#Text change for tumbly radar

[wherefancytakesme]

Death Glare questions: Bonus! For Gift Ship Week!

I felt bad that I never got the motivation to post Death Glare stuff during that ship week, so here I am with a belated week of ship content! Starting with an additional 25 questions that I couldn’t help wanting to do! ~Little warning, guys, the last question is *sfw.~ Sources: x x

Who shops for groceries? Peepers. Hater and the watchdogs always trail along asking for this and that, much to the annoyance of the Commander.

Who comes home drunk at 3am? I imagine Hater as a man-child who won’t/isn’t aloud to so much as touch the sauce, and Peepers being the type to only drink when he’s upset, so the latter would be more likely. Still, there’s the possibility that Awesome will peer-pressure Hater into getting wasted at a party, making him come home late and acting like an idiot, which will make Peepers furious at Awesome.

Who makes breakfast? Of course it’s Peepers. Though maybe if Wander has become friends with them, he’ll be their maid (Hater’s a picky eater).

Who remembers to feed the fish? Do they have fish? There must be a tank somewhere on the ship for ambiance... If this is the case, it’ll have to be Peepers. Hater assumes fish are the types of pets you can keep for display and that don’t need caring for, despite Peepers’ constant lectures telling him otherwise as he grumbles, walking toward the tank.

Who decorates the apartment? Hater; It’s his skullship! I’m sure Peepers helped him out though so it doesn’t look as much like a 5-year-old designed it.

Who falls asleep first? Hater. We know what a workaholic Peepers is.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background? Peepers already does! You know that “Can I see your phone”/“Yeah one sec” meme? That’s how many Hater pics he has.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror? Peepers. It embarrasses Hater, but he doesn’t tell him to stop either.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts? Hater. Peepers’ gifts, like himself, are the farthest thing from cheesy.

Who initiated the first kiss? Initiated? Peepers. Hater was the one who actually did it.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning? Both, depending on their mood. Hater will mostly do it if he knows Peepers has been hurt recently.

Who starts tickle fights? It’s not very likely either of them would do it unless they were really closely enjoying eachother’s company. If so, neither is more likely than the other.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower? Hater. Peepers will want to more, but he’d be too nervous to up and ask.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch? Peepers, of course. Although, if Hater did, he might do it in a far more tsundere way, and probably only if he wanted to convey Peepers a favor.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date? Hater! Peepers was too full of rapture and near disbelief that it was actually happening!

Who kills/takes out the spiders? Peepers. He’s braver, dislikes pests more, and Hater lowkey can’t hate them when his pet is closer to a spider than anything else.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk? Hater, but only IF drunk. There’s a chance Peepers would do it sober too.

Who makes the bed in the mornings? Peepers, of course!

Who has sole possession of the T.V. remote? Hater tries to hog the remote as always, but Peepers remains the true controller.

Who stays up until 2am reading? Peepers. Hater only gets read to.

Who is the bigger cuddler? Peepers openly, Hater in secret (though he’s not very good at it).

Who does the laundry? Peepers, if the watchdogs in charge of that are indisposed.

Who mows the lawn? Peepers... while they were on Suburbon V, I guess. He’d mutter angrily about how the homeowners association is forcing the neighborhood to maintain something as stupid as a shaved patch of grass, while Hater is just littering it with decorations.

Who is better at budgeting? Of course it’s Peepers! Too bad he doesn’t often have a say...

Who instigates the s** (and who’s into the k***ier stuff)? It could be either of them, but probably most likely Hater. (Peepers, however, is a k*nk master and has a lot of them. It takes a while before he gets Hater to go past the vanilla stuff and get used to it.)

[aiekerman]

Easy - Eren Jaeger

Eren Jaeger x Reader - fluff, college!au

AN - If you saw me post this before, no you didn’t. But in actuality it is a repost I just changed it to second person oops. But anyway, hopefully anyone who sees it for the second time likes it again lol. 

(A part 2 and/or prequel does exist for this in my brain if anyone was ever interested!)

Song vibes: Easy by Troye Sivan ft. Kasey Musgraves

Summary - Just a pair of friends that definitely do not like each other. But leave their rooms at midnight for each other with no hesitation, and know each other’s food orders, and are low-key affectionate with each other.  A pair of friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: Hey :)

Eren drags his head out of his textbook as his phone goes off. Pushing stray hairs back off his forehead and out of his eyes. His tired eyes lit slightly at the sight of your name. His fingers quickly replying

Eren: Hey u

He glances at the time, 12.03 am, he frowns, worried whyyou were awake so late. Three bubbles appear on his screen as he waits for your reply to arrive.

Y/N: U up?

Eren: I’m texting u back aren’t I?

Her reply takes slightly longer this time, and his mouth crooks up at the side, picturing the eye roll you were most definitely doing.

Y/N: Shut up

You know what I mean

Eren: Yeah I’m up

Last minute studying

He pulls the phone from its charger and leans back in his chair, one foot against the desk leg and swinging back slightly. You take a little longer to reply and his eyes drift to the top of the screen where your contact picture is. His mouth betrays him again and a smile ghosts over it. 

The picture is simple. A candid of you sat proudly in front of a sandcastle you were making at the beach during spring break. Your legs splayed either side of it, covered in sand. You were smiling up at someone, probably Sasha, your hair a wavy, salty mess, blowing in the sea breeze.

Your reply finally comes, vibrating the phone in his hand and dragging him from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes at your message.

Y/N: Midnight Taco Bell run? :)

Eren: Have you been smoking?

Y/N: No I just also happen to be doing midnight work and have a craving

His fingers move to reply before another message comes through, very quickly, and he pauses.

Y/N: And I miss your dumb face

Eren: You mean my pretty face?

Y/N: I change my mind I’m asking Jean

Eren: Shut up I’m getting ready now

Y/N: :))

Eren chucks the phone over to his bed, staring at his textbook for a second. He knows he should keep studying, or better yet, go to bed. But he misses you too. He stands from the seat and shuffles around his room, quietly as possible. Armin was definitely asleep and would definitely make a dumb comment about Eren being whipped for someone he wasn’t even dating.

Eren brushes off the thought and pulls his sneakers on, swaps his gym shorts for sweatpants and scrapes his hair back into the best bun he can manage. 

After wandering out of his room he grabs his keys and wallet from by the door and shuts it over with the quietest click he can manage. 

On his walk to his car he sends one more text.

Eren: Getting in the car now

Eren: I’ll be like 10 mins

Y/N: I’ll be the cute one in pyjamas ;)

He laughs at the flirtatious message before switching on his car and driving off. 

His mind doubles back to what would be Armin’s comments on the situation. They weren’t dating, but flirting between friends was entirely normal. He shakes off feeling the need to justify his relationship with you. You were friends, best friends. That almost hooked up once. The first time you met. But now you were just friends.

Before he even realises it he’s pulling up at the kerb by your building, his eyes glancing up to the door and watching a shadowy figure emerge. His head leans back against the headrest when her form comes into the dim street lights.

You’re dressed the same as him, sweatpants hugging your hips and an oversized hoodie drowning your top half. He squints for a second, was that his hoodie? Nah, it probably wasn’t, you had similar taste in hoodies anyway. You push the hood back when you reach the car, a mess of hair tumbling out around your face. It resembled a bedhead, but he knew you well enough to conclude you’d been sleepily running hands through it all night to make the mess. Tugging at the roots in efforts to stay focused on whatever it was you were working on.

You tug the door open and pull yourself into the seat. Situating yourself before turning to him and pushing your glasses up her nose, foregoing contacts at this hour, ‘Hi.’

He smiles down at your smaller form, ‘Hey you.’

‘Let’s get going.’

He raises an eyebrow at you, watching you slide down in the seat. Your eyes are wide as you stare back, ‘What?’

‘Seatbelt.’

You roll your eyes and push yourself back up, reaching for the seatbelt, ‘Yes, mother.’

Hearing the belt click in place he pulls off, satisfied with your safety being secured.

You grab his phone from the cupholder, and push it under his face slightly, not obstructing his view but close enough for him to give it a quick glance and unlock his face ID for you. You start scrolling spotify and find your combined playlist, made with midnight food runs in mind. RnB starts flowing out of his speakers.

Dropping the phone back in the cupholder you turn to look at his profile, ‘So what you been studying for?’

‘Psychology final, not until next week but after I kinda bombed the midterm I don’t wanna be caught off guard. You?’

‘Final project is due in two weeks. I’ve kinda got it finished but I’m not sure.’

He smiles, knowing you were just being a perfectionist about it.

‘Am I gonna get to read it?’

‘Why do you want to?’ You laugh at him, looking over at his profile that was focused on the road ahead, but seeing his lip was pulled up in a smirk.

‘Cause you haven’t shut up about it all year, I wanna know if all the support snacks I’ve bought you have been worth it.’

You scrunch up your face and shove it down into the hoodie you were adorned in. It smelt like Eren. Wait, was this his hoodie?

‘Huh, nothing to say back?’ His grin is too smug as he steals a look at you. You glare up at him, ‘Shut up.’ 

Silence settles over you in the last minutes before you approach the destination. You push yourself up to sit when the glowing sign comes into view, your eyes lighting up again.

‘Drive thru or sit in?’ Eren questions, approaching slowly as he waits for an answer.

‘Sit in, please.’ He nods before swinging into a parking spot.

You both jump out and Eren rounds the car to your side, bumping you with his hip in greeting now you were out of the car. His hands are stuffed in his pockets but you grab hold of his sweatshirt sleeve gently as you start joking about how you had to sneak out without setting off Sasha’s food radar.

Inside you bounce ahead of him slightly, up to one of the self serve screens and start ordering. He smiles softly at how you had to shuffle the too-long hoodie sleeve up to let your hand emerge.

He comes behind you and places his chin on top of your head, watching as you confidently tapped at the different items.

‘You haven’t asked what I wanted yet.’ 

‘I know your Taco Bell order, idiot.’

‘Maybe I want something different this time.’

‘No you don’t.’

The screen goes black for a second while loading the checkout and he glances at your reflection. You push your glasses up your nose, looking up and sticking your tongue out at him when you see his eyes already on you. 

He smiles before ruffling at your already messy hair and standing back to pull out his wallet. Glancing up, he catches you doing the same and suddenly moves quicker, as do you. Whipping out his bank card and reaching around you to tap it on the terminal, the familiar beep of a successful transaction going off before you can push your card in the bottom slot.

Eren grins in triumph while you stuff your wallet back in the hoodie and grumble, ‘Stupid contactless card.’

You pull the receipt from the machine while he walks over towards a booth, dropping into the seat and stretching his legs out while watching you.

Your hands are shoved into the hoodie, you sway and shuffle around on you feet. Standing still was never one of your strong suits. 

A smile takes over Eren’s face as you yawn and rubs at your eyes, pulling the hood up over your head and pulling at the strings slightly. He chuckles at the image of your head being swallowed. You turn at the sound and frown at him, mouthing out ‘don’t laugh at me.’ Prompting his laughter to continue on.

He settles back in the booth when their number is called and you wander up to accept the tray of food.

Dropping yourself down across from him, the two of you automatically begin splitting out their food, almost instinctively knowing which packages were for who; Eren always had the nachos, you never deviated from fries. 

You ate in silence for just a moment before you pick up conversation again, ‘Are you gonna go to Jean’s party after finals?’

‘So bold of you to assume Jean could pull off a decent party without me.’ He smiled, stuffing a bite of his burrito in his mouth as you giggle. ‘What about you?’

‘I mean yeah probably, if everyone else is going.’

‘Well, Jean has got me and Connie roped in to help with set up, so Connie will make Sasha go, and Sasha will make Mikasa go, who will make Armin go, who will make sure I don’t flake off early and I’ll make sure you stay.’

‘Connie and I.’ You correct, reaching for your drink.

‘Shut up.’

‘Also, Eren Jaeger flaking early from a party is wholeheartedly unheard of.’

‘I left the last one early because someone needed to be walked home after throwing up.’

You pause with the straw at your mouth, eyes narrowing in a glare. 

‘You can’t get too messy this time anyway. Bertolt is gonna be there.’

You scrunch up your face in confusion, ‘Why’d you say his name like that.’

‘Because, you haven’t got laid since spring break, he’s cute and you said you guys have gotten super close from your fiction writing class.’

You roll your eyes at the tall boy’s explanation and shrug, ‘He’s kinda cute. I guess. And we haven’t gotten super close, we barely knew each other before the class.’

‘Exactly, he’s at perfect arm’s length for a hook up. You deserve it after all the stressing you’ve done this semester.’

You shrug again. Setting your drink back on the table and leaning back, your feet stretching out to bump against Eren’s, you think about it.

Eren watches you, yourr eyes staring out into space. Bertolt was cute, he didn’t get around that much from what Eren had heard of the boy, but he was sweet enough that he knew he could trust him with you, even just for a night.

But even as he looked you over, dark circles beginning to shadow under your eyes, figure swamped in your loungewear and hot sauce staining one edge of your mouth. You were way out of Bertolt’s league.

‘You’re probably way too good for him anyway.’

‘Even just for a hookup?’ Your eyes meet his green ones, your mouth showing a teasing smile starting to form.

He stuffs more burrito in his mouth and nods.

‘You think I’m too good for everyone.’

He swallows and reaches for his drink, ‘cause you are.’

‘Was I too good for you, is that why you didn’t have sex with me?’ You start grinning and laughing as he chokes on his drink. He leans an elbow on the table as he coughs, glaring at you through his lashes.

Eren sticks a hand out at you and gestures for you to cough it up. You pull a dollar from your wallet and stuffs it in his hand.

He imagines it’s the same dollar he gave you last week after he joked about your almost hook up. The metaphorical ‘don’t talk about the time we almost had sex’ jar was essentially the same dollar passed back and forth.

‘Was that one worth it?’ He raises an eyebrow at your giggling face as you reaches to open your crunchwrap, nodding in a satisfied manner.

You hold the hexagonal taco in your small hands and Eren chuckles. You eye him, taking your first bite and speaking out a muffled, ‘What?’

‘Your tiny hands always make those things look huge.’

‘Maybe your meaty boy’s hands just make it look small.’

He sticks a hand out in front of you, palm spread out to show the full size, ‘My hands are not meaty. And they’re no bigger than average.’

‘What are you talking about?’ You mirror him, lifting your hand to press a palm against his, the tips of your fingers just brushing above the second knuckle. 

‘Your hands are just tiny.’

‘No, they only look small because yours are huge.’

You both fall silent, two sets of eyes trained on your pressed together hands. Eren ignores the feel of his heart pounding up against his chest.

What was wrong? They’d held hands before? 

The ring of your phone blaring out an alarm drew both of them from the trance. Eren slid his fingers to interlock with your’s, playfully pushing your hand back towards your body.

‘Who’s calling you at this hour?’

‘No one, I, uh, I set an alarm for one thirty am. Otherwise we’d sit here all night, knowing the two of us.’

He lets out a small laugh, nods in agreement and starts to gather up your trash. His eyes run over your face just before standing, choosing not to make fun of the blush gracing your cheeks.

You stand and fall in stride next to him, bumping his hips with your own and poking his side, ‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Got your eye on anyone for Jean’s party?’

‘Nah, I’d rather just chill. I’ll probably spend half the night making sure Jean stays relatively sober for his own party.’ You laugh at the idea, nodding your head fervently. Jean usually ended up the messiest of the bunch.

The exit into the cold night air, and your body is immediately taken over with shivers. Eren rolls his eyes but loops an arm around your shoulder, his own body a constant furnace. You hum in appreciation, leaning into his side as he rubs at your arm.

Climbing into the car, he blasts the heat. This time you pull on your seatbelt with no need for prompting, your head turning to stare up at him, the raise of her eyebrows translating to You happy?

He stays quiet, pulling on a cheesy grin that answers back, Very.

You flop back into your seat, a yawn overtaking you and the heat of the car soothing you The effort to keep your eyes open immediately doubled.

‘You can close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get to your building.’

You look at him with a sorry expression, ‘But I dragged you out I shouldn’t-’

‘Sleep, idiot,’ he cuts you off, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to run over your hair, long fingers running through it. Always a surefire way to make you sleepy.

You drift off quickly, a smile softly laid on your cheeks.

Eren feels his heart beating hard once again. He swallows it down. Focuses on the road. Just friends was easier.

[babylooneytoonz]

Warnings: These two just can't stop fighting // them being adorable // poor jokes

Please find all the other links to other parts in the Master list.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for probably the tenth time. Were you looking trashy ? Not really. You ran your hands through your hair, ruffling them up just the right amount so that they looked bouncy as your fingers moved on to the lipstick. Were you looking just too plain? You groaned at youself for probably the twentieth time, but this time you grabbed the red lipstick. It was a bold choice, red lipstick, a plaid checkered shirt, and a pencil jeans, not to forget your heels, that you never really wore. 

"Damn girl, you really look great," Wanda tossed herself against your mattress, her eyes plastered on you. "Lucah will go crazy, I tell you." 

"How do you even know this guy again?" You raised your eyebrow, looking at her through your mirror, as you slid your glasses back on and scanned at yourself one last time. 

"He was Pietro's bestfriend." 

You noticed Wanda zone out, probably lost in some old memories. You knew memories were bitches; so it was better not to scratch them up, so you decided to change the topic. 

"Is he hot?" 

"Smokin'." Wanda smirked, propping herself up as she walked up to you, "Think a strong , muscular back, veiny arms, the guy can flex, sandy blond hair." 

"Jeez, I can really picture Steve right now." 

Your words were enough to send Wanda into a snort, followed by a carefree laugh as she shook her head. 

"Na, Steve is more, I don't know, decent looking? Lucah, I'd say he's 21st century, Steve likes jazz, Lucah likes R&B. They're like poles apart?" 

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but since you already texted him three times just to make sure he arrived on time to pick me up, I'm sure the guy is probably waiting for me right now." You grinned, grabbing your purse. As if on cue, Friday's voice rang through your room, informing you that your date had arrived downstairs to pick you up and Wanda's grin just widened.

"I'll see you later, babe, have fun." She winked teasingly and you gave her a last smile before you practically ran out towards the elevator. 

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Wanda was right, the guy looked handsome. He was just the right amount of handsome, and you did look good when you sat clinging to him while he rode his motorcycle through town, all the efforts you had put into setting your hair down the drain. He had complimented you, the first thing he saw you, how beautiful you were, and who were you kidding, it had been ages someone had said that, and you were already blushing a scarlet red. When he asked you if you had something planned out for the day for you had already communicated through Wanda that you were planning the date this time, you gave him a tight lipped smile. 

Thus, the two of you found yourselves seated at an open air cafe that was directly in front of the entrance of the movie theater, on the opposite side of the road.

So far, the date wasn't going good. Of course, you were sitting there, right across from him, giving him the most bored looks ever. Not that he was bad, maybe you just weren't feeling it, or you had been off the market and under the radar for so long, you had forgotten what made a date a really fabulous date. Also, your eyes found themselves trailing over the cineplex doors, wondering when the afternoon show of the only movie that was playing there today will get over. 

"So, Y/N, the Avengers huh? How does it feel to be one of them?" Lucah just said, trying to lighten up the weirdness that was already bubbling up inside of you. On the table, in front of you, your untouched plate of fries, and a cappuccino lay, while he was happily gobbling up the nachos, at a pace much faster than yours. 

Your breath left your lips rather loudly, when you finally saw the doors open, and people started to tumble out, discussing the movie and mostly critiquing it. 

"Hey, are you listening -" 

Your eyes lit up in excitement, when you saw just the people your eyes had been waiting to see, followed by an obvious scowl that crept up on your lips. Bucky had his arm wrapped around her still, and although he didn't appear to be smiling, he wasn't frowning either, so you assumed that he did have a good time, except for when he looked at her with slight irritation when she would bring up her palm, holding two popcorns between her fingers as she tried feeding him. 

"Cringy as fuck," you blurted out in a low annoyed voice, and Lucah just looked at you, his frown now obvious as he turned to follow your gaze to look at what you were looking at, or who.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Life of an Avenger, I meant." 

He nodded and sat back, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure suddenly why he was even here, and hadn't he left already. Although you were pretty, he was sure of that, he didn't really seem to find you interesting and you only seemed like you were distracted, looking around, not even having your fries, that laid abandoned on the table. 

Suddenly, Bucky's eyes, like a magnet flew towards you, but you at the right time, you turned your gaze away, fixing it on Lucah and leaned forward, reaching out and placing your palm on his hand that was laying on the table. You threw out the sauciest smiles that you could, parting your lips, your tongue sneaking out and moistening your lower lip. Slowly, you stood up and cleared your throat, you knew that Bucky was watching you now, you could feel his burning gaze on you. 

You walked over to where Lucah was seated, round the table; and boy, did he look scared at what you were going to do, and not to mention, totally confused. You didn't understand what got into you, it was like you were suddenly on fire, and you wanted to put on a good show, for Bucky's eyes. You lowered yourself on Lucah's lap, his arm snaking around your waist in reflex. He didn't push you away, he was so startled, and even before he could push you away, you didn't give him the time; you smashed your lips against his, leaning down on him, your nails almost digging into his shoulder, your other hand holding him by his head, your fingers matted into his hair. 

Bucky kept watching, from afar. His eyes had darkened two shades, and his face had a look, a look that said, if anyone would even dare mess with him now, he would rip them apart into pieces. He let out a frustrated grunt, and the woman next to him stopped blabbering and looked at him, frowning at his sudden outburst. 

"Let's go and eat at that cafe, I'm starving," Bucky grumbled, under his voice, grabbing the woman's hand and walking her towards the open roof cafe, eyeing the table just next to yours. 

As Bucky and the woman passed you by, he intentionally cleared his throat so loudly, you had to break your kiss, but the smug smirk on your lips meant that you knew that what you wanted to do had had the desirable effect on him, and that was what made you feel even more better. 

"Well, that was nice," You brought your palm up to Lucah's cheeks, your thumb grazing against the stain that your ravaged lipstick had left against his soft, plump ones. You finally stood up again, straightening your dress, and running your hands through your hair until you walked back to your chair, sliding down against it. Your breathing was hitched, your ears felt warm, and your cheeks were heating up. 

"I don't get it these days, with people and their cheap, corny as fuck public display of affection." Bucky suddenly began, causing you and Lucah to snap your head towards the table next to you; your eyes narrowed. Bucky just sat there, lounging against the back of the chair, sipping on some soda through the straw, his eyes fixed on the blonde. 

"Well, excuse me but are you talking about-" Lucah began to speak in a low voice, but you cut him off, reaching oit for Lucah, until you had taken his hand, your fingers coiled with his. 

"You know some people are just so closed off, they would suck at this PDA thing, and knowing they can't do it, they just like to comment on others," you said those words loud enough so Bucky could hear them, and then you grabbed a fry, tossing it into your mouth, sitting back more comfortably. If anyone could see the scene unfurl, it would have been hilarious to watch. 

"Maybe we just have more class, and prefer to fool around at more private places." 

If you had eyes on your side, you would sure have seen the widest smirk on Bucky's face. But even without taking a look at him, you knew he was smirking.

"Private places? Like what? The back of a theater? Who even does that? What are you? Like 16? Get a room," you snapped. 

"Well, you have a room, but do you have a partner to share it with?" 

Before you could come back with a reply to what Bucky had just said, your eyes skid to where Lucah was. He had stood up, making a ruckus with his chair, to snap you out of whatever you had going on. He cleared his throat, slammed a few notes for the date on the table, and walked off, his leather jacket dangling from his shoulder. He, however, made his way to the blonde sitting opposite Bucky, who had a clear scowl on her face. 

"Maybe you would like to get another table? And we could just leave them alone?" 

"Yeah, I'd like that," the woman stood up, clearly giving Bucky the cold shoulder and she unzipped her purse, and pulled out a few dollars, almost throwing them into Bucky's face. He was taken aback, and was ready to say something to her, when you suddenly called out, "Hey blondie, you do realize that metal arm can choke you right? And I'm not talking about choking you in bed. The guy took you to the movies, the least you can do is be a little respectful." 

Their heavy footsteps vanished away; and you finally craned your neck towards Barnes, your eyes finally meeting his. He had an amused look playing on his face. It wasn't a smirk, but it wasn't a smile either. It was a mix of them both. 

"What?" You mumbled, in a low voice, reaching out and grabbing your fry.

"Mhm, nothing, just wondering why you defended me." 

Another fry was awkwardly stuffed into your mouth, followed by a sip of your cappuccino. 

"So I could be the one to insult you the next time." 

A silence fell on the two of you and now, you averted your eyes. You didn't want to look at him, so now you didn't know what he was doing, or what he was probably thinking. You could hear him aimlessly tapping his palm against the table but the sound suddenly stopped. You heard him stand up, and then he moved to the chair that laid abandoned in front of you, pulling it out and propping himself down against it. 

"Well, it's just the two of us now, and that's a lot of fries, you sure you can eat them alone?" Your lips twitched, but you bit on your tongue to control yourself from giving him the widest smile that you could give him, as you saw his hand inching towards your plate. You swatted his hand with yours at the exact time he grabbed a fry, but he was fast, he had already pulled back and pushed the fry into his mouth. 

"Don't put your fingers into my fries, I don't even want to think about the places your, uh, fingers have been while back at the movies." You made a gagging face, and Bucky's face turned red for a second, and he just started coughing, and grinning at the same time. 

"We were watching Wall-E." 

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's-"

"The only place my fingers were was into the bucket of caramel popcorn. Who the hell prefers caramel anyway?"

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"I can't believe it," you smirked; almost widening your eyes in the most dramatic way while Bucky just rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking at you. "You've been fucking around with that one for weeks, and you've not even asked her what her name was?" 

"She did tell me her name, I just forget. It was Maggie or Pastry, I don't even remember. Who the hell is even called Pastry?" 

"Barnes, my cat's name was Pastry, are you fucking saying it wasn't a good name?" 

"For a human, not a cat." He just smirked, leaning forward. 

You were sitting on a swing, your heels laying abandoned next to where Bucky sat on a bench, from where he could see you; your feet grazing against the dew on the grass. It was pretty late at night, well not that late, but it was almost dinnertime. 

"Who the hell named you Bucky? You don't even have buck teeth." 

"Really? Was that supposed to be a joke?" He smirked, leaning forward, his elbows resting against his knees, his hair falling against his eyes. 

"Yeah well, you know. Bucky, buck teeth, it rhymes?" Maybe it was the two bottles of beer that the two of you had, but it annoyed you how he was in his complete senses and here you were, making weird cringy jokes that didn't even make sense. 

"I thought you hated me." 

You stopped swinging abruptly, when you heard him, his words slowly sinking him. Groaning to yourself, you stood up, and walked up to where he was, lowering yourself next him to him, staring at the swing that was still moving lightly. 

"You give yourself too much importance, Barnes. Besides, you started this whole thing in the first place." 

You couldn't see his expressions now, but you could feel him lost in a deep thinking. At a slow pace, you turned your head to face him and you saw that he was staring at the starry sky, thinking. 

"I don't get it. You're a freaking super soldier, you're supposed to be strong, and you're supposed to be pain tolerant, and you whined about me burning your fucking abs for days." 

He suddenly snapped his head towards you, whatever he was thinking before this now abandoned. His eyes were narrowed, and his lip almost twitched, in annoyance before he grumbled, "that was my favourite tshirt. And besides, I was sort of having a bad day." 

You stood up, turning around so you were now looking down at him, a frown having paved it's way over your forehead and your hands fixed on your hips. 

"You fucked with my mind, you made me look like a freaking joke in front of Steve, just because you had a fucking bad day?" 

He shook his head, almost grumbling under his breath, wondering why he had let you drink. 

"And who do you think you were back at that simulation training?" 

"Well that was different- " 

"How? Care to explain?" 

You couldn't believe it, the nerves on this man. You almost gasped, taking a step away from him, draping your arms over your chest. 

"You knew what clearing that certification meant to me."

"Well, doll. Being an Avenger means everyone fends for themselves; it was a fair fight, but you didn't want to play fair, and that's your fault." 

While Bucky just deadpanned, his face giving you a look of disapproval, you just curled your lips into a snicker, almost throwing your head backwards, so you could let out a laugh. 

"Look who's talking." 

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Bucky shrugged. 

"How fair would you think messing with someone's weights at the gym is?" 

Now it was your turn to smirk, and your smirk even widened when you saw a sudden look of discomfort flash against the man's face, which he quickly masked by pulling on his cold and emotionless expression, "I don't understand." 

"Sam told me, you prick. You messed with my weights, you wanted to get back at me. Don't you dare tell me this was all my fault. When I just wanted to fucking make things right." 

"Yeah, make things right? I can see how you made things right." His knuckles cracked, and his jaw squared, as he towered over you. 

"Well, I would've, if you weren't busy getting into that bitch's pants, whatever her name was." 

"Pastry." 

"You've gotta be kidding me, who the fuck names a child Pastry?" 

Bucky sighed, for probably the tenth time, and ran his fingers through his hair. Women, they always suprised him; and the women he met, they were all different and unique in the most weird ways, like this one standing right in front of him. She was just plain weird, and psychotic. But he couldn't deny, even with her weird psychotic ways, she was slowly growing on him. 

"The point is?" He raised a brow. 

"Well, the point is, Sergeant, I came to your room, to make this right. But you were so excited to go on this lousy date." 

"You really hate that I went on a date with her right? Why don't you go on a real date with me then?" 

His palms grabbed your arms, and he pulled you closer, his blues staring into your (Y/E/C). 

You swallowed the bile in your throat, and parted your lips. Words wouldn't come out though, it was as though your throat had constricted and you couldn't speak. You were like a ferocious animal cornered, you wanted to bite but you couldn't, so you just gave him a glare, furrowing your brows, and flaring your nostrils just a bit. 

"Atleast be a man and kiss me when I know you're dying to do it for a long time, Barnes." 

"You've gotta be kidding-" 

Bucky couldn't complete his sentence; not when you had smashed your lips against his surprisingly soft ones. He tasted like peppermint, and cinnamon, a taste you could not put a name to, but whatever it was, it was just right. 

You finally pulled away, almost gasping for air, and the expression on Bucky's face was just priceless. His jaw slightly hung, and you could see that his lips were parted, confusion reflecting in his expressions. But at the same time, his cheeks had a faint tint of red, and he licked his lips, relishing in the aftermath of the kiss. 

You took a step away, and turned around, casually skipping along the grass, until you were down on the swing again, and he just kept staring at you. 

You really were the weirdest one he had met. 

"Oh, and bdw, I know you checked out my ass that day at the gym. Hope you liked it." 

If you could compare Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes face with a tomato, you wouldn't have been able to decide which one was redder. 

(Author's Note- I am so sorry this was so long! I was practically giggling when I wrote this chapter. They remind me so much of Tom & Jerry, I just can't. 🤣Anyway, I hope you guys liked this. 💗 )

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@janajjj

@chipilerendi

@nyotamalfoy

@skittychat

Want to be added to my taglist? Please fill up a form on this link. 💗

[cannebady]

An obligatory Good Omens New Year’s Eve ficlet. Enjoy!

Here on AO3!

I realized that I need you, and I wondered if I could come home 

It ended up bring a surprise visit. With the lockdowns continuing through most of the year, Aziraphale had been stubbornly dedicated to leading by example and had refused Crowley on several occasions when he’d offered to keep him company. It was the right decision, Crowley supposed. While neither angel nor demon could get sick or transmit it to others, humans were always looking for a loophole to skirt the rules and, although Crowley would usually go out of his way to encourage them, this was starting to remind him all too much of his least favorite centuries so he didn’t push too hard.

The other benefit, was that the distance pushed Aziraphale to actually use the mobile Crowley had bought him months before all hell (side eye heavily implied) broke loose, which allowed them to communicate almost constantly. As it turns out, alcohol and texting really can be revealing and they’d continued to move, albeit at a glacial pace, towards something more.

This is all, however, a moot point because Crowley woke up on the 31st of December and immediately thought, “Ah, fuck it.” He donned his mask (not that he needs it, but it sets a good example and is a solid Look™) and drove on over to Soho to surprise an angel.

When he knocked at the bookshop door, he could already feel the air of displeasure coming from inside. He smirked, only visible by the crinkling at the corner of one eye. Lockdowns had allowed Aziraphale’s already shoddy business hours to become almost nonexistent, something the angel had nearly unbridled joy for.

When the door opened, he had to rein in actual tears of relief. He knew he missed Aziraphale something fierce, but actually seeing him made the wreck of Crowley’s heart swell and squeeze in a way he wasn’t used to.

Donning a pearlescent white mask that was very likely not of this world in origin, storm blue eyes connected with his and Crowley was warmed through to see the same, lovely, overwhelmed feeling mirrored back to him.

“My dear,” Aziraphale had whispered, looking Crowley over, “what are you doing here? It isn’t safe!”

Crowley, tired of waiting on the step while they goggled at each other, pushed inside while Aziraphale closed the door, locking it for good measure. “Well hello to you too, angel. Long time, no see.”

