#CUSTOM LAX SHOOTING SHIRTS

[sword-and-shield-writings]

Hey! Good luck with your super cute blog!!!! ABout the request: How about a SFW fluffy OneShot for Raihan who has a crush a t the cute female reader who works at the local Pokemarkt, but she is very very shy; How would he go about that?

Aaa thank you boo!! And this is the most adorable thing ever SJDKFSDHJG I love this so much <3 <3 <3 Hope you enjoy~

Art of The Hunt

Fandom: Pokemon Sword + Shield Rating: SFW Style: Oneshot Details: Raihan having a crush on a uber shy Fem!Reader who works at the local Pokemart.

His large hands held onto the small basket filled with pokemon care materials, it was so small compared to him it was almost laughable. Without thinking twice his hands reached instinctively for the top shelf for a box of the new Duraludon Polish for his ace, half-lidded teal eyes looking around the Pokemart lazily - he had been there so many times he didn’t even need to look for what he was grabbing, for he had something else on his mind. Or rather, someone. The tall bachelor of Galar, the Dragon Tamer of this vast region found himself gravitating toward a quiet soul that was hiding behind the protection of the Pokemart till, her eyes shifting from the keypad and the checkout display. Arceus she looks adorable today... Raihan mused to himself as he stood there on the other side of the Pokemart. The only time he ever thanked Arceus for his tall height was when he realized he could subtly look over the shelves of the Pokemart on his toes to see the young lady crunching numbers and flustering over greeting and waving goodbye to the customers as per her contract with her boss. 

She was like a little Deerling, so beautiful, adorable and will shy away from even the slightest and insignificant thing like eye contact or a stray compliment. A small smile played on the Gym Leader’s lips as he moved closer to the counter, lining up behind the small number of people lining up there. It was late in the evening, hardly anyone was in the Wyndon Pokemart and yet even when he desperately needed something from there he would wait until the wee hours of the night to catch a glimpse of the shy young lady. He could catch his heartbeat quicken when he opened his cabinet and realized he had run out of berry ingredients for his curry and would wait for hours until the hour hand on the clock hit 8 so he could get on his Flygon and get what he needed and then some. Right before it was his turn, he glanced down at a pack of bubblegum - he didn’t normally chew gum but every time he managed to snag an encounter with the elusive beauty she always smelled as if she was chewing this brand of bubblegum all the time. 

“H-Hello sir! Ho -” the young lady chimed softly before she froze and a blush crossed over from cheek to cheek, head tilting up to see the dragon type gym leader. Raihan smiled lazily as he gave her a playful yet lax salute. Her eyes widened as she continued, Raihan chuckling to himself as she did, “... H-how are you today...? Had a p-p-pleasant shopping... experience...?” She meekly asked, feeling her cheeks redden as she reached out for the first of many things Raihan “needed” to buy.

“Hey there.” Raihan hummed in his deep baritone voice, a small laugh hiding behind his words as he looked at her red cheeks - they might as well be little Cherubi, “And yes, a very nice experience. I love shopping here at night, there's hardly anyone around.” His eyes glanced over at the lady’s fingers, he wanted to hold onto them and see if they were really as soft as they looked. She nodded her head shakily and Raihan could practically hear her shaky breathing. 

“T-That’s good to hear s-sir.” She stammered - she only reason why she took this position was that she didn’t want to perform manual labour to stock the shelves and she didn’t want to wander about the mart and offer her services. Serving at the till would mean the least amount of contact and talking and social interaction besides the occasional small talk she had to make to upkeep a good impression for the Pokemart. 

“You can call me Raihan if you want.” He smiled softly, leaning down, “Everyone does, it’s no biggie. I shop here all the time, you can call me by a first name basis.” He smiled at her as she nervously looked up and he caught a glimpse of how beautiful her eyes were. They would be even more beautiful under the moonlight, on a walk with him after a nice dinner date.

“O-Oh, okay then... Raihan...” She murmured, her cheeks still red as she started to quickly check out his products. He shoved his hands in his pockets lazily as he watched her check them out, one by one, how she nervously pursed her lips as she checked the price stage with the check-out display, how she nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Everything about her drew him in and yet he was so far away from actually getting to know her. However, he was determined to try and make a start on it that evening. “T-That’ll be $126.50!” She chirped as she put them all in a large plastic bag.

Rahan nodded his head, taking out his credit card and shuffling through his pants pockets for a pen - he always had one on him just in case a fan wanted a signature on their shirt or Pokeball. As the flustered lady swiped the card on the machine and shakily gave it back to him, she turned her body around to wait for the receipt, trying to stay calm. Swiftly, Raihan shuffled his hand through the bag for the packed of bubblegum and started scribbling on it.

“He-Here you go si- I mean, Raihan!” The lady managed out as she tore the receipt form the little printer and turned around to find him... gone. A small exhale left her lips as she leaned against the wall behind her, fanning herself. “O-oh jeez...” She muttered, patting her cheeks to cool them off. Her eyes scanned her work station, moving to clean it like she did after every other customer to maintain the cleaning policy they had when she caught sight of something - a stick of bubblegum from her favourite brand. She looked around, seeing if Raihan was anywhere around but to no avail. Shoot, did I forget to put this in?? Oh, my boss is gonna kill me! She fretted as she picked it up... and saw something on it. It was small and in dark blue writing. She brought it close to her face to read it and her eyes widened in surprise and her blush darkened further (if that was even possible).

“Here’s my number if you’re interested, no pressure :) Enjoy the gum <3 - Raihan″

As the young lady started to freak out behind the till, the tall man chuckled watching her from afar, sitting on top of his Flygon. His pokemon looked up at him expectantly before he placed his large hand over its head, “Alright, alright, let’s go home.” He murmured before his pokemon took off into the night silently, sporting him away from Wyndon to Hammerlocke. He was a patient man, he had to be to handle dragon types, and it was certainly needed in the art of the hunt. If he didn’t get her that time, he’ll try again. Eventually, he’ll be able to coax that little Deerling out from the shrubs. Eventually.

[ragingbookdragon]

This City’s Gonna Break My Heart

A/N: I don't care what anyone says. My best fics are song fics. Especially this Dick one. Enjoy! -Thorne <3

I’ve been seeing lonely people in crowded rooms Covering their old heartbreaks with new tattoos It’s all about smoke screens and cigarettes Looking through low lights and silhouettes But all I see is lonely people in crowded rooms

           There had only been two times in Dick’s life that he’d ever been completely alone. The night his parents were murdered, and now, as he sat in the dingy bar nursing a worn and weeping heart. He wanted to go home and be out on patrol, but he knew at some point he had been bound for this. To leave Gotham and leave the manor. Leaving Robin. Baby blues scanned the customers in the bar, taking in their dispositions. He could tell many of them were in the same boat. Perhaps not fighting the same broken heart he was; his heart was torn by family and trust where theirs was torn by love. His eyes landed on a couple a few feet away from him, and he listened as they flirted back and forth; something in their eyes made him wonder if their flirtation was a rouse to cover something cracked underneath the surface they had. He shifted his gaze back to his drink, staring into its contents. He stared back at himself, the loneliness creeping down his spine as he lowered his head, eyes shutting as if he could will it away.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           His body cried as he slid through his window, barely having the strength to shut it behind him as he collapsed onto the floor, hands moving to hold his left side. He couldn’t feel anything warm and wet, but pain shot through his nerves as he pressed on it telling him he’d cracked a few ribs. He chuckled weakly at it, thankful that what could be worse wasn’t.

When Dick finally managed to pick himself off the floor, he moved to his bedroom, shucking off his suit, the pieces dropping along the hallway and in his bedroom as he made his way to the bed. He eased down onto it, careful to avoid putting any pressure on his side as he sprawled onto the sheets. He turned his head, gazing out of the window. It had a couple months since he’d started up in Blüdhaven, donning Nightwing. It hadn’t been easy for him to be alone like this. He’d always been with someone, either with Bruce or with the Titans, but never alone. It made his chest burn, and he felt the familiar lump swell in his throat as his vision began to blur. Sometimes Blüdhaven made him feel like he was back in Gotham, the feelings of belonging beginning to seep into him, but other times, he still felt like he’d barely made a dent in his separation. Dick raised a hand, palm rubbing roughly into his chest as if he could wear away the deeply set cracks in his heart; however, he realized that the harder he rubbed, the more his vision blurred, and eventually he felt warmth flowing down his cheeks. His hand stopped, going limp against his chest as he felt his heart breaking.

I remember mornings when my head didn’t hurt And I remember nights when art didn’t feel like work She wakes up at noon and she’s out ‘til three She leaves her perfume all over me But I remember mornings when my head didn’t hurt

           He could feel the sun shining along his face and he grimaced, twisting in the sheets to burrow his face into his pillow. The pounding in his head seemed to worsen as sleep began to escape him, and Dick groaned lowly, rubbing his face into the fabric. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going back to sleep, he sighed, pushing himself up onto his arms. A sharp stab spread across the back of his neck, up to his head and he winced as the invisible band started to tighten around his skull.

Fighting it back, he left his bed, trudging into his living room. He looked outside the window, seeing the sun peeking from between the buildings across the street. He shifted, glancing at the clock, realizing that he’d only been home a couple hours. He sunk down onto the couch, eyes lazily staring up at the ceiling. Dick kicked his legs out but stopped when he felt something touch his foot. He sat up, looking down to see the top of his suit; he bent down, picking it up before he slouched back into the cushions. The tear in the arm was still there, fingers slipping in between the cloth. He let out a sigh, looking for a sewing kit. He knew he had one; Alfred had sent it to him in one of the care packages.

When he found it, he threaded the needle, fumbling the metal through the suit top. He didn’t have the energy to make it perfect, and as he pulled it away and examined it, he realized that fixing and designing his suit and gadgets wasn’t passionate to him anymore; it felt like work more than anything, and he dropped his head onto the back of the couch, eyes finding the ceiling once more as his grip went lax.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           He stood along the ledge of a building, observing the city before him. The months had gotten easier as they’d gone by, the thoughts changing from ‘this isn’t home’ to ‘this is starting to feel like home’. Dick drug his eyes from the city for a moment to look up at the night sky. Millions of stars stared back at him, and for a second he wondered if this life he lived now was just a chasing of the stars. A complicated race between him and an uncatchable target; a life he lived and the life he wanted, one where there wasn’t a divide between him and his father. He’d met the new boy his father had taken in. Jason, his name was. Good kid, he thought, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was his replacement. Dick shook his head, and a siren sounded in the distance and he dropped his eyes from the sky to the rooftops, letting out a sigh as he began hopping ledges towards it.

She got a hold on me She got me wrapped around her finger She got a hold on me She got me wrapped around her finger, oh yeah

           Dick shut the front door behind him, shucking off his jacket before hanging it on his coat rack, feet carrying him to the couch. He dropped onto it, groaning in relief as he felt his body begin to relax. It’s good to be home, he thought, and the second he did, his breathing stuttered. He didn’t know when it had changed, but it certainly had. The words flowed out of his mouth in conversations now, when people asked where home was. Gotham no longer crossed his lips, instead, Blüdhaven rolled off his tongue. Dick took a breath, feeling the air begin to ease back in and out of his lungs. Blüdhaven no longer felt like a stranger to him; it felt…like home.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple of months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           He stepped into his room, eyes widening in surprise at his brothers sitting huddled on his bed; the words came out before he could stop them. “What are you three doing in my bedroom?” Their heads swiveled in his direction and Damian held up a photo.

           “Where was this taken Richard?” Dick’s eyebrows furrowed and he dropped his laundry basket, crossing the room to pluck the photo from his fingers. He glanced at it, seeing him, Roy, and Wally, sandwiched together on a couch; he smiled, eyes crinkling and quipped,

           “Oh, that’s from when I was in Blüdhaven a few years ago.”

           “How come you don’t live over there anymore Dickhead?” He rolled his eyes at Jason’s insult, placing the photo back before climbing behind them, looking into the box.

           “Well, can’t leave Bruce alone to handle the circus.” He nudged his brothers. “Someone’s gotta keep you guys in check.” Tim stared at him, blinking unamused.

           “Dick. You’re the only one of us that actually gets in trouble.” Damian grunted, tipping his head at Jason.

           “Todd does too, but that is a fair point.”

           “Hey, I’m not that bad!”

           “Jason, you shoot people.”

           “Well not that much anymore!”

           “You’ve made up for it in brutal beatings.”

           “Wow Two-Bit. It’s almost as if getting beaten to death by a crowbar makes me want to make others feel pain.”

           “This is why Father doesn’t trust you.”

           “Say it to my face you little shi-” The sound of a fist smacking someone’s cheek cut Jason off, and Dick watched Damian fly into him. As if they were dominoes, Jason landed against Tim, crushing him into the bed; he yelped, trying to scramble out from the two fighting boys.

           “HEY! LEAVE ME OUT OF THIS! I DIDN’T DO JACK!” The two didn’t pay any mind to his cries and he yelled for his eldest brother. “DICK DO SOMETHING! I’M BEGGING YOU!” Dick chuckled, leaning over to wrap an arm around Damian and tug him away. As he closed in on him, Damian’s arm came back, and his elbow went into Dick’s nose; he let out a curse, reaching up to hold his face. His brothers stilled as they watched crimson liquid leak from between Dick’s fingers. Dick lowered his hands to stare at them, and his eyes widened momentarily, then hardened and he shifted his gaze to his brothers; he pointed at them and warned,

           “Start running. I’m giving you ten seconds to get a head start.” It was all the warning they needed, scrambling across the comforter to the door, each diving out after the other. Dick clambered out of the bed, hand reaching for a shirt laying haphazardly on the ground. He held it against his nose and took a step, but stopped and reached down, plucking the picture from the box; he grinned at it, propping it up on his nightstand next to the other pictures of his family. He moved to the door, stepped out and yelled, “READY OR NOT! HERE I COME!” Their screeches could be heard from down the halls and a wicked smirk crossed his lips as he began hunting.

This city’s gonna break my heart, hey She’s always gonna break your heart.

[cynoirsure]

sweetener | jjk

pairing — jungkook x reader

word count — 12.4k

genre — bakery!au, fluff

summary — running your up and coming bakery with an attractive boy named Jeon Jungkook turns out to be harder than anything you learned in pastry school.

warnings/tags — none!!

a/n — im telling you now, i’ve been thinking about this fic since september. i had this as a bulletpointed idea but after seeing bts live i’ve been uhh looking like the kermit furiously typing gif. i have not written a fic in a HOT second so this might be a lil mediocre!! also publishing a fic for the first time!! big scary!!

“Add 70 g of egg whites into a bowl, when the egg whites become frothy, add half the sugar,” You mutter to yourself, before pausing. “...and multiply the recipe by 40.” Ever since your best friend left your co-owned bakery for grad school, you’ve been feeling spent by the amount of work being done at your bakery by yourself. You and your friend had never felt the need to hire anyone else since you two were pretty productive, but since you were alone, you took on a lot of responsibilities at the bakery now, including but not limited to: finally nailing the macaron recipe, actually confronting your fear of making croissants, and even sucking it up and actually making the damn tart crusts.

You sighed, zoning back into the macaron shell recipe that your friend had written down, and you realized you really couldn’t do this alone. The bakery could only be open for so long with only one person in the back of the house and also working the cash register. You stopped the stand mixer, walking into the office and typing a simple sign that did the job: Now Hiring Bakers!

The next few days were filled with numerous hopefuls, including teenagers with similar ambitions of yours when you were in high school, amateurs who only knew how to make box cake mix and chocolate chip cookies (you shuddered at the fear of inaccuracy), and other people who only wanted to work because you were cute. After shoving the last person out for said reason, you hit your head on the stacks of resumes in your hand. You were beginning to lose hope in whoever would aid you in helping out the bakery, and at this point you were thinking of switching locations to a smaller storefront so you could manage it all by yourself. Just as you set down the stacks of papers, you hear the door’s bell jingle, and a man who couldn’t be much older than you walks in.

And you couldn’t miss how cute this guy was. He walked in with a simple outfit on, a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but you could tell that he was fit from the way his arms contoured as he pushed through the door.

“Good uhh...afternoon!” He starts off, pausing halfway to check his watch for the time to make sure he was accurate with the time. “My friend Hoseok was telling me about how one of his favorite bakeries was hiring and I was curious if the position was still open?” His fringe fell in front of his eyes and you were faintly reminded of a coconut.

You hummed in approval, smiling softly. “Ah yes, Mr. Jung and his love of strawberry shortcakes, my own specialty! Well, we are still hiring indeed,” you nod towards the table with the stacks of resumes still stacked. You both take a seat at said table, and he rummages around in his backpack before giving his own resume to you.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook, I’m fresh out of undergrad and I would like to help out in the kitchen!” Jungkook introduces himself to you with a small smile, and you gloss over the resume that he had just given you. He recently graduated from one of the top schools in the nation and his previous job experiences have all been working at Michelin star restaurants. Quite honestly, you were shocked. Whatever deity above had planned for you, you were pleasantly surprised with the outcome. Your mouth opens to a small o as you set down the resume, blinking at him.

“You graduated from one of the best schools in the nation, used to work at a Michelin star restaurant, and now you’re here? Why?” You questioned carefully, not to sound too harsh with your word choice. Jungkook’s ears went pink and he looked down into his lap.

“I… Really like the small bakery concept.” He says quietly, his voice suddenly softer and lacking the confidence that was once in his voice. You had to lean in a little more to hear what he was saying, intrigued. “I found my passion of baking when I studied abroad in France my junior year of college, seeing all the different ways this art had come along.” You smile softly, the memory close to your heart as well.

“What’s your favorite thing to bake, Mr. Jeon?” You asked after a pause of comfortable silence. He smiled to himself, before looking up at you. “I love making tarts!”

And with that, you knew the search was over. A cute guy with a passion to making tarts, something you could never nail yourself? “Welcome to the team, Jungkook!” You grinned, holding out your hand.

—

Hiring Jungkook was arguably the best and worst thing to happen to your bakery. On one hand, he was bringing in a lot of customers, the bakery was more busy than it has been before, you could get him to carry most of the deliveries in, and you could finally reach the Good Stand Mixer that your friend put on the top shelf, for some reason. Maybe it was so that the next person you would hire would have good muscles, or by some miracle, you’d grow a bunch so you can reach the top shelf.

However, since the bakery had been getting more busy, you couldn’t be as lax as you were before. With the amount of girls coming in to ogle at Jungkook when he would work at the counter, you had to wake up 2 hours earlier than you would usually to make enough to last you to at least 2:30, and your bakery opened up at 11 AM every day.

Not to mention, he wasn’t just a distraction to the girls coming in. You couldn’t stop yourself from watching his muscles flex while he stirred the last of a cake batter together, or feel a slight twinge of jealousy when he would arrive before it’s time to open up the shop and see his snatched waistline before he put on his apron over his outfit.

You couldn’t blame him, though. He was as equally as dedicated to the bakery as you were, as shown from the multiple times you’d come into the bakery early and he’d already be there, working on something in the kitchen, his oversized black shirt covered in flour.

“Oh? You’re here early, Jungkookie.” You muse, sipping from the mug of cherry blossom tea that you brought down. You lived in the apartment right above the bakery, so you were comfortable with coming down in the morning in your pajamas before Jungkook would come in to help finish off what you had started to decorate. He grinned at you, revealing what he had been working on so early in the morning.

“Ta-da! Try this, it’s a blueberry basil tart!” He smiled so hard that the crinkles in his eyes appeared, a different kind of smile than the one he would show the girls who would come in. You set down the mug, walking over and grabbing a pair of forks for you and him. He already had grabbed a knife to slice a piece of tart for you, beyond excited for you to try the tart. You hold out another fork with him, clinking the forks together before taking a bite of the tart.

You knew this boy said he was famous for his tarts, but what he had put in front of you was like nothing else of its kind. You looked up at his smile, eyes wild in bewilderment.

“Hey Jungkook, do you think you can make like… 4 more of these, full sized? I think I might put them on the menu for today…” You start off. You had never even entertained the idea of a pastry of the day until he came along. His eyes lit up and he grinned at you, suddenly enveloping you in a hug.

“Thank you for giving me a chance, this is what I was truly missing in the Michelin star restaurant experience.” He whispered into your ear, you still being frozen from the sudden hug. You awkwardly hug him back, patting his back and nodding slowly.

“No problem, Kook. Now get to work! We need to put this on the menu.” You pulled away, giving Jungkook two thumbs up and going to the front of the house to find the whiteboard marker to write on the mirror behind the cash register. Jungkook went into full concentration mode, and you started to clean in preparation for the wave of girls that were to come in soon.

—

Turns out that Jungkook making new pastries every day brought out your own creative side as well. Often times, instead of waking up early, you would make some cold brew coffee in the morning and drink it while you were brainstorming ideas to make at night. Jungkook would also stay up with you to a certain extent, but you found out that he lived an hour away from the bakery and when 10:30 would hit, you’d practically push him out of the bakery and wait for his bus with him before going up to your apartment to sleep.

This would become a regular occurrence, even if it meant he would try to pout his way through asking you to stay over. However, one day, you forget to do so. You and Jungkook were super invested in making an earl grey lavender panna cotta that you had seen in a recipe book beforehand but didn’t remember any of the measurements that came along with it. Needless to say, the last 7 hours were tweaking the perfect earl grey to lavender ratio, as well as scooping out the usual popular cookie flavors so you could just pop them in the oven tomorrow morning.

