.

“it’s nice, birdwatching, y’know?” he says out of the blue when a lull finds its way into the conversation. “it gives me a reason to take a break from everything. it’s not that i don’t like the real world, sometimes i just need a break from everyone talking so much. everything we focus on is about...y’know...It. i’d rather...just...i don’t know, take a break from all of it and talk about something nicer. like birds. birds are free, and they’re kind. and even when they get loud, they sound beautiful. they don’t seem to be too worried about the kind of stuff we’re worried about. and sometimes they’re not loud, they’re soft and quiet. i like it when it’s quiet.”

i wanna watch from somewhere undisturbing

quiet, calm, still

sit right here and gaze at the unknown

i lift my head up to look at him closely, a small smile playing on my face. he looks over at me quickly and then looks down at his hands. a brush creeps on to his face and he smiles bashfully. “sorry, i was talking too much.” he says softly.

“no, no. don’t be. i like hearing you talk, stan.”

“you do?” he finally meets my eyes.

i shake my head. “you always have something good to talk about. like birds.”

he chuckles and mumbles a bashful ‘thanks’.

we sit there for a while, quietly searching for birds that are getting harder to find as the sun set farther and farther down. the night is still warm and the crickets began to chirp as the sky turned a dark rose. we talk softly, asking each other whatever strange question come into our heads.

“i should probably get going before it gets cold.” i say, standing up. stanley’s hand catches mine.

“wait. stay a little longer.”

i can feel my smile growing. “a little longer?”

“or forever?” i can still see his tiny smile in the dark.

i don't wanna fly

in the sky

i just wanna be alone

[jasminehoneytea]

smug ~ b.h

“ben has a crush on you!”

“KLAUS.”

“what? i had to! i’m sick of you talking about how in love you are.”

“i’m not in love-“ ben pauses and turns to me instead. “i’m not in love with you.”

“would it be so bad if you were?” i don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but i’ve decided to go with it.

he blinks twice, staring at me with those dark eyes. i stare right back. i wish i knew what he was thinking. i hear klaus stumble out of the garden to give us privacy but my eyes don’t leave ben’s.

he swipes his tongue over his lip nervously before saying, “seventeen is...” he clears his throat softly. “seventeen is too...too young to...be in love...with someone.” his words come out slow, like he’s afraid to mess up what he’s saying, or that he’ll slip up and say something he’s too scared to admit. i decide to take control of the situation, slide over to him, laying down and resting my chin in my hands just so i can look up at him.

“says who?”

i think i like making him nervous. it’s not my fault he looks that cute: fingers twirling around a blade of grass he’s picked and eyes flickering everywhere. and it’s definitely not my fault that a few waves fell loose from his slicked back hair, and that he doesn’t wear his uniformed blazer in the summer and decides to roll up the sleeves of his white collared shirt, purposely missing just one or two buttons on the top to make him look like he’s out of a jane austen novel.

i didn’t ask him to do that.

he doesn’t say anything and neither do i, just to mess him for a bit. i stare at him for a few moments before playing with a dandelion.

he clears his throat again.

“sorry, did you need something?”

“you’re going to play it that way, aren’t you?”

i nod. “it’s fun to make you squirm.”

ben doesn’t reply. i’m used to him being quiet. quiet ben hargreeves with a book and cup of green tea (iced with lemon in the summer, hot with honey in the winter) always in hand. i liked being quiet with him, it was nice to get away from the chaos of life and, for him, the chaos of his family. but this time, the quiet feels strange. a minute goes by and i can still feel his eyes on me. i try to not humor him, to not meet his gaze, but i can’t tell if he’s actually looking at me or if i’m just crazy, so i look up and there he is: ben hargreeves staring right at me.

and yet, even though he’s nervous, he’s still got that playfully flirty glint in his eyes as he looks down at me. he still looks at me like he knows something about us that i don’t. i didn’t ask for that either.

and now i’m the one who’s nervous.

“don’t look at me like that.“ i quip.

he murmurs a ‘like what?’, even though he knows exactly what he’s doing, and i watch as he takes the leatherbound book that’s been resting on his legs (which, by the way, are crossed at the ankles and it’s absolutely so ben of him to do) and set it on the grass next to him. a bold move really, putting his own book aside and giving me his undivided attention.

i squint at him and push myself up by the elbows so that i’m kneeling, trying to be at least a little taller than him. “all smug like that. stop it.” he’s still looking at me and for once in the thirteen years that i’ve known ben hargreeves, i can’t tell what this expression means.

we keep alternating between being nervous and smug. i think, deep down, we’re nervous and just covering it up by flirting. but now i don’t know what to think.

he doesn’t even bother to respond. then, strangely enough, a smirk rises to his face. i start with a “what are you doing?” but i don’t even make it past ‘you’. his head swoops down to capture my lips in his and at first, i don’t know what to do. his hand reaches up to hold my arm, which i’m thankful for due to the fact that i’m about to fall over. i make sure to kiss him back and that he knows i’m kissing him back. i lift my hands from the grass, warm from the sun, to grab onto him for stability (and let’s be honest, i love being in his arms). he lets me run my hand in his hair, messing up its perfection, while the other rests on his chest. he laughs against my lips when i twirl his hands through mine and i couldn’t be more happy. we pull back for a quick second to breathe before i kiss him, wanting to be the one to initiate it this time.