He snapped his fingers to place his mask in a pocket universe (he’s a bit embarrassed to admit that his earthly pockets wouldn’t exactly hold much more than his fingertips) and took care of Aziraphale’s as well.

“Crowley, we discussed this! I miss you terribly, of course I do, but we can’t just go breaking the rules willy-nilly!”

A year ago Crowley would’ve rolled his eyes at “willy-nilly”, but right now? Well, right now he’s so entranced he can’t breathe, never mind scoff.

“Angel-” He breaks off because there’s so much he wants to say, but Aziraphale is beautiful. He’s known it since Eden, but this is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other in quite some time and he’s obsessing over the few extra inches of white blonde curls, not to mention the couple of extra inches on well-fed hips (courtesy of quarantine baking and fewer walks in parks, and for that Crowley would just like to say thank you), that are both likely to send Crowley into hysterics if he thinks about them too long.

“M’sorry angel, I just-” he sighs, “I know it’s wrong I just couldn’t wait longer. I can go, if you’d like.” He looks down, he’s not as sure that Aziraphale will kick him out as he once had been, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to watch it happen.

What he misses, is the very obvious once-over Aziraphale gives to his messy, much longer, curls and the longing look that speaks to ages of desire to cross those last few feet between them.

“Nonsense, my dear. You’re right, we cannot make this worse and you took precautions.” Crowley lifts his eyes to meet Aziraphale’s and is met with a brilliant smile. “And, of course, I am so happy to see you dearest.”

Dearest. Aziraphale called him that sometimes via text but this is the first time he’d heard it out loud. He was more attached to it than he’d like to examine.

“Well, in that case, I believe the humans have a tradition on this day that involves both day drinking and regular drinking.” He miracles a few choice vintages and a lovely bottle of Whispering Angel, because he’s still an arsehole sometimes, onto the table in the back room.

“If it’s tradition I suppose we must.” Aziraphale says with a smirk that’s not angelic at all.

Perhaps, Crowley thinks as Aziraphale leads him back to the squashy, infernally comfortable couch in the back room, this year may just end better than it started.

It’s been hours. They made it through Crowley’s initial bottles and have moved on decidedly to Aziraphale’s own, not inconsiderable, reserves. They’re encroaching on drunken territory they haven’t traversed since Armageddon first fell on their radar but this time, it’s so much better.

They’re laughing wildly while Aziraphale recounts, with requisite demonstrations, how he learned the gavotte and Crowley’s laughing so hard that his stomach hurts. He’s warm, and they’re safe together, and Aziraphale has a lovely blush high on his cheeks and Crowley’s sure he has the same, and he can’t remember being this happy for a long, long time.

“And, and-,” the angel trails off for a moment, “I couldn’t quite remember which way to turn,” he pantomimes turning in a graceless circle, “so I just, well, I rather tumbled directly into a bookshelf and realized I’d imbibed a bit too much.”

He looks at Crowley pointedly while he tries to smother a cackle. “You know, it’s not entirely dissimilar to now. I fear I’m quite completely rat-arsed.”

Crowley’s control breaks and he laughs loud and long while Aziraphale blushes more and then joins him, because they’re both completely arseholed and they have been during every century since the Beginning.

A glance at the clock shows it’s only a short time until the clock ticks over into the next year and a pit forms in Crowley’s stomach. He doesn’t want to lose this easy camaraderie and the soft love he’s feeling (it is love, he’s known it for a long time, and has accepted it for long enough) and he isn’t sure if he’ll be permitted to stay. There’s also a part of him that, for several decades now, has dreamed about employing another human tradition surrounding New Year’s Eve, but he’s even less sure of its welcome.

Aziraphale catches his eyeline and looks towards the old grandfather clock, obviously seeing the change is Crowley’s bright disposition.

“Not long now, it would seem.” He says quietly.

“Not long at all and we’ll be singing Auld Lang Syne and bidd-”, Crowley stops, his throat choking up.

“And what, dear?” Aziraphale thinks he knows where this was headed. Thinks he knows that the complicated string of emotions is on Crowley’s beloved face. He thinks he might just see everything he wants in arms reach of taking.

Crowley’s eyes are fully yellow, goldenrod and gorgeous, dark with drink or something more when he looks up to meet Aziraphale’s own. “I-, angel. Would I, ngk, what would you say if I stayed for a bit? Kept you company?”

He drops his head down again. Aziraphale hates that he looks like he’s bracing for bad news. Perhaps he has not done as well as he thought in letting Crowley know that the door was wide open now. Frankly off its hinges. Perhaps it’s time for extraordinary measures.He closes the distance between them, sitting next to the demon on the couch.

“Dearest, I think I’d like nothing more.” He reaches out and cups Crowley’s sharp jaw, tilting his head so that he can look into those stunning eyes again. He runs his thumb along his cheekbone and hears the sharp inhale.

This is the most skin-to-skin contact they’ve had since the Roman baths (there was an awkward side hug at one point that Crowley thought may actually discorporate him). But now, the simple contact of those soft, plump fingers on his jaw and his cheek are about to send him to his maker.

“Angel,” he reaches up and lays his hand over Aziraphale’s. Little to their knowledge, they’ve begun a countdown all their own. “are you sure?”

“I’m positive darling. Let me show you.” Aziraphale responds, allowing his thump to dip and run along Crowley’s luscious bottom lip. “Can I show you?”

“Please, angel”, Crowley nearly sobs and kind, giving, gracious Aziraphale takes a brief inhale of his own before laying his lips against the demon’s.

Crowley’s never really done this before. Sure there were humans here and there that thought to lay one on him, but he’s never taken the time to think about it. Why are lips so bloody sensitive? He thinks before he stops possessing higher order functioning and has only a mind to get Aziraphale closer, right the fuck now.

He reaches out and drags his hands down Aziraphale’s arms (both angelic hands now buried in his hair), delighting at the honest to God whimper he gets in response, and lets one hand tangle in ice blonde curls longer than he’s ever seen them, and lets the other drift from shoulder to waist, and finally to land on an ample hip that fits so perfectly into his hand that he thinks he might cry.

Their lips refuse to part and before long it’s gone from gently exploratory, to open and hot, tongues running along lips, tangling together, allowing them to taste each other for the first time.

They break apart briefly, speaking so close that each word is a sweet caress on the other’s lips; a placeholder while they work out their thoughts.

Aziraphale takes it upon himself to take the plunge here too, “I love you. I have loved you for so long that I don’t know what it is not to love you. I fear I was quiet for too long, but I will no longer abide. I will tell you I love you each time I think about how much I love you, until you’re sick to death of hearing it.”

While breathing is an option for both, Crowley is nearly hyperventilating. He thought, perhaps, Aziraphale may think of trying something with him. May even want to try out some more, erm, intimate, acts with him as the angel is always in such a rage for pleasure. But he never guessed that the haunting, creation-long devotion he felt would be reciprocated in the same way.

“Oh angel, I love you. I met you on the wall of Eden and thought ‘Oh, what’s that in my chest?’ and realized they didn’t take my heart when I Fell. I’m yours, if you’ll have me, if you’ll be mine as well.”

“Dearest, I’ve been yours for some time now.” And then words really aren’t important any more as Crowley lunges, pushing Aziraphale back into the squashy couch and running his hands over his coveted softness while angelic hands map his neck and his back and, Christ, his arse.

While the world nervously looks to a new year for peace and solice, two celestial beings have found it, at long last, right at home.

[retrievablememories]

dress it up | taeyong

title: dress it up pairing: taeyong x black!reader genre: fluff? request: “Hello I sent this request a couple weeks ago right when request followed I just wanted to resend since it’s open again ❤️: I was wondering if you could write with something with taeyong and a black oc. I really like taeyong’s sense of style and I feel like he’d be a great brand ambassador. I was thinking something about him and reader meeting at like a fashion show.” word count: 3.6k warnings: some cursing, a lil vulgar language, some alcohol use a/n: i don’t have a clue how the fashion industry works and got most of my research from a cosmopolitan article, but here’s my take on it 🤡 i struggled with how to approach the plot and feel like it might be a little dry? so i apologize if it’s lacking :/

“This year’s fashion show is going to be interesting, I think. I heard a few of those guys from NCT are coming.” Your friend Diana comes over to the couch where you’re sitting and tumbles over the back of it, landing halfway in your lap. You shout as she does, narrowly avoiding spilling your bowl of cereal.

“NCT? Which ones?” You try to crowd closer to her phone to see if it has the answers; she’s been unable to come away from it for the last half-hour. She twists away from you so you won’t be able to see the screen, but it’s a little too late for that. “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re texting that idiot again. I thought you said you were done with him.”

“Don’t worry about that.” She chuckles nervously. “Anyway, it’s not 100% confirmed yet, but some of the reports have mentioned there’s gonna be Taeyong...ain’t he the leader or something like that?” 

“I’m sure. Didn’t you know? I think he might be the same one who’s been on Melanie’s radar for a bit...”

“Melanie?” Diana’s head springs up from the couch cushion.

You nudge her and laugh. “Don’t look so shocked, she makes good choices sometimes.”

The other girl shakes her head. “Huh. I highly doubt it. The last few models she scouted were major divas and you know this. Who is going to sit all day and pick all the M&Ms out of trail mix? I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit.”

“Either way, keep looking. Whether you hate her choices or not, we’re still gonna need some fresh faces for this new ad campaign.”

Diana sighs and waves her hand. “I got it.”

“You should probably make sure you find more prospects this time, too. Jasmine was tryna throw shade last time because she had, like, 2 more than you.”

“Oh girl, fuck that. No one cares if you have more prospects if they’re all a bunch of Insta influencers and bored rich kids who bought their way onto the runway.”

You both laugh out loud at that, though Diana’s quickly distracted again when she gets a message. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget about you and your man troubles, either. You need to leave that clown alone,” you say, pushing her off as you get up to go to the kitchen.

“Whatever! Just let me have my fun, it ain’t nothing serious.”

The day of the show is hectic, though that’s expected. There’s always someone—or a group of someones—running around like a chicken with their head cut off with how much work there is to do, getting people in their right seats and making sure the models are dressed properly.

You, Melanie, and Diana try to stick together for the most part, though Melanie quickly makes Diana weary with her nonstop talking. Jasmine is nowhere to be found, but you know she’s there somewhere. She got the same invite the rest of you did.

“Liza is gonna be pissed if Jasmine doesn’t show up,” Melanie comments. “Can’t get a good story with no editors on the job.”

“Are you not an editor anymore, then?” Diana says, unamused. “We’re here, too. We don’t need that girl to do our own jobs.”

Melanie sighs. “Well, I’m just saying...”

“Calm down,” you tell Diana. “We’ll do fine either way. See, this is what happens when you don’t listen to me; you’ve let this bum dude get you all wound up.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t start that here, let’s just find our seats.”

The three of you sit a little further back in the crowd with the rest of the editors, bloggers, and whoever else has come to get the scoop. The more famous people—aka, the celebrities and fashion designers—sit near the front for all to see. It’s like watching a bunch of pretty, puffed-up peacocks strut around and mingle together. Some of them clearly want to be noticed even more than the models, though all the attention they get isn’t the favorable kind.

Melanie makes an excited noise next to you, and  Diana looks to see what’s reacting to, then perks up herself. “Look, there they are.” Diana nearly has to shout in your ear over the noise, nodding her head in a direction several feet away from your group. Just as she’s said, there is Taeyong, Jaehyun, Mark, and Yuta walking to their seats.

“Yep, that’s them,” you reply. “Are you gonna go talk to them after the show?”

“Me!? That might be better suited for you guys,” Diana says, looking at you and Melanie nervously. You laugh at her sudden change in demeanor.

“Come on. What’s wrong? They’re just men, and we’ve worked with plenty of attractive clients before.”

“I know, but…” Diana trails off, a skeptical expression written all over her face. “They’re just, uh, way prettier than I expected them to be. It’s a bit shocking.” You snort at that.

“You can’t be serious.”

Melanie rolls her eyes at the indecisiveness. “I will gladly do it if neither of you will.”

“I never said I wouldn’t,” you interject. “Just let me and Melanie handle the kpop idols and you can talk to the Instagram influencers who work your nerves so much.” You laugh, and Diana sighs, crossing her legs.

“Sure, sure.” As you all wait for the show to start, Diana sits up again. “Oh, there’s the bitch.”

You and Melanie both look. She must obviously be referring to Jasmine, who’s sitting with another group of fashion editors nearby and apparently having the time of her life. “As long as she don’t come back around here, I don’t care…” you say, sitting back in your seat.

“Nah, but let me find out she’s kissing a rival company’s ass. That sounds like information the boss could use, if you know what I mean.”

You laugh at that. “Girl. Not this snitching shit.”

“More mess.” Melanie shakes her head.

The show starts soon after, with the surrounding lights dimming a bit and the main spotlights illuminating the runway. There are a few speakers who introduce the show’s concept before the models come out, and then the music begins, loud enough to make your eardrums rattle.

The fashion show itself seems to go on forever, all the models and their outfits blending into one colorful mass of fabric and glitter. You still take notes the whole time, though, as you’ve been taught to do since you took the job. Even if you’re bored with the celebrities, the music, or the show itself, you still have to bring something good back home.

Possibly the most important of the show, there’s always time after it ends—and before the after party begins—for everyone to mingle and network. This is primetime for the editors and bloggers, who do their best to make as many connections and unforgettable first impressions as possible. Even if you don’t get an interview or deal that day, it’s always possible to make yourself memorable enough that they’ll reach out to you later.

You don’t plan on going home empty-handed today, though.

Making your way to the NCT members is not particularly easy, though you didn’t quite expect it to be. Many others are also determined on getting next to them, whether it’s to admire their looks, try their luck, or make an actual business proposition.

Finally, you and Melanie worm your way to the front of the crowd after some other editors have left. You quickly discover that, despite your earlier teasing, your friend was right; they really are much prettier up-close and in-person. 

Taeyong, especially, is hard to look away from. Making eye contact with him makes you feel a bit flustered, which you aren’t quite expecting. You quickly get used to seeing celebrities in this line of work, which diminishes the starstruck factor after a while.

He’s the only member not currently talking to someone else, and you snatch that chance before someone else can jump in; you can already see another editor from one of your rival companies making a beeline for him.

“Um, hi! I’m Y/N and this is my coworker Melanie...we’re with InStyle Magazine. It’s great to see you here.”

Taeyong smiles at you warmly and shakes both of your hands. His hand is soft in yours, and his rings are cool against your skin. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Taeyong.”

“Did you enjoy the show today?” you ask. Another thing you’ve learned is that it’s better to make some kind of human connection with someone before asking them for any kind of favor. Unfortunately, not every editor follows that advice.

“Yes, it was amazing. Really exciting.” He raises his eyebrows. “Did you enjoy it, too?”

“Oh of course, it was great! So much fun, thank you for asking.” Melanie nods along to your words. “You’re pretty fashionable yourself,” you say to him, gesturing to his outfit. “But I’m sure you already know that; we’ve seen quite a few of your best looks.”

Taeyong shrugs as if he’s bashful about it, though his bright smile tells another story. “It’s a way to express myself...I mean, besides music, so it’s nice to go all-out.”

You smile. “It’s a great gift to be able to express yourself however you like. What would you think about exploring that with us at Instyle? I think it’d be a great opportunity to get to know you and your groupmates better, especially with how fashion-forward you all are. Is that something that would interest you?”

“I’m interested, and I’m sure the others would be into it, too. Maybe our managers can work something out?” Taeyong turns to the manager standing beside him and says something in Korean, and the manager appears to think something over for a moment before nodding.

Melanie jumps into the conversation next. “We also have connects with pretty popular brands right now, like Vetements. We can’t guarantee any deals outright, but it never hurts to get in touch. They’ve been looking for some new faces lately, and honestly, you’re a perfect fit in my eyes.” Melanie places her hands over her heart at the last sentence, and you giggle a little. She always knows how to pour the compliments on thick.

Taeyong’s smile is modest as he says, “Thank you.”

You end up swapping contact info—your boss’s number for their manager’s digits—so something can be arranged, and you text Liza immediately to let her know what’s up. 

“Again, thank you so much for sparing your time today, you’re so kind,” Melanie gushes. You can practically see the stars sparkling in her eyes through her round glasses as she shakes Taeyong’s hand again, holding his with both of hers. You try not to laugh at this. Despite her history of less-than-stellar picks, she’s not usually one to let the inner fangirl slip, but now even her composure is being tested.

Still, your own insides get a bit mushy when he turns to you again and takes your hand. “Yes, thank you. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Taeyong’s eyes seem to linger on yours a little longer than necessary. Or maybe the pounding music has finally rattled your brain loose. Either way, you enjoy the moment for what it is before bidding your goodbyes and walking back through the crowd with Melanie. 

You throw your arm around her shoulders, and she leans into you like she’s going to faint. “God. Was that real?!”

“If it wasn’t, please don’t pinch me yet.”

“We’ve already gotten the best of the best, so if you ask me, we deserve a damn drink right now.” Melanie pretends to throw a shot back and you laugh.

“Girl, not so fast. We still have to try to recruit a few more if that deal doesn’t work out. Liza won’t let us hear the end of it otherwise.” You sigh, not feeling very enthusiastic about it either, but decide to steel yourself for a long evening ahead.

The after party that night is packed with people; many are the same ones from the fashion show earlier, though there are also new faces. Diana rejoined you while you were both getting ready at the hotel and managed to wring all the details out of Melanie about your meetup with the group. Even now while sitting in the lounge, she still goes on about it.

“I still can’t believe this shit is really happening.”

“If the boss wants it to happen, then it’s likely gonna happen,” Melanie says.

Diana leans back against her lounge seat, nursing her drink and smiling to herself. “Jasmine is gonna drop dead when she hears about it...hopefully for real.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop worrying about what that girl is doing and just enjoy the party. We didn’t get all dressed up like this to let it go to waste.”

Diana throws her arm across the back of the lounge chair as she scans you up and down. “Yes, let’s talk about you and this little black dress, actually. Whose attention are you looking for tonight, miss girl?”

“Here you go. I just wanted to look nice, I’m not searching for any—”

“Hey, isn’t that Taeyong and Mark?” Melanie points to one of the room’s many entryways, and you and Diana sit up straighter to look. “Diana, don’t be so obvious, you’re practically breaking your neck!”

It definitely is them. You don’t know where the others are, but maybe they decided to split up and go to another one of the after parties in town. You suddenly feel nervous again, though you try to ignore it.

“Oh, they didn’t bring Jaehyun.” Melanie slumps in her seat, and you give her a skeptical look.

“I thought you liked Taeyong!? You were the one giving him goo-goo baby eyes back there.”

“Yeah, but Jaehyun is my favorite. It doesn’t hurt to make a good first impression. Maybe Taeyong will let my future husband know about me and we can finally get married.” You can only shake your head.

Diana looks back at you slyly. “Ah, I see. Is this who you’re looking to impress?”

You scoff. “You say that like I knew they’d be coming here.”

“Hmm, maybe? You never know.”

At one point, Taeyong catches sight of your little group and waves, and you all wave back. You don’t expect him to come over with Mark in tow, though, which makes you sweat a little.

“It’s you again,” Taeyong says, his smile wide, and his eyes flit across your body before coming back to your eyes. “You look nice.”

You’re a little embarrassed at the compliment, and you have to ignore the other two girls giggling like schoolgirls to avoid getting even more nervous. “Ah, thanks, you look nice too…”

Mark introduces himself next, and the other two fawn over how cute and handsome he is. It isn’t long before there’s someone else vying for their attention again, and they leave with an apology; but that is far from being the last time you see them that night.

Though both men weave in and out of the crowd, interacting with numerous people throughout the night, Taeyong seems to continually find his way back to you and your friends—or just you, if the other two are gone somewhere else. He even gets you to dance with him a bit. You enjoy his company, even if he does make you a little nervous. If there’s anything you could compare him to, you might think he’s like the sun itself, with everyone else in the room pulled into his orbit—but willingly.

“Don’t let this one slip,” Diana says in your ear after Taeyong’s pulled away yet again to talk to someone else. You jump from hearing her next to you, still expecting her to be across the room talking with some lifestyle blogger.

“Let...slip? We already told you we talked to him about the magazine—”

“Not that shit. It looks like he’s taken a liking to you. I wouldn’t let that pass me by, if I were you.”

“Put the wine down,” you say, reaching for her glass, but she only sidesteps you.

“Accept a damn compliment! You talk about me and my men issues, but you need to allow yourself to be complimented and cared for, for once.”

“Stop. Somebody can probably hear us, and I don’t even know the man like that.”

“You stop. He’s been buzzing around you all night. Honestly, I don’t know if he just wants pussy or an American romance but girl, I’d say yes.”

“Okay yeah, you’ve had enough.” You try to pluck the glass away again, but she twirls away from you and almost spills her drink in the process. You laugh as some people nearby give you both odd looks. “You were too afraid to even go and talk to them. Me and Melanie did all the work, and now you’re claiming you’d say yes...give me a break!”

“Alright, hold it against me forever if you please. Just don’t mess this up, okay?”

You shake your head. “Fine, if it’ll make you leave me alone.”

The party isn’t even close to winding down yet, but you figure it’s time to get Diana back to the hotel before she has one too many. And Melanie’s started complaining about her feet hurting, which always means she’s officially ready to leave.

There’s a veranda attached to the building where the party is being held, and you go out onto it to get some air after being crammed in with the others for so long. You only intend to stay a few minutes, waiting for Melanie to find Diana so you can leave.

You hear someone else walk onto the veranda, and you don’t initially think much of it. There are already a few people out here lounging on the steps and smoking, so you figure someone else must’ve come for a break too. You’re a little startled, though, when the person leans against the railing near you, and you turn to see its Taeyong.

“Tonight’s been fun,” he says, looking towards you casually. The night breeze rustles his hair a bit, and you know for certain your boss is going to be really pleased with this pick. He’s natural-born model material.

You hum in agreement. “It’s definitely been a long night,” you say, concealing a yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such an exciting time at an after party, though. ”

He grins. “Really? Never?”

You shrug a little. “As much as they dress it up on the outside, not every party is very entertaining. Some of them can be...something else entirely.” You chuckle at some of the ridiculous memories you have.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time tonight...and that we got to talk some more.” Taeyong’s eyes look remarkably genuine as he says this, and it turns your stomach all weird and fluttery. Maybe you should listen to Diana for once.

Then again, maybe you shouldn’t be fraternizing with someone who’ll likely be working with your company soon?

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, either. Outside of business.” He tugs at his lip very slightly with his teeth after he says this. Which might seem like a nonchalant move in any other setting, but here and now, with this mischievousness glittering in his eyes, it’s anything but.

Oh, fuck it.

“Hm. I’ll take you up on that, then.” You find a slip of paper in your purse and write your number down on it, giving it to him afterwards. When you momentarily glance back at the entrance to the building, you catch your friends watching sneakily from afar, flashing you thumbs-ups and grinning wildly. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Taeyong.” You smile.

“I will.” There’s a promise in his voice.

Your friends are all over you as soon as you get back to them, linking their arms with yours and crowding in to hear whatever tea you have.

“You guys, really? We were only out there for a few minutes.”

“It only takes 7 seconds to fall in love,” Melanie chimes in, and Diana laughs out loud.

“If you wanna hear it that bad, Diana’s gonna have to get sober first. I don’t need you posting my business all over Twitter tonight.” The other girl sighs and only tugs you and Melanie along faster so you can all meet up with your Uber driver.

“Fine, girl, but you’re gonna let me pick all your future baby names, okay?”

“Sure, sure.”

[carriagelamp]

November 2020: A Months of Familiarity

This November ended up being a month of me either rereading old favourites, exploring new books by favourite authors, or a mix of both.

…Be prepared for so much Terry Prachett, I found his audiobooks on Libby last month and since that I’ve been unstoppable.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents

The first of my Terry Practhett books to mention! I chose to include this one on my list because it’s a beautiful stand alone novel, perfect to read if you’ve never touched on of Pratchett’s works before, and is often overlooked.

The book is about Maurice, an “amazing” cat by his own admission, who has teamed up with a stupid boy and his very own plague of rats. The moneymaking scheme is simple: set the rats loose on a town and after causing a panic let the boy stroll in and offer to play his pipe and lead them away… for a fee. This is working well, until Maurice, the boy, and the rats arrive in the town Bad Blintz. Here the rats are beginning to question the morality of their work, the boy gets entangled with a young, mischievous local girl, and they’re all shocked to find out that the town already has a real rat infestation… or so the rat catchers claim. Things quickly turn sinister and deadly as the group is forced to confront not only the cruelty of humanity, but something even more sinister living in the small, dark, hidden place of the town.

This is a YA book, unlike some of Pratchett’s other novels, so it’s a quick, fun read, while still having all of his dry wit and heavy, complicated thoughts about society, morality, belief, and what it means to be a person. It’s a genuine delight to see Maurice and the rats, recently made sentient by wizards’ rubbish, struggle to come to terms with who they were and who they are now.

Black Pearl Ponies: Red Star & Wildflower

Y’all it ain’t a secret at this point that I enjoy a stupid horse girl book, right? I picked up the first two books of the Black Pearl Ponies books from the library on a whim and they were basically what they promised. Girl lives with family on ranch, father helps train horses, girl goes on pony adventures with ponies. A particular focus is given to horse welfare and care. Very mediocre but a nice thoughtless covid read if you, like me, get a craving for animals books written for seven year olds from time to time. Plus this comes with the added humour of it being written, as far as I can tell, by a British author who thinks all Americans are stetson wearing cowboys which I find unreasonably funny.

Crenshaw

I love Katherine Applegate’s work; I read the Endling series earlier this year and they are overwhelmingly good. Crenshaw was also an enjoyable read, though not my favourite by her. It read a little bit like a book I read last fall, No Fixed Address, which was also a very good read though not my usual genre. Crenshaw is about a boy, Jackson, whose family, though close-knit and loving, is experiencing financial difficulties and struggle with food scarcity, homelessness, and all the instability and stress that results from this. During this tumultuous time, Jackson is surprised by the reappearance of a tall, bipedal, snarky cat — Crenshaw, his old imaginary friend. This is a charming book that blends genuine, real world hardships with whimsy and magical realism.

The Enemy Above: A Novel of WWII

Since it was Rememberance Day this month, I decided to pick up a holocaust novel. This book is about 12-year-old Anton, a young Jewish boy who finds himself fleeing from his Polish farm in the middle of the night with his old grandma when a German raiding party that attacks their village in an effort to make the countryside “judenfrei”. The book is, perhaps, not the most well-fleshed out, but it’s fast-paced and exciting for a child/YA audience that’s being introduced to holocaust literature, without trying to downplay the absolutely horror and brutality of the Nazis. It manages to strike a satisfying balance between fear, tragedy, and hope.

“Everything he had heard was true. He was just a twelve-year-old boy and yet they hunted him. He had broken no laws, done nothing wrong. He was simply born Jewish. How could anyone want to kill him for it?”

Gregor the Overlander

Somehow I never knew that Suzanne Collins wrote anything other than The Hunger Games? I stumbled across this series at a used bookstore and was first taken by the cover and then shocked when I realized I recognized the author’s name. Well The Hunger Games was such a good read, how could I not pick up a book with people riding on a giant fucking bat?

Such a good choice. I’m almost done book two and bought book three today after work. It is exactly the sort of low fantasy that I live for, when a fantasy world lives so close to the real world that you can practically touch it. I also love the fact that while all the wild fantastical elements are happening, you still have the main character taking care of his toddler sister the whole time. It’s at times charming, hilarious, and nerve-wracking!

It’s about Gregor, a normal kid who’s doing his best to help his mom take care of his two younger siblings ever since his father disappeared years ago. Gregor expected months of boredom when he agrees to stay home over the summer instead of going to camp like his sister in order to watch his baby sister, Boots, and their grandma while his mom is at work. He never could have expected that a simple trip to the apartment’s laundry room would lead to both him and Boots tumbling miles beneath the earth into the pitch black Underland, a place filled with giant rats and bugs and people with translucent skin who fly through the massive caverns on huge bats. He also could have never expected that he would get wrapped up in a deadly prophecy that would force him to travel into distant, dark lands into the waiting claws of an overwhelming enemy.

Kings, Queens, and In-Between

A Canadian queer novel that I’ve seen trumpeted everywhere. Libraries, classrooms, bookstore, this book got so much hype (and has such a pleasing cover) that I had to get my hands on it. Now, I’ve got to admit that it’s not really my genre; I don’t love realistic fiction. But that being said, it’s a fun, heart-warming, queer romp through that explores gender, sexuality, love, family, friendship… there’s a lot of lovable, quirky, complicated characters that get thrown together in unexpected ways at a local summer carnival. While there’s tension and misunderstandings and mistakes, this is overall a very optimistic and loving novel, and would be a great read if you want a queer novel that reads like cotton candy.

Love, The Tiger

This book is the graphic novel equivalent of a nature documentary. There’s no text, but you follow a day in the life of a tiger as it moves through the jungle on the quest for food. The art is honestly beyond outstanding, and though it’s a really quick read it is so very worth it. I’ve also read Love, The Lion in this series (also good, though a bit more confusing imho) as well as one of the books from his other series Little Tails which is still very nature and education based, though for a slightly younger audience.

Making Money

More Pratchett! Making Money was the first Discworld book I ever read, and it’s one of my most reread ones — it’s an ultimate comfort read! This is technically the sequel to Going Postal (another book I reread this month), in which conman Moist Von Lipwig is saved from a rightful death at the noose in exchange for agreeing to work for the city. Going Postal sees Moist narrowly dodging death in many varied forms as he tries to get the Anhk-Morpork postal service back on its feet and get the drifts of dead, whispering letters moving again. In Making Money things at the post office have become… too easy. Moist is bored, restless, until he finds himself thrust into a new job: head of the Royal Mint. There he has been given not only charge of the biggest bank in Anhk-Morpork, but also a dog with a price on its head, a lethal family with all the money in the world out for his blood, and the fear that his secret past life may be on the verge of being exposed to everyone, all while he’s desperately trying to make money…

The Moist series is honestly an example of Pratchett at his absolute best imo, and the amount of humour, wit, adventure, and scathing commentary he can build around a bank is outstanding. Cannot recommend enough.

The One And Only Ivan

Another book I’ve been hearing everyone talk about, as well as another Katherine Applegate book. It’s been on my radar for a while, but with the sequel and a movie coming out, it had everything at a fever pitch and I finally picked it up. Fantastic read, I definitely enjoyed it more than Crenshaw. This book was based off the true story of Ivan, a gorilla taken from his home in the jungle and sold to the owner of a mall, where he spent years of his life growing from child to adult silverback in a small, concrete enclosure. In this fictionalized version, everything changes for Ivan and his friends, when a new baby elephant is bought to help revitalize the mall attractions and Ivan makes a promise he doesn’t know how to keep: to protect this baby, and keep her from living the life Ivan and his friends were forced to. This book made me very emotional. Applegate’s picture book that goes along with it is also a great companion read.

Ranma ½

I realized that our library had the 2-in-1 editions of Ranma ½ and honestly that was it for me. This has been a favourite series of mine since I was in middle school and realized that the creator of Inuyasha had written other things. It is unapologetically ridiculous and larger-than-life and you have to love the shameless joy it has at being ludicrous. It does start to feel a little repetitive the further into the series you go, but at the moment, with covid, I find I have a huge tolerance for rereading slightly repetitive things so long as they make me happy. And boy howdy does the vaguely queer undertones, endless pining, and relentless slapstick of Ranma ½  make me happy. This is classic manga y’all and if you’ve never read it you should!

The basic premise, for anyone that doesn’t is that of an bonkers martial arts comedy. It follows Ranma and his father who, while training in China, fell into cursed springs. Each spring has the tragic legend of a person or animal who drowned in it, and if someone falls in they inevitably turn into that creature any time they’re doused in cold water. Ranma had the misfortune of falling into “The Spring of Drowned Girl” and, indeed, turns into a girl anytime he’s hit with cold water. Things continue to spiral out of control when Ranma meets his arranged fiancée, Akane, who is as exasperated by this situation as Ranma. Both would rather be fighting people than worrying about things like romance. And don’t worry, there is lots and lots and lots and lots of some of the goofiest martial arts fights that you can imagine for a bunch of high schoolers.

Through the Woods

A beautiful and creepy Canadian graphic novel. I honestly really don’t even know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. It’s a collection of short horror stories, with beautiful, flowing art style that draws you in and sends chills down your spine. I’ll let the art doing the talk, and honestly beg you to go find a way to read this graphic novel:

The Witch’s Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

The last Terry Pratchett book on my list (though shout out to the others I’ve listened to this month: Wee Free Men, Hat Full of Sky, Men At Arms, and Snuff) and one that I actually physically, rather than listening to the audiobook. I included this one because unlike the others, this was a Pratchett book I had never read before. It collects a number of Pratchett’s short stories that had been written for children over a number of years. These weren’t necessarily my favourite examples of Pratchett’s writing (I prefer his longer work that can really dive into social issues) but it was such a quick, easy, fun read that you can’t really help but be charmed by it. I liked the stories that took place in “the wild wild west (of Wales)” in particular.

