#and then just general reorganizing and wiping everything down

[vamptastic]

everything else is fine at least 😭 i went back early to do spring cleaning and for once in my godforsaken life i actually feel motivated to do so

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 6 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 5.3k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 6 - It’s Just The Time for Dancing

The next few days pass quietly for you. Which is a good thing, really. Your lip still hurts from biting it so hard. Luckily, it didn’t swell much. You need a few days to get back into your daily routine, making sure you are where you are supposed to be, and you’re seen by the people who need to see you. The tram driver on your morning route, the lady at the bakery on the corner, your co-workers as you clock in, the security guard reading the newspaper under his desk—everything is normal, everything is routine, everything is as it should be.

Except for the American pilot you have hiding in the loft. But no one needs to know about that.

You exhale heavily, puffing out your cheeks as you look at the wet streaks your mop leaves on the marble floor. Finally back on the evening shift, you spend the hours after dark mopping floors, dusting shelves, wiping down desks, swiping ration books, polishing brass doorknobs, collecting forgotten cups, forging two new identity cards, dusting shelves and taking out the trash.

It’s an unpopular shift for many reasons. On a bad day, you’re cleaning until midnight. And it’s generally a creepy place. The Ministry of Interior is housed in an imposing, modern-looking building that, at best, looms ominously over the city from its position on top of one of the hills surrounding the river valley. And at night, when the building sits deserted, a chill sets over the place. Many of your coworkers speak of strange sounds, like the ghostly ticking of typewriters echoing through the halls and strange shadows moving in locked rooms.

You don’t mind, though. Possibly because you were the source of those phenomena. The national police and gendarmerie are headquartered here, and for all the reorganization for efficiency in the last few years, civil servants will always be too overworked to really notice (or care) about small discrepancies in the paperwork. Or they are crooked, which makes getting ration books near child’s play. Plenty of crooked cops sell them on the black market, so they usually keep a stack stashed away somewhere—a somewhere you’re bound to find as a cleaner—and it’s not like they can report them missing. 

And it’s really nice of them to have all the forms prepared like that—it saves you a lot of time filling in travel permission forms, adding a stamp here, making a file disappear there, and creating two new identities with legit personal numbers.

Because all the forms are the same and most people working here fill them in on autopilot, they most likely can’t recall which they actually did, or which might have been slipped into there by you. The efficiency of the system has made it so monotonous that it dumbed everyone involved down, ironically.

It’s the day shift that generally gives you the shivers. When the place is filled with men and women with sour faces and their ill-fitting suits, complaining about the workload, dutifully submitting their reports on people and signing off on another arrest, another cog in the machine of the regime. 

No, you’ll take ghosts over those beasts any day.

Carefully reaching under your tabard apron, you adjust the ration books tucked between the waistband of your skirt, making sure your sweater is covering them. First, you have to finish mopping this hallway, and then you will wipe down the desks in the offices on this floor, paying extra attention to the desk of the officer handling identity cards. 

You take your time mopping. It’s natural to want to work fast as the adrenaline starts pumping in anticipation of… well, committing a crime. Even if you believe it’s for the greater good, identity fraud is not a small crime. Besides, the more people filter out of the building, not wanting to spend a minute more here than necessary, the less noise there is. 

The empty, almost gaping halls and cold marble floors might feel might be spooky in the way they eerily echo the smallest sounds, but they also make it virtually impossible for anyone to sneak up on you.

Slowly, lowly humming, you work your way down the hall. The dirty water sloshes in the metal bucket as you carry it into the stairwell, leaning your mop against the wall. You wait for a moment, listening for any sounds from the other floors. It’s quiet. Good. Fishing a dusting rag from your apron. Time to get those desks cleaned.

By the time you reach your destination, your heart starts beating harder. You force yourself to breathe calmly—don’t let fear rule you. You’re going to need a steady hand.

You wait a moment in front of the office door. Still not a sound.

Now you hurry. With quick movements, you pull out registration forms from different folders, so the ID numbers are not consecutive, and therefore will be easier to… lose in the filing system. Sitting down at the desk, you stretch and flex your fingers. 

Calm. 

