#and the first time around I missed the line where they get off the carousel so I imagined them having this intense conversation while

[roitaminnah]

hey have u guys read the fic bandit queens of the mont satiné shopping mall. (shaking through tears) i think u should. join me in my insanity <3

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts from the article (which appeared online as cast and crew were traveling to their first rehearsal today):

On a chilly day in early February, Jonathan Groff, Daniel Radcliffe, and Lindsay Mendez are huddled on a couch in a photo studio in Queens. Not three weeks after Merrily We Roll Along ended its off-Broadway run at the New York Theatre Workshop, gathering again for a photo shoot has made all of the actors cry. (An amused publicist thinks it was the sight of their old costumes, by Soutra Gilmour, that set everyone off.) “It’s just really settling in that we’re taking this to Broadway,” offers Mendez, a Tony winner for Jack O’Brien’s 2018 revival of Carousel. “It’s a big dream for us to get to shepherd this piece, which means so much to so many people, and yet has never gotten its proper due.”

“To hear the overture on Broadway…?” Groff adds. “I’m gonna die.”

In the Broadway production, which begins previews this September at the Hudson Theatre, Groff stars as Frank, ​in turns slickly handsome, roiled with conflict, and sparky as a golden retriever; Radcliffe as an endearingly neurotic Charley; and Mendez as Mary, whose wide smile conceals great depths of longing (namely, for Frank).

For Groff, doing Merrily felt fated. “I had just reached this point in my life where I was really looking back and reflecting on relationships that I suddenly realized were almost two decades old,” he explains. He later learned that Radcliffe and Mendez had done their own “first big New York shows” (revivals of Equus and Grease, respectively) at around the same time. This was no small thing, as they approached a story as concerned with the vicissitudes of a career in the performing arts as anything else.

“The people that start young and then stay in it well into adulthood tend to love it,” Radcliffe says. “They tend to be doing it because there is something in their bones that makes them want to do this. And I think we all have that.” Adds Mendez, “There’s an unspoken-ness between us. There’s a lot of trust, and a lot of teamwork.” (When I ask Friedman about her stars’ touching natural chemistry, she tells me that in Merrily, Sondheim has “written love songs. He’s written about losing love, wanting love, missing love, despair, all the things, but it’s all around love.” So, in the year that she spent building her New York cast, “I looked for loving people.”)

For all intents and purposes, the Broadway revival is the same show that ran at the New York Theatre Workshop. Not only do both productions share the same actors—including Katie Rose Clarke as Frank’s estranged first wife, Beth; Hamilton alumna Krystal Joy Brown as his glamorous second wife, Gussie; and Reg Rogers as Joe, the producer behind the first hit show that Frank and Charley write together—but the same creative and production team, too. “We had a big break between the New York Theatre Workshop and going to Broadway, and every single person has come with it. They all took other jobs in order to be able to do this job,” Friedman says. “It just cast a spell over us all.”

As they move into the Hudson—which Friedman selected for its intimate-feeling scale (of Broadway’s 41 active theaters, it’s one of only nine that seats under 1,000 people)—she is keen to protect that enchantment. “I am absolutely determined not to do anything different,” Friedman says. “The piece is the piece; it speaks for itself. And as long as we keep the integrity of that and the joy and the warmth and the love and the storytelling—it should sing.” This has more or less been her line from the beginning. “One of the things that Maria has said from day one is, ‘I have not changed a lyric of this show or a word of the script. I am doing this show as written,’ ” Groff says. “It’s not like she’s doing a take on Merrily. She really believes in the piece itself without adding any sort of flashy concept.”

Then as now, her deepest regret is that Sondheim is not alive to see the production, but she knows that he would have delighted in Merrily’s return to Broadway. Her only hope is that after all these years, audiences are ready to receive it. “It’s a profound piece,” Friedman says. “If it gets you, it stays with you and makes you ask questions. And if it doesn’t get you, it’s got some great tunes.”

PIANO MAN

Groff wears a Gucci jacket. Pants from The Row. Grooming, Amy Komorowski.

In this story: hair, Ilker Akyol; makeup, Francelle Daly for Love+Craft+Beauty. Produced by The Canvas Agency. Set Design: Viki Rutsch.

[itsbeesknees]

Ode to the Grim Reaper

Terzo x GN!reader

——0——

Summary: Terzo is dead. Atleast.. he should be.

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, death, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning, revived corpses, use of google translated Italian, mentions of gore and blood (beheadings),

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: This is my first time doing an x reader, so don’t mind me testing the waters here,, I apologize if it sounds a little rushed, I wanted to try and keep it short.

Even though there is technically no smut, all my works are 18+ regardless, I do not want any minors interacting with my fics‼️

——0——

Terzo is dead.

Well, he should be dead.

Dead people can not, should not, feel things once they’re gone. Their bodies must remain cold, frigid, and lifeless— becoming nothing more than a shriveled and polar shell of what they once were.

Dead people should also not blink. Yet here lies the deceased, supposedly deceased, third Emeritus brother, nictitating his dried eyes. He blinks again. Because, as it would seem, he does not play the role of a deadman very well. He’s a corpse abiding by his own rules now, curling his toes and sucking in a harrowing breath.

Terzo can’t entirely see yet, all that’s currently lining his peripheral is nothing but a kaleidoscope of dancing black dots and faint popping static. He doesn’t understand where he is, doesn’t quite realize he needs to be a motionless cadaver and not a quivering boy. But his neck burns. It won’t stop burning. A deadman’s neck shouldn’t burn, however the pain is singing Terzo away at the edges anyways, convulsing his nerves like a white hot live wire.

Lethargic and rather sluggish, he flexes his gloved hands as he wakes and settles deep into his weeping bones, palms eagerly sliding off his sternum and stretching outwards, only to be curtly stopped by a gritty glass barrier. The more Terzo’s vision focuses, the quicker he comes face to face with ragged claw marks that scoured each side of the coffin he had been tucked into, much like a porcelain doll propped in a curated case. The top pane of glass was missing, removed for replacement. It’s almost sickening how easily Terzo is able to pull himself up into a proper sitting position because of this, since he hadn’t been as fortunate when he first got shoveled into the casket.

Right. How long ago was that again? How much time had passed since he was lounging around that dingy table, squabbling with his brothers?

His neck continues to burn.

It wasn’t just his neck. The scalding infernal heat ran rivulets around the insides of his throat and melted his vocal chords as well, as if someone had butchered the muscle and sewed it back together with fishing line.

The horrid thought of such a thing has Terzo shooting his fingers up to brush along the cusp of his jaw, before briefly sinking them down to the culprit of his torment with a featherlight caress. The leathers of his glove won’t let him catch onto the cracking textures of his dried, flaked blood that had dribbled out and stained the collar of his chasable, but it snags the ridges of a fresh scar coiling in his skin.

It is then Terzo realizes, mortified, that his head had been severed and reattached.

His hands tremble as he peels back his gloves, wanting desperately to feel the festering wound for himself, without anything else in the way. To make sure that it was in fact real, and he hadn’t just conjured it up in a spat of paranoia in attempts to make sense of this wretched situation. Though, if Terzo was being completely honest with himself, none of this felt real. As far as he could be concerned, it was all some twisted dream. A dark carousel of sweltering nightmares and glass coffins and rancid stenches of death.

The calcine pinching in his throat reminds him not to get too ahead of himself.

Regardless of his fright, stripping away his gloves only seemed to distract him further, all due to the glinting band on his ring finger— A ring. A wedding ring. Which means a spouse. His spouse. His lover and muse. You.

The initial shock of ‘rising from the grave’ recedes like the tide of an unforgiving sea, with bittersweet tendrils of memory beginning to seep and ebb back into the fragments of Terzo’s shattered mind. Of course he remembers you. How could he ever forget?

The thought of you flanked any other pressing matter into the shadows of his closet, because he wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with everything else yet. It was all too much. If he actually accepted it all— the mockery, the failed expectations, the injected needle, the gaping laceration of a decapitation— he may actually just wither away. So, here Terzo’s quandary will rot in the metaphorical wardrobe with all his other skeletons, until he can finally will himself to face the monstrous calamity that was his death.

It took a miracle to puppet his body out of the casket, his joints hissing and protesting from days.. or months, of inexperience. He had to clutch the edges of the hardy table his coffin laid upon for good measure, since he surely would’ve fallen straight to his haunches if he hadn’t. Yet he managed to liberate himself nonetheless.

The room surrounding him was concealed by a tenebrous midnight, dim and sterile, wreathing his cryptic figure in gloomy shadows. Terzo knew this place, he didn’t need night-vision to attain that he was hobbling around the morgue. The lack of light made it much more troublesome to make a break for the door, but it spared his already splintered heart from anymore misery. Because, if the lights had been on, he would’ve seen the bodies of his brothers displayed pristinely in their own polished coffins.

Lucky for him, Terzo supposes, that the door with the wrought iron handle was unlocked. He has to strain his muscles to wrench it open, which is comical, but expected for a reanimated corpse. Entering the hallway was a bit easier, yet he still leans on the walls for support.

Terzo has walked these corridors hundreds, if not thousands of times, but not like this. Never like this.

Everything was still, silent. No deacons or priests walked through foyers, no siblings of sin scuttled around the courtyards— You could blame that on the fact it was nearing one in the morning, and majority of the congregation was tucked securely underneath their crisp cotton sheets and puffy duvets.

Terzo was grateful for the relative solitude, really, because he certainly did not want to risk the chance of running into any members of the Clergy when all he wanted to do is get to you.

It’s childish, how hastily he longs to be with you through all this madness. His own head had gotten chopped off and weaved back on for fuck’s sake, he should be screaming, lunging into hysterics. Those are the proper reactions to grieving an unexpected death, right?

Later, Terzo assures himself, not all too convincingly, there will be time for that later. Preferably when he’s shrouded away from everyone, so no one can witness him crumbling.

Right now all he wants is you. Maybe he was greedy in that way, clinging to the idea of holding you again. Greedy with your affection, hoarding it like a dragon would with its finest treasures. Terzo loved the way you smiled, the sound of your voice, the way you felt, the warmth your company could bring. So much so, that he never wanted to let you go. Yes, the third Emeritus brother was a greedy one. But only because he’d been alone for so long. Terzo could be surrounded by multitudes of idolizing crowds on the daily and still manage to feel achingly lonely.

His loneliness stems from pure selfishness, he thinks, or his self sabotage thinks, since he can’t tell the difference between the two anymore. Terzo’s privileged, he knows this, he’s rich in the ways of friends and he’s never met someone who was poor company. Yet here he is, sequestered and drowning amidst his woes.

You’d probably chide him for his thinking if you were walking beside him right now. Terzo's lips quirk into a wistful smile. You were always good like that, anchoring his feet to the floor when all he wanted to do was let the hate consume him.

There was no use in ever trying to put up a front around you, because you were like a bloodhound that could smell malarkey a mile away. And even if Terzo was incredibly reserved and a tad bit stubborn with his emotions, you were patient. Waiting patiently, listening patiently, and when he’d finally rupture and lament into your open arms, you’d patiently card your fingers through the locks of his raven black hair.

There was a sense of vulnerability between you two, something you witnessed in Terzo that others did not, a sacred secret kept between two lovers. A mutual understanding. He may have been Papa once, but he was yours first.

The ministry is too hollow tonight, too big. A bitter gust of wind whistles through a set of open windows as the plodding corpse treks on, one stinging step after the other. The way to your shared quarters is muscle memory to him, it would be an easy path to tread if it wasn’t for the prickling soreness in his throat and chest.

Eugh, he definitely was a sight for sore eyes.

How would you react to seeing him like this, all things considered? There’s a chance you might scream, maybe even hurl a pillow at him, and Terzo would never hold it against you. He’s fairly terrified of his present state, too. Would you cry? Point a finger at his chest and wail and tell him over and over; ‘I told you so’? You had told him so, after all. You knew something was amiss ever since the Clergy tore Terzo off that stage during his final ballad of Monstrance Clock. You had been skittish and riddled with worry for his well-being, and despite all of Terzo’s consoling— he was fine, everything was going to be fine, mio caro.— you were right.

He imagined you enraged, furious at him, not willing to forgive, never willing to forgive. But you weren’t like that. Perhaps you’d cry, or scream, or throw something at him in a fit of shock, but never act spiteful. The most malicious Terzo had ever experienced you being was in domestic acts of grudgefulness in passing of some fatuous argument; like rolling over in bed and giving him the cold shoulder. Or drowning him out with the vacuum. Once you even went as far as ‘accidentally’ washing his whites with some of your cherry reds. Petty, but not cruel.

How far along were you in your stages of mourning? Were you still waiting for him to return to you? Have you locked yourself into the depths of your shared quarters? Have you shut the world out? Terzo hoped that if you were waiting, he hadn’t made you wait for too long.

He tries to break down the remainder of his journey into smaller, more manageable pieces. He reclines against limestone walls to catch his breath when the pain shocks him too much to bear, and starts again when the image of you enters his mind. He almost sobs at the sight of your door.

Hesitant, Terzo jingles the doorknob once, twice, then throws it open, stepping into the darkened room.

Everything is just as it was since he last occupied the space, however long ago that had been. Wedding pictures still hang pristinely on the walls, his comb is still intact on the surface of the vanity. It all remains hauntingly untouched, all except for the bed.

You stir from under the covers, most likely woken from the noise he made in opening the door, rising and blinking blearily in the direction of where he stood. There you were and here he was.

Terzo finds himself faltering, unsure of how to go about this. What’s the proper etiquette of greeting your lover after being recently deceased?

“Terzo?” You call out, voice faraway and hoarse, wavering at every step he takes towards you. Terzo should not be there. He’s dead, immobile in a glass coffin somewhere. You’re either dreaming or must have finally lost it.

But then he replies, whispering your name and moving closer, and the mattress is suddenly dipping from the weight of him sitting on its borders. For a moment you say nothing and he says nothing, only because he’s reaching out to stroke the skin of your soft cheek. His delicate touch makes you recoil frightfully as if you had been stung by a wasp, since you hadn’t actually been expecting to feel him.

“Is this real?” You breathe, eyes wide and flicking down to gape at the gruesome scar that decorated his neck like some debauched necklace of curdled gore. “Are you real?”

“Yes, amore. I’m real.” It pains him to speak, and Terzo’s larynx is definitely worse for wear, sounding all garbled and warbled. But he needs to talk to you, apologize for anything and everything. He needs you to know how sorry he is, because he failed you. He made all the wrong choices, and look where that ended him. It hurts, he really did try, he tried so hard to play the role, appease the Clergy well enough to leave him and his beloved be, yet he was playing checkers while the world was playing chess. And Terzo was never any good at chess. It wasn’t his fault, but he was too lost to understand that.

“I’m sorry.” He begins, it’s a start. “I’m sorry, mi dispiace tanto.” Then came the tears, dripping and smearing the paints that marred his face. It’s all coming crashing down now, every inhale he takes sounds like agony.

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. He wants to say, needs to say, but can’t manage the words.

You take Terzo and ease him into your arms, shakily tucking his face into your shoulder so he can cry freely without anyone else seeing. It was what he always preferred; weeping into shoulders or pillows, hiding from the chance of being caught under a scrutinizing gaze.

Terzo is dead. Was dead. Should still be dead. But he’s not.

So, relieved and confused, but mostly confused, you thread your fingers through his hair. Later, you will talk and ask questions and shed your own tears until sunlight filters through the drapes. But for now, you hug Terzo, your Terzo, and shield him from the world as he wails anew.

—o—

[masadd]

my interpretations of the cccc events except in this version i go almost directly off the songs or just add something for fun

so . my interpretation of the very first cycle / loop . this was caused by mind [based off that one line in the soul eclectic] because of heart's reaction to whole breaking up / divorcing / whatever went down . mind essentially thinks heart's reaction [being depressed] is irrational and hurting them.