“does this make us...anything?” i ask when he reluctantly moves away. he leans his cheek against the tree and watches me.

“do you want it to?” his voice is shaky, but in a cute way.

“do you want it to?” i ask.

he nods slowly, contemplating. i stare at him until he looks down at me and gives me a teasing smile. “what, am i supposed to act like i haven’t wanted this since we were twelve?”

“five!” klaus’ distant voice calls from inside. the window has been popped open and the curtains drawn aside. ben’s cheeks heat up and he goes quiet again.

i snicker. “so you are in love with me. not so smug now, are we, benny boy?”

he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the nickname he’s pretended to hate for thirteen years. do you not remember about two minutes ago when i had you melting underneath me?”

“right, like you weren’t stuttering seconds before that.” i grin.

he scoffs, feigning offendance. he gives me a sharp glare as he says, “i may just have to kiss you again.”

“oh, what a tragedy.” i exclaim as he grabs my wrists to pull me to him.

we’re kissing and i ignore the impulse to tell him that his lips taste like iced green tea. with lemon. i do however, follow my instinct to tangle my hand in his hair. i know he’ll complain about it any moment, and he does stop kissing me for a nanosecond to roll his eyes at me and bump his nose against mine.

“is it always going to be like this?” he asks in between breaths. i ask him what he means and he smiles. “the two of us teasing back and forth until the one kisses the other. are we going to do this forever?”

i grin back. “yes, obviously, and we’ll talk about books and films too, like always. it’ll be just like normal but with a lot more handholding.”

“handholding?” he promptly interlocks our hands. i still keep one on the back of his neck to play with his hair.

“i like holding your hand.” i tell him. he raises his eyebrows questioningly and i know i’m blushing, but we’ve both had red cheeks for minutes now.

he makes a flirty comment and i swat his cheek gently. “hey, don’t look all smug.”

[jasminehoneytea]

top of the staircase ~ j.m

“joel, wait.”

he’s walking ahead of me, arms swinging against his sides.

“joel!” i repeat, “slow down.”

he turns around to face still walking. “how can i? no, scratch that, how could she?” he spins back around to face forward as i attempt to catch up with him.

“you’re making this more than it actually is, joel.” i’m close enough to hear him mock me under his breath. “why is this hurting you so much?” i ask, panting as we reach his doorstep. he finds a seat close to the top of the staircase and immediately lights a cigarette. he’s shaking his head, refusing to meet my eyes. i take a seat a few steps below him and lean against the cool railing. he looks up and his eyes flit around him, like he’s looking for someone.

he’s looking for her.

and suddenly, everything clicks in to place and it feels like the world stops turning.

“you still love her.”

the words burn against my tongue, but i say them anyway. he exhales, less of a frustrated sigh and more of a sigh of defeat. a sigh that says: ‘you’ve figured it out, haven’t you?’

i wait for answer.

two heartbeats pass. and then:

“i don’t-i mean, i did...i...” he looks down at his hands, then back up at me. “i don’t know.”

“you do know, joel.”

he smiles cynically and takes another puff of his cigarette before stuffing it in the ash tray. “you’re smart.”

“i know.”

“it’s over between her and i.” he says. i don’t believe it, i don’t know if he does either. i nod curtly.

a shiver runs through my body. with the night breeze and the hushed whispered between the two of us, i can’t stop the shaking of my shoulders. joel notices. he slides off his coat without a second thought and slings it around me. i shake my head, telling him not to do this to me, but i still pull the corners of the lapel together to feel a bit of warmth. it smells like his cigarettes and cologne, but i always liked the smell of the smoke. i move up a step on the staircase, so that i’m right under him. i sit between his legs and feel his arms around mine, holding me close to him. he leans his head on his shoulder, leaving a feathery kiss on my jaw. i reach my hand up, leaving it on his cool cheek.

“what are we gonna do?” it’s less of a question and more of a whisper.

i angle my head slightly so it leans against his. i can feel the fluttering of lashes against my temple. he tightens his hold on me and i breathe in his scent, the scent of the evening, and the scent of the breeze.

“you know i can’t stay.” i tell him.

“i know.” he kisses my cheek, then my jaw, then my neck.

“she’ll come here, running after you.”

i feel his lashes flutter again, his eyes shutting.

“i know.”