You start diligently filling out the forms on the typewriter—the quicker, the better, because this is the noisy part. New names, new birthdays—new people. Carefully, you unscrew the cap of the too-fancy fountain pen, hesitating for a small second before copying the signature from one of the other papers on the table with a flourish. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t look quite perfect—actually, it’s better. It bears every mark of a hastily processed form by an overworked civil servant trying to get home at the end of the day, the authentication stamp smudging the still-wet ink, mindlessly filed away in the wrong folder. Everything just deliberate enough to make it look indistinguishable from regular incompetence.

You hesitate to remember when your brain switched gears like this, always looking to find a loophole, always looking to find a way around other people and essentially exploit their behavior. In high school, you once cheated on a biology test by peeking at your deskmate’s test paper. It was an inconsequential pop quiz. The deskmate in question was your best friend Eva, who would later get into med school. But still. You barely slept for the rest of the week until you got your grade because you were so scared the teacher knew and was going to fail you publicly. 

It feels strange. Foreign. Like that fear you felt so profoundly at 16 was only a pebble skipping in the pond. You mull over the hollow feeling as you start filling in identity cards with a neat looping script, where it feels like that same pebble has been sinking deeper and deeper into dark dread. Every time you think you might have found the bottom of your greatest fears, something inevitably happens that pulls out the rug from under you. 

Like Rooster.

His very presence feels like another rug pull. 

And to your growing annoyance, despite every problem he poses, instead of working on some sort of solution, your mind wanders to that warm skin, that crooked, cocky smile—and god, that broad chest, those powerful arms, how comfortably close he seems to get to you and how some part of your brain is itching for more.

Just as you finish up, leaning your elbows on the polished wood as you resolutely screw the cap back onto the fountain pen, almost as if you’re hoping to screw a top onto your wandering thoughts. 

You hear footsteps. Heavy footsteps, that are too close for comfort. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice. Shit.

 As you shoot up from the chair, swiping the identity cards from the desk and stuffing them into the waistband of your skirt, you hastily straighten your apron. In a flurry of movements, swiping the forms off the desk and stuffing them in the back of the first open file drawer, you go to grab your dusting rag, but with that, knock the fancy fountain pen off the table.

As the black pen with the fancy gold trim clangs loudly against the marble floor, you see the cap pop off in an almost comical, slow-motion way. The black ink splatters out over your shoes and socks. You curse, wide-eyed, ducking behind the desk, desperately trying to mitigate some of the horrendous mess you just got yourself into. The ink is staining your fingers and palms as you try to hide the absolute massacre you just caused. Your blood is rushing in your ears so hard you cannot even hear the footsteps anymore, and you can only hope that they passed you by now, that they didn’t need to be where you are, and they didn’t see you in the first place.

“Is someone in here?”

You are pretty sure you can feel the blood physically drain from your face—the deafening rush is suddenly replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The security guard, who is usually halfway down a bottle of cheap liquor at this hour and somewhere off in dreamland, has decided tonight to actually do his job.

Slowly, you get up, clutching the pen between your ink-stained fingers. You want to look up and see how the guard reacts, but you force yourself to keep your gaze trained on the toes of your dirty shoes. 

You are known as the slowest cleaner. Kind of clumsy. That’s why you’re typically the last to leave. You don’t discourage the rumor—even though it stings. Sometimes you lean into it. Every time you feel a little bit less like yourself.

“Miss Anna?” The guard doesn’t even seem surprised. His voice sounds like brittle paper—he is an old man, after all. Back bent and fingers almost pulled into claws from a lifetime of heavy labor, his uniform seems to hang off his wiry form. You don’t actually know his name—the rest of the staff just refers to him as the gamekeeper, after the brand of cheap herbal brandy he seems to favor to keep him company on the night shift. 

“I’m sorry sir, I…” You trail off, jerking your hands slightly in a graceless motion, drawing attention to them. “I just wanted to take a look.”

“Oh, you unlucky girl,” The guard sighs, part empathetic, part exasperated. “Clean up, you are going to miss your last tram.”

You nod, hurriedly starting to clean the mess with your dust rag.

“Is your bucket in the hall?” The guard asks, not unkindly. “You can mop up the mess quicker.” Nodding, you start moving towards the door, where the guard is still standing. He looks up and down at you, clicking his tongue as his gaze lands on your splattered shoes. “Just a bit of vinegar when you get home, and blot it out carefully.” He offers, in an almost fatherly tone. 