“Let’s take a break, yeah Kookie?” You arched your back, hearing your spine pop in satisfaction before grabbing your phone. He picked up his phone as well, shooting a look at you when the clock read 1 AM.

“Were we really… Grinding for 7 hours for opening today?” He questioned, confused. You raised an eyebrow, checking your own phone and your eyes almost popping out of their sockets. You were pretty sure that the buses weren’t running anymore and you didn’t know how to get Jungkook home since rideshares in your area weren’t always the best.

“Uh, do you have a car or something to take you home?” You asked, leaning onto the counter when he ruffled his hair, shaking his head. “I can call you an Ube--” “Is it possible for me to stay over tonight? I don’t wanna worry my my mom if i’m in an untrusted car,” he smiled, pinching your cheek. “And I don’t want you to worry either. What if I get kidnapped?” He jokes lightly, but your eyes widen in realization that he’s probably right, what if he had died on his way home? You couldn’t bear to lose another beloved worker, especially one that had done way more for the business than you would like to admit.

“I haven’t cleaned in like, a week, but I guess you can come up and crash on my couch for the night?” You were skeptical. Not to mention, Jungkook would be the first boy (that isn’t your best friend’s boyfriend) that would be up in your apartment, and needless to say, you were extremely nervous. Not like your apartment wasn’t dirty, you liked to keep it pretty tidy, and even all your Rilakkuma bears were arranged pretty nicely on your bed and couch.

Even so, you couldn’t drive and it would be cruel to send him home so late. “... Mayhaps, but you still have to show up for work tomorrow, yeah, Kookie?” You say sternly, and he smiled happily, nodding.

“Thank you so so much! I owe you my life, mon petit chou!” The nickname slips out of Jungkook’s mouth and his eyes widen, covering his mouth.

You blink, tilting your head. “A small cabbage, how cute.” You laugh softly, going over to the door that led upstairs. “Well, what are you waiting for? Are you gonna stand there shocked all night or are you coming up?” You ask, making Jungkook snap out of his shocked state and follow you up the stairs. You fumbled with the keys for a quick second before opening the door and toeing off your shoes. Your apartment was a small one bedroom apartment with a futon couch in the living room with 3 bear plushies on it. You went to go grab the spare pillows and blankets in the bedroom closet, gently reminding Jungkook to take off his shoes before setting up his bed for the night.

“Why don’t you go shower so I can set up your bed? I can get you a towel and something to change into?” You turn to Jungkook, who was currently taking off his sneakers. You smile, ruffling his head and opening the door to the bathroom. You grabbed a towel and large shirt that you hoped would fit him as well as some flannel pants, both acquired from when your friend moved away, and set it in the bathroom. As Jungkook went in to shower, you set up the couch to be bearable for at least one night.

When Jungkook came out of the bathroom, you were half awake, watching Great British Bake Off on Netflix and wrapped up in the fleece blanket you had set for him to sleep with, already changed into your sleepwear. He smiled softly, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

“Are you having fun, petit chou?” He laughed softly, you nodding in and out of your sleep. You were too tired to form a response, you two watching together as they struggled to bake their roulades in time. By the time the episode was over, the room was more quiet than usual. Jungkook stretched his limbs out and sat up to ask you a question, however, you were knocked out, curled up in a warm fleece ball and hugging the Korilakkuma plush close. He smiled, rearranging you so you were laying down on the couch, laying on the floor and preparing himself for a less comfortable night than what you attempted to prepare for him.

—

You woke up the next morning, unfamiliar with your surroundings for about 5 seconds before realizing you were on your couch. You relaxed back into the couch, before freezing up once more. Why were you on the couch?

You sit up on the couch, turning towards the TV and noticing the sleeping figure on the floor. Jungkook had fallen asleep on the floor, one arm cushioning the back of his head and the other one lazily wrapped around his waist, making you feel terrible. Gingerly stepping around Jungkook, you started to make breakfast for the both of you. You plugged in your headphones and started playing music as you took out the ingredients for Nutella crepes.

Jungkook woke up half an hour later, sitting up and watching you wrap up the crepes before clearing his throat. You didn’t pay attention to the sound, Shawn Mendes’s In My Blood blasting in your earbuds. One moment you heard Shawn’s voice loud and clear, and suddenly, one earbud was gently tugged out of your ear, but enough that it startled you.

“Jesus, Kookie, can’t I enjoy Shawn Mendes in peace?” You frown up at him. He flashed a grin at you, shaking his head. He stepped away from you and walked around to go stand at the opposite side of the table, grabbing a plate and thanking you for the breakfast. You both eat in a comfortable silence, your headphones long discarded in favor of the quiet morning with Jungkook.

After breakfast, you got ready while he washed dishes, much to your protest. You also figured out over breakfast that you would be in charge of the front of the house, so you went into the bathroom to put on your face of makeup and putting in your contacts before coming out. You were mesmerized by the way his muscles moved while he was doing simple things such as washing the dishes. He catches you staring, grinning when you blush and turn away, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and start baking off the cookies, yeah?” You say, still not looking up at him. “You go wash up, you smell, Kookie.” You waved to the younger, laughing awkwardly. You didn’t want to make eye contact since you knew Jungkook had that stupid shit-eating grin on his face. “Don’t forget to lock the door before going down, yeah?” You were putting on your shoes, checking if you had everything one more time (even if you did live upstairs from where you worked).

And it baffled you as to why you suddenly got extremely jealous with every girl that walked through and flirted with Jungkook that day.

--

There are 14 days in 2 weeks. In the last 14 days, Jungkook stayed over 10 times.

You weren’t complaining at all, however. You were kinda glad that the weird tension from the first time that Jungkook had stayed over had gone away, and even if he was staying on the couch, it wasn’t weird. You two even stayed up sometimes running to the 7/11 near your house to pick up some things that you could easily distinguish as his in your house including a child’s toothbrush of Ryan, the Kakao Talk character, some bunny slippers for wearing inside the house, and a bunch of candy that you guys could snack on while watching The Great British Bake Off.

Some nights, however, you felt lonely, even if there were two people in your one bedroom apartment. You would fall asleep thinking about if Jungkook was in the empty space next to you, cuddling into your bear plush harder and wishing it was the brown haired boy instead. You would dream about doing extremely domestic things with him, waking up and bitterly drinking a cup of coffee within the same boat as your emotions.

You couldn’t even get started on seeing him in the morning. While he was at the stand mixer making the first batch of meringues for the day, you had to refrain from hugging him from behind. You know he probably wouldn’t mind you back hugging him but to be safe, you just stood next to him and quietly leaned on him. You didn’t miss the soft smile that would curve onto his face and the arm that wrapped around you to pull you into a side hug. Your heart was beating so loud that you feared that he would hear and tease you, but he never said anything about it.

As the days passed by, you noticed that Jungkook would bring upstairs more and more of his personal items before work began (if he went home that previous night), and the sun started to set before 6:30. This was the prime time to finally make a move that could change gears on your relationship with Jungkook. “Ah, the autumnal equinox. The rise of pumpkin spice, chai tea, apple flavored baked goods, and cuffing season.” Jungkook saunters into the bakery bright and early, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned to him, squinting at all of the things he had just listed. He grinned at your reaction, peeking over your shoulder to see the words flavor of the day: chai spice macarons written on the announcement mirror.

“And I see you’ve fallen victim to at least one of those things.” He chuckles and you roll your eyes, turning back around with the whiteboard marker in hand. You continue to mind your own business decorating said mirror, humming along to Don’t Forget by Crush and Taeyeon playing in the background. A few beats pass before you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, his brown hair coming into view on your right side as his chin rests comfortably on your shoulder. Typically, the height difference would’ve been a lot more noticeable, but since you were standing on a stool to write on the mirror comfortably, the difference was bearable for once. You freeze up a little and you bump your head lightly into him, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Do you need something, Kookie?” You question, and he squeezes his arms lightly around your waist. Since the weather was cooling down, you opted to wear a fluffy knit sweater over some high waisted shorts, and when he squeezed, you could feel his arms around you instead of just the fabric lightly pressing into your skin.

“Do you think… I could sleep with you in your bed tonight?” He asks softly, and your eyes widen, dropping the marker in your hand. Upon seeing your reaction, his own eyes widen for a second before he laughs. “No, not like that, silly! Unless you want to-” he starts, before you start to wiggle out of his grasp.

“You’re disgusting, Kook,” you laugh off, hiding your embarrassed expression and shaking your head. He grins, squeezing you tighter in his grasp. “... But since you asked so nicely, I guess. Don’t expect me to cuddle you, though! I would still prefer to cuddle with my bear rather than you!” You joke lightly, the lie going right through your teeth. He grins, nuzzling into your neck and making you blush even more. This was the first time that he’d ever been so affectionate with you aside from the casual side hug, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the favor or if he was being legitimate with laying on the affection so heavy.

“Mhm, but you’re still warm nonetheless so don’t be surprised when you wake up and I’m spooning you.” He releases his hold on you, grinning and going into the kitchen. You were stuck in your place, hearing the pans start to bang in the back and you just sighed, burying your face into your hands. Tonight will be a long night, and you’re not sure whether or not you’re on board with it or you’re against it.

—

“Hey, I think we should head up, yeah?” Jungkook nudges you as you pull out your latest attempt at your friend’s famous recipe for apple cider donuts. You purse your lips, looking at your watch. The watch read back 2:30 AM, and you realized that meant by the time you got into the bed (with Jungkook, you mentally reminded yourself), you would have to wake up in 3 hours.

“Kookie, why didn’t you tell me earlier? You knew we would have to get up early to finish the cakes anyways!” You huffed, pouting at him. He laughed softly, pulling the tray of donuts from your hand and placing them onto the speed rack.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled, taking your hand as you both headed towards the door that led to the upstairs apartment. “You just looked super in thought with whatever you were baking, I didn’t want to interrupt.” You noticed the way he held your hand, as you guys both went up the stairs. “I was also busy with closing up the shop, since you were in the back of the house all day. Why don’t you wash up first, hm? I’m gonna make some tea for us.” He patted your head, going into the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. His uniform was still on, you noticed, making you smile as you went into the bathroom to prepare for the night.

Once you were out the bathroom, you could hear Jungkook on the phone when you waddled out in your pajamas, and he turned when he heard your feet padding through the hallway. He bid goodbye to who he was on the phone with (his mother, you presumed) and he held out the mug full of sleepytime tea to you. He had taken off the apron, and his hair, once styled to reveal his forehead, had been reverted back to his natural hairstyle. You waddled over, taking the mug with a silent thanks and you sat across from him at the bar table.

“What’s your fondest memory?” You ask him after you finished half your tea, making him look up from absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. He purses his lips in thought, before sighing.

“When I studied abroad during my junior year, I was stuck at the train station and I didn’t have enough money to get home. I didn’t know what to do, so I set down the hat I was wearing at the time and I started to sing.” He nodded, taking another sip of his tea. “I only say it was fond because so many people gathered around to hear me do this mediocre cover of Sofa by Crush, and so many girls offered to pay for me. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even hit most of the lower notes.” He laughed softly, finishing the tea in his mug, watching as you also finish your tea. “What about you?” He questions after setting both mugs in the empty sink, you standing to join him at the other side of the table.

“I think my fondest memory has to be opening up this bakery. Me and my best friend had always talked about opening up a bakery together, and seeing it all come together seems like it happened so long ago, when in reality the bakery’s only been open for two years, going on three in February.” You smile fondly at the memory of the first day, leaning on him. “I’ve always been super dedicated to the bakery, if there was a day that passed that I didn’t want to work to open it, I feared I would lose the passion to open it...” You were beginning to fight the sleepiness, and he could tell.

“Let’s get to sleep, yeah?” He picks you up, your arms wrapping around his neck on instinct. You clung to him like a sloth, nuzzling your head into his neck. Once you two got into your room, he laid you down gently, pulling the bear you promised to hug from where he was to lay and into your arms. He went to go change into his nightwear, and soon enough, you felt the bed dip and a certain pair of muscular arms encircle you, as well as a soft whisper of your name.

“Goodnight, mon petit chou.”

“Shut up, Jungkook”

—

When you woke up the next morning, the bear you promised you’d cuddle all night had ended up on the floor, the bed sheets tangled between your and Jungkook’s legs, and you were cuddling into his chest as much as you could. He was still fast asleep, holding onto you like you were about to fall apart in his arms any moment. The warmth that you two created was too comfortable to move, and you contemplated closing the bakery for the day to stay in bed all day with him.

An alarm went off what felt like 10 minutes later, Troye Sivan’s Youth playing throughout the room. Of course that was Jungkook’s ringtone. You laughed at the thought but when you saw that he wasn’t waking up immediately, you took matters into your own hands. Rolling over him so you were on top, you sat up straight before shaking him a little.

“Kookie, it’s time to wake up for work!” You chirp, seeing a grin rise on his face. Suddenly, you were pulled down from arms that snuck up to your face. You yelped in surprise, wiggling wildly when he laughed softly against your struggle.

“You make too much noise in the morning and you’ve barely moved.” He says into your ear, one arm letting half of your body free as he snoozes his alarm. “Let’s just stay in~ I don’t want to leave the bed.” He grinned, nuzzling your neck. Right as you were about to answer him back, you hear your text tone go off, your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. You sit up on top of Jungkook, pursing your lips in curiosity of what they had wanted so early in the morning.

“I think we’d have to close today anyways, we’re busy!” You grinned, showing him your screen. Your friend had sent a message about a cake for a locally famous artist, Kim Taehyung. Jungkook raised an eyebrow as to question why you would need his contact. “My friend and I have been in talks with Taehyung since we opened this place, and we’re in charge of making the star of his next gallery opening, the most over-the-top cake you can imagine!” You were ecstatic, much like a kid being given an unlimited budget in a candy store. Jungkook smiled at your excitement, happy for you as well as the bakery.

“So we’re closing up shop today so we can work on this cake with the artist?” Jungkook questioned. He wanted to know more about this Taehyung character and your relation to him. He knew of the artist from some of his shows at art museums around the city, since Jungkook was also a fan of art. You crawled back into the bed with Jungkook, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Yep! And not to mention, since it’s only the appointment today, we can stay in and sleep a little longer.” Your arm lazily draped around him, giggling as he pulled you closer and enclosing you in his arms.

“Oh? More time with you is always great.” He grinned down at you. You couldn’t look at him long, since you knew you’d get lost in him if you stared any longer. You felt something soft brush the top of your head, and as quick as it was there, it was gone. “What time do we have to be downstairs then, hm?” He asks quietly, stroking your hair slowly and you felt yourself falling asleep under his touch.

“We go down when the bakery typically opens, and we just talk with the client,” you say sleepily, snuggling into him, “and then we draw up the cake and make the dream come true, since we only get a 48 hour notice, unless it’s a wedding cake.” You two fall in a comfortable silence, and when Jungkook realizes your breathing has gone even and you were fast asleep, he smiles, kissing your forehead and bidding you a goodnight before falling asleep himself, his head resting comfortably on top of yours.

—

Jungkook’s first love was you. He always thought that falling in love hit you immediately, but he fell in love with the way you did small things, how you used to wait with him for the bus home, telling him to text you when he gets back, and even the way you looked when you were so deep in concentration while decorating a single dessert. It was one of his own mottos that living without passion is like being dead, and it filled his heart with joy to see how passionate you were about the bakery.

He didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to make eye contact with Taehyung when the three of you were in the room together. You and Taehyung had clicked and when he decided to zone back into the conversation, you two would be reminiscing about your high school days. From the information that he gathered, you two and the original co-owner of the bakery were the inseparable trio during high school, and while you were drawing out the cake, he noticed that sometimes Taehyung would take the pencil from you and draw some of his own things, and he wasn’t sure if you were totally okay with that.

The hour consultation felt like years to Jungkook, and when it was over he was more than relieved. You and Taehyung said your goodbyes and once Taehyung left, Jungkook wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and never let you go.

--

“What’s up, Jungkook? You seem a little off.” You frown, poking at Jungkook’s side. The time after Taehyung left, Jungkook had been uncharacteristically silent, literally punching into the fondant while he was kneading it out. You figured the poking was going to do nothing, so you went with the second thing that would definitely get his attention. Your arms wrapped around him from behind, the younger boy immediately going tense. He stopped kneading the fondant, sighing and turning to you. He enclosed you in a warm hug, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“I don’t know, I felt super out of place when you and Taehyung were talking.” He admits, not wanting to look at you. He didn’t want to see how sad you would get when both of you would make eye contact. You blink, trying to figure out why he was so sensitive about Taehyung, when it all clicked in a second.

“Kookie~ Are you jealous of Taehyung?” You giggled, pulling away and scrunching up your nose at him. “Why would you be jealous of Tae?” Jungkook’s ears went red. He turned away from you, the embarrassment creeping up on him quick. You laughed softly, shaking your head at him.

“I don’t know… I didn’t like the way he was looking at you and stuff. It sounds stupid, we’re not even dating, let alone roommates, but like--” Your laughing caught him off guard from him spilling his feelings, and for a split second, he was offended. You made eye contact with him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Kookie… He’s gay and we’ve been best friends for years, it’s nothing big, okay?” You patted his head, pulling away completely. He stood there shocked, mouth wide open. You tilted your head slightly in curiosity, a slightly amused look on your face as he started to stutter. “Enough of that, Jungkookie! Let’s get to baking this cake! The event is tomorrow and I’m not letting you stay in my apartment to just gawk at my friends and their sexual orientation!” You grinned, going back to trimming the cakes. Jungkook shook his head, going back to kneading the colors into the fondant. He really should’ve asked more about Taehyung preceding the consultation, but what was done was done, and he just made a big fool of himself in front of you.

----

The cake that Taehyung wanted was requested as such: “This is my first solo show, and a lot of my pieces are based off of my trip to Italy. Can you make something reminiscent of the Spanish Steps in Rome? But in a fashion that it incorporates mostly this one specific blue palette! Oh, and the cake flavors could be chocolate cappuccino torte!”. Even if you did love Taehyung with all your soul, him being the missing third in your best friend trio, his request was insane and you had to brainstorm the final idea 4 times before both of you compromised on the final look.

You and Jungkook worked nonstop on the cake, only pausing when an alarm went off at 7 to eat food instead of just sustaining off of small pieces of cake and other various leftover desserts that were left in the fridge that had not spoiled.

As you guys ate dinner, Jungkook had a million questions about Taehyung. Such questions included things as how you met, craziest thing you had done together, and if he ever kissed you, which you couldn’t help but look at him as if he was insane. The conversation was so extensive that it had gone into past dinner and into your round two of throwing the cakes in the refrigerator and molding fondant flowers.

You couldn’t help but look over at Jungkook’s concentrated state, watching him delicately thin the edges of the petal and attach it onto the rest of the fondant flower. Taehyung had chosen the crocus flower for this cake, a flower that both you and Jungkook were unfamiliar with. You took it upon yourself earlier to google what the flower was and it what it looked like. The crocus flower is a late blooming flower, an autumn flower that represents youthful joy, which you thought was extremely fitting for Taehyung. Once you and Jungkook saw the image, you set to work with the fondant, teaching Jungkook since he had never made fondant flowers before.

The quiet of the bakery seemed to be too much for the both of you, so a while after dinner, you turned your phone back on to blast music in the back of the house on the overhead speakers. You two worked all night, leaving the fondant flowers out to dry, doweling the cake, and making the basic structural components to the cake. Time seemed to pass by faster when you were working with music, sometimes you would catch Jungkook staring at you while you were working, and while you joked with him to get back to work, you also couldn’t help but stare at him when it was his turn to be busy.

A pot of tea later you and Jungkook had finally finished, watching the sun rise through the window and the early morning businessmen speed walk their way to the train. The clock read 8AM as you both went back up into your apartment, not even bothering to change as you both wiped out on your bed, your head resting on Jungkook’s chest and his arm wrapped around your waist.

By the time you had woken up, it was 3PM, and the lack of warmth from underneath you had woken you up. You smelled something coming from the kitchen, which automatically registered as fear in your brain. The last time Jungkook had cooked in the kitchen, he ended up burning the scrambled eggs that he tried surprising as breakfast in bed for you, and you had woken up just in time before your kitchen (your most sacred area in the house) had burned down. You immediately kicked off the covers, speed waddling into the kitchen to be met with Jungkook’s back, bent over to the oven to pull out a pan of roasted brussel sprouts, potatoes, and beets. Jungkook turned around, flinching a little by your presence, but laughing at your surprised reaction because of him cooking with ease.

“I googled a recipe, if you were wondering.” Jungkook smiled, setting the pan down over the stove and removing the oven mitt. You breathed a sigh of relief, walking over to Jungkook and grabbing bowls and forks from the cabinet.

“We shouldn’t eat a lot, Kookie. If we have a lot of time tonight, I’ll make dinner, okay?” You passed him a bowl, pulling out a spatula to spoon some of the vegetables on the pan onto your plate. You and Jungkook ate in silence, and you took into account the different spices he had used, each differing with the vegetable he had used. After your meal, you both went back downstairs to put the cake into the box, carrying it into the car. The cake ended up being 4 tiers and if you were honest, one of the best cakes you had done. You felt a surge of pride as you and Jungkook went back, a smile so wide on your face that Jungkook couldn’t help but notice.

“What’s with the smile, hm?” Jungkook pinched your cheek lightly, your attention going back to him. He seemed to beam when he was opening the door for you, the sun setting by the time you went back into the store front. You gestured to go back upstairs, your smile less wide but still with as much heart as before.