“she’s not trying to hurt you. she’s just good at what she does.”

he pauses this time. he swallows thickly before murmuring in a hoarse voice, “i know.”

i take his hands and remove them from around my midriff. i reach up to take off his coat, he takes it begrudgingly. i want to kiss him, i really do. the way he’s looking down at me, a cement step above me, with that sad look on his face. he shouldn’t look that pretty, but he does.

i don’t kiss him. if i did, i wouldn’t be able to stop. neither would he. i cup his cheek gingerly, tracing my fingers along his cheekbone, but he catches my wrist and whispers a faint ‘don’t’. i purse my lips and nod. he releases my hand and his go into his coat pockets. he’s giving me this look, this melancholy gaze, and i can practically hear his voice in my head saying ‘i don’t want to see you go’.

“close your eyes.” i mumble. his brows furrow and i stare at him, waiting. his eyes flutter and shut. “count to ten.” the corners of his mouth twitch before falling once realization washes over him.

he murmurs, “one” and i take a step back. i want to turn away but i can’t. “two.” i kiss his cheek and press my forehead against his until he gets to a shaky four. i walk down the steps, forcing myself not to look back.

i’m halfway down the street before i give in and turn around. he’s still standing there, his eyes closed with that beautiful sad expression and his hands stuffed in his pockets. his lips are moving slightly and i can tell that he’s reached ten. his eyes open and i swear that he wipes a tear away. he steps up to the top of the staircase, sits, and lights a cigarette.

when she gets to him, i’m already gone.

[jasminehoneytea]

choice ~ f.h

“you killed people.”

“i had no choice. they turned me into a weapon, a gun.”

“you pulled the fucking trigger, number five.”

“you know why i did it?” he whips his head around, stabilizing himself on a desk chair. “to get back here. to my family, to you.”

i shake my head. “there were other ways.”

he scoffs and takes a swig of the remaining whiskey on the desk, slamming the empty cup down, enough to hear a crack slice through the glass. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“i know goddamn well.”

he sits down on the bed in defeat. i make an effort to get up and move across the room. he winces slightly, so i can tell that i got to him. “i didn’t have a choice,” he repeats, staring at his hands.

“there’s always a choice five. you made the wrong one.”

he’s trying not to cry, but i can see his glistening eyes. he doesn’t like crying in front of me. he refuses to look at me, but i can see a tear slid down his cheek. he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. the room is deathly quiet, but i’m shaking so badly i feel like he could hear it.

“so what are you saying?” five breaks the silence. “that our friendship is over? that you’re just going to leave me?”

i close my eyes and exhale slowly. “i don’t know, five,” because i really don’t. what do you do when you find out your best friend is a killer? the one person who’s been there for you your whole life. how do you look them in the eyes when all you see is the lifeless glare of a murderer?

it’s like i’m inside their heads, the heads of all his victims, his ‘missions’. i can feel their fear, their loss. it’s drowning me.

“i have to get out of here.” i whisper, more to myself rather than him. i turn to the door, my hand resting on the handle before five stops me.

“you’re really going to do this, after all these years? you’re really just going to leave everything behind?” i look behind my shoulder. his head is in his hands, he’s shaking too.

“how can i stay, knowing what you are?”

“how can you leave, knowing who i really am?”

silence again. my heart is pounding in my chest. i can’t breathe. i try to say something but my throat feels dry and my voice is scarce. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.

maybe there’s nothing wrong with me, maybe it’s just him.

“i don’t even think i know who you are.” i whisper. i don’t even know if he can hear me.

five lifts his head. he can hear me.

he stands up and walks towards me. my first reaction is to walk backwards, get as far away from him as possible. but i don’t; i stand my ground. five takes my hands in his and i look down at this familiar thirteen year old standing in front of me. only it’s not the same, there’s something in him that’s changed.

“i’m still me,” he says. i don’t believe him. how could i? “it can be just like old times, just like when we were kids, when we were inseparable friends.”

for a moment i almost fall for it. but then i finally meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like ages and i still see that dark void, that shimmerless expression. like all the light that was once in him had finally flickered and burnt out.

i rip my hands away from him, backing away.

“no.”

i can see the tears falling freely from his eyes. he looks so hurt. i can’t look at him anymore. i stare down at the floor instead.

“they turned you into a monster and you let them. you’re not five - you’re not my five.”

and with that, i leave, shutting the door behind me and letting myself sob, wanting so desperately to go back in there and pretend like we were kids again.

but we aren’t kids anymore.

he made that choice, and i can never go back to him.

[jasminehoneytea]

taxi cab ~ b.h

in which a car ride after a long day leeds to hushed voices and contemplation

mood playlist:

leave the city by twenty one pilots

“we could have died today.” ben whispers.