“Thank you, I didn’t know that,” You smile awkwardly. “I thought I just ruined these.”

Water and soap work just as well, you know, but it’s best just not to say.

“Run along now.” He dismisses you as he starts down the hall, the other way from you. “People might get suspicious if you hang around too long.” The gamekeeper croaks, not looking back at you.

Your luck is up for tonight.

***

Bradley is bored. 

Never in his life has he been this bored. In school, in detention, church on Sunday, every endless ocean crossing, where there’s no land in sight, and he’s just surrounded by a wide expanse of nothing on the horizon. Because at least there are always people around. 

In his plane, up in the sky, he is pretty much alone. But even there, he can see his fellow aviators whiz by, he can hear their chatter on the radio. Even up there, he is never truly alone.

He doesn’t like being alone.

He also doesn’t like being bored. But the small room under the roof has little in the way of entertainment for his lonely days. Finally, he has a place where he can recuperate in peace at least. 

It’s been over a week now.

Recuperating means laying in bed mostly, starting at the ceiling. The pain is getting less, but his energy is falling too. Sometimes Bradley moves through the room, leaning out of the small window, smoking. There’s not much to see but other rooftops, a few church spires on the horizon, and the blue sky. 

He tries to stretch his sore muscles carefully, almost scared he’ll lose every part of his health (and vainly, physique) if he stays idle too long. There’s nothing much he can do about his ribs, the dull ache gets a little less every day, but they take a long time to heal. He has time in spades, he thinks bitterly. Bradley’s ankle was a different story. It looked horrendous in the first days he got to the safe house: swollen, hot, blue-ish bruises forming under the skin. 

As your cool fingers graze over his ankle, you tell him to keep it elevated. If it doesn’t get better in a few days, you’ll find someone to help. Bradley doesn’t want his ankle to be broken, but he likes your soft and kind touch. He craves more of your touch. It’s in such stark difference to your serious expression and earnest tone.

When he’s alone again, sometimes he thinks of home, allowing himself to finally dwell on some thoughts he buried a long time ago. It’s strange—Bradley traveled many places with the Navy, never feeling particularly homesick. Probably because deep down, he was always convinced he’d return. He had to, right? It’s bad luck to dwell on death, but it’s foolish not to fear it. But now… now he’s dwelling on it. The thought of never seeing his home again, never visiting his parent’s grave again leaves him feeling hollow. 

And guilty.

He meant to visit the grave site before he shipped out to Britain, but a particular blonde and bourbon caught his eye and he decided to wallow in that, rather than his own grief. Now there is no blonde, no bourbon, just him.

And sometimes you.

You are like a breath of fresh air.

Sure, you still don’t smile much—not as much as Bradley would like any way, and he entertains himself by getting a reaction out of you. But he looks forward to the moment when he hears your footsteps coming up the stairs. It’s been only a week and something, but Bradley is pretty sure he could pick out you padding up the stairs—gracefully, determined—in his dreams.

You bring him books to pass the time. They are old, dog-eared copies, some passages highlighted with a pencil, little notes in the margins in neat script, sometimes long-winded, sometimes no more than an exclamation mark or little cross. Bradley spends almost as much time reading as half daydreaming about you sitting at a desk, or sprawled out on a sofa, tapping a pencil against your lips, mouthing the words on the page. There is nothing particularly scandalous about those daydreams, if anything they feel strangely homely. Comforting. You’ve spent hours with these books, and they’re keeping him company now. A little bit like some part of you is with him all day. He likes that.

It’s small comforts until he hears your footsteps come up the stairs—sometimes you come around dusk, other times you keep him company in the morning. 

You never tell him anything about what you do, or where anything comes from, dismissively waving your hand in reply, face unreadable. Food appears at his door every day like clockwork, but you stay mum on how it gets there.

When Bradley looks over your ink-stained fingers one late morning, catching them as you wave them through the air in that practiced nonchalant manner, he runs the pad of his thumb over the faded ink and red skin—you’ve clearly tried to scrub it off unsuccessfully—a beat of silence passes between you.

You can feel it in your bones.