“I’m just really proud of this cake, as stupid as it sounds. I’ve made and decorated a lot of cakes in the short time of me being a professional baker, but this one really does hold a special place in my heart because of the aesthetic Tae was going for. I went to Italy for a semester abroad in college and just seeing how similar it looks to when I went, I feel proud with the outcome of the cake.” You smiled, unlocking the door and kicking your shoes off immediately. As you walked over to the couch, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel his heart surge with a new wave of love for you.

“Let’s go to Italy someday,” Jungkook blurts out, making you turn around. His eyes widen and he’s quick to follow up “... soon! Like as a friend vacation or something, we can bring along like, Hoseok and Taehyung or something.” He scratches the back of your head. You blush at the idea of going out to Italy, just the two of you on a gondola, leaning in for a kiss--

Your text tone snaps you out of your thoughts, a specific sound only set aside for texts from Taehyung. You whip out your phone, unlocking it quickly to see the message.

[From: Taehyungie 4:15 PM]: heyyyy bb forgot 2 tell u

[From: Taehyungie 4:15 PM]: yr invited tnight!! bring ur bf

[From: Taehyungie 4:16 PM]: cocktail party, not too formal, dont forget the cake

You furrowed your brows at the text, completely disregarding the second part of the second text. Taehyung must have something up his sleeve if he was inviting you along, but you knew you couldn’t get it out of him. You knew Taehyung was good at one thing particularly, and that was the element of surprise.

“Ah, looks like we were invited? It’s not out of the ordinary, but I don’t know if you brought any semi-formal clothes?” You looked up at the younger one, who’s current outfit was his usual white shirt and black pants, only instead of it being clean, it was covered in flour, freeze dried fruit powder, and powdered sugar.

“Oh, I think you mentioned it to me, I can go see what I brought? You can change first, I’ll just change after you.” He nods, watching you type away on your phone. You quickly typed a response, making sure Jungkook couldn’t see your phone. You got up from the couch, walking into your room and into the closet.

[To: Taehyungie 4:23 PM]: o,,, ok

[To: Taehyungie 4:23 PM]: hes not my boyfriend tae

[From: Taehyungie 4:25 PM]: ok but dont blame me when i claim his as mine :P

[From: Taehyungie 4:26 PM]: set up the cake in the main room and then come into the main gallery, you wont miss much with the way you work!!!

You looked up at the dresses that were hanging in your closet, opting for a black halter neck keyhole dress. You hurried into the bathroom, changing quickly and grabbing all the makeup and your contacts, doing your makeup in the vanity as Jungkook went in to change into whatever he pulled out.

When the bathroom door opened once you were done doing your makeup, you knew if you weren’t gone before from what charms Jungkook had, you were definitely a goner by now. Jungkook walked back out with his hair styled to reveal his forehead, a little makeup on, with a fitted all-black tuxedo look, dressed down a little with a few buttons unbuttoned so that it was more casual than having a tie on over the black dress shirt. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man dress up this nice and this well, and you’ve gone to numerous opera nights where the dress code was formal. Your face went red as he turned to face you, a smirk on his face. It was different than the shit eating smile that he would give you when he wanted something from you.

No, this was some kinda Big Dick Energy smile you had only seen once before. You shuddered when he checked you out, a lazy grin on his face. This was not the first time Jungkook had teased you like this. He’d only done this once before when you were seeing him off one night at the bus stop, after he asked for a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

“You clean up pretty well, mon petit chou.” He chuckles, and you had to hide your blushing face from him. Your hands quickly flew to your face, and all you could hear was his faint laugh. “Why won’t you look at me, hmm?” He typically didn’t like to play around like this, but seeing you all flustered over his look made him feel more confident in the look.

“There you go with the cabbage thing again! Why do you keep calling me a cabbage?” You pouted up at Jungkook, trying to wiggle your hands out of his grasp. He chuckled, letting go of your hands.

“I’ll explain later, but for now, we have an event to go to, don’t we?” Jungkook grinned, standing up and extending his hand to you. You sighed, rolling your eyes and grabbing his hand. Once he pulled you up from the bed and you rearranged your dress, you both went to go slip on your pair of easy black heels, and respectively, his own dress shoes (which you had never seen till today? Jungkook was full of surprises). When you were coming up from fastening your shoes, you felt something wet brush your cheek, making you go red once more. Jungkook had just kissed your cheek and you were trying your hardest not to freak out.

“I bet you’ll be prettier than the art there.” Jungkook says softly, his body ridiculously close to yours. He was being ridiculously flirty, and if he wanted to play like that, well, two people can play that game. You grinned, biting your lip and looking up at him.

“Careful Jeon, you might distract me from the art.” You giggle upon seeing Jungkook’s shocked reaction to flirting back with him, grabbing his hand as you both go down the stairs, almost forgetting to lock the door on your way down.

The car ride there consisted of small playful banter and small flirting back and forth. You couldn’t miss the way how one of Jungkook’s hands rested on your thigh for the ride there, but your mind was stuck on how much you still had to put together at the venue, most of the flowers that you had made still not on the cake in fear of them falling over and breaking during transport. As if Jungkook could feel your worry radiate off of you, he would draw small circles on the flesh of your outer thigh where his hand rested near your knee, calming down your nerves.

The venue was on the opposite side of town, so while you and Jungkook drove down the scenic highway along the lake, you couldn’t help but roll the windows down and let the wind blow through your hair. You heard Jungkook laughing while you watched the skyline come into view and disappear down the highway, marveling at the city. Had it not been for the changing scenery from blues to the yellow leaves on the trees on the way down, you would have thought this was a normal summer night between a couple teenagers.

Once you two got to the venue, you found a cart to wheel in the cake while Jungkook found the last of the fondant flowers in the back, safe from any damage even if the ride down to the venue was smooth. You and Jungkook wheeled in the cake, carefully putting it on the table. The space you and Jungkook were in was quite empty, which gave you a nice ambience so that you could finish the cake.

Rather, you take out the fondant flowers while Jungkook put them on the cake, since he could actually see to the top of the cake. After placing the last few flower buds on the cake and doing some last minute touch ups, you two went into the main room, as Taehyung had instructed in his text. Before opening the door to the gallery where bossanova jazz played softly, Jungkook held out his arm for you to link with, a soft smile on his face. Grinning back, you swallowed your heart back down as you linked arms with him. He kissed your cheek, to your surprise, and when you looked back at him, he chucked softly.

“Let’s give them something to talk about, mon petit chou.”

The gallery itself seemed smaller than you remembered from when you were younger, a lot of ridiculously large prints of photos and abstract oil paintings contributed from Taehyung’s collection. There were some you had recognized from older exhibits where his art had been featured, and seeing how his art had grown made your heart swell. You had known Taehyung for a ridiculously long time now, and just seeing where his art had taken him made you extremely proud.

As you and Jungkook marveled at Taehyung’s work, you heard someone yell your name in the venue, and hurried heel clicking. Before you could register who could be yelling your name, a body slammed onto yours and a familiar laugh filled your ears, one that you hadn’t heard since Jungkook came into your life.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Your best friend, Ji Hae, who you had opened up the bakery with beamed at you. Ji Hae looked Jungkook up and down, and it only took her a split second to recognize him. “And you must be the new baker that every Yelp review is talking about! I’m Ji Hae, co-owner of the bakery!” Ji Hae held out her hand to shake Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook’s arm around you slipped off and shook her hand, smiling.

“Ah, I’m Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you, Ji Hae.” He smiled. After he introduced himself, Ji Hae snaked her arms around your waist, grinning.

“You won’t mind if I borrow her, right? I need to catch up with her.” Ji Hae didn’t leave any time for Jungkook to reply as you were pulled away from him. You were completely confused but once you realized you were moving, your senses kicked in.

“Ah, Jungkookie, if you wanna go home and I’m not back, just text me!” You called out before your friend pulled you to another part of the gallery. Jungkook shook his head, going back to admiring the photograph in front of him. It was only a few beats before a flute of champagne was held in front of him. The flute was being offered by Taehyung, who was also holding a glass himself.

“Did they leave you alone? I told Ji Hae not to do that…” Taehyung tsked. Jungkook accepted the champagne from him, nodding.

“Ji Hae surely is a character… The both of them get along well.” Jungkook chuckled, looking over at Taehyung. Jungkook took a sip, watching Taehyung in his peripheral vision nod thoughtfully.

“How much do you know about your co-worker, Jungkook?” Taehyung questioned, Jungkook almost spitting out his champagne. He blinked slowly at the older man, Taehyung looking back at Jungkook with a raised eyebrow. The younger brown haired man coughed a little, wiping his mouth a little from the champagne that threatened to escape his mouth.

“W-well, I know she knows minimal french from high school, her birthday, her favorite tea is herbal and she only has real coffee once a month--” Jungkook rambles before Taehyung holds up a hand, shaking his head.

“No no, what do you know about her? All that stuff you just listed out is basic. Is there anything that catches your attention? It doesn’t have to be big and glaring, small things are things as well.” He grins at Jungkook. Jungkook tilts his head in confusion before it finally clicked in his head.

“Well, when she’s deep in concentration, she tilts her head just slightly, even if the orientation of whatever she’s working on is completely straight. Her favorite color and the colors that she’s attracted to are completely different, and if anyone sings around her, her nose scrunches, although I’m not sure why…” Jungkook trails off, thinking harder about your little nuances, but Taehyung’s chuckles snapped him out of the thoughts before he could delve deeper.

“That sounds so classic of her. You know she was a music major in high school? She’s an amazing singer and it’s sad she doesn’t use her voice all that often anymore. I think you’re the only person to know that about her outside of anyone who knew us back then. I have also never heard of any guy observe her that hard.” Taehyung nods. “Do you spend a lot of time looking at her?” Jungkook goes pink, matching half of Taehyung’s half-and-half pink and blonde hair.

“I’ve been uh… Living with her for the last few months, maybe 3?” This time, it was Taehyung’s time to sputter at the comment. He looked at Jungkook, jaw slack. “So yeah, I guess I’ve been looking at her a lot.” He chuckled nervously.

“I saw her come in with you and she was clinging onto your arm. Is she always that touchy with you or was it just for show tonight?” Taehyung was completely intrigued with your relationship with Jungkook, and Jungkook didn’t know how to avoid the questions, this was Taehyung’s show and he couldn’t go anywhere else without you. You’d probably punch him or something.

“Well, we sleep in the same bed, nothing goes any further than hugging, but sometimes she’ll reach out for my hands to hold, or she’ll automatically lean on me when we’re doing something together.” Jungkook shrugged casually, finishing the champagne that was given to him earlier. Taehyung’s eyebrows raised in surprise, before he set down his half empty glass. He scanned the room before leaning into Jungkook.

“She’s being really touchy and she hasn’t said anything about liking you? Are you sure you aren’t dating?” He reaffirms with Jungkook, who just nods in return. “Just shoot your shot, Kook! She probably does like you, but she doesn’t think about it because she’s so into the bakery.” He flashes Jungkook a boxy grin, punching Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook looked at Taehyung in disbelief, and he was skeptical about Taehyung’s advice. Surely, you couldn’t be into him, right?

“Ah, there you two are!” You came back, automatically going to stick on the side of Jungkook. Taehyung shot Jungkook a look and only wiggled his brows. “Let’s go see the other art!” You smile happily, lightly tugging Jungkook away.

You two continue your night right where it left off, a little bit of flirting here and there, and soon enough, the cake that you two had created was cut. Jungkook noticed that your grip loosened a little, so he took it upon himself to grab a piece of cake off the table and cut off a bite size piece.

“Hey, Earth to mon petit chou, say ah~” Jungkook cooed, snapping you out of your trance. “You’re really distant, are you okay?” He smiles at you, his fork in front of your mouth. You gladly accept the cake at first, watching as his hand sets down the fork on the plate and his arm travels down to hold your hand, squeezing it lightly. You lace fingers with him, nodding a little and smiling. You swallowed the bit of cake before replying to him.

“Yeah, just a little sleepy, should we head back?” You yawn a little, emphasizing on your exhaustion. “I think this is the most human interaction I’ve had in a minute.” You giggle, leaning into Jungkook.

You two congratulate Taehyung on the art show once more, and after numerous hugs and goodbyes are said, you and Jungkook finally make it into the car. Jungkook puts on music once more, but it’s more calm music instead, lulling you to sleep in the car. Once he stopped at the stop sign, he looked over to you, smiling softly as you fall asleep with one of his hands linked with yours. Once you two pull up to your apartment, Jungkook stretches in the car seat and sighs once more. You were dead asleep in the seat, and he figured he would have to carry you back up. He unbuckles his seat belt, cutting off the engine. Getting out of the car and opening your door, he made sure that you wouldn’t fall out, scooping you into his arms bridal-style.

Jungkook fumbles with the keys for a split second, but he managed to open the door with you not waking up, which is a personal surprise for himself. Slipping out of his dress shoes, he opens the door to the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, taking his time to change into his sleepwear. He kept thinking about Taehyung’s words about how you might like him back, as well as the other facts that he had heard from him.

Jungkook walks back out, frowning when he realized you were still in your party clothes. It didn’t vibe with him for you to sleep in the clothes you had gone to the party in. He nudged you gently, watching you stir to face him.

“Hey, don’t you want to change out of your contacts before we sleep?” Jungkook’s voice rang in your ears. A groan escaped your throat as you stretched out in the bed.

“You don’t live enough, Kookie.” You grumble, sitting up so that you could go change out of your contacts and your dress. You padded over to the bathroom, grabbing all the necessary items such as your makeup wipes and your pajamas, slowly getting ready for bed. Once you were back out of the bathroom, you spotted Jungkook lounging on your bed, checking his phone once more and turning on his alarms. You crawled onto his side, pulling the sheets over your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Kookie~” You cooed before falling back asleep by his side. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, gulping nervously at your sleeping figure. Maybe he could entertain the idea that Taehyung was right for a second, that you were in love but you were too oblivious to see it.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how he could live out this imagination, and his heart told him not to pursue anything. He wouldn’t want to ruin anything with the best thing to happen in his life.

----

It was an uncharacteristically slow day at the bakery, you guessed it was because it was finals week for a lot of the schools around you, but nonetheless, a bit too quiet in the bakery. It was actually so quiet that you could hear your thoughts over the soft jazz music that always played at the front of the house. Pursing your lips, you went over to the stereo and turned the music up a little more, bobbing your hair to the music while also rearranging the baked goods.

“First in, first out.” You chanted softly as you rearranged the macarons, making sure to set aside the broken cookies (how did they manage to break?) and the less appealing tarts. Jungkook walked out into the front of the house, seeing you bob to some bossanova before grinning. He goes over to the stereo, turning on a certain album that both you two enjoyed. There was no one in the bakery at the time, so when the song’s beginning started playing, you were thrown off from your flow.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” You sighed, rolling your eyes. You weren’t mad about the music change, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he wrapped his arms around you.

“You don’t have the urge to sing along? We’re too busy to go to karaoke and I’ve never heard you sing, only occasional humming from time to time. Didn’t you go to an arts school for voice?” Jungkook teased, remembering the conversation he had with Taehyung at the gallery opening. Your face flushed, which he took as a positive and he started to sing along first. It was Daniel Caesar and H.E.R’s Best Part, and due to the copious amounts of times you had listened to that song, you memorized the lyrics. The chorus came up quicker than you thought, and you found yourself singing along with Jungkook.

“I just wanna see how beautiful you are…” You start singing along in the octave that H.E.R is singing in, only tuning in a little to hear Jungkook’s lower register. You grin and sing along to the rest, wiggling out of his grasp. You never took the time to actually sing full on anymore, and you felt a little rusty singing along. A little while later, you peeked over to Jungkook, who had apparently stopped singing. He was staring at you in awe, his eyes wide. You sauntered over to him after you were done cleaning out the display case, resting your arms on his shoulders, slow-dance style.

“If you love me, won’t you say something?” You smiled up at him. Your heart swelled when you felt Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, slow dancing with you as he found his voice to sing back to you. He touched foreheads with you, closing his eyes as you closed yours. You both savored the moment, his breath on yours. You could feel your heart beating as if you just ran, and you opened one eye, starting to lean in. The bell on the door suddenly interrupted both of you, Jungkook flying off of you as you turned away from the door, face as red as the raspberry macarons.

“W-welcome to--” Jungkook cleared his throat, silently gesturing you to go to the back of the house while he regained his composure, saying the name of the bakery as you went into the back, fanning your face. You watched as he helped out the mom with her baby, a soft smile on your face.

The music in the bakery continued to play one of Jungkook’s R&B playlists, a Sabrina Claudio song playing next. As you continued to watch him clean up where you left off, you couldn’t quite place the feeling that Jungkook gave you, and you weren’t sure if you liked it or not.

--

According to a lot of love language profiles, your heart usually warmed with the idea of someone surprising you with little things, acts of service, to be specific.

It was a trend with all of your romantic partners in your past, you usually felt extremely appreciative when they did small things like make your cups of tea, wash the dishes, or other extremely domestic things along that sort. In return, you would always try to help them out, but you never felt a click with the people you dated.

You never noticed it, but Jungkook would always do these things for you. He would make you cups of tea and remind you to eat when you would go long hours without any breaks, making you your favorite tea when you were having a down day, or even making you a quick sandwich that sat by your side as a gentle reminder. By the time you would notice these things, he’d always be back to the task at hand, whether that be entertaining the girls in the bakery or making more goods to put out.

The winter season where your bakery was located felt like they started from mid October to April. When November hit, you could feel yourself struggling to get out of bed, the motivation in your body slowly decreasing. Jungkook had started to notice this in you, but he wasn’t sure what was wrong. You usually were extremely happy and upbeat, but for a few weeks, you would barely talk in the morning and would prefer to work in the back of the house. Not to mention, you were a lot more touchy and would typically lean into Jungkook more or back hug him when you had the chance.

Although he didn’t mind, and he would typically reciprocate the touchiness, but he wanted to do more, and worried himself about you to the point where he fell under the weather. You seemed a lot more distant when both of you were upstairs, and you would typically stay downstairs for a little while longer, dismissing Jungkook to go upstairs so that he could sleep earlier and not be so sick coming into work.

You didn’t want to tell Jungkook that you would dismiss him upstairs so that you could meet with other people without worrying him. Although you liked Jungkook a lot, you were scared of how he would look at you if you confessed to him. You didn’t know if he even liked you like that, so it was better to be safe rather than sorry. You’ve been distracting yourself from falling further into the seasonal depression and in love with Jungkook by throwing yourself into the world of online dating, swiping absentmindedly when Jungkook worked front of the house. You had a date tonight, and you attempted to look better than normal before closing up the shop and waiting in front.

You had planned on going out with this guy (His name was Kim Seokjin, a nice guy, really) twice before, but he had always rain checked before you could go out with him, and you guys were planning on going to the holiday market downtown. The meeting was supposed to go that you guys met at the bakery and then make your way down, since the train near your bakery went directly down to the market. You both agreed that you would meet at 7:30, 30 minutes after the bakery closed, but once the clock hit 8, you were losing faith in meeting up with him. You waited for him for another hour, and as much as you wanted to not believe it, you had just been stood up.

Admitting defeat, you sulked immensely, going back up to your apartment. This wasn’t the first guy to do this to you, and you were actively seeking for love from people you thought you clicked with. Your brain started to fill itself with self deprecating thoughts as you opened the door, the soft sounds of the Netflix series Nailed It! playing. Jungkook looked up from the couch, already all showered and ready to go to bed, but on nights like these he would wait for you to come back before you both went to sleep. That, along with all your other overwhelming internal dialogue seemed too much that you started to feel the tears well up in your eyes.

“I’m home…” You barely managed to get out from the overwhelming emotions that washed over you. The TV had no noise coming from it, meaning that either Jungkook had paused it or muted it. You avoided eye contact in the general direction from where he was, the tears falling silently down your face as you yanked off the scarf and fumbled with the buttons of your pea coat. Jungkook noticed the way you rubbed furiously at your eyes almost rhythmically, after every button on your coat was becoming undone. He frowned, sitting up on the couch.

“Is everything alright, chou?” He wanted to stand up, but something in him told him to keep rooted. Jungkook was about to turn back to the tv when he heard something rushing towards him, and suddenly you were in his arms, your own arms wrapped around him tightly as you openly sobbed on him. You had never cried on Jungkook, and here you were, bawling on him. Jungkook started to rub your back gently, squeezing you. He had learned somewhere that during a panic or anxiety attack, you should squeeze the person in order to ease their anxiety. He didn’t know what was wrong, but obviously it was something bothersome enough that it would send you into tears like this. He whispered words of reassurance in your ear, continuing to rub your back slowly.

You both stayed like this for a while, your breathing evening out before Jungkook rolled you over so that you were on the couch. He slowly peeled away and before you could protest, he smiled softly at you and stroked your cheek. “I’m gonna get some stuff, okay? I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.” True to Jungkook’s word, he came back quickly, your blanket, some milk tea that was sitting in a thermos (he probably had made it earlier for you to have when you came home), and a plush that you thought was hidden from him, a little black bear with a heart shaped patch. He sat down next to you again, you automatically curling into him as he wrapped you both in the blanket and made the little bear plush kiss your cheek before setting it in your lap. His arms wrap back around you, stroking your hair softly. “If you’re comfortable, you can tell me what’s wrong, yeah? No rush.” He reassures you. You both sit in a comfortable silence before he hears a sigh come from you. You curl closer into him, the bear being a slight barrier between you and him as you spill to him about the whole date ordeal.