“you’re not used to it by now?” i whisper back.

we‘re sitting in the back of a taxi. it’s supposed to take me back to my apartment, then ben to the hargreeve’s manor.

we‘re tired. exhausted, really. bruises litter ben’s ripped uniform that somehow always got torn in a fight and was mended as easily as it was ripped. he had shoved his mask in his pocket and done his best to clean the blood off his face. i have a few scratches here and there, but ben‘s injured worse. to be fair, i was the one being held hostage, not fighting back.

i had just happened to be there, at the museum that had just happened to have been robbed at that time. of course someone called the umbrella academy, they always do.

ben didn’t see me at first. i was hiding behind a table with a few others, a gun pointed at our heads. i was scared, terrified of course, but i knew that ben and his siblings would help us.

when he figured out i was there, he froze. he had been trying to get hostages out of the building while five and allison were distracting the thieves. ben had grabbed my arm, not even looking at me as he tried to lift me up. when i whispered his name, he stopped. it was like he couldn’t move.

then someone shot at him.

he was okay. thank god he was okay. everyone made it out alright, and the umbrella academy saved the day once more.

and here we are, sitting in a back of a taxi, my head resting on ben’s chest as he holds me tightly.

“h-how much did you see?” ben asks.

“not a lot.”

“did you see me...” he trails off. i know what he means. i shake my head. he lets out a small sigh of relief and pulls me closer, hand stroking my hair gently.

“i can’t believe you were there.” he mumbles. “i never wanted you to be brought into that part of my life.”

i reach up to take the hand that was holding tightly onto my shoulder. “i’m okay. we’re okay.” i whisper. i can feel his heart rate, unnaturally fast. but ben wasn’t natural in the first place.

“i didn’t want you to see it...what i have to do...” i feel his hand leave my hair to wrap around my waist. he presses his lips to the top of my head.

“i know.” i murmur.

we’re quiet for a bit, the two of us staring out the taxi window, watching the other cars pass us by.

i think back to the first time i faced the reality of ben’s life. i had to clean up his wounds. he didn’t want to go home after a late night mission and didn’t know where else to go. he knew he’d get in trouble. he didn’t care. it was one in the morning, he kissed me for the first time on my bed before leaving through the window, just as quickly as he had come in.

ben doesn’t like to talk about it, what he does during those missions. he doesn’t want me to know what kind of person he has to be. but i pieced it together on my own.

and we’re still in the back of this never ending taxi ride.

“are you hurt?” i ask. i’ve already asked him that a million times tonight, i know i have. he replies anyway.

“not bad.” he’s lying. i saw the bullet hit his leg. “grace will fix me up.” he adds, like he’s able to read my mind.

i nod and focus on the way the skyscrapers look at night. he kisses the top of my head again. i figured out what it meant a while ago: i’m here.

we’re quiet again until we hear the sirens. ben tenses up. i don’t know what else to do besides place a feathery kiss on his jaw and rest my head in the crook of his neck.

“how much did you see?” his voice cracks slightly.

“i didn’t-“

“please.” he’s crying.

i hesitate, trying to think of what to say. bloody images flash across my mind. “not all of it. i...i looked away before you...” i couldn’t bring myself to say it. neither could he.

he doesn’t say anything, just drops his head slightly to hide in my hair. he’s shaking.

the car stops outside my apartment. i take a deep breath and sit up, but ben keeps his grip around me. i murmur his name and he shakes his head. “come back with me.”

“we’ll get caught.”

“not until the morning. i’ll get in trouble, you won’t.” i pause, trying to figure out what to say. “please. i...i can’t be alone tonight.”

i agree, finally, returning back to the comforting position of laying with ben. having his arms around me is the only thing that kept me from breaking down right now. the taxi starts up again, taking us to our destination in dreaded silence.

“we’re gonna get out of here.” ben says. “when you graduate. we’ll both get into that college in colorado, like we planned.

“what happens if we don’t?” my voice is barely audible at this point.

“we’ll figure something out. we always do.” i don’t say anything for a bit until he suddenly asks, “do you still...want to be with me...after all this?”

“always.”

he presses his lips to my head. he’s here.

he’s here. for now.

[jasminehoneytea]

books ~ b.h

furthermore titled: three times ben hargreeves met a bookshop clerk and the one time it was a date

in which ben, an aspiring librarian, falls for the cute bookshop worker

mood playlist:

come out and play - billie eilish

the first time i met ben hargreeves, it was the first week of our second year at university.

he had come into the store, clad in a backpack and tan beanie, and beelined for the front desk.

“hi. i have a class in fifteen minutes, and i still don’t have one of the books on the syllabus. please help me.”

i couldn’t help but laugh at his bewildered expression and breathless tone. he was cute. i knew that shouldn’t have been my first thought, but i couldn’t help it. i cleared my throat and fiddled with my sleeve. “there’s an actual campus bookstore a couple blocks away. have you tried there?”

he nodded. “i’ve tried four different stores.”

“that’s strange. what course is it for?”

“library sciences.”

i smiled. “a wannabe librarian? that’s cool, there’s not too many of those here.” he nodded, biting a nail anxiously. i felt bad for him, he looked like he was about to cry. “we have course books this way.” i gestured to the back of the store. the bookshop wasn’t really meant for selling college textbooks, but we had a couple used ones that were donated to us. i guided the nervous boy through the stacks and shelves and leaned against the wall, watching him frantically flip through the library science books.