Bradley notices how your palm flexes under his touch like you want to touch him back. You’re looking at him, lips parted ever slightly, breathing shallow.

“What did you do?” He asks softly, inadvertently breaking the spell. Bradley tries to ignore the sting as you immediately drop your hand from his, averting your gaze. Every time he thinks he might have found a way in with you, like he just about manages to catch a glimpse of what you are like underneath all the bits of untruth, diversion, and armor you seem to have wrapped around you, you seem to pull up your walls even higher.

The next few times you come to visit, you keep your distance from him. You ask about his ankle, but your hands stay put.

“It’s getting better.” He looks at you pointedly, sitting up in the bed. You don’t move from the chair at the small table on the other side of the room. “The swelling is as good as gone, and it doesn’t hurt when I walk.”

“That’s good.” You sound at least a little bit relieved. But you still don’t move from your spot.

That’s okay, Bradley tells himself. The why has him conflicted. Is it okay because you are his handler, and more interested in staying alive than him? He respects that, even if he’d still like to tease you a bit anyway.

A darker side chimes in: it’s okay. He can wait—snug on his perch. He’s a patient man.

And they always come to him in the end.

You will come to him.

Guilty, he shakes off the thought as soon as it rises. That’s not fair. It’s not a drunken tryst in a bar where he doesn’t have to think about what makes you tick, what makes him tick, and it’s mutually understood that that moment will be all it’ll ever be.

This is different. He depends on you. He can’t get a grip on you. 

And quite frankly? 

It scares the everloving shit out of him. 

It exhilarates him.

“You look pretty nimble on your feet now.” You comment as you come into his small room one early evening. It’s sometime in late February, meaning Bradley has been missing in action for a month.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready to dance again.” He smirks, playfully extending his hand to you. Of course, you skillfully parry his gesture. There’s a playful glint in your eye as you shoot him a stern look. Undeterred, Bradley tucks his hand back into his pocket casually, as he watches you move around the small room. 

“I got you something, Rooster.” You start, a little hesitantly. That catches Bradley’s attention. You are rarely hesitant when you speak to him—if you don’t want to answer or talk, you usually just don’t. “A few somethings, really.”

Somewhat bashfully, you hand him a large can of peaches. Fruits in winter wartime are somewhat of a rare treat, and typically when you happen upon some you use them for trading. It’s good to be in people’s good graces, or even better, have them owe you a favor. But this time, you figured Bradley might appreciate them. And you kind of want some yourself.

That’s the reason you kept the peaches. Right? You kind of want them, but you’d feel bad not sharing. And Bradley is the one cooped up in a safe house for weeks now. You’d be going stir-crazy in his position. Even though he appears as annoyingly positive as ever when you see him.

“Nice, where’d you get these?” He weighs the large can in his hand, his eyes keenly following your fingers as you unbutton your coat and unpin your hat, gently putting them away on the neatly made bed. You meet his gaze, before you force yourself to look away again.

“I brought two forks.” You reply instead. “You have a can opener here, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s on the table.” As he puts the can down, he frowns for a moment. “Do you ever get tired of deflecting every other question?�� 

It comes out a bit sharper than Bradley wanted it to, and judging from the surprised look on your face, it cut a bit deeper than he had wanted it to. Your eyebrows raised, mouth open like you’re about to say something, but you seem to have frozen in the moment.

Tired? You think. Try utterly exhausted. Not one version of your life is authentic or complete—the handler, the roommate, the cleaner, the neighbor, the coworker, the friend, the daughter—you keep secrets from everyone everywhere, tell so many lies that it’s like you’re living all these different lives, and by god, you so desperately want to talk to someone about everything. But you can’t. You can’t even bring yourself to answer the most basic questions anymore without going down a list in your head if it’s safe to share that information or if it’s just easier to let a lie roll down your tongue instead.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you actually rendered speechless,” Bradley jokes lightly, breaking the too-long silence, trying to inject some levity back into the situation, almost nervously looking away from you and focussing on opening the can. You blink slowly and lick your lips. You want to tell Bradley about everything, what you really think, what you really feel, so there’s one person on this goddamn earth who will actually know you. But you bite your tongue and shrug instead.