“Jungkookie, I’ve been taken for granted for so fucking long… I always give so much and I never get it reciprocated. It’s almost cruel how scary that giving and receiving ratio is. I’ve been stood up so many times, I’ve never clicked with any of the people I have dated, and I just think something is wrong with me, or maybe I’m too dedicated to this bakery that I can’t ever date.” You bite your lip, smushing the face of the bear in. You had to keep your hands busy so that Jungkook wouldn’t see the trembling in your hands. You couldn’t prevent it for long, however, since Jungkook looked down at your hands playing constantly and held them in his own. You couldn’t look at his eyes, but you could feel his frown. His hands squeezed yours and tears began to resurface. “I just don’t know if anyone will love me for me, in all the times that I’m here running the bakery, love me even with the lack of time.” You could barely get the last part out, hiding your face in Jungkook’s chest once more. Jungkook lets go of your hands, squeezing you once more so that you wouldn’t say any more.

“That’s not true, you have so many people that love you. You have so many friends and I’m sure that they would all hate to see you so sad.” He starts off. There’s a reluctant pause in his voice, a space where he would say he loves you, but before he could say more, you open your mouth.

“I know that there’s that kinda love, but Kook,” you start to emphasize, sulking. “I want someone that I can imagine in my life that kisses me awake and stuff. You have so many girls doting over you, I want to feel like that for someone, you know?” You whine, “That’s just never gonna be me with anyone so I’m just-” He cuts you off by squeezing you again, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You need to hush sometimes, you know?” Jungkook sighs softly, his heart about to burst from what he’s about to say. “I know you won’t give love another chance, but I want to be the one to show you how love can be reciprocated.” His cheeks dust a light pink and you didn’t know how to react. “I promise I won’t break your heart intentionally, I love you too much for that to happen.”

You were in complete disbelief over his confession, because that confession was something that you thought would never happen to you. You would’ve thought that eventually, Jungkook would’ve gotten a girlfriend (that wasn’t you) and would have to quit the bakery and leave you alone once more. For a split second, you thought Jungkook was lying before you realized he was a man of his word. Even with the smallest promises, Jungkook would always be able to live up to the promises.

“It’s always been you, mon petit chou.” He smiles softly, wiping the last of the tears that were on your face. That was the last thing you heard before you pulled him in, a sweet kiss that tasted like the earl grey vanilla tea. He gladly returned the sweet little kiss, pulling away from you.

“I kinda… wanna bake with you for like a long time. Maybe forever.” You blush, covering your eyes at your stupid confession. You didn’t know how else to phrase it, and the way you said it made Jungkook chuckle.

“Is that so, mon petit chou? Well I’m glad you feel the same way.” He cooed, pulling you into another kiss.

The rest of the night was a blur, nothing further than a few kisses here and there, but nonetheless, a night that turned bad events into things that made you smile instead.

--

“You know how I call you mon petit chou?” Jungkook was currently hunched over the worktable, carefully peeling away the chocolate decorations from the parchment paper. Since it was the holiday season, you two had gotten a sudden influx of requests for yule log roll cakes (“that’s not all we make, but they always ask us to make it!”). Jungkook’s friend, Jung Hoseok had also requested for one, but specifically requested for you to make it, despite Jungkook’s protests that he made roll cakes much better than you.

You perked up at his voice, setting down the whipping cream that you were weighing out for the filling of the roll. “Yeah, I thought you just wanted to call me a little cabbage because of how short I was.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the absurd term of endearment. You heard Jungkook’s soft laugh as you poured the whipping cream into the stand mixer.

“No no, not chou as in cabbage, babe. Mon petit chou means my little cream puff. Your favorite dessert are cream puffs, aren’t they?” He hummed, rearranging the chocolate he had just peeled away on the log he was finishing up. “Plus, you’re sweet. I thought it was fitting, and when I was in France, my host mom said I should only use that name with someone I love. And I love, well, you!” He grinned, a light dust of pink on his face.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he explained the nickname, covering your mouth from smiling too much.

“Jeon, you better get back to work before I kick your derrière.”

[campbowie-blog]

So obviously abortion has been the hottest topic of discussion after the Supreme Court decision.

But I need to talk for a minute about New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen.Bruening. This case was over whether states with strict limits on carrying guns in public violated first amendment rights. In New York, this meant that they required applicants for a concealed carry permit to show proper cause (i.e. a person who had reason to fear for their own safety).

I'm from a state where guns are very common. Gun laws are lax (in 2021 a law was passed allowing anyone over 21 to open carry or concealed carry -- eliminating the previous requirement to have a license to carry). My current state allowed open carry, but THIS MONTH passed a law allowing anyone over 21 to concealed carry -- and they no longer have to inform police officers if they have a weapon on them.

I also worked in retail for about 10 years. In those 10 years, I've seen 2 separate instances where a customer LEFT THEIR GUN IN THE BATHROOM. I've seen a SM (in a company that DID NOT allow guns on the premises) allow a customer to keep their gun on them if they pulled their shirt over it. I've seen a customer shoot themself in the leg, in the bathroom, by shoving it in their waistband. (I do not have a gun I do not want a gun I do not want guns around me, but rule 1 is treat every gun as if it's loaded, rule 2 is only point if you intend to fire, rule 3 MAKE SURE THE SAFETY IS ON.)

I do not trust people to be responsible with guns. I do not trust them to follow rules. In my time working at Toys R Us, I saw two separate times when customers ignored the sign posted at every entrance that guns were not allowed inside. Once was when the manager told him to cover it. The other time...

Christmas in retail. It's already insane. Friday/Saturday night (I honestly don't remember which) at a *MASSIVE* toy store? A madhouse. I returned from my meal break when it was dark outside, and my (different) manager pulled me into the office. He told me quietly that a customer had left his gun on the sink in the bathroom -- and when he realized and went back for it, it was gone.

The police were on their way, but he asked if I would walk the store calmly and keep an eye out for it. For a ton of safety and liability reasons, Toys R Us didn't sell realistic looking guns. It would have been apparent if I spotted someone with an actual gun.

So I walked around. I made several passes, and didn't see anyone with it or another gun. And the people I was checking more closely? The kids.

It was terrifying. It was a time when store managers with the same company had been shot at through the doors for refusing to open. What if I did see it? What if a kid had found it in the bathroom and taken it? What if an adult had found it and was still in the store? I hoped more than anything that whoever had taken it had immediately left the store.

That was the most awful incident, to me. The other person who left their gun in the bathroom called minutes before we closed, and it was still there on the TP holder. The man who accidentally shot himself had only shot *himself*. I wasn't happy that my manager allowed the other guy to keep his gun instead of taking it to the car, but it happened.

That's only four times I know of, that I was at work, at one store at a time.

I do not trust people with guns. I do not trust them to follow laws. I do not trust them to follow rules of any establishment. I do not trust them to be responsible. I do not feel safe around anyone with a gun. If I see someone with a gun when I'm eating out (pre-2020) I am very aware of them and all those idiots carrying rifles and high powered military weapons everywhere did not help.

The Supreme Court apparently doesn't feel anyone in the United States should feel safe anymore. Neither should they.

[zenyattayatta]

First off, I have been in love with your stories for a long time ^_^ I was wondering if maybe you could do a Werewolf!Blackwatch McCree fic? I've been very low lately. Fluff? Please and thank you. ^w^

A/N: Hi, i really love werewolf mccree.

If it was one thing you knew, it was that Jesse McCree as avery affectionate man. It was often a trait that ran through werewolves and packsalike. The strong need for close friendships and even closer relationshipsbuilt within their customs.

With your permission, he had made it a point to touch, hug and kiss youevery moment he got. So, it wasn’t much a surprise when his hands wrappedaround your waist as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck frombehind. You were still on the clock. Quite frankly, in the middle of being onyour way to tend to a complain you had gotten in one of the smaller divisionsbelow your rank. Yet, your werewolf boyfriend was making very difficult to go about that at the moment.

“Good mornin’, Doll.”His beard, although neatly trimmed as to regulation, tickled at your face themore he snuggled into you. 

“Jesse.” You huffed while fighting against his strong grip.He merely chuckled as you attempt fell short, the werewolf’s tail wagginghappily in the process.

“I was looking for you.” He smirks, loosening his hold.

“Yes, well, you’ve found me!” You finally manage to squirmfrom his grasp before he rubs a cheek upon your neck tenderly. You pause. “JesseMcCree are you scenting me?” The accusation sends him reeling back.

He pouts, his wagging tail falters as the ears upon his headfall to touch his scalp. “You smell like the other wolfmen around here.”

“McCree, it’s my job to work with them.” You deadpan, hisfingers grip lightly at your waist. You lightly pat his hands reassuringly. “Ismell like everyone.”

“But I want you to smell like me.” He retorts with an exaggeratedpout.

You chuckle. “Now you’re just being unreasonable.”

His pout turns into a smile and he laughs along with you. Yourun hand through his hair his gone as his fluffy pointed ears protrude from thetop of his head. Your hand stops to rub. “When was the last time you transformed?”

His shoulders jut up, a clear sign that he enjoys yourtouch. “Not sure.” He mumbles as his eyes fall closed and his head tilts moreinto your hand. Now, you frown.

“Jesse, you know you need to wolf out occasionally.” Yourvoice switches back into that of a professional. The tone calling him to takeyou seriously. “If you don’t it can have repercussions on your body. You mighthave problems shifting voluntarily back and forth.”

He pulls you back into him. His chin resting upon your head.“I ‘ppreciate the concern, darlin’. But, I’m sure as heck I’ll be alright.” Hedigs his nose into your scalp before you swat him away.

“McCree…” You warn.

“I’ll be fine.” He pulls back to look at you. “What don’tyou like me when I’m a little extra hairy?”

He chuckles when you roll your eyes at his banter. His gripon you going lax enough for you to finally pull away. He kisses your foreheadand you return it with a peck on his lips.

“I need go check in on the siren division now or else Reyeswill make an ordeal.” Your gaze is directed to him. “Please try and stay out oftrouble in the meantime.”

“No promises.” He winks. “See ya later, pumpkin.”

“See you later, Wolfboy.”

The moment you enter your dorm you know something is off. Immediately,it falls upon the mere mass that encompasses the entirety of the empty space inyour small dorm.

His shirt is torn to pieces as it hangs in rips off thislarge body. A bundle of brown and black fur protruding from the holes. His headis facing downward with his tail tucked between his legs and chocolate eyesavoiding your gaze. McCree shuffles awkwardly in the middle of the room. Hewhines, feeling as if you’ll be upset given that a giant wolfdog cowers in yourdorm room.

“I’m not mad.” You sigh, placing your keys down. “But, I didtell you if you didn’t transform frequently your instincts would kick in.” Hegives a weak grumble of sounds. He trots up to you, slowly as if treading ondangerous territory. He whines again as he stops mere feet away.

“I’m not mad, Jess. I promise.” You lift a hand to pat athis head, the werewolf merely juts his bottom lip out. The pout looks humorousin this form enough to make you laugh. “Let me get comfortable and we can waitout the reversion back together.” You say while carding a hand through therough hair down his neck. He merely sighs, relishing in your touch.

Jesse turns back and adjust himself at the front edge ofyour bed. His body curls in while he watches you go about getting out of youruniform. He releases a good-natured howl when your shirt and pants godiscarded. You merely shoot him a look before putting on a pair of sweats and ashirt.

He waits patiently and warmly invites you to snuggle againsthim. Jesse wraps his body around you as you lean back on his abdomen. The TVswitches on and he shoves away your hands to place his head upon your lap. Thewerewolf rather pleased when you begin to pet him.The wag of his fluffy tail hittingthe floor and bed with a thunk.

“Spoiled dog.” You tease to which he merely growls at.

There’s a tranquil air as you both lay against the bed, theTV playing whatever seemed to interest you both. You poke at his nose when hiseyes begin to fall down. The other hand that brushed his hair pausing when blinksback to you. McCree grunts happily before lifting his head to yours. His muzzlecomes to rest below your nose and you gladly nuzzle into him. His whiskers tickleyour cheeks as he rubs his face affectionately to yours.

Jesse makes various noises before you kiss the soft hairs ofhis cheek. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.” Your voice is soft as you pat hishead once more.

He gives you something along the lines of a pleased barkwhich makes you chuckle. With a long lick of your cheek, he settles his headback onto your lap. A relaxed sigh racks his body as it melts around yours.McCree smiles inwardly to himself.

Now, you’ll definitely smell like him.

[technoplaguearchive]

Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away!

Tagged by: @kunoichi-ume​ (well this will be fun... I have been drinking & I am 100% feeling Kelan right now; drunk Mandalorian)

CHARACTER: Kelan Dorne

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS: honor, protectiveness, sass, sarcasm, stupidly sentimental, cocky

COLORS: green & silver, occasionally white (or as white as he can keep something, it’s usually dirty-white)

SCENTS: leather, “something metallic” (no one has figured out what the exact scent is though), detonator smoke

CLOTHING: armor, sleeveless tunics/shirts, boots, “sinfully tight pants” (according to Pax and Atlis)... does dirt count as clothing?

OBJECTS: dual custom blasters, bandoleer of explosives, distinctive green helmet with flares

VICES/BAD HABITS: overuse of Mando’a with people who don’t speak it, drinking, overly protective/territorial,  short temper, holds grudges over small stuff, curses a lot (usually in Mando’a, sometimes in Basic), sleeps in late during critical missions, flippant when mad/upset/annoyed

BODY LANGUAGE: arms over chest almost always, lax posture if not on a job, head tilts to the left when amused/humoring someone, walks like he’s always on the hunt, almost permanent RBF under the helmet

AESTHETICS: flirting when he shouldn’t, drinking on his off time, antagonizing Pax for the hell of it, reading the latest news, trying to perfect shooting while hanging upside down, teaching Atlis to curse in Mando’a

SONGS: (Music and defining lyrics)

Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy

Anything you say can and will be held against you So only say my name

If heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain Then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (I know I’m bad news) For just one yesterday (I saved it all for you) I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way Still I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (I know I’m bad news) For just one yesterday (I saved it all for you) For just one yesterday

Letting people down is my thing baby Find yourself a new gig This town ain’t big enough for two of us I don’t have the right name Or the right looks But I have twice the heart

There’s only the one song, I’ve never put much thought into songs for him. There’s a list for Lis though)

Tagging: @salaciouscrumpet, @rae-tan, @shimmersing if you guys want to/haven’t done it yet <3

[loveinthebones]

can’t you see i’m falling apart, love (want to fall together?)

Word count: ~9, 878

Chapter Summary: Dan is learning more about Phil as time goes on.

Read it on AO3

Check out the art and the artist for this!

Also our lovely beta.

Part Three: Anger, second act (Dan) 

Dan found himself drawn to the golden van more often than not.

It had started out as a bit of playful revenge for Phil’s knowing arched brow when he passed through after the meetings that seemed to come all at once but it turned into something else when the little tradition of Dan getting a single flower from Phil had started...

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan told Phil, lounging in the space of the open door of Phil’s van with his chin pressed into his chest as he looked at his phone. Phil had on a faded apron that nearly matched his vehicle perfectly. It was dusted with soil and...an array of different stains. Dan was pretty sure that the majority of them were coffee but one blob resembled the stain on a shirt he had lost to a mishap at his first YouTube get together involving too much red wine.

(He had left shortly after to lay across a fountain with still warm stone as he tried to keep the crisps and pizza from earlier in the night from making a reappearance. It had been one of the moments he had felt most isolated.)

“Hm?” Phil grunted from where he sat on the floor, legs wrapped carefully around the pot he had cracked as he filled a replacement with fresh dirt to transfer the poor succulent. “What was that?”

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan repeated, tapping on his screen to like the post on his dashboard. “For when I might really need it.”

“That’s fine.” Phil clicked his tongue before murmuring, “I’m really sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean to drop you. I’m going to leave you in the nicest ray of sun I can. I’ll even move Thor.”

Dan blinked before he lowered his phone to his chest to take in the smooth, sturdy movements as Phil worked. He couldn’t help himself.

“You name your plants?”

“Yeah?” Phil craned his neck to squint at Dan, swiping his gloved hand across his cheek where a bead of sweat was making his skin tickle. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Some people do, I guess, but Susan? Really?”

“It’s a good name! A strong name!”

“There are better names.” Dan rolled his eyes and yelped when something crashed against his cheek. He glanced down to the motionless glove in his lap and then to Phil who had gone back to moving Susan to her new home without mentioning his hand nudity.

“You rat,” Dan growled without a hint of heat, picking up the offending article to flop it back and forth in the other’s direction. “I should keep this.”

“Please, don’t.” Phil told him, relaxed and not worried about the potential hostage situation at hand. “I do like these gloves, you know. How about we trade? A flower for a glove?”

Dan took a moment to seem like he was giving Phil’s solution great thought- bringing his temporary prisoner under his chin as he cupped his jaw, tossing it from hand to hand- until Phil lobbed a handful of dirt in his direction with slight force.

It fell short, of course, but that was enough for Dan to grin and lean back. “Alright.”

So Dan returned from his visits from Phil with a different flower clutched in his hand each time. He would give them to Ruthie who was both delighted and amused by the sudden influx of surprise flora. She had taken to putting them in small glasses of water, dotting them around the apartment, and soaking in his misery when he inevitably was mopping up water from their carpet with incoherent noises of displeasure.

@RuthineHayes tweeted: @danisnotonfire is having a hard time with the peony. (Cry laughing emoji)(Water droplets emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 3:17pm

@danisnotonfire replied: @RuthineHayes if SOMEBODY would stop leaving them where i move the tripod. that would be great. (Eyes emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 7:48pm

The little incidents gave Dan another reason to go visit Phil and tell him what havoc his flowers were wreaking on his existence (with Phil reminding him that he could refuse the flowers which usually ended with Dan scoffing and leaving with another) and somehow, the conversations drifted into ever evolving topics. They could be arguing about which was better: hot chocolate or coffee? and end on what type of Pokemon they would specialize in if they were gym leaders.

Dan was convinced that Phil would fill the role of a grass/poison trainer but Phil was adamant that he leant towards fire with his soft spot for Growlithe and Houndour. Phil surprised him by placing him as a psychic leaning trainer, and Dan couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

Sadly, it seemed like there was always a constant flow of people to Phil’s van so they didn’t get to talk as much as Dan would like. He should be astonished at the traffic for Phil’s little business but he wasn’t-not really. Phil made it a point to talk with every customer and help them leave just a smidge happier than before. It was hard to resist the embodiment of sunshine, Dan mused, and he couldn’t blame those that returned to get a bit of Phil’s personal brand of comfortable heat.

Dan was guilty as well. Who was he to judge?

-

It was one of those days in London where the wind nipped at places where your skin was exposed and brought a rosy glow to the surface. The leaves in the trees rustled, and Dan had his hands curled into the sleeves of his black jumper, shivering slightly as Phil sat in a chair with his leg crossed on his knee to prop up the thick book he was reading.

Phil had his left hand in the pouch of the green hoodie he was wearing while his right flipped the pages contentedly.

There hadn’t been anyone by in a while, and Dan was starting to twitch with restless energy and the urge to move about to shake off the slight chill. He let his gaze wander around the sparse set up of Phil’s greenery before letting himself tip back to peek behind the passenger seat where he had been sitting. There were towels thrown over some of the pots and Dan had to smile at the fuzzy maroon blanket wrapped around Loki’s small pot lovingly.

It seemed Phil had been worried about his “babies” and had decided to keep them protected in their home.

“Phil?” Dan called and pouted when Phil held up a single finger, mouthing silent words as he read. “Phiiiil.”

“Yes, Danny-” Phil began, eyes still roving across the printed text before he blinked. Dan caught a flash of pink as Phil licked his lips. “-Dan. Yes, Dan?”

“Did you just call me Danny?” He couldn’t keep the affectionate incredulousness from seeping into the words falling into the air between them even as he squeezed his brows closer together and stretched back over the center console because he knew it irritated Phil. “Don’t call me that, Philly.” He threw back saucily, reaching down for the small black drawstring bag he had taken to carrying.

Phil raised an eyebrow but still didn’t turn his head, determined to finish the page he was having to re-read as he wondered why Dan was such a distraction. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

“I’m bored!” Dan groused as his fingers closed around the sleek black camera, glancing at Phil. He pressed the button and drummed his thumbs on screen in an uneven rhythm.

How long has it been since I’ve done a vlog?

Dan’s eyes became slits as he shifted through his memory- rifling through abandoned script ideas, videos that he had chosen to keep private after he uploaded them, and the running list of titles-before he remembered. The last vlog had been when Peej was leaving for his shoot and they had spent the day together wandering around the city, rummaging through thrift shops and antique stores for props.

Has it really been that long? Jeeze.

He pressed the record button without thinking, rolling his shoulders, before pointing it at his face and stating, “Edit this out.” before moving the focus to Phil who was unaware of the camera before clearing his throat.

Phil canted his head toward him, folding the corner of the page deftly as he did, and Dan watched as he placed both feet on the ground. His face morphed into an almost instantaneous grin as he realized he was being recorded.

Has he been on camera before? That is...remarkable.

It was also slightly worrying and Dan lowered the camera so the lens rested on his knee lightly, darkening the footage to black.

“That was...really creepy,” Dan acknowledged with a wince. “Sorry- I was thinking of filming a vlog and-” He was probably digging himself a bigger hole, and his words sped up with the guilt of filming Phil without his prior consent and...the way his whole demeanor had shifted with ease. “Would you like to be in it? You can say no.”