“this is it!” he said, pulling out an old, loosely bound brown book. i clasped my hands together happily. “oh my god! thank you so much!” he pulled me into a hug. i was shocked at first, but he was so happy and excited that i couldn’t help but hug him back.

“how much?”

“course books are expensive, it’s on the house.” i replied. i wasn’t really authorized to give out free books, but my boss wasn’t around to see it.

“a-are you sure?” he asked, hesitant.

i nodded. “you’re gonna be late for your class. better run.”

the mystery boy thanked me again and i watched him leave the store, giggling as he jogged down the bustling streets.

—

the second time i met ben hargreeves, i thought i had broken his nose.

i was just closing up the shop, freezing my ass off in the november wind. once i had finally managed to get that damn key out of the lock, i turned around and immediately ran into someone. he yelped and stepped back, his hand immediately reaching up to clutch his nose.

“oh my god! are you okay? shit, is your nose broken? i can’t afford to pay your medical bills - that’s not the problem to be focusing on - i’m so sorry - are you alright?” i rambled on nervously. i was freaking out.

the boy groaned quietly before removing his hand from his noise. he looked down and noticed the lack of blood and we both let out a sigh of relief. i apologized again and reached down to pick up the books he had dropped. i recognized the old leatherback one resting at my feet.

“hey, you’re the wannabe librarian kid.” i stood and handed him the book.

“you’re the cute bookshop worker.”

“cute?”

“sorry.” his hand went up to his hair, brushing through the part that wasn’t covered by his beanie. he was wearing a different beanie this time. it was black and looked like someone had knit it themselves. it matched with his jacket, one of those faux leather ones with the cotton sleeves and hood. it gave the look like ‘i’m not actually a rebel i just like to stay warm and i look good in black.”

he did look good in black.

i liked the way the snowflakes landed in his hair. the dark-to-light contrast was stunning on him.

“don’t be.” i replied. he smiled down at me and that was when i noticed the significant height difference.

“i’m ben.” he said after a moment. i introduced myself and he made a quiet comment about how he had always liked that name. i felt my cheeks go red and i hoped that he would think it was because of this wind.

he did.

what a fool.

“you look cold.” he said, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around my neck.

i pulled it up to my nose to hide my smile. “thanks. sorry for breaking your nose.”

ben laughed. “don’t be. it’s not every day you run headfirst into the cute bookshop worker.”

“cute.” i murmured, the scarf muddling my voice.

“cute.” he repeated. his hands went into the pockets of his jeans.

i made a note about how frequently he used his hands when he was nervous. “i gotta get going.” ben said. i couldn’t tell if it was just me but he sounded reluctant to say it. “it’s game night with friends tonight.”

game night, how adorable.

“wait, i need to give you your scarf back.” i blurted out before he turned away.

ben tugged on the ends of the scarf to tighten it slightly. he reached to up to brush a snowflake from my cheek, chuckling slightly at how my breath hitched the second his glove touched my face. “peppermint mochas at the coffee house down the street. tomorrow at seven. you can give it back then.”

“it’s a date.” i smiled.

he repeated it back and walked away. i could have sworn he skipped down the sidewalk just a little.

who knew that nervous boy could have been so bold?

—

the third time i met ben hargreeves, it was a date.

i had no idea what to wear, so i threw on a sweater that matched his maroon scarf. it was freezing out, a jacket and gloves weren’t nearly enough.

i met him outside the coffee house. he was holding two grande peppermint mochas. “we’re not going in?” i asked after an exchange of hellos.

ben shook his head. “i was thinking we could go on a walk.”

“it’s freezing.”

“i’ll keep you warm.”

i blushed. why was i always blushing around him? “that’s cute.” i murmured. ben smiled and slid his arm around my waist, tugging me a little closer. he still seemed a little hesitant, like he was nervous that i would pull away. i leaned into him and he seemed to relax a little.

we walked down the street and across a bridge to the park, talking about our days and little anecdotes. ben was really passionate about being a librarian. i didn’t know how hard it was to actually be one. he loved books just as much as i did. he was perfect.

“my scarf looks good on you.” ben says.

“yeah?”

he reached down to tuck my hair behind my ear. i catch his wrist and intertwine our fingers. he smiles. i decide that his smile is my favorite thing about him.

i stop in front of him, reaching up to brush his cheek. “your hands are freezing” ben points out.

“i know.” i take off his beanie and place it in my back pocket. then i stuff my hands in his jacket pockets, grabbing onto his warm hands. “you’re warm.”

ben tries to fix his hair but i grip his hands tightly. “i like the way the snowflakes look in your hair.”