“I would have actually answered you this time.” You reply, trying to match his joking tone. Bradley grins at you, as he places the opened can in the middle of the small table, and pulls out one of the chairs, gesturing you to sit down. Unable to keep a smile from tugging on your lips, you sit down, and Bradley pushes your chair in.

You shake your head, ignoring the flutter in your stomach. 

Sitting across from each other, fishing slices of peach out of the opened tin, Bradley can’t help but study you. You look relaxed—chin resting on your palm, foot tucked under your leg on the chair, taking a small bite from the peach slice on your fork. Bradley is leaning on his elbow, bent slightly forwards, toward you as he casually lifts another slice out of the can. He is dressed so casually, his white shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. He seems perfectly unbothered to sit around with his undershirt on display—you can’t even complain. You’re just glad he isn’t going around shirtless. Right?

It’s one of those strangely intimate moments, that if it weren’t for the reality of the situation, could be… almost romantic. At a table together, sharing a dessert (of sorts), and talking about the books Bradley has been reading. You try not to have your mind addled by the notion that this is the closest thing to a date you’ve been on in almost two years. You try not to let the flutter in your stomach grow every time he says your name in that deep, velvety voice. You try to keep your heart from jumping in your throat every time he catches your eye with that lopsided grin on his face to see if his joke landed.

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Best to get back to business. “Now that you’ve healed enough to walk again-” “And dance again.” Bradley interjects playfully, leaning just that little bit closer to you over the small table.

“...and dance again.” You deadpan, the soft look in your eyes taking the sting out of your words. You sigh lightly before you continue. “You need to learn your way about the city. Where to go, where the escape routes are, and look like you belong when you walk around. We might get into a situation where there’s no one to take you, so you need to be able to do this by yourself.”

Bradley frowns. “What do you mean, if there’s no one to take me? Aren’t you supposed to be my handler until…” 

He trails off, seeing the pained look on your face. You don’t say anything, and Bradley is actually grateful for that right now. After a moment of silence, you clear your throat a bit awkwardly.

“So, uhm -” You shift in your chair, sitting up a bit straighter. “I brought you some things. A map—wait, let me get it.” You get up, feeling strangely anxious. You grab your purse off the bed and take it back with you to the table. “So, here’s the map. It has the most important things, like the train stations and major roads marked.” “Thanks.” Bradley nods as he takes the map from you. He recognizes your neat script on the map, marking several landmarks. “Anything I should pay special attention to?” 

You feel relieved Bradley is not joking right now. 

“Mostly these two train stations and the surrounding areas. Either of these will most likely be part of your escape route.” You bend a bit further over the table, finger tracing the two marked points on the paper. Bradley feels like he should move back a bit, as he already knows that if he looks up now, your face will be close to his. He isn’t sure you are all that aware, focus on the map between you. He should really be a gentleman about this, but he’s also enjoying your proximity to him, and he’d like to enjoy it a little bit longer. 

In the end, you make the decision for him, leaning back again.

“How quickly do you need me to have this memorized?” Bradley asks, looking up at you. You avoid his gaze. “We’ll start with the first route to the main train station tomorrow, so the sooner, the better.” You reply, still not looking at him, but rather at your own hands as you fidget. It’s strange to see you nervous, and Bradley wonders what is making you so anxious right now.

“I also got you new papers.” You push a small booklet toward him. 

“Oh, you got me like a fake identity and everything?” Bradley curiously leafs through the booklet.

“Yeah, it’s legit as far as most police will be willing to look.” 

“So what’s my cover story?” He asks curiously, a smile playing over his face again. 

“It’s nothing special, so don’t read too much into it,” You shrug, trying to stop yourself from talking too fast. “It’s best to stay close to the truth anyway. When we go out, you still can’t talk, so I got you veteran status. We should be able to chalk it up to shell shock or something if we get stopped.” 

You pause as Bradley nods.

“Also we’re married now.” You blurt out. Bradley’s head shoots up, eyes wide.  “I - I mean our fake identities are married.” You amend, lamely.

You cringe, it seemed like such a good idea when you forged the identification cards, but now you’ve said it out loud, it almost feels like an admission of… something. To your mortification, Bradley just starts laughing. Of course. It’s preposterous, after all. He only likes to tease you, and you deluded yourself into thinking he might actually have any feelings for you. This means you must admit that you’ve developed feelings of your own.