START

sets . so whole splits into heart, mind and soul . hooray!

in this i like to think heart isn't entirely blind, but just naturally sensitive to light — his blindfold acts kind of like sunglasses but way better. this is mainly based off light and the heart acoustic

nothing significant happens in the beginning for a while, but heart and mind are heavily divided with soul trying to get them together as usual. [dream—night] [also i haven't listened to never meant to know very much so idk what goes on in there!!!]

eventually . heart reaches his limit with mind, and tried to shoot at him with a gun. unfortunatrly he MISSES because he does not have the best eyesight 😦 [RoE]

mind sees this as more of a reason to assert his dominance, proving to heart that he's nothing but a parasite and ultimately breaking him down enough so that he falls into apathy [based on RoE, just apathy, and mucka blucka]

heart feels incredibly guilty and begins to [unintentionally/subconsciously] guilt trip us [the viewers] in primarily good day, just apathy, and the heart acoustic, also showing how . Villainous mind can be

this is kinda where it gets different

skips to the mind electric, mind just Destroys heart like usual in it nothing special [ha] happens . same for the soul eclectic . soul expresses how sick he is of their fighting.

this finally gets to mind a bit . we go to storm and a spring, where mind offers to give heart a chance, but explains that he has to listen to soul . then to be born hooray !! he tries to convince heart rhat he's not the villain blah blah everything that happens in be born . again he tries to convince heart to listen to soul so they finally intertwine

the bidding . mind is also getting tired of their arguing by this point [mainly based off the line "we've been here like a thousand times, circled all around this dreadful carousel. and yet you still continue putting in your dimes and continue this revolving hell."

anyways . they finally harmonize in the bidding. the order of my interpretation settles out to normal here again .

the events of light happen, where they finally really begin to see each others point of views. they're definitely to a better place, and start to finally settle down and just kind of chill for VoaC and stuff !! hooray!!

finally . they are to the point where they're on such good terms that they unite once more to form whole yippee

but then . it re

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 6

A/N: Sam visits Sweden! And another first for these two 😘

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: some light smut, swearing.

I bite my lip as I look at the signs in the Gothenburg airport, trying to figure out which way to the arrivals area. I think I’m going in the right direction, but I’m tired and everything seems to be in Swedish first and English second. Understandable of course, but my tired brain can’t seem to make out which direction I’m supposed to go.

“Sam!” I hear Kevin’s voice call to me from the left. I whip my head and see him striding confidently towards me. “Hi!” He says as he lifts me off my feet and into a tight hug.

“Hi!” I exclaim as he sets me back down. His lips connect with mine in a hot, needy kiss and my knees are instantly weak. “Did you miss me?” I wonder as he pulls away briefly.

“Uncontrollably.” He confesses before capturing my lips in his. “I am so happy you are here! I can’t wait to show you around and introduce you to people.”

“Oh! You told people about me; that’s a good sign.”

“They are probably sick of hearing about you at this point.” He laughs, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go get your suitcase.” Kevin begins to lead the way to the baggage claim. “How was your flight?”

“It was good! Not as long as I thought. I’ve never been on a plane that long and I was a little nervous.”

“Yeah, it’s weird the first time. Soon you’ll be a pro.” He winks at me.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’m ever coming back here.” I stick my tongue out at him. “That’s my bag.” I point to the Navy, hard cover suit case coming towards us on the carousel. Kevin grabs it and easily pulls the heavy bag off the machine. “Hot.” I wiggle my brows at him.

“So, my friends were dying to meet you right away.” He begins with an eye roll. “We are heading to lunch with them right after this, but we could stop at my place and drop off your things first.”

“Okay.” I nod to him as he laces our fingers together.

We walk out of the airport and into the bright, blue summer day. My skin tingles in response to the sun after being on the plane for 7 hours. It’s funny how I left one day in Minnesota and have entered into the next one in Sweden. The concept is foreign to me since this is my first international experience. I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else.

“How far away is your place from here?” I ask Kevin as we reach his car. This one is a silver BMW, a stark contrast from his black Audi in Minnesota.

“Like 20 minutes.” He answers me as he places my suitcase in his trunk. “The restaurant we are going to for lunch is close to my place.”

“What is it called?” I ask as I settle into my seat.

“It’s Kafé Magasinet. It’s a popular spot in Sweden. They have pastries and sandwiches, so traditional lunch food.” He assures me.

Kevin enters the highway as we head to his apartment. His hand finds mine and we spend the drive to his apartment catching up. I share how the family is doing- of course they all say hi. Even my brother who has participated in several FaceTime calls with Kevin this offseason. Kevin shares with me his training numbers including how he has lost 10 pounds and added a considerable amount of muscle so far this off-season.

“I really miss cake though.” He confesses to me in exasperation as he signals to turn into a parking lot. “And it’s everywhere here. You’ll see.” He puts the car in park and we both exit the vehicle.

Kevin’s building is a few blocks off the river in a bustling, young neighborhood in Sweden. There are cafes, restaurants, and several businesses lining the street to our right. It reminds me of the North Loop neighborhood in Minneapolis- trendy, upscale, and vibrant. Kevin grabs my suitcase and we begin the walk into his building. We take the elevator to the fifth floor, the highest, and step out into a dim hallway that leads to his unit. Kevin flips the lock of his door and pushes it open for me to walk in.

“This is a little different than where you live in Minnesota.” I chuckle as I look around the small apartment. It is a similar size of one bedroom apartments in Minnesota, if not a little bit smaller. It’s furnished with the bare necessities for living along with a few house plants that I’m not sure how he keeps alive while he’s in the U.S.

“I live in a bigger space in America because I’m there longer than here now.” He tells me, tossing his keys on the counter. “This is a little small, but it’s just me, so I don’t need much. I picked this place because of the view though. Come see.” He opens the door to the balcony that overlooks the Göta älv. I step onto the small balcony and instantly smile. The view of the city and the water with a glittering surface is stunning. “Wait until the sun sets tonight. It will be even better.” He assures me. I place my hands on the railing and look out at the city. There are boats cruising on the water. The sun is shining and there is a warm breeze that has my hair dancing about my face.

“Sweden is beautiful.” I murmur to Kevin, running my hand through my hair to push it out of my face.

“It’s nothing compared to this view.” He tells me with smoldering eyes. I watch him as he moves to stand behind me. His hands come to my hips and he tugs me back into his body. A coy smile tilts my lips at the feel of his erection pressing into my butt.

“I thought we only had a few minutes?” I breathe out to him as he begins to kiss along my collar bone, heading towards my neck.

“They can wait.” He mumbles against my skin. The feel of his hot breath dancing across the wet kisses he left on my skin has me shivering. “I can’t though.”

“You’ve waited long enough.” I agree with him, turning in his arms. My hands cup his face as his lips press down into mine. His lips are hungry and his tongue dances against mine in a rhythm we haven’t forgotten. “How much time do we have?”

“As long as we need.” He walks us back into the apartment and guides me towards his bedroom. I take in the plain white walls, navy blue comforter and the made bed.

“You definitely cleaned for me.” I grin as his hands find the bottom of my shirt, lifting it over my head.

“You wouldn’t have stayed here if I hadn’t.” He tells me honestly, his fingers moving to the button on my shorts and opening them. I wiggle my hips to help him undress me and he groans at the sight of my sexy bra and panties. They are black lace you can see through just enough to incite a fire. Kevin leans down and places his lips on my nipple, sucking it into his mouth through the thin fabric of my bra. I draw in a deep breath and push my breasts into his face, holding him there. Fuck, I forgot how good he is at this. I let out a moan as my head drops back in ecstasy.

“Welcome to Sweden, baby.” He murmurs against my skin while trailing kisses up my chest and neck to my lips. “You’re going to love it here.”

With his lips on me like this, I already do. _ _ _

“Sam!” A beautiful blonde woman shouts when Kevin and I enter the patio of Kafé Magasinet after we have finished loving on each other. I cautiously slow as she runs to me with open arms. “Finally!” She pulls me into her embrace and gives me a squeeze. Her hug is so genuine that I find myself hugging her back willingly. “I’m Ella.” She says. “Martin’s girlfriend.”

“Oh! Martin, your training partner.” I look at Kevin who nods his head in confirmation from the discussion we had in the car.

“Ella has been dying to meet you.”

“Yeah!” She insists, shoving at Kevin’s shoulder. “Fiala won’t stop talking about you. It’s fascinating! I must get to know you!” She shares a look with Kevin before she turns back to me. “Come meet Martin!” She grabs my hand and pulls me over to an equally beautiful man with dark brown hair and mirrored Ray bans.

“Sam!” He greets me enthusiastically. I give a large grin and shake his out stretched hand. “Please, join us.” I look around the table he came from, taking in the sights of the rest of Kevin’s friend group. They all have big smiles on their face and greet me with nods and waves.

“Hi.” I wave shyly to everyone. Kevin introduces me to everyone individually, sharing the back story of how long he has known everyone and how they met. I nod my head along in understanding. I feel a little overwhelmed at meeting everyone at once, but am thankful for the positive response. I bite back a yawn as we reach the last person- a fit looking man with a bald head and a kind smile. “Andreas.” I say before Kevin can introduce us.

“Sam.” He repeats back to me and welcomes me into a hug.

“I’ve heard so much about you. I feel as though I know you!” I laugh as we step apart.

“I can say the same about you! How are Alex and Felicia? And Sawyer and Serena?” I tilt my head back and laugh with genuine joy at the sounds of my family member’s names.

“Ah! You do know all about me. They are good. Probably missing me, but they’ll survive on their own for the next few weeks.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will. We are happy to have you join us in Sweden. Kevin has been looking forward to this for awhile.”

“I keep hearing that. It’s good to know he’s missed me since he left.” I turn and take in Kevin’s face. His brown eyes have melted into pools of chocolate and I have an overwhelming desire to kiss his lips. His smile is easy as he pulls out a chair for me to sit down at the table.

“I’ve missed you very much.” He whispers to me before placing his lips against my cheek. I blush as I notice everyone at the table seems to be watching us. I lick my lips and glance down at my menu, noticing it’s all in Swedish. I furrow my brows as I look for words on the menu that look familiar.

“Here you are.” The waitress says over my right shoulder, handing me a menu that has been translated to English.

“Thank you!” I say enthusiastically. I glance down at the menu then snap my head back up. “Oh shoot… What is Thank You in Swedish?” I whisper to Kevin. He smiles with pursed lips as he swallows a drink of water.

“Tack.” He says to me as he puts the glass down. “Most people here speak English, so don’t worry about it.”

“Tack.” I say back in a whisper, feeling the letters fall off my tongue awkwardly. He nods his head that I spoke correctly and gives my shoulder a slight, encouraging rub. He knows I’m out of my comfort zone. I can feel his appreciation for my embrace of it all.

The conversation around me has reverted back to Swedish and I find myself studying my menu for awhile. Finally, I decide on a Margarita pizza. The menu states they have a wood-fire oven and I think that sounds light but delicious for a warm day. I slide the menu aside and grab my water, taking a delicate sip while looking around the table. There has to be something in the water over here- every single person at this table is gorgeous. It’s a mix of blondes and brunettes with blue or green eyes. High cheek bones, bright smiles and perfect teeth stare back at me.

“Hej, kan ni alla prata engelska för Sam?” Kevin asks the group who collectively and immediately switch to English. I glance at Kevin for a translation. “I asked them to speak English. Then they can actually get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” I insist to him, waving my hand in the air like it’s no big deal.

“Well, I do. They’re here for you all to get to know each other. If you don’t know what they are saying, that’s going to be tough.”

“Sorry, Sam.” Ella says from down the table. “It’s just natural.”

“It’s okay. I wish I knew more Swedish, so you all didn’t have to adjust for me.” I shrug with red cheeks. I hate that I feel out of place right now. I force my smile wider to fend off the insecurity I feel blooming in me.

“Kevin, you need to teach her more.” Andreas scolds him.

“It’s not like we have known each other for that long.” Kevin defends himself. “We will work on it.” He assures me, dropping a brief kiss on my lips. “In the meantime, you all can brush up on your English.” Kevin points around the table.

“Kev, our English is perfect. You’re the one who needs the work.” Martin laughs as him. “Sam should teach you.”

“Fuck off.” Kevin rolls his eyes at him as the rest of the group giggles.

“His English is good!” I defend him. “Except, now that he’s been here, his accent is really thick.” I admit with a shrug.

“Yeah, that happens every year. In America, it’s thick, then when I’m here, speaking in Swedish, I have an American accent. I can’t win.”

“What happens when you go home to Switzerland?” I ask him.

“It’s bad because my words morph into a combination of Czech, German, Swedish, and English with all of those accents combined. My mom gets frustrated with me a lot the first few days I am there.” Kevin laughs.

“That would be something to hear.” I giggle in response.

“Hopefully you’ll come with me to Switzerland soon and then you can experience it.” He murmurs just to me.

“Following a man around the world really isn’t my thing.” I tease him gently, wrinkling my nose at him so he understands I’m kidding.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” He insists to me. I bite my lip at the look he is giving me- like he wants to throw me on this table and lick every inch of my skin.

Lunch continues with easy conversation- in English of course- until we are stuffed to the brim with pizza, wine, and bread. Kevin and I break off from the rest of the group after we settle the tab, opting to do a little sight seeing rather than follow them around Gothenburg to drink the day away. I promise Ella we will meet up later this week while the boys are training so she can show me a few local shops for gifts to bring home.

Kevin and I make our way to Slottsskogen- a park and mini zoo in the center of the city. As we drive, Kevin points out other local attractions such as Liseberg, the famous amusement park in Sweden, along with the Botanical Gardens and the Gothenburg Museum of Art. We spend the rest of the day in the park, wandering around and taking in the sights of the area. We do make a stop at the zoo which hosts all different types of animals that make Sweden their home during various season. We see elk, deer, goats, ponies and even geese. They also have a handful of exotic animals as well, including Penguins and Seals. We happened to be there at the right time and laughed at the sight of the seals enjoying a meal of fish.

Hours later, we wander back to Kevin’s car and begin driving towards his apartment to drop off his car. He has reservations for us at a local restaurant, but we can walk there from his place. We both run up to his apartment to change into more date night attire- a dress for me and a button down for Kevin.

When we stroll up to the restaurant, Dinner 22, we are immediately seated at a quiet corner booth. The hostess hands Kevin and I menus, both of which are graciously in English. I feel relief at not having to ask for one or have Kevin translate the menu for me. Everything on the menu looks decadent and expensive. Despite the late lunch we had, I still feel like I am starving.

“Okay. How can I possible pick what I want?” I ask Kevin after scanning the meal options. “Everything looks incredible.”

“It is. This is where my agent and I have been meeting to discuss my contract. By the time we are done, we have to be rolled out of here.” He chuckles. “The steak and potatoes are to die for.”

“I believe you.” I tell him setting my menu down in resolution. You can’t go wrong with meat and potatoes.

The waitress returns and takes our food and drink orders. Kevin grabs a bottle of expensive, French wine that will pair nicely with both of our beef centric entrees. We clink our glasses together in a cheers before I sip the decadent red liquid between my lips.

“Oh Fu-“ I cut myself off with a laugh before I swear in such a fancy place. “That is some good wine.” I glance at the bottle, wondering if we can find that back in Minnesota.

“I brought my parents here last summer and my mom got this wine. It was so good and I usually am not a fan of reds.” He shrugs. “I figured you would like it.”

Soon, our food is being placed in front of us and I’m salivating at the smell. I grab my fork and stab a piece of perfectly cooked steak. The meat melts in my mouth and I say a silent prayer of thanks to the chefs in back.

“Wow… you were not wrong.” I tell Kevin excitedly.

“I’m glad you like it.” He is watching me over the candle in the middle of our table. The orange rays flick across his face but there is something about him that seems different tonight. His gaze continues to watch me as I softly chew on a potato. I glance around behind me nervously then look at him again.

“What?” I wonder with an awkward laugh.

“Hmm?” He asks as though he was lost in thought, sitting up a little straighter and taking a sip of his wine.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Yeah because I like the view.” He says nonchalantly. “I’ve been imagining what it would like for you to be here. You should know you’re fitting in well.”

“I don’t know about that.” I tell him, stabbing another potato. “The hostess had me pegged as American. That’s why she gave us the English menus.”

“I don’t think so. I asked for English menus in the reservation notes. If she thought you were American, she would have said enjoy your meal in English, not Swedish.” I think back to when we sat down, realizing that she did speak to us exclusively in Swedish.

“Do you like that I fit in here?” I ask him with a tilted head and inquisitive eyes.

“Yeah, it’s important to me.” He confesses softly. “Sweden is a big part of who I am and I wanted you to see me here. Meet my friends and fit into this part of my world too.”

“So, since I’m passing here with flying colors, I get to go to Switzerland too?” I joke with him.

“My sister will love you.” He confirms with a grin. I give him a genuine, soft laugh, pushing my plate away as Kevin does as well. Both of us are part of the clean plate club, not surprising with how delicious everything was.

“Are you making plans with me, Kevin Fiala?” I ask innocently, watching the way his eyes glitter in the light.

“Maybe.” We share a gaze that has the rest of the world fading from my mind.

I try to hold in the yawn that is pressing at my tongue to keep our light banter going, except I can’t help but let it out. Suddenly, I’m sleepy. The carbs and meat have taken over and the jet lag is threatening to pull me under. I glance at Kevin across the table who is giving me a cute and knowing smile.

“You’ve done good today.” He murmurs to me, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “You have officially reached a time that you can go to sleep and not risk more jet lag.”