[danielxrk]

     ✞ ED SHEERAN (+ ORIGINAL RAP) *   ANTISOCIAL       ( you know that i'll be back, terminator of the 8-track )

he tells woojin first.

 his hands shake when he texts him and he's afraid, even though he knows woojin won't be mad about this (he won't, will he? why would he be mad?)

 he knows woojin won't be mad about this. he talked to woojin-- finally told him some of what plagued his mind ever since he and kenta received their contracts on that stage in front of a live audience, and ever since daniel bawled his eyes out in front of a live audience. he told him how bad he felt for leaving him and kenta alone after getting them into the mgas in the first place, how he wished he could've been better so he could've joined them. ironically, woojin essentially told daniel his own motto: nothing was guaranteed, even if they did win. still, daniel vowed to work hard to follow he and kenta into their new world, and after some hesitance and skepticism, woojin told him to do it.

 so he has been, with woojin's permission, and now he has an audition to make it into the company he might've had their team won-- had all of them gotten contracts like trc's team did when they won (aside from minho, of course.)

 he finally wants it. he wants it so badly that he's even been working on his dancing, just a little. he is so tired of his life as it is. he doesn't want to make coffee and study economics every day, bass guitar and lyrics in the memo app on his phone the only thing to save him. even with practicing his dancing, however, he wondered how much of himself he needed to sacrifice for a company to want him, and if it would be worth it. he wondered if they would scoff at his guitar like the public did, and force him into a group that dances like they did on the mgas. he wondered if there was any chance at all that a company might want him for what he will always want in the end: a band.

 he came to terms with the fact that the answer to his last question would always be no; he decided it was worth it anyway. he could be anyone they wanted him to be, as he said in his very first interview for the mgas, before he discovered who he really was as a musician (as a person) over the course of the show, even if they didn't want him to. he had to be anyone they wanted him to be, and he could do it if it meant being with kenta and woojin again. (he tried not to think about how that essentially meant leaving minhyun and sungwoon behind. he tried not to think about the fact that they didn't want to become trainees, and that regardless of his dreams, they would never reunite on a stage again. he tried not to still have hope.)

 and then comes the empty enigma halloween cover, uploaded to daniel's youtube channel what he thought was under the radar in case kenta and woojin got in trouble for performing with the rest of the band in any way. then comes the call. then comes the we saw the recent video cover you posted on youtube and think you may fit the profile we’re looking for. then comes the audition.

 he scheduled the audition, all ecstatic and giddy. all he did in their cover was play bass and harmonize, as he always did in empty enigma. sphere wanted him because of something he did with empty enigma. maybe sphere wanted him for who he actually was, if that was what made them think he fit what they were looking for.

 but then comes you knew who i was on the mgas. why did you try to erase empty enigma and then do this? why did you make me think none of you could ever want me unless i was someone different?

 he tells woojin first. he tells jinwook second.

 truthfully, the potential of working on songs with jinwook is a dream. just being able to see him regularly feels something like a blessing, or it would be, since he hasn't succeeded yet. he feels lucky enough that he has the number of a convex member, let alone jinwook's, and that he actually wants to talk to him, but texting him isn't the same as talking to him in person, and the reliable and comforting presence he provided during the turbulence of the mgas.

 woojin and jinwook are more than enough reason to want to join a company, as is what he knows of sphere's schedule from his coaches. he was always torn between sphere and nova, and for as grateful he is, there's a little disappointment, too. maybe there will always be a part of him that wants to prove himself to hyun bin. maybe there will always be a part of him that wants to join kenta and haknyeon, his two very best friends, in their company.

 he tries not to think about it, and instead, focuses on preparing for his sphere audition-- but first, he has to tell kenta, sungwoon and minhyun.

 his feet trace the familiar way from his apartment to theirs around the time that kenta and woojin's schedules end, more because he wants to wish woojin a happy birthday in person and maybe give him an awkward hug than to share the news about his audition. he told woojin he wouldn't tell the others until tomorrow. daniel's ability to act and lie went significantly downhill now that he doesn't need to hide everything about himself, and woojin-- who didn't even really bother to lie about empty enigma in the first place --is even worse. naturally, they catch on to something being out of the ordinary, and it's minhyun that asks: "what's wrong?"

 "nothing!" daniel chirps, and he grins, but minhyun doesn't buy it, of course. "nothing is wrong," and his smile stays in place, this time sincere. he looks over at woojin, as if for approval, and woojin just stares back at him, offering no help whatsoever, so daniel inhales deeply before he says, words tumbling out quickly, one after another, "sphere gave me an audition because of the teeth cover."

 they're happy for him, kenta especially, but they all share his sentiments: why now? sungwoon seems the angriest on his behalf, even though he tries to hide it, and daniel isn't so stupid to think that's all there is to it. for now, he doesn't mention it. they all encourage him to go, no matter how they may really feel, and daniel smiles. suddenly, tears come to his eyes when he does, entirely out of the blue, entirely unexplained.

 maybe it's because if he makes it, it'll be the end of another chapter. maybe it's because he's afraid minhyun and sungwoon feel the same way daniel felt standing as the only empty enigma member on that finale stage without a contract. maybe's it's because it's only in this moment that he realizes he doesn't know why sphere picked him and not them. it's like they're back to daniel and his band, even as the frontman carrying their vocals, and minhyun with his voice good enough to be a lead singer himself. (maybe it's because a company wanting him again after a year just means that much.)

 he gets started on selecting a song right away, knowing how long it took him to settle on one for his nova audition this time last year, and how much he ended up regretting the one he selected for the next year. he knows he has to choose wisely, and there are several options he comes up with quickly.

 the easiest-- and perhaps wisest --route is to choose something already uploaded to his youtube channel or soundcloud. it would be something he already practiced, and he could pick the one he received the best feedback on, hoping whoever judged his audition would feel the same way. but is daniel one to take the easiest route? likely not.

 there is a certain song: one he intended to perform at the green ribbon festival before he and songhee decided to do a collaboration for it instead. it's a song he held back thus far, not posting anywhere because he felt self-conscious of it. it isn't because he thinks it's bad, but because the lyrical content and meaning behind it embarrasses him. it's the first song he wrote that's akin to a love song. he wrote it while sungwoon was in japan following the mgas; he played the guitar part for kenta, and minhyun likely heard enough of it when daniel hung out at their apartment, working on it, just so minhyun wouldn't be alone. in the end, he is proud of it, and it might be time for it to finally reach the ears of a real audience. maybe.

 another that might be appropriate: youngblood by five seconds of summer. it's the song daniel almost performed a year ago for his nova audition, practiced alongside the way i am by charlie puth until daniel eventually decided on the latter. it seems fitting now, after getting noticed for performing another five seconds of summer song, and maybe this way, he can put one what if to rest. maybe.

 those are the safe options-- the logical, rational options. of course, daniel still seeks out more. he could sing a worship song and throw it back to his first ever audition, and give god some more glory like he said he would in his prayer before the finale of the mgas. there are a few of those he's been wanting to cover (and one he already has.)

 he's been wanting to cover some of ed sheeran's collaboration album too, wanting to round up some mga friends to join him in the songs, but he hasn't gotten around to it between midterms and mild to moderate social anxiety. he could turn one of those into a solo song and maybe show off some of the range to his talents.

 god, he doesn't even really know if he wants to sing or rap yet.

 what matters most is what he wants to convey through this audition. who does he want to be?

 on sunday, follow church service, he prays, and he asks god that question and more.

 hi god. the past few days have been kind of crazy. thank you for the audition, first of all, even if i'm still confused about it, and what you really want for me. i guess that's not really mine to know, is it? i guess i'll find out.

 i think that's all i want to pray about today. you know i have a ton else going on that i need your help on, but i want to make sure i really focus on this and make sure i’m with you on it since it’s so important. this could really change my entire life.

 there’s a part of me that’s still scared. i don’t think i really like change at all, even when it’s good for me, and there’s been so much in the past year. it’s kind of crazy to think about. most of it has been good, and i’ve liked it, but…i don’t know about empty enigma breaking up. that might be a change that i never understand. i think kenta is happy as a trainee, but i don’t know if woojin is, and i don’t know what you’re doing with all of that sadness. i think i prayed, before the mga finale, like the only two options were me becoming a trainee and empty enigma breaking up or none of us getting contracts so we could all go back to the band. i think, even though i didn’t want to accept it, that i might understand why you did it. i think you still wanted me to be able to write and perform my own music, but didn’t want me to be cameo anymore. cameo wasn’t really the personification of jesus that i’m supposed to be, was he? i still don’t know if i’m doing such a good job of that as daniel. i understand why you did it, but i still don’t like it yet, so i guess i pray that…you would get me there.

 this audition might be a way of doing that, i think. it kind of feels like it, but you know…nothing is guaranteed. i think i keep saying that because i need to believe it more than anyone. i’m too optimistic and always get my hopes up, but at the same time, i always doubt and am always anxious about everything. how can i be both of those things at once? how can i feel like i might be good enough to get a contract this time, and be afraid everything will be ruined at the same time?

 i think i got off topic. honestly, i don’t really know what to ask anymore, after all of this. i think just for help. there’s a lot i don’t understand about why you’ve given me this now, and why you did in the way you did. if i thought it was cruel for sphere to give me an audition because of an empty enigma cover after breaking us as a band, then i must think you’re cruel for giving it to me too. i’m grateful, but…i’m also confused. it’s a little painful, too, but it’s nice to know baek jiyoung wanted me, and it’s nice that it’s sphere. i’ll trust you on why it’s sphere and not nova, and believe that if i get in, that’s just where you want me to be.

 if i don’t get in, it’ll mean you want me somewhere else, right? that’s easy enough now, but i think if i fail again i’ll be really upset, so i’ll pray that you make me okay with whatever result i get, and that i accept whatever your will is for me in this.

 i do pray that your will would be to let me get a contract from this…i think. i always feel stupid praying and asking to change your will, but that can happen, right? maybe? i know you’re supposed to listen to us, but…okay, right, i won’t get into that. focus.

 i really want to become a trainee for kenta and woojin, especially after i told woojin i would do my best to. at the same time, there’s part of me that doesn’t want to, because i’ll miss my friends. it’s not just sungwoon and minhyun i’d be leaving behind, but songhee and jungmo too, and all of the friends i made on the mgas that didn’t get signed, and everyone in between. then again, that seems kind of dramatic. it’s not like i’m moving to another country or anything, i’m just going to get really busy if i become a trainee. i’ll get off at a regular time for a job on the weekends, and i’ll still be able to hang out with everyone, even if it’s not as much. now that i’ve thought about it like that, i think it’s okay to want this. i think i want to become a trainee for me too.

 so yeah, i pray that i would, and that if you don’t want me to be now, or i’m still not ready, that…i would fail, i guess? i know whatever happens will be for the best in the end, even if it really sucks, so i’ll just trust that in the end.

 yeah, with all of that out the way, please help me prepare for this audition. i don’t really know what to perform and since i actually care about the result of this, i’m nervous. i want to pick the right song, both to show off my abilities so they like me, and to represent who i really am, and to be something i like. please help me do all of that, and i also pray that i would do well, and that this wouldn’t haunt me like my nova audition did, no matter what happens.

 i think that’s it? yeah, thank you for listening. i pray all of this in jesus’s name. amen.

 he waffles on song choices a while more, but finally settles on one on monday, which is much later than he wanted, but it’s fine! in the end, he chooses antisocial by ed sheeran. he wanted to show off an original song, and then he wanted to show off his rapping, and then—

 he decides he’ll write another original rap for the second verse where travis scott originally rap-sings (what do you classify that as, anyway?) this time, he does it in english, and it comes just as quickly as it did during the skill round of the mgas when he did the same. it was his favorite round of the mgas across the whole show. this is the way to show off his singing, his rapping, and his creativity. hopefully, it’ll show how his confidence has grown, too, since the song has a little spunk. he won’t be apologizing to the judges before he begins this time.

 as the days pass, and the audition comes nearer and nearer, he gets the slightest hint of cold feet. he keeps thinking about how much this feels like choosing, kenta and woojin vs sungwoon and minhyun, and the fact that he’s choosing the side he is makes him feel sick. he already owes sungwoon so much better than he’s given him until now. he owes sungwoon better than not even being able to call him his boyfriend, and still getting flustered when anyone calls what are obviously dates by that name. he definitely owes him better than taking away from their relationship, and how desperately he wants to figure it out.

 “if i get in, i’ll still come over every weekend,” he says, holding both of sungwoon’s hands in his own as they sit on the sofa—the sofa where daniel told him he loved him the first time and sungwoon didn’t get it, very important to note –and daniel kisses him. when he pulls away, he smiles. “i’ll come see you even when i’m tired.”

 in the end, it doesn’t come down to kenta or woojin, or sungwoon or minhyun, but to daniel, and what he needs. for the first time in his life, he stops sacrificing himself for everyone else.

 he steps into the audition room with a smile on his face, and immediately starts to tune his trusty guitar. he introduces himself easily, and they soon tell him to begin, so he does. (now, he’s only a little nervous.)

 Friday night and I'm ridin' solo When I touch down, keep it on the low-low I don't mess with your energy No photos So antisocial, but I don't care You’re lucky I’m not gonna smoke here Got a bottle in my hand, bring more though Got my hat low, don't talk to me

 he gets a little in touch with his cameo roots. despite his hair still being a certain (different) shade of silver, he hasn’t in a while. it’s confidence an old daniel never had, and that the current daniel only has because he realized he was cameo too, and that as much as he wanted cameo, he didn’t really need him anymore. god wouldn’t have taken away cameo’s medium if he did. cameo and past daniel were two very different people, but none of them were really daniel. it was the daniel made in the image of his parents, and the daniel that needed to rebel against that. now, he’s a very different person, too: a combination of both with a little something extra.

 really, that’s what this song is about for daniel.

 he changes the original line don’t give a damn i’m gonna smoke here so he doesn’t swear, if that matters, and so those judging him don’t worry that he smokes. he didn’t change any of the lines about drinking, though…hmm…it’s okay, he changed the entire second verse, which was worse.

 his guitar arrangement shifts, a little softer, but more difficult too, a build up as he sings:

 I've been down, give me some space You don't know what's in my brain Music loud, easin' my pain

this is pure daniel, cameo shelved, even though cameo was the medium in which music eased daniel’s pain. that’s what empty enigma was for daniel in the year and a half he was part of the band, but these lines are true for him now, too. he’s been down since the end of the mgas, but he’s put every free second and all of his heart into music since. he’s written and arranged so many songs, he’s sweat in dance studios, he’s worked on new instruments all for this.

 his guitar builds up, then explodes into the chorus, and daniel smiles as he sings it and strums. maybe he should be playing a tougher character, but he doesn’t really want to. he’s sure sphere will make him who they want to be once he’s in their company. before then, he wants them to want him for who he really is.

 Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me I came to vibe, yeah On something, on something, on something I wanna riot Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me I came to vibe, yeah Won't let nothing come in between me and the night

 it’s still confident, and a promise that he’s a different daniel than he was during the mgas. truthfully, maybe he wasn’t ready back then. the daniel of the mgas didn’t know what he wanted, and even though he put everything he had into his performances, it was just to perform—without any end goal in mind. he didn’t really want a contract then. he only started that journey to garner attention for his band and show off the talents of his bandmates, so maybe it was only fitting that the mgas tore the band apart as they did. band’s talents: shown off, karma: delivered. now, he gets to show off his own talents again, this time, as a daniel that knows exactly what he wants.

 that’s how he can sing the chorus with the feeling that he can. it’s not fake fake confidence, at least not right now. he came here to perform and show what he can do—to enjoy himself, and to prove himself. if they don’t want him here, he won’t give up. by offering him an audition, they already proved to him he had reason to hope in this.

 the next talent he gets to show comes up, and it’s his original rap. he still plays his guitar as he begins (which is pretty hard, mind you. he spent the most time this week making sure he could do both simultaneously.)

 if you don't have something nice to say don't say anything at all

my mama used to tell me; just stayed quiet by default

 it’s true. he’s surprised it took him as little time as it did to start speaking his own mind. at the same time, he’s still trying to tell his own thoughts apart from hers. he’s still trying to develop his own opinions, and his own habits, and to embrace that she wasn’t always right—that he didn’t have to be who she wanted him to be, or the person he thought might make her happy. it didn’t stop him from trying. he knows now that he could never be that; she would never truly be happy with anyone. she would keep poking and prodding and criticizing no matter what he did.

 he still loves her. he just can’t live for anymore, and that’s exactly what he used to do. she tried to raise him in the lord—to bring him up according to only the oppressive, rigid teachings of the bible –and yet he only knows now that the only person he can safely live for, and the only one that he should live for, is jesus. he’s learned so much more with a little distance.

 he sings now, a reference to the beginning of the song, even if it’s not in the original:

 so antisocial and i'm not prepared

with a personality that's not theirs

 to his dad’s credit, he’s been better now that daniel is no longer under the reign of his mother. his dad actually helped him get furniture for his apartment, likely without his mother’s knowledge. given that daniel’s grandmother is his favorite member of the family (well, maybe tied with mina), and she’s the other of his father, it makes sense.

 even if he doesn’t mind having part of his mother’s personality, the fact that he still doesn’t know exactly who he is is true. he goes back to rapping.

 i'm trying to be honest for the first time in my life

so i see the finale every time i close my eyes

 he spent so much of his life concealing and deceiving. he would never admit to doing anything wrong to his mother, only telling the truth when he thought she might expose his lie. he remembers lying about what he did with his friends, even at an early age—studying, he would say, despite them actually playing video games.

 his grandest lie, however, was empty enigma. keeping the band a secret was his grandest lie, going so far as to concoct a twin brother as an excuse for why empty enigma’s bassist resembled him so much when anyone asked.

 in a way, his personality for most of his life was a lie, too. since getting out of his mother’s clutches, he’s been trying to be more sincere, so it’s only fair that he is here too, and he confesses how much the finale has haunted him to the very people he represented during it. he wonders if they’re disappointed, even now, that sphere’s team finished fourth instead of finishing first. even now, with this new opportunity, daniel thinks he still is.

 he’s here, however, and he does have this new opportunity. it’s kicked up his determination anew, so that’s not the note he ends the rap on. he smiles again, a little cheeky.

  and if you cut me now because you think that i still lack

you know that i'll be back, terminator of the 8-track

 he hopes they don’t cut him again, but it’s a resolve to both them and himself that he won’t give up. he’ll be back knocking on sphere’s door, eager for retribution, just like he wants to at nova’s for turning him down a year ago. (it’s also a fun reference to the terminator movies, and his strength, and yes, to mark’s rap in jopping.)

  his guitar built up once again, to the repeat of the chorus, and the final part of his audition song.

 Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me I came to vibe, yeah On something, on something, on something I wanna riot Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me I came to vibe, yeah Won't let nothing come in between me and the night

 he smiles again after he ends, and does his best to bow to the panel even with a guitar slung across his shoulders. “thank you!”

 nothing is guaranteed. he knows that, and he likes to think no matter what happens, he’ll be okay. nothing is guaranteed, but more than that, he wants to think he’s finally done enough.

[whiskyrunner]

The Bridge first time ficlet

I’ve wanted to write this part for ages (because it turns out I’m really, really bad at slow burn), I just had NO idea how their first time, in this rather healthier verse, would go. Finally (after... multiple years of chipping away at this verse) things kind of tumbled into place and I spat out this 4k word chunk. I hope it meets or exceeds your expectations.

Two notes: I don’t really think this is dubcon, but there are possibly people who would, so consider this a warning (I mean it wouldn’t really be Rough Trade without dubcon, amirite?). Secondly, the reference to Eames having been to Arthur’s apartment before comes from this ficlet.

--- For two weeks or so Arthur falls off the radar. He doesn't show up at Yusuf's bar, nor at Eames' restaurant; the couple of texts Eames sends go unanswered. He pushes it to the back of his mind--he thinks he would hear through Mal if something bad had happened; also, he could be wrong, but he thinks Arthur trusts him enough by now that he would reach out if things were rough again.

So he doesn't think too much about it, not until he's halfway through a shift and he spots Arthur sitting at the bar and nursing a beer. He makes sure Arthur is alone, not with any of his charming coworkers, before approaching.

"Arthur," he greets. "Long time no see."

Arthur barely glances at him. "I had a lot going on at work," he says. "Presentations and ..." He rubs at his face. "Sorry. I would have texted ..."

He looks drunk already, Eames thinks. Drunk or very, very tired. There is, he knows, a bit of overlap between the two.

"Sleeping alright?" he asks.

Arthur shrugs stiffly.

"Alright." Eames pats the bar. "I'll see you in a bit." Arthur nods, clearly not paying attention.

As soon as his shift is over, Eames changes out of his work shirt and slips back out to the bar, where Arthur is still slumped on a stool.

"Almost finished your drink?" Eames asks, sliding in next to him.

"Almost." Arthur tosses back the last swallow of beer, and slides unsteadily off the bar stool. "I'm going home. I'll see you."

It takes him a couple minutes to realize Eames is keeping pace half a step behind him; then he swivels around with a glare.

"You live in that direction," he says.

"Astute as ever, dear Arthur," Eames replies. He moves up alongside Arthur. "I'd like to make sure you get home safely, if that's alright. You seem to be a bit ... off, today."

"I'm not drunk," Arthur snaps. He sounds offended. "I only had the two beers."

"I see." Eames considers for a moment. "When did you last sleep?"

Arthur reels away from him a bit; whether on purpose or not, Eames can't tell. After a moment, he replies, "Two ... two days ago."

"I see," Eames says again.

"You don't need to baby-sit me."

"I may be able to help you sleep," Eames says--an idea has just formed in the back of his mind. He thinks Arthur will reject it--it involves close contact--but he may be tired enough to give it a try. "Anyway, Arthur, forgive me for saying you have a penchant for making bad decisions when sleep-deprived."

He casts Arthur a quick glance, to gauge how this is met. But Arthur snorts.

"Oh yeah? Would you call jumping off a bridge a bad decision?"

"It wasn't one of your better ones," Eames says, and Arthur laughs; first, briefly, with real mirth; then almost helplessly, with a sob.

"Sorry," he says, after a minute. His voice is ragged. "I'm okay, Eames. Really. I don't need your help."

"That's alright," Eames says. He finds himself thinking, selfishly, that he enjoys seeing Arthur with his defenses down. That he may be the only person who ever gets to see Arthur vulnerable like this--he must be the only person. He likes that Arthur trusts him with this. He likes to think he's worthy of that trust. If he can help Arthur sleep--maybe.

Arthur looks sidelong at him. Eames isn't sure what he sees, but after a moment he says, "Really. I'm okay."

Eames stops walking, and Arthur stops too. "You sure?"

Arthur nods, and sighs. "I'll text you if I change my mind. Okay?"

"Fine." For reasons he's not entirely sure of, Eames reaches out and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze. Arthur startles, blinking at him. "Get some sleep."

He starts walking away, and behind him Arthur says, dry, "That's the plan."

-- He gets a text from Arthur two nights later, characteristically succinct: Still want to help me sleep?

Sure, Eames texts back. He has nowhere to be.

Arthur texts him the code to the gate outside his building, and meets Eames at the door of his apartment.

"Come in," he mumbles, holding the door open. He's wearing work clothes--pressed trousers and a shirt and tie. In response to Eames' quizzical look, he says, "I just got home."

"Have you slept at all?" Eames asks. He looks a little better than he had the other night, a little less fragile--but not by much.

"A bit." Arthur drags a hand through his hair, leaving it uncharacteristically mussed. Then he straightens up a bit, offers a shrug. "What I really need is just--one good night's sleep. And you offered--so--"

"I did," Eames agrees. Arthur's shoulders relax.

"Come on," he says, and then, "You've been here before, right?"

Eames has. He was drunk at the time, though, and so the impression hadn't been very lasting. He recalls a feeling of sterility, a sort of emptiness, like the place had been set up to look like a picture from a catalogue with no people in it. He follows Arthur through the front hall and lingers outside the kitchen: granite countertops and an island with two bar stools; shining chrome appliances. All the light in the room currently comes from the vast picture window which faces the next-door building, a pretty facade interspersed with glowing windows. He remembers thinking the view from the living room had been particularly nice, and moves on: almost the whole wall in that room is windows and a glass door onto the sparse balcony. From here, so high up, Eames' favourite city looks like a glittering jewel. Between two buildings he can see a sliver of Central Park. Arthur is lucky, he thinks, and immediately feels foolish for having thought it. All this niceness, and what has it gotten him?

There is, perhaps, just a hint this time that the apartment has an occupant: a dish sitting in the kitchen sink, and there's a finance magazine sitting slightly askew on the coffee table in front of the couch. But there is none of the warmth that Amy's flat contains; no brightly-coloured cushions decorating this couch, no books strewn cheerfully around, no succulents in decorative glass bowls. Not a pastel hue in sight: brown, black and white seem to dominate.

He realizes he's lost Arthur and peels himself away from the windows. Arthur proves easy to find: a little warm light spills out of one open door into the hallway. Eames pauses outside the door, and realizes he's standing on the threshold of Arthur's bedroom. Arthur stands next to the bed, his tie loosened, fiddling with it with both hands.

"You can come in," he says. When Eames does, warily, he says, "Everything's in the bedside table drawer--condoms, and lube..."

This at once brings Eames up short. I just wanted to help you sleep, he thinks dumbly, and in a flash he realizes his mistake: of course, Arthur had told him what helps, hadn't he?

Perhaps noticing his hesitation, Arthur says quickly, "This doesn't have to change anything. We can still-- You'd be doing me a favour, really."

"Arthur," Eames starts, and, finding his voice a bit ragged, clears his throat. "This isn't what I meant."

Arthur stops playing with his tie, and drops his hands to his sides. "What do you mean," he says.

"I meant--something else. Not this." He'd meant a massage, but that hardly sounds much better, under the circumstances.

Arthur gives him a long, cool, appraising look. Eames adds with a sudden flicker of resentment, "Did you seriously think I'd--that I would come over and just take advantage of you, just like that--"

"Take advantage?" Arthur is already cutting him off. He laughs harshly. "Jesus, Eames, I'm not a drunk girl at a party--"

"The only reason you want this is because you're tired," Eames says sharply, "and you're not thinking straight--"

"You're right," Arthur snaps. "Clearly, I'm not. So go."

"Is this really how you think of me?" Eames presses. "That I'm such a piece of shit I would use you when you're low like this, just to get off? That I'd get into bed with someone who clearly, clearly, Arthur, could not be less attracted to me--"

"You would not," Arthur says, very low, "be using me. If anything--"

"What?" Eames says when he breaks off. Arthur is silent, and Eames snorts. He shouldn't have come here; he should have known it would never be simple, with Arthur. It's almost worse, like this, because he would be helping, wouldn't he--but he needs to end this. "Fine. I'm leaving."

But Arthur catches his arm when he turns away, his hand tightening to keep Eames there. Eames whirls around.

"What?" he demands again. Different expressions war on Arthur's face; he can't seem to bring himself to answer. Gritting his teeth, Eames says, "What the hell do you want, Arthur?"

"Forget it."

Arthur takes a step forward, to brush past him dismissively, but Eames' hands come up and shove him back a pace. "No."

He at once sees the way Arthur's eyes widen slightly, the sudden lift of his chest in a sharp intake of breath. The way he sways, abruptly passive, and in the back of Eames' mind: a dim little light.

"Arthur," he says, soft now. He lifts his hand to touch Arthur's face, and Arthur skitters a bit, like a scared animal, without ever actually moving away; and there it is again, as soon as Eames' palm is cradling his jaw: that quick inhalation again, the shaky exhale. Eames swipes his thumb gently over Arthur's cheek. He doesn't know what to say.

"I thought you knew," Arthur says hoarsely, after a minute. "I thought you knew I was ... attracted to you." His mouth twists on these last words, miserable and embarrassed.

"No," Eames says, quietly in awe. In his mind Arthur has always been off-limits, better left alone than thought of in that way. But--he wants. Is shocked, actually, at the sudden blaze of want that ignites in his chest. Not since Henri has he wanted so badly. He wasn't sure it was even in him, still, to feel so drawn to another person. He takes his hand away, considering.

"It doesn't matter." Arthur's gaze flits from the wall, the door, finally to Eames' face. "If you want to. Just go. I'll be okay."

"You asked me to come over," Eames says, carefully, and Arthur's gaze lands on him again and holds there this time. "Arthur. Tell me this isn't just the insomnia."

Arthur swallows, answers a little too quickly, "It isn't."

Eames edges a little closer--because oh, he wants to kiss Arthur so badly--it's been so long--but this time Arthur does move away, a nervous jerk.

"Eames--that's not--"

Kissing isn't part of his ritual, Eames thinks. Not helpful. He thinks of what had made Arthur lean toward him, like a little moth to light, and he has an idea of how Arthur likes it.

"I know," Eames says. He steps back, and makes his voice as flat as it will go. "Sit."

Arthur's eyes narrow, not sure of this new tone. Eames doesn't give him a chance to think too hard about it. He backs Arthur up against the bed, then puts both hands on his shoulders and shoves him down hard. Arthur grips the edge of the bed tightly, gazes up at Eames and says nothing. His tongue flicks out briefly to wet his lips.

"Is this what you want?" Eames asks. "You want to be pushed around?"

Arthur glares, but his fingers dig tighter into the bedsheets, bunching them up. Hoarse again, almost in a whisper, he finally spits out, "Yes."

"Then get up," Eames says, flat and low. "Strip."

Arthur gives him another look, this time unreadable. But his pupils are blown wide and colour is creeping up his neck. Eames marvels: Arthur is turned on. He licks his lips again. Then he gets up, pulls his tie off, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He hesitates, once it's open and loose; Eames steps forward, yanks it down off his shoulders, and tosses it aside. Then he curls a hand around the top of Arthur's trousers and gives them a tug.

"This too."

This time Arthur obeys immediately, his fingers fumbling to get rid of his belt, unbuckle his trousers. Then he's pushing it down, pushing everything off, stepping out of his socks and pants and straightening up. He's lean and pale and very, very hard. Eames lets his gaze linger, lets Arthur see how he looks him up and down and takes his time about it.

"What?" Arthur demands, finally.

Eames looks him in the eye and shakes his head. "You're wasted on women, Arthur."

Arthur snaps his mouth shut and flushes, clearly not sure how to respond to that.

"Get on the bed," Eames says.

Arthur's flush deepens. He only hesitates a moment; then he turns around and gets onto the mattress, on all fours, facing away from Eames. This is how he does it, Eames thinks distantly. Quick and dirty and anonymous, no eye contact. This is what he likes.

He tugs open the bedside table drawer and finds what he was looking for: lube and condoms. The condom packet he tosses onto the bed; Arthur startles a bit at the sound and looks down at it. Then looks back, when he hears Eames snap open the cap on the bottle of lube.

"You want this?" Eames asks, even as he dribbles the lube onto his fingers. Arthur swallows, quickly, staring at Eames' hand. He nods. Gentling his tone, Eames says, "I need to hear you say it, pet."

"Yes," Arthur says.

That's the green light Eames needs. He pushes Arthur's thighs apart a bit more, traces his hole with one finger, teasing, until Arthur is almost trembling, clenching on nothing. Then he pushes it in: one finger, and then two, working him open carefully.

"You're so tense," he says after a couple of minutes, momentarily dropping his dominant front. Arthur huffs a shaky little laugh.

"I usually do this part. Before I hook up."

"Foreplay with a partner can be nice." Eames twists his fingers, to demonstrate. An involuntary sound, almost a whine, leaves Arthur. Eames lowers his voice. "But foreplay's not what you want, is it, darling?"

"No," Arthur agrees.

He's more relaxed now. Eames withdraws his fingers. Arthur turns his head to look when he hears the click of Eames' belt buckle, but doesn't watch long enough to see Eames tug his cock out. His hands are white-knuckled in the bedsheets; he's nearly trembling again. Eames tears the condom packet open with his teeth, and, taking it out, he pauses for a moment, realizing how very long it's been. Henri had been distant, less and less interested in sex, that last year. Eames can't even remember the last time Henri had wanted him as badly as Arthur clearly does now.

He rolls the condom on quickly, squeezes the packet to dribble a bit more lube onto his aching cock. He doesn't bother taking his clothes off--there's something about having Arthur naked and vulnerable under him, and being fully clothed, that he thinks Arthur will appreciate too.

"Okay?" he says. Arthur makes an impatient sound.

"Just fuck me."

"Bossy," Eames says. Then he takes Arthur by the thighs and yanks him back a foot, so his legs are hanging off the bed to either side of Eames, his cock trapped against the mattress. He sucks in a sharp, startled breath, broken off when Eames guides the head of his cock to Arthur's still-tight hole and pushes it in. He slides home in one go, until his denim jeans are pressed to the backs of Arthur's thighs, and holds there, just to savour the moment, the fluttering clenches of Arthur's hole around the base of his cock, and the little gasps coming from Arthur.