“that’s cute.”

i whisper ‘cute’ back and stand on the toes of my boots to kiss a snowflake off the tip of his nose. before i lean back, ben kisses me.

it’s a ghost of a kiss. i watch his eyelashes flutter, snowflakes on the tips of them. i kiss him back this time and smile against his lips.

“i could get used to this.” ben whispers, pulling me to his chest.

[jasminehoneytea]

cold hands - b.h

it was a cold autumn night. the wind was brisk, the leaves were gently falling, the air was cool and inviting. everynow and then, the lightest snowflake would fall and land among our eyelashes.

and ben’s hands were freezing.

when i told him this, he just smiled at the leaf covered sidewalk and told me, “yours are colder.” and i took it as an excuse to squeeze his hand and step closer to him.

he lent me his sweater that night. it was a dark forrest green and it smelled like his cologne and autumn. he told me to stay warm as he brushed my hair behind my cheek, leaving an airy kiss where his hand had been.

that was the last time i saw him. alive, that is.

because the next day when i found him on bloodsoaked leaves, his hands were even colder.

[jasminehoneytea]

pumpkin ~ p.p

in which autumn dates consist of baked bread, lattes, and the great british baking show.

“you’ve never had pumpkin bread before?” i gasped, covering my mouth dramatically.

peter blushed and rolled his eyes playfully. “you’re overreacting.”

“i most certainly am not, parker!” i smacked his arm lightly and giggled as he faked being hurt. “it’s so good, you have to try it. i have the best recipe too, i’ll give it to you!”

“or we could make it together.” he suggested, running his hand through his hair. my cheeks heated up and i looked away. “um...are you doing anything after school? today, i mean?” peter asked hesitantly.

i looked back at him, trying to avoid staring at his lips and instead finding myself drowning in his mocha eyes. “n-nope. nothing.”

“come over, then. we can make it together, and maybe do some studying for that chemistry test we have on friday.”

i sighed. “that’s a mood killer. chemistry studying? come on, parker. don’t tell me you ask girls out with that line.”

his face turned bright red and i laughed. “i’m kidding. i’ll be there.” i bit my lip to mask my grin.

-

i twirled a lock of hair around my finger nervously after knocking once on peter’s door. a series of anxious thoughts fluttered around my head. was my knock too obnoxious? do i look okay? is this a date? does he like me? does he know i like him? was this a mistake?

before i could turn around and flee the scene, peter opened the door. he had changed out of his midtown high sweatshirt, instead wearing a cinnamon colored cable knit sweater. his hair was curlier, less gelled up than it was at school that morning. his smile lit up his whole face, and i knew i was staring but i couldn’t help myself. “hey.” i said, clearing my throat slightly.

“are you ready to bake the best pumpkin bread you’ve ever had?” he asked teasingly.

i snapped myself out of it and resorted back to my sarcasticly nervous antics. “who says it’s gonna be the best? you wouldn’t know, you’ve never even tried it before.”

“i don’t know, i’m a pretty good baker! probably better than you.” he smirked. god, how badly i wanted to kiss that smirk off his face.

i rolled my eyes and stepped inside his apartment. i immediately felt warm and comfy. he had a scented candle in the corner of the kitchen, giving the air a pumpkin and nutmeg smell. he even had his tv playing a video of a fireplace. “it’s so nice in here!” i said, taking my coat off.

“that’s all aunt may, she’s really good at the whole decor stuff. i helped pick out some fall-themed stuff, though!” he paused and glanced over at my coat. “oh, i can take that.” he helped me take it off and hung it on the coat rack.

“what a gentlemen.” i teased.

“hey, this is just so that you won’t completely hate me when i embarrass you at how amazing i am at baking.”

“you’re such a dork.”

“i made lattes!” he exclaimed, obviously ignoring my snarky retort.

i secretly loved his happy-go-lucky personality, but i could never tell him that. i watched him head over to the kitchen and pick up a steaming maroon mug with a mountain of whipped cream on top. “they’re pumpkin spice!”

i grinned. “you really went for the full autumn aesthetic, didn’t you?” i picked up a mug and clinked against peter’s.

his face turned red and he hid it behind his mug. “well, i know how much you love fall, so yeah, i did.” he paused and looked at my mug. “there’s whipped cream on the counter if you want some.”

i mumbled a ‘thank you’ and sprayed a bit of whipped cream over my latte. before i could lift it to my lips, i caught peter’s gaze.

“wh-wha-how?”

“what, parker? spit it out.”

“i’m sorry, that’s not nearly enough whipped cream. here, let me.” peter took the bottle from my hand and brushing his fingertips against mine. out of reflex, i pulled my hand away and quickly shoved it in the pocket of my sweater. i knew he noticed, but he chose not to say anything. peter began to pour so much whipped cream that it was overflowing, spilling down the yellow mug.