“Am I a professional international traveler now?” I wonder sweetly, batting my lashes dramatically.

“Yeah baby, you are.” He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a few brightly colored bills, tossing them on the table. “Lets start walking back.” He reaches for my hand and we exit the restaurant into the Swedish night. I lace my arm through his and lean my head gently on his shoulder as we make our way down the street. “Are you up for some dessert?” He wonders hopefully. “There is an ice cream place close to here that’s pretty famous. Otherwise, we can just go back home.”

“I’d love ice cream.” I tell him. It sounds good, but the hopefulness in his features is really what has me saying yes. We turn off the street we are on and head one block to the east until we reach Triumf Glasscafe. Kevin and I both order a two scoop cup- him Salted Caramel and me a Cookies and Cream equivalent. We take our ice cream back to the square we just left as it has more seating than the overcrowded creamery. We find a spot on the fountain within the square and sit, listening to the sounds of the water clashing together.

“This is really good.” I admit to Kevin. “It is like the perfect kind of sweet and the texture is so smooth.”

“It’s not surprising they are one of the more popular places in Sweden.” He tells me.

“Definitely.” I agree, taking another bite. I still feel full from dinner though and am not sure I’ll be able to finish it. Regardless, I know a certain hockey player who would gladly devour the rest.

“I really enjoyed meeting your friends today.” I say to Kevin after a few moments of silence. “It’s nice to put faces with names and get to see what your life is like here.”

“I’m lucky to have some really great friends here. I moved to Gothenburg a few years ago and found a great group of people to take me in.”

“You must miss them while you’re in America.”

“I do.” He nods slowly to me. “Lately though, I’ve been finding myself missing America more than enjoying being here.” His eyes find mine and we share a knowing look. I give him a small kiss on his lips and place my hand on his thigh comfortingly. “I know I already said this, but I’m really glad you’re here, Sam.”

“Me too.” I say to him as he places his empty ice cream cup down.

“I ate too much. I might need a minute before we start walking again.” He pats his non-existent belly jokingly.

“Okay… Oh! You can start your Swedish lessons with me.” I say with an excited clap.

“Sure. Um… let me think of something common that you could use while you’re here.” He pauses for a moment then says “Oh here we go: Jag heter Sam. It means, my name is Sam.”

“Oof…” I say to him. “Jag-“ Kevin laughs and shakes his head.

“No, not Jag like Jaguar. It’s more like yo.” He motions for me to try again.

“Jag Heter Sam.” I repeat with extra concentration.

“Better!” He encourages me. “Okay how about.. Trevligt att träffas. Nice to meet you.”

“What?” I ask him with a laugh, “Repeat please.” Kevin does but I give him a cringe look and shake my head. “Those are tough sounds to make this late at night.” It’s currently 8:30pm but it might as well be 2:00am with the time swing I’ve been through today.

“Okay. Let’s try something else. Here is one you learned part of earlier: Tack så mycket.” Kevin says to me. I repeat the words to him and he nods with a shrug. “Close. It means, thank you so much.”

“Good, I want to keep my manners here.”

“Swedes like Americans that have manners.” His eyes twinkle at me. I can see the deep appreciation he has for me trying to learn Swedish. It’s strengthening our foundation and makes me feel close to him, which is a nice contrast to how I felt at lunch earlier. That insecurity and ineptitude has dissipated as the day has transpired.

“Noted.” I say to him. I feel a little breathless as he looks at me. Maybe it’s the night. Maybe it’s finally being together again, but the connection feels stronger and more tingly than ever. How am I going to leave here in 15 days without him?

“Oh here is a good one.. Talar du engelska? It means, do you speak English?” I nod, letting the words slowly roll off my tongue.

“I feel like I sound so American!” I finish with a loud laugh.

“You do.” He confirms with a quick laugh.

“You can take the girl out of America but not America out of the girl.” I chuckle. “Okay one more, then I definitely need to go to sleep!”

He wrinkles his brows together as if he is thinking, pursing his lips in a puzzling look. His gaze searches mine for a moment. His eyes slowly soften and his entire demeanor changes to something more serious. He reaches for my face and brushes my hair behind my ear. His hand cups my neck as he gradually brings his lips to mine. Our lips connect and I sigh, leaning into his body and grabbing his shirt lightly to keep him close. He tastes like caramel and smells slightly like wine from dinner.

“Jag älsker dig, Sam.” He whispers as he pulls away from me. His eyes are genuine and his body is very still. I freeze in response, my heart pounding as my eyes search his for the meaning of his words. Finally, he tells me after one more soft press of our lips, “I love you, Sam.” A slow grin breaks out on my face as I reach for him again, pulling our lips together once more. It’s a long, sweet kiss that I never want to end.

“I love you too, Kev.” I confess to him, resting my forehead against his. We are both smiling too wide to kiss again, so instead, I wrap my arms around him and hold him close to me. I bury my face into the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against my forehead. I breathe in slowly, smelling sweetness and the bright scent of his cologne.

“You could have said that in English first.” I finally whisper to him.

“True.. but this way, you’ll never forget.” He insists to me, his hands rubbing slowly up and down my back.

“As if I could ever forget being here.. like this.. with you.” I tell him, resting my chin against his shoulder. He pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him. I squeak and pull my skirt down, worried I’m flashing the groups of people who are walking around us.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that since I left Minnesota.” He confesses to me softly. “Today, when I saw you standing there in the airport, I knew I had to tell you before you left. You’re my missing piece, Sam. The one I’ve been waiting for.” I look down into his perfect, sweet face and feel myself falling for him all over again. It’s like crashing through the floor, going deeper and deeper into a new, uncharted level of love.

“I knew I loved you weeks ago, even before you left Minnesota. I don’t know how, but it only took 6 weeks to love you, Kev.” I place my lips against his and his tongue slides into my mouth like it belongs there.

“It’s because this is the real thing.” He assures me.

“It is.” I confirm to him as I weave my fingers through his hair. Kevin’s eyes search mine once more as I grit my teeth together against another yawn.

“Let’s go home.” He whispers to me, encouraging me to stand and lacing our hands together again.

The walk to his apartment is quiet and content. Knowing Kevin loves me makes my heart ache a little less about leaving in a few weeks. I feel a security wrap around me that I didn’t have when I left the United States yesterday evening.

Maybe, with the confession of his love coming home with me, he won’t feel so far away.

[kindcolors]

Hiiii I’m back on my Steve/Abby meet cute bullshit

The Night Vale fair was a humble event thrown in Mission Grove Park annually, one that brought the community together in a way that a weekly crisis just couldn’t beat. Small pop-up amusement rides were fitted where they’d go, accompanied by game booths and stands to help promote and show off local business. Janice had been grinning since they entered the park, leaving her mother and uncle trailing behind her as she explored every attraction set up.

“I wanna do that!” Janice beamed, pointing towards the carousel that she’d been on three times at that point, but no one could turn her down.

“I’ll watch her,” Cecil whispered to Abby, “If you go find us something to eat— we’ll meet back up with you, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Abby asked as she helped Janice into the ride, where Janice settled into the same scorpion-shaped seat she’d called for the first few times.

“If I don’t get some cheap fried food soon, I think I’ll faint. Go, quickly.”

Abby rolled her eyes and scoffed, waving Janice off with the promise of lunch soon. Janice gave a big wave back and Abby set off.

The food stalls were in the same unofficial section as the company stands; Abby looked them over loosely as she walked by. She recognized Louie Blasko’s stand, seemingly missing its owner and smelling faintly of gasoline, and the Night Owl Records stand that was currently tended to by a very bored looking teen. Abby dragged her feet as she passed by what she swore were the most appealing looking scones she’d ever seen; she couldn’t help but pause. Behind the stand was a man in a lawn folding chair, who took occasional long glances to his lap before popping his head up to take cautionary looks around. On one of these looks, he stopped Abby, and she heard a faint thump as he kicked something under the stand.

“Howdy!” He greeted, folding his hands onto the counter and smiling. It creased the corner of his mouth, very apparent laugh lines shining. His faintly wrinkled button-up didn’t exactly match the spider-wolves baseball cap on his head, but Abby thought they looked nice together.

“I’m very curious what scones have to do with banking,” Abby said quietly, leaning against the table on one hand.

The man laughed. “Ah, well, the ol’ boss-man insisted that everyone would have something that kept people coming to their booths, and we didn’t have much of anything to grab anyone’s attention, so I mentioned that— and, I don’t mean to brag, sorry if it seems like I am!— but I have to give myself credit for making a mean scone! And, well, it was either that or Susan Willman’s muffins, and poor Susan is out with a cold today, and I’m wishing her a speedy recovery, but obviously that’s no condition to cook in so… scones! Um… feel free to dig in!”

Abby blinked and smiled slightly, taking his offer wordlessly as she took a scone from the tray. It seemed she was the only one willing to try one, as she left his baker's dozen down one. She took a bite, and smiled even wider.

“That’s really good!”

“You think so?” He shifted in his seat, leaning closer. “I got all fancy with the recipe, I really wanted those ones to be special since they were for something so big and fun and important!”

Abby finished hers quickly, wiping her mouth loosely with a sleeve before the man extended a napkin to her.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

“Abby Palmer.”

“Palmer— like the radio Palmer?”

“Oh god,” Abby hummed, “does Cecil overtake my reputation?”

“No, no not at all!” He threw his hands up. “Honest, I just thought it was a funny coincidence that you two had the same last name! Small world, right?”

“Oh! Don’t worry,” Abby reached out and let her hand hover near his as they both laid their hands back on the table. “It's not really a coincidence that we have the last name. He’s my brother. Moving on,” Abby laughed, sliding a hair behind her ear. “What would your name be?”

“Steve Carlsberg.”

“Ah,” she nodded. She looked at the nearly full tray of scones, and her eyes drifted to finally notice how empty the area around the bank’s booth was.

“… Does my reputation precede me?” He laughed weakly.

“No,” she said, “I think all of that is meaningless anyways. Why waste time assuming things you’ll never know unless you actually talk to someone? It all seems so… It’s kind of…”

“It’s kinda weird to assume stuff about someone you’ve never met?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. They both hummed, and let out a breath, and Abby gasped. “Oh! I forgot, I have to run— I’m on lunch duty,” she laughed again. “Cecil and Janice must be fuming right now.”

“Janice?”

“My daughter?” Abby pushed her bag back up her shoulder and eyed him.

“Oh! Well,” Steve pushed the scone tray closer to her. “Bring ‘em both one! It might hold ‘em over.” He laughed, and they both wrapped one scone each into a napkin.

“Before I forget,” Abby said, pulling a pen from her bag and taking another napkin. “Here.”

She scribbled a number onto the brown paper, folding it and laying it under the corner of the baking tin. “You have to tell me how you get the salt so balanced— I can’t bake to save my life.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad!” He said, face reddening from what he’d swear was the heat as he handed her a scone, ready for delivery.

“You put too much trust in my baking skills.” She called out, as she stepped towards the food vendors.

“I guess you’ll have to prove me wrong, then!” He called back out, grinning and rising slightly before he slid back into his chair, picking a scone off the tray and giving a soft sigh.

[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, here are the titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for the first 9 montages of Sarah's adventure as she mistakes the pink girly world for the Wild West:

Montage 1: "A Pink Prairie Morning"

Action: Sarah wakes up in a pink, frilly bedroom, looking confused.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Rubbing her eyes) "Where am I? This ain't my room!"

Montage 2: "Yeehaw Couture"

Action: Sarah enters a clothing store filled with pink dresses and accessories.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Excitedly) "Well, I reckon it's time for a Wild West makeover!" (She tries on a frilly pink dress)

Montage 3: "Girly Gun Showdown"

Action: Sarah and her friend pretend to have a duel with hair curlers and makeup brushes.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Pointing her hair curler) "Draw, partner! Let's see who's the fastest in this town!" Friend: (Laughing) "You're on, Sheriff Sarah!"

Montage 4: "Saloon or Salon?"

Action: Sarah walks into a beauty salon, thinking it's a Wild West saloon.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Confused) "I'll take a sarsaparilla… or maybe a milkshake?" Salon Worker: (Giggling) "How about a strawberry smoothie, darling?"

Montage 5: "Pink Lasso Practice"

Action: Sarah attempts to lasso a butterfly with a pink ribbon.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Swinging the ribbon) "I'll catch that varmint!" (She misses the butterfly, and it flutters away)

Montage 6: "Sheriff in Pink"

Action: Sarah dons a pink cowboy hat and tries to maintain order in the "town."

Dialogue: Sarah: (Wearing the hat proudly) "Sheriff Sarah is here to keep the peace!" (She issues "tickets" for too much glitter use)

Montage 7: "Girly Hoedown"

Action: Sarah joins a dance party, confusing line dancing for a Wild West hoedown.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Dancing enthusiastically) "Y'all ready to do-si-do?" Friends: (Laughing) "This is some wild hoedown, Sheriff!"

Montage 8: "Wild West Tea Time"

Action: Sarah hosts a tea party with pink cupcakes, thinking it's a Western feast.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Pouring tea) "Care for some sarsaparilla, folks?" Friends: (Sipping tea) "This sarsaparilla tastes a lot like chamomile…"

Montage 9: "Riding a Pink Pony"

Action: Sarah takes a "horseback ride" on a pink carousel pony.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Clutching the pony's reins) "Giddy up, Buttercup!" (She goes around in circles, giggling)

I hope you enjoy this transcript of Sarah's adventures so far! If you'd like to see more or have any other requests, feel free to ask.

Certainly, here are the titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for montages 10-19 of Sarah's adventure as she mistakes the pink girly world for the Wild West:

Montage 10: "The Pink Bandit"

Action: Sarah imagines herself as a Wild West outlaw but is stealing lipstick instead of loot.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Wearing a makeshift bandit mask) "Nobody can stop the Pink Bandit!" (She sneaks lip gloss into her bag)

Montage 11: "Pink Cactus Encounter"

Action: Sarah believes a cactus is a dangerous outlaw hiding in the desert.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Cautiously) "That cactus looks mighty suspicious." (She tip-toes past the harmless plant)

Montage 12: "Girly Gold Rush"

Action: Sarah digs for "pink gold" in a sandbox, thinking it's a gold rush.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Digging with a pink shovel) "I'll strike it rich in this here pink mine!" (Friends watch, amused)

Montage 13: "Rodeo with a Twist"

Action: She participates in a rodeo, riding a mechanical bull painted pink.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Clutching the "bull") "Hold on tight, cowpokes! It's gonna be a wild ride!" (She gets bucked off into a pile of pink pillows)

Montage 14: "Pink Desert Mirage"

Action: Sarah chases a mirage of pink cupcakes in the sandy "desert."

Dialogue: Sarah: (Panting) "Those cupcakes can't escape me!" (She finally realizes they're not real)

Montage 15: "Saloon or Sandcastle?"

Action: She mistakes a sandcastle contest for a Wild West showdown.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Entering the "saloon") "I challenge y'all to a showdown!" (Sandcastle builders exchange puzzled glances)

Montage 16: "Girly Cattle Drive"

Action: Sarah tries to "herd" pink plush animals instead of cattle.

Dialogue: Sarah: (With a toy sheriff's badge) "We gotta round up them plushies!" (Friends laugh as they move the toys)

Montage 17: "Girly Chuckwagon Cook-off"

Action: She competes in a cooking competition with pink-themed dishes.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Proudly presenting a pink dish) "My cotton candy chili is a real winner!" (Judges taste the sweet and spicy concoction)

Montage 18: "Riding the Pink Rails"

Action: Sarah "rides" a pink train around the girly town, imagining it's a locomotive.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Sitting in a toy train) "All aboard the Pink Express!" (She toots an imaginary train whistle)

Montage 19: "The Pink Sheriff Returns"

Action: She attempts to solve a "mystery" involving missing hair accessories.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Examining hairpins) "There's a new case in town, folks! The Mystery of the Vanishing Hairpins!" (Friends play along, pretending to be suspects)

I hope you enjoy this next set of montages and their dialogue transcripts! If you'd like to continue the story or have any other requests, feel free to ask.