"This is what you like, isn't it?" Eames says, sliding his hands up and down Arthur's sides. His voice is gravel. "You spend all day in your tight little suits bossing people around. But at the end of the day, you just want to get thrown around and used up and fucked. Is that it?"

"Please," Arthur groans, his face pressed into his folded arms.

"Please what?" Eames wraps his fingers around Arthur's hips and digs in, pulling him back onto Eames' cock another half inch. Arthur groans again.

"Move. Please."

"Good," Eames says, and he starts moving, dragging his cock out partway and punching back in. Arthur absolutely melts, with an unintelligible sound.

"You like it from behind, Arthur?" Eames isn't even sure where the words are coming from. Some dark place inside him. He fights to keep his voice level, not to sound out of breath. "D'you face the wall when you're getting fucked in scummy back-alleys by strangers?"

"Eames," Arthur says, his voice wavering.

Eames hitches his hips up off the bed for just a moment, just long enough to see that Arthur's cock is red and rock-hard, a string of precome connecting it to the sheets. Arthur puts his head back down with a groan, embarrassed: he likes this.

"You'd let yourself get picked up by anyone, wouldn't you?" Eames feels a flash of anger, suddenly. He drags his nails down Arthur's back, eliciting a stifled yelp, and fucks in harder. "You don't care who fucks you when you need it bad enough. You wouldn't even care if they wore a condom. You'd probably let me come inside you. You just couldn't say no, could you?"

He's almost snarling, and Arthur is panting under him, struggling to meet his punishing pace when he has almost no leverage.

"No," Arthur spits out, after a moment; and Eames comes back to himself all at once. It's not Arthur he's saying these cruel things to. It's not; and Arthur's response hits him right in the chest.

"No," he echoes, softly. He stops, holds himself just inside Arthur. This isn't right.

"What are you--" Arthur twists around, confused, and wanting.

"Turn over," Eames says. Arthur goes tense under his hands.

"That's not how I do this."

Eames pulls out, and Arthur makes a low, frustrated sound when Eames' cock leaves him.

"I don't want to hurt you, Arthur," Eames says.

"I want you to!" Arthur snarls. His voice nearly breaks. "I'm asking you to. Eames--"

Eames rolls him over. His eyes are red and wet, his face and chest flushed. He's still hard and dripping precome. He tries to twist away from Eames' gaze, but a light hand on his chest holds him in place.

"Let me take care of you," Eames says firmly. Arthur looks at him for a moment. Then, defeated, he tilts his face away and slings an arm over his eyes. He wants it too badly to fight. Eames lifts Arthur's thighs, wraps them loosely around his waist, and Arthur holds them there when Eames lets go. He reaches down, has to guide his cock to Arthur's hole, and this time he gets to see the way Arthur's lips part when his cockhead pushes in, the breath leaving him in a gust.

He pauses again, once he's fully seated, and leans back so he can pull his shirt off and cast it aside. Arthur moves his arm so he can see what Eames is doing, and his eyes travel down Eames' chest, following each swirl of ink. Eames lets him look. Then he winds an arm around Arthur's waist and starts fucking, in and out, a less rapid pace than before. They make eye contact, just for a moment, and then, impulsively, Eames leans down and kisses him.

He's not expecting the response he gets. Arthur makes a soft, needy sound into his mouth and arches up into him suddenly. Eames brings his other hand up, drags it through Arthur's hair, and Arthur positively whines. Eames kisses him hungrily, but gently, with no teeth, and he can feel Arthur absolutely melting into it. The world narrows down just to them, and all the places where they're in contact with each other. He shoves Arthur further up onto the bed, and Arthur breaks their kiss to make a short sound of dismay when Eames' cock slips out of him again; he looks dazed, punch-drunk. He gladly wraps both legs around Eames again once Eames has climbed up onto the bed with him, trying to pull him closer, and he cranes up into another kiss while Eames circles his hole with blunt, pressing nudges until he finds where to ease back in.

They stop talking for awhile--sometimes kissing, sometimes just panting lightly against each other's faces. Eames can feel a familiar build-up of pressure and he wants to drag this out, but he knows he can't last, not with the way Arthur clenches so sweetly around him. So he fumbles one hand between them, and Arthur tenses, startled, when Eames wraps his hand around his cock. He reaches, gets his own hand around Eames' wrist and grips tight. But he doesn't say anything, and after a moment Eames starts stroking, gathering up precome on his fingertips to ease the friction, and Arthur's thighs tremble on either side of him. That's all the warning he gets before Arthur is shooting over his hand, tipping his head back and gasping, and Eames takes the opportunity to kiss his neck before his own climax steals up on him. He hilts himself inside Arthur with a groan, seeing white sparks on the backs of his eyelids, and rocks shallowly through it for a long, long time, shivering and jerking, until at last he comes back to himself, panting shallowly against Arthur's neck.

They lie together for a minute, just catching their breath, until Eames peels himself away and lets Arthur's legs fall limply to the bed. He looks utterly debauched and exhausted.

"I'll be right back," Eames says reluctantly, and Arthur just closes his eyes and nods. He pauses. "You're okay?"

"I'm good," Arthur mumbles.

It takes an effort for Eames to leave the bed, and Arthur. But he forces himself to get up and walk away, only a little unsteadily. He goes to the bathroom, where he gets rid of the condom and grabs the first towel he sees. Arthur hasn't moved when he returns to the bedroom.

"I'm gonna clean you up a bit, alright?" Eames says. Arthur just moves a hand limply, which Eames interprets as do what you will. He wipes Arthur gently clean with the towel, his stomach and between his thighs. When he's done he steps back and peels his trousers off, leaving his boxer shorts on. He collects Arthur in his arms and maneuvers him around, placing his head on a pillow, and drawing the covers up over him. Arthur doesn't even struggle.

"I'm gonna sleep here, okay?" Eames says; but Arthur is all but insensate by now, and only makes a vague affirmative noise. Eames switches off the lamp, walks around to the other side of the bed and crawls in under the covers, with Arthur, where it's warm. He can't remember the last time he slept with another person. They're not touching, but it feels right all the same.

"Thank you," Arthur says suddenly into the darkness, and despite his exhaustion, there is real warmth and gratitude in his voice. It's an odd feeling, to be thanked after sex, and Eames has an abrupt misgiving--that, at the end of all this, to Arthur, perhaps, he was only doing a favour for a friend.

"Just sleep," Eames says, because he can't unbox this right now. He's tired, too. Arthur must take his advice, because neither of them say anything after that.

[mcunholyfics]

Fairgrounds (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Reader and Peter go to the fair together where he ends up saving her, revealing that he's Spiderman. They also reveal some hidden feelings along the way...

Warnings: Slight swear, lots of fluff

A/N: This is loosely based on a request, and as always, let me know what you think!

"The fair’s in town this weekend!” 

“Shhh Mrs. Delphino will be mad at us for talking again!” Peter whisper-shouted as your teacher sent a glare in your direction, making you giggle. You weren’t afraid of her, but it was adorable that Peter was. 

“Oh come on Peter, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited.” You whispered back, just quiet enough to keep under Delphino’s radar.

“Of course I’m excited! I just, kind of have plans on Saturday night. You know, the Stark internship and all...” 

“That’s bull!” You replied, slightly louder, making Peter shoot you a pleading look. “Fine,” you began softer, “Go to the internship, but meet me at the fair by 7 p.m, no exceptions. I’m sure Tony Stark, king of parties, will allow you one early night off.” 

“Yeah I guess I could get off early, only for you, y/n.” He replied with a light tease. Was he your best friend? Yes. But did you have a massive crush on him? Also yes. Because of this, you couldn’t help the barely noticeable blush that appeared on your cheeks. “Why the red face?” He asked, genuinely oblivious. Your eyes went wide as you thought of an excuse.

“Mr. Parker! Since you seem completely preoccupied by your conversation with y/n, why don’t you come up to the board and solve this equation for the class?” 

Peter sheepishly complied in response, and you’d never been more thankful for Mrs. Delphino’s dictator-like attitude. Your answer to Peter’s question would have to wait for another day, and that was fine by you. 

Saturday night arrived much faster than you anticipated, and choosing the perfect outfit was extremely important. The fair was just outside the city, and would likely be cold, so you decided on a cute sweater with jeans and sneakers. Logically, you knew it wasn’t a real date, but the thought of spending a night out with Peter always gave you butterflies. Glancing at your clock, you realized it read 6:15 p.m, and that you should leave soon if you wanted to beat traffic.

Hailing a cab was second nature to a New Yorker like you, so you were quickly able to obtain transportation and tell the driver your destination. Thankfully he didn’t try to make small talk, so you were able to enjoy a peaceful ride with your earbuds in. 

“Alright, we’re here.” The cabbie said, breaking you from a daydream about Peter. You paid the man and exited quickly, excited for the night ahead of you. Just the sight of the ferris wheel and all the rides excited you. The sun was setting, and the colorful lights were just being turned on. Quite simply, it was gorgeous. Your clock read 7:00 p.m on the dot, so you sent Peter a quick text letting him know you were at the front gate, waiting.

It took a good 15 minutes before the poor boy came stumbling out of his aunt’s car, jogging to meet you. “Y/n I’m so sorry! We got caught in traffic and-”

“It’s fine.” You smiled, cutting him off. “I’m just glad you’re here.” Peter grinned back at you as the both of you entered the gates to the fair. Being the gentleman he is, Peter paid for your entry and unlimited-ride-wristband, knowing the two of you would go on plenty. “What should we go on first?” You asked.

“Hm, I’m thinking the Rock-and-Roll ride that spins you around in a big circle really fast?” Peter suggested, his childlike excitement very evident, only making your heart swell. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed, joining the long line. After what seemed like forever, you were both seated in a red “car”, with him on the outside and you on the inside. A bar was placed over your laps and the ride took off, slowly at first before speeding up immensely. Due to the speed, you were pushed into Peter’s side, squishing him, you thought, as you desperately tried to grab the bar and pull away from him. 

“It’s fine! Don’t worry.” He assured you with a laugh. Listening to your friend, you stopped fighting the inevitable force and allowed yourself to be completely pressed against his side. Peter put his arm around you to make the closeness more comfortable, and suddenly there was no where you’d rather be. 

The ride reversed and went backwards, faster than before, causing the two of you to scream in joy as loud rock music blared over you. Once the ride finally slowed down, you immediately missed Peter’s warmth and close proximity, playing it off with a smile. “Where to next?”

"How about we get some cotton candy? I just saw a couple pass buy with a huge one, I couldn't pass it up." He replied. You grinned at his excitement and nodded, following his lead toward the vendors and stands. They didn't take long to reach at all.

"Wow! They really are huge!"

"What, didn't believe me?" Peter teased before ordering a blue one for the two of you to share. It was perfectly sweet and melted easily in your mouth, causing your eyes to widen. "See? Told you it'd be good."

"I didn't even say anything!" You protested.

"Didn't have to." Peter winked, causing your heart to beat a little faster. You expertly hid your blush again by looking at the flashing lights on food trucks as you walked past them.

"So how was the Stark internship today? What did you do?" You questioned, considering he always kept his answers vague in the past.

"I-I uh, Mr. Stark was actually back in town today and I sort of job-shadowed him a bit. I can't talk about it much though because it's his personal life." Peter answered hesitantly, causing doubt to rise in your mind. Then you remembered something.

"Peter, this morning I saw a news broadcast about Mr. Stark in Dubai..." You trailed off. His face showed panic before he attempted to hide it.

"H-He was there yesterday, the broadcast must have been delayed." Peter assured you, avoiding eye contact by looking at a UFO ride you passed. He was clearly uncomfortable, so you decided to drop it and move on for the night.

"Oh! Let's go to the giant ferris wheel!" You suggested happily. From Peter's expression, you could tell he was happy to change topics.

The two of you made it there in no time, and looking up at it from up close, you realized just how tall it really was. "You ever been up that high?"

"N-no never." Peter replied shaking his head, and you chuckled at how nervous the question made him.

"Come on." You said, grabbing his hand and heading through the ropes to the front of the line. Thankfully it wasn't busy at the moment.

"Enjoy the ride." The worker said as he closed the gondola door behind you, leaving Peter and you in an enclosed space. It was pretty big, actually, but you still somehow ended up sitting side-by-side to keep warm. The ferris wheel started turning and the sight from above was beautiful, neon colors of the fair contrasting with the dark night. You glanced at Peter only to catch him staring at you, but he quickly moved his eyes away.

"What?" You asked with a grin, genuinely curious as to his stare.

"You just..." He hesitantly began.

"Yeah?"

"You look adorable admiring all the lights." Peter mumbled, looking out at the fair himself now.

"So do you." You sheepishly replied, returning your gaze to the lovely sight. Both of you sat there, looking at the fair, hearts beating fast as you dared not look at the other. The ferris wheel stopped with your gondola at the very top to let someone on at the bottom.

There was someone down below that you thought you recognized, so you leaned against the gondola's rim to peer over. Immediately, Peters hands were around your waist. "Be careful!" He warned protectively. 

You turned around to laugh at his seriousness when suddenly, the side you were leaned against flung open and, with no time to react, you tumbled out. 

This is how I die, you thought, but you didn’t exactly make it far. You stopped falling right away, and, opening your eyes you didn’t realize had closed in fear, saw Peter holding your hand. After your immediate fear of death passed, you realized it wasn’t his hand holding yours. A web?

Wait

Peter uses spider webs? Did Tony Stark give him some of Spiderman’s webs through the internship? Did- OH!

“You’re Spiderman!” You exclaimed in shock and fascination as he pulled you back up with strength you never knew he had. “That’s what the internship really is! And that’s why you’re always busy! Oh my god Peter! But that also means you risk your life all the time! What the hell!?” He let you ramble and rant for a minute with an uneasy expression on his face. 

“Y/n, you can’t tell anyone.” Peter pleaded, extremely vulnerable and defeated. It broke your heart to see that he didn’t trust you. 

“Peter... Of course I won’t tell anyone. And I’m sorry if I overreacted, but why didn’t you tell me? Do you really not trust me?” You asked, hurt clear in your voice. 

“No! No. I trust you I just, I never knew how to say it.” He answered softly, and you knew it was the truth. Here he was in front of you, your best friend, your crush. The sweetest and smartest kid you ever knew. And now, you discovered that he risked his life all the time to save others, with no desire for fame or fortune. Peter Parker truly was amazing beyond compare. 

You drew him in for a hug without words, maybe a little too tight, but his arms quickly wrapped around you and returned the squeeze. Without breaking the hug, you said, “Now that I now you’re Spiderman all I’m going to do is worry about you...” It was slightly muffled by his jacket, but the message was clear.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m tough, I can handle bad guys.” Peter replied, pulling away slightly so you could see each other. “Why would you worry about me anyway? I thought you hated me?” He teased.

“Quite the opposite actually. In fact, sometimes I think I like you too much.” You admitted, feeling that the time was right. It was his turn to blush. 

“Have a thing for superheroes?” 

“Nah, but I do have a thing for dorks.” You playfully responded, making him smile so wide his eyes crinkled. The ferris wheel started turning again so you took your seats. Peter laced his fingers with yours as you waited for your turn to get off at the bottom, which came sooner than you would have liked. 

Even while exiting the gondola, your hands stayed together, as if a new bond had formed that was only held together by fingertips. Peter stopped for a second and seemed to scan your face, with an expression that can only be described as complete happiness. 

You didn't need to ask him why he was looking at you this time, cause you already knew.

[hansolmates]

jun; stupid cupid (m)

feat. matchmaker!Jun x female reader

genre/warnings: university!au, fratboy!svt, semi-crack, lots of silly humor and fluff, minor use of penetrative sex toys, slight dom!Jun

word count: 8.4 k 

summary: After seeing your best friend get paired up through an alleged matchmaker, you can’t help but wonder about the credibility of his business. Wen Junhui, your resident Cupid, can’t help but take on the challenge of setting you up with Mr. Right. (Un)fortunately it seems like that person is right in front of you.

for @wen-junehui, remember that jun loves you to lil bitty bits and misses you

College is supposed to be some sort of life-changing experience, but the only thing that is currently blowing your mind is the lack of experience.

“I’ve accepted it.” You groan, plucking out another lace panty from the meticulously folded display. “I mean, why am I even buying sexy underwear if I’m not even gonna show it off?”

“Because these are absolutely adorable!” Your best friend squeals, going through the drawers with practiced ease. You swear that your best friend buys way too much underwear because her nightstand is overflowing with them, but for whatever reason she thinks the 8 for 28 is such a steal every other month and drags you along for the ride. She brandishes a cute pair of boyshorts decorated in pink peach animations, dropping it in her bag. “And don’t you feel so hot when you’re wearing cute underwear?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“You suck.” She pouts, her little body weaving towards the display of body sprays. With a flourish of her hand, she hikes her shopping bags higher up her arm to spritz a ruby tinted bottle on the inside of her wrist. “Vernon loves the smell of strawberries.” She warbles thoughtfully, her voice just as light and sweet as the perfume. Vernon Vernon Vernon. You remember exactly how your best friend got around to dating the guy, a moment of happenstance. You remember the night she stumbled into your apartment sporting a yellow bruise on her hip, claiming that she ran into the banister and then Vernon ran into her, causing both of them to tumble down nearly half a staircase in the Academic Building. (“But we’re alive!” she hummed as you pressed a bag of frozen peas to her leg, “And I got his number!”)

It seemed like after they started dating his presence grazed nearly every conversation of yours like a fine blade. “How exactly did you guys start dating? When you two fell down the stairs, did you guys immediately fall for each other too?” you ask, picking up another pair of peach underwear for yourself.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Throwing the ruby body spray in her bag, she props a hand on her hip. “But no, actually. Jun introduced me to him beforehand, the whole falling-down-the-stairs thing was just the tipping point. Get it, tipping point?”

“You’ve inherited your bad jokes from Vernon too, right?”

“Possibly. But you should definitely meet Jun if you need some help in the dating department. And considering you spent the last three nights holed up in your room with your vibe,” your friend cackles shamelessly at the way you blanch, “I’m sure he’s the perfect guy to set you up with someone.” Without even asking she hands over her cell phone, swiping down the contacts. “Give Wen Junhui a text, you never know.”

With a scoff you accept the proffered device, your lazy eyes trailing down the ten digits and pretending not to care at how potentially precious this person’s number could be. You watch your best friend trail behind the register. In plain view you saw the easy smile on her face as she talked to the cashier about how it was “date night” and how she thinks that Vernon would find the pineapple boyshorts the perfect amount of “booty to her cutie”. While it was a disgustingly worded phrase, you had to admit that while her and Vernon were pretty stupid, they were stupidly adorable together.

Biting the inside of you cheek, you quickly add Wen Junhui to your contacts list before you could regret anything.

[You] Hey uh, you hooked my best friend and Vernon Chwe up last year. I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate what you’ve done for them! They’re super happy (to the point of me wanting to throw up my own blood, in a good way, I swear) and I want to thank you. If you have any pointers as to how you did that though, I’d really appreciate it.

[Jun] lol so you want to be matchmade? just had to ask. Meet me after my class tomorrow if you’re free, room 2125 after the 1:10 session.

[You] Sounds perfect, see you then!

You visibly flinch at how absolutely desperate and needy you sounded before you could bring up the topic of needing his help, the fact that you probably sounded like a 40-year old virgin with a stickler for proper grammar. The thought of being “matchmade” sounded incredibly forward and almost too daring for your comfort, you couldn’t even recall what Jun looked like from the parties his brothers had hosted from previous semesters.

The awkward small talk was already on the tip of your tongue as you fiddle with your phone, the screen indicating that it was already 1:10 and students were milling out of the room like ants. Leaning against the wall by the door you pretend to busy yourself with the buttons of your light blue button down, playing with the small plastic like it was the biggest conundrum of your day.   

Your eyes cling to the pair of black Vans that suddenly parallel yours, and you hear your name being called. You blink and look up at the caller, mouth subconsciously parting open and unable to close.                                                 

Oh hell no.

You can’t help but wonder how drunk you were the night you visited his house, because you would definitely remember a guy like Wen Junhui. He leaned opposite from the wall, clutching the strap of his half-slung backpack and looking mildly amused at your wide eyes. You blame the undying thirst for human contact, but you couldn’t help but take in the fact that his burgundy and navy striped button down was crispier than a bag of Lay’s potato chips, and the way his onyx jeans were impossibly tight around his lithe frame, contrasting his warm blond tresses. He was a tall glass of something special, and you couldn’t believe he was interested in helping you.

“Uh, hey Jun!” you say, your throat feeling more cramped than a rock and hard place. You try not to contract at the obligatory handshake, the way your hands disappeared under his large ones and linger on your skin a tad too long for comfort.

“Hello.” His reply is velvetine, his voice comparable to the taste of raw honey. “You’re tense.”

“I’m—I’m not!”

Jun pouts down at you disapprovingly, the pink tint in his uneven lips reflecting in the yellow light from the building. “I was told you’d be awkward.”

Damn you Vernon.

“But that’s okay.” he adds, “It’s kind of adorable.”

With that he gestures for you to follow him out, and it takes you all of three seconds to smack your face when he’s not looking before falling into step. It took two long strides for you to match up to his one lazy step as you walk outside to the main yard of the campus. There’s a stretch of metal tables and open grass for the students to lounge around, and a pizzeria to snack in before the next class period.

With the minimal talking you could practically feel Jun’s stare as you order a slice of pizza for yourself. Is he silently judging you because you want the mac and cheese pizza? Wordlessly going outside, you find yourselves a two-seater under the shade.

Jun comes out seconds later with his own slice of pizza and a pepper flake shaker. Taking a seat, his hands violently pat at the pepper flake shaker, fiery red flecks coating the slice of cheese. You raise a brow questioningly, making a face at the excessive amount of pepper.

“What?” he asks, not bothering to look up. “I like my things spicy.”

Trying not to choke on your mac at the implications of his comment you chew harder, looking away from him to stare at the Starbucks that was crowded out the door. Jun didn’t seem to mind, and went back to adding some oregano and decorating his pizza like it was the finest piece of art to graze the campus.

“So,” your eyes flicker back to Jun, and you’re surprised to find that his pizza was already a quarter of the way eaten. “Who’s the guy that you’re interested in?”

You mentally blanch at the comment, suddenly feeling dehydrated. It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to ask something like that, after all, he was here to matchmake you. But the bluntness of his question just made the possibility of you getting out of this single-rut so much more possible, and it simultaneously excites and terrifies you. The problem is however, there wasn’t really a guy under your radar. Sure, there’s really attractive guys here and there, but nothing to make you hide under the table and blush like a middle schooler.

The matchmaker himself looked at you expectantly with those deep cacao eyes, and with a bitter taste in your mouth you reminded herself that Wen Junhui could not be an option.

Your eyes dart back and forth past the guys in the grass area, two of which you know very well. They’re seated on the plush foliage, laughing about something on one of their phones. The one with the blond hair that challenged the brightness of the sun is Yoon Jeonghan, a medical student with a heavy reputation for being simultaneously smart just as he is irritating. Irritating in a good way, unattainably so. Would it be too cliché to ask if Jeonghan was single? Was this a question Jun got asked on the daily? To be honest you didn’t mind dating anybody, heck even a blind date would do nicely. Biting your lip, you ponder the friend next to Jeonghan.

“Wonwoo?” You wondered aloud.

A pregnant pause. “Wonwoo?” Jun cries aloud, so loud that the people behind them are startled by the outburst.

“What’s wrong with Wonwoo?” You snap, ripping a piece of crust with your teeth.

“He’s boring.”

“I think you’re mistaking boring for intelligent.” You retort sharply, looking back at Wonwoo and Jeonghan to find them lounging in the sun, Wonwoo’s head on Jeonghan’s lap. You watch as Wonwoo’s face scrunches up at something Jeonghan says, his nose crinkling adorably. “I think he’s pretty cute.” When Jun didn’t answer right away, you glare at him. “Were you like this when you set Vernon and his girlfriend up?”

“No. They’re losers.” he shrugs, “They’re perfect losers together.”

“True. Then are you saying that Wonwoo and I can’t be a perfect match?”

The challenge in your gaze bothers him, the sharp plane of his nose lifting up in defense as he drinks in your hard stance. And in one fell swoop he collapses, stuffing the last of his crust in his mouth and shrugging his broad shoulders. “I’ll find your perfect match.” he promises, crumpling his paper plate. “My methods are foolproof.”

“I hope so.” You reply. “So, how does this work? Will you set us up or something?”

“Something like that. But first, are you free Saturday afternoon?”

“I guess, why?”

“Because you’re going on a date.”

And that’s how you ended up spending your Saturday in the corner of the Korean-Japanese fusion restaurant, wringing your fingers under the table as you watch Jun order the both of you a mango shaved ice. Your eyes drift over to the open street, knowing your apartment was just a way’s off the road in case you needed to run back and hide before Jun knows all of your deep dark secrets.

You look down at your unfinished bowl of chicken katsu, regrettably noting that when you assumed that Jun said you’d be going on a date, you didn’t expect the date to be with him. It was simultaneously unnerving and exhilarating, every time Jun asked a question about yourself you’d fumble to answer. It wasn’t about being coherent, but it was doing your best to sound interesting. You would’ve given anything not to sound boring like he claimed about Wonwoo, you reasoned to yourself. No way, no way did you want to sound interesting because you were so allured by the fascination that filled his tawny gaze when you answered something. Maybe you’re embellishing your life a little bit, but it was well worth it knowing Jun was holding onto the other end of the conversation like a leash, his attention focused on nothing but you.

“So,” he drawls, waving his spoon around. “Have you read any good books lately?”

An innocent enough question, but enough to make you furrow your brows together and mull over the last time you’ve ever read a book for fun. “Huh, kinda?”

“Have you read King Lear?” he asks airily.

“Uh, no.”

“Ah, my bad. You look like you’re into romance. How about Me Before You by Moyes?”

You raise your brows, “Are you into romance?”

“No.” He says, “they’re Wonwoo’s favorite books. I’m just trying to gauge potential conversations you two could have. It’s be a whole lot easier if you actually had things in common.”

The way Jun said it, hurt. you felt the familiar pang in your chest, the feeling of rejection you’ve tasted too many times to count. You didn’t know if it were possible for you to have anything in common with anyone you’d be remotely interested in, but you’ll take your chances. You force yourself to bite back, waving your own spoon around. “We do have things in common! We’re quiet and sensible and intelligent!”

“Sounds like a study buddy rather than a boyfriend.” he teases, momentarily distracted by the waiter dropping off their mango shaved ice between them. “Oh, they put Fruity Pebbles on top.” he giggles, stabbing his spoon in the middle.

You try to ignore the way that Jun’s face lit up at the sight of the confection, his coral pink tongue darting out to lick at the beads of mango juice that dribbled onto his lips. It’s so uncharacteristic of the charming, calculated Wen Junhui you acquainted yourself with earlier this week, and it was terribly attractive.

Wonwoo who? The evil subconscious was asking yourself, because all you really wanted was to be matched up with anyone, but then Jun had to go ahead and ask if you were interested in someone specific. If you said no, you would’ve sound desperate (which wasn’t a lie) but at the same time ultimately pointless if you really didn’t even like Wonwoo in the way you claim you do.

Jun calls your name, once, twice. You probably look like an idiot, staring intently at the colorful mochi that dotted your desert. Shaking your head you ask, “Yeah?”

He grins, “I’d like to take you out on another date.”

Cupid help me.

Jun explained that you two were hanging out so he could get to know you (“For Wonwoo, of course.”) But it seemed like Wonwoo was a brittle foundation for what was really going on between the two of you, at least in your head. Jun was enigmatic, charismatic, and every single -matic that seemed to gnaw at every fibre of your being whenever you two hung out. He asked a lot about you, and you were fairly sure he knew all the unnecessary things about your life from the way you like your tea to your unbalanced study habits. You never found it necessary to ask about Jun, if he really wanted to tell you his life story he’d say it.

Sometimes he didn’t even have to say it.

You press yourself further into the mirror, feeling the heat of the room circulate further and further into your face. It was as if you were turning into furniture, because Jun was so absorbed in his own dancing that he probably wouldn’t blink at the thought of you leaving at this very moment.

But you can’t leave. He is captivating. The music pounds so far that it reached through every cell of your body to the point that your heart must’ve pounded, too. Beads of sweat pool from his gold bangs, glistening like little gems against the white fluorescents. Every move he conducted is calculated, the way he moves his hips back and forth in the rhythm, in control of everything in the room.

The music stops, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Wow,” you gape, “You’re really good.”

He blinks, momentarily distracted as he tried to unplug his phone from the speaker. “What were you saying? Something about me being tall, dark and handsome?” He broke away from staring at the mirror to smile at you, sending you a playful wink that had you folding your legs closer to your chest.

You scoff, pushing yourself up, “Did you just bring me here to show off?”

“Did it work?” he rubs his neck with a white towel, his head tilted cutely. “The look on your face says it did.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll meet ya there.” He holds out his hand. “Now do you want to dance with me, or not? Before we got to hell, of course.”

The relationship doesn’t feel as business-like as you anticipated, and you can’t gauge as to whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Today you opted against hanging out with Jun because of a little kitchen accident in the beginning of the week. You were trying to cook pasta (and how the fuck does anyone manage to screw up cooking pasta, but you) and you accidentally burned your stomach leaning against the stovetop. You were sporting a pretty pink burn under the layers of bandage, lying on your bed with your laptop on your lap.

Two knocks on your door and you didn’t bother to reply, continuing to stuff more white cheddar chips in your mouth. Halfway into your second chip two more knocks echoed through your room, and you sigh a half-hearted “Come in!” before letting your eyes roll back to your dimly lit laptop screen.

“Hello hello, it’s your favorite person in the world.”

You bite the inside of your tongue at the sound of his voice, jolting so far in your bed as to disrupt the dull pain in your stomach and have your laptop slide dangerously to the edge. Jun pops his head in, the gangly thing then ducking his way inside with his sock-clad feet and soft grey sweatpants. He must’ve gotten in through one of your roommates, the sneaky bastard.

“Favorite person?” You scoff, propping the pillows up so you could look at him properly. “Who told you that lie?”

Jun quirks his lips in a crescent smile, plopping his long body on your bed. Truth to be told, it was a little much when you insisted on cancelling your plans for today because of a little burn you got five days ago. But it was moments like this why you can’t handle Jun, especially at your weakest moments. He demands attention, and unfortunately you were more than willing to give it to him. “Don’t deny me.” he says, stepping inside and making a beeline to your bed.

He started bouncing on your thin mattress, each bump creaking the weak wood as he dents your duvet.

“Jun, my roommate might hear.” You glare, “She gets really nervous when you hears noises late at night, she’s terrified of ghosts.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet.” Jun murmurs in that all-too familiar milk-and-honey drawl, his fingers trailing over your flannel shirt. “Can you do that for me, doll?”

No matter how dark it was, you could always see his pearl white canines poking through his playful grin, edging you on. It was infallibly frustrating, the way you felt him hover over your bed like he owned it, and yourself dipping further and further into the plush blankets like you’re being swallowed in a sea of cotton and silk. This was beyond friendship, but then again what you two had wasn’t exactly friendship.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me.” you half-hiss, your fingers curling expectantly over the duvet, ready to fight.

“But I need to do this. I’ll die if I don’t.” he resorts to a puppy-pout, revealed through the moonlight that seemed to hit him like the way a spotlight would be so perfectly planned to aim at the right moment. “It’ll benefit the both of us, I promise.” he murmurs, his saccharine-drenched  words trying its hardest to destroy your sanity.

“It’s going to hurt.” you whimper.

“Only if you let it hurt.” he reasons calmly, “Just relax.”

“Okay, nope.” you grit out, shooting up like a silver bullet and pushing his chest away with both hands. The attempt was destined to be futile, and he bobs an inch forward only to come even closer to you. “Get the hell away from me!” you cry as loud as you could between the thin walls of your suite, backing further in an attempt to grasp the cool metal of your headboard.

His gaze suddenly darkens, and if it wasn’t obvious by his looks, it was definitely felt in the air. It was fueled by his ambition to win, especially when you two fight over petty things. “That’s it,” he growls, jumping forward to grasp at your flannel pyjamas, his fingers going under the sensitive skin.

With a fierce tug, he pulled at the bandage that wrapped around your stomach with a sickening riiiiip.

“Jun!” you cry with a yelp, tears pricking the tips of your eyes. Screw your roommates, the pain was unbearable. Your hands immediately grapple at the tender flesh, white hot needles pricking at every crevice of where the bandage settled itself. “I told you not to take it off! It’s still healing!”

“You were whining like a baby all week!” Jun shot back in frustration, his gangly arms up in the air. The slightly yellowed bandage dangles in his grasp like a trophy. “Girl, that burn needs to breathe! How do you think it’s going to heal if you don’t let it see the light of day?”