Phil’s expression went lax with a less pronounced but relieved upward turn of his lips and the muscles around his eyes smoothed out as he let himself slant back against the chair. He didn’t seem irked by Dan’s misstep with his arms having moved behind his head, making his chest more prominent, and the fact that he was sticking out his tongue at him.

“You worry too much, Danny,” Phil surmised before continuing in a supportive intonation: “I know it was playful. I can hear! I have ears!” He reached to pull them out and wiggle them for emphasis.

Dan shielded his face with his free sweater paw and groaned, a single chuckle escaping from him.

“I don’t know you.”

“Well, then…” Phil lamented with a deep put-upon sigh, letting his hands fall to his lap. “I guess that me agreeing to be in your vlog doesn’t matter then?”

Dan was glad his face was covered as he felt his pulse quicken at Phil wanting to be in his vlog. There was a happy writhing feeling that seemed to leap from his chest to nestle itself at the base of his throat and he could feel his cheeks straining from how wide he was smiling.

He slid his hand down so it was only obscuring the lower half of his face. Phil was regarding him with half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Dan’s heart skipped a beat (literally). His hand fell away so he could jerk the camera back into focus and once again, Phil slipped into that shining, peppy persona flawlessly.

Dan scooted to the edge of the seat before settling his feet on the ground and standing slowly, swivelling the camera’s lens to his face and giving his two finger salute.

He had to step into his own...slightly different headspace but for a moment, his lips turned down as his eyes flicked to Phil and he bit his lip in concern before taking a breath to repeat the gesture he had been starting his videos off with since he had set up his YouTube channel.

“Hello Internet!”  Dan greeted before stepping away from the van and rotating slowly so that his fans would be able to analyze the background if they wished- making sure to catch the hand painted ‘Succulents’ sign, the purple cluster of verbenas on the top shelf before slowly making his way towards Phil. “If you have been following me on Twitter...you would know that my life has been overrun by flowers!” Dan wrinkled his nose slightly before he gave a quiet laugh.

Phil pressed his mouth into a thin line and raised his eyes toward the sky for a moment before pressing his lips outward in a face that resembled a squirrel about to eat a nut.

“I thought I would--” Dan’s sentence halted immediately as he caught sight of Phil. He coughed into his elbow and questioned in a strained voice, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Phil claimed with a soft clap before he waved his hands in a blur, palms out and fingers splayed. “Hi guys! How’s it been?”

Dan couldn’t help but feel like he sunk a bit deeper into the ever growing affection he had for the unpredictable florist but he gave an imperceptible swing of his head, reaching out to swat at Phil’s shoulder lightly. ��Hey! Don’t steal my spotlight, you spoon.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were on your game, Danny!”

Oh. Is it going to be like that? You’re on, Philly.

“Right, you are,” Dan agreed easily, pressing the camera closer to Phil so he could capture the brief moment of the other’s surprise: raised eyebrows, slightly bugged eyes. There was a rush of gleeful triumph before he waved a hand dismissively. “I thought everyone would like to meet the culprit. This is Phil, my amazing personal florist, who has also ruined my life.”

Dan extended his arm so he could get them both in frame and Phil stepped to the side to block him from view.

“Plant world domination should be happening any day now but shhh!” Phil pressed a single finger to his lips, looking furtively over his shoulder at Dan.

Holy shit. That smile. Is going to kill me.

Phil was facing the imaginary third audience with a conspiratorial: “But don’t tell Dan!” and Dan was fighting at the acute pang echoing through his chest. It reminded him of Ruth standing before him without any shred of clothing and adoration clear in the way she held herself under his own besotted gaze but this was...sharper. It was nearly painful with its intensity and Dan fought to keep his eyes from stinging with the threat of tears.

“You need to be careful, Dan.”

“What?” Dan paused with the spatula raised to flip over the ham and cheese sandwich that was being grilled in the skillet.

“I…” Sophie tried uncertainly before she took a deep breath. “You talk about this Phil guy like you talk about Ruth.”

“He’s becoming a really good friend.” The words sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Dan…” That single syllable held a note of despondency and a large amount of concern. He could hear Sophie pulling out a chair. “Peej will let you do your thing. He’s a big believer in making your own mistakes and figuring out who you are through those. But..” Sophie paused before she hit him with a calm question to shatter the shaky contentedness his mind had settled into. “I have to ask...are you gay?”

The pungent aroma of the charring bread didn’t reach him as he dropped the spatula. His knees buckled and he caught himself on the counter.

Was he gay?

He had figured out that he had a crush on Phil but he had definitely felt the same...symptoms...for Ruthie. The jumps in heartbeat, craving being in her presence, and the fascination with lips…

Pale smooth lips with a tongue poking out. Pinker, heart shaped lips that always had the form of a smile.

“No...I’m not gay.” Dan choked out, and he heard Sophie let out a hefty sigh. His mouth was dry and as he hastily flicked the burner off, he came to a realization:

He wasn’t gay but that didn’t mean he was straight.

So why didn’t he say that out loud then?

“Ah!” Dan squawked as his cheek was smacked faintly, flinching away from the impact before leaning into the weight still present without thinking about it. Phil had sucked in his bottom lip between his front teeth and that’s when Dan realized he was using the man’s palm as a pillow of a sorts. His cheeks seared with a familiar heat. “I’m sorry--what?”

“Are you okay?”

Phil...Phil was absolutely mind-blankingly, disarmingly…

Standing so close, Dan felt Phil’s breath fanning across his cheeks and he also felt the sheer craving to shuffle closer clawing at his rib cage.

Dan recoiled, taking a step back and gave a false, jagged titter.

“Of course.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue but he let it slither past his lips before aiming the camera that he had dropped to his side on Phil. “Come on, Phil! The people want a promo!”

Don’t focus on me. Please.

Let me be danisnotonfire for now. Not Dan Howell who isn’t gay or straight and falling for a boy with a heart of a lion.

“Er…” Phil was quick to regain his composure, glancing at his hand for a millisecond before dropping it and his line of sight to the floor timidly. “I’m not really good at those but,” Phil showed some teeth but his tongue was safely hidden as he winked. “I am Phil Lester and this is my flower truck- An Array of Sunshine!”

“That...just…” Dan couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as he gave Phil an offended look. “No.”

“I didn’t come up with it!” Phil defended indignantly, holding Dan captive as he turned his head towards him. “Martyn did!”

“Martyn?”

“My brother. He actually runs the website that we take deliveries from…” Phil reached up to knead the back of his neck. “I should probably mention that…”

“Link will be in the descrizzle,” Dan chimed in and pointed downwards where the perimeter of the video would be before he addressed Phil in his calmer speaking voice. “Is it a traditional website?”

“I have one, yes. There’s also a Twitter.” Phil’s eyes skittered away from his, tightening his grip on the nape of his neck before releasing his hold. Dan saw his eyes darken before Phil was dazzling the camera once more. “You guys can check out the Twitter if you want but it’s pretty inactive…” Phil’s frame was quaking- lips jumping with the effort to not peel back and expose his teeth- before he finished his thought: “The handle is @pocketPHIL-” At this point, he swept his hand down his torso. “-ofsunshine.”

“You DID NOT…” Dan angled his chin up slightly so he could jut it out in disbelief.

“I didn’t.” Phil confirmed in a voice so muted and small that it reminded Dan of stardust drifting in the abyss of space. “My partner did.”

Phil laughed but, somehow, it sounded wrong in Dan’s ears. It sounded like giggling even though his lungs were begging for air as he sprawled on the carpet with the light off. It sounded like the slam of the door as he stood in his dorm for the first time with the silence ringing in his ears and homesickness already sitting heavy in his stomach.

Phil has a partner? I thought the business was just his?

It sounded like a human puzzle barely holding the pieces of themselves together.

Dan’s lips separated.

“Hi?” A hushed, apprehensive voice cut in hesitantly, and Dan watched the girl sway from side to side from where she was standing at the table set up next to the van, on the right most side from where they were standing. “I don’t mean to interrupt…” She reached up to swipe a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.

“You’re fine,” Phil rushed to alleviate the girl’s nervousness. “How may I help you?” He moved fluidly around Dan, brushing his fingertips across his upper arm as he passed, so he could help the newcomer.

“You aren’t interrupting anything,” Dan added, ignoring the goosebumps prickling under his jumper at the simple touch. He lifted his camera and jostled it up and down. “I’m just making a video.”

“I know.” The girl spoke, and Dan watched as her cheeks started to flush as she took a sharp breath. “I watch your videos.”

“Oh,” Dan exclaimed in a pleasantly surprised gasp before briefly catching a glimpse of the girl’s face in the shot. “I’m meeting one of you guys! Hold on.” Dan’s thumb flicked the button to stop recording before he made his way over to Phil and the girl, laying his equipment carelessly on the low shelf he passed.

The girl was wringing her hands, eyes darting from Dan to the ground, as the freckles dotted across her cheeks stood out from her tomato red face.

“It’s okay.” Phil giggled lowly, drawing closer to the girl.“What’s your name?”

“Sofie.”

“Sofie,” Phil was properly bubbling over with merriment now as he placed a hand on Sofie’s shoulder with a nearly weightless pressure. “Do you like Pokémon?”

Sofie’s head was level with Phil’s jaw, and he curled his shoulders to bring himself a bit lower and Dan rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. Sofie was looking at Phil with round blue eyes, swallowing, before she answered:

“Er...yes?”

“Great!” Phil cheered, removing his hand from her shoulder to point at Dan. “What type of Pokémon trainer do you think Dan would be?”

This is going to become a thing, isn’t it?

Dan loosely folded his arms across his chest to let out a puff of air, swivelling his head, as he dipped his chin slightly with an indulgent half-smile.

I see what you’re doing. You can’t just woo the people coming to see us.

Sofie hummed thoughtfully, popping out a hip as she drummed her fingers on her chin. “I mean... it depends?” She paused and Dan shot her what he hoped was a smile that would nudge her to say what was on her mind. It seemed to work, and Sofie continued, “Well… I would think dark because of your...uh…” Sofie waved at him inarticulately, even more color flooding her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Dan encouraged, amused. “You can say it’s because I dress like death. I’m sure Ruthie would agree with you.”

Sofie sniggered, finally seeming to relax as she nodded, “I wouldn’t say it like that...how is Ruth?”

Phil flattened his lips before his tongue darted out to swipe across his top lip as Dan rocked back on his heels, a gentle “Mmm…” tumbling from his throat as the corners of his lips lifted.

“She’s good,” Dan answered, grinning at Sofie teasingly. “She has some news for you guys, but I can’t tell.”

Sofie’s cheeks were straining from how wide she was smiling, and she bounced on her toes before blurting out: “What is it?”

“All I can say is check Twitter.” Dan lowered one eyelid in a cheeky wink. His easy-going image slipped as Phil withdrew from Sofie’s side to adjust a pot of yellow clusters of star-shaped flowers.

“I will!” Sofie bubbled before she curled her fist loosely to hit her palm. “Fire.”

“What?” That outburst had caught Phil’s attention, and he let his arms fall from where he had been reaching to grab a wide, stout cactus to echo Dan’s single word of surprise in unison with the other.

“I was thinking that Dan might be a fire type trainer. Perhaps, with a specialized dark moveset?” Sofie fingers uncurled before circling her chin as her other arm came across her stomach. “You seem protective so you could have a team with a high defense and a beast like Chandelure.”

“I can see that,” Phil prattled as he retraced the small distance he had travelled away from Sofie and Dan. “He could have an Arcanine. It’s a bulky supporter. Though,” Phil frowned slightly. “I had pictured him as a psychic trainer.”

“That’s not something I had considered,” Sofie acknowledged Phil’s typing with a contemplative squint, nibbling on her lip. “It’s possible.”

A series of chirps interrupted their conversation, and Sofie coughed as her cheeks grew hotter once more. She reached into her pocket and glanced at the mobile briefly before sighing and muttering,

“What horrible timing.” before raising her voice to an audible level with a disappointed sigh: “I got to go…”

“That’s okay,” Phil comforted before offering kindly, “You can stop by anytime, Sofie.” Phil pointed to Dan, eyes seeming to glow as he stage whispered: “I’m sure Dan needs a hug.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Phil good-naturedly before nodding at Sofie who froze at the suggestion, letting her slowly tread into his open arms with a springy step. He chuckled as he hugged her a bit tighter. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for stopping by.”

Phil reached for Dan’s abandoned camera, and if you asked Dan later, he would almost swear that there was a tentative gossamer of tenderness swimming in those eyes as the equipment was carried with diligent care to the passenger seat.

(Or maybe he was projecting. Just a tiny bit.)

-

@danisnotonfire tweeted: i know i know i promised a video on friday. i’m working on it! here’s something: check out @pocketPHILofsunshine for your flowery needs.

October 7 3:27pm

@crabstickz retweeted: @danisnotonfire @pocketPHILofsunshine Eyyy. Getting that promo huh? Does this mean you will be online more? Can we collab?!

October 7 9:13pm

@LouisePentland retweeted: @pocketPHILofsunshine @danisnotonfire Definitely jumping on this train. Perhaps you recognize this face everyone?

October 8 8:04am

@RuthineHayes retweeted: Thank you @pocketPHILofsunshine… our carpet has never been more wet since the flowers have arrived.

October 8 11:11am

-

“I hate you.” is the greeting Dan gets the next day when he strolls up to where Phil is laying on his back, panting. His arms are streaked with dirt, and his chest is rising and falling with exertion as he smears away the sweat that has made its way past his headband.

“Because I’m late?” Dan dropped next to Phil to sit beside him, stretching his legs out.

“That and…” Phil wheezed, tapping his pocket where Dan could make out the edges of his phone. “Do you know what kind of uproar your tweet caused? I’ve gotten phone calls from at least seven people about it.”

“I thought promos were a good thing?” Dan murmured, kicking his heels slowly, watching the dirt shift under the sole of his shoe and travel up the sides. “I can delete it if you want?”

He doesn’t confess: I wanted to show people what they are missing. You should be noticed.

“Nah.” Phil’s fingers prodded his thigh lightly since he hadn’t moved from his position. “It’s fine. The last tweet on that account was a while back though.”

“Was it?” Dan hadn’t gotten a chance to browse the account but he made a mental note to do so when he returned home.

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled, eyelashes dark against his pale skin as he closed his eyes.

They sat in a comfortable silence as Phil’s breath evolved from harsh, whistling gasps to an even, steady flow. Dan pulled his left knee up to wrap his arms around it, taking in how the leaves of the plants adjusted to the changes in the wind and the crunching of fallen leaves as a jogger passed them by.

“I feel like an idiot.” Dan began with a hint of wry humor, and Phil’s eyelids raised unhurriedly.

“Why?”

“I didn’t realize that when you talked about Louise and Chris that you meant Sprinkle of Glitter and Crabstickz.”

“Oh. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all but…”

There was another moment of silence but this one wobbled heavily on their shoulders. Dan brought his other knee up to support his chin. He could still feel the slight pressure of Phil’s fingertips through his jeans, heating up his skin.

Why do you look so tired, Phil?

Are you tired?

Dan couldn’t speak through the nervous lump in his throat.

“Phil...why haven’t you tweeted in awhile?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

Dan can’t explain the emptiness echoing in the chambers of his heart as Phil’s fingers leave their spot on his thigh...all he knows is that it hurts.

-

He checks @pocketPHILofsunshine later that night.

@pocketPHILofsunshine tweeted: The flower truck is up and moving again but back in London indefinitely!

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah replied: Aw! Sorry to see you go. Will you ever come back to Luxembourg?

2 years ago

@pocketPHILofsunshine replied: I will make trips up there periodically but not sure if I’ll be taking orders when I am up there.

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah: I understand. Give yourself time and space. Take care of yourself.

2 years ago

Dan brings a hand to clutch at the front of his dark shirt as he lets out a strangled whimper.

What happened to Phil two years ago?

-

They don’t talk about it.

Dan doesn’t ask even as the words throw themselves against his teeth because he knows that Phil doesn’t want to and he’s scared, if he’s being honest.

Phil doesn’t bat an eye.

He still smiles at Dan when he trudges up the path at seven in the morning but there’s a light shadow of purple under his muddy watercolour eyes. It takes Dan going straight to the mixed Zinnias and toppling over their huge pot, spilling a good amount of soil, for Phil to let out the softest of laughs as he hands Dan his gloves.

“We need to put this soil back and make them more comfortable.”

-

His hand had just gotten to the uncomfortable side of warm as he handed Phil the Starbucks cup. Phil immediately encircled it with both hands and a deep contented noise. Dan raised his own cup to his lips before gagging on the coffee as Phil wedged his nose between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Dan? Are you okay?” Phil set his untouched pumpkin spiced latte on the table before slapping Dan on the back in short bursts. “Does your coffee not taste good?”

“What the actual fuck, Phil?” Dan choked, the honeyed scent of caramel clinging to his nose. His eyes were watering but he had managed to not drop his caramel macchiato.  

Thank you for small miracles.

“What?” Phil inquired, clueless to his part in Dan’s near death experience.

“Why would you…” Dan spulttered. He mimicked Phil’s earlier actions, pressing his own nose between his fingers.

“My nose was cold!” Phil defended immediately, his hand leaving Dan’s back to push against his side playfully. “And,” He scooped his cup up to take a deep breath from the small slit for sipping. “It smells like fall.”

“It’s November,” Dan scoffed, nudging Phil’s ankle half-heartedly with the front of his shoe. “I think it’s safe to say that it’s fall.” He swirled his drink absentmindedly.

“What did you get?” Phil pushed his head against Dan’s arm to sniff at his coffee like a curious puppy before his tongue made its appearance with his gleeful, “Nevermind! I know!” He swiped the paper fiber and polyethylene receptacle from Dan’s grip to replace it with his own. “C’mon, Dan. It’s the festive season- try something new!”

Dan regarded the latte with an exaggerated lift to his upper lip and wrinkles screwing up his nose as he sniffed at it with mock unease.

The apples of Phil’s cheeks hoisted higher even as he attempted to shoot Dan an unimpressed look.

He failed but Dan squeaked as Phil’s lips touched his caramel macchiato, tipping his head back to take a mouthful.

“Hey!”

Phil smacked his lips together before remarking, “You can’t go wrong with a Caramel Macchiato.”

Dan observed the way Phil’s eyebrows arched in a silent challenge, and he didn’t break eye contact as he took a swig of the Pumpkin Spice latte. It skated across his tastebuds pleasantly and Dan let out a moan of appreciation.

A tinge that resembled the carnations Phil had been talking to before their coffee break dusted the tips of his ears and across the arch of his cheeks.

“Da--”

“Lester? Is that you?”

Phil straightened immediately, a tiny, strained smile marring his lips, as he turned to face the owner of the raucous, husky voice. He tightened his grip on Dan’s drink before his feet started to move to the man with flaxen hair and sharp grey eyes.

“Alex?” Phil breathed, and Dan’s nails dug into his palm at the unguarded, bewildered confusion in those eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I agreed to help with one of the animal hospitals in London. Apparently, their nurse bailed because of some personal issues,” Alex informed Phil, and Dan felt his blood start to rush through his veins faster as Phil was clapped on the shoulder none too gently. Dan fought to keep his expression in a semblance of friendliness as those eyes scanned him up and down. “I saw that the Twitter was more active. I didn’t think you would take that up- you being more interested in videos and all.”

“I am friends with YouTubers.” Phil’s voice was unbending with unrepentance even as he regarded Alex with mild exasperation. “I have been in several of their videos. You know that.”

“I do.” There was something to the saccharine tone that had Dan’s jaw clenching, and he made his way closer, stopping at the table where the metal box that served as Phil’s cash holder rested. Alex crossed an arm across his chest to rub at his left shoulder. “I never understood why Aiden encouraged you to be in those.”

Phil’s head jerked back as if he had been slapped, teeth clicking harshly as they came together.

Dan let Phil’s drink tumble from his hand, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. He ignored the liquid travelling across the wood as he took a step forward.

I won’t let you hurt him. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.

“Aiden always said, ‘You’re an entertainer.’-” Phil lowered his face, neck exposed to Alex’s gaze, and Dan could see the way the words were wrenched from a place that was hidden from his own eyes (and oh, how that made the stone walls of his heart crumble and disintegrate to dust). “He wanted me to take opportunities that I wouldn’t otherwise. Remember how he gave me a lap dance for my twenty-first? Even though he was already feeling the effects?”

“He fell on you and laughed it off…” Alex squeezed his shoulder tighter and he let out a ghost of a laugh- brittle and acidic. “You were buzzing but you were still fussing over him and oh, you guys were gross-”

The water streaming down Alex’s face took Dan by surprise and stilled the slow advancement that he had been making, but what threw him off-kilter was Phil’s consoling smile and outstretched arms.

He hurt you. Don’t let him close to you.

I will protect you.

Alex rushed to take solace in Phil’s tight hug and there was smoke climbing up his esophagus and he was being smothered and-

Dan came to himself as he knocked Alex away and wedged himself between the two men with a dangerously sonorous and scathing, “You don’t get to come here and hurt Phil and then have the audacity to hug him. Fuck off.”

Alex smeared the wetness on his cheeks with his palms as Dan’s eyes shot daggers at him. Cautious and curious calculating grey eyes darted to Phil who was wrapping his fingers around the fuming brunette’s bicep firmly.

“Daniel!” Phil snapped, tightening his grip as Dan spread his feet under Alex’s scrutiny. “Alexander is a friend of--”

“A friend, Phil? Really?” He spat, feeling his nails skim his palm as he flexed his fingers restlessly. “He comes here and--” Dan pushed forward as Alex slapped his palms against his trousers and pressed a tiny bit closer to Phil.