Certainly, here are the titles, actions, and dialogue transcripts for montages 20-30 of Sarah's adventure as she mistakes the pink girly world for the Wild West:

Montage 20: "Wild West Pillow Fight"

Action: Sarah has a pillow fight with friends, imagining it's a saloon brawl.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Swinging a pillow) "This town ain't big enough for the both of us!" (Friends join in the playful brawl)

Montage 21: "Pink Tumbleweed Trouble"

Action: Sarah chases after a tumbleweed made of pink feathers.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Running after the "tumbleweed") "It's the legendary Pink Tumbleweed!" (Friends laugh as it rolls away)

Montage 22: "Dueling Hair Dryers"

Action: She engages in a hairdryer duel, believing it's a Wild West showdown.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Pointing her hairdryer like a gun) "Draw, partner! This town ain't big enough for both our hairdos!" (Friend joins the duel with their hairdryer)

Montage 23: "Pink Can-Can Show"

Action: Sarah joins a can-can dance performance, adding a girly twist.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Kicking her legs high) "Yeehaw, ladies! Let's do the Pink Can-Can!" (Friends dance in frilly dresses)

Montage 24: "The Pink Sunset"

Action: She watches the sunset, thinking it's a magnificent Western vista.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Admiring the horizon) "That there's the prettiest pink sunset I ever did see." (Friends join her, enjoying the view)

Montage 25: "Pretend Pink Poker"

Action: Sarah plays a game of cards with pink playing cards, pretending it's poker.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Holding up cards) "I've got a royal flush of roses!" (Friends place their bets with toy poker chips)

Montage 26: "Wild West Pillow Fight"

Action: She has a pillow fight with friends, imagining it's a saloon brawl.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Swinging a pillow) "This town ain't big enough for the both of us!" (Friends join in the playful brawl)

Montage 27: "Pink Firework Extravaganza"

Action: Sarah celebrates with a fireworks display, thinking it's a Western celebration.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Oohing and aahing) "Look at them pink fireworks light up the sky!" (Friends cheer and watch the colorful explosions)

Montage 28: "Pink Starry Night"

Action: She gazes at the stars, mistaking them for constellations of makeup items.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Pointing at stars) "That one's the Lipstick Constellation, and there's the Mascara Nebula!" (Friends giggle at her imagination)

Montage 29: "The Pink Rodeo Queen"

Action: Sarah is crowned "Rodeo Queen" of the girly town in a glittering ceremony.

Dialogue: Announcer: (Proudly) "Ladies and gentlemen, your Rodeo Queen, Sarah!" (Sarah waves from a pink, flower-covered float)

Montage 30: "Return to Girly Reality"

Action: Sarah finally realizes she's in a pink girly world but has had a wild adventure.

Dialogue: Sarah: (Looking around) "Well, I reckon this ain't the Wild West after all!" (Friends laugh, reminiscing about their playful adventures)

I hope you've enjoyed Sarah's whimsical journey through these montages! If you have any more requests or questions, feel free to ask.

[chuacamille26-blog]

Day 192

23rd December, 2022 3:53PM

🎵Merry Christmas - Ed Sheeran & Elton John I'm finally back again tumblr world. I just had my well deserved vacation in the Philippines almost 2 weeks ago. Although, it was only a short vacation. I did everything I could to enjoy it. Well, I had to. Since I wasn't able to go back for the past 3 years because of the pandemic and I'll be only able to go back to my home country again next year and I'm not sure when next year yet. So... my entry today will be kinda long since I'll be sharing everything what happened during my Day 1 in the Philippines. I'll be doing part by part kasi alam ko ng magiging sobrang haba nito.

& right, before anything else, Jin's in military camp now. I miss seeing them all together already! :( 5th December, 2022

Woke up from my 1 hr sleep. The night before my flight, I had to double check everything. From my clothes, my brother's things to my passport and documents. My brother booked an uber driver for me and he arrived at 6am to pick me up to bring me to the airport. Imagine going to bed at 2am then a mosquito was biting you and would fly near your ears and won't let you sleep. I hid under my blanket but I could still hear the mosquito flying near my ear. I had to kill it with the lights off lol. I think I successfully killed it though. I fell asleep around 4am and mom woke me up at 5am. I finished showering at 5:30am then the uber driver texted me to inform me that he's already down our building at around 5:50am. We had to rush down so he wouldn't have to wait that long.

Arrived airport around 6:30am and we still have to double check where the check in counter. The check in counter was at the other end of the airport then the entrance after checking in was at the other end too! There was also quite a long line that I have to queue since it was almost Christmas and there were a lot of travelers going back to the Philippines to spend Christmas with their families too.

Mom went with me to the airport though. I mean of course, why not? It was first time travelling alone. Imagine my anxiety once I entered the immigration area alone. The airport here in Hong Kong's huge and I was kinda panicking already since I might get lost. Thankfully, I didn't. lol

Here I finally found my gate number. I still had more than an hour to wait til the boarding time. Fun fact, it was my first time arriving at the gate EARLY. Since, in the past when I was still traveling with my brother and Chris.. We usually arrive the boarding gate when there was already a LAST CALL written on the board. 😂 and we always had to jog or run to our way to the boarding gate since it was also at the other end of the airport! Seriously... why does it always at the other end? 🤦‍♀️

While waiting, I texted my brother to inform him that I'm already waiting to board so he could get ready to pick me up at the airport in Manila. Nauna naman sya sakin at 1 month bakasyon nya sa Pilipinas.

Finally papasok na toh ng eroplano.

my anxietyyyy...

Then after this shot, I slowly fell asleep. Nakatulog ako kasi nga 1 hour lang yung tulog ko at almost 2 hours naman yung byahe from HK to Manila. At this point, automatic ng nawala sa isip yung about work. As in, wala akong naramdaman na stress na. Pure joy lang. BTW, kahit nakatulog ako sa flight, hindi talaga yung kalaliman ng tulog kasi hindi naman comfortable yung upuan para lumalim tulog ko.

At sakto nung nagising ako, eto na yung nakita ko. The very first glimpse of the Philippines! Yung saya ko nyan sobrang hindi ko ma-explain.

Tapos nag-announce na ang pilot na prepare for descend na since malapit na nga talaga.

nung nakita ko toh.. ang nasabi ko na lang talaga na... I AM HOME. IM FINALLY HOME.

eto na, eto na, eto na. pa-landing na. ang saya saya!

Finally, landed!

The waiting game begins here. But before pa toh, nung naglalakad ako papuntang immigration. Hindi naman ako nagmamadali pero nauna pa rin ako sa carousel. Tapos yun, I started texting my relatives sa group chat namin na IM HOME. tapos nagreply si auntie na "prank ba yan?" hahaha kasi walang nakakaalam na uuwi ako. Kami lang nila mama, oti, Chris ang nakakaalam. Then tinawagan ni auntie si oti. si oti hindi ko pala nainform na sasabihin ko na sa group chat. lol

tapos dito, mga 30 mins pa ako naghintay ng maleta dyan. nakakaloka.

After 30 mins, nandito na maleta ko. yay!!! at the same time, nag-text na din sakin si oti na nasa carpark na sya.

eto na yung sundo ko.

first stop is Binondo para ipick up si Uncle na sasama samin sa sementeryo to visit angkong, gwakong, gwama and Joy.

yun naman kasi talaga yung plan ko talaga. first day pa lang is madaanan na at makadalaw sa kanila since 3 years hindi nakauwi at nangako ako na everytime na makakauwi ako, dadalawin ko sila.

after dumalaw at ihatid pabalik sa Binondo si Uncle. Namasyal na din muna kami sa Lucky China Town. Tapos first meal of the day... BREAKFAST/LUNCH/DINNER na namin toh. Eto yung, nasa manila ka na pero chinese food pa rin kakainin mo. hahaha. ok lang naman kasi namiss ko yung MAHKI.

BTW, nung susunduin pa lang namin si Uncle sa Binondo, we passed by din sa old school namin located in Jose Abad Santos. Sobrang daming memories talaga. Sobrang namiss ko yung old times.

That's where we studied. iniba na yung name. pero for everyone who studied there and still studying there... it's still called KIAO TIONG.

after namin maglibot sa Lucky China Town, we were supposed to head to MOA and IKEA na sana. Pero tumawag si Uncle Wil kay Uncle na papuntahin daw muna kami sa bahay nila which is just in front of Lucky China Town. So, we went there and stayed for a bit. Since naiinitan kami ni oti sa bahay nila and wala naman kaming ginagawa masyado... Ininsist na namin na pupunta na kami sa MOA at IKEA.

Next stop after Binondo, IKEA. kahit na may IKEA dito sa Hong Kong. I still wanted to go sa IKEA ng Manila since yun na ang biggest IKEA in the world. True naman. ang laki nga. Pero there's nothing much to see kasi same lang din naman yung mga products sa IKEA dito sa Hong Kong of course. Wala lang, gusto ko lang pumunta. Since may exit naman din sa IKEA na ang labas mo is a part of MOA tapos tagos tagos na lang din dun. Sobrang napagod kami ni oti kakalakad. Ok lang naman maglakad pero ang init kasi and may suot pa na mask. Kaya medyo ang hirap. Sobrang uhaw. Even told mom na sobrang init at pawis na pawis na ako. Kasi syempre winter dito sa Hong Kong. super lamig nung morning ko tapos biglang init na sa gabi lol.

Sa sobrang uhaw at hindi na namin talaga matiis. Plus, was kinda craving for milk tea din kasi. tapos Oti wanted to drink Thai Milk Tea for how long na. So we did everything we could just to look for their shop in MOA since may nasalubong din kami na girl na umiinom nyan. lol. after drinking, we continued walking around MOA. and guess what I found.

TA-DA! IN THE SOOP in Mall of Asia, MANILA!!! Grabe yung saya ko dyan! my wallet is prepared literall! Kahit na hindi ko inexpect na meron pa sila sa MOA. Plus I know na pricey talaga yung benta. My brother was trying to stop me from entering na. Pero wala syang nagawa. I ended up buying a mug.

Dhai, ang ingat ko talaga hawakan pati supot. Bawal malukot hahaha

after MOA, umuwi na kami. I told my brother na umuwi na kami sa condo kasi I wanted to see it personally na din kung ok ba yung outcome ng designs and everything. Tsaka sobrang pagod ko na talaga at medyo inaantok na ako. Kahit na gusto ko pa lubus-lubusin yung oras ko sa Pilipinas, I still need to think about myself din.

Day 1 end

--to be continued--

[yournameoneverypage]

When You're Ready

Reader request: Shawn Mendes x (y/n). "Shawn is on tour and invites the reader to the show so he can ask her to be his girlfriend and he sings When You're Ready, but Camila shows up and the reader is convinced that it's for C and not for her."

Word Count: ~3.7

Notes: Mostly fluff with brief moments of angst, and a smut ending.

Warnings: NSFW

~ * ~

(Y/n) stood at baggage claim at LAX, waiting for her blush-colored suitcase to roll by on the carousel. She was going to be in California for almost a week. Why? Well, her best friend was Shawn Mendes and he was currently on tour. He was missing her something fierce, he had said, and he wanted her to come see him.

Shawn had two sold out shows, consecutive nights, at the Staples Center followed by a show in San Francisco three days later, so why not make a week of it? His idea, but the second he mentioned it she was on board. She’d figure it out, find a way to make it work.

Any time she got to spend with him was both treasured and torturous. But she would go through the pain and heartache over and over again if it meant nearly a week with her most favorite person.

See, the thing was, (y/n) had been in love with Shawn for nearly as long as she had known him.

~ * ~

After retrieving her bag, (y/n) went in search of her driver. Shawn had said he or she would be holding a sign with her name on it. Shawn had a few interviews to do that morning, so (y/n) would be taken to his hotel to wait for him to finish, and then they’d have the entire afternoon and evening to spend together.

Aside from the aforementioned interviews, this was a day off for Shawn and he wanted to make the most of it because the Staples Center shows were the following two nights, and there wouldn’t be much down time during the days with soundchecks, meet and greets, and Q&As before showtime. Fortunately they would have more time to spend together between LA and San Francisco.

(Y/n) located her driver, who smiled brightly and introduced himself as John. He took her bag and engaged her in friendly chatter as he led her toward an idling Range Rover.

Who left a vehicle like this idling curbside at the airport?

John opened the rear passenger door for her with a knowing grin. (Y/n) started to climb in before she even noticed him.

“Shawn!” She almost tipped over into his lap reaching across the seat to hug him.

“Surprise, babe!” he chuckled into her ear.

“You’re here!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t collect you myself, but as much as I love my fans, I didn’t want to get stuck here for a half an hour taking selfies.”

“I thought you were in interviews all morning.”

“I was. I was hoping to come with John to pick you up, but I honestly didn’t know how long all the interviews were going to take so I didn’t want you to be disappointed if I said I would be here but then wasn’t.”

He was always so thoughtful; it was one of the many, many things (y/n) loved about him. She linked her hand with his between them, squeezed, and smiled. “I missed you.”

With a grin, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Missed you, too. So much. I’m so happy you’re here,” he breathed.

~ * ~

The day flew by way too quickly.

Once Shawn got (y/n) checked in and settled at the hotel, in a room that adjoined his, they grabbed lunch at one of Shawn’s favorite places.

It was (y/n)’s first ever visit to Los Angeles. Shawn had asked her if there were any specific things that were on her must do/see list, and he’d take care of everything.

They visited the Griffith Observatory, and strolled down the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

(Y/n) thought, and Shawn agreed, that too much attention might be drawn to them if he was spotted along Venice Beach or the Santa Monica Pier, as he had already been approached a few times during their activities earlier in the day. (Y/n) had been understanding and supportive of him spending a few minutes chatting with his fans and taking photos. She actually took a few of the photos herself.

Another day, he promised.

Instead, they spent a good part of the late afternoon and early evening at the Getty Center Museum.

They had dinner in Little Tokyo, followed by drinks at a tiki bar. Only one for (y/n) because she was a lightweight and tiki drinks were known to be quite strong. Shawn stopped after two, as he had a full day the next day and didn’t want to risk waking up with a hangover.

Back at the hotel, freshly showered, in pajamas, and in Shawn’s room, stretched out on his king-sized bed, Shawn and (y/n) ordered something from room service to share.

Even though they had chosen a movie to watch, they were too busy talking and laughing to pay much attention to the television.

~ * ~

Staples Center, Day One, had (y/n) immersed in the thick of things with Shawn, his band, and his crew. She knew only a few of them and was introduced to many more. Her laminated pass was the same as what everyone else had, giving her access to anything and anywhere she wished.

She soaked up as much as possible.

Shawn didn’t always attend soundcheck with his band, but for (y/n) he definitely wanted to be there so she could fully experience it. She stayed backstage, chatting with Shawn’s people while he did his meet and greet photos. She sat in on his Q&A session but stayed unobtrusively toward the back of the room. She could talk to him whenever she wanted; this was his fans’ time with him.

The concert was unbelievable, as (y/n) knew it would be. Shawn always left his heart and gratitude on stage.

That night they were in (y/n)’s room, she on one of the doubles, Shawn in the other. He was still a little high on adrenaline, asking her how she enjoyed the day, and especially how she enjoyed the show.

She knew it wouldn’t be long before he completely crashed out. When he did, he was still in her room.

~ * ~

Staples Center, Day Two, was much the same, although they started the day with Shawn dragging (y/n) to the gym to work out with him. They also skipped soundcheck to get lost together in the backstage corridors.

The closer it came to showtime, the more anxious Shawn seemed to get. He had a different vibe about him than he had the night before.

While eating dinner, (y/n) asked him if everything was alright. He assured her everything was amazing; it just felt like something big was about to happen and he hoped it would turn out to be a good kind of big.

~ * ~

Again, the show was absolutely incredible, although after the song he normally ended with, before acknowledging his band and going into the encore, he tried to quiet the deafening audience with a finger pressed against his lips.

Of course, it was futile. He just laughed, somewhat nervously, and said, “This song is for someone very special to me. Someone who is here tonight. I want her to know how I feel about her...”

That seemed to get everyone’s attention.

Shawn found (y/n) in the audience, met her eyes, and smiled adoringly.

Maybe I had too many drinks But that's just what I needed I hope that you don't think that what I'm saying sounds conceited When I look across the room, and you're staring right back at me Like somebody told a joke and we're the only ones laughin'

(Y/n)’s heart started thumping. He couldn’t be singing this for her, could he...? He had never expressed any interest in her as more than a friend. Had he?

Don't know why I tried 'Cause ain't nobody like you Familiar disappointment every single time I do Every single night my arms are not around you My mind's still wrapped around you

A couple of girls beside (y/n) bent their heads together and pointed to something or someone standing to the side of the stage. Shawn seemed to notice, as she had, and looked toward the side stage.

She followed his line of vision to see Camila standing there, beaming brightly. She put her fingertips to her lips and blew him a big kiss.

(Y/n) didn’t notice, over the dizzying blood rush in her head, that Shawn seemed to stumble a little through the chorus.

Baby, tell me when you're ready I'm waitin' Baby, any time you're ready I'm waitin'

Even ten years from now If you haven't found somebody I promise, I'll be around Tell me when you're ready I'm waitin'

He glanced once more toward Camila, but just as quickly his smile settled again in (y/n)’s direction. His voice steadied and grew stronger.