“Quit being sassy to me and say you’re sorry!”

“Why would I say that, that’d be lying.” he raises his eyebrows in innocence, and if it was just a little lighter in the room you could imagine how satisfied his smirk must look. “Problem solved. You can heal your burn and I can leave knowing I’ve done my good deed for the year.” he got off the bed, his weight sinking into your fuzzy carpet.

“Get out.” you seethe, pulling the the covers over your body, “You’re never allowed over ever again.”

“I’m okay with that.” he shrugs, already halfway out the door. “See ya in the morning, doll.”

Ignoring the way he blew a kiss in your direction, you groan, throwing the white duvet over your frame. Like the burn Jun was absolutely painful to deal with, but even more painful to be without.

“So what got you into matchmaking?” you ask, twirling your cup of hot cocoa with the café’s tea spoon. “Did you just watch Hitch and get inspired?”

“No.” he replies as if you told him elephants could fly, his brows furrowing together. You can tell he’s never watched the film before, even though it was sorta-kinda representative of his situation. “I married my best friend’s sister two years ago. Talked to her old high school sweetheart for her because she was too shy.”

“So what, they dedicated you at the wedding and all that?”

“Yup. And a little figurine of me at the bottom of the cake.” He deadpans, drawing triangles of condensation caught by the hardwood. You could tell that there’s more to this story, but he doesn’t look terribly inclined to share. “Why, are you questioning my ability of getting you a hot date?”

“I mean, I’ve only heard stories.”

“I’m not doing this to play with people’s hearts, that’s never my intention.” Jun looks up, his eyebrows disappearing under his fluffy fresh-from-the-shower bangs.

“Then what is your intention?”

He then puffs out his cheeks, something he’s been making habitual these past few weeks when you’re together. The expansion in his mouth causes the apples in his cheeks to bloom a fresh shade of cranberry.

“To make people like you happy.” His smile is trapped between his lower lip, his teeth fighting the urge to not smile too hard. He looks embarrassed, his gaze focused on his half-full coffee. “I’m sure Wonwoo’s going to make you very happy.”

The authenticity in his reply suddenly made you feel very guilty, and you look down to your own drink, feeling your lip quiver as you bite your straw.

“Hooooolllllyyyyyy shiiiiiitttt.”

How the hell did your best friend get the key to your suite? Her voice was too loud, like call-the-police frightening.  

“Holy shit, Kerry!” she screamed towards your roommate, the flabbergasted voice echoing from the living room. You hear the padded footsteps of your roommate coming to the main dining area at the beckon. “She bought a new bra! And it’s sexy and made of lace! Our girl’s boutta get laid!”

You freeze, spitting toothpaste foam all over the sink. Rinsing once and swiping your mouth with a towel you storm in the living room where your two girlfriends were currently gushing about your new purchase from Victoria’s.

“Guys!” you cry, gaping at the two of her ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’-ing at her latest purchase. “I have a date with Jun and he’s going to get here in thirty seconds so will you please fucking leave—”

“Hey.”

The front door shutting sounds more like your fate being sealed, ending with social suicide as Jun appears at the front of the doorway. He looks effortlessly chic as usual, despite the fact that he’s only in a black and white raglan and cuffed jeans. He grins amusedly at your friends, his canines popping against his cheeky smile.

“Hi Jun!” Your two friends pipe up, and Kerry was still holding your new bra up in the air.

“Hello ladies.” he tilts his head to the petite pair that are grinning eagerly at him, then turn to you. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

The door slams shut just as quickly as it was opened, and you glare at your two friends menacingly as soon as he was out the door. “You let him in!” you huff angrily, quiet enough for Jun not to hear from the hallway but loud enough so that the two ass-brats would get the picture. “You let him in and let him see my underwear!”

“But don’t you want him to see your underwear?”

“I do!” you hiss, reaching over to rip the bra from Kerry’s grasp. “But when the door is obviously locked and we’re in the moment not when your curiosity,” two pairs of smirks creep up on you, “makes you act like two year olds with no sense of privacy!”

Your two friends are going off like Bonnie and Clyde, spitting comments back and forth to each other like a juggle tag team.

“She’s been going out an awful lot with Jun these past couple of weeks!”

“Shit you never even goes out with me that much.”

“That’s sayin’ something. I bet this bra is the make or break of this relationship—”

“Shutupshutupshutup.” you grit out, stomping back into the bathroom. The silly giggles of your friends only continue in your head as you close the door shut. Frustrated exhales escape your mouth, echoing against the faded yellow tiles. Holding the royal blue bra in your hands, you untangle the straps in an attempt to put yourself back together.

“So, we’re here.”

Maybe you were a little over your head when he said your plans for the night were a surprise. A walk around the bridge, maybe more silly conversations over mango shaved ice. Romance is not dead, you convince herself, but it was certainly unconventional. The large house of ΣΛΤ is  a beacon of strawberry milk pink in the middle of the street, making the dark houses pale away in the darkness. Girls and boys were hanging out on the deck, Converse clad feet dangling off the railing and and red cups lazily cupped between their fingers.

“Um,” you bite your lip, realizing that this was the moment. Jun’s about to set you up with Wonwoo. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“I didn’t spend a month with you preparing so you could run away when the magic really happens.”

“If the magic is in there,” you wince as one of the brothers trail down the stairs with only a pair of green and purple Patrick-esque boxers, “I want no part in it.”

“What are you talking about?” Jun furrows his brows, holding his arms out to you. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Your heart warms, and it wasn’t because of any alcohol, at least not yet. You look down at your plain mustard tee with the embroidered rose on the side, tucked into a pair of light wash shorts. It really is nothing special, despite the fact that you may have spent a good half hour in front of the mirror fixing your makeup, it was nice to know that someone still appreciated the effort you put into your appearance.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” Before you could make another nervous protest, his hands splay across the small of your back, fire hearth warm as his grip melts through your shirt and into your skin.

The inside wasn’t as much of a mess as you anticipated, but nevertheless it was a party. Lee Jihoon’s lips purse fretfully as he toggles with his MacBook in his respective corner of the couch, presumably in control of the synthed beat that reverberates through the building. The room is comfortably crowded, and for once you don’t feel like sweating in a college party.

“Here,” Jun hands you a small glass of something clear and questionable, “Liquid courage.” His voice is terse as he took his own gulp of the liquid, smacking his lips and pointing his pinky to a corner in the back. “Won’s over there.”

You take your own shot, feeling the alcohol burn away your throat as you saw Wonwoo with some brothers playing darts. He is adorably dressed in an oversized black hoodie, but there was no denying that you felt absolutely nothing for him. It was the inevitably tragic high school movie twist: you can’t help who you’re attracted to. You poke Jun in the chest with your glass. “Another one.” You mumble.

He raises a brow, but took your cup away to refill it once more. “Drink up, buttercup.” He toasts his glass to yours and you take another one together.

By the third one you start to feel dizzy, and while Jun isn’t necessarily swaying, you feel like he’s moving much like a jellyfish from his stagnant position by the kitchen table. He grasps your shoulders, leaning down and tilting his head next to yours. “Ready?”

“Mhm.” Ready for what?

And all of a sudden he whirls you around, enough to believe that the world’s axis had broken. He lets go of your body, and instead of being reunited by his warm hands you feel a frosty grip take its place.

Wonwoo calls your name, and smiles down at you. You’re surprised he’d even remember you, from that one god-awful business class where you didn’t utter a peep. He’s remarkably sober, looking like he’s been having a good time. Your semi-inebriated self hopes you wouldn’t be the one to ruin his night. “Hi!” You squeak, your voice an octave higher than normal.

“You came here alone?”

“I came with Jun.”

“Ah,” Wonwoo’s eyes clear, and he nods in realization. “So I suppose it’s me then, right?”

A shot of lightning courses through your body, and you realize that Jun was nowhere to be found, and it was just you and Wonwoo in the kitchen. Wonwoo knew of Jun’s escapades, but he seems willing to fall into them like quicksand, slow and steady.

But falling in love, falling in like, or just crushing on someone isn’t willing at all. You can’t help what your heart wills for, and your heart wasn’t willing for Wonwoo.

“Yeah,” you sober up quickly, “I suppose it’s you.” But you were shaking your head, trying to rid yourself of the music that was eating at your eardrums. “But it’s not you, I’m sorry.”

You squeeze Wonwoo’s shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. You had no idea whether Jun told Wonwoo about you or not, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t want any of this. Your stomach hurts and your chest hurts for turning down a guy you claimed you wanted, your brain hurt from all the running around you’ve been doing this past month. Turning around you leave the house, needing a breath of fresh night air. Jun is hanging by the door, in the middle of talking to another brother.

“What happened?” he pulls away from his slouched out form.

“I’m going home.” You declare tersely, trying to brush past him.

“What? Why?” You could hear his feet bouncing against the pavement, his long legs taking no time into getting in front of you. “Are you crying? Did he do something to you?” It wasn’t until you brought a hand to your cheeks that you realized that slow streaming tears were in fact flooding. You rub a hand over your eyes, uncaring of your smudged liner.

You hated how Jun felt the need to bend down and look you in the eyes when you couldn’t even find the strength to run away. The way his carmine eyes bore deeply into yours, his soft golden hair contrasting against the night sky as his lip worries in a frown. It’s frustrating, being so needlessly coddled by him when all you want is to go home and pretend he never existed.

“Please, I’m fine,” you hiccup, doing a shit job at looking fine. “Just let me go.”

You feel bad for pushing past him and ignoring how fucking sad he looked as you stalk away from the house. You feel bad for yourself, because you feel absolutely awful for playing along all this time because you couldn’t admit how much you liked the matchmaker himself.

[Jun] Open the door

[Jun] open open openopenop

[Jun] ur not deaf

[Jun] i cn hear you BREATHING

Trashing your Half-Baked Ben and Jerry’s, you hop off your couch and pad to your door, only standing but not opening. You’ve been ignoring his messages the past couple of days, which was probably a shitty thing to do but considering you’ve been feeling nothing but shitty it seemed appropriate. You could practically feel Jun’s insistence through the door with each rap at the wood, your hands twitching with the urge to open it. You miss him. And you hate hate hate it.

So you open the door and muster the sweetest smile you could possibly conjure, because you’re weak and at this point uncaring as to whether you could salvage your friendship or not. “Hey.” You feel like you were practically hacking out the word, it had only been a few days and it was more than enough just to have your heart skip when he’s looking right at you.

“Hey,” he echoes breathlessly, blinking shamelessly. He looks tired, like he just came from a day full of classes. “I honestly didn’t expect you to open the door. You’ve ignored my texts all weekend.”

“I haven’t.” You reply defensively, opening the the door wide enough only for his lithe body to slip through the cracks. He dumps his bag by the door, following you to the couch. You pick the corner farthest from him, but he decides to sit at the coffee table in the middle, stretching his legs out to face you.

“Saying K when I send you a whole novel is considered a felony in my books.” He says bluntly. “Was there something wrong with Wonwoo last night? Because I know he says some stupid shit but we all gotta accept that people can be a little weird—”

“It’s not about Wonwoo.” You say levelly, crossing your arms.

“Then what? Did I do something wrong?” He jabs a finger in his chest, looking palpably annoyed. “Because I just did what you wanted me to do. Is that not what you wanted?”

“It wasn’t.” You mumble, rubbing your fingers over your forehead.

“Then what do you want?” Both of you were equally frustrated. Jun, not knowing what direction to turn to, feeling cheated out of his own work. And you, frustrated at yourself for not being honest with him, for being too scared and stupidly insecure to realize that the one thing you wanted was right in front of you.

You take a breath, wanting all the butterflies in your stomach to fuck off and let you handle this on your own. “Jun, you matchmake people because you want them to be happy, right?”

He gives you a funny look, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Yeah. I told you that.”

“Well, I’m happy with you.” you confess, your words feeling both gummy and dry against your mouth. “And that’s all I want, I’m sorry I wasted your time and couldn’t tell you sooner.”

You feel all the air in your system evaporate, the weight you’ve been harboring disappear from your shoulders. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, Jun’s expression warping in and out of the room as he lets your words sink in. You can practically feel your heart rate accelerate and unable to keep up with your body, ready to take a trip down the road so you could never fall for someone ever again. The chestnut wood of your coffee table creaks in protest as Jun gets up, his hands gripping at the armrest and the couch cushions, effectively trapping you.

“I want that, too.” Is all he says before he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

Jun’s lips feel pillow soft against yours, and tasted like cotton candy and red hots rolled up into one superdrug because you were both heavily confused and aroused by the turn of events. You sigh at the loss of body movement, letting Jun shift the both of you on the small couch that definitely wasn’t capacitated for extended making out, but it wasn’t stopping either of you.

“‘Mm still angry that you lied to me,” he mumbles, nibbling your bottom lip between his teeth. You take this opportunity to let your lips dance over his jawline. “But there’s multiple ways to curb anger, if you wanna get a head start.”

He rubs himself into your belly, and something in your body stirs equally in response.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to answer, a little wobbled at the sudden turn of events, but the tension in the room was high and the both of you were more than ready to make up for lost time.

A few more rushed kisses to his jaw and you’re pushing him off, tugging him into your room.

In a rush of making your way to your bed you bang your knee against your open drawer, yelping as you land on your sheets. You expect him to pounce on you just as he’s ambitious for everything he does in school, but his eyes dart over to the glass item that rolled around the shaken drawer. Looking towards you in question, he bends over to pick up the object in question.

“Is this?” his eyes were practically blown apart as he looked through you with your glass toy, the amethyst color tinting his view of you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch Jun utterly fascinated by the pink dildo. You can’t tell if you’re sweating from how turned on you’re on, or your sheer embarrassment, possibly both. You ordered it online sometime ago, but ever since you moved in you haven’t been able to try it out to its full capacity. Attempting to use it with enough alone time in a dorm filled with three other roommates was moot, you were lucky your mates were out at the moment. He held it in an almost embarrassing childlike wonder, feeling the smooth material like it was silk. His eyes flicker between you and the pink bulb expectantly.  His gaze is thick, and full of want.

“Uh, yeah.” You choke out, feeling considerably less bold. “I haven’t used it yet, though. I haven’t been able to, y’know.”

“Probably weren’t ready for it yet.” He says, plopping on your bed. “But I can fix that.”

You couldn’t find the air for a snappy retort when Jun reaches over to cup your sex, his fingers mapping out constellations over your clothed core. You whimper off like a switch, throwing your head back to hit the wall as you quickly squirm out of your underwear, digging your heels into the blanket.

Jun traces figure eights into your dampened skin, his tongue making a path in the dip of your collarbone. He slips a finger in, and with a few experimental thrusts you were already writhing in your own world, absorbed by his warm touch.

“Tight,” he murmurs simply, letting your juices butter around your folds, coating his long fingers. He inserts another, the squelch of your arousal echoing in the small bedroom as he thrusts slowly. You feel his fingers scissor and stretch you out, feeling every minute pressure of your skin as it conforms to his digits.  

On the other hand you definitely feel cheated, Jun’s fully clothed and here you are, oversized shirt hiked all the way up to your chest and revealing the propped up hem of your cobalt lace bra. Your body is so hot you’re almost sure the clothes would singe off before you managed to remove them.

“Jun,” you huff, tugging on his black shirt, “off.”

“Lights off?” he murmurs into your skin, thrusting deeper.

“Ngh, no.” You cry, swiveling your hips distractedly, “take it off.”

“Take the lock off from the door?” he hums jokingly, “Then everyone will see me fucking you. Unless you’re into that.”

“Fucking take your clothes off or I’ll do it for you.”

It got silent, only the dirty sounds of his fingers inside you painted the room. He lifts his head from your neck, looking down at you with his molten eyes. “Is that a threat, doll?” He adds another finger, stretching you even further. It stings a little, but it still felt feels pleasurable as you’re under the hypnotic spell of Jun’s gaze. “I wouldn’t go around being mean to the one who’s making you feel this good. I’m still a little upset, don’t you want to apologize to me?”

Everything is getting blurry and clouded with stars both from the night sky and your mind, quickly succumbing to his molasses drenched words and soul-searching stare. You manage to take off your shirt and bra, throwing it across the drawer. His fingers are still welled deep into your core, your hips thrusting against his.

“Look at you fucking my hand,” his tongue darts out to lick his lips, gesturing for you to look at the way his hands disappear like a mantra into your body. “Looking absolutely pretty, who knew you’d be so good at this.”

His other hand reaches to unfurl his sweatpants, easily shucking them off to the side. Your eyes can’t help but focus on the apparent bulge between the white boxer-briefs, but you continue thrusting in his hand, feeling the high quickly approaching.

“But I think you’ll be even prettier with this inside.”

With a “pop” he removes his hand, and before you could groan in protest he wiggles the cool glass toy in its place, rubbing your fluids against the smooth surface. You nearly forgot about the dildo, but now your thighs are practically on fire, and with a firm push the head was already inside of you, gliding like butter through your folds. The pressure is almost decadent, you never knew how useful a sex toy would be until you had Jun using it to it’s fullest. Your juices squelch in pattern to his thrusts, his eyes mesmerized as he watches the pink dildo appear and disappear before him.

“J-Jun, don’t stop,” you sigh, your voice overwhelmed with breathy distraction and overstimulation, “Mmph, I need more,”

“Are you sorry?” He asks tauntingly, slowing his pace, and you can feel his warm grip linger across your folds, blocking the dildo’s path.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, edging your lips closer to the toy, but he only pulls it farther.

“Sorry, for,” he presses the head inside, and you whine, aching for sweet relief.

“S-sorry, sorry for—ungh—ple-ease,” you could barely formulate a reply when he swirls your gloss with the tip, “Sorry for, ah, not telling you I wanted you.”

“Are you sorry that you missed out on this?” he stage-whispers, leaning his body so every inch of his skin was against yours as he returns his thrusting to a steady pace. His other hand moves to trap your wrists above your head, preventing you from moving too much. His voice is rough yet smooth, gliding across the shell of your ear. “Are you sorry that we could’ve done this sooner?”

“Mhmph, yes!” you sigh aloud, lifting your hips to match his pace, You dig your fingers into his palm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please just do whatever you want to me and don’t stop!”

Letting go of your grip his long legs move to straddle you, going over one of your thighs in particular as he thrusted the toy faster. Resting his pelvis on your outstretched thigh he cants his hips against your bare skin in tandem to his movements, the thin material doing absolutely nothing to hide his hardness.  Feeling his dick against your skin only made you even wetter, your slaps getting louder as you start to hit the peak of your release. Getting messier you feel the stars in your head implode into supernovas, your fingers squeezing the sheets taut and your walls clenching around the toy that was now equally hot as your body.

You’re numb, but still willing to go farther once you see the hunger in Jun’s eyes. He pulls out the toy with a painful slowness, and you shiver from the sensitivity. Your juices are dripping from your orgasm, and Jun brings it up to his face. Looking straight at you, he licks the toy.

Your clit twitches in betrayal.

Throwing the toy across the bed his long arms reach for the drawer, pulling out a condom from the same place he found your toy. Somehow his shirt is already off, probably stripped away in the middle of your orgasm. He quickly throws off his boxers, and his dick stands erect, scarlet with pearls of precome at the tip. The foil rips like it’s being cut with a thin blade, Jun quickly throwing the condom on his hardness.

“Do you still want more?” He asks, running his hands over his dick a few times. As sexy as the phase sounded, his gaze looks nothing but boyish in front of you, waiting for your consent. It was uncharacteristic of his previous control but nevertheless welcomed. Moonlight decorated his hair, reflected by the cracked window and the navy sky.

You manage a small nod, and a careful “Yes.”

“Good.” he hovers over you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Because I want to give you more.”

Your hands splay across his chest, running across his neck before securing a grip on his shoulders. Jun adjusts the two of you as he rubs himself at your entrance, filling you up. You gasp, lifting up slightly to grab onto Jun’s shoulders as he stretches your folds, feeling comfortably full. He groans into your ear, the sound echoing through every pore of your body as you felt him start to rock against you. This was by far better than any silly toy, and it didn’t feel as if you were satisfied just moments ago. You wanted more, and Jun was here to give you everything you needed. His hips snap against yours in a steady rhythm while his smoked out breaths sighed into your ear, murmuring your name and telling you how you’re good, so good for him.

“You feel so nice,” he groans, his thrusts getting sloppier as he edged on, “Nggh, you feel so good with my cock stuffed in you, does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes it feels good,” you whimper, unable to catch up to his messy thrusts. His dick went all the way to the spongy spot in your body, one that was making your head spin. You feel the walls connecting you two slicken, giving him more room to fuck you harder as he lifts your leg to penetrate deeper. “Mmph, Jun, keep going—” you encourage, reaching a hand to rub circles into your clit.

His hips were going at a fierce rate, slapping against your skin as you moan in pleasure, writhing your head and marking his back with your crescent shaped nails. “Come around my cock,” he husks out, his voice quickly losing traction, “So I can come too.”

His mouth was gaped and against your neck, sighing and gasping for release when you squeeze his dick, and with a final thrust he collapses over your sticky body, moaning in satisfaction. His face plants itself into the crook of your shoulders, nuzzling your skin. With a couple lazy thrusts he pulls out, a blind hand reaching to safely remove the condom from his body. You close your eyes in an attempt to settle your breathing, focusing on the inhale and exhale of your chest as Jun gets up to dispose of the latex. Your eyes slowly return to a mere half-liddedness, a notably perkier Jun returning to your bed and putting his face close to yours.

“Hi.” He chirps, carding a hand through your sweaty strands.

“Hello.” You smile weakly.

“So, are you satisfied with your service?”

“Satisfied? Jun!” You laugh tiredly, slapping his shoulder.

“Has my performance as your matchmaker improved your lovelife?”

“I don’t feel the need to satisfy your ego after you just pounded me into my mattress.” You reply tartly, snatching the blanket and placing it higher above your chest.

“Please?” He lets his face sink into your pillow, his eyes twinkly and sweet in the dark room.

Sticking out your tongue, you reach a finger to poke his nose. “My lovelife,” you shuffle to press his lips to yours in a half-hearted, glowy kiss. You feel Jun’s hands warm up to your sides, pulling you closer. “And yours, is definitely satisfactory.”

[emmyewesseyesee]

hannah diamond – soon i won't see you at all

while much of the pc music fanbase seemingly devoting the bulk of its attention to the eagerly anticipated follow-up to charli xcx’s number 1 angel with tomorrow’s release of pop 2 (fuelled by its array of pcm-and-related production talent inc. a. g. cook, easyfun, life sim, lil data and SOPHIE), hannah diamond has managed to stealth-like slip in under the radar with a most incisive and impressive 3-track mix of her own: soon i won’t see you at all. and while xcx’s relative profile, following and notable guests will naturally attract disproportionate attention, there’s an argument that diamond’s long-overdue offering may well be the more essential pcm-based release of late 2017.

it is diamond’s release schedule that has probably suffered most at the hands of a. g. cook’s time invested in artistically directing charli xcx: it’s been almost a year since her last release, “make believe” (december 2016) and she didn’t even get to make an appearance on the pc music all-comers' may month of mayhem.) in the meantime, she’s undoubtedly been busy writing and preparing music, and her fine photography continues to shimmer (her work for gfoty’s gfotybucks greatest hits was simply divine), but as she finally escapes her (trapped in a basement?) musical hibernation, it’s clear she’s unfurling her wings anew with a fresh maturity set to the very best of cook’s untempered, untamed, provocative pc music sound.

interestingly, i think this might be the first time that pcm have deployed external mixing talent with geoff swan on fader duty over agc’s production, and this seems to bring more atmospheric richness and warmth to his trademark epic, expansive and experimental composition and hannah’s angelic solos and vocoder-enriched choruses. in fact, the production retains the glitchy, restless and irreverent edge of the best pcm releases with the generous mix serving to provide a vast and impressive sonic cathedral of reverb and wonder into which cook can pour his intoxicating mix of insanity, sincerity and genuine pop candour.

indeed, it’s a cathedral brimming with invention and emotion, a stunning journey across just 12.5 minutes, and as per usual it sparkles from start to finish with pristine colour, clarity and the expertly cut facets of only the highest carat diamonds. it opens with the achingly sentimental a. g. and hannah-penned “never again” with an intrusively blunt keyboard beep accompanying diamond’s plaintive vocal overture before melting into a background of deliciously dripping glockenspiel arpeggios as her song continues. when the orchestra drops out at the 2:05 mark, an exquisite vocoder choir arrives to carry the track to its gorgeous reverberating conclusion – as per usual, never satisfied with the usual, the augmented semitone f# in the (dmaj7?) chord at 2:09 with it subsequently reverting to f (dmin7?) is just supreme – and the juxtaposition with diamond’s lo-fi closet practice verse is a sheer delight, the absent-minded ‘tra-la-la’ trail-away over thunderstorm reminiscent of trevor horn’s smart outro to pet shop boys’ “left to my own devices”.

track two is a redolent and reverent yet no less challenging cover of gareth emery and christina novelli’s 2012 dance banger “concrete angel”. from the outset, it manages to combine claps-on-two-and-four tick-along authority with enchanting tenderness and mystery, before diamond’s vocal climbs to new levels of eloquent expression via her “if you keep building these walls, brick-by-brick towers so tall…” perfectly clipped syllables. then as she gives way to a touching quotation of “an incredible sense of peace” and being “in the presence of angels”, cook decides to unleash last every ounce of demonic mayhem left over from may. he dials up the tempo from an already punchy 130 (via 65) bpm to a frenetic 170bpm and conjures a heady mix of slam-echo drums, fantastical flanged vocoder harmonies, astonishing rave crescendos and tumbling sub-bass. the final 30 seconds is up there with the most deranged, brutal ruckus of anything pcm has produced to date.

diamond and cook’s “the ending” closes proceedings with head-nodding pop aplomb of the highest order, its shuffle-step beat teasing mellifluous keys and delightful harmonics along to fabulously innocuous yet addictive effect. hannah’s introspective stream-of-consciousness narrative is as deliciously naïve yet utterly heartfelt as ever. on the one hand, the playful “got your text” is greeted with the most subtle of mobile notifications (and props for keeping this so low in the mix!) while the gravity of “stop my heart sinking” is matched by its own darkly ominous, slapped saw-tooth bass-line, and the resolution via the “going or going or going or gone” round is clickingly hypnotic.

perhaps the most impressive thing about this release is that, despite the clear ambition to grow and develop hannah diamond’s perfect pop sensibility, a. g. cook resists the temptation to shy away from the more acerbic angles, anarchic composition, eclectic key changes, harsh overtones and arresting beats towards the more contentious fringes of his repertoire, and this serves to add yet more heft to diamond’s output and more radiance to her impeccable clarity of vocal. in fact, i believe that it’s this steadfast, undiluted and unapologetic defence of craft matched with an incredible sense of control that is truly setting new benchmarks for pop accessibility.

should you wish for more hannah, you can read emmyewesseyesee’s review of “fade away” here and listen to the mix below.

[punkscowardschampions]