Preposterous, indeed.

“Well, I suppose I could do a lot worse than you, sweetheart.” He is still laughing. You have difficulty wiping the hurt frown off your face, so you just look away. There’s absolutely no reason you should be taking this so personally, but you are embarrassed that Bradley laughing actually… hurts. It feels like you’re being rejected.

“I do have one question.” He adds, as he stops laughing, voice a lot more serious. You scrape together the courage to look at him, mouth set in a hard line. Bradley has a completely serious look on his face. “Why, pray tell, are we married, Anya?” 

You take a breath, trying really hard to keep the hurt and embarrassment from creeping into your voice. “Because it looks weird for a man and woman to walk together without talking. No one will buy we’re friends—let alone dating—if we walk around mutely.”

“Fair,” Bradley admits. “But we have a bad marriage, then?” 

“What?”  

Bradley is momentarily taken aback by your sharp reaction, but grins at you anyway. It seems like this whole situation has you a little off-kilter, and he wants to rock your boat just a little more to bring the spitfire out. You look so offended, lip curled up in disgust, that the suggestion that your marriage must be bad. It’s adorable.

“We don’t talk, so our marriage must be bad, right?” He questions, doing his best to be serious.

“You think not constantly talking equates to a bad marriage, Rooster?” You question him back, a cutting edge to your words. Bradley loves how riled up you suddenly are.

“I think communication is important, Anya.” He replies smirking, leaning forward again. He’s pretty sure he just saw your eyebrow twitch.

“I agree, but being comfortable in silence together doesn’t mean there’s bad communication.” You retort in a low voice. You have no idea how you got to discussing what entails a good marriage instead of exit routes, but it has your stomach in twists. Bradley seems all too comfortable. Ass.

“Of course, and there are plenty of other ways to communicate.” If at all possible, Bradley’s smirk grows. The implication of his words hangs heavily between you. You should pull back now and end this conversation. This is probably what he always does, you think bitterly. There’s just no one else to focus his attention on. But you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting to you like that.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough how compatible we are, Rooster.” The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. You close your eyes for a moment to stave off the crushing embarrassment, before resolutely getting up, smoothing down your skirt, absolutely not wanting to sit here while Bradley laughs at you again. 

There’s no use in editing your words, backpedaling that that was really not what you meant—it will only make it worse, and you will inevitably dig yourself into a deeper hole with him. Bradley gets up from the table at the same time, grabbing you by the elbow as you move past him. You inhale sharply as his large warm hand wraps around your arm.

You tug your arm sharply, but you don’t really stand a chance against Bradley’s grip. He’s not even holding onto you that tightly.

“Let me go, please.” Your voice is flat, words measured carefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Rooster. But I’d like to go home now.” 

Bradley’s heart sinks a little bit. There it is again, your walls pulled up higher than ever before.

“It was just a bit of fun, Anya.” He tells you softly. 

“Of course.” There’s a forced airiness to your tone. You jerk your elbow again, and he lets you go this time. You move past him, grabbing your coat and hat off the bed, before turning on your heel and going straight for the door. You snatch your purse off the table as you try to keep yourself from sprinting to the door.  

Hand on the doorknob, you stop for a moment. Letting out a deep sigh, you turn around. You are overreacting.

“Sleep well, Rooster.” You tell him genuinely. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, face concerned. When your eyes meet, his lips quirk back up into a smile. A nice smile this time. You feel your own lips pull into a smile in response as you turn away again. 

Everything about him is so magnetic, it’s pulling you out of orbit. You know it’s because you’re allowing yourself to become too comfortable around him. But he makes it so easy.

“Sleep well, Anya.” He tells you in that same deep voice that makes your insides quake as you slip out of the door.

note | It's been a while~ sorry <3 more will be coming soon.

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[loosesodamarble]

Coming Clean

Summary: Morgen helps Iris clean out his room and finds out a pleasant little secret. Genre: general Word count: ~650

..........

A spacious bedroom furnished with finely varnished wood and vibrant fabrics. It was a space that the elites of society would occupy. One would expect a noble’s personal chambers to be picturesque.