What if my dad is right When he says that you're the one No, I can't even argue I won't even fight him on it Call you when it's late And I know that you're in bed 'Cause I'm three hours back Seems like you're always six ahead

(Y/n) smiled back, although it seemed more reflexive than genuine, as her heart was currently crumbling to pieces. She tried her hardest to be happy for her best friend and the woman he was currently confessing his feelings for, on stage, in front of everyone.

Don't know why I tried 'Cause ain't nobody like you Familiar disappointment every single time I do Every single night my arms are not around you My mind's still wrapped around you

Baby, tell me when you're ready I'm waitin' Baby, any time you're ready I'm waitin'

Even ten years from now If you haven't found somebody I promise, I'll be around Tell me when you're ready I'm waitin', yeah

And if I have to, I'll wait forever Say the word and I'll change my plans Yeah, you know that we fit together I know your heart like the back of my hand...

Before the song ended, overwhelmed, unable to continue her façade, (y/n) had slipped from the crowd and backstage.

She wasn’t sure where to go once she was backstage. She was fighting back tears, so her vision was blurry, but she didn’t want to stop to ask anyone how to get out of the venue because they might ask why she was crying and then it would all turn into one big mess.

A voice from behind her asked, “You’re Shawn’s friend, right? Are you looking for his dressing room?” Was she? Would she be able to face him after his encore and bows?

“Yes, please,” she found herself answering.

“End of the corridor, turn right, first door on the left.”

(Y/n) nodded her thanks and began to follow the directions she was given. She wasn’t sure if it would be the first or last place anyone would be looking for her.

~ * ~

Shawn burst into his dressing room, out of breath from the end of his show and running around looking for (y/n). Incredibly relieved to see her, he gasped, “Are you okay? What happened?? You just disappeared!”

“I’m sorry. I just needed a few minutes.”

“In the middle of the most important song of the night?”

Her voice cracked. “I said I was sorry.” And she was. She should have stayed till the end. “I was caught off guard.”

“Oh no, babe. Shit! I’m sorry, (y/n). I overwhelmed you, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have made it so public. It should have been a private conversation. Forgive me?” he whispered.

“Of course. You’re my best friend and I’m happy for you,” she smiled softly, truly. And she was. His happiness meant more to her than anything else. It was just going to take some time to refortify her heart. “I wish you and Camila the best.”

“Camila?” Little wrinkles formed between his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” she puffed.

Suddenly Shawn started laughing.

(Y/n) placed her hands in the center of his chest and pushed him away, unamused.

He caught her wrists and pulled her to him. “I wasn’t singing that song for her.” He placed her hands over his heart and covered them with his own. “I was singing it for you, my beautiful, clueless, wonderful, precious love.”

“What?” she exhaled.

“I finished singing and looked for your eyes, only to find you gone.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. Not Camila. You, (y/n). In front of the entire Staples Center audience. Why did you think I wanted Camila?”

“You kept looking at her side stage.”

“I glanced at her twice,” he contended, lightheartedly. “I was surprised. I didn’t expect her to be here tonight. It’s true that she recently told me she has deeper feelings for me-”

“And you have always had feelings for her.”

“I had feelings for her. Past tense. Before I met you. Are you really arguing with me about how I feel about you?” he smirked.

“But you didn’t sing that song last night, when Camila wasn’t here.”

“You are!” he laughed again.

“Stop laughing!” she exclaimed, unable to stop herself from giggling, her heart blooming with hope. She then whispered, “Did you really mean it?”

“Oh, darling...

“If I had professed my feelings last night and you had turned me down, I don’t think I would have been able to get through tonight. Telling you tonight, when there were three days before San Francisco, would have either given us time to disappear together for a few days, or would have given me time to sort myself out if you didn’t want me the way I want you.

“Please tell me you want me.”

(Y/n) wanted to scream, yes, I want you!, but instead she teased, trying to keep a straight face, “I don’t know. Any boyfriend of mine has to be a good kisser. Are you a good kisser?”

“I am a fantastic kisser,” he grinned. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and slid his hand to the nape of her neck.

“Prove it.”

His other hand circled her waist, fell against the small of her back. He leaned in, watched her eyelids flutter, then close, and gently guided her lips to his.

She had imagined this moment for so long but it was much more than she had ever expected. Thousands of thoughts were forced away to make room for one single idea. How could one kiss cause the world to fall away around her?

“Shawn,” she said, breathless, easing away.

“Still proving it,” he murmured. He softly licked at the seam of her lips, and when she responded he deepened their kiss. Her heart was pounding, and she was warm from head to toe. She felt his tongue meet hers and her entire body began to hum.

Their knees were weak when their lips separated.

Shawn touched his nose to hers. “Well...?”

“I will be more than happy to kiss you all night long, but only after you take a shower,” she giggled.

~ * ~

(Y/n) knocked on the adjoining door. She didn’t wait for a response before letting herself through.

Shawn was leaning against the dresser, partly sitting on it, phone to his ear, wearing nothing but baggy, cotton pajama pants. His chest and feet were bare. By his side of the conversation, (y/n) grasped that they were talking about the plan for the days leading up to San Francisco.

He held his hand out to her in invitation. His legs fell open and she automatically moved into the V they made. He ended his call, set his cell aside, and placed his large hands on her hips.

“So, about what you said... Something about kissing me all night long?”

She moved even closer to him. One of her hands curled around the back of his neck, the other tangled in his still damp curls. The roughened pads of his thumbs caressed the bare, soft skin just above the waistband of her pajama shorts.

She kissed him, tenderly at first, and then with growing intensity. He gently bit her top lip, sucked it, her teeth tugged on his lower lip. His kiss was determined and sent her head spinning. She began to tremble as she clung to him.

Shawn’s lips slowed and softened; he eased away and breathed, “I’ve already waited so long; we can take our time.” He slid his hands further up (y/n)’s sides, under her shirt. “We don’t have to rush into anything. I can wait for you.” She felt his thumbs brush either side of her breasts.

She started trailing tiny kisses from his chin up along his jawline before touching the tip of her tongue to the lobe of his ear. “I don’t want to wait,” she purred.

“Oh, thank God,” he groaned before again pressing hungry lips to hers.

She responded without hesitation.

Her hands trailed down his chest and to his sides, her fingers playing over the ripples of his stomach. She brushed her knuckles against the start of his arousal and his breath hitched, cupped him through thin cotton.

He arched his pelvis against the heat of her palm and she heard a low, rumbling moan from the back of his throat. He tangled a hand in her hair, tugged gently. He bit down on the skin of her clavicle, sucked, soothed it with his tongue.

She pulled away from his mouth. “Shawn!” she scolded, playfully, chuckled, “You’re going to leave a mark!”

“Good. Show everyone you’re mine. Mark you everywhere. But this,” he smirked, kissing the already purpling bloom, “will be the only one people can see.”

“Fuck,” she sighed. His claim on her made a shiver trickle up her spine.

“If you insist,” he grinned, smugly.

Feeling bold and sexy, she hooked a fingertip in the waistband of his pajama bottoms and starting walking backward. He stood to his full height and followed.

(Y/n) felt the backs of her legs hit the mattress. With fluid movement, she slid her shorts down, stepped out of them, and pulled her camisole up and over her head. She stood before him in small lace panties, breasts bare, nipples tight.

The way he looked upon her made her blood thrum, her body flush. He licked his lips, bit softly on the fuller, lower one.

His hand reached out and cupped one of her breasts. He gently tugged at her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Instinctively, her hand slipped between her legs, at her core, and she rubbed herself through the damp lace. His nostrils flared when he caught the scent of her arousal. He whimpered, her name falling like a prayer from his lips.

“I wanna see you,” (y/n) purred.

Obeying, oh so eagerly, Shawn pushed his pants down, over his ass, off, his cock bouncing free, filling, curling up toward his stomach right before her eyes. He wrapped thumb and forefinger around the base, his other fingers pressed flush against his scrotum.

“Been thinking about me like this?” he hummed.

Yes. God, yes. Maybe one day she would tell him just how much. It was her turn to lick her lips and bite the lower one.

They fell together onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and with a crash of lips. When they separated to catch their breath, (y/n) reached over to turn off the bedside lamp.

“Nuh-uh, Sugar,” Shawn rasped. “Waited too long for this.” Voice rough with desire he sang softly, “I wanna love you with the lights on, keep you up all night long... Darling, I wanna see every inch of you, I get lost in the way you move...”

She might have giggled if her panties weren’t being drawn down over her hips, if calloused fingertips hadn’t begun to dance along soft, hot, electrified skin, lips and tongue following.

He took a dusky, peaked nipple into his mouth. Her back arched, hands grasping at the sheets at her sides, and moaned softly. He sucked her other nipple into his mouth, tasting, humming.

“Shawn,” she whined, moving a hand to tangle it in his dark curls, tugging him away from her breasts.

“Tell me what you want, Love.”

“I want you. I need you,” she pleaded.

“What was that?”

“Fuck me, Shawn.”

“Mm... Since you asked so sweetly,” he smirked, stroking his cock. He rolled on a condom and moved to rest between her legs.

She reached between them, taking him in her hand, and he shuddered. She wanted to feel the moment he slid into her. He let her guide him. Their eyes met and held, bodies drew together, foreheads touched. She groaned with deep satisfaction into his mouth as she adjusted to his girth and length.

He wheezed, stilled as he bottomed out. She was so tight around him that if he began to move in that moment it would be over too soon.

“You okay there, Mendes?” she purred and imperceptibly tightened her legs around his waist.

“Oh God.” That tiny shift was almost too much. “You feel so good. Too good,” he mumbled. “I need a minute.” His arms on either side of her, holding his weight above her, he buried his lips in the crook of her neck, centered on the scent of her skin as he salvaged control.

One hand again tangled in in his hair, the other stroked the skin of his upper back.

“Okayokay,” he mumbled, and he began to rock into her, slow... rhythmic... deep.

She gasped when the pebbled nubs of her breasts brushed against his taut nipples. Her whimpers and groans mingled with his rumbles and moans. She was torn between closing her eyes and wanting to watch his face as warmth and pleasure coursed through her.

He wanted her to climax before him. Wanted to watch her fall apart beneath him.

He knew she was nearly there when she began to ripple on the bed like a wave on the sea. The tide came all the way up; he was caught in the rush. And then the knot at the root of his cock dissolved in fire and he was falling fast, craving the feel of her so close to him, unsure where he ended and she began.

( FIN )

~ * ~

@theregoesmyherojd @benito-mi-vida @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @mendesblurb

[ssadumba55]

Damsel In Distress (Velma Dinkley X Reader)

Request: how about something with Velma where the gang is investigating some odd happenings at an abandoned amusement park? everyone splits into pairs to explore and she and the reader are paired together, and they eventually end up with the culprit chasing them and reader gets really protective of her. the gang catches the guy but Velma asks why reader was being so defensive, and reader accidentally blurts out that they love her and don't know what they'd do if anything ever happened to her. thanks! :)

“Alright, everyone! Let’s split up and look for clues!”

There was a loud groan from Shaggy and Scooby as the blond male said his signature line. Most of the group didn’t mind being split up, but the two ‘fraidy cats almost always ended up with the monster chasing them. Splitting up was the worst part of investigating mysteries for them by far.

“Don’t worry guys, the sooner the monster chases you, the sooner we can get out of this creepy place,” you grinned, hands on your hips. There was nothing like a good mystery for you and ever since you’d run into the gang, they’d become more frequent. Something that Shaggy and Scooby also liked to complain about.

Shaggy crossed his arms over his chest in a show of annoyance, but didn’t say anything else as Fred began splitting the six of you into teams.

“I’ll go with Daphne to check out that creepy coaster Scooby thought he saw something earlier, Velma, (Y/n), why don’t you two head over there?” Fred jerked his thumb in the direction of the other side of the abandoned amusement park. There weren’t many structures still standing in that part of the park, but there was an antique carousel that had you intrigued.

There was something about carousels you loved, and even better, this was a mysterious carousel!

“Like perfect! Scoob and I will check out the abandoned restaurant!” Shaggy volunteered himself. If there was one thing that could get the two reluctant members moving, it was food. Even possibly stale food.

The group split up into the three teams, each wandering off in their own direction. Even though the lot of you knew this would only last for a short while, until Shaggy and Scooby were inevitably chased out of their food comas by some monster.

“You think those kids really saw a monster out here?” You asked Velma, climbing onto the abandoned carousel and moving through the horses with practiced ease. Something about the carousel made you nostalgic, even though you hadn’t really rode them much as a kid. Maybe it was the amusement park as a whole that was making you nostalgic.

You went to plenty of those as a kid.

Velma adjusted her glasses, looking up from her laptop screen with an indignant snort. “You and I both know that monsters don’t exist, (Y/n).”

You shrugged. She was right. In all the time you’d been mystery hunting together, not one had turned out to be a real monster. It was always just some weirdo in a costume. You supposed in a way that was a cruel irony, humans were after all the biggest monsters out there.

Velma went back to studying her laptop screen, she carried that thing everywhere. Even, apparently, abandoned amusement parks. You took the time while she was distracted to study her.

A lot of people would argue that she wasn’t really attractive, but you begged to differ. Sure, she didn’t dress up like Daphne or put on loads of makeup, but the brunette was charming in her own way. She was the smartest in the gang, even smarter than you. You had always loved the way her eyes lit up when she was onto something, how excited she got when she realized she’d solved the mystery.

She was usually the first one too, because she was so smart.

Yeah, okay. So maybe, just maybe you had a crush on Velma Dinkley, but what’s so bad about that? She’s attractive! Her hair is really nice and her eyes shine so bright behind those glasses and the freckles…

“(Y/n)? Are you listening to me?” Her voice shocked you back to reality. Oh god, had she been telling you important information pertaining to the case? And had you missed it because you were too busy thinking about her freckles?

You opened your mouth to respond, already trying to form an excuse for why you hadn’t been paying attention when a massive shadow formed behind Velma. It was huge, twice or maybe even three times the size of you both, with glowing red eyes and long snaking arms that were reaching….

Reaching for Velma!

There was no hesitation from you, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards you, just out of reach of the monster. The long limbs collided grasping onto nothing but thin air, as for Velma she was startled and dropped her laptop. She made a move to go back and grab it but you pulled on her hand, leading her away from the monster.

“No time! We can circle back and grab it later!” You called over your shoulder, eager to put distance between you and Velma and whatever that thing was. Admittedly, you felt foolish as you ran from the exact thing you’d all been searching for since you’d got here. You’d never taken yourself for a runner, which was a good thing because Shaggy and Scooby pretty much cornered the market for that in the small group dynamic you all shared.

Still, here you were running. It was so out of character you almost wanted to turn around and go back. But you needed to keep Velma safe, that was the top priority.

The yells and screams you and your friend were making as you ran must’ve alerted the rest of the group. Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby came running (of course, once they saw the monster, Shaggy and Scooby quickly joined you).

There was a lot of panicked screaming and yelling, at one point Velma and Shaggy ran smack into each other, causing her glasses to fall. She immediately went down for them, bringing you down with her because your hands were still intertwined. You grabbed her glasses and she gratefully put them back on, the two of you laying breathless on the ground as the sounds of Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne and Fred’s panicked voices filled the air around you.

It was unspoken that neither of you wanted to move. So you just waited until the yelling stopped, then the two of you climbed to your feet and walked over to where Fred had successfully managed to catch the monster.

“Like, what’s with the hands? You guys aren’t still scared of the monster are you? Fred’s got it all tied up!” Shaggy pointed to you and Velma’s joined fingers. Immediately, the two of you flushed and separated.

In order to distract the group from the awkwardness, Velma stepped forward and unmasked the culprit. Who turned out to be the two kids who had told you guys about the amusement park. They explained their plan to the group, but you were barely paying attention.

“We would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for your meddling!” The taller boy huffed after realizing they’d been caught and would be in a lot of trouble for this.

The gang made their way back to the Mystery Machine. Another successful mystery in the bag, Shaggy and Scooby are furthest ahead, ready to get back to their precious Scooby Snacks. Not far behind them, Daphne and Fred walk, laughing to each other about something you can’t hear.

You and Velma bring up the far rear, walking a ways behind everyone else.

“Were you doing that on purpose?” She asked as the two of you walked, finally breaking the slightly tense silence between the two of you. It had settled there after Shaggy had pointed out your hands and hadn’t left the entire time.

You were slightly confused about what she was talking about, then realized. “Oh! The hands- no. I’m sorry, I forgot we were-”

“Not that, (Y/n). You were purposely shielding me from the monster back there,” as the two of you walked by the carousel, she bent down to pick up and dust off her laptop that had been laying there forgotten the entire time, “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle my own out here, I’ve been doing this a long time, you know.”