“peter! oh my god you’re insane!”

he laughed and put the bottle in the fridge. “you’re missing the best part!” he pulled out a grater and a bag. “nutmeg!” i watched, mouth open in awe, as peter grated an actual nutmeg over my latte.

i never knew peter could be so adorable. i mean, i had been chemistry lab partners with him all semester, but i always asssumed he was just a nerd, obsessed with his computer and all that sciency stuff he never shut up about. who knew he liked to bake and would put spices like nutmeg on his coffee? “okay, much better.” peter said, swiping his finger across the whipped cream and tapping my nose.

i yelped in protest but he just laughed, turning to the cabinet and pulling out all the ingredients we needed for our bread. “you’re an asshole, parker.” i told him, wiping my nose off and taking a sip of my latte. it was incredible, but he’d never get to know that. i couldn’t inflate his ego even more.

“really? because i just made you the best pumpkin spice latte you’ve ever had. starbucks has nothing on me.” peter replied.

“oh, sorry, i stand corrected.” i smirked and leaned against the counter. “you’re an arrogant asshole. is that better?”

he hit my arm playfully and shook his head. “you’re lucky i don’t banish you outside to the cold. now are we baking or not?” i dramatically sighed in response and handed him the recipe.

an hour later, we had a perfect pumpkin loaf in the oven, garnished with little cranberries. “i was thinking we could watch the great british bake off. i know how much you love that show.” peter suggested.

jesus christ he was was perfect

i tried to fight the dryness of my throat as i spoke. “yeah sure, which season are you on?”

“i’m all caught up! there’s a new episode today!”

“i...didn’t know you watched the show.” i said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, deathly afraid of sitting too close and getting mortifyingly rejected.

peter gave me a lopsided grin. “well you wouldn’t shut up about it, so i figured i’d give it a try.”

i pursed my lips and fiddled with my fingers. “s-sorry. i tend talk too much when it comes to things i like.”

“everyone does that. and besides,” he paused, moving closer to me. “i think it’s cute.” he added, voice barely a whisper.

i smiled, not daring to look at him out of fear of spontaneously combusting if i met his gaze. he moved an inch closer and i followed suit. his arm was up against the top of the couch. i could feel it drop down and rest on my shoulder. “is this okay?” he asked quietly.

i nodded and rested my head on his shoulder. he pressed the play button on the remote and the room was filled with sounds of our blind commentary, laughter, and british accents.

[jasminehoneytea]

charcoal - tua

“that’s not your sweater.” five hargreeves observes aloud, narrow eyes ficking around my figure. he brings his mug to his lips and sips his coffee analytically. he blocks the doorway, leaning up against it in his typical cocky manner.

i avoided his gaze and looked down at the charcoal sweater that was way too big on me, covering my shorts and falling to the tips of my thighs. i pushed past him to enter the kitchen. “yeah, well, i didn’t realize it was so cold here.”

“you’ve been around here for the past twenty years. it’s always cold here.” he turned around to watch me hurry around the kitchen, flinging open different cabinet doors.

i sighed and rolled my eyes. “i don’t really pay attention that much, five, sorry. and besides, it’s not like you were gone for sixteen of those years.” i paused, searching through the contents of a shelf. “where’s my tea?”

“low blow. and it’s in the third cabinet to the right. i moved it over to make room.”

“why would you do that? it’s always in this cabinet on this shelf.” i shut the door rather loudly to get my point across before finally spotting the box of tea satchets that i always kept at the hargreeves’ house.

five snickered. “you’re just proving my point about how you do pay attention.” i turned around sharply and opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, saying my name quietly. “who’s sweater is it?”

he knew who’s it was.

“five-”

“you can’t just take it.” he interjected, stepping closer to me and putting his coffee down on the counter, causing echoey ringing throughout the room. i glanced at him, then back at the mug, then back at him again, swallowing thickly. “it isn’t yours.”

i felt my throat close up in that weird way when you’re about to cry. i closed my eyes to hide how glossy they were turning and leaned against the refrigerator, feeling the cool of the metal against my head. i couldn’t deal with this right now.

five grabbed my wrist. “take it off.”

my eyes snapped open and i ripped my hand away. “i miss him, okay?”

five was quiet.

“you weren’t here for it. you didn’t see it. look, i know he’s your brother. but he was my best friend.” i couldn’t even try to stop the tears at this point. five’s brows were furrowed but his eyes had softened.

“you l-“

“don’t say it.” i whispered. “don’t. i...i can’t hear it. because i never got to say it to him.”

five stood there for a few moments, chewing on his lip like he always did. “have you talked to klaus? maybe he could...y’know...”

“klaus isn’t sober enough for it. i haven’t even bothered.” i wiped my eyes with the sleeve that fell past my fingertips. the scent of cologne flooded my mind and i shut my eyes even tighter. i loved that cologne. he knew it, too. “i just really miss him.”

a somber sense of silence filled the air. i kept my eyes shut. i always liked it when my eyes were closed. all i could see was black, black, black.

ben always liked the colour black.