“Dan, I’m fine--”

“I have to say I’m impressed by your new boyfriend.” Alex’s eyes were somehow softer as he tilted his head where Phil was visible behind Dan’s shoulder. “Getting in a fight for you when he’s a public figure.”

Dan didn’t register the taunt for the light banter that it was, but his arm was suddenly not burdened by extra weight. He reared back at the assumption, a comfortable toastiness mingling with the whirlwind of rage scorching his blood.

I should tell him that we’re not together.

Ruth and I are…

Dan narrowed his eyes at Alex but his mouth remained stubbornly shut as his own mind rasped:

But you like that he assumed, don’t you?

“He’s not my boyfriend, Alex!” Phil exploded, manhandling Dan out of the way so he could properly glare at his friend. His shoulders squared as he smacked Alex roughly on his chest with an open palm. “You asshole!” The outrage in Phil’s voice was overshadowed by the way his voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against the back of his hand, breathing heavily.

“He’s not?” Alex’s palms hovered over Phil’s shaking shoulders before they landed and crushed Phil to him. “Shit. I…”

“...were meddling like you always do,” Phil sniffled, and Dan ached to reach out to pull him away into his own arms but he could do nothing as Alex let out a long, audible whoosh, making the hair pushed behind Phil’s ear ruffle. “I get it.”

“You don’t.”

Dan couldn’t stand by anymore and he marched over to Phil. The knitting of his jumper compressed as Dan’s palm came to rest just under his shoulder blades. He tapped his fingers in an idle pattern, starting to drag the flat of his hand across Phil’s spine, as Alex mumbled,

“You and Aiden were supposed to be the first ones married, you know? He’s supposed to be here with you, and Phil, it’s been three years but you still look like the week after-” Phil’s single, broken wail had Dan jumping and Alex tightening his hold. Dan pleaded with Alex silently to stop, please, please but the blonde gave a small shake of his head before continuing determinedly, “He would kill me if I didn’t check on you while I was in town but then- I saw you...you were laughing and sharing--”

“Stop.” Phil sobbed, struggling against Alex’s embrace and jostling Dan’s hand as he did so. “Please. I can’t--”

“Phil,” Alex shushed him softly, and he tugged Phil forward as he drug his feet back until Dan was no longer touching him. “I think we need to talk...seriously.” He pivoted and Dan was met with the back of Alex’s dark blue scrubs, gritting his teeth to keep the venomous insults from leaping from his tongue at the isolating gesture. “In private.”

“Alex, I really don’t want to close up shop,” Phil argued, clearing his throat to dislodge the mucus clogging his voice. “It can wait.”

“Like therapy?” Alex retorted and Phil retreated from his loosened grasp, using the sleeve of his jumper to wipe away the wetness under his nose. Phil’s cheeks were blotchy and his lashes glittered in the sunlight as he raked his fingers through his fringe.

“Alex, you are my friend,” Phil began, shrugging his shoulder to get rid of the trails of salt water on his cheeks, before he crossed his tense arms over his chest. “-but we are not discussing this now. I have to work.”

Alex mimicked Phil’s defensive posture as he sneered, “You’re as stubborn as always. It’s going to be your downfall.”

“Maybe so,” Phil conceded before his lips turned up in one corner in a mockery of his playful cheekiness. “It is good to see you. Really.”

Alex’s head bobbed once before he stomped away from their little standoff, thumping Phil once in the shoulder with a mild hand. Phil watched him go and Dan couldn’t keep his eyes off of Phil who waited until it was quiet enough to hear the birds chirping from a tree a bit further in the park and the distant laughter of the children on the playground before he sucked in air slowly through his nose.

Dan watched the way his chest rose with the action, how his eyes dimmed and flickered like a lightbulb about to go out, while Phil pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a long exhale. He seemed to deflate along with his lungs- shoulders jumping up to his ears, spine curving outwards so he didn’t take up as much space before he opened his mouth.

“Sorry about him,” Phil apologized sheepishly, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to make his fringe flop into its normal position. “Alex can be...intense.”

“It’s okay,” Dan reassured absentmindedly, tugging the cuffs of his jumper over his hands while he chewed his bottom lip. “I probably didn’t make the best first impression myself.”

“He means well,” Phil explained, twiddling his feet with jittery movements. “I’m sure he knows you did, too.”

Phil’s stuttering breaths mixed with the rustling of the wind and Dan shoved his covered hands deep in his jean pockets.

“Phil?”

“Dan?” Phil wasn’t looking at him, focusing on the way his feet drug through the dirt, how a tiny cloud of particles would pop up before raining on his shoes.

“Who’s Aiden?”

It took Phil a long moment to answer, burrowing his own hands in his trousers in that strange but endearing way Dan had noticed. His tongue swept across his lower lip before his warm breath ghosted over it in a sharp exhale.

“He was my boyfriend.”

“What happened to him?”

Dan’s heart thumped violently against the bones that encased it while the sound of his blood rushed through his ears. Phil didn’t say anything for many thundering, earth shattering heartbeats.

Phil lost the fight to keep himself together, bringing his palms to press against his cheeks as the curtain of salt water overlaying his irises overflowed once more. This wasn’t the body wracking sobs that Alex had caused with his visit but a soundless cry with droplets pooling in the crevices of his fingers.

“He died.” Phil couldn’t even muster the strength to fully engage his vocal cords but Dan heard.

Dan went to his florist, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

What can I possibly say to that?

What could anyone possibly say?

“Can I hug you?” Dan whispered and Phil nodded, head still buried in his hands.

It’s something at least.

Dan enveloped Phil. He circled his arms around Phil’s waist, pulling him as close to him as he possibly could. Phil let his hands drop to wind around Dan’s neck as if he was the only thing grounding him in this moment where he couldn’t force that glittering broken glass smile.

Dan could only hold on tighter as Phil hid his face in the juncture of his neck and cried those horrible silent tears, murmuring, “I’m here.” over and over again.

-

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Making an impromptu trip to Luxembourg. I will be taking a limited amount of deliveries. Should be back in London the first week of December

November 9 4:48am

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Check the website for more details and specific areas!  :)  (Link)

November 9 4:49am

-

From: Phil

Lou has been asking me for your number. Would you mind if I gave it to her?

November 11 2:21pm

From: Dan

what for?

November 11 2:25pm

From: Phil

She said something about a collab? I don’t know. She seems determined.

November 11 2:39pm

From: Dan

ooo i’m scared. go ahead.

November 11 2:43pm

From: Phil

I’ll tell her to be nice! Thanks Danny!

November 11 2:50pm

-

From: Louise

Daniel Howell.

November 12 8am

From: Dan

Hello to u too. some of us like to sleep until a decent hour.

November 12 1:17pm

From: Louise

Seriously? It’s the afternoon!

November 12 1:37pm

From: Dan

not for everyone. phil said u wanted to collab?

November 12 1:40pm

From: Louise

Actually, I would like to speak to you in person.

November 12 1:43pm

From: Dan

about what exactly?

November 12 2pm

From: Louise

Phil. It’s important.

November 12 2:01pm

From: Dan

when are u free?

November 12 2:02pm

-

“Dan, you’ll be fine.” Ruth assured him as they stood outside the glass doors of the London YouTube space. She had her pinkie hooked through his own loosely and Dan released it to take a shuddering breath, combing a few hairs of his fringe into place. “It’s not like she’s some shady serial killer, babe, seriously.”

“I know,” Dan groaned, turning to Ruthie. Her shoulder length hair had been swept into a brown clip primly, and her lips were painted a ruby red. Dan took a moment to take a breath before bumping the back of her hand with his. “It’s just nerve wracking. I stayed up to watch her videos to get a sense of how she is, but you can only see so much through a camera lens and a couple of minutes…”

“You said she wanted to collab with you- I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Ruth wrapped a hand around the upper portion of his arm to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Besides, I’m sure Phil is fine. She probably wants to see if you three can do a video together!”

“He died.”

Moisture coated his skin as Phil shivered in his embrace, and the pain of having an extensive vocabulary but with no words at his disposal to make the pain go away…

All Dan could do was sway as he held him and hope that it was helping. Even if it was an insignificant amount.

“I’m fine.” Phil lifted his head after a while with swollen eyes and snot slicked lips, and Dan had to sit there and watch as those eyes closed before, after a trembling breath, Phil gave him a tiny tremulous smile. “Sorry about your jumper.”

“...yeah,” Dan agreed, trying to hide his doubtfulness at Ruth’s reassurance. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Ruth’s fingers gave a gentle squeeze before she stepped back, straightening the cuffs of the grey pinstripe suit jacket she was wearing. She raised up finger guns and clicked her tongue as her heels clacked on the pavement noisily as she backed away from him.

“You’ll be fine!”

Dan smiled but his dimple was shallow and Ruth wiggled her fluttering fingers in a wave before she wheeled around to continue to the filming location she needed to be at.

Dan took a deep breath and rested his hand on the handle.

I can do this.

He opened the door and entered the lobby, relaxing slightly at the familiar atmosphere, as he made his way to the office spaces. Since it would only be him and Louise, it wouldn’t make sense to use one of the large conference rooms. The offices were smaller- they would give the two of them privacy.

That didn’t ease his nerves one bit because that meant that there was less room for escape and his fight or flight response was already activated. His heart was thrumming chaotically and his palms were shaking slightly, but he could do this. He had stood on a stage at VidCon with an innumerable amount of eyes on him, clutching a faulty microphone, as he answered questions, and he had survived.

Besides…

It’s about Phil.

Louise was sitting on a plush blue couch, legs crossed delicately at her ankles. The top portion of her hair was pinned to the back of her head with large ringlets resting on her shoulders. She had a large pink porcelain mug nestled in her lap as she laughed at something Chris was saying.

What’s he doing here?!

“Dan!” Louise greeted, standing at his approach, smoothing down her dark dress after she set the mug down on the glass top of the modern-style coffee table. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem,” Dan slipped into his professional voice, following Louise’s lead. “It’s nice to finally meet you, officially.”

“Likewise,” Louise affirmed before dipping her head at where Chris was seated beside her. “It’s time for you to go, Chris, darling.” Her eyes didn’t have any crinkles to suggest that she was upset but the slight tautness in the inflection of her words left no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” Chris laughed as he pushed himself off the couch with his arm. “Go easy on him, Lou.”

“You’re one to talk,” Louise snorted, slapping Chris with moderate force against his shoulder. “You were being a prat at the meeting,” She chastised, and Chris made a show of rubbing the ‘injured’ area, pouting childishly. “Come on now, off you go.”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at the display of Chris and Louise’s playfully antagonistic friendship. It grew as Chris made a spluttering noise by pressing his tongue and lips together at her.

Chris’ face dropped into a solemn expression a second later, and Dan’s delighted smile dissolved immediately at the change. Chris rested his fingertips on Louise’s forearm delicately.

“Just enough, Lou.” The words held an unspoken warning as well as a note of finality. “Phil would not be happy if you…”

If she what? Dan’s mind wondered.

“Of course,” Louise acknowledged, patting Chris’ fingers before he pulled away and waved enthusiastically at Dan before rushing away from them with quick, hasty footsteps.

It was just the two of them now, and Dan slid his hands into the recesses of his pockets to conceal their now noticeable trembling. Louise didn’t seem much better as she flipped the ends of her hair with her thumb before sighing, motioning to the blue armchair beside the couch.

“I’m not going to bite you, Dan. I just want to talk.”

“You know,” Dan stammered as his legs carried him stiffly to the chair. His hands remerged to grip the edge of both armrests as he fell into it. “I told Phil I was scared of you. I was joking at first but now, I’m properly terrified.” He managed a strained chuckle.

“I know...he made me promise that I wouldn’t give you the third degree,” Louise commented, lips pulling up in the corners a small fraction. “He’s very fond of you, you know.” The miniscule smile that had appeared fell away and she clasped her hands in her lap. “Which is why we need to have this talk.”

Dan rocked onto his left hip then his right, recalling how he used to do the exact same thing when he was a child and his mother was scolding him. He nibbled his lip- catching a dry piece with his tooth, pulling until it stung and a coppery scent invaded his nose.

What would Phil not be happy about you telling me?

The question sat heavy on the flat of his tongue like a fat cat lazing in the sun and he could feel the curve of the letters skimming his teeth like gentle scrapes of sheathed claws. He swallowed before reclining against the back of his chair.

“If Phil hasn’t complained about me, what is the problem?” Dan challenged weakly, bringing his fingers to his mouth to camouflage the tiny bead of blood that he knew was there.

“You made a vlog, recently,” Louise interjected, unclasping her hands to drum her fingers against her knee. “A Day in the Life?”

“Yes?” Dan confirmed with a questioning lilt, unsure why his sporadic vlogging was relevant to the conversation.

“With Phil.” Louise prompted, leaning forward slightly.

Oh.

Dan resisted the urge to press deeper into the cushion supporting his spine.

“Yes?” He repeated, uncertainly.

“When you edited the footage,” Louise continued casually, plucking her drink from the table to take a sip. “Did anything stand out to you?” Dan blinked slowly at her, not trusting himself to speak, and Louise continued as she dropped the mug from her lips. “Because some of those jump cuts are not as neat as they can be.”

“It happens,” Dan countered petulantly, frowning at the unintentional subtle jab to his editing skills.

“There has to be a reason,” Louise retorted with a single arched brow. “Your recent videos are clean cut. You’ve definitely improved since you started so why the sudden choppiness?”

Dan rolled his lips together, hissing inaudibly at the rawness of the throbbing split from his earlier biting, as he resisted the urge to confirm Louise’s suspicions right away.

It was true. He had chopped the footage a bit messily because there were split second frames of Phil’s slightly drooped shoulders and the turmoil that Dan could only imagine the depth of evident in the worn down sheen covering his gaze. When he had been sitting at his computer with his headphones covering his ears… he had known that he couldn’t leave those snippets in, those moments that exposed the cracks in Phil’s armor, to be witnessed and commented on by semi-anonymous users on a video sharing site because it was Dan’s career choice.

Phil hadn’t agreed to be studied by his (sometimes) overly observant fans, and he certainly didn’t agree to the negative commentary that inevitably popped up on every video.

So, he had cut out Phil’s soft, “My partner did.” but that skip was glaringly obvious in the final product.

Maybe it drew more attention to the other snips I did.

It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to know your reasoning.

Dan wiggled so he was sitting closer to the edge of the seat, unwilling to admit anything to Louise.

I know I did the right thing.

Even if she was Phil’s friend (and hadn’t been unreasonable so far), he didn’t have any reason to trust her with his thoughts.

Louise surprised him. She didn’t try to cajole him into responding or snark at his stubborn tenacity to not answer her question. Instead, she gave him a lenient, patient smile before she took a deep breath, her nails making a low tink-tink-tink against the porcelain still resting in her hands.

“Phil mentioned that you know about Aiden, so...” Dan’s jolted upright swiftly and ignored the way his vertebrae popped in several places, interested in the name he had heard a handful of times. His eyes followed Louise’s gaze as it dropped to her lap. A faint unhappy note buzzed through the air before she sighed, “Let me tell you a story.”

Dan lips quirked upwards as the tentative light-hearted tease jumped from the tip of his tongue, “Story time?”

“Hush, you.” Louise giggled once before she let herself sink into the cushions, the tapping of her nails ceasing. “I met Phil purely by chance. He and Aiden were in London to look at the Uni here around the time we moved down. They had decided to bring the van to try and sell a couple of bouquets.”

“Phil’s been doing the flower thing for that long?” Dan chortled, bringing a hand to his temple. “I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“It wasn’t a proper business then. It was a side project,” Louise supplied with a tone that belied her soft spot for An Array of Sunshine and its owners. “Or so, Phil insisted.”

“Right.” Dan’s skepticism of Phil’s past self permeated the way his lips moved with the syllables of the single word. “A side project. Go on.”

“So, I met them both. Aiden was not what you would expect-” Louise brought a hand to cover her mouth as she pulsated with remembered merriment. “He was always dipping his toes in new experiences. It would drive Phil up the wall but,” She angled her head as she pinned Dan with light eyes devoid of any deceit and glimmering with quiet sympathy. “Aiden was so sweet with Phil. He adored him. And Phil…”

I don’t know if I want to hear this.

Dan let backbone curve as his body slid lower in his seat.

“Phil loved that boy, Dan,” Louise told him compassionately, setting her mug on the table, before she rested her hand lightly on his forearm. “When Aiden was diagnosed, he went straight to his advisor to change his face to face lectures to online courses.”

“What…” Dan began, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “...was Aiden’s condition?”

Louise hesitated a moment, fingers compressing his skin before relaxing. Her front teeth sunk into her lower lip as she seemed to come to a decision. “Have you heard of Lou Gehrig’s disease?”

“Um-” Dan hedged, moving his arm to dislodge Louise’s grasp, before he admitted. “No.”

“That’s alright. It’s a motor neuron disease that causes the muscles to weaken and atrophy,” Louise explained easily, running a finger around the shell of her ear to make sure her hair was held away from her face. “Eventually, people can lose use of their arms and legs.” Louise’s voice dropped as she continued, “That’s part of the reason Aiden went to the doctor. He was struggling with using the tools at work.”

Dan’s head swam with this information as he tried to imagine operating without being able to manipulate things with his hands or not being able to stroll about his flat like he did at times. It was a difficult concept to grasp, and he wondered how he would have taken it if he had been the one to receive the news.

Or, been the one who had to see his significant other being told the news.

Aiden had to tell Phil. How could he possibly have done that?

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan managed through his constricted airways. “Chris said, ‘Just enough.’ before he left...is this…” He jerked his hand outwards to Louise before bringing it stiffly to himself. “Is this what he meant? Is this enough or too much?” A realization streaked across his mind in a blaze after he said Chris’ name. “Is Phil not going to be happy you told me?”

“No, no,” Louise pacified him calmly as she stood to pace in the space at the other end of the coffee table. “Aiden’s diagnosis isn’t a secret, Dan. Chris was referring to something else entirely.”

Like what? Dan wanted to demand but there was a painful knot twisting in his throat and a heavy weight on his chest as Louise took a couple of steps forward to turn and repeat in the opposite direction.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan repeated because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, rubbing at the base of his throat over the divot where his collarbones met his sternum.

“Because you vlogged with Phil,” Louise blurted out, stopping her nervous movement to hold out her upward facing palms. “Phil is still struggling with Aiden’s death, Dan. It’s been three years but they grew up together and it can take years -” Louise stressed, hands waving wildly as her words gained speed. “It is taking years for him to grieve, and he’s still pretending he’s okay and you go and shove a camera-”

“I didn’t know.” The burning, pricking sensation in the corner both of his eyes had him grinding a balled fist into his right one, inhaling through his nose gruffly. He leaned on it. “I didn’t know.”

Louise’s anger melted instantly with his whispered words and she sighed, dragging her feet on the carpet until she was standing in front of him.

“I know,” She mumbled before leaning down to clutch his shoulders. “I just don’t think Phil should be exposed to the craziness that is your comment section. Have you read some of them?”

“I haven’t been on much,” Dan confessed with a sniffle. “Ruthie and I have been spending time together since she’s been filming and I’ve been working on some new skits…”

And missing Phil. He adds to himself as Louise’s eyes flickered to the cheek Ruth had kissed before they had parted ways with a troubled downward twist of her lips.

“You should. Your fanbase has some...interesting things to say.”

-

Previous Part: Anger, first act/ Next Part: Bargaining, first act

[demi-dufresne]

they were the worst soulmates ever. of all time.

THEY WERE WAS THE WORST SOULMATES EVER. OF ALL TIME.

A Wash-centric story for the “Worst __ Ever” or “Soulmates” square of the @rvbficwars  blue team bingo! In which Washington puts the “shit” in relationshit. 

Soulmate marks were never something Wash really put that much thought into. Sure, there was one very obviously on his wrist, something he didn’t take that much pride in. He didn’t really care, either. But after society sort of rejected the idea of soulmates, before Wash was even born, it was custom to keep them hidden at all times. And for Wash, that meant long sleeves and long nights trying to figure out how to work makeup.

The first time anyone said anything about his mark, he was somewhere around fourteen. That was the first time he found himself sitting on Church’s floor, a box full of Carolina’s skin-toned products sitting in between them.

“If you think I understand how to do this, you’ve come to the wrong person,” Church grumbled. “Just because I have a sister doesn’t mean I know how this works. Don’t you have a sister, anyways?” He had his arms crossed, and somewhat of a scowl danced across his face.

“Please, man? I didn’t really get that anything was wrong with it until my teacher said something. My teacher, for crying out loud. Like, I’m sorry, is it really his job to be focusing on that?” Wash said. He was looking down at the concealer like it was some sort of dangerous explosive, just waiting to blow up and take him with it.

“Welcome to the world of dress code, dipshit,” Church said. His arms were crossed against his chest, and his socks were pulled up mid-calf. Those socks drove Wash crazy. Almost as crazy as the stupid soulmate marks. 

“Like, why aren’t they allowed to be shown anyways?” He muttered. He picked up a tube that read “BB Cream” in a large font on the front. He held it up to the light, confused.

“You know very well why. People wanted to have their own option of free choice who they got with, not to have it pushed on them by some gods or whatever. Just follow the rules, it’s not like it would kill you,” Church said. Wash sighed. He unscrewed the lid of the cream, pushing a little out onto his wrist.

“Do you just like, spread it around?” Wash questioned, moving the cream liquid around with his other hand.