You were taken aback by her words. Of course you knew Velma could handle her own, that was one of the reasons you liked her so much. She was the smartest person in the room and she knew it, there was nothing that could get past her. She was also the toughest, not tough in the way Fred was but she was definitely her own kind of tough.

“I know that, I didn’t mean anything by it… I-”

“You don’t take me seriously.” She put the words in your mouth and you felt your face heat up, that was not what you had meant at all!

“Velma, no, I-”

“Then why don’t you do the same thing for Daphne. Or Fred. Or Shaggy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She was sure she had you figured out, so sure she had gotten to the bottom of this mystery. You almost wanted to agree with her just so you could see that light shine in her eyes as she pulled you back to the van to tell everyone else. Then they’d all never let you live it down.

As you were thinking this through, she took it as an opportunity to keep on rambling. You were tired, it had been a long night. It’d surely be an even longer night, because you probably wouldn’t be stopping again any time soon and Shaggy and Scooby would be hyped up on Scooby Snacks-

“I LOVE YOU, VELMA DINKLEY!”

You cut her rambling off, the words echoing through the abandoned amusement park. Up ahead, Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby froze, turning back to look at the two of you.

For once, Velma was speechless, so you decided to continue.

“And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let something happen to you. I know we just met less than a year ago and I know that mystery hunting isn’t a very romantic setting, but despite that I fell in love with you. You’re right, it’s different when Shaggy is being chased by the monster, because I don’t love him. If something happened to you, my world would shatter, it would be MY fault. If something happens to Shaggy that’s just another day out mystery hunting.”

Tears were burning your eyes, threatening to fall. There she had made you say it. She had made you say it all.

You didn’t even realize your hands were balled into fists at your sides until something nudged one of them and you realized Scooby had made his way back to the two of you. He’d seen you distressed and was offering his comfort. You placed your hand on his head to let him know you were okay.

“I had no idea,” the girl dressed in orange said softly from across you.

The amusement park was dead silent. Not even the other members of the team dared to speak and risk another outburst.

After a few tense moments, where everything you’d said hung weightily in the silence, Velma reached out her hand and took the empty hand of yours that wasn’t occupied with petting Scooby. She smiled softly, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry you thought that I thought you were a damsel in distress,” you smiled awkwardly as the two of you walked to join the rest of the gang, Scooby at your side.

“I’m sorry I thought you thought I was a damsel in distress,” she smiled guiltily, “I should’ve had more faith in you.”

As the two of you approached the other three, Daphne rolled her eyes.

“Will you two just kiss and make up already, we need to get back on the road or we’re going to miss that show Fred got us tickets to!”

“We can’t miss that! Like, I hear the food there is out of this world!”

“Reah, rout rof rhis rorld!”

You felt your face heat up, looking over at Velma. She shrugged and leaned over. Inches from your face, she stopped leaning forward quickly and pecking your cheek before bolting the rest of the distance to the Mystery Machine. Fred and Daphne climbed in the front as you pushed Shaggy out of the way to follow Velma in.

“Hey! That wasn’t a real kiss! You owe me another one!”

“(Y/n), we’re dating you can have as many as you want.”

[amillionmillionvoices]

can i do the insert prompt here? i’d love to see rebecca and ted reuniting after spending a few months apart :)

[insert prompt here] — you post a prompt, and i’ll write three sentences based on that prompt, set in the same time/setting as my current project

She texts him a week before he's set to come home, demands his flight information. Tells him she'll send a car. He tries to protest, that it's unnecessary, he'll take an Uber, but Rebecca just texts back, No, followed by a purple heart that makes his chest do a funny thing. So he sends her his itinerary.

The first surprise comes when he checks in, and the woman behind the counter tells him he's been upgraded to first class. You pull some strings, boss? he texts—because they're only texting, still, even after over a month of regular communication—and Rebecca replies just as he's taking his seat: Get some sleep if you can.

He doesn't, not even in the comfy lounge chairs of first class, but he does take a beer and eats the better food and watches a few movies with bleary eyes. He feels a bit on edge—always, always, heartbroken about leaving Henry, and guilty about the frisson of excitement he has on returning to Richmond. He's missed the team, and Beard, and coaching, and Mae's, and pasties, and Rebecca.

Ted leans back against his seat and lets out a sigh. He doesn't know what to do about Rebecca. The gulf between them feels slightly less vast, with their daily texts, but he hasn't heard her voice in months, and he feels both guilty and trepidatious, uncertain whether the distance is all him, or if it's something she likes, or doesn't care about, or isn't bothered by. He doesn't know if she's had sleepless nights, too, thinking about how much he misses her. How he feels like he's been a horrible friend. How much he wants to apologize, but doesn't know how to start. How he wants to get back to where they were, wants to move forward, so badly his chest aches with it.

He dozes off thinking of Rebecca, and jolts awake to the flight attendant saying they're preparing for landing.

And then there's the bustle for his bag, the long line at customs, the occasional shouts of "Hey, wanker!" across the hall. Ted smiles and hopes he doesn't look as completely ragged as he feels as he makes his way to baggage claim.

He expects Ollie, or Rebecca's driver Charlie, or even Higgins, who picked him up last time as a favor.

Instead, he pulls his bags off the carousel, turns around, and finds Rebecca standing in front of him, dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt that does admittedly great things for her arms, and a plain baseball cap that shadows her face.

Ted blinks, almost doesn't trust his tired eyes—but she's close enough that he can smell her perfume, so familiar, and it makes his throat tighten.

"Rebecca?"

She tilts her head higher and smiles, just a bit nervous around the edges, but trying to hide it. "Welcome back," she says, and looks, for a moment, like she wants to hug him, and he wants that so badly his arms tingle. She holds his gaze, but doesn't seem to find whatever it is she's looking for, because she reaches for his bag instead and says, "Come on. There's coffee for you in the car. How was your flight?"

Ted talks just to fill the silence, tells her all kinds of unnecessary things about the flight attendant who hadn't heard of Easy Rider and the man next to him who was listening to some kind of audiobook about 401ks at a volume meant to shatter glass, and he thanks her at least three times before they even make it out of Heathrow for upgrading his flight and she just shrugs like it's nothing and says, "Being the gaffer of a premier league team has to have some perks."

"Well, gettin' a ride from the boss herself is a pretty good perk on its own," he says, and swears Rebecca flushes.

"It's not a problem," she says, staring resolutely in front of her. "It's what any friend would do."

Ted blinks, studies her face, sees the way her eyes dart to his and then away, the way her fingers flex on the steering wheel—like she's put something into the air between them she isn't certain is true. Something she doesn't quite believe, but wants to. An olive branch, he thinks, and smiles, and for the first time in months, thinks they're probably going to be just fine.

[ send me a fic ask! ]

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office. 

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance. 

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning. 

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight. 

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung." 

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them. 

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N." 

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now." 

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you." 

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung." 

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-" 

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?" 

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged. 

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear. 

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of. 

"It was me." 

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?" 

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold." 

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?" 

"Just said that." 

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that." 

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same. 

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting. 

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie." 

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could." 

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling." 

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me." 

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him? 

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to. 

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?" 

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it." 

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either." 

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?" 

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me." 

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored." 

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on. 

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him. 

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer." 

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings." 

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then." 

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?" 

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me." 

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints. 

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?" 

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail." 

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?" 

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then." 

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office. 

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?" 

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up. 

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you." 

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung.  "The chief said he'll be here by eleven." 

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement. 

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?" 

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?" 

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes." 

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated. 

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue. 

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men. 

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung. 

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright." 

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?" 

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes." 

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused. 

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago." 

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get. 

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it." 

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.  

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming. 

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?" 

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun." 

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung." 

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night." 

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew. 

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them. 

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight." 

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that." 

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything. 

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked. 

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class,  the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then. 

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal. 

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that. 

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then. 

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that? 

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom. 

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore. 

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do." 

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit." 

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?" 

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you. 

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges. 

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?" 

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change. 

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-" 

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no." 

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no." 

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please." 

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man. 

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away. 

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you. 

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks. 

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget. 

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only. 

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated. 

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people. 

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you. 

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more. 

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you." 

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him. 

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing. 

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision. 

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone. 

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good. 

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go." 

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you. 

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well." 

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me." 

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well. 

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please." 

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief. 

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now." 

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way. 

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face. 

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir." 

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?" 

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years." 

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well." 

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir." 

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out." 

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside. 

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be. 

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now." 

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly. 

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief. 

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen. 

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window.  "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop. 

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep." 

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?" 

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it." 

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning. 

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough. 

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be. 

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail." 

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it." 

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free? 

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself." 

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now." 

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did." 

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears. 

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. 

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this." 

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too." 

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn. 

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation. 

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free. 

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support. 

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please." 

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear. 

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best." 

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room. 

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?" 

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her. 

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out." 

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly. 

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?" 

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?" 

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman. 

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you." 

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours. 

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments. 

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there. 

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you. 

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder. 

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well." 

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae." 

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive. 

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day. 

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now." 

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much." 

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies. 

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?" 

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?" 

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?" 

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over." 

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead. 

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought. 

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

[legionofpotatoes]

spiders man thonks. yuge yuge spoilers. marvel movies completely fall apart without their plot so putting everything under the cut and engaging all possible tag shielding procedures.

so right off the bat it will be impossible not to compare this to spider-verse. insane bar to set given the circumstances but AIGHT. my reasoning for that is that it tries to do many of the same things, especially irt facilitating pivotal hero growth through transcending satellite alternate self POVs/granting them their own catharses in the process/creating tangible moments of literal self-reflection as a result. here it's all framed towards earning the great responsibility line in-text (I mean it's been alluded to and thematically explored already, sure, but we're all about metanarratives in the MCU and this one completely shuts down any and all attempts at pretending otherwise).

and so to get there the plot twists itself into a weird carousel of multiverse villain vignettes that ambitiously attempt to microdose us on their ideological conflicts with their respective arachnofoes, which the film then entirely undersells by artificially misconstruing these arcs in order to deliberately hand holland-pete an opportunity to "fix" their "evilry" so they don't have to die later or some nonsense. it's. a very strange premise, even beyond the completely and utterly bonkers idea that these people's "evil nature" can be "fixed" (they keep using this word, not me) with pacifier mcguffins without really engaging with their ideologies in the first place - so it becomes this massive non-starter of a setup.

(it also reeks of a particular way of thinking in modern fandoms where a character death is to be avoided at literally all dramatic, thematic, and cathartic costs - even if it means completely handwaving their interiority away to simply get them to be friendly and sit around in a kitchen. Making a point to say I do NOT think this is intentional in story optics here, but due to the plot-first-story-second writing in all these MCU movies we can't help but end up plucking these mostly okay-executed characters from important dramatic points in their past movies and completely canceling their growth just to make sure they don't uhhh die as a result of those same coherent stories. and it's just strange seeing the movie stick to that moral high horse all the way through, turning it into this weird double-edged sword where it kinda makes sense for hollandman's psychology but also comes off disingenuously flippant in a meta sense toward past films and their approaches to story. it's weird. it's just weird and I don't like it. I'm sorry but giving otto a magic chip that fixes his mind and sending him back reformed is a thousand times less profound than the original crescendo of his emotional story in SM2. It just is. and i realize this movie has its own operating plane, I understand that, yet still. I dislike it selfishly anyway. get your own ock if you're doing this)

but it's all good because we have the other two white spider dudes from cinematic history past summoned in to help hollandman fix these baddies by giving them kindness serums and/or superpower handicaps and later on they also assist our lad in not becoming a literal killer by sharing in their vaguely similar trauma to help him cope with his. it. kinda works? but the catharses here are, again, hit-or-miss meta beats predicated on past films/minimal exposition/actor experiences(?) which. I mean. Is probably the best we're fucking getting in this weird transmedia landscape I guess. spider-verse did this and more in an entirely self-contained way, giving you every morsel of information and context necessary for its dramatic payoffs.

and again you just can't help but see the clunky satellite stories and then look back at the deft ping-pong dance of spider-verse's feedback loops between miles, pete, and gwen as they learn from and grow into their kinder, softer, braver selves. there really is no room for any such open-hearted story surgery here; it is much the same type of self-indulgent and kinetic romping across a kaleidoscope of fanservice the MCU is known for, so well-targeted and in abundance here that the fulfillment arrives all the same. so does any of this even matter? do coherent thematic beats matter? what happened in that oddly shallow moment where tobey momentarily stopped tom from impaling the goblin? with the meaningful gaze and? what happens there? what changes in tom? It's all supposed to work like gangbusters and fireworks and the movie itself musically swells and tries to sell it, but dramatically? it's all just. mush, to me. tirespinning.

to wit. tom-pete makes a massive, spider-man-sized sacrifice by the end, tragic and heroic all at once, earning him the responsibility mantle in spades; but I still don't get how he arrives at that decision other than just raw plot. because given the option, the peter parker we meet in the very beginning of this movie would make the exact same choice. he fantasized of a more convenient one and it was immediately bolstered and promised by strange, but honestly? if he hadn't? I don't know. feels like we'd have saved ourselves a movie.

and not seeing this young, fallible kid go through tangible, meaningful change is perhaps my biggest gripe with watts' trilogy. he's just always a lovable fuckup with a heart of gold. never disillusioned like pete b, never fully heartbroken like gwen, never paralyzed by fear like miles. never anywhere to grow from, except maybe sideways out of plot-inflicted emotional and physical tolls. he just needs someone to catch and hold off his killing blow long enough for him to collect himself and go back to being perfect.

assorted bulletpoints that don't fit in my semiotic ramble:

I kinda love how Ned is always this slinky toy of a character that conforms to whatever the story needs him to be. genuinely enamored with jacob's performance

opposite that, what an ongoing and massive waste of zendaya in these films. did she and may exchange more than a few words here? I forget

man willem dafoe really has some get up and go huh?? why'd he have to perform MMA on that poor teenager. loved seeing him have some genuine fun in this movie lmao

apropos of that. the something of a scientist myself line. I was in hysterics. fan service is only good if I like it, actually

hey and we all love tobey and seeing him is always a delight but knowing of garfield's aching connection with the character filled me with so much joy as I saw him play out some gratifying beats, while at the same time it made me scratch my head as to why he'd even want to do it like. in this, like this. eeh?

shittiest statue of liberty ever

stephen's winter coat/college hoodie/sweats/uggs look in concert with his impeccably groomed facial hair and the same-ass magic cloak he always wears

so the uhh biomechanical madman can sit in the kitchen, volatile electric dude and the literal sentient sandstorm can have the couch, guy who blew up a highway twenty minutes ago gets access to classified tech in the back room, dinosaur man stays in van

left unsatisfied with alex jones jameson's character arc despite lavish emotional potential

I know this is me shaking the gift horse down for lunch money but seeing like. other spiders, sillier spiders. would have been cool. even electro noticed the caucasity, c'mon

in the end they really went like. lovers-to-strangers coffeeshop au. insta-burn

I mean we all know that in the grand scheme of things the MCU loves resetting their characters to their baseline brand templates, but holy fuck they don't even wink atcha here

DANI ROJAS AS VENOM PLEASE. FUTBOL IS EATING PEOPLE

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Around the Carousel

Catch me joining Damian Wayne Week after it started with some impulse fics. This is for day 2 (I almost made it to actually posting on the 14th my time). I selected the: Undercover prompt.

Summary: Bruce and Damian go undercover at a school fair. They're supposed to be investigating, instead they stop to enjoy themselves.

AO3 Link

~

Bruce tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled down at Damian as the boy adjusted his hat. It was the third time he’d done it in ten minutes as the wind kept pulling at it, trying to tease it off his head.

It was a windy night for them to be out. A steady breeze blew through fair stalls, kicking up banners and tablecloths, and threatening to blow papers and smaller items off of tables. It cut the late Spring heat in a nice way, making the night mild and perfect for a school fair. Which, was exactly where they were at.

“If you’d like, I can carry that for you.” Bruce said.

Damian dropped his hands and looked up at Bruce, “I am fine, Fa--Uncle Matches. It is not bothering me.”

“Alright, whatever you say, kiddo.” Bruce smiled, “You wanna adjust those glasses while you’re at it?”

His son frowned, his nose wrinkling, and sending the glasses sliding a little further down it. It was unreasonably cute. Bruce held up his phone and snapped a photo of his son. The flash went off and when Bruce dropped his phone Damian was looking surprised.

“For posterity's sake.” Bruce explained, examining the picture, it had caught Damian’s expression perfectly.