Janis & Grace & Jimmy

Janis: Fucking Phones! *Janis shouts, her frustration kicked into overdrive, phone shotput at the nearest wall before she can think about it. If it wasn't broken before, like. Paces over to the shattered remains, not to cradle with regret, but to put the boot in further, stomping heavily on the useless hunk of junk 'til she's satisfied. Deep breaths were saved for AFTER the storm, not some pathetic vain attempt to stop the inevitable. She was well past that stage. Had she EVER been so naive to be at that stage? Had she ever tried to stop herself? What was the point? She knew how strong she was, how strong IT was, knew better than to get in her own way, like. As she was pondering what the fuck to do now, someone who had NEVER learnt to get out of the oncoming tide's way walked through the door. Oh, Gracie. How many times have you been left shattered on the floor? Stung to think about. Not just 'cos she'd got glass in her feet that needed dealing with. But first- Despite agreeing with Jim earlier, Janis knew her twin better, knew there was more to it. What she did not know was what to do about it. Whatever it was. Gulp. An olive branch disguised as you'd be doing me a favour. That'd have to do it.* Grace? Can I borrow your phone quick, like. *She gestured to the crime scene below her feet.* Grace: *She's a liar, concerned with only the promise that today the gym would be packed, and it was. Every lad who flexed to get girls had eyes for the ones they ranked before Grace walked in, and the girls that were above it, or faking that they were, locked onto their camera roll as they did their work out, looking at themselves, 'done with anyone else, honestly'. She took selfies herself, because without being focused on the insta numbers what did she have, a playlist that preached empowerment without giving her any? Tragic. Pathetic was all she felt next to them, solidarity wiped off her radar by the invisibility she needed and hated. Fuck the sisterhood. Mother nature's turned her back and over it without a 'thank you, next. There's more space at home for her than here. Beyond tragic. Still she goes there minus any juice or coffee stops, there's no craving that can touch how much she doesn't want to run into the growing list of people who she'd die if she had to deal with being around. Obviously she near collides with one of the first immediately because OH MY GOD she can't get a break right now. Coping with only being wanted for her phone is easier than expected though. Grace unlocks and hands it over wordlessly, keeping her attention on what is gestured and so #relatable.* Janis: *Janis nods her thanks, doing her level-best to pretend her sister, silent, wasn't a total headfuck; Wished for many a time but she'd never professed to being careful, had she? The tapping out of a quick text the only sound allowed to occupy the vast space between them. Allowing the awkwardness to grow, as if it could bridge the gap, Janis read his reply (received in record time, by the way) and made huge effort not to smile smugly because she REFUSED to be one of those girls, even though that had had the potential to unite her with her twin in the past, it felt like a bad move now. She wasn't one of those girls either. Not really Not deep down. And she certainly did not seem it nowadays. Oh how we have changed, my friend. She handed the phone back as silently as it had been given, intent on leaving it at that but, for some reason, words tumbling as thoughtless as the rain of violence had upon her own phone just moments ago, she just asked her.* Do you want to come out with us? We're not doing anything exciting, like. So you don't have to...But if a bit of normality sounds good, though; gotta walk the dogs and his brother and sister, run some errands up town. *She finishes lamely with a casual shrug, as if that took nothing, as if they always did this kinda thing. Before they did, but the past was a different place, a town they didn't occupy any more. Whether you thought that a tragedy (and Janis did think it that, too) or otherwise, it was what it was.* Grace: *This headfuck adds itself to the pile, leaving her again, clueless as to who the fuck she is. Grace had long been thinking it of her twin, before barista boy had moved in and got her shaken off from her sister totally, but it's pushed away whenever it enters her head and tries to shake up her own persona. No way and no time like. Until now that it had run out for her anyway. It doesn't matter what her mum said, over and over, she feels broken. And ashamed. And somehow, Janis knew that without knowing, offering her a pity hang to keep the vibe from leaving her alone. Obviously she could go off, hard, in the moment and get everyone else to leave her but what was the point if that's her only power? A pity party is the only one that'll be thrown for her these days, there's no choice but to cope with that. Later. After she's called Janis out in gestures and expressions that scream UGH and AS IF because too much has changed to let go of that. Even as she realises she's accepting, all 'thank god I showered and changed at the gym' crossing her mind and face.* Okay, Jan, no need to beg babes. *Grace fluffs her hair, smiling wide enough to hurt. Later too.* Gotta change my bag first like OMG, a dog that cute has just gotta come home with me. Unfair that your feed gets all of her when mine's the most poppin'. She's welcome. Janis: *Janis rolls her eyes but that action, so overused it went way beyond practiced into straight up muscle memory, was accompanied by a less usual smile. Small but conveying the too-big-and-awkward-to-mention idea that today, just this once, she would let shit slide. Still, it'd feel to alien for both if she let her twin get away with EVERYTHING, like. Sympathies SHOULD only stretch so far, otherwise who even were they?* Sure she'll be buzzin' for the fame, Grace. Just be quick about it, alright? I've already left 'em hanging long enough meself with the fecking phone dramas... *And the shower. And the actually taking longer than ten seconds to pick out somethin' decent to wear, somethin' he might like. Push that feeling down, along with the bile it caused. Don't think about it. Deal with it later. She busied herself in the kitchen, NOT like the proper little housewife the stupidity of giving a shit was mockingly making her feel, but by fishing out the promised leftovers for Twix, finding the sparklers, and chucking in some leftovers for the kids too, Holiday food still coming out their earholes here. Again she ignored the mocking voice from within, trying to be rational about it. It weren't like she gave a fuck like THAT, and not about Jim but if their dad was AWOL it was probably microwave meals and takeaway grub, the kiddos may as well have something decent to line their bellies, Lord knows her fam didn't need it. No sense wasting it. So there. Fuck you. Janis grabbed her house keys and chucked her new cropped hoodie over her outfit, untucking her curls and waiting by the door, foot tapping from impatience, nothing more, alright?* Grace: *Grace moves fast, not because she's feeling it herself but she knows Janis is and can't handle the fight, impatience so blatant to cause it that even without a twin connection that Jimmy would see it himself as quick. Her stomach twists painfully, the idea that no man will ever want her again resurfacing before it can be pushed back down. Her body flops down on her bed staying separate from her, face pressed into the tear-stained pillow until she has a reason for not being able to breathe. A small sound comes out, nothing else. The other girl will be charging up the stairs if she doesn't hurry so she forces herself up and does the switch, grabbing stuff she might need blindly. The 'who am I?' question throws itself out again but it's better than any Janis will ask otherwise. Grace reassures herself its her reasoning for no mirror check before walking away. * Janis: *The 'okay, let's do this' doesn't need to be vocalized (need or want? they're two very different beasts but let's both pretend we don't know otherwise), so it isn't. Quickly jostling out the door, matching pace on the short walk to the Grandparent's, like this was a two-step or a tango another dance that required two to- somehow keeping rhythm, keeping time, so well and so naturally between them it was like they'd never stopped being a double act. Now with Killer in tow, the truth that they had stopped being Graceandjanis, presented itself readily in the hugs and love she received and the awkward hellos and suspicious barks Grace did when they made their date. Janis couldn't very well push the kiddos away, no need to be that much of a cunt on anyone's behalf, her sister especially wouldn't thank her for it- but she converted Jim's into a one-arm handshake type hug affair; 'accidentally (who knew?) pushing her extended fist into his stomach with a 'whoops'. She withdrew, choosing to do what she knew how before anything else could be said or done or even thought.* Race ya to the swings! *It was a challenge for the entire group, fuck it, the dogs could get in on the action if they liked, just give a fucking distraction. Bobby hung back Grace too. Janis looked back, wondering if she should run back too, not leave her sister so soon but she found her legs continuing regardless, beyond her control. That was just how it was these days.* Grace: *She can breathe again, easily, of course she can, when they are walking side by side. Grace forgets until the park's in sight, reminding her hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She blinks them away, refusing to be that girl, but the buggy's still there, being pushed in time with her own steps so close she can't help but remember how far away any of that is for her. Frantically she clutches her phone, acting out living a life where what the screen is showing her is something she cares deeply about knowing. The distraction can't last and doesn't. There they are, Jimmy and his brother, his sister keeping pace with a sniffing puppy, kicking her own toes against the ground. 'I feel you girl' she thinks, automatically despite having no idea what the girl's deal is and barely a grip on her own either. They all smile, waves and everything, but hers doesn't hurt now and won't tonight. None of this is real. She might as well not be here, that's not news anymore than Janis being gone again is, so why react to it? It's hard enough pretending to give them her usual vibes. The boy doesn't run when the rest do, sticking with her. What the fuck is she meant to do or say to that? She blinks again, breathing deep and he mirrors it. Too relatable. Horrible. If he starts sobbing she can't just stand there. No way. Janis would kill her. It'd look suss af even if she handled it well, a kid crying with nobody but her around to blame. Oh god. She can't do this. He's looking at her like she trod on his dog with her heels on, and hasn't stopped. Grace bends down to his level with another whispered 'hey, cutie', cussing herself for packing her bag on autopilot because she couldn't guarantee having anything he might like. At a loss she falls into old habits, asking him quietly if he wants to take a selfie. He shakes his head no first, until she pulls up all the best features her phone can offer, filters making him smile wider and wider as he skips through. He almost loses it when she makes herself into a singing dog emoji thing and insists loudly that she send it to his big sister's phone. She tells him to go ahead, all it takes to secure a friend for the afternoon apparently. Grace shakes her head, smiling without realizing it. He hasn't even found her games yet. Just you wait boy.* Jimmy: *It's been a headache getting them sorted, but the fresh air eventually clears it before it turns into more than a heaviness behind his eyes. Janis not having a phone, and the thought of him having to text Grace's more than once had him picking up the pace and the kids followed eagerly despite dragging their feet when he first told 'em to get a move on. Cass has no choice unless she was about Twix wrecking her Christmas trackies in all the excitement of her true love appearing and Bobby makes up his mind just as fast when he catches on too. The park or the cramped four walls of their living room, no contest, like. He was with them both there. #Buzzing he thinks with a smirk that's a grin until it's nothing. She pushes him away, forcing him to push himself to catch back up. He touches the chain of the swing just after she does, dogs at his heels, only moving aside so his sister can jump on (and off as soon probably, but go for it, Cass). No prizes for coming second. He looks over his shoulder for bobby, seeking him out, relaxing when he sees Grace with him. He's alright. Wish he could say the same, having lost.* Janis: *Janis took as much internal pleasure from the victory as she could get- not much, nothing if we're being real (we aren't). Empty as she felt, plenty of room, like; still, she found the silly little 'win' just as hollow. Still, could fake that that wasn't the case, throwing up loser signs as she raised her arms in 'triumph'. Being an arrogant cunt was a surefire way to keep people at a safe distance, that method beyond tried and tested now. 'Let's get this whole situation back to fakery, yeah?' Her every sane impulse urges, terror white hot, cornered animal scared, ready to lash out for her survival, (and his). 'Please, no. I'm not ready to stop this!' The part of her that burns with wanting him, loving- this, whatever 'this' was, begs, thick with need. Need was not allowed. Needing things just meant hurt and disappointment, every time. And Janis felt she had enough stacked already. Call her weak or a pussy for knowing she wasn't super-human, (not even human), for knowing her limits (Weak. Pussy.) Enough was enough, do what you do best already, and run; run so far ahead of him that all he's left with is your dust, not even memories, good or otherwise, to remember you by. Forget about it, kid. Ignoring Jim might be a task she was up for the challenge of but ignoring Twix proved near impossible, Janis patted the pup's head absent-mindedly, just to get her to calm down a bit, like. Working out what was wrong when she was met with manic sniffing, she dug around in her pockets and produced a bone. She tossed it lazily but it still flew a great distance through the air out into the open field. She then had the perfect excuse to casually follow after the running dog. So chill. So natural.* Jimmy: *He pushes Cass on the swing a few times, helping her get the speed up she needs to make the jump, but hard as he goes for it, it doesn't help. The only thing that's gonna is to sort out why Janis is being off with him. He asks himself first, thinking that since Grace was being uncharacteristically quiet too that was the answer. Being mad that Gracie has invited herself to tag along made sense but taking it out on him was a dickhead move like. Shrugging to convince any watching sisters that he didn't give a shit, he jogs over to where the two of them are, bending to annoy Twix 'cause that'll get to her most.* Gracie coming too town too? I see how it is, getting coffee when she knows her real faves on shift. None taken.* It's bollocks but going off for a smoke'll go down like a lead balloon with Bobby when he notices which means Cass getting pissed off at him when Janis already is. Instead he nods over to where his little brother is, still beside Grace. *We should get in on that, bet our selfie game's well stronger and you'd make a gorgeous bunny mate it has to be said. Janis: *Janis nudges him away from Twix as if the daft thing were hers and not at least part his, making a 'leave off' sound too.* Don't blame me if she goes for your ankles, like. I didn't teach her how to do that or nowt but you know, s'a bitch's prerogative. *She nods, not looking at him, eyes kept on the horizon, as if he were a stranger she was having a meaningless chat to about the weather whilst keeping an eye out for the bus still.* Yeah. Anything to get out the house though, init. *Said as if Grace was driving her as mad as two hyper kids, which usually wouldn't be a lie but currently her sister had about as much life in her as the Christmas tree they'd just chucked. She did her best to ignore the joke about the other baristas, 'cos at the end of the day it was one, it just didn't feel like it when her twin was in such a way. But even Janis couldn't pin that on the boy stood with her now, she had enough pride to not appear entirely irrational, like. She could, however, lower herself to an eye-roll at the equally as jokey suggestion.* Nah. Bobby's cuter. Besides, I'm so fucking sick of selfies. Jimmy: *He shakes his head exaggeratedly, smirking.* No chance. She's soft as. Lot of that going about.* Jimmy nudges Janis playfully. *Like trainer, like dog, don't they say? *Anything to get a reaction out of her that isn't this. 'Cause fucking hell he doesn't get it. They'd had a good day before, only better if he'd beat her at paintball too, and a decent night despite the actually mad amount of family she had for him to meet. This morning she'd been alright with him. Their normal. Until now. What the fuck had gone wrong? Panic makes his palms slick and he uses her nan's husky as means to destroy the evidence before she twigs it to be, patting the dog's head affectionately.* This one on the other hand, #savage. Twix, get taking those notes, hun. *He laughs, hating what it sounds like when it lands, but preserving. Why the fuck not. Might as well go one further he thinks, and does, acting like he'd been shot down by what's actually true as he raises his hands to demand a ceasefire before making a show of putting the phone away and patting his pocket. * You'll change your tune once that new model's in your hand. Janis: Fuck off! *She says, indignant, voice raised. Couldn't even help it, correct button pressed; well done, mate. Nail on head, the ease in which he could do it sickening, a punch in the guts. A warning sign. No, it wasn't. She just got angry, she was an angry person, that was all, nothing more to it. Now calm down. Calm the fuck down before you embarrass yourself further. 1 2 3- Fuck it. Janis snorts, again words out before she can help it. Before she can censor the shit he doesn't need to know. The shit she doesn't talk about. Ever. With anyone.* Yeah well, that's what happens when you're not raised- *Stopping herself before its too late, 'cos nope not going there, not today, not with him. She let him distract the both of them with his amateur dramatics, looking him up and down skeptically.* Not too late to join the drama club, you know. You need an outlet, mate. About as much as I need the newest iPhone and all its megapixels, like. *She does her own mime act, clicking an invisible camera at him.* Grace: *They are playing some brightly coloured tapping game together when his shyness of her wears off. The questions are easy at first, listing off the cats names as far back as she can remember when she tells him regretfully about not having a dog, counting on her fingers and using his when they run out. They are both laughing at the end of it and she continues after hearing his mum was allergic to dogs so they couldn't get Twix 'til she went. Way to own and finalise that separation Mr Taylor, Grace thinks. Such a mood. Janis would 100% approve. She looks over at her sister but her gaze won't linger long enough to be felt. Not now. It just can't. She can't go there. She asks him more about her, this mum who he insists is 'far away', letting him talk. He deserves to say anything he wants, in whatever sense her absence means to him. None of her family do and look at them all. There's a huge part of her desperate to join in, just have the words 'my sister Edie is gone too' come out, but she can't go there either. It isn't right. Not when she means dead and this kid is what, like 5? If her twin's ever shared that info with her she can't find it in the moment, like it matters. She's not gonna offload that on him. No way. Better to keep smiling and encouraging, at least he's thriving off it.* Jimmy: Calm it down! *His own tone stays playful, matching the smirk he doesn't dare to drop. Fuck him for forgetting his shades the one time he needs them for something that isn't posing, if anything in his face gives him away to her they aren't gonna make it to town, making him a peak dickhead. He nods at the next bit, letting her know how 'so relatable he finds it, like' as he looks over at Cass and Bobby both, wearing the 'don't I know it' on his face wearily. Joke's over there. Call it a raw nerve, or too much truth to shrug through.* Yeah. *Before his weariness can piss them both off he takes the out his given to keep this banter jokey. Hip Hip Hooray!* Countin' on it. Shame you've missed the deadline for being one of us art pricks. You'll always have the 'gram though. #blessed. Janis: *'Great' Janis thinks to herself, sinking further into the regret consuming her every thought and action today as she realizes, (or at least presumes), he picked up on the dead sister vibes and now feels awkward as arse. Well done, dickhead. It wasn't as if she could plead ignorance, four years gone had taught them all that other people were crap with dealing with the death conversation. No one wanted the reminder. Least of all them, to be honest. Had to seep into everything, didn't she? Never any good at staying gone. Fuck you, Edie. Janis swallowed following his gaze to Cass and Bobby, taking the time to check up on her sibling too. Nothing, she tells herself, she feels nothing. Fuck them all. Its the blisteringly cold wind making her eyes water, that's all. She grunts in response, hardly worth it but it was all she had to give, not sorry about it. Sorry. She walks on in silence, throwing things for the dogs, shouting out commands, doing her best to disguise the cracks in her voice as a sore throat and nowt else. In the spirit of throwing a bone, she attempts to say something real, give him anything to work with. Purely 'cos this was boring, like. If they were gonna be wasting their afternoon regardless, yeah?*  Let's play a game. You have to answer every question truthfully and straight away, like, if you don't you lose your chance to ask a question back. Meaning I get to go again or you pussy-out fully and call game over then you lose. Got it? I'll even let you go first, gracious victor that I am. Jimmy: *He doesn't know what to do when he sees it in her eyes any more than when he does in his sister's. The fight. He knows what he wants to do, every damn time, but he knows what it'll earn him from Janis. Same as Cass near enough. A smack or a strop off. He's had plenty of the first, naturally, but the second has him frozen in place. He sees it in his head, Janis stepping back as he moves forward and can't bear the maybe like. He breathes out hard, forcing it until he coughs. By the time he has his shit together, it's done. Chance missed for him to go for asking 'why are you being so off with me?' Thank fuck, 'cause honestly he knows the answer, doesn't he? She's fed up now they aren't faking it. He shouldn't hold blame, state of him, but it's there. For himself mostly, thinking she'd be any different. Nobody stays. Give her a few years and Cass'd be off to, looking for better. Bobby after some more. Still, he trails along, trying to be wrong. Needing to be. He feels it when he kisses her, more than his desperation, and if it exists, he can keep on to it.  So he gets a grip now, sorts himself enough to be properly back next to her. Grins when he is, 'cause there it is. A new chance. Fucking hell. Jimmy nods. * Yeah okay. *He catches her eye, challenging her to back down already but bricking it that she might. What would he do then? He nudges her, the contact meaning more to him than the casual gesture lets anyone else know. He tries, ready to lose if needs be. * What's up with you then? Janis: *Janis resists the urge to pull a face, an 'of all the questions' kind of look, 'cos obviously that's the entire point of the game and she was the one who started it so- man up, like. She opts for the classic 'is that it?' look instead, faking out on her answer not being an option (she wouldn't do that to him) but she could at least front some bravado before answering truthfully. She leaned into his nudge as if to prove to herself otherwise as she said-* I'm scared. *A shrug, again, as if to counteract her words. She also fought the urge to ask what was wrong with him too, settling on an easier question, but one she'd still care to know the answer to.* How many girls have you slept with? Jimmy: *There's so many questions that come to mind when she gives her answer but it isn't his turn and honestly, if it was, he's scared too. More than a bit. Probably more than she is, truthfully. 'Cause the feeling is too strong to be alone in, he's about to let her know she isn't, by reaching for her hand and squeezing but there's no time for that. She takes her go, digging at him less than expected. Jim hides his surprise with a snort, shaking his head. 'What are you like?' that gesture implies, but he's bothered more about the state of himself, hiding behind all this bollocks again. He returns the shrug she gave him, easy as. She already knows about Skerries. There's no mystery despite what they all seemed to believe when he arrived as a newbie * 2. I had a girlfriend at home before. Ages go. * He shoots her a look, hopefully unreadable.* That scare you more or less? Janis: *She nods. Honestly, pleased, just a hint of a smile gracing her face. Yeah, yeah, yeah that shit shouldn't matter and it didn't, like; when you were on level-pegging, her bitterness told her, even if Jim's number was low, hers was always gonna be lower, wasn't it? Still, there was only one honest answer to his question. Didn't even compare, like.* Less. *Janis was tempted to ask him why he was wasting questions but she would be doing the same in-turn so, nah. She let herself think for slightly longer than last time, working out how best to play this. Interesting enough to keep him playing but not coming out with the real scary shit 'cos that'd have him quitting even faster if she went there with no warming him up, like.* Why'd you not wait to find a real girlfriend here? Jimmy: *He laughs, it's her directness that does it. Yeah that's the point of the game but she's there shamelessly #buzzing by his 'revelation.' It's the first time he's done something right since they got here and he can't help smiling himself. Finally not a smirk. Cheers, mate. He stops himself shrugging yet again, in case that feels like a step back, though for real, he could care less about this question. He'd never lied about his lack of interest or any of that. Still wasn't. * I didn't want one. *Until he did. And here they are. Scary shit. It's better to focus on the game, something he can ask while still playing safe enough to keep going. What then? Come on, dickhead. There's a part of him, also from ages ago apparently, that wants to blurt out something about that cunt Harry she kept kissing, the jealousy existing, making him feel shitty. Reminding him he is, like. His smile fades. Can't keep anything, can he? *Why me when you could've just told your haters about other school Harry and left it at that? He loved boasting about the two of you, he'd have been enough. Janis: *Janis stuck her middle finger up but she joined in the laughter all the same, 'cos not would give her away more than she already had and she couldn't have that. Just let him think she was a jealous girl or whatever had him cracking up. 'Cos surely she hadn't let him close enough that he could actually know what was up, had she? She considered his answer as she stressed over her own. Guess he hadn't...But why now? What had changed? Was they really still just mates, but with benefits, like? Was that all he waiting for? Oh wait, stupid bitch, YOU have to answer first. And that is way more than your allotted one question per turn. And just much too much in general. Calm it. And answer before you look any weirder.* 'Cos he weren't my boyfriend. Ever. Anyone can get a lad like that to get off with them, didn't really prove anything. Besides, I wanted to help you, like. I dunna why. Sue me. *She pokes her tongue out, turning to face him, walking backward as she asks her next. Changing tact, 'cos she's not sure if she can actually handle knowing the answers to all the questions she'd posed in her head.* Do you really hate it here? Jimmy: *It doesn't seem like she's gonna answer at first, but instead of feeling good about another victory to his name, it just lets in all the shit waiting there in his own head to fill in the blanks. He's heard and told a load to piss off before she gives hers. It's nowt he didn't proper know by himself but there's comfort in how she says 'ever' as a fuck you. Fuck off Harry you prick. The feeling only builds when she gets walking like that, reminding him of Jaden's party. He'd never wanted to stop kissing her that night. Still didn't. Same finality. 'Cause yeah, right now he didn't ever. There it was. So when he shakes his head it's no pisstake. Banter's the furthest thing from the gesture and he let's his face show it. Just for now, like. * Nah, I hate that them two do, but not me. *He looks over at his siblings, Bobbin's taken Cass' place on the swings now but she's stayed nearby, phone out, snapping him. Do it for the 'gram, he can't help thinking, an affectionate smile lingering as he looks back at his girlfriend. *You? Wish you'd kept running when you did one from school and me like? Janis: *Back to nodding again, following the direction of his gaze and topic of conversation, 'cos she gets it. Without second-guessing and stopping herself with 'well their situation is probably worse' type of thoughts, she just lets it come out. The first thing she's ever said to him about Edie. The first time she's spoken about her in a long time, except to tell Grace she's glad she's dead, and that she wished she were too, of course. Standard.* We haven't always lived here, either...Lived lots of places for Mum's job and just 'cos. Ireland was barely Home for the older lot; when we came back my sister Edie hated it so fucking much. Not exciting enough, I guess. Or she liked people not knowing us the rest of the places, unlike here... *She trails off red-faced. Shrugging for cover as always.* What I mean is, probably the exact opposite for them two. Not enough people know 'em. We could change that. Introduce them to the unwashed mass of my lot. They will get more comfortable, you know... *Again the trail-off 'cos why the fuck was she offering up useless platitudes like he was a total idiot? Jesus. Distract with your answer time, bitch. As if that would diffuse the tension any. HA.* Kind of...but nah, not really, 'cos its just the people and their talk and the good and bad memories and all the ghosts, init? No matter the destination, all that shit follows so- It ain't really Dublin's fault. Just nice to take a break sometimes. *She smiles, hoping it'll just be taken as a reference to always having Skerries or some shit, and not the fact that being with him felt like a break, wherever they were. Don't need to scare him off THAT hard. And not yet. Fuck a good decision. For now.* What about you, why'd your Da move yous here? Jimmy: *It's his turn to nod dumbly then, 'cause he gets it, Edie's (supposed) feeling. It's what he likes best about this city, that even when his (supposed) new boy shine wears off, there's still much none of them know about him. Won't. He can breathe here for that, a bit, and does until he's reminded of the limits by Janis says after. She isn't wrong. Here he isn't the lad whose mum vanished, but he still is. Always will be, unless she does some magic fucking reappearing act, and how likely is that? It isn't doable, he tells himself so every damn night and for good reason. But Janis isn't wrong about what Cass and Bob need either. It isn't fair for him to keep them shut in this tight circle knowing that they can't keep their mouths shut. Why should they? They're just kids and its their normal, bound to feel like the kind of shit chatted about over the school lunch table. His hands shove themselves deep in his pockets not knowing what else to do. He wants a smoke bad but isn't far enough away from the park yet. Won't get to be. This is why they're here like. Shit. * Yeah. *It's all he has to say, barely able to look at her as is. Lifting his head back to her level is a bigger challenge than he can rise to now. Loser. Fuck. More than anything else he wants to ask her for a break, demand it, but he can't. Janis hit right on how there's no escaping this. He sighs, pulling his hood up. If she thinks he's only keeping the cold out then he'll take that, if not, he'll handle it when. Fuck it. There's only so much trying Jimmy can do today. * He got fired. Wanted a fresh start then.* He shrugs. All true. He doesn't believe if lying by omission or any of that bollocks. She didn't ask why he was sacked. Why a fresh start had to be so drastic. Those are other questions, ones he's not about to answer come to that.* We goin' down town or what? Janis: *That was it. Game over. Before she even had tie to register his answer he was sick of giving it. His hood and guard back up. Sighing with it too. Oh, how Janis wished it made HER mad. What she wouldn't give to feel that familiar friend close to her right now, to take comfort in its arms when he was shutting her out. But of course not, of course fucking not. Couldn't even have that, could she? All she felt was desperation, desperate to be let back in, to know what she did wrong so she could avoid doing it again, and it made her feel fucking sick. At least the nausea gave her valid reason to spit on the ground.* Can't be bothered now, don't matter, you lot still go if you wanna. *She fumbled in her hoodie pocket for Killer's lead, whistling him over so she could get the fuck out of here, NOW. Of course, Twix came bounding and the oblivious husky didn't. Great.* Good girl, Twix... *She mumbled, giving her some love and a treat, wishing the ground could swallow her whole.* Jimmy: *He starts walking back toward the swings, knowing it'll take ages to get both of them ready to go, longer than Janis is gonna stick around for definitely. Jimmy keeps his gaze there, Twix'll move when Cass does and there and then, if she didn't he didn't give a shit. There's no room for it. He's only filled up with how badly he's fucked this when the answer comes and a question won't follow. His sister starts mouthing off when he makes it clear they're off home but a look sorts it. Gotta leave before he's left, sorry. Cass gets Bobby and Twix with her, which should make him feel worse but there's no room for that either. Not yet. One for later like. The two them say their goodbyes, Bobby gives hugs to both twins. He doesn't. Can't if it's the last. There's nowt to do but this.* Probs text you, Gracie. *He's aiming for a joke, without waiting for it to land. Any answers. It's too much, being fake again. Especially like this.* Janis: *Even though she's the one who said it, AND she was the one who started to pack up first, when he just walks away, without so much as a glance back, nevermind a goodbye, it's like a punch in the face. (Don't you know by now I don't mean it? Dickhead)* Oi! *She pushes past him, letting the shout sail over his head like it wasn't even a little bit aimed at him, rushing up to Cass to give her the bag of goodies she'd foraged.* Enjoy, yeah? *Saying her Goodbyes to both kid's as if her and Jim already had, nothing to see here. Janis grits her teeth, poor excuse for a good-humored smile to match his worse attempt at a joke. Have her, if that's what you really want, just cut me off 'cos I can't keep hanging on your every word, Jimmy Taylor. She says nothing, figuring she can let her twin, like she used to. Feeling that unnecessary and unwanted again.* Grace: *Grace has no idea what's happening, beyond the obvious. The tragic. She was in her own world until Jimmy came through, a world where she could deal with being around these kids 'cause they're older and Cass reminds her of Gus which hurts, but in the old way, one she's learned to cope with. This new pain is too new to try and deal. It takes everything not to cry when she hears a newborn doing that. She's hates it, being back to being this lost, a hopeless saddo again, so obviously latches onto the tension surrounding her twin and the barista. She can't fix it, can't even really put her finger on the vibe, but it's enough that it isn't hers. A distraction she can sit in. Drama that can never be as deep as the one her body's done on her.* Oh, you're going. Cool. Laters then, babes. Hope I'll see you around, cutie. * She smiles wide at Bobby, a better fake than Janis can ever be. *No offense, Jimmy.* The laugh sounds real. Only the kids give her something back, but it's for them she does it, not wanting what her sister is gonna dish out in this mood. And if looks could kill, the boyfriend's could have them all in the ground. No fucking thanks. Off you go, boy, bye.* Jimmy: *He waves both twins off as if they're on equal footing suddenly like. Funny fucker he is. Even more of a twat. He keeps going, lighting up as he does, every word Cass might say about it blocked out before it gets out. Enough. It's this or worse, sorry. The kids start bickering as they round the corner, taking out the bullshit he'd started and let seep out on each other when they can't reach him. Jimmy feels like handling it like he's younger than Bobby's age, throwing himself to the floor and sobbing for a bit. There's no getting rid that easily though. Not for him. Janis was the lucky one there. Shame she didn't feel it, but it was too late for him to do anything about that. She wasn't even in sight anymore. Fuck knows when she next would be. He couldn't think of school starting when tomorrow was too far. Too much. He rubs his eyes, ready to call it tiredness but nobody was there to issue a challenge. Fuck.* Janis: *Janis turns on her heel, without acknowledging him again (not hard when all she can think to do is knock him out or beg at his feet, neither of those an option she could live with), but its cheapened by the fact he did it first, and meant it. She prays the walk Home can be as shrouded in sweet silence as the walk here was. For her sake this time. But as they walk on, further and further away from him, she starts to wish Grace would say something, ANYTHING! She needed the distraction from her own thoughts, the ones that had got her in this mess in the fucking first place! Differences aside, even her twin was better company.* Did you wanna go up-town, like? We still can... *She shrugs. What else does she have to say or offer right now?* Grace: *The walk back doesn't feel anything like the one going, they are in step, yeah, but it means nothing 'cause they're both so in their own 'drama'. She nearly tells her sister, at least part of it, as an excuse for why she's being this 'ugh' (none of these stupid, basic words fit, but they are what she automatically reaches for), feeling she owes her that, knowing Janis would be down for her being a bitch over giving her nothing to kick back against. None of the words will come out though. Of course. Only more of her usual kinda convo stuff will. She's that bitch now. Shadowing her former self. God, it's even more pathetic than anything she'd tried to pull on her twin. But it fits, and she flips her hair, turning to the other with a smile which doesn't come as easy but she forces herself to wear anyway. *Well, girl, you still need a phone. Even if just to tell him to fuck off when he tries blowing mine up. Janis: *She's looking down at their feet; looking anywhere else, a risk. She nods, allowing a small 'true' chuckle to follow too. Janis raises her head, straightening her back and standing up taller. She groans as she cracks her bones and stretches out her arms and legs like she's warming up for something. Too little too late, perhaps? God damn.* Fuck this shit, Gracie. Fuck.This.Shit. *She doesn't even know fully what her sister's shit is yet but she feels confident in sending it to Hell with her own.* What are we gonna do, eh? Grace: *She whispers it herself, 'fuck it' so soft, but so 'fire'. (Another word than couldn't touch how things were) It felt good to have it out of her. More than that, feeling connected to her twin again (bad as she felt for thinking it under these conditions, god she was such a bitch.) was even better. A more genuine smile is offered up while she thinks of what she can say, tapping her nails against denim. *We're going to town, sister, and owning the rest of this day. New phone, new clothes, whatever we want. Fuck it. Janis: *Janis smiles back, as genuine.* Fuck it. Let's do this.

[audreycritter]

“Gah,” Jason Todd exclaims, slamming one hand against the steering wheel. Dev, to his credit, does not jump but looks up briefly from the article he is reading on his phone.

“Problem?” Dev asks, glancing ahead at the road from the passenger seat.

“I’m so fricking hungry,” Jason growls, twisting in his seat to look out the rear window. “Tim’s right there. Why the frick did we decide to wait until after her recital to eat?”

“Because it’s barely five in the evening, mate,” Dev answers, sounding vaguely amused. They left the Arts Hall after going to Cassandra’s afternoon ballet recital en masse, and managed to talk Alfred into take-out burgers instead of the older man skipping the recital to prepare food for afterward.

“It’s a stupid time to eat lunch,” Jason snaps. “And why did Tim pick it all up, anyway.”

Dev pockets his phone and gives Jason a level look as the car crawls forward in traffic.

“Mate.”

“What?!” Jason exclaims, throwing his head back. “AUGH.”

“We’re having dinner. Did you not eat lunch?”

“What the hell,” Jason throws an arm in the air and slams the gas to close the gap that’s suddenly opened ahead of them. A second later, he pounds the brake just as hard at a red light. “Alfred told me not to eat!”

“He didn’t mean all day, mate,” Dev says, a little startled now. “You could’ve had lunch.”

“Hold on,” Jason snaps. “Fuck it.”

The younger man throws the gear shift into park and before Dev can even yell in protest, Jason flings the car door open and tumbles out of the car, shaking off his seatbelt.

“Jay!” Dev says, pointlessly, craning to see.

Jason jogs ten feet back and bends down at the window of Tim’s car. Dev can make out Tim’s confused expression through the glass, but a moment later a brown paper bag of food and a drink are extended through the open window.

Jason snatches them and sprints back to his car, sliding into the seat amidst the car’s angry beeping at being left on while the door is open. He buckles again just as the light changes to green and the engine makes an awful revving noise when he presses the gas.

“Drive,” Dev says and Jason whips the gear shift around and they’re moving forward again.

Somehow in those few seconds of running or buckling, Jason has already gotten a cheeseburger out of the bag and is chewing a mouthful.

“I slept in,” he mumbles around a large bite. “Didn’t have time. Goodness gracious, this is heaven.”

“It’s only Park Avenue,” Dev jokes, peering into the bag Jason had thrown onto his lap.

“Listen,” Jason insists, “I love this cheeseburger more than I’ve loved anything or anyone ever. With all my heart. See if there’s another one.”

“The sack’s full of them,” Dev answers, sorting through the wrappers. “No chips, though.”

“Tim said there’s another bag of those,” Jason says, wadding the paper and foil wrapper. He reaches over and grabs another burger. “Alfred will understand.”

“We’ll say I gave you mine if anyone’s miffed,” Dev says, folding the top of the bag shut.

“Well, now I feel bad,” Jason protests, taking another bite anyway.

“I just want chips, mate. I ate lunch like a sane person,” Dev says with a grin.

“Har har,” Jason answers with his mouth full. “Gimme Dick’s next.”

Dev’s hand tightens on the bag and he edges it away from Jason’s reach.

“I’m not gonna eat it,” Jason says, putting a hand up in a gesture of assurance. “I’m just gonna lick it and put it back. I’ll tell him later.”

Dev raises an eyebrow and moves the bag further away.

“You are zero fun, Dr. Frankenstein,” Jason grumbles, turning off the main road stretch they’d been on. “It’s like you’ve been spending too much time with Bruce.”

“Don’t act surprised,” Dev says. “If you get him ill, guess who has to take care of it?”

“Alfred?” Jason asks. “Okay, yeah. That’s a deterrent.”

“I meant me, you plonker,” Dev says, his tone offended. “I’d not leave him to Alfie alone.”

“Oh, in that case, hand it over anyway.” Jason shrugs and slurps soda from the cup and then makes a face. “This is fucking gross. Why is this orange.”

“Your da’s, and I’ve tried to talk him out of it,” Dev says, pressing his shoulder against the door to brace himself. “Bloody hell, Jay, slow for the turns or we’ll both end up zombies.”

“You aren’t a Wayne,” Jason scoffs. “What makes you think you’d come back?”

“Steph’s not a Wayne and she came back,” Dev retorts, taking the cup out of Jason’s hand. “If you don’t care about us, at least have mercy on your sodding suspension.”

“It’s Bruce’s car. I don’t care,” Jason says, speeding through a yellow light. He glances in the rearview mirror. “And Steph didn’t actually die. Good. We lost Tim.”

“Were we trying to lose Timothy?” Dev asks, turning his head to look out the back.

“We’re racing,” Jason answers. A second later, he cuts the wheel hard and they slam around a corner into an alleyway. “Fish-fucking-sticks, I forgot about that new bridge. I bet Tim took it.”

“I did not agree to racing,” Dev says firmly. “Not in the middle of Gotham.”

“We have to get you away from Bruce. He’s rubbing off on you and it’s awful.” Jason doesn’t slow down coming out of the alley and takes a u-turn almost immediately on the road he joins.

“Have you ever been in a car with Bruce, mate,” Dev says. “Bloody hell, at this point, I’m not even going to want chips. Your da drives like a bat out–” He stops abruptly.

Jason turns to him with a wicked grin.

“Finish it,” he orders, blowing through a yellow light.

“I’m just going to stop talking,” Dev says instead. “I’m going to close my eyes and whinge to Alfie when we get back and never get in a car I’m not driving, ever again.”