However, the bedroom of Iris Faust was anything but orderly.

“Iris, you’ve go—AAAAHH!” Morgen let out an undignified yelp when his foot caught on something upon entering his son’s room and being sent hurtling towards the floor.

After hitting the floor, and a number of items he was too discombobulated to identify, Morgen pushed himself up. What was around him was a veritable sea of chaos. Balled up clothing. Drawers fully removed from the furniture they came from. A hill of books. Emptied out boxes. The contents of those boxes, ranging from loose papers to childhood toys, were strewn about. There was even a hefty halberd sticking up from the mess.

Morgen made a mental note to remind Iris to keep his weapon in the armory with everyone else’s armaments.

In the middle of the room stood Iris. His one, visible eye was wide and frantic.

All annoyance left Morgen’s body and he scooted through the messy room to his son’s side.

“Is everything alright?” Morgen questioned while putting his hands on his son’s shoulders. Iris’s body jolted for a second before he wilted on himself. “It’s just me, Iris. Now can you tell what’s troubling you?”

“Dad, I…” Iris looked up and tears slid down his face. “I’ve lost them all…” He wiped his tears with his palm heels. “A-and I promised to treasure them…”

“Ah…” Morgen sighed sympathetically and ran a hand along Iris’s hair. “There, there. How about I help you look? And let’s say we reorganize so you don’t lose whatever you’re looking for again.”

“What if we can’t find it at all and it’s lost forevermore?”

Morgen bit back a laugh at Iris’s overly poetic lamentation. He had to keep focus and help his son.

“Let’s not be pessimistic right out of the gate.” Grinning with hope, Morgen rolled back his sleeves and tightened his ponytail. “Let’s give it our best shot, alright?”

Although still frowning and teary-eyed, Iris nodded in agreement.

Morgen guided Iris through the process of cleaning up his room.

“So what exactly are you looking for?” asked Morgen while straightening a stack of graded papers that Iris received from his teachers.

“Uhp!” Iris fumbled with an armful of books. He was successful in not dropping any of the volumes. But his face turned the color of a cherry and he bowed his head, causing the fringe of his hair to clover both his eyes rather than just one. “T-th-tha-tha-that’s…”

“I see. Keep your secrets then.”

At Morgen’s teasing, Iris’s face quickly lost all color and he wailed in a moment of despair. Or maybe a different kind of embarrassment.

Eventually, the floor was cleared. Yet Iris’s gaze still flicked about in a desperate search.

“So that’s how it shall be…” Iris again rubbed away his tears. “Vanished like a winter’s exhale…”

Morgen hung his head in defeat. He didn’t mean to give his son false hope. It was the last thing he wanted to do as a parent right next to disappointing his children.

That’s when he noticed a brown something tucked in the shadow of Iris’s bed. Morgen crouched down and pulled the item into the light. It was a wide and flat chess, likely used for storing stationary.

“Iris… Is th—?”

“Aaaahhh! My sweet darling’s gifts to me! My princess’s treasured words! My—” Iris blinked and only then remembered his father’s presence.

“Oh?” Morgen beamed. “Love letters from a sweetheart?” What joyful news to hear about Iris. “Is it somebody in the Spade Kingdom?” What a pleasant surprise. “Just so you know, another letter came from there. So you might want to head to the foyer and pick up your mail.”

“Daaaaaad!”

Morgen walked away, smiling to himself and looking forward to meeting his future daughter-in-law.

[professionalhomecleaning]

House Cleaning Services

Professional Residential Cleaning Services

When your house or apartment needs a thorough cleaning, the helpful hands of the professionals can work wonders. At Professional Home Cleaning LLC, we provide house cleaning services to people just like you so you can keep your living environment looking and performing its best—no matter the situation. Whether you are moving or simply want help reorganizing your space, our team can provide you with whatever necessary for a job well-done. These are our house cleaning services and how each can benefit you on your journey to a cleaner, more organized home.

01- Move-Out & Move-In

Are you looking to move out of your old home and into another? We can help. Cleaning is one of the last things individuals want to do during this already tedious process. Allow us to take away some of that burden. With our experienced team, we can get your new home move-in ready and your old one ready to sell in no time at all. We also offer apartment cleaning services for landlords to ensure apartments are in the best possible condition for your arrival.