He attached it to a text and sent it to Dick, anticipating a response of jealousy from his eldest. Dick was in Bludhaven, working his own case, and had to bow out of joining the Matches boys as they went undercover.

“Uncle Matches, are you planning to spend all night looking at your phone or are we to explore the fair? You promised to examine my entry for the art exhibit.”

How Damian had managed to get a piece in an art exhibit at a school he didn’t even attend Bruce was still figuring out. Apparently he’d had Oracle hack into the system and create a profile and enrollment information for one Matthew “Matches” Malone. Damian’s art was set up under the moniker Lil’ Matches, and even thinking about it made Bruce smile.

“Of course, lead the way.”

Damian nodded, the action shaking his glasses loose again. Bruce bit back a smile. It was Damian who’d insisted on going the Clark Kent route with glasses and selecting clear ones to help obscure their identities, instead of the normal shades that paired with the Matches persona. It would be hard to defend sunglasses at a fair that took place mostly after dark.

It had been a good call, so far no one had recognized them in their suits and glasses, and they’d been able to enter the fair and purchase game tickets with ease.

His kid adjusted the glasses again, turned on his heel and began to lead Bruce. He followed at a leisurely pace, enjoying the lights strung across stalls, the smell of food frying, and the calls of students manning games and trying to get them to use their tickets to purchase sketches or experiences.

“I believe our target is one of the art students. Most have been asked to spend time by their pieces at the exhibit.” Damian explained as he walked.

“What time is their slot?” Bruce asked, eyes catching on a bottle toss game.

“He should arrive in approximately an hour.”

“An hour you say?” Bruce hooked an arm around Damian’s shoulders and spun him back towards the bottle toss, “Then why don’t we spend some time enjoying the fair, my dear nephew?”

Damian stopped and looked up at him with open surprise, “But we are on a case?”

“At a school fair. The likes of which I don’t think you’ve ever properly attended. Didn’t the one at your school get interrupted?”

“No.”

Bruce frowned, “You didn’t go, I remember that. What happened?”

His son looked down at the ground, fascinated by the way dust coated his shoe, “There was a Scarecrow attack the night prior. I--was incapacitated by it.”

He remembered now. Damian had taken a dose of toxin for Tim when his brother’s mask had cracked. Both of them had been down for a while, but Damian had been exposed longer than Tim by the time Batman and Spoiler had arrived. He’d been shaky and sick for days after.

Bruce squeezed Damian’s shoulder, “All the more reason to enjoy this one.”

He tried not to think about how Dick would have remembered right away and not pushed the subject, or how even if he had fallen in this pit he’d have figured out how to cheer Damian right away, “We can afford some distraction, you don’t want to be bored for an hour do you?”

Damian hummed, and glanced up, “I would not be opposed to trying a game or two.”

“Perfect, let’s start with the ring toss.” Bruce smiled.

They traded in some tickets for both of them to get a chance at the ring toss. The operator pointed at some green rimmed bottles, “Get at least three rings on the green and you’ll win a prize. If both of you get three onto green you can get one of the big ones or two smaller prizes.”

They had four chances each. Bruce glanced at Damian. He was focused, feeling the weight of the rings in his hands, and eyeing the bottles like he was doing the math in his head calculating what it would take to get them perfectly in place.

After a moment Damian tossed the first ring, it caught at the edge of one of the green bottles and slipped off. He frowned at it, nodded, and then tossed his remaining three in quick succession. All three landed around bottles.

Bruce grinned, and looked up to see the surprise on the operator's face. His son was extraordinary, and Bruce loved seeing him show off.

He took his own time tossing his rings, landing three as well, and missing his last. He shrugged, not minding missing one. They still met the requirements for the big prize.

“Well, kiddo, what do you want?” He asked.

Damian looked up at the racks of plushes hanging from the top of the booth, considering. He pointed at two of the smaller ones. One was a dog dressed as Batman, with a little cowl and cape, and the other was a duck wearing a green deerstalker cap, with a small magnifying glass attached to one of its wings.

The operator handed Damian both animals with a smile, “Good choices, looks like you’re a fan of detectives.”

“Yes.” Damian said, “I am, as is my brother. He will enjoy the duck. Thank you for the diverting game, and best of luck with others.”

As they walked away, Damian handed Bruce the duck, “I trust you to keep an eye on this.” he said, “If you lose it Timothy will be terribly disappointed. I cannot miss bringing him a souvenir twice in a row.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, “It’s not for Dick?”

“Tt, I would have selected a different animal for him, perhaps an elephant or bird.” Damian fiddled with one of the ears of the cowl on his dog, “I promised Timothy a prize if I won one last time, it was supposed to be in exchange for driving Jon and I. Even though the event did not happen, he might still enjoy one from here.”

“I’m sure he will.” Bruce said, resisting the urge to tug Damian into a tight hug, “What would you like to do next? That didn’t take us very long.”

His son looked around the fair, “Perhaps we could try one of the rides? Is there one you particularly enjoy?”

Bruce looked up around them, the fair had a variety of rides. The school had managed to hire a good selection, including a carousel. Bruce pointed at it, they could just see the pointed top from where they were.

“The carousel, you’ll love it.”

This time Bruce led, with Damian close by his side, as they walked, Bruce gave into the desire to reach down and take Damian’s hand in his own. When the boy looked up at him Bruce smiled, “It’s normal for families to do, especially in a busy place like this.”

The crowd wasn’t so thick Bruce was worried about losing Damian, but the move felt natural. He’d held his other children’s hands at events like this before, even Tim’s, though they’d gone well after the boy was the usual age for hand holding when wandering around an event. Damian didn’t seem too upset, in fact he gave Bruce’s hand a squeeze.

“That makes sense. As my Uncle you would be concerned for my safety and wish me to stay close.”

“Of course.” Bruce nodded.

Soon they reached the carousel. Bruce watched Damian with a close eye as they approached. Damian’s face went from cautious and curious, to delighted. There was something about being at the fair and undercover that seemed to let his son react a little more openly than he might if they were somewhere else. Bruce contributed it to the magic of the night.

“It has animals?” he asked, looking up at Bruce.

“Yep, different types. Carousel horses and animals are actually a really unique type of art. There are some horses that have sold for tens of thousands of dollars.” He explained, “And some artists who spend their whole lives making just horses for them.”

Damian’s eyes had gone very wide now, his face open with childlike delight, “And we are allowed to ride them?”

“Most yes, this one probably isn’t as fancy as some, but if you’re interested I’m sure we can visit a few of the more famous ones. I bet Dick’s seen some really cool ones from when he was younger.”

The look on Damian’s face, of excitement and anticipation was enough to melt Bruce’s heart and say yes to anything the kid might ask. Bruce tugged him forward.

“Come on, let’s get in line.”

They didn’t have long to wait, just until the ride stopped and emptied off. From there, they traded in a few more tickets for a chance to ride. Damian wandered the whole of the ride before selecting a white horse with gold trimmings. Bruce took the brown one beside it. They’d taken so long selecting, that almost the moment after they were settled, the ride began to move.

Damian’s laugh when the horse he was on began to rise and fall along with the forward momentum of the carousel was like music. Bruce wanted to take him on every carousel in the world to keep hearing that laugh and seeing that smile.

“May we go again?” Damian asked, the moment the ride stopped.

“Of course.” Bruce told him.

After the second ride, they stepped off and back into the crowd. Bruce checked his watch, they still had some time to spare before they had to be at the art display. He glanced around and caught sight of some food stands.

“Have you had a funnel cake before?” He asked, elbowing Damian.

His son shook his head.

“Then we’re getting one.” Bruce declared, “They’re the perfect mix of fried dough and toppings. We���ve got enough time to enjoy one before getting back on track.”

Damian looked less excited by the prospect of fried dough, but agreed to try it. Soon, the two of them were seated at a picnic table with a funnel cake between them. It was topped with powdered sugar, chocolate, sprinkles, and even some whipped topping. Damian gaped at the concoction, but Bruce passed him a fork with confidence.

“You just have to go at it.” he explained, “Dig in and enjoy.”

His son snorted, “That sounds like something Richard would say.”

Bruce grinned at him, “It should, he told me the very same thing when he introduced me to funnel cakes.”

Together they managed to eat the entire funnel cake. As Bruce set his plastic fork down, he thought finishing it off might have been a mistake even if they weren’t in the middle of an undercover operation. His stomach felt heavy with grease, sugar, and bread.

“That was--a lot.” Damian said, finishing his bottle of water.

“Yes.” Bruce said, wiping at his fake moustache, “It was. But I think we’ll be fine. It’s about time to head over to the exhibit.”

He wanted to get there early enough to see Damian’s piece. The kid had been very secretive of what he’d been working on for it. Taking the project as seriously as he would have as if it were for his own school fair. Bruce wanted to be able to enjoy it before they disrupted everything.

They were here to catch one of the students in the act of trying to blackmail a teacher. Damian had gotten news of it from his friend Collin, letting him know that strange things were going down. After some research, Damian had found some discrepancies in grades with a few of the students, and noted one teacher withdrawing large sums of money on a regular basis. Not enough to make a kid rich, but enough to placate a teen who’d watched too much television.

Damian had brought the case to Bruce, and together they’d worked out that this would be the next best place to find the kid and teacher interacting in a public location. From what Bruce could tell, the teacher hadn’t done anything against his students, instead he seemed to be in the middle of an affair with a seperate teacher. The plan was to bust the student, or at the very least record the exchange and get it in the hands of the administration.

The teacher in question? One of the art instructors.

They tossed their trash into a bin and Bruce let Damian lead him over to where the art exhibit was put up. It was tucked in one of the further corners of the fair, out of the way of chaos, but on a busy enough route that plenty of people were stopping by to look at the art.

“Which one is yours?” Bruce asked.

“Ah, it is this here.” Damian led him to a painting hanging up on a temporary pillar.

It was a painting of the garden outside Wayne manor. Done in bright beautiful colors it looked like you could step right into the painting. Portions of the paint were raised up to create texture and shadows, like the petals on flowers. In one portion, Bruce could see Alfred the cat sleeping in a patch of sun.

“It’s gorgeous.” Bruce said, “the detail is incredible.”

Damian was blushing, “It is nothing, a quick painting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, I know you were working on this for hours.” Bruce told him, “Do you get to bring it home?”

“Yes.” Damian said, “I was not sure what to do with it.”

“We’ll hang it up, of course. There’s a spot in the library I think will work well. Some greenery in a very brown room.”

At this point, Damian’s ears had gone red, “If you are sure.”

Bruce nodded, “I am.”

They spent a little longer looking at Damian’s painting before they shifted to look at some of the other pieces on display. There were quite a few that were really good, and a number of interesting ones. Some looked as if they had been submitted just for a grade, but all in all it was enjoyable.

Bruce was busy looking over a self portrait when he felt a small sharp elbow jab him in the side. He looked up to see Damian staring at another young man. Probably about sixteen, who’d just walked into the display area.

“That him?” he asked.

Damian nodded, “Let us wait to see if he approaches Mr. Franklin.”

Bruce slipped his phone out of his pocket and played with it, as if he were taking general photos.

“Matches, why don’t you stand by your painting? I want to get a picture of you with it.” he said, affecting a delighted uncle voice, “I’m sure your dad would love to see it.”

They moved over to the painting, and Bruce aimed the phone as he walked. Mr. Franklin was situated just behind the pillar with Damian’s painting on it. He snapped a few pictures of Damian, directing the kid to smile and pose, before slipping the phone’s setting over to video. He shifted slightly so that Franklin was in frame and hit record.

After a moment, the other boy approached him. Bruce inched forward to make sure he could get sound, and glanced over at Damian. The kid was hurrying away, off to find a separate teacher to bring over and hopefully stumble on the blackmail scene.

The exhibit was a good place to meet as Franklin was in charge of it and there wasn’t any reason for other teachers to wander over unless they were just checking things out. Most were too busy for that, with their own booths and class exhibits to care for.

Thankfully, Bruce did catch the conversation clearly from where he was. He hoped that no one would notice he’d stopped recording his kid, and started just recording the area. If he had to, he’d just say it was b-roll for a home video or something.

It wasn’t very long before Damian came back, a teacher at his heels. Bruce shifted the camera subtly back towards Damian’s painting.

“And here is my Uncle Malone. He can vouch for my skills if my piece does not convince you.” Damian was saying.

The teacher opened her mouth to say something, and then suddenly the boy speaking to Mr. Franklin shouted, “This is not what we agreed on!”

“I’m sorry--” she said, “Matches, Mr. Malone I’ll be right back.”

With that, she split from them to intervene on the argument. Bruce stopped his recording, and sent the video to Oracle who was going to forward it to the school.

“Well, that should take care of that.” Bruce said, turning to Damian, “How about we enjoy the rest of the fair? We’ve still got tickets, and there’s some rides we haven’t tried yet.”

Damian nodded, “That sounds acceptable. This fair has been, quite fun. And I am enjoying spending time with you.”

Bruce grinned, and tugged Damian into a hug, “Me too.”

“We should do the carousel again.” Damian said, stepping away to take Bruce’s hand, “And after that there is something that apparently spins you at such a speed you are stuck to the wall.”

“Oh? Well, lead the way, we’ll go until I feel like I’ve had a full patrol.”

Damian grinned at that, and Bruce felt his heart soar. He was going to have to figure out other ways of getting them undercover to things like this. Or just take Damian out to fairs more often as father and son.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Oh, Loverboy: Part 3 (Everyone x Everyone, Star x Fem!Reader Centric)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: canonic bullying/hazing, implied 80s homophobia

Word Count: 2k

Alright people.......everyone x reader it is

You wished teasing Michael wasn't as funny as it was. He was, for the most part, a good sport. Sure, you could see that the boys got him riled up, aggravated, but you managed to embarrass him. Despite his good looks, he didn't seem particularly good with girls. Even placing your hand on his in passing managed to get him flustered. And, while he wasn't the best at flirting, he was genuine. Endearingly so.

The three of you had moved back over towards the couches, having lit some candles to pass the time before Marko finally returned. Star, being the most introverted of the group, hung back by the piano so she could watch the boys talk. You sat besides her, linking your arm with hers. Marko clamored back down into the cave with a call of,

"Feeding time! Come and get it, boys." And passed around a carton of chinese food. Star watched them pass out the meal, and you accepted the carton and chopsticks that Marko passed to you. "For you, gorgeous." He said, and you shook your head at him with a smile. You offered some to Star, but she shook her head. She was staring between the boys, her dark brown eyes watching David and Michael carefully. She'd been acting as referee ever since David had called the three of you over there.

You knew your boys weren't bad guys. Sure, maybe they messed with Michael just a little too much, but they couldn't help it. He was an easy target. So, you weren't necessarily surprised when you watched Michael spit his rice out. You were about to laugh with them, but you were quick to hear the girl besides you say,

"Leave him alone." And you hid your laughter behind another mouthful of food. The laughter was quick to die, and out came David's half-hearted apology.

"Sorry about that. No hard feelings though?" He said. You wondered if it'd just been the weed. You knew Paul had some pretty strong stuff, and Michael probably wasn't used to it. Or, it could've been something else. You knew, to some degree, this was David's weird way of flirting with the boy. You remembered the first time David had ever shown interest in you. You were sure that he felt the opposite until Paul had let it slip. 

"No." Michael said, looking as confused as ever. You smiled to yourself, lightly knocking your shoulder against Stars. As if to say, see? He's fine. But she didn't look too sure. Perhaps you shouldn't have given David the benefit of the doubt.

"Why don't you try some noodles?" David said, holding the carton out to him. Michael closed his eyes, immediate disgust taking over his features. You ate another bite, knowing that this wasn't going to go well.

"They're worms." He said, and he looked as if he didn't even want to reopen his eyes. As if he was scared of what else could change right in front of him. David acted as if he was crazy, staring,

"What do you mean they're worms?" He said, poking around in the takeout. You chewed slowly, refusing to look down into your own takeout just in case it changed right in front of you as well.

"Don't eat-" Michael started to say, but David ignored him. He slurped the noodles back, tilting his head back. When he lowered his head and looked back at the brunette, he said,

"They're only noodles, Michael." And you knew that this was all a game. The boys were hazing him, seeing how far he could push him. So far, he was doing well. Still, Star ended up standing as she stated,

"That's enough." And you knew she meant it. That didn't mean the boys planned on listening. Paul was quick to brush her off with a,

"Chill out, girl." And you watched as Marko leaned down so David could whisper in his ear. Marko gave him a nod, turned to set his takeout down, and then started heading back to where the group kept their alcohol. Her eyes darted to you, as if looking to you for help. You internally sighed before you said,

"Go easy on loverboy." You said, but you knew they didn't intend on listening. Paul just tossed back his takeout, saying a small,

"Yeah, yeah." As he chewed. Marko brought back a bejeweled bottle. You watched as he passed it to David, and you could feel the room shift. The air suddenly felt thick, electrified. You watched as Star walked away from you, going to stand besides him before looking at the bottle. As if she wanted to say something but didn't know how. You frowned, settling your takeout aside and moving to stand behind David. You brought your jacket closer around you, placing a hand on David's shoulder as he uncorked the bottle. You had a bad feeling, even if you trusted your boys. Even if you trusted David. It's why you whispered,

"David, it's getting late. Maybe Michael should head home." And you stared at the brunette girl. Both of your eyes met, and it was clear that she felt the same. Like something bad was going to happen if Michael drank what was in that bottle. 