“What are you asking me for?” Church said. “You should ask your sister. Or mine. No promises she’d answer, though.” Wash rubbed his skin, watching the color of his mark fade.

Washington’s soulmate mark was, unfortunately, a very dark color. It was something of a dark blue-green (teal?) ink, carved into a two-pronged key. It almost looked like a sword. It wasn’t going away.

“I think I’m going to have to ask someone else about this,” he grumbled. “This stuff doesn’t even cover up my freckles.”  He was holding his wrist away from Church, making so that he couldn't see it. Church was politely (for once,) diverting his vision.

“Why don’t you ask CT, maybe she’ll know,” Church suggested, leaning back against the nearest wall.

“Nah, Connie’s mark is right behind her ear. She keeps half her head shaved and everything just so people can see it. You know how Connie is,” Wash said.

“She’s your sister, Wash. Cut her some slack.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. He looked up at the analog clock on Church’s wall. “I should probably get going anyway. Dad’ll kill me if I’m home late.”

“Trust me Wash, your dad is lax. Mess with mine and he’d cut you, I promise,” Church said. “See you tomorrow, asshat.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Church.” And he went home uneventfully. That’s how Wash’s life typically was- uneventful.

The second time he found himself in that position was three years later. But that’s beside the point.

Wash was sixteen now, and he had gotten the whole makeup thing down. Add a little pink for color correction, work in the concealer he bought at CVS specifically for covering up soulmate marks, blending with a blending brush. It helped that the weird boy who always wore pink t-shirts was willing to point out when his blending was flawed, even if he was a bit annoying. But sure. Wash was finally feeling the level of comfort required to go outside in tank tops and sleeveless shirts. About time, too, considering Summer was finally approaching.

He was wearing something of a gray and yellow tank-top, cargo shorts down to his knees. When he stepped outside and felt the breeze on his shoulders it was like he was an entirely new person.

The funny thing about soulmate marks was that they didn’t have to be in the same place as your soulmate’s. So long as you had that same pattern on your skin, the world knew that the two of you were destined to be. Or at least, it did before the people decided to start hiding them.

Little did Wash know how much that would be affecting him.

“Hey, asshole!” Someone called. Wash raised an eyebrow. Who-

Lavernius Tucker was sitting at the end of his driveway, riding some stupid teal and black bicycle that Wash knew he definitely stole. He had that same cocky grin on that he always did, and his thick dreadlocks were tumbling down his shoulders.

“You’re not wearing a helmet,” Wash pointed out, taking couple steps towards Tucker. The two of them weren’t really friends, per se, but they had something figured out. Whatever it may be.

“And you’re not wearing a jacket! Whoa! I’ve never seen those shoulders! What is this, some parallel universe?” Tucker joked.

“Shut up. I just felt like enjoying the weather today, that is all,” Wash deadpanned. “Why are you even here, Tucker?”

“Just felt like stopping by. Besides, I got this sick ride here,” Tucker said, gesturing to the bicycle. “I traded some kid some Pokemon cards and my old bike for it. Sucker doesn’t even know he got robbed.”

“I figured,” Wash said.

“Hey though, we could head down to the park and shoot some hoops or something. I know you have a ball in your garage, I’ve borrowed it before.”

“You did what.” “Come on, Wash, let’s go! It’ll be fun,” Tucker said with a dramatic wink. Wash rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Fine. Let me get my bike, I’ll meet you there.”

It was about twenty minutes before the two of them made it to the park, Tucker and Wash’s bikes tossed to the side with Wash’s helmet. They were sitting on the bench by the basketball court, Wash idly passing the ball between his two hands. They were quiet before Tucker spoke up.

“Hey, man. I’ve been thinking.”

“You? Thinking? That’s new,” Wash said. Tucker sent him a disgruntled look.

“Shut up. Just… Nevermind. Forget I said anything,” Tucker muttered, standing up. “Let’s just shoot some ball, okay?”

Wash raised an eyebrow. “Are you… alright, Tucker?”

“Just shoot the fucking ball, Wash,” Tucker said. Wash stood up after him, following quietly. He contemplated letting Tucker win out of pity, but decided against it. Tucker wasn’t the kind of guy to like that.

With this detailed makeup and long shirt strategy, Wash was finally starting to feel like he wasn’t that much of an outcast. People didn’t look at him funny when they saw his arms, and no one would question why he was being “indecent” or whatever. He was just Wash. And sometimes, that was all he wanted to be known for.

A year later and he was back at Church’s house. This time, though, he wasn’t there to talk makeup. He was on a date.

This was a first for Washington. He didn’t do crushes, didn’t do feelings, really. He grew up with most of his friends female and never was attracted to any of them. He just didn’t question that and figured he would when he was older. Guys dated girls. That’s how things worked.

And then he took a moment to get to know Church- to really get to know Church.

They guy wasn’t all too charming. Wasn’t all too handsome, either. But he had a jarring smile and light green eyes and was just funny enough to make Wash laugh. He was an asshole, but Wash figured that, well, so was he. And when the guy asked him to maybe grab a coffee sometime… Okay. Maybe Wash wasn’t 100% sure it was a date. But after talking to Connie and Carolina for all of ten seconds, he was smart enough to figure out it was. And he’d already said yes. What could go wrong?

So many things could go wrong.

“What do I wear. I don’t know what to wear,” he said, his closet open and half of its contents spilled out on his bed. “Tucker, this is important.”

Tucker, however, was in the middle of laughing his ass off. “Dude, you sound like a chick from a nineties movie, oh my god,” he coughed out between chuckles. Wash, though, was not laughing.

“What if he doesn’t like me. What if this isn’t meant to be a date. I’m overthinking things, Tucker, I need your help.” There was genuine concern in Wash’s voice that didn’t go undetected, but Tucker simply didn’t care.

“Just wear a damn t-shirt with a flannel or something, you’ll look fine,” Tucker said. “I know your weird fear of showing your arms to strangers.”

“Lavernius, I could really do without your teasing right now,” Wash said.

“Ooh, pulling the first name card. Low blow. Guess this means you're serious, right?” Tucker said. He straightened up then, looking at Wash with his head cocked to the side. “Just be yourself, Wash. Whoever this nameless guy is, he’d have to be stupid not to love you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker,” Wash had stuttered out, but he did take a careful effort to pull out the t-shirt and gray flannel Tucker was talking about. He trusted his word.

So that's how he found himself on Churchs front porch, nervously tugging down his sleeves. “It will be alright,” he thought to himself. “He’ll see your mark and hate you and it will never be alright,” he also thought to himself. Wash needed to put some serious consideration into just stopping thinking altogether, at this point.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn't Church who opened the door. In front of him was a huge, hulking man with graying hair and glasses, staring down at him intimidatingly.

“Uh, hello sir, may I please see Leonard?” He asked, twiddling his fingers anxiously.

“You're speaking to him,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at Wash. Uh-oh. This was a test.

“Hey, dad, it’s fine, lay off the guy.” Wash felt his shoulders relax. Test avoided. That was definitely Church’s voice. “He’s sweet.”

“Is this something I could be concerned about?” His father said, turning from Wash to face Church. Wash heaved a sigh of relief.

“Nah dad, nothing to worry about. I'll be home by seven. See ya!” Church pushed himself in front of his dad’s huge form, a grin bubbling on his lips. He shut the door behind him, turning to smile at Wash. “So. The famous David Washington.”

“Well, I wouldn't say famous,” Wash said, but it was useless to deny the faint blush dusting his cheeks. Stupid pale skin, always giving away stupid feelings...

Church himself had also opted for casual attire, Wash noticed, and gave himself an opportunity to breathe. He also had on these really tall, really obnoxious light blue Nike socks, but hey. Church still looked kind of cute, in an endearing way.

“We’re headed to this one coffee shop I know, right on the corner of sixth street,” Church said. He didn't have keys in his hand, and had already started down the sidewalk. “I figured we could walk, if that was okay with you.”

“Of course, I love walking,” Wash said. The second he said it, though, he cringed a little internally. No shit he liked walking. Who the fuck doesn't enjoy general walking.

“Yeah, me too. Especially during Fall. The world’s prettier this time of year. I mean, humans are definitely killing our planet, but hey. Pretty leaves, amirite?” Church said. He was looking around, his head tilted to the sky. When Wash looked at him in this light, he had to admit he was kind of handsome. “I mean, humans are kind of asshats, but at least we invented coffee. We fuckin’ need coffee.”

Wash laughed at that. “Want me to be honest? I’ve never had coffee in my life.” Church stopped where he was walking, staring at Wash with his jaw hanging open.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Well,” Church said, resuming walking, “I’m about to blow your mind.”

“This better be good,” Wash said with a smile. But before he knew it, he felt a hand brushing against his. He gave a quick glance at Church. The guy was looking anywhere but his eyes, pulling a face like he might start casually whistling. Wash smiled. He laced their fingers together. “What’s your favorite drink?” He said, going back to a comfortable topic.

Church chuckled nervously, looking down at his and Wash’s hands. “I-” He stopped though, his breath audibly hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Wash said. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just… your wrist,” Church said. In taking Church’s hand Wash had exposed the bare skin on his wrist. He hadn’t covered it, thinking that the flannel would stay down. Church had his head cocked, staring at it. For the second time they stopped walking, standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

Wash felt himself go pale. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I’ll cover it up if you want me to, I wasn’t expecting it to show-”

“No, it’s fine, I just-” Church said. He let go of Wash’s hand. He paused a second, thinking, before crouching down on his knees. Wash raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah, just. Look,” Church said. Slowly, carefully, he pulled down one of those obnoxious Nike socks, revealing his pale skin underneath. There, on his left ankle, was a gray and yellow two-pronged key. Wash’s eyes widened.

“So,” Wash said, bewildered. This means we’re-”

“Right. Yeah,” Church said, the same tone in his voice.

“I… I think I should go now,” Wash said, taking a step back. “I really need to leave.”

“Wait, Wash, We could-” Church said, standing up. But Wash was already on his way back, walking quickly back to his car. He needed to go.

Church stood there, one sock down and mouth hanging open, watching Washington until he was gone.

Tucker couldn’t stop laughing when he heard the story.

“So wait. Wait. You’re telling me he had the same mark as you and you just ran? You fucking dork!” Tucker said. He was once again sitting against Wash’s bed, sprawled out on the floor.

“I didn’t know what to do and I panicked,” Wash said. He, alternatively, was face down in his pillows.

“What even was the guy’s name, anyway?” Tucker said, looking up at Wash.

“Doesn’t matter,” Wash said, his voice muffled.

“Was it Prince Charming? Because you’re definitely Cinderella,” Tucker said, erupting into another series of laughs.

“He was my soulmate. I know we’re not supposed to share those but I got scared and now I’ll never get that chance again,” Wash said, rolling over to face the ceiling. “Life has become meaningless.”

“Hey man, don’t give up so quick. I mean, you’ve still got me,” Tucker said, standing up from the floor. “Or I mean, most of the time. I’m gonna go get some pizza. Wanna come with?”

Wash moaned, but turned to face Tucker anyways. “Only if you’re paying.”

Flash forward another year and Washington was bedridden. Which like, was very uncomfortable. Wash was the type of person who never wanted to sleep, nevertheless stay in bed all day. He was recovering from surgery. It was nothing too serious- he’d had his wisdom teeth removed last week. He was allergic to the medicine or something, and it was causing him to feel like hell. So much that he’d been out of school for days, and boredom was going to be the death of him. He was sick of sitting there, and if he played another round of Halo he might explode. Wash was sitting up straight in bed, eyes wide, and-- heaven forbid-- actually missing being in school.

Thank god that at three o’clock that day, his bedroom door was slammed open.

“Wash! Wash, hey, I totally just got a date!” Tucker said. He shut the door behind him, a giant grin splitting his face.

“What?” Wash said. He words were still a little muted, his face swollen.

“No okay, so like, we were walking to class and you know how all the leaves are changing color, right? Well, I made some comment about it and he told me that-”

“Wait, wait. He?” Wash said. “You too?”

“What? Man, I don’t even fucking know. If someone’s hot, they’re hot, parts be damned,” Tucker said. Wash shrugged. He didn’t expect that from the guy, but sure. Not like Wash could judge. “Anyway. We’re going to this park down by sixth street on Friday. Wish me luck, friend.”

“Friend?” Wash said, his cheeks burning from speaking.

“Dude. It’s been years. If anything, you’re my best friend. Figured you’d guess that by now,” Tucker said. “Figured you’d guess a lot of things by now.” Tucker’s eyes went down then, his smile falling from his face. “Anyway. I’ll see you soon, man.” He shut the door as he left. Washinton was left feeling very, very confused.

Tucker was back on Saturday, of course, there to report the news. Wash was still sitting in bed. His mouth was to a point where he could talk again, but he’d still get dizzy every time he stood. Even making his way to the bathroom was a struggle.

Tucker opened his bedroom door slower this time. He sat down in a chair by Wash’s bed. In all of this space, he hadn’t said a word. For Tucker, this was very bizarre.

“So?” Wash said, looking his friend (?) up and down. “How did it go?”

“Well. In fifteen minutes, he saw my mark, showed me his, started crying and we kissed. So it was an adventure,” Tucker said. Wash sat up a little more, raising an eyebrow. Tucker sounded very… tired. Washington was interested.

“So like, he had a little picnic basket with a red and white checkered cloth- something exactly like you’d see in a movie. And I have my mark on my neck, right? I was pulling my hair up and he got a view of it, I guess, and totally freaked out. So he showed my his. Makes sense, right? Well, it’s the same one,” Tucker said.

“Oh. Really?” Wash said. For some reson, the idea of Tucker seeing somebody, somebody who was his soulmate. It made Wash uncomfortable.

“But there’s more. So apparently the guy had already met someone with the same mark as his before, but it didn’t work out or whatever? And he asked me how that would work, how we’d both have the same ones. So I mean, I told him the other guy was probably dead and he started crying. Guess they went to the same school and he didn’t see the guy in over a week, I don’t know. Guess it all made sense. But you know how I get when people start crying, I don’t do emotions. So I just sort of… patted him on the back and stuff. He stopped and hugged me, and we ate some sandwiches. From there it was actually kind of good. We played some basketball. I think he let me beat him,” Tucker said. “And then we kissed. He was really good. Like, best kiss I’ve ever had. It was pretty good overall,” Tucker said.

“Then why do you seem so, like, sad about it?” Wash said. Tucker paused, looking up at him. “I mean, you’re moping around and pouting and stuff, but you’re telling me you went on this awesome date. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Yeah, I’m okay. I just figured my soulmate would be… someone else, you know?” Tucker was fiddling with his hands. He looked so small all of a sudden. “I don’t know. Hope you feel better soon, Wash. I’ll see you around.” Tucker stood to go.

“Tucker, wait,” Wash said. He paused then, looking back over to Wash. “Stay a while. We could put on a movie. I heard there’s a new comedy on HBO or something.” Tucker smiled at Wash, looking him up and down.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

About a week later and Wash could finally walk again. And with this ability, where did he go? To a park? On a hike? To school? No, of course not. He went to a damned coffeeshop.

He was sitting at this table that was too far off the ground with a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hands. His back was to the door, and he was waiting for someone. Two someones, actually.

Tucker had decided that Wash needed to meet this mystery boy of his. Wash was a little reluctant, especially when the two of them had been out on like, two dates, but he figured he’d play the “scary dad friend” card if he needed to. Hell, it’s not like Tucker had a dad to do that. That left it Wash’s responsibility.

He took a sip of the coffee. As a person who’d never tried it before it was kind of weird, but. Wash smiled to himself. It was just coffee, black. He kind of liked it.

He heard someone ordering at the counter behind him and purposely didn’t turn to look. He wanted to appear stern and strict from this first impression. He was going to remain calm. He would be smooth.

“Wash, hey!” Tucker said, sliding into the seat across from him. Wash looked up to see his date.

With that he dropped his coffee, brown water spilling all over the table.

So much for smooth.

“W- David. You’re alive,” were the first words out of the guy’s mouth.

“What the- Church?” Wash asked. Tucker looked between the two of them, pausing.

“Right,” he said. “Well. I’m gonna go get some napkins. You guys talk.” He got up and left. Church stared quietly at Wash, eyes scrunched.

“How is this happening?” Church said. Wash shrugged, his eyebrows so high they were practically in his hairline.

“Why are you telling my best friend that you have the same mark as him? Why did you tell me that? Is this a trick you pull? Do you do this on all of your dates?” Washington asked.

“I- wh- No! I promise that’s the only mark I have!”

“The two-pronged key,” Wash finished for him.

“Right, on my ankle! And Tucker has the one on his neck and you have the one on your wrist and they’re the same damn thing!” Church said. “And it’s not like everybody secretly has the same mark, I’ve seen another guy’s before and his was like, a fucking donut or something! I don’t know!”

Right about then is when Tucker came back with the napkins. He looked between the two of them as he pressed them down into the table. “So. You guys know each other?”

“Tucker. Show me your mark,” Wash said.

“What?”

“Show me. Your mark.” Tucker looked nervously to Church, who nodded. Tucker shrugged, pulling his dreads into a high ponytail. There it was. A light blue mark, the same color of Church’s damn socks. Washington’s mouth dropped.

“I told you I wasn’t kidding,” Church said.

“Tucker. I-” Wash started, pulling up his sleeve. Tucker’s eyes widened immediately.

“Holy shit. I mean, just. Holy shit!” Tucker said. He pulled Wash into a hug then, right in the middle of the coffeeshop. He pulled away abruptly though, looking to Church. “Wait a second. So does this mean-”

“The three of us are soulmates?” Church finished, looking up at Wash. It was almost as if he wanted a conformation, proof he wasn’t crazy.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess so.”

It wasn’t too hard for him to believe. It was a little weird that he was soulmates with Tucker, but thinking back on it… no, it really wasn’t. And to finally have Church back, to make up for that mistake he made over a year ago. It all made sense.

“Wait,” Tucker started. “Does this mean I could get to kiss you-” he pointed to Church “and you-” to Wash “whenever I want? Like, is this a thing?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Wash said. He paused, though. “Maybe someday. I mean. Church, would that be okay with you?”

“Dude this is literally a dream come true,” Church laughed.

And it was, for the most part. The three of them bickered on and off, more than any normal couple. And sharing a bed got a little uncomfortable, once they were older. Explaining this whole thing to their parents was a little weird, too, especially with the world’s overall take on soulmates. But if Church was honest… If Wash was honest… If Tucker was honest…

They were happy.

Even if they were the worst soulmates ever. Of all time.

[petrovahpierce]

Make your own lacrosse shooter shirts in any color. Our custom lacrosse shooting shirt long sleeve is made to last.  

[ericfruits]

Canada coddles counterfeiters

“LOUIS VUITTON” handbags for the price of a sandwich. “Rolex” watches that cost as little as a T-shirt. You would not expect to find such obvious fakery at a suburban shopping mall in Canada. But deals of this sort are available at the Pacific Mall in Markham, near Toronto, according to the office of the United States Trade Representative (USTR). Its latest report on “notorious markets”, published in January, lists the three-floor mall alongside the Silk Market in Beijing, Tank Road in Delhi and El Tepito, an open-air market in Mexico City, as places where people can buy counterfeit goods. It is the first time a Canadian bricks-and-mortar outlet has appeared in the report, which has been published since 2011. “Requests for assistance from local law enforcement have reportedly gone unanswered,” the report complains.

The United States has long alleged that its northern neighbour is soft on piracy, allowing vendors to sell goods and cultural products that infringe trademarks and copyrights of American and other firms. Canada appears regularly on the USTR’s annual list of countries that are doing too little to protect intellectual property. The USTR estimates that global trade in counterfeit goods is worth $500bn a year, about 2.5% of total imports. Until now, it has directed most of its complaints about physical retail outlets at developing countries where the rule of law is weak.

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By fingering the Pacific Mall, which calls itself “the largest Chinese shopping mall in North America”, it is turning up the heat on Canada. It is probably no coincidence that the United States, Canada and Mexico are holding talks to revise the North American Free-Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which encompasses the three countries. The United States wants better protection of intellectual property to be part of the new accord.

Its biggest complaint is that border controls in Canada, an important transshipment country, are too lax. In 2014 Canada enacted a law to give customs officers more power to detain shipments and toughened sanctions against people who violate copyrights and trademarks. But after hunting out drugs, guns and illegal immigrants, border guards have little time and money to look for non-Swiss Swiss watches. Over the past two and a half years Canada has detained fewer than 50 suspect shipments, says Lorne Lipkus, a Canadian lawyer who specialises in counterfeiting issues. American customs catch some 30,000 a year.

The United States also wants better policing within Canada. Unlike the United States and the European Union, Canada does not have a central law-enforcement team responsible for counterfeiting. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the national force, disbanded its unit after the government stiffened the law in 2014.

Local police forces are expected to help, but they lack manpower. Robert Whalen, the specialist for the Toronto police force, learned about counterfeiting while investigating organised-crime gangs, which traffic in tandoori ovens with bogus safety certificates, fake cancer drugs and other impostor products. Even he does not pursue counterfeiters full-time. “If I’m called right now and told there is a store with a whole bunch of counterfeit Louis Vuitton and I get a call five minutes later and [am] told there is a shooting up the street, I’m going to go to the shooting,” says Mr Whalen.