02-Kitchen & Eating Areas

Proper kitchen sanitization and cleanliness are vital to maintaining a healthy home for you and your family. With plenty of germs and bacteria on surfaces, it’s difficult to tell whether these rooms are as clean as they could be. Our professional deep house cleaning services in the kitchen include everything from wiping down cabinets and countertops to full sanitization of appliances. This way, you can go into every family gathering with the confidence that this space is clean and safe.

03-Bathroom Cleaning & Organizing

Bathrooms are some of the most notoriously dirty areas in the average home. With our maid services, you can ditch the rubber gloves and gain knowledgeable assistance in maintaining a sanitary environment. We will tackle the dirt, grime, and limescale, so you don’t have to. We even scrub tile grout and shine your fixtures to make everything shine.

04-Bedroom & Sleeping Areas

Your bedroom is for unwinding and relaxing after a busy day, not hunting down dust bunnies. That is why we also offer specialized deep home cleaning services for these resting areas. Our professionals will complete tasks such as dusting, wiping down hard surfaces, and vacuuming. This way, you can lay your head down every night and feel at peace knowing that everything looks stunning.

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Spending quality time together as a family shouldn’t be dampened by excess dust and cobwebs. Let us get your space into perfect entertaining condition. From mopping floors to cleaning windows to ensuring picture frames are spotless, our professional house cleaning team can generate the results you want.

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[originalpackersandmoversblog]

In just four easy steps, sort and organize your new kitchen space!

You would be exhausted from the extremely long and hectic move if you just moved into your new home in Hyderabad. And when you had to immediately move into your new home and reorganize your belongings into each room—the living room, dining room, and complicated kitchen—the struggle must have been intense. However, when you have the round o'clock help from the master packers and movers in Hyderabad with you, arranging your new home and your perplexing kitchen space will not be an issue.

Outline

On the off chance that you are hanging tight for an optimal second or a particular day to take the post-action plans occur, you could wind up wrecked. All things considered, there would be endless boxes and bundles lying to a great extent at your new home - which should be all kept in their ideal spaces. Thus, prior to getting into the readiness of those things, your kitchen space should be prepared with the goal that you can start planning feasts, at any rate. As a rule, kitchen association includes a great deal of errands, and to make the entire cycle consistent and speedy, you can move toward the expert movers who might do that for you, immediately.

Note: For the most part, the trucking organizations give full-range pressing administrations that additionally includes unloading and re-course of action of stuff at your new area. Therefore, in order to make a well-informed choice about your moving partner, review their range of services and request free quotes. Before hiring them for your moving job, you can also get recommendations, read reviews, compare prices, and review their terms and conditions.

However, if you want to finish some of the organizing in your kitchen on your own without the help of a professional, our guide has the best advice on how to do so, which will make it easy for you to handle this difficult task.

How about we start…

Have an arrangement prepared and set up the kitchen

Like some other room plan, your storage space segment likewise needs a very much believed system to be coordinated appropriately. Your storeroom is the main space in your home that holds a great deal of things in various sizes and shapes and needs adequate time and tolerance. Before you begin arranging your cutlery, dishes, plates, glasses, and other utensils, dust the kitchen first.

Wipe the outer layer of the racks, racks, drawers, and cupboards and invest a little energy moving around the kitchen region so to have a thought of your kitchen plan.

Dump and void your containers

Whenever you have chosen where every one of your kitchen things ought to move, begin unloading your crates. Look at the names of the crates to have a thought of the things kept inside. Keep certain packages for the final stage of pantry setup if you are unsure about opening them. To make it more straightforward, you can open up the bigger boxes that have your blender processor, gas oven, enlistment oven, microwave, and vegetable racks. Doing this initially would help in choosing the long-lasting spot for every one of your things so you will not need to move it again and again.

Note: Normally, the region around the sink and oven will in general be the most noteworthy consumed spaces, so you can wrap up orchestrating your articles inside these cupboards first. It is acceptable to store your belongings in these storage areas because they are the most accessible. Another thing to keep in mind is that you should first unpack the kitchen's most important items and then work your way down to the less important ones.

Organize your kitchen things warily

This moment it is your opportunity to orchestrate every one of