Of course, none of the boys listened to you. Not even Michael. You laid on Stars bed, with her head on your chest. You were running your fingers through her long, brown hair, trying to soothe her. She'd been worrying ever since the boys had left. Enough so that you had been the one to put Laddie to bed. You ran a hand down her back, whispering,

"Everything's going to be fine. The boys will take care of him." You said, even if you doubted it. It wasn't like you thought the boys would let him die, but you didn't expect them to be nice to him. Especially when you and Star weren't there to encourage it. You hoped that, wherever they were taking him, Michael would just do what he was told. Everything was usually fine when you listened to David. Star let out a long breath of hair, muttering,

"Why did David have to steal him?" Before the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence. In an attempt to reassure her, you said,

"Maybe he doesn't even like boys." And the look she gave you was enough for you to know exactly what she was thinking. It made the pair of you laugh, lightening the mood. Yeah, he definitely wasn't the straightest arrow in the quiver. 

"So, you like him?" Star asked, and you shrugged. You told her the truth, which was,

"He's alright. He's a little," You hesitated to say the word, but Star had looked up to wait for you to finish. "He's not that smart, is he?" You said, and you earned a laugh from her. It was a loud laugh, one she was quickly covering up so she didn't wake the little boy on the other side of the room. "But he's nice, and he's cute. Nice eyes." You commented. Alright, a lot of things about him were nice. He had nice loose curls, he was tall, and you were sure that a bit of stubble would turn him from homecoming king to a total babe. Star hummed in agreement, before she paused. She tapped her finger against your arm, before glancing up at you nervously. Finally, she said,

"I like him." And you weren't entirely surprised. You could tell. Now, it was more than just a crush on him based on appearance. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, Star and Michael clicked well. Hell, Michael just clicked well. If the boys came back before you left, you wouldn't be surprised to hear that a few of the others had developing crushes on him. Maybe, if you gave it time, you would too.

"You want me to tell him for you?" You joked, earning a surprised laugh from her. She covered her hand, climbing up to press a happy kiss to your lips. You held her by her waist, and you could feel that some of the worry had escaped her. Your kiss was slow and sweet, but too deep to be chaste. You massaged her sides, only lifting her shirt up the tiniest bit so you could ghost your fingertips against her warm skin. She shivered, pressing closer until you licked the seam of her lips. Her tongue was a flick against yours, and she earned a soft sound from you by sucking on your bottom lip. You tucked your hand into her hair, massaging her scalp as you let her take the lead.

The kiss didn't last long, with the pair of you pulling away when you heard the hoots and hollers from the boys returning. There goes any hopes of Laddie staying asleep, You thought. Tiredness was pulled over like a blanket over the both of you. It felt nice to lay in her bed. It was soft and warm, and you were tempted to fall asleep. But, you checked your watch. Now, it really was getting late. You hadn't lied about that. You let out a sigh, gently trying to sit up. Star didn't let you, whispering a small,

"Don't go. Can't you stay?" And you couldn't stop the smile those words brought to your lips. You tilted her face up, brushing a hand over her cheek. She didn't lift herself, only nuzzling and tightening her grip around your waist. Really, you wished you could stay. You ran the back of your hand against her cheek, whispering,

"You know I can't. Curfew." You reminded her, and Star frowned. She tucked her face into your neck, nosing along the line of your jugular. You sighed again when she started pressing soft, teasing kisses to your neck, letting your head roll back as you shook it lightly. As if leaving her wasn't hard enough already. "Do you want me to get grounded?" You asked, and you heard a small puff of air leave her. No, she didn't. She looked up at you, a small pout teasing at her bottom lip. "I thought you were worried about Michael?" You teased, and her expression changed then. She was quick to say,

"I am- I'm just- You're comfy," She said, resting her head back on your chest. The boys were back down in the cave, you could hear them. The loud sound of the footsteps. You chuckled to yourself, but you didn't miss her next quiet words. "And I miss you when you're gone." She said it before any of them could interrupt you, and you had a soft smile on your face.

"I'll be back tomorrow. We can meet right at the carousel. Same time as always." You told her, and she relented. She loosened her arms around you, and sat up with you. Just as Paul flicked her curtains to the side, letting out a low whistle at the sight of you. 

"Am I interrupting something or is this like an open invitation thing-" He started, pointing between the two of you and taking a step into the room. He didn't get far. You knew kicking him out would be a lot harder if he made it to the bed. You were already sending him a half-hearted glare and telling him to,

"Scram, Paul." And Paul snapped his fingers at the two of you before leaving the same way he came. At least he could take a hint sometimes. You watched as he retreated, knowing at least one of the others was going to filter in soon. Before you could be interrupted again, you pulled her into a kiss. You cupped both of her cheeks, thumbing them lightly. You didn't care if any of the others saw, and part of you wanted Michael to see. So, he could know what he was getting himself into. So, if he wasn't what you hoped he was, you could find out in the safety of the cave.

Even when you pulled away, she didn't open her eyes. She let you hold her face in your hands, leaning into your touch. You could see the sleepiness pulling at her, your own sleepiness doing the same. Her voice was soft and tired as she whispered,

"I love you." And you thought about her words over and over the entire time David drove you back to your house.

[blueskrugs]

The Best Day | Sammy Blais

(it’s a @powerblais gif! and a very smiley sammy!) 

we’re back with another fluffy fic! this one’s a tiny bit different, but I had both this song and dad!sammy on my list for a while, so when I started planning this series, they seemed perfect together. anyway, someone might need to check on erin after this. no beta from Sarah on this one...because I just finished it like five minutes ago. 

tagging:  @marcostandella @stlbluesbrat @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @zinka8 @aria253264 @antoineroussel@starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline   @braydenschenn @nazdaddy​ 

length: 2.3k words. this is a kid fic, but there’s no real talk of pregnancy or birth, just some scenes from growing up.

You’d always known Sammy would make a good dad one day. He’d grown up a lot in the years you’d known him, though you’d never forget the look of pure terror and awe in his eyes when he held your little girl for the first time.

“Mon petit ange,” he called her, my little angel, whispered for the first time just for her little ears to hear. 

Sammy loved you, you knew, but he loved Lily more than anything in the world.

I hear your laughter and look up smiling at you, I run and run Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now the sky is gold

It had been Sammy’s idea to go to Eckert’s for apple and pumpkin picking, just before Halloween. You weren’t sure Lily quite understood the concept of carving pumpkins just yet, since she was only three, but Sammy had insisted “for the experience.”

You were pretty sure Sammy just wanted to go for himself, but you were hardly going to fight him on it.

So the three of you bundled up against the blustery St. Louis fall day and into the car– with only minimal fussing from Lily, because that was a thing now– on a day off in late October. It wasn’t really too cold, and it was sunny, just a hint of late summer still lingering in the air. 

Sammy was excited, singing loudly and off-key to every song that came on the radio. He’d turn to grin at you every time you groaned, big and happy, and you loved him so much. You turned up the radio.

Sammy beat you to the back of the car after he parked, sweeping Lily out of her car seat and up into his arms. She giggled excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he dashed off with her. You just laughed fondly and followed after them.

It was a little late in the season for most of the apples, but you took the tractor ride into the orchard anyway. Sammy did most of the picking, quickly filling up the little basket you’d been given, though whenever Lily tugged on his jeans, he would scoop her up and hold her up to the trees so she could grab an apple, too.

She only dropped a few of them. Well, some of them. They still went into the basket, just a little bruised now. 

Next came the pumpkin patch, which you think Sammy was more excited about. Actually, you knew Sammy was more excited about the pumpkin patch, you thought, as you watched him run ahead of you and Lily. 

“Alright, we need three pumpkins,” Sammy said when you caught up to him.

“Three?”

Sammy made a face at you. “Me, you, and Lily,” he said, slowly, like you were missing something obvious. 

“Our daughter is not carving a pumpkin by herself,” you laughed. You’d really been planning on doing one with her while Sammy did whatever he wanted to do.

“Why not?”

“You are not giving our toddler a sharp object.”

“The knives that come in those carving kits aren’t that sharp,” Sammy reasoned.

“Oh my God,” you said. You weren’t winning this argument. 

The pumpkin patch was pretty picked over, as close to Halloween as it was, but there were still enough pumpkins that Sammy could be extremely particular about it. It was all “too small,” “too big,” “too bumpy,” “too smooth,�� which. What. 

“Sammy,” you warned when Sammy hefted a giant pumpkin that probably weighed more than Lily. He whined at you, but put the pumpkin down again, so you were going to count it as a win.

Eventually, you settled on three– because Sammy had, in fact, won the argument that all three of you needed your own pumpkins– pumpkins that had passed Sammy’s test, along with a full basket of fresh apples. 

“Good day?” you asked.

Sammy slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. Lily was running ahead of you, but she looked back every few steps to smile at you and Sammy. 

“The best,” Sammy replied. 

But I know I had the best day with you today

Game days had always been your favorite, and they’d only gotten more fun since you’d had Lily. She got caught up in all the energy of home games at Enterprise, yelling and cheering with everyone else in the arena, even under those giant baby headphones she used to wear and she didn’t really know what was going on down on the ice. 

Today was no different, Lily clad in her tiny Blais jersey,  bouncing excitedly in her carseat, the special pregame playlist Sammy had made for her playing over the car’s speakers. She was still bouncing as she stood carefully next to you on the boards during warmups. She banged happily on the glass as players skated past. Vince shot you a grin as he went by before Sammy came crashing into him. 

“Daddy!” Lily yelled. 

Sammy smiled and waved before carefully balancing a puck on his stick and flipping it over the glass to you. Lily clutched that puck all night long. 

And I didn’t know if you knew, so I’m taking this chance to say

There was no greater place in St. Louis than Forest Park on a warm spring day. It was late in the season, and the Blues had a rare day completely off. You were all itching to get out of the house, so the Zoo it was. 

Well, after Sammy spent a few minutes complaining about the parking lot, that is. 

“Okay, where to first?” Sammy asked, clapping his hands together as you walked into the atrium. Lily was busy pointing up at the giant squid and sharks hanging from the ceiling. 

“Train!” she called.

You raised your eyebrows at Sammy. “Train it is, then.”

“Then the carousel?” Sammy asked, turning those big eyes Lily had gotten on you. They both knew you were powerless against them.

“Yes, oh my God, you’re as much of a child as our daughter sometimes,” you said. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said. “We can go see the seals and the penguins after, I promise,” he added, because he knew they were your favorites. 

You held Lily while Sammy bought tickets for the train, but she sat on Sammy’s lap in the cramped train car. She giggled and chattered the entire way around the Zoo, often waving at other zoo-goers you passed at the crossings. After a while, she poked Sammy enough times that he was waving, too. 

“Where to next?” Sammy asked as the three of you clambered off the train at the end of the line, but it was token, because he was already scooping up Lily again and heading towards the carousel. 

You got double puppy-dog eyed into joining the two of them on the carousel,  which is how you ended up on the back of a polar bear next to your daughter, who was astride a giraffe, with Sammy hovering behind her. His hand was on the back of the giraffe, as if he was worried Lily would fall. You took a picture of them like that, twin grins on their faces. 

After the carousel came the polar bears and the penguins– Lily laughed in delight when she got splashed by one of the penguins, though she wrinkled her nose at the smell– then towards the sea lions and seals. You tagged Sammy back towards you by his hood as you emerged back into the humid air. 

“This was a good idea,” you said. 

“Yeah?” Sammy said, but he was beaming at you. He pulled you close for a quick kiss, and you both laughed when Lily made a face at the two of you.

I come home crying, and you hold me tight and grab the keys And we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away

Growing up was hard. Middle school was even harder. You’d been there before, but it didn’t mean your heart broke any less when Lily came home from school one day and burst into tears when you asked her how her day had been.

You and Sammy shared a look over the kitchen island as she made her way to her bedroom.

“I’ll handle this,” Sammy said, snagging a bag of cookies out of the pantry and following Lily upstairs.

You couldn’t make out much of their conversation from where you were, not that you didn’t try. Sammy had left Lily’s bedroom door open behind him, but you had never quite mastered French, much less French that’s coming to you through tears and down a flight of stairs. 

Sammy came downstairs ten minutes later and winked at you as he put what was left of the cookies away, Lily trailing after him, calmer now. He mouthed, “I’ll tell you later,” at you over her head as you hugged her, except it was forgotten in the rush to get ready for that night’s game. (Not living with Vince anymore did not make Sammy any more punctual.)

It wasn’t until Saturday, when both Lily and Sammy were up bright and early on their day off, that you even remembered he’d never told you. 

“Where are you two off to?” you asked as you watched Sammy hunt for his keys. 

“An adventure!” Lily said.

“Oh boy,” you replied, but Sammy just shot you a grin and shoved a hat on his head.

An “adventure” turned out to be a breakfast date, then a hike out at Castlewood State Park, ending with a drive out to Kimmswick for an apple pie from Blue Owl, which you fully intended to eat at least half of yourself. 

“Good job,” you murmured to Sammy as you listened to Lily talk about their day after dinner.

“She failed a test and got in a fight with her best friend,” Sammy whispered back.

“Remember when those were the biggest things we had to worry about?”

Sammy just laughed softly, pressed a kiss to your temple, and went to get the pie for dessert. 

I have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger

You were never more thankful that Lily had chosen not to play hockey than when you had to watch Sammy get injured. It was hard enough to watch the man you loved go down; you weren’t sure you could ever handle your baby girl getting injured.

The Blues were on the road when it happened. You didn’t even see it happen, just a late hit from a Minnesota player behind the play, but then Panger was pointing out that Sammy was still down on the ice, and the play was being blown dead. 

“Shit,” you said.

“Language,” Lily said absently, her eyes glued to the TV screen. 

“He’ll be fine,” you assured her, assured yourself.

Sammy was already sitting up on the ice, talking to the trainer, but you didn’t let out the breath you were holding until he was up and skating off the ice on his own. He didn’t return to the game, but he did text you that he was okay sometime before the end of the third. So there was that. 

They were flying home right after the game, and you and Lily were both asleep on the couch when Sammy came through the door around 2 AM. Lilly stirred when Sammy hit his bag against the doorway and cursed at it. His left arm was in a sling.

“Dad!”

“Why aren’t you in bed? You have school tomorrow,” Sammy said as Lily stretched and bounded over to carefully hug him. 

“Oh my God, Dad, I’m 16,” Lily said from under Sammy’s uninjured arm.

“He has a point, though,” you said. You hadn’t been able to say no when Lily had asked if she could stay up with you until Sammy came home, but he was home now. So: “Good night, love you,” you told her. 

Lily sighed and rolled her eyes, but went upstairs without complaint. You grabbed Sammy’s bag from where he’d dropped it and followed him upstairs yourself.

“How bad is it?” you asked once the bedroom door was closed behind you.

Sammy smiled tiredly at you. “Just dislocated. They’ll do some tests tomorrow to make sure there’s no damage, but they think it’ll be fine.”

“She worries about you, you know,” you said. You did, too, obviously, but Lily watched Sammy’s every move on the ice extra closely as she got older. Sammy wasn’t as young as he used to be, and you worried that his next injury would be his last every day. 

Sammy sighed. “I know.”

“She gets her stubbornness from you,” you said pointedly when Sammy winced trying to take off his shirt.

Sammy laughed quietly. “I know.”

And I love you for giving me your eyes, for staying back and watching me shine

Sammy was crying, and you were laughing at him.

It was Lily’s graduation day, and he’d been emotional about it all day. He’d barely made it through pictures that morning, but he’d been fine at the start of the ceremony, though you had a feeling that was going to change once they started calling names. 

“Keep it together, babe,” you teased, but you passed him a tissue from your purse.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “That’s our little girl!”

Your little girl wasn’t so little anymore, and she was walking across the stage to collect her diploma, confident and beautiful in her cap, gown and high heels. She’d grown up so much, but she would always be Sammy’s mini-me. Same brown hair, same eyes that could never quite decide if they were blue or green. Soft spoken but stubborn as hell.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sammy would whisper to her later, and you’d both hug her a little tighter.