“If you don’t want your fries, can I have those, too?” Jason asks, slowing suddenly. They crawl down the street at five miles under the speed limit and Dev watches out the window as they pass a squad car tucked back into an alley with a radar gun. “Do you know if they jokerized them?”

“If they what?” Dev replies, his stomach turning. As soon as they’re around a corner, the car picks up speed again.

“The fries. Did they jokerize them. The seasoning?” Jason says, as if this is obvious. “They’re crap without it but sometimes Tim skips it because Bruce gets weird about it.”

“How dare your da get weird about remembering you died,” Dev says dryly. “The sodding audacity.”

“Hey,” Jason says, coughing. He picks up the soda and drinks some. The younger man makes a face at the taste and then sips it again anyway. “You’re doing better. You didn’t pause all funny before you said it this time.”

“Audacity?” Dev says with a grin. “I’m shite at writing, but I can manage some big words.”

“You know what the frick I mean,” Jason laughs. “I’m pretty sure we lost, by the way. Check Tim’s location.”

“I’m not ringing him, mate. If he’s still driving, he’ll answer anyway. The lot of you have no self-preservation skills whatsoever,” Dev refuses as they drive over the bridge toward the more secluded Manor.

“You’re so old,” Jason complains. “Just open your texts and go to his contact info. It should be right there. Dick made him share his location with everyone after that insomnia thing.”

Dev slides his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and taps on the screen.

“Huh,” he says. “This is bloody convenient. He’s half a mile from the Manor and not moving. I hope Dames is okay.”

“Why wouldn’t Damian be okay?” Jason asks, looking over sharply.

“He was in the back, yeah? And if Tim was driving anything like you were…” Dev trails off as if this is enough information.

“You lost me,” Jason says. “Damian’s an idiot but he wouldn’t try to take over.”

“He gets carsick in the backseat, mate,” Dev says, typing a text while he talks. “Did you not know?”

“How do you know that?” Jason demands. “Gah, it’s like you’re turning into Alfred.”

“He was sick all over my car on the way to Lake Vernon last summer. He was too sodding stubborn to ask me to stop.”

“I don’t even know why you stick around,” Jason exclaims, braking to a stop. Tim’s car is on the shoulder of the road but the car is empty.

“Mostly for tea,” Dev says, opening his door. “I’ll look about.” He sets the bag of cheeseburgers on the seat when he stands, then he stoops over and gives Jason a skeptical glance and takes the bag with him.

Jason flicks the hazard lights on and climbs out. He squints, looking down the road.

“They’re up there, walking,” he says.

“The petrol tank says it’s empty,” Dev adds, looking through the driver’s side window of Tim’s car.

“Get back in,” Jason says quickly. “Hurry. He saw us.”

Dev obeys and barely is buckled again before the car speeds forward.

“What the bloody hell,” he yelps as the speedometer tips toward 60 miles per hour. They rush past Stephanie and Cassandra, who are holding bags of food and trays of drinks. A second later, they speed past Tim and Damian, who are both sprinting.

“We can still win,” Jason says. “And loser has to tell Bruce that we broke the T-Rex’s head before the recital.”

“You what,” Dev exclaims. “Does this mean we’re free? We can burn it in the yard?”

“He’s going to fix it. He fixed it last time.”

“Then what’s the bloody point?” Dev demands, sounding defeated. “How did you break it, anyway?”

“Um,” Jason says reluctantly. “We shot it. But it was an accident. And we won!”

The car skids to a stop on the drive in front of the Manor with a whining screech.

“You accidentally shot…the head of…the massive dinosaur…” Dev summarizes faintly.

“Mhmm. With a crossbow,” Jason says. “We didn’t think it’d just fucking shatter like that, but I guess it’s gotten brittle. And now Tim gets to tell Bruce and I swear to god someone will die if they didn’t season those fries.” He’s already out of the car and he bangs on the roof. “You coming?”

“Yes,” Dev says in a detached voice. “But only because Alfie’s inside and I can find some semblance of sanity there, otherwise I’d just spend the night right here, thanks.”

“Can I still have your fries?” Jason asks, turning to give Tim and Damian the finger as they stagger onto the front lawn from the road. Tim gives it back and sits down on the grass and Damian runs faster. Jason yells and bolts up the stairs. “Answer me inside! If I’m still alive!”

Dev waves to Tim who waves limply before falling onto his back on the lawn.

“I’m so hungry!” the faint yell carries to the car. “Can you throw me a cheeseburger?”

“What, did none of you eat before?” Dev shouts back, his grip tightening on the bag.

“I slept in!” Tim replies. “And then the burgers were stolen.”

Dev sighs and turns toward the Manor.

“Drag your sorry arse inside,” he calls over his shoulder. He stops and takes a cheeseburger out and sets it on the steps. “Here. I’m luring you.”

When he glances back, Tim raises a hand in a thumbs-up gesture.

“This sodding family,” Dev mutters. Alfred appears just inside the doorway and doesn’t flinch or blink at the sound of crashing behind him.

“In one piece?” the older man asks calmly.

“Just barely,” Dev replies. “I thought ballet was supposed to be calm and civilized.”

“Not for the Waynes,” Alfred says with a slight smile, stepping aside. “But I hardly think this should be news to you.”

Jason steps around Alfred and back out onto the top step with a struggling, protesting Damian thrown over his shoulder.

“Did you jokerize the fries?” he roars down toward the lawn where Tim is still lying. Tim sits up and cups his hands around his mouth to shout back.

“Of course I did. They’re gross plain.”

“Eat them outside!” Bruce’s voice carries out of the house from somewhere down a hallway. “Or I throw them away!”

Jason drops Damian, who just barely manages to land on his feet, and he tips his head back and growls.

“You’re repressing everyone!” he complains loudly.

“I’ll clean the patio table,” Alfred says, disappearing inside.

“My house, my rules!” Bruce answers and Jason turns and slams the door shut.

The girls are at the edge of the lawn now, still carrying food. Cassandra is slurping slushie through a fat straw. A window above the steps opens and Dick leans out.

“Did Jason lick my cheeseburger again?” he demands of the crowd in general. “Jay. Jason.”

“Frick yes I did,” Jason says.

“He didn’t,” Dev answers, holding the bag aloft. The window shuts.

“You have no sense of fun,” Jason moans, snatching Damian up again. The boy is as tall as Tim now, so it’s less like watching a child being picked up and more like watching someone be abducted. “Come on, Demonbird. We’re going to jump in the pool just like this.”

Tim has dragged himself to his feet and joins Dev on the steps. He leans over and picks up the cheeseburger sitting on the ground and unwraps it.

“I have to tell Bruce about the T-Rex,” he mutters. “Wanna come?”

“Why not,” Dev answers with a shrug. “It’s safer than being by the pool.”

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

So I saw the power rangers movie. And I wrote fic about the power rangers movie. Because of course I did. ~

Life settles slowly, after they send Rita flying. The mayor declares a state of emergency, in the immediate aftermath, and there's enough footage that the governor agrees to send relief in the form of money and national guardsmen. Angel Grove is not rich, and the money is as welcome as the out of towners are suspect. Trini patches up her bedroom, now barely even a blip on her parents' radar and easy enough to explain away as collateral damage, while Jason dives head first into the main relief effort, repairing Angel Grove with as much passion as he had defended it. Kim shadows him, tongue sharp as ever and eyes darting everywhere, always on high alert for any incoming threats, whether they be power-crazed aliens or angry high school girls.

It takes a full week for school to open back up, and almost a month after that for things to return to any kind of normal. Trini sits next to Kim in biology and passes notes to Jason in math. She talks with Billy about his dad and goes hiking with him and Zack to find more treasures. Once a week, the five of them meet at the mine, make a fire and look down at the city. Sometimes they spend the night, sometimes they disperse as the sun starts to sink, sometimes they go see Zordon and Alpha in the ship and get to know them as equals, rangers in their own right rather than hapless trainees. Every so often Zordon reasserts his authority, orders them into the pit for training, watches their progress with satisfaction rather than despair. Even without her armor Trini can flip a man twice her size and three times her weight, can dodge a punch and throw one, can run a mile without running out of breath or energy. She gives her brothers piggyback rides around the house and yard, smiling as they call her their megazord and swear destruction upon the enemies of Angel Grove. (She tells Billy once that they both want to be the blue ranger, and he can barely form a coherent sentence in his surprised delight. Jason laughs and tells him that now everyone knows how cool he's been all along, which just makes it worse.)

Zack still isn't going to school, and he doesn't participate much in the rebuilding of Angel Grove, so she takes to going up to find him, Saturdays when the others are all in detention for crimes that barely anyone even remembers after all the excitement. He seems surprised to see her, the first few times, as though he half expected them to just fade back out of his life now that the danger has passed. Trini can empathize.

“What are you going to do now?” she asks, one day when they're sitting idly on a cliff's edge. Once, the drop would have terrified her, would have sent her scurrying several feet back just to be safe, but she knows from experience that she can survive the fall, so she sits with her legs swinging into the void, occasionally kicking a pebble loose to tumble down into the ravine.

He shrugs. “Don't know,” he says. “Haven't thought about it. Live in the moment, you know?”

“My parents are starting to bug me about college,” she says, tracking a distant raptor's flight with her eyes. Her vision is better now, sharper and more defined, designed to spot out enemy weaknesses before they can find hers. Zordon keeps talking about how ranger powers optimize them for combat, make them the ultimate protectors, but Trini prefers to use her newfound abilities for other purposes. She's had to start cheating at hide-and-seek because she can hear her brothers breathing from a room away, and she hasn't lost a pen in weeks.

“What, already? Don't you have at least a year left?”

“Can't start too early,” she says. “Or so they tell me. I think they've just picked something new, since they can't worry about my friends anymore.” She'd introduced Jason to her parents, a few weeks after the fight, when his growing reputation as hard-working member of the reconstruction team was starting to eclipse his reputation as troublemaker and destroyer of Angel Grove's football hopes. He'd been charming and polite, attractive and intelligent and male, everything her parents could ask for. They'd looked at him with relief so palpable Trini almost thought she could bottle it and keep it as a souvenir, and told him over and over and over that he was welcome whenever he wanted to drop by and that they were so glad she was finally making friends. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye for days afterwards, too embarrassed about the badly hidden sympathy in his expression whenever he thought about it.

Zack shakes his head, kicking a foot against the cliff side and sending a shower of pebbles of his own cascading downwards. “Tell me about it. My mom's been on my case about going to school again.”

“Why don't you?” Trini wants to know.

“Oh, you know,” he says. “Better things to do with my life than sit in a classroom listening to someone who's never had to experience life tell me stuff I'll never need to know.”

She can't really argue with that. She would have, only a few months earlier, but she knows more about Zack now, knows that he's probably had to survive on his own longer than the rest of them combined, and she can't bring herself to be sanctimonious about his choices. So she shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“What, not going to argue with me about how I'm throwing away my future?” he asks, turning to look at her. From the way he says it, the implied airquotes around 'throwing away my future' and the way his usually subtle accent fades completely into a flat, standard California drawl, she guesses that he's already had this fight, probably with Jason. Sometimes, she wonders if Jason knows just how much he sounds like his dad, and what he would do if someone pointed it out to him.

“It's your future,” she says. “I'm not going to tell you what to do with it.”

He looks at her for a minute, then shakes his head again, laughing. “You're something else, crazy girl. You know that?”

Homecoming comes and goes. Jason goes to the football game, sitting in the stands with his dad and Billy and Billy's mom. Kimberly doesn't, and Trini invites her over to play power rangers with her brothers and watch kaiju movies. Trini's mom looks at her with thinly veiled suspicion, but Kim turns on the charm and mentions her ex-boyfriend a lot and smooths things over. “Sorry about that,” Trini mutters when they finally get into her bedroom.

Kim only shrugs. “I've had practice,” she says. “Amanda Clark and I used to sneak around behind her mom's back all the time.”

Trini stares at her. “Wait, you mean...?”

“Sure. Didn't go anywhere, obviously, but it was fun while it lasted.”

“But you're not...” Trini trails off, still staring at Kim with wide eyes. She can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed when Kim shakes her head.

“Probably not, but you never know. Stuff happens, things change. All I can tell you for sure that I wasn't in love with Amanda Clark.” She shrugs philosophically. Trini keeps staring, tongue-tied, until Kim takes pity on her, pulls up Netflix, and insists that Trini be an active participant in choosing the first movie.

Kim stays late, keeping Trini's brothers up past their bedtime and offering sarcastic commentary on the poor choices of movie heroes in the face of terrifying monsters. It's somehow reassuring, watching experiences so close to their own rendered as technicolor extravaganzas. It makes it seem less real, less like something that actually happened, more like an impossible dream. Trini's got holes in her walls and a compulsive need to lock her bedroom window to prove otherwise, but sitting with her brothers and her best friend, watching what is clearly a guy in a rubber suit tearing up a model city, she can distance herself from it all, at least for a little while.

Trini's mom had offered to let her spend the night, managing somehow to cram the dual emotions of 'I'm glad my daughter has finally made a friend' and 'you can sleep in the guest room but not my daughter's bedroom' into a single sentence, but Kim gets a text from Jason around midnight and slips out the back door instead. Trini tells herself that she's not upset, and she's not, not really. Kim and Jason are probably going to go hang out in Jason's backyard and drink his dad's beer and talk about how they used to be popular and how bad the new quarterback is. It's not a conversation she has any place in, and she's more than happy to leave them to it. But it leaves her restless and awake, pacing back and forth in her bedroom with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. It's weird, how only a few weeks have been long enough to not only get used to having friends but to miss them when they're not around.

She cycles through her options. Kim and Jason are out, though she's sure that if she dropped by she'd be welcome. Billy's probably either sleeping or hanging out with the other two, and either way unavailable. (She's seen Billy Cranston drunk; they all have. She's not sure she needs to see it again – his overwhelming fondness for blowing stuff up combines badly with the lowered inhibitions of someone on their fourth drink. Jason and Zack thought it was awesome, but Trini's nerves aren't quite up to the task.)

That leaves Zack, but she hates disturbing him at night. She's never sure when he's home and when he's not, and the last thing she wants to do is rob his mom of more nights with her son. She doesn't know what, exactly, is wrong with Zack's mom – the most he ever says is that she's sick – but she can read between the lines of her friend's words and expressions and she thinks time is running out.

Before she can make up her mind to just go to sleep alone, like a grownup, or at least someone who can look after herself, her phone buzzes. Her first thought is that it's Kim, remorseful about leaving early and inviting her over. She has an answer half composed in her head before she even opens the message, an answer which dies unwritten.

You awake? It's from Zack.

Yeah.

Want to come out for a while? It's gorgeous out here right now.

It takes Trini about thirty seconds to make up her mind. As quietly as she can, she grabs her coat and puts her shoes on, stops by the kitchen to leave her parents a note telling them she's gone to Jason's, and sneaks out the back. The once imposing wood fence surrounding her backyard is now easily vaulted, and within minutes she's headed towards Zack's favorite spot, close enough to the train tracks to see all of Angel Grove but far enough into the mountains to feel like you're alone in the universe if you just look the other way.

He's waiting for her, back against a tree, fire smoldering a few feet away. His head is tilted up towards the sky, picking out stars from between the overhanging tree branches.

“Almost thought you weren't coming,” he says, without looking over at her. “How was the game?”

Trini shrugs, nudging him with a foot to get him to move far enough to give her a spot against the tree next to him. “Ask Jason. I spent the evening watching Kim convince my brothers that pink is the best color in the world. I think my mom almost had a fit at one point.”

Zack laughs. “Sounds like fun.” He lapses back into silence.

“What about you?” Trini asks. “I take it you weren't listening to the highlights on the radio.”

He shrugs, and she nudges him again. He pushes back, and she tightens her muscles, keeping her ground, foot just inside his personal space, a challenge he can't ignore. Sure enough, he twists until he's looking right at her, and very deliberately reaches over and pokes her. She bats his hand away at the last second and it's on, a battle of fingers and knees that almost inevitably turns into a proper tickle fight, each of them fighting with mock earnestness to find the other's openings and weak spots. By the time Zack's got her in a loose headlock and Trini's twisted her arms behind his back to get at the sensitive patch of skin on his side, they're laughing and breathless.

“Truce?” Trini gasps, wriggling a little to try and get free.

“Truce,” Zack agrees. He waits a beat, just long enough for her to narrow her eyes in preparation for a renewed assault, then lets go and settles back against the tree, still shaking with retreating laughter.

Trini follows suit. The stars twinkle above them, cold and unwelcoming and apparently inhabited. She thinks back to the monster movie from earlier, to the way she'd managed to pretend that the fight with Rita was just another story, and shivers a little. Her neck twinges where Rita threw her into a wall, though the injury healed weeks ago.

“Cold?” Zack asked, moving to shrug out of his jacket.

“No,” she says. He was right; it's gorgeous out, a perfect late summer night. Her jacket is more than enough. “It's just... do you think about it? Being a power ranger, saving the world, all of it?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I? I mean, we're superheroes! Didn't you want to be a superhero as a kid?”

“Not really,” Trini admits. “My mom tried to get me to pretend to be a princess, but I mostly just wanted to be a dragon.”

This makes him laugh. “Wanted to rain fire down on your enemies, crazy girl?”

“Wanted to be left alone,” she corrects. “Dragons only get bothered when they kidnap princesses, so I figured I wouldn't bother and it would be perfect.”

“Sounds lonely,” Zack said.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “You're one to talk. When was the last time you came down from this mountain again?”

It comes out more sharply than she'd intended, and she winces a little. She winces again when he says, defensive and trying not to be, “Yesterday, actually.”

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Yeah you did,” Zack says. “It's okay. Everyone does. I get it, okay? It's like Jason said. We're all fuck ups. You wanted to be an antisocial dragon and I can't even sleep in my own house half the time. It happens.”

Despite herself, Trini snorts a little. “Jason wishes he could be as fucked up as us,” she says.

“Only because he isn't actually,” Zack says, but he relaxes a little. “Living it's not as sexy as hearing about it, trust me on that.” He shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, and looks back up towards the stars. “And yeah, I think about it. I think about it a lot.”

It takes a second for Trini to switch gears back to the earlier subject. “I don't,” she admits. “Or at least I try not to. It's easier that way. I mean, we almost died. Everyone almost died. It's... it's a lot.”

“You don't think it's easier to remember the reason we didn't die?” he wants to know. “I'd rather remember how we kicked her ass than how helpless it felt to watch her threaten you guys and not be able to do anything about it.” He shifts again, and she thinks she can see the skin on his fingers ripple, like he's trying not to bring up his armor.

“I'd rather it didn't happen at all,” she says, and it feels like a weight off her chest, admitting it out loud. She can't talk about it with the others, not really. Jason sees leading the team as his road to redemption, his way of proving to himself that he's not the screw up he so vehemently proclaimed himself to be. Kim's the same, using the whole thing to get over whatever it was that landed her in trouble, that thing she still won't talk about, the one she says is ancient history and not relevant to who she is now. Billy, well, Billy's living his dream, from the friends to the super powers to the ancient, genius aliens living in the mountain. They wouldn't get it, and she hasn't even tried to bring it up with them. Zack doesn't get it either, but it feels easier to tell him, sitting outside in the middle of the night, like they did that first time when she and Zack bared their souls to the world and dared the world to reject them.

“I don't,” he says. “Oh, I mean, it would be nice if we hadn't almost failed spectacularly, but on the whole it turned out okay. And I found you guys. That makes up for everything right there, and then some.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I guess.”

“You still holding out for a dragon cave of solitude?” he wants to know. “Because I hate to break it to you, but I think we'll all be lining up to be princesses, if so. And I don't think Jason knows how to walk in heels.”

“What, and you do?”

His only answer is a grin and a wink, and she finds herself smiling back, just a little.

“But seriously, you've got to hang on to the good parts, you know? You can't change the past, and you can't just dwell on the bad stuff or it'll eat you alive, so you find the good and you hang on to it no matter what. We made friends, we fought evil, we got superpowers. That's what matters. That's what you hang on to.”

She considers this. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.” Above them the stars twinkle, relics of bygone eras and ancient times. Somewhere out there are the other pieces of the zeo crystal, is Zordon and Rita's home planet, is Rita herself, floating eternally through freezing blackness. Trini hears Zack breathing next to her and it doesn't seem quite so overwhelming.

*

As winter approaches the campouts at the old mine become less frequent. They hang out at Billy's house instead, or sometimes at Kim's, lounging in chairs and on sofas instead of on dirt and rock. Billy's mom bakes them muffins when she's home and they order pizza, watch movies and play video games. Jason's still technically under house arrest, but his dad and the cops are willing to let it slide more often now, trusting that he's displaying maturity and won't get into trouble again. It's nice, being around friends, having somewhere to go, but it's a lot to get used to all at once. At the beginning there was Rita and saving the world to occupy them, and they had to get to know each other, for the sake of being able to morph if nothing else. Now there's no threat, nothing urgent requiring them to keep bonding. Now they have to do it themselves, figure out how to spend time together and interact without the threat of imminent death hanging over them. Trini hasn't had friends in so long that sometimes, looking around at four people she once said she'd die for – and meant every word – she thinks she's forgotten how.

She and Zack still go out on weekends, or sometimes after school, when she feels so constricted by the expectations placed on her that she can barely breathe or when he can't stand to be in his house. She tells her parents that Kim's teaching her yoga and not to wait up for her, puts on warm clothes and goes to scale a sheer cliff side or dive a hundred feet into an ice-cold spring. They climb trees and play tag, leaping from branch to branch like squirrels, until they're both too tired to be anxious about anything at all.

(She asked if he wanted to meet her parents, once, since all the others had. He'd laughed long and hard and shaken his head and said, 'Crazy girl, if you want them to think you're normal I'm the last person you'd want to introduce.' She'd dropped the subject and told them that he was busy whenever they asked.)

“Why do you call me that, anyway?” she asks, sitting with her back to a rock as the wind blows smoke from their bonfire away towards Angel Grove. “It's not like you don't know my name.”

He pokes at the fire with a stick, taking his time rearranging the logs and kindling before he answers. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I don't really care,” she says, a little uncomfortably. “I was just wondering. You don't have nicknames for the others.”

“Not to their face, at least,” he says with a crooked smile. She laughs but doesn't say anything, waiting to see if he's actually going to answer. She's learned that you can wait him out, if you're patient. Zack deflects like a champion, redirects the conversation until you've forgotten what you originally want to know. He does less well with silence, so she gives it to him, looking at the fire rather than directly at him.

He knows she's figured him out, because he makes a face and settles back on his palms, eyes tracking the sparks as they rise towards the sky. “Aside from the part where you literally scaled a mountain and jumped over a ravine to avoid having to have a conversation with us, I don't know. Just a feeling, you know? Takes one to know one, and all that.”

She considers this. Then, “My parents put me in therapy, when I was twelve. Well, my dad did. My mom said there was nothing wrong with me and that I just needed to try harder, but he convinced her to try it.”

“I take it you didn't like it?”

“I didn't mind, really. It was kind of nice, having someone to talk to. But then I found out that she was telling my parents everything I said, which ruined everything.”

“How'd you find that out?”

“My mom started asking me questions about stuff I'd never told her. So I told my therapist that I wanted to run away and change my name to Matilda and join a freak show. You know, the kind of thing that would freak my parents out completely. My mom and I had a huge fight about it, and that's how I knew.”

“Smart,” he says, sounding appreciative. “On your end, I mean. Dick move on hers.”

Trini shrugs. “I'm used to it,” she says. “That's just my mom. And she wonders why I don't talk at home.” Silence falls for a bit, broken only by the soft woosh of the wind and the crackling fire. Then, “what about you?”

“Nah. Never bothered with that stuff,” he says. “Besides, even if I wanted to, it's not like we could afford it, you know? Between paying the rent and paying for my mom's medicine there's not a lot left over.”

“I'm sorry,” she says, which isn't the right thing to say, not really, but also the only thing she can think of. He waves her words away.

“Don't. Nothing to be done about it. We get by.”

“Yeah,” she says, and they lapse back into silence. Out of the corner of her eye she can see him frowning. He reaches out and pokes at the fire a little too hard, sending a shower of sparks in all directions. “Hey,” she says, drawing his attention. “Want to go test how good our night vision is? Race you to that tree over there.” She gestures towards a lone tree halfway up a mountain a good three miles away, barely distinguishable even to her augmented senses.

In answer he dumps a bucket of water over the fire, sending a huge wave of smoke billowing upward, and takes off towards the tree. Trini takes a moment to make sure all the sparks are properly extinguished then bolts after him, determined not to let his head start give him an advantage the entire way.

*

The first time Kim kisses Jason, Zordon yells at them for almost an hour about jeopardizing the team and putting everyone in danger and about how they can't afford to risk the cohesion of their team in the name of hormones and human sentiment. Jason yells right back, about hypocrisy and being allowed to have lives and Zordon minding his own business. Kim stands next to him, holding his hand defiantly, as though daring Zordon to do more than yell. Billy and Zack and Trini exchange glances and, when it doesn't seem to be dialing down any time soon, slip out of the ship and back outside. There they wait, the watery ceiling swirling above them, letting Kim and Jason and Zordon sort out their issues alone.

“Do you think he's right?” Billy wants to know. “Zordon, I mean. About Jason and Kim. Because it would be really terrible if the team fell apart, but on the other hand they're happy and that's got to be a good thing, right? But Zordon's got more experience, so he's probably right. Do you think he's right? Maybe we should go back and tell them that's he's right. Only maybe that would just make them mad and then the team would fall apart anyway. But...”

Zack holds out a hand, laughing a little. “Calm down there,” he says. “Breathe.”

Billy stutters to a stop and takes a deep breath.

“It'll be fine,” Zack says. “I mean, they're being dumb and Zordon's being dumb, but that's nothing new. They'll figure it out.”

“You think so?” Billy asks, still looking worried.

“Yeah,” Zack says. “Don't worry about it.”

“I'm not good at not worrying,” Billy says. “Too many variables, too much that could go wrong. What do you think Trini?”

Trini starts, having zoned out a bit. “What?”

“What Zack said. Do you think he's right?”

“Probably,” Trini says absently, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Billy shoots her an odd look but, thankfully, drops the subject. Zack also glances over at her, expression unreadable, but he too lets her be.

Eventually Kim and Jason come back out, still angry but apparently having come to some kind of understanding. They don't seem surprised to see the other three still there.

“Get it all sorted?” Zack asks.

“More or less,” Jason says. Kim rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything; Trini gets the feeling that she didn't get to yell at Zordon as much as she'd wanted to.

“We're still a team?” Billy asks anxiously. “No matter what happens?”

“Yeah Billy,” Jason assures him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Billy accepts this for a few moments then steps away, rolling his shoulders almost unconsciously to resettle his clothes properly.

“Good,” he says. “Then I gotta get home. My mom's making lasagna tonight, and that was my dad's favorite, so I don't want to miss it. She makes it just like she used to, you know, just like her mom taught her when she was a kid. She says she'll teach me, but I don't know. I don't really like cooking, you know? The instructions aren't very specific, even when they're trying to be, and it's hard to know when it's not going to work until it's too late, and then you can't fix it. Plus it's so messy.” Still talking he launches himself up through the ceiling. The other four glance at each other, Jason and Kim laughing a little, and follow suit.

Trini slips away from the others as they head back towards Angel Grove, her thoughts still too conflicted to deal with going home. She wanders up the winding paths, barely paying attention to where she's going, confident that she won't run into anything she can't handle. It's hard to be afraid of a twisted ankle or angry raccoon when you've faced down a crazy alien and her alien monster army.

Zack finds her a little while later. For a time they don't talk, just wander together, almost in synch with each other as they go. Finally, he says, “Want to talk about it?”

She shrugs. “Not much to talk about. It's just... I don't know. It's so easy for them, you know?” She kicks a rock out of her way, sending it careening away into a nearby tree.

He glances sidelong at her, and she thinks he hasn't understood. She's about to wave the whole subject away when he says, “Kind of makes you hate them for it, doesn't it?”

“Not really,” she says. “Just... I don't know. It's complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” he says. “I mean, the worst thing that'll happen to them is being yelled at by an alien trapped in a wall of an ancient buried spaceship and his robot lackey.”

She laughs. “I mean, when you put it that way,” she says. Then a few things click in her brain and she stops dead in her tracks. “Wait. Are you...? I mean, do you...?” She can't say it, can't make herself finish the thought, not even here, in the middle of nature with only someone she trusts intimately and entirely listening.

He stops too, a few steps ahead of her. “Yeah,” he says, and she envies the way he can just... say it, like it's no big deal. “I am.”

“And your mom...”

“Used to care. Now she just wants me to be happy. You know, after.”

She nods, and takes a long, shuddering breath. She realizes almost absently that she's trembling a little. She feels naked, even more than at that first bonfire when she said for the first time ever how much she didn't fit in with her family, more than when Rita stood over her and listed out all her flaws and her failures. Zack guides her over to a nearby tree and they sit down, almost but not quite touching, and he lets her tremble, lets her work through the sudden rush of feelings in silence, lets the fact that he knows and is still here speak everything he needs to say. Finally, when she thinks she can breathe again, she nods, and he walks back home with her, making small talk about a new stunt he's been practicing lately and letting her lecture him shakily about not being completely stupid with his superpowers.

*

(Kim and Jason break up not even a month later, and the lingering awkwardness fades fast. He still asks her to the winter formal, after Billy turns both of them down saying that he absolutely does not do parties. Trini asks Zack, who surprises all of them by actually showing up, dressed to kill and spending the entire night laughing at everyone who doesn't recognize him. The night ends back at Billy's, everyone in their half shed formal attire, watching monster movies and eating popcorn, and Trini looks around and thinks that this is what family is supposed to feel like.)

*

Zack comes back to school, spring semester. Trini doesn't know the full story behind it, but she knows Jason and Billy spent most of Christmas break working on him, comparing schedules and talking about how much they missed him. He doesn't go every day, far from it, but he goes and he sits with them at lunch and tips his chair back so far he almost falls off, in open defiance of school rules. She's sure he infuriates all his teachers, but they're the ones who let him slip through the cracks in the first place, so she doesn't have much sympathy.

He's the talk of the school, the mysterious, reckless, attractive guy who might or might not be new. Kim smirks at her old clique each time they see her talking to him and shoot her jealous looks, and Billy explains to everyone who'll listen that Zack isn't new, he's just been going through some stuff and hasn't been able to make it to class for a while.  Jason lets it be known that Zack is not to be messed with, spreading the message through the student body quietly but firmly. He's not the pariah he once was, is almost back to his old golden boy status, and people listen when Jason Scott talks.

(“Honestly it's to protect them from you more than you from them,” he says, when Zack informs him snappily that he can look after himself. “Plus Zordon would kill me if he thought I was letting you be reckless with your ranger powers in school, and getting into a fight with bullies totally counts.” Zack rolls his eyes, says some very unkind things about disembodied aliens who should mind their own business, but drops the subject.)

Trini, for her part, goes through her days like nothing's changed. She and Zack don't share any classes, and neither of them are the type to hang around after school's out, so the most they see of each other is during lunch and the occasional passing period. It would have been nice to be able to pass notes in class, like she can with the others, but she's just glad he's there at all. Her mom's almost stopped nagging her about her social life, not that that gives Trini any particular peace at home. Still, it's something she can use to stand up for herself, one small piece of ammunition to throw back at her parents when they push too hard.

It's February when he catches her after school, darting through the crowd like the competent martial artist he is, and asks her to come home with him. “It's my mom,” he says. “She's been asking to meet my friends.”

“Why me?” Trini asks, as they drift away from the throng of students leaving the building. Her phone buzzes in her pocket; Kim, probably, asking if she wants to hang out for a while. She lets it be.

“She can really only see one person at a time,” he says. “And, well, she doesn't really speak English. She was learning!” He sounds proud and defensive, the way he always does when he talks about her. He loves her so much it aches, that much has been obvious from the beginning, and sometimes Trini thinks she can see the contradictions of that love tearing him apart. It's not that bad right now, but she can still hear the feelings behind his words, and nods encouragingly. “She understands a lot, and she was taking night classes after work and getting me to help her with her pronunciation. I thought it was stupid, but I was just a kid, you know?” She nods again. “But then she got sick, and, well, you know the story.” Trini does, or at least the rough outlines.

Still, he didn't answer her question. “Why me?” she asks again.

“You're quiet,” he says. “I love Kim and Jason, you know I do, but I wouldn't put either of them in a sick room in a million years, and can you imagine Billy with someone he can't talk to? I wouldn't do that to him, that would be cruel.” He shifts his weight, resettling the backpack he refuses to wear with both straps. “You don't have to, if you're busy. I know you and Kim probably have plans.”

Trini considers. She thinks about the last time she was with someone she didn't know who didn't speak her language, thinks about the time her mom flew her abuela up to visit them and they spent an entire week awkwardly looking at each other, unable to really talk or connect. It was another way she'd failed at being a good daughter, sitting there in silence while her baby brothers gurgled cutely and held their arms up for abuela to bounce them on her knee. She's about to take the excuse he gave her, to apologetically back out and run away, like she always used to do. But it's Zack, and he's looking at her with that careful, blank expression she almost never sees anymore, and she can't. So she says, “I'd love to meet your mom,” and it's worth it to see that blank expression break into a genuine smile.