American suspicions of the Pacific Mall, where most sellers and customers appear to be of Chinese origin, are well founded, says Mr Lipkus. “I’ve served hundreds of court orders, cease-and-desist documents, and helped the police execute multiple search warrants there,” he says. The mall’s appearance on the USTR’s list of notorious emporiums may be having more effect. In a statement on February 20th its management said it was “deeply disturbed and disappointed” by reports that vendors were selling fake goods, and would take measures to stop the practice.

On a recent Friday (before the statement) a black “Chanel” handbag was on sale for C$12.95 ($10.20). (The real thing lists for C$5,950.) But that was one of the few fakes on display. Since the USTR’s report big names like Gucci, Burberry, and Louis Vuitton are hidden, says Mr Whalen. If the NAFTA countries agree to update the treaty, the fakes may stay off the shelves.

This article appeared in the The Americas section of the print edition under the headline "Marked down in Markham"

http://ift.tt/2Cdf34R

[alanafsmith]

Kate Steinle's death at the hands of a Mexican national became a flashpoint in the immigration debate — here's the story behind her killing

The unauthorized immigrant who killed Kate Steinle in 2015 was acquitted by a jury on Thursday of murder and manslaughter charges.

The verdict sparked outrage among immigration hardliners and critics of so-called "sanctuary cities," who argued that Steinle's death could have been prevented if the city of San Francisco had not released Garcia Zarate from jail shortly before the shooting.

But the facts of Garcia Zarate's case are more complicated — San Francisco officials and federal authorities have each blamed the other for Garcia Zarate's release.

The surprise acquittal of Jose Ines Garcia Zarate in the shooting death of San Francisco woman Kate Steinle set off a firestorm of outrage Thursday night, as top conservatives and critics of so-called "sanctuary cities" pinned blame for Steinle's death on illegal immigration and insufficiently aggressive deportation policies.

Garcia Zarate, a 45-year-old Mexican national who was homeless and living in the US illegally when he fired the shot that killed Steinle, was acquitted by a jury on murder and manslaughter charges. The jury convicted him of the lesser charge of being a felon in possession of a gun, which carries a maximum sentence of three years in state prison.

Steinle, 32, was fatally shot while she walked along Pier 14 of the San Francisco Bay with her father in July 2015. The bullet that pierced her back had ricocheted off the concrete ground after it was fired by Garcia Zarate from a handgun belonging to a federal ranger that had been stolen four days earlier.

Garcia Zarate's defense attorneys argued that the shooting was an accident — they said he found the gun wrapped in a T-shirt or cloth under a pier bench and unintentionally discharged it.

Lead attorney Matt Gonzalez has argued that the weapon was a SIG Sauer with a "hair trigger in single-action mode" — a model well-known for accidental discharges even among experienced shooters. Gonzalez told the jury, according to the San Francisco Chronicle, that Garcia Zarate had never handled a firearm before, was frightened by the noise of the gunshot, then flung the weapon into the bay where it was later found by a diver.

Prosecutors, however, alleged that Garcia Zarate brought the weapon to the pier deliberately to do harm, and intentionally aimed and shot Steinle after firmly pulling the trigger. They said Garcia Zarate then threw the weapon into the bay and fled the scene.

San Francisco's 'sanctuary' policies were closely scrutinized after Steinle's death

Beyond the shooting itself, perhaps the most controversial aspect of Garcia Zarate's case involves his previous criminal activity and history of deportations, and how San Francisco and federal authorities handled his custody before he ever picked up the gun and shot Steinle.

At the time of Steinle's death, Garcia Zarate had been convicted of nonviolent drug crimes and deported five times since the early 1990s.

He faced a sixth deportation in 2015, and was in Justice Department (DOJ) custody that March after serving 46 months in prison for a felony re-entry into the US, but instead of transferring him into the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for deportation, the department transferred him to the San Francisco County Jail for prosecution of a 1995 marijuana charge.

San Francisco prosecutors, who had long ago deprioritized marijuana charges, dismissed the decades-old charge and released Garcia Zarate on April 15, 2015. Due to San Francisco's policy of limiting cooperation with federal immigration authorities — which some refer to as a "sanctuary" policy — the city did not inform ICE when they released Garcia Zarate.

As a result of the case, both the DOJ and the city of San Francisco have changed several policies. The DOJ announced in 2016 it would no longer release potentially deportable detainees to local jails without first allowing ICE to take custody. San Francisco, meanwhile, has adjusted its policy to notify ICE if they are releasing suspected undocumented immigrants who face charges of serious or violent felonies.

"This tragedy could have been prevented if San Francisco had simply turned the alien over to ICE as we requested, instead of releasing him back onto the streets," ICE Director Thomas Homan said in a statement on Thursday. "It is unconscionable that politicians across this country continue to endanger the lives of Americans with sanctuary policies while ignoring the harm inflicted on their constituents."

But ICE has faced criticism of its own over not seeking a judicial warrant to legally obtain custody of Garcia Zarate when it discovered he had been transferred into San Francisco's custody. The agency has argued that obtaining judicial warrants are unnecessary and would place too much burden on ICE officials and federal courts.

Though the agency did issue a request to the city to detain Garcia Zarate until ICE officials could pick him up, their detainer requests are not signed by a judge and are therefore not legally binding. San Francisco's policy is to ignore such requests if they are not accompanied by judge-signed warrants, and the city has cited federal court cases concluding that such detentions violate inmates' Fourth Amendment rights.

The right has used Steinle's death as evidence of the perils of illegal immigration

Garcia Zarate's deportation and criminal history made him an effective target for immigration hardliners, who argued that Steinle would still be alive were it not for an insecure border and lenient treatment toward suspected undocumented immigrants in local jails.

President Donald Trump immediately seized on the verdict on Thursday as evidence of the perils of "Illegal Immigration." Trump frequently villainized Garcia Zarate and cited Steinle's death during his presidential campaign, using the case to bolster his argument for a border wall and aid his crusade against "sanctuary cities."

Early on Friday, Trump also falsely claimed on Twitter that Garcia Zarate had previously committed violent crimes and had illegally entered the US six times due to lax border security under the Obama administration.

"The Kate Steinle killer came back and back over the weakly protected Obama border, always committing crimes and being violent, and yet this info was not used in court. His exoneration is a complete travesty of justice. BUILD THE WALL!" Trump tweeted.

In fact, Garcia Zarate had never been convicted of a violent crime before Steinle's shooting — his previous convictions were for nonviolent drug crimes and illegal entry. Lax border security, too, does not appear to be a factor since Garcia Zarate was caught by border patrol agents each time he entered the country under the Obama administration.

In contrast, Steinle's family has expressed nuanced views on immigration and "sanctuary" policies. They have both condemned  Trump for "sensationalizing" Steinle's death to advance anti-immigration policies, and expressed frustration with San Francisco officials, who they believe went too far in refusing to cooperate with federal immigration authorities.

SEE ALSO: The mysterious death of a border patrol agent may have been an accident, Texas sheriff says, not an attack as Trump suggested

Join the conversation about this story »

NOW WATCH: Vladimir Putin could secretly be one of the richest men in the world — an investigative reporter who spent 4 years in Russia explains

from All About Law http://www.businessinsider.com/who-is-kate-steinle-murder-immigration-2017-12

[blueiceindustry-blog]

Lacrosse shorts | Lacrosse Uniform

Lacrosse shorts | Lacrosse Uniform

Customized Lacrosse Shorts: Show off your love for lacrosse and surfing with these great lacrosse shorts! These shorts are crafted out of 100% polyester mesh material for great durability along with sweat wicking properties. Polyester Microfiber is 100% Polyester material that is light weight at only 115 gsm. We can use this in any of our shorts, but generally all purpose shorts.   Features: 1.…

[tortuga-aak]

Kate Steinle's death at the hands of a Mexican national became a flashpoint in the immigration debate — here's the story behind her killing

The unauthorized immigrant who killed Kate Steinle in 2015 was acquitted by a jury on Thursday of murder and manslaughter charges.

The verdict sparked outrage among immigration hardliners and critics of so-called "sanctuary cities," who argued that Steinle's death could have been prevented if the city of San Francisco had not released Garcia Zarate from jail shortly before the shooting.

But the facts of Garcia Zarate's case are more complicated — San Francisco officials and federal authorities have each blamed the other for Garcia Zarate's release.

The surprise acquittal of Jose Ines Garcia Zarate in the shooting death of San Francisco woman Kate Steinle set off a firestorm of outrage Thursday night, as top conservatives and critics of so-called "sanctuary cities" pinned blame for Steinle's death on illegal immigration and insufficiently aggressive deportation policies.

Garcia Zarate, a 45-year-old Mexican national who was homeless and living in the US illegally when he fired the shot that killed Steinle, was acquitted by a jury on murder and manslaughter charges. The jury convicted him of the lesser charge of being a felon in possession of a gun, which carries a maximum sentence of three years in state prison.

Steinle, 32, was fatally shot while she walked along Pier 14 of the San Francisco Bay with her father in July 2015. The bullet that pierced her back had ricocheted off the concrete ground after it was fired by Garcia Zarate from a handgun belonging to a federal ranger that had been stolen four days earlier.

Garcia Zarate's defense attorneys argued that the shooting was an accident — they said he found the gun wrapped in a T-shirt or cloth under a pier bench and unintentionally discharged it.

Lead attorney Matt Gonzalez has argued that the weapon was a SIG Sauer with a "hair trigger in single-action mode" — a model well-known for accidental discharges even among experienced shooters. Gonzalez told the jury, according to the San Francisco Chronicle, that Garcia Zarate had never handled a firearm before, was frightened by the noise of the gunshot, then flung the weapon into the bay where it was later found by a diver.

Prosecutors, however, alleged that Garcia Zarate brought the weapon to the pier deliberately to do harm, and intentionally aimed and shot Steinle after firmly pulling the trigger. They said Garcia Zarate then threw the weapon into the bay and fled the scene.

San Francisco's 'sanctuary' policies were closely scrutinized after Steinle's death

San Francisco Police Department via Associated PressBeyond the shooting itself, perhaps the most controversial aspect of Garcia Zarate's case involves his previous criminal activity and history of deportations, and how San Francisco and federal authorities handled his custody before he ever picked up the gun and shot Steinle.

At the time of Steinle's death, Garcia Zarate had been convicted of nonviolent drug crimes and deported five times since the early 1990s.

He faced a sixth deportation in 2015, and was in Justice Department (DOJ) custody that March after serving 46 months in prison for a felony re-entry into the US, but instead of transferring him into the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for deportation, the department transferred him to the San Francisco County Jail for prosecution of a 1995 marijuana charge.

San Francisco prosecutors, who had long ago deprioritized marijuana charges, dismissed the decades-old charge and released Garcia Zarate on April 15, 2015. Due to San Francisco's policy of limiting cooperation with federal immigration authorities — which some refer to as a "sanctuary" policy — the city did not inform ICE when they released Garcia Zarate.

As a result of the case, both the DOJ and the city of San Francisco have changed several policies. The DOJ announced in 2016 it would no longer release potentially deportable detainees to local jails without first allowing ICE to take custody. San Francisco, meanwhile, has adjusted its policy to notify ICE if they are releasing suspected undocumented immigrants who face charges of serious or violent felonies.

"This tragedy could have been prevented if San Francisco had simply turned the alien over to ICE as we requested, instead of releasing him back onto the streets," ICE Director Thomas Homan said in a statement on Thursday. "It is unconscionable that politicians across this country continue to endanger the lives of Americans with sanctuary policies while ignoring the harm inflicted on their constituents."

But ICE has faced criticism of its own over not seeking a judicial warrant to legally obtain custody of Garcia Zarate when it discovered he had been transferred into San Francisco's custody. The agency has argued that obtaining judicial warrants are unnecessary and would place too much burden on ICE officials and federal courts.

Though the agency did issue a request to the city to detain Garcia Zarate until ICE officials could pick him up, their detainer requests are not signed by a judge and are therefore not legally binding. San Francisco's policy is to ignore such requests if they are not accompanied by judge-signed warrants, and the city has cited federal court cases concluding that such detentions violate inmates' Fourth Amendment rights.

The right has used Steinle's death as evidence of the perils of illegal immigration

Fox NewsGarcia Zarate's deportation and criminal history made him an effective target for immigration hardliners, who argued that Steinle would still be alive were it not for an insecure border and lenient treatment toward suspected undocumented immigrants in local jails.

President Donald Trump immediately seized on the verdict on Thursday as evidence of the perils of "Illegal Immigration." Trump frequently villainized Garcia Zarate and cited Steinle's death during his presidential campaign, using the case to bolster his argument for a border wall and aid his crusade against "sanctuary cities."

Early on Friday, Trump also falsely claimed on Twitter that Garcia Zarate had previously committed violent crimes and had illegally entered the US six times due to lax border security under the Obama administration.

"The Kate Steinle killer came back and back over the weakly protected Obama border, always committing crimes and being violent, and yet this info was not used in court. His exoneration is a complete travesty of justice. BUILD THE WALL!" Trump tweeted.

In fact, Garcia Zarate had never been convicted of a violent crime before Steinle's shooting — his previous convictions were for nonviolent drug crimes and illegal entry. Lax border security, too, does not appear to be a factor since Garcia Zarate was caught by border patrol agents each time he entered the country under the Obama administration.

In contrast, Steinle's family has expressed nuanced views on immigration and "sanctuary" policies. They have both condemned  Trump for "sensationalizing" Steinle's death to advance anti-immigration policies, and expressed frustration with San Francisco officials, who they believe went too far in refusing to cooperate with federal immigration authorities.

NOW WATCH: Trump's Twitter account was deactivated for 11 minutes because of a disgruntled employee — here are the best reactions

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BLOG TOUR - Dream a Little Death

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THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

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Dream A Little Death

by Susan Kandel

on Tour May 23 – June 23, 2017

Synopsis:

From critically acclaimed author Susan Kandel comes a charming new mystery featuring Dreama Black and a cast of zany LA-based characters.

The first time I set eyes on Miles McCoy, I worried he might try to eat me. He was the size and girth of a North American grizzly, with long, silver-tipped hair, a long silver-tipped beard, and small dark eyes that bore into me like I was a particularly fine specimen of Chinook salmon. It couldn’t have helped that I’d used a honey scrub the morning we met. I should’ve known better. Not just about the scrub, but about a lot of things.

Like braving the freeway during rush hour. Like thinking you can’t get a ticket for parking at a broken meter. Like racing up to his penthouse in gladiator sandals, and expecting not to twist an ankle. Like watching his fiancée shoot herself, and assuming it was suicide, instead of murder.

Meet Dreama Black. A 28 year-old, third-generation groupie trying to figure out who she is after being publicly dumped by the rock god whose mega-hit, “Dreama, Little Dreama” made the name and the girl world-famous. Now Dreama supports herself by running custom-designed, themed tours of her hometown of L.A. When she is hired by a Raymond Chandler-obsessed rap producer to create a “L.A. noir” tour as his present to his soon-to-be bride, Dreama gets pulled into the middle of a possible murder, corrupt cops, and an unforgettable pair of femme fatales.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller Published by: Witness Impulse Publication Date: May 23rd 2017 Number of Pages: 304 ISBN: 0062674994 (ISBN13: 9780062674999) Series: A Dreama Black Mystery, 1 Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

The first time I set eyes on Miles McCoy, I worried he might try to eat me. He was the size and girth of a North American grizzly bear, with long silver-tipped hair, a long silver-tipped beard, and small dark eyes that bore into me like I was a particularly fine specimen of Chinook salmon. It couldn’t have helped that I’d used a honey scrub the morning we met. I should’ve known better. Not just about the scrub, but about a lot of things.

Like braving the freeway during rush hour.

Like thinking you can’t get a ticket for parking at a broken meter.

Like racing up to his penthouse in Balenciaga gladiator sandals, and expecting not to twist an ankle.

Like watching his fiancée shoot herself, and assuming it was suicide, instead of murder.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, which is another thing I should know better about. Because if I’ve learned anything at all from my study of film noir (which got me into the whole sordid Miles McCoy mess to begin with), it is to tell the story in the precise order in which it happened.

The trouble started the day before, which was Valentine’s Day, a pagan holiday named after the Roman priest who defied Claudius II by marrying Christian couples. After being hauled off in shackles, the soft-hearted cleric was beaten with clubs, stoned, and when that didn’t finish him off, publicly beheaded. Makes you think.

It had poured rain for eight days running, which isn’t what you sign on for when you live in Los Angeles. But that morning, as I stepped outside for a run, the sun was blinding—so blinding, in fact, that I didn’t see the fragrant valentine my neighbor’s dog, Engelbart, had left on the stoop for me. Not that I minded spending the next twenty minutes cleaning the grooves of my running shoe with a chopstick. It was a beautiful day. The rollerbladers were cruising the Venice boardwalk. The scent of medical marijuana was wafting through the air. Engelbart’s gastrointestinal tract was sound.

An hour later, I hopped into my mint green 1975 Mercedes convertible, and made my way up Lincoln to the freeway. I was headed to Larchmont, an incongruous stretch of Main Street, USA, sandwiched between Hollywood and Koreatown. This was where studio executives’ wives and their private school daughters came for green juice, yoga pants, and the occasional wrench from the general store that had served Hancock Park since the 1930s. It was also where my mother and grandmother ran Cellar Door, known for its chia seed porridge and life-positive service. I helped out whenever my coffers were running low. Which was most of the time.

You are probably frowning right about now. Surely a young woman who owns a classic convertible—as well as Balenciaga gladiators—should not be perennially low on funds. But it’s true.

The car came from my grandmother, who received it as part of her third (fourth?) divorce settlement and gave it to me as a gift when I strong-armed my mother into rehab for the fourth (fifth?) time. The sandals I purchased online in a frenzy of self-loathing shortly after watching my ex-boyfriend the rock god serenading his current girlfriend the supermodel on an otherwise uneventful episode of Ellen. I’d tried to return the sandals, but one of the studs had fallen off, making them damaged goods. Like their owner. Not that I’m hard on myself. It’s just that my career—I take clients on custom-designed, private tours of my hometown of L.A.—wasn’t exactly thriving, which is why I was easy prey for the likes of Miles McCoy. But I’m getting ahead of myself again. Here comes the good part. The part where I’m driving like the wind and almost don’t notice the flashing lights in my mirror. I knew I should have fixed that taillight.

I pulled over, cut the motor, handed the cop my license and registration. He looked down, then did a double take. “Dreama Black?”

That would be me.

“The Dreama Black?” he continued. “As in ‘Dreama, Little Dreama’?”

Perhaps I should explain.

I am a twenty-eight-year-old, third-generation rock ’n’ roll groupie—or “muse,” as the women in my family like to put it.

My grandmother, a fine-boned blonde who never met a gossamer shawl or Victorian boot she didn’t like, spent the sixties sleeping her way through Laurel Canyon, winding up in a house on Rothdell Trail (a.k.a. “Love Street”) purchased for her by a certain lead singer of a certain iconic band whose name is the plural of the thing that hits you on the way out.

My mother, blessed with thick, dark tresses and a way with mousse, was consort to many of the pseudo-androgynous alpha males of American hair metal, her chief claim to fame an MTV video in which she writhed across the hood of a Porsche wearing a white leotard and black, thigh-high boots. She also bought Axl Rose his first kilt.

As for me, well, I was on my way to freshman orientation when this guy I’d been seeing, who’d played a couple of no-name clubs with some friends from summer camp, intercepted me at LAX, put his lips to my ear, and hummed the opening bars of a new song I’d apparently inspired. Instead of boarding the plane for Berkeley, I boarded the tour bus with Luke Cutt and the other skinny, pimply members of Rocket Science. Four world tours, three hit albums, two Grammys, and one breakup later, “Dreama, Little Dreama”—an emo pop anthem that went gold in seven days and has sold eleven million copies to date—had made me almost famous forever.

“Step out of the car, please.”

The cop removed his sunglasses. Peach fuzz. Straight out of the academy. “So.”

He wanted to get a picture with me.

“I’d love to get a picture with you,” he said.

I smoothed down my cut-offs and striped T-shirt, removed my red Ray-Bans, ran my fingers through my long, straight, freshly balayaged auburn hair. The cop put his arm around me, leaned in close, took a couple of snaps on his phone. Let me guess. He’d had a crush on me since tenth grade, when he saw me in a white tank and no bra on the cover of Rocket Science’s debut C.D., and now he was going to post the pictures on Instagram to show all his buddies.

“Awesome.” He gave me a brotherly punch on the arm. “No way is my wife going to believe this. She’s crazy about Luke Cutt. Hey, is he really dating that Victoria’s Secret Angel? She is smoking hot.”

At least I didn’t get the ticket.

  Excerpt from Dream A Little Death by Susan Kandel. Copyright © 2017 by Susan Kandel. Reproduced with permission from HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

An Agatha, Edgar, and SCIBA nominee, Susan Kandel is the author of the nationally best-selling and critically acclaimed Cece Caruso series, the most recent of which, Dial H for Hitchcock (Morrow), was named by NPR as one of the five best mysteries of the year. A Los Angeles native, she was trained as an art historian, taught at NYU and UCLA, and spent a decade as an art critic at the Los Angeles Times. When not writing, she volunteers as a court-appointed advocate for foster children, and loves to explore secret, forgotten, and kitschy L.A. She lives with her husband in West Hollywood.

Catch Up With Our Author On: Website 🔗, Goodreads 🔗, Twitter 🔗, & Facebook 🔗!

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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Susan Kandel and Harper Collins. There will be 5 winners of one (1) eBook copy of Dream A Little Death by Susan Kandel. The giveaway begins on May 23rd and runs through June 27th 2017

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BLOG TOUR – Dream a Little Death was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf

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