[jasminehoneytea]

superhero cliché ~ p.p

when your partner’s body makes a THUD noise, it’s never good.

the sound of peter’s body hitting the metal walls of the elavator shaft was enough to send shivers through my spine as i listened to it echo around us. green goblin cackled as peter laid there, body limp and groaning slightly. i screamed out his name and ducked as the goblin swung at me. water continued to pour out of the open pipes, flooding faster. if we didn’t get out of that elevator shaft soon, we’d all drown. i needed a way to finish this now, with or without peter. one of his spare web shooters had fallen to the ground nearby. the goblin followed my eyes and reached for it. i kicked him in the groin, hard enough to get him to stumble back as i grabbed the mechanism beside me. i shot a web as silently cheered as it hit his throat. the goblin scrambled around, making choking noises as as he tried to pull the sticky substance off of him. it bought me a few seconds of time.

i swung webs around and around the goblin until i was out of webs; he was covered in a cocoon of white string. he struggled, squirming and howling repeatedly. some of the webs were already snapping and the water was already up to my calves. i was running out of time. i rushed over to peter, who was laying terrifyingly still on his back against the concrete. the water level was rising faster and faster. i patted peter’s face gently, the eyes on his suit glitching and flickering.

“come on peter, please, wake up”

i sighed in relief as he groaned softly and began to sit up. his arm clutched his side tightly as i took his other hand and helped him stand. “peter, i did the best i could to keep him down. he’s all tied up but he won’t be for long. we gotta get outta here.” my voice was uneven and rapid but peter seemed to have gotten the gist. his suit’s large mechanical eyes twitched in response. i wrapped his free arm around my shoulder and aimed his hand at the exit. i pressed down on his hand, illiciting a web to attach itself to the elevator door frame, and jumped. we flew through the air, surprisingly managing to tumble through the open doorway and onto the old carpeting of a hallway. peter whimpered in pain, letting out a sharp gasp when i pulled him up again, dragging him out of the hotel.

we stumbled outside, falling to the concrete ground. after finally catching my breath, i looked up and saw that we were surrounded by police officers and firefighters. i cursed quietly as one approached us. “what the hell do you two kids think you’re doing?” she shouted. “this place is flooding, it could collapse any minute. get the hell out of here!”

“the green goblin,” i panted, “he’s in there, all tied up. he could drown...or escape-“

“alright, honey. we’re on it.” she interrupted, turning around and speaking into the radio system attached to her shoulder. she turned back to look down at peter and i, a soaking pile of elastic and bruises on the pavement. “now get out of here before people see you without your mask.”

i touched my temple, frowning at the fact that i was missing half of my mask. it must have broken off during the fight. i chose to ignore the fact that the green goblin could have seen what i looked like. frustrated, i ripped off the other half of the mask and tossed it behind me. i rolled over to face peter. “we gotta go, pete.” i murmured. he sat up and nodded, wrapping his arm tightly around me as he swung us onto a nearby rooftop.

i sighed with relief, leaning against the edge of the roof. i looked over at peter, who was still panting hard. he was mumbling to himself.

“are you okay, pete?”

“we could have died in there, you could have died. i couldn’t even help you-i, i gotta get this mask off- i can’t breathe, i...” he struggled with the mask, trying to rip it off his face but only getting halfway.

i crawled over to him and brought my hands to the sides of his face. i could see tears rolling down his cheeks. “hey, hey. breathe.” i murmured. he started to control his shaky inhales and exhales as i slid the mask off his face. “better?” i asked.

peter nodded. “t-thanks.” i looked him up and down, observing every aspect of his face. he did the same to me.

“i’ve never seen you without your mask before.” we said at the same time. we both chuckled softly. he took my hand in his, gingerly brushing his thumb across my bruised and bloody knuckles. he gently brought it to his lips and pressed feathery kisses to each one. it hurt. a lot. but somehow, he made it better.

“it’s funny,” peter said after a moment had passed. “that we’ve been partners for all this time, but we had never even seen one another behind the masks.”

i paused, pulling away slightly. “partners? is...is that all you think of us?”

“well...that’s what we’ve always said, so i just assumed-“

i pressed my finger to his lips. “peter.” he winced at the lack of nicknames or a playful tone. “we go through this whole ‘we could have died, holy shit’ thing every weekend. it always ends the same way.”

“you mean like how one of us has to clean up the other’s wounds and there’s a weird amount of romantic tension and we end up almost kissing but never do?” peter blurts out.

“right. we’re one big superhero cliché.”

he shrugged, eyes glistening slightly. “i like clichés.”

i laughed quietly. “does that mean you want to do it all over again?”

“and over, and over, and over, and over-“

i cut him off, pressing my lips to his. “you just kissed me.” he whispered as soon as i pulled away.

“i did.” we sat there for a minute, staring at each other, admiring one another.

“i really, really want to do that again.” peter said, lifting his hand to my cheek.

i smiled.

“then do it, partner.”