It takes almost an hour to hike back to Zack's house. They don't talk about his mom, or why they're going to see her, but instead trade gossip about school and the drama surrounding the Valentine's Day dance. Zack's been asked by at least a dozen girls and half as many boys, and Trini's gotten a couple offers herself, though she's pretty sure they're just guys who want to cozy up to Jason. By the time they reach the trailor park they're imagining trying to explain the concept of Valentine's Day to Zordon and laughing. The laughter fades as Zack slows to a stop in front of a nondescript trailer and pulls a key out from his bag. “This one,” he says, and pushes open the door.

Trini hangs back, trailing after him as he steps inside. It's weird to think of this as the place Zack lives; for as long as she's known him he's been outside, leaning against tree trunks or sprawled out on cliffs, one tiny part of a much bigger world. Here, in the cramped kitchen, he seems out of place, for all that it's his home. He motions for her to wait and crosses to a closed door. His mom's bedroom, she assumes. She notices that he's taken his shoes off, and she bends to take off her own, lining them up next to his by the door. As she waits she studies the kitchen, noting the dishes piled up in the sink and the dust on top of the cabinets. There's no food left out, though, and the sun comes in through the window in the door. It's not a bad place, just not one that fits with her mental image of Zack at all. Then again, from how often he spends the night outside, maybe she's not the only one who feels that way.

He pokes his head out from the room and gestures for her to come in. Slowly, she crosses the kitchen and steps into the bedroom, finding herself face to face with a small, bedbound Chinese woman. She looks old and frail, but her smile is warm and she holds her hands out to Trini.

“It is good to meet you,” she says, in heavily accented, obviously carefully memorized English. Trini closes the distance between them and gently takes her hands, more mindful than ever of her ranger strength. Zack's mom doesn't look much like him, but that might be the ravages of illness. Hesitantly, Trini smiles back. Zack's mom squeezes her hands and doesn't let go, though she looks over to her son and says something in Chinese. Zack shakes his head. She speaks again, sounding more insistent this time, a torrent of words that go over Trini's head but make Zack grimace. When she's done he nods.

“Okay mom,” he says, and offers Trini a crooked smile. “She's reading me the riot act because I didn't offer you anything to eat. I'll be right back.”

“It's fine,” Trini says hurriedly. “I ate at lunch, I'm fine.”

“It's a cultural thing,” he says. “You want guests to feel at home, and that means not letting them go hungry.” Before she can object further he's gone, presumably to the kitchen to find something to feed her.

Zack's mom too is looking at the door. After a moment she looks back at Trini, smiling again. “He is good boy,” she says, and Trini nods.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“He talks much about you,” his mom insists. “Is...” she frowns, looking for the words. Trini waits, keeping half an eye on her and half an eye on the door. Finally, Zack's mom shakes her head, frustrated. “English no good,” she says.

“It's fine,” Trini assures her. “He talks about you too.”

Zack's mom sighs. “He is good boy,” she repeats.

Zack comes back then, expertly balancing a tray with one hand and holding a mug in the other. The mug he offers to Trini. “Tea,” he says. “Split the difference between you not being hungry and her not being a good host.”

Trini gently untangles her hands from Zack's mom and takes the mug with a murmured thanks. Zack sets the tray down on the bed and helps his mom sit up a bit, touch gentle. Trini looks away; it feels like a violation of her friend's privacy, watching something so intimate. His mom says something in Chinese, and he nods. Trini focuses on her tea, which is still steaming a little, letting their conversation happen without her trying to listen in. It's the thought that counts, since she couldn't understand it anyway, but she still makes the gesture.

Slowly, Zack starts helping his mom eat, and brings Trini into their conversation, a somewhat stilted affair since everything has to go through him. Still, Trini finds that it's not as bad as she worried it would be, and she thinks she likes Zack's mom, with her gentle handshake and surprising sense of humor. When she's done eating she asks, through Zack, if Trini plays chess. When Trini admits that she doesn't, she turns to Zack and out comes another stream of Chinese, in a tone that, even across the language barrier comes across as a firm command. Zack sighs, makes a show of being reluctant, and reaches behind him to get out a slightly battered box.

“She wants me to teach you,” he says. “Says it would do me good to win sometimes.”

Trini laughs. “Because your ego needs so much help,” she says. “Show me how this works.”

Zack looks from her to his mom and back, shaking his head even as he sets up the board and the pieces. “I just realized that I have made a terrible mistake,” he announces to no one in particular.

“Aw, you know you love us,” Trini says, and his mom nods, saying something to Zack that makes him look away, embarrassed. Trini and his mom exchange looks, both smiling, and Trini feels the last of her anxiety slip away. Zack talks about his mom with the kind of raw emotion she used to think existed only in movies, and now she sees why. She can't fix the past, or the future, not for either Zack or his mom, or even for herself, but she can sit here and let him teach her how to play chess while his mom corrects him and shares smiles with her, and it can, finally, be enough.

[thelegandi-blog]

Why I Don't Walk

     When i started this blog, the theme indicated that the journey I’m on was intended to lead to my walking with a prosthesis. That is no longer the case. I have no current intention of walking. That may change, of course; intentions are constantly changing, and I could go back to that goal. For the time being, however, my goals have shifted.

     For some time now, I have had to answer the question, “Why don’t you use a prosthesis?” The question is asked in many different tones, with many different unspoken sub-texts, although I seldom hear it asked as simple curiosity.

     My answer to that question has changed over the years. At first it was, “I can’t afford it, and I don’t have insurance yet.” Then, when I got the first prosthesis, and it didn’t fit properly, that was my answer. Then when I decided to try again, I just didn’t “get” the process. I had been in my wheelchairs (manual and power) for so long that I was accustomed to them, and I felt as though my stumbling efforts to walk were taking me backwards. Patience has never been among my stronger character traits, especially patience with myself.

     I have given the answer that my visual impairment impedes my walking, and to a degree that is true. Because my right eye is totally blind, I have no depth perception. A dark bar across the sidewalk might be a shadow, a hose, or just a different color of concrete. If I make the wrong decision, I could either trip over the hose I thought was a shadow, or misstep because I thought a shadow was a hose. Of course, I knew within myself that that was still just an excuse, and I could overcome that fear if I really put my mind to it.

     Yes, fear played a part in my hesitation. I hate falling. No. I dread falling. I have always hated falling, even when I had two legs. I would not run, or even walk rapidly, downhill. I had fallen numerous times, with little effect each time, but I still hated and feared it. And now, with only one leg, the fear was even greater. It was not so much the fall itself I feared, but the process of getting back up again. It’s embarrassing to “trip over nothing” and tumble to the ground, but it is even more humiliating to have to ask others to help me up afterwards. It is especially mortifying to have to call for paramedics to come and lift me back to my chair; I would hate to think what it would be like with a prosthesis to deal with. I’m sure I would be even more terrified to try to set off again after such an incident.

     I learned, however, that when I repeated my reasons, they were dismissed as mere excuses, and my well-meaning friends would try to counter them with arguments such as, “You just have to give it time,”  or, “Well, if you worked at it harder, you wouldn’t fall.” I knew all those answers; I said them to myself many times, and I scolded myself for being lazy or unreasonably fearful. And yet, I did not want to put that heavy piece of machinery on my leg and try not to drag it along behind me. Some soul-searching was in order.

     After a lot of self-examination and questioning of my motives and reasoning, I reached an unanswerable conclusion:

 I DON’T WALK BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO.

      I get around just fine in my wheelchairs. For short distances and within my home, my manual chair is just fine. In fact, I have proven that I can go 5 kilometers in that chair. I wouldn’t do that every day, but I do go out for long “strolls” just to keep my strength and endurance up (and to keep in shape for the next 5K I enter). When I visited Walt Disney World with my brother and his family, he joked that he had a hard time keeping up with me. I have a wonderful chair, and the company that sold it to me takes very good care of it to keep it in tune for me to get the best performance from it.

     When I want to go out and about farther afield, I get into my power chair. My “wheelchair guys” also take care of me with this chair. I get pretty good “mileage” with the chair, going as far as 5 miles before my battery charge indicator starts dropping. I hang a large canvas bag on the back of the seat and go shopping on my days off, trekking to the closest mall or taking the bus to other shopping areas.

     I do occasionally find myself wishing that being in the wheelchair didn’t make me “short.” I generally “fly under the radar,” so to speak, as I am below eye level for most adults. Most of the time it’s not a big deal, but when I’m in a place like Disneyland, where most of the people are tourists, I have to make allowances for the fact that they are rubbernecking, far more interested in the scenery or where they want to be than in who or what is between them and their objective.

     Most of my friends have only known me since I’ve become an amputee, and they are so accustomed to seeing me on wheels that they might not recognize me if I were to appear on two legs. They are so accepting of the wheelchair that they sometimes forget that I can’t go up or down steps. I readily forgive the lapse, as it illustrates one of my favorite sayings:

 Don’t love me because of my disability;

Don’t love me in spite of my disability;

Love me with my disability.

D. Elizabeth Robinson

May 28, 2017

[nayeon-sadly-owns-me]

I wrote a thing

Title: Lifelong

Word count:  5366 words

Pairing: Moonsun

It was not love at first sight, but an alluring enchantment that was too strong to ignore.

              Moonbyul was 6 years old when she first saw Kim Yongsun. Saw, not met. Moonbyul was not an outgoing child and preferred to stick to what she knew, which was action figures and swinging til she could get as high as possible before jumping off. She got along with the other kids just fine, it’s just she was too ‘boyish’ to be with the girls and too ‘girlish’ to be with the boys. So, there she was swinging away as she observed the other kids from afar. She could recognize most of their faces except one new face that she had never seen before. She was small but had a pudgy face that was revered for its cuteness by all around her. Moonbyul also fell into the category of on-lookers who admired her radiant cuteness. The girl got along with the others very well, she seemed like the perfect mixture of outgoing and reserved. Looking back on it, Moonbyul wish she could have gotten the courage to come off her swing and meet the girl much sooner.

              As the weeks went by, in passing, she learned that the girl’s name was Kim Yongsun. She was a year older than her and loved to entertain everyone around her. She was prone to keeping around a group of girls around her at all times, always finding herself at the center without trying too hard. Moonbyul was curious about her, she wanted to know what made her tick and what she was like. Slowly she began to find reason’s to be in ear shot of Yongsun’s ‘crew’. Yongsun had a passionate voice that could tell stories with very little stutter. Moonbyul found a creeping jealous feeling worm its way up but die out in mere seconds, at that time she was experiencing a stutter because of a swing mishap of resulted in the loss of a few teeth. Boys and girls talked to her, which was strange as boys avoided girls like the plague. In Yongsun’s increasing popularity, she continued to expression pleasantries with everyone she met. She once heard Yongsun be described as a ‘person sculpted by the sun’ and honestly she couldn’t disagree. After a month, Moonbyul found that her day at the school could not end without a glimpse of the sun shining female.

Although Moonbyul was captivated, Kim Yongson would never speak to 6-year-old Moon Byul Yi or share a glance with her.

-10 Years Old-

              This was the age of when boys and girls were discovering that there were real differences between the two genders. Boys and girls began to make play dates with each other, and the gossip of who will be under the big Oak Tree on the playground was the talk of the school. Moonbyul had flown under the radar and was never once susceptible to becoming victim of the rumors. She was friends with a boy named Jin now. He liked to bring his action figures to the playground for them to play with and talk about how silly everyone is about the opposite gender. They had an easy going friendship of Moonbyul picking flowers and making flower crowns to put on Jin’s head. Although Jin was aware of how boys never wore them, he didn’t care because those crowns made him feel pretty. It wasn’t until one day that Yongsun walked across where they were currently laying under the shade, that Jin decided to mention something. He pointed out that Moonbyul’s attention was always being drawn to her. Moonbyul tried to deny it but ended up giving in.

              He would laugh at her for the way she avoided the other girl. Jin got an idea and decided to triple dog dare her into talking to the pretty 11 year old. Moonbyul sat horrified because by child logic, one cannot refuse a triple dog dare. She huffed air into cheeks and stood up. Confidently she exhaled and announced that she was going to and when she came back she was going to make him feel sorry for doing this to her. His sheepish grin spread across his face as he watched her walk away. As she made the long strides towards the older girl, her heart began to pound faster and faster. Her confidence wavered but she knew that there was no turning back now as some of Yongsun’s friends began to look at her. As she got closer, Yongsun turned her head to look at her. Moonbyul’s legs felt like jelly under the anxiety of having to approach somebody that up until now she had only observed. It didn’t help that a smile slowly crawled up Yongsun’s face. Yongsun greeted her with the same hospitality that she used with everyone else.

              Moonbyul felt her body heat up and suddenly she felt an unconscious need to become more than just an observer. Without giving a questioning thought, the words ‘you’ and ‘pretty’ came bustling out of her mouth like a raging river. She felt a warning siren blare inside her head and the extreme embarrassment of the outburst made her clinch her first inside of her pockets. Yongsun’s friends gave her estrange looks, but Yongsun just covered her face and giggled. A thought entered her brain, she had said the wrong thing and now everyone was going to make fun of her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the older girl giving her a shy smile and an appreciative ‘thank you’ before returning the compliment. That was how a lifelong connection began. With each passing day, Moonbyul would complement her each time their paths crossed. Yongsun would shyly look down and accept the compliment and they would be their separate ways. One day, Moonbyul felt extra subconscious and said nothing. It was on that day that Yongsun pursued her.

              Moonbyul was only lightly swinging on her familiar swing before Yongsun walked up to it. A questioning look danced along her eyes and her mouth opened and closed several times before any words could come out. Moonbyul couldn’t speak, all she wanted to do was hear what Yongsun wanted to say. The words “is everything okay?” tumbled out after a minute of silence. Moonbyul scrunched up her brows before slowly nodding. Yongsun was flabbergasted in the way she was trying to explain that she kept waiting to hear her daily compliment while also trying to explain why she isn’t as self-conceded as she sounds. Moonbyul was glad that Jin choose that day to stay inside and work on his drawing skills. It was half-way through Yongsun’s explanation of why she was so distraught that Moonbyul could no longer contain a burst of laughter that she had no idea that she was containing. Yongsun abruptly stopped and began to pout. Moonbyul slowed her laughing down to a chuckle, looking up at her in the most charming way that she could possible muster and spoke out “You’re so cute when you’re struggling on what to say.”

              It was the first time she had ever seen Yongsun blush instead of shyly look away. It was on that day that Moonbyul decided that she wanted to never see that girl frown ever again. Over the next few days, Yongsun began to incorporate a minute or two of just her and Moonbyul together, whether it is through just Moonbyul trying to make her smile or just Yongsun complaining about the spelling test she doesn’t want to take the next day. As the time passed, they began to spend more and more time with each other. A minute during recess turned into 5 minutes, 5 minutes into 10. Eventually, Yongsun wouldn’t join her usual huddle of friends and would go straight to Moonbyul. She got along with Jin and found that their easy-going nature was just as intoxicating as her need to entertain those around her.

Soon Yongsun began to proudly call Moonbyul her best friend. She never found out that Moonbyul had known her since she was 7.

-15 years old-

              Dating had now become the big life changing event that seemed to captivate everyone except Moonbyul. She still had no interest in her male peers and found that the feeling was mutual. She enjoyed meeting guys, but she was drawn into having brother-sister relationships over dating. At that time, she didn’t understand why she couldn’t feel normal feelings for them. Yongsun was timid about dating, she grew up in a strict household and now found refuge at Moonbyul’s house whenever she felt overwhelmed by the pressures of her parents. It turned out that they lived in the same neighborhood and were only 10 minutes apart by walking. Yongsun would jump onto a spot next to Moonbyul and lay an arm around the other girl’s slim waist. Moonbyul knew she could always rely on the blissful feeling of knowing Yongsun would lay her head on her shoulder and cuddle into her. Yongsun had once explained that Moonbyul felt like a safe haven for her. There was no prejudice, no expectations, just them and the stars. The stars referencing to the fact that Moonbyul had glow in the dark stars planted along the ceiling of her room.

              As their school year dragged on, Moonbyul began to realize that the way she felt for Yongsun was out of the ordinary. By the end of the year, she realized that what she felt for Yongsun was dangerous. However, instead of cowering and pushing Yongsun away, she kept her even closer. Like a masochist that was discovering what made her mind tick, she became dangerously intoxicated with the way her and Yongsun interacted. It began to feel like a game, how far would she be able to go before Yongsun would pull away and stop her with a ‘okay this is getting weird’. Moonbyul didn’t care about why she only felt a burst of excitement at seeing Yongsun, but only a dull splash for boys. All she cared about was seeing the other girl and being with the other girl. Despite being a year apart, they spent all their time together. They constantly texted and would surprise each other with gifts or visits whenever they realized the other person was feeling down.

              People began to associate them as a pair that would probably by houses next to each other and have their weddings together. Yongsun would take great pride in the fact that she was paired up with someone as fantastic as Moonbyul. Moonbyul would feel her heart speed up at the mention of growing older alongside Yongsun. Although, it would become harder to ignore the ‘houses next door’ and the ‘getting married to different people’ as Moonbyul’s began to care more and more about what she felt for Yongsun. One day, her curiosity got the best of her and she found herself looking up what her feelings meant. She closed her laptop quickly upon discovering the words ‘gay’ and ‘lesbian’. Those words had terrified her. The once prideful feeling of loving the fact that she was different than most girls now shook her to her core. It kept her up at nights and suddenly everything had made sense. Yongsun would ask what was wrong, and all Moonbyul could do was muster up a smile and claim that there was nothing wrong.

Yongsun didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t going to force her into discussing something she didn’t want to talk about.

-17 Years Old-

              College was now on the horizon as Yongsun was becoming busier and busier with her senior year and entrance exams that her parents made her take. Moonbyul was out as a lesbian now after experiencing a long denial period that Yongsun had to drag her out of. Turns out, Yongsun had figured her sexuality out a while ago and was waiting for Moonbyul to catch up. While Moonbyul’s parents were hesitant on accepting her, they reluctantly did and soon began to invest time in asking her if she had met any girls that caught her eye. They chose not to mention it to Yongsun’s parents. It was halfway during the semester when Yongsun comes bursting into Moonbyul’s room crying and plopping down at her familiar spot next to Moonbyul. She felt a ping of hot anger run down her body as she realized it had something to do with her boyfriend, Eric. Yongsun had been dating Eric for about a year and a half at that time. The day that Yongsun admitted to having accepted his offer to be his girlfriend, Moonbyul felt her heart shatter just a tad bit. It was also a wakeup call to the painful reality that she liked the petite older girl far more than she had imagined.

Moonbyul cried until she passed out that night.

              Moonbyul traced her hand up and down Yongsun’s back in order to soothe her into calming down. These days had been occurring far more frequently. Yongsun was slowly becoming too busy to come see her for just a friendly hang out. Now she only came when she was upset or bored. From underneath Moonbyul’s shoulder, she heard a muttering voice discuss how boys are stupid and not worth her time. Moonbyul smiled sadly at her, her heart was breaking. She made a smart ass comment about how that was why she didn’t deal with them and Yongsun laughed shallowly at it. She made a passing comment about how she wished she could do the same, the smile on Moonbyul’s face fell. She wanted to comment that she wished she could to. She wanted to tell her to just end her relationship and just give her a try instead. She wanted to be selfish. She knew she was her best friend and one of her top priorities, but she wanted her heart too.

              Moonbyul did what she always did, she lifted the other girls chin so that their eyes met, and she spoke softly about how things would be better the next day. Yongsun would smile back at her in a way that made Moonbyul’s heart sing, and say thanks before leaving a kiss on her check. That kiss on the cheek was a thing Yongsun began to do when she felt grateful towards her around a year ago. The first time it happened, Moonbyul felt that she was going to pass out from her own body heat soaring up. Yongsun laughed loudly at the reaction and exclaimed her excitement at finally finding something to repay her for all the times she made herself blush. Moonbyul hid her face, hiding the fact that she was smiling as if there was no where she would rather be than where she was at that moment. Each time it happened, it would rise up Moonbyul’s hopes that maybe Yongsun could possible feel the same. However, those hopes would be dashed later by sights of her and her boyfriend or discussions of how great it is to kiss boys.

              Now the kiss on the cheek felt more hallow than sweet. Because the reactions granted from the kiss began to die down, Yongsun began to only do it on rare occasions. In the same masochist way, Moonbyul missed those moments. Sometimes she wondered if their relationship was unhealthy, until she remembers the love and care that Yongsun has shown her throughout their friendship. Moonbyul tried to kiss other girls, but she never could feel anything. She couldn’t get herself to date anyone seriously. The overwhelming feeling of knowing she was using them to get over Yongsun loomed over her so she used the excuse that there weren’t enough gay women around to capture her interest.

              One night, Yongsun called her at 1 am to discuss the fact that she had finally had her first time after months of denying her boyfriend because she felt like she wasn’t ready. She was excited but openly admitted that it wasn’t what she imagined. Moonbyul could hardly get the words out her mouth, she only mumbled the typical ‘mhm’ ‘ooh’ when she was required to. Yongsun was use to that when it came to talking about boys so she thought nothing of it. When they hanged up, Moonbyul felt her body shake into an uncontrollable fit. Tears rolled down her face and her fingers gripped her legs tightly. Moonbyul had never experienced a panic attack before and had no idea how to calm down. Her breathing was exasperated and shallow. A thought crossed her mind that she should call Yongsun back, get her to tell her to calm down and say that everything will be fine. But then she remembers that she is probably back in his arms. The thought made things worse. It wasn’t until after 10 minutes of shaking and hyperventilating that her mom cracked open the door in concerned. She came to her daughter’s side and soothed her into breathing normally again.

Her mom sighed and hugged her daughter tightly after she hears the words “I love her”.

-18 Years old-

              Yongsun and Moonbyul had grown apart from the longer distance apart and the unspoken secrets that Moonbyul now hid from Yongsun. After the revealing call that Yongsun had slept with Eric, Moonbyul began to distance herself. By the time Yongsun had entered college she was still with Eric and was apparently very happy with him. She was earning good grades and had regained her popularity status that she had as a child before she met Moonbyul. Moonbyul became fully reacquainted with Jin and now was familiarized with his group of friends. After working a lot and getting help by her parents, she was able to buy a used motorcycle and fix it back up to brand new condition. Whenever she thought too much about Yongsun, she would go for a ride. Jin liked to make fun of her, stating that she might as well marry her bike. He would make those comments before engulfing his best friend into a tight hug. He understood what it meant to be in love with someone he couldn’t have. He wanted her to have to experience a beautiful relationship and get over Yongsun. He knew better though. He wanted to hate her for not realizing the pain she put Moonbyul through, but he couldn’t.

              It was two months before the end of Moonbyul’s last year as a regular student when she received a call from Yongsun. During that entire year, they had only talked a handful of times briefly. Yongsun would message her ‘Merry Christmas!’ and ‘Happy New Years’ and leave a nice message for her birthday, but that was it. Yongsun didn’t come home that often as she now liked to travel to where her friends and boyfriend were. Moonbyul couldn’t help but admitting that she missed Yongsun. She missed her so much that Jin had to step in and get her from scrolling down Yongsun’s Instagram page like a lost puppy. He had to step in to do a lot of things. Jin and his friends liked to drink, so gradually Moonbyul sculpted a taste for hard liquor. There was more than one occasion that he would drag Moonbyul away from where the supply of alcohol was and get her sobered up. She wasn’t on her way to becoming an alcoholic, but boy did she enjoy the feeling of forgetting who a Yongsun was and remembering how great it is to feel a woman’s body underneath her.

              The call started awkwardly with either of them not knowing what to say. There was a time when neither of them knew when to shut up while they were on the phone with each other. Yongsun started with an apology for not calling or texting her, stating that she was just really busy and it kept slipping her mind. Moonbyul felt her chest tighten up at the fact that Yongsun really did move on from their friendship. She wished she could find it in her to be angry at her. Of course, she can’t because it takes two to have a conversation. Moonbyul gathers the courage to ask what Yongsun needed, because now this was their reality. Yongsun was quite for a moment before speaking very quietly that Eric had been cheating on her. Moonbyul’s eyes had widen from the revelation before she regained her composure. Yongsun continued to talk about how she didn’t know who to talk about this with, how none of her friends would really get how she felt about it. No one except her.

              The words were like bullets flying straight into Moonbyul’s heart. She wanted to scream that Yongsun was the one who left her. She was the one who moved on and built an entire life that did not include her. Instead, she asks where she is. Yongsun mumbles that she is at home and Moonbyul tells her to come over. Again, a few years ago, Yongsun would have come over from the start without a phone call. The thought saddened her even more. She started to believe she really was a masochist. Her heart was beating as if she was 10 years old again talking to her for the first time. She threw on her riding jacket and grabbed her spare helmet that had been laying on a chair. When she came downstairs, her mother had called to her asking if she was going to ride over to Jin’s house.

              Her mother couldn’t mask the worrying look that she gave her daughter when she admitted that Yongsun was the one coming over. Moonbyul knew that she shouldn’t, but god she had missed her so badly. So, when there is a knock at the door, Moonbyul opens it and can’t stop herself from smiling at seeing her. Yongsun had really grown up to be incredibly beautiful in every way imaginable. Yongsun’s first reaction towards seeing her past best friend was to launch herself into her arms. In the frenzy of getting attacked by a death grip of a hug, Moonbyul’s spare helmet dropped to the ground with a loud thunk. Yongsun examined it before looking back at her with a smirk. Of course, she had gotten a motorcycle. Moonbyul looked down sheepishly and lead her into the garage where her baby was parked. Sometimes, only having a motorcycle to ride was a bad thing, but on those beautiful warm sunny days it was like a dream. Yongsun put on her helmet and climbed on the back of the bike. She wrapped her arms around Moonbyul’s waist and they began to descend the drive way.

              Moonbyul briefly mentioned that riding her bike put her heart at ease and wanted to drive around before Yongsun talked about what had happened with Eric. After 20 minutes of riding, Moonbyul stopped on the side of the rode where an opening to a lake was. She cursed at the fact that her waist felt cooler without Yongsun’s arms wrapped around it. She found herself feeling pathetic for still having such intense feelings for this girl. Her thoughts were broken up by Yongsun’s excited banter about how amazing it was to ride with her and that she wished she had done it sooner. Moonbyul couldn’t help but smiling at the way her eyes lit up and her voice rang at a higher pitch than the voice she heard over the phone. It was her own slice of paradise- she would tell her as she locked her bike into place and laid down onto the grass that overlooked the lake. Yongsun followed her lead and placed the helmet beside her.

              After a minute of silence between the two girls, Yongsun spoke up about how Eric had been sleeping with another girl for a few months. She talked slowly like she was picking her words carefully. During the ending of their relationship, she felt like something was wrong between them. She didn’t want to stop it because Eric had grown to be something of great comfort to her. When she found out, she honestly didn’t know how to react. She was stunned, hurt, and angry but she was also relieved? She admitted that she felt like something had been missing in their relationship. She just didn’t know what. She backtracked and angrily said that she was furious with him and that their relationship was over for sure, but she just couldn’t turn that fire into anything more than what it was. Moonbyul watched the girl carefully, deciphering every facial expression and hand motion that the other girl used to display her emotions. Moonbyul felt like she was 15 again and still learning about what love meant.

              Yongsun had realized that she was staring and abruptly got embarrassed. She began to frantically talk about how selfish she has been by choosing a guy over her. How she came back into Moonbyul’s life just to talk about how her love life has gone to shit. Tears began to fill up her eyes as she apologizes her heart out for not being there when she should have been. She starts to stutter as she knows there is so much more she should be saying or apologizing for. Moonbyul finds that she can no longer stand to see her like this. Moonbyul moves over to get into a comfortable position and cups Yongsun’s cheeks with her hands. She recites what she told her when they were collectively 10 and 11 years old. ‘You’re so cute when you’re struggling on what to say.’ That was the final push that broke the dam. Yongsun began to sob into Moonbyul’s shirt as Moonbyul held her as close as possible. They stayed like that for a while before Yongsun pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and red and her breathing was shallow but god did Moonbyul want to kiss her. She wanted to kiss her with every fiber of her being and take away the guilt and pain that the other girl was feeling.

              Instead, she kissed Yongsun’s forehead and pressed theirs together speaking words of comfort that things were going to be alright. After that day, their relationship picked up where it left off. If anything, it was better than how it was when it had ended. It was as if Yongsun now looked at Moonbyul in a new light. They now talked every day about anything and everything. Although the feelings of unrequited love were still blazing bright, things felt different. Yongsun’s dorm was only 45 minutes away so she could come see her whenever she could. Moonbyul was still deciding on if she wanted to continue her studies or just join the work force and work her way up. In the end, she decided to go to college. They went on drives, they sang a lot, they went out to eat with each other often. Everything they did, they did together. When they were separated, they longed to be reunited.

              One day they were watching a movie during their summer break, Yongsun’s head on Moonbyul’s shoulder and a blanket covering their bodies. When Yongsun spoke, she could tell that Yongsun was choosing her words carefully by the slow pace of her speech. She was surprised when she asked when she knew she liked girls. Moonbyul didn’t know how to answer. She knew she liked girls when she realized that she could never look at a man the way she did towards Yongsun. Instead, she just makes an offhand joke about realizing that women are less messy than boys. Yongsun shoved her away and requests that she answer the question seriously. Biting her lip, Moonbyul began to recite that she knew she wasn’t into men when she realized that there was no attraction there. She realized how pretty women were, how soft their lips must be. She must have been droning on about it for 5 minutes before Yongsun stops her with a kiss. Moonbyul wouldn’t describe it as fireworks, but as a slow burning tsunami of hot fire rolling around in her stomach.

              She felt ignited like she was high on the highest quality drug there could be. When Yongsun had pulled back, Moonbyul wanted to pull her back in. They both stared at each other with slightly open mouths. Yongsun sharply turned her head and apologized for what she had done and started to make the motion of getting up before she was pulled directly back down. This time, there was no instead. Moonbyul gripped the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss. She wanted another hit of the drug that she now could call Yongsun. No previous kisses from her past trysts could even begin to compare to how it felt kissing her. The taste of Yongsun’s lips were as enchanting as she had always dreamed. Yongsun matched her intensity by gripping her waist tightly brining her in closer. When they pulled away, they both just stared at each other not knowing what to say. Moonbyul gulped and realize that now was the time. 12 years of her life were spent in creating this moment where her emotions finally came to the surface.

              With a sharp intake, she gathered up the courage she had gained when Yongsun kissed her. The words tumbled out of her mouth whether she wanted them to or not. She had been in love with her for as long as she knew what love was, and was enchanted by her since the moment she first saw her. Yongsun’s covered her mouth and turned away. She began to tremble at the knowledge of this revelation. She began to repeat sentences like ‘all this time’ and ‘god I must have hurt you so many times without knowing’ ‘fuck why didn’t you tell me’. The more she rambled, the less confident Moonbyul felt about Yongsun returning her feelings. What if the kiss was just Yongsun’s way of testing if she liked girls? It was like telepathy that Yongsun immediately rushes in to explain that she isn’t rejecting her feelings and kissed her again. Moonbyul pulls away and asks what this means to Yongsun. Her reply is that she isn’t sure. The feelings are new and she has no idea what’s next.

They spend the rest of summer vacation exploring both themselves and their new-found relationship.

-21 Years old-

              Moonbyul wakes up to the sun shining down into her face. She was currently naked in bed next to Yongsun. The way the sun shined down on Yongsun made her look like a gift that only an angel itself could provide to her. Moonbyul traced down the spine of her back, she loved waking up to her girlfriend like this. They had been together now for a little over 2 and a half years but she still couldn’t believe that it was real and not a dream. She was staring down at her when Yongsun opened her and placed a good morning kiss below her collar bone where her face was buried into. Moonbyul returned the favor by lightly kissing the top of her head. Moonbyul snuggled into her girlfriend and mumbled a ‘guess what’. With it being so early in the morning, Yongsun responded with a voice that expected an answer. ‘Im in love with you.’ ‘Good that makes two of us.’

They really did love each other.

-27 years old-

              Moonbyul stands at the alter anxiously awaiting to see her bride. Her bride. The words just seemed so impossible to comprehend. Jin is standing next to her grinning like an idiot. They always talked about how her life was like a movie and how it took 21 years to get to this point. Moonbyul wore a black suit with her hair down. Yongsun, escorted by her now step-father, marched down the aisle with a gorgeous long white dress. Moonbyul felt herself tear up at how beautiful her bride looked. Not only that but how angry she was that Yongsun’s family declined their invitation to see their own flesh and blood get married. Yongsun soothed those worries though, because she had all the family she needed as long as she was with Moonbyul.

In the end, they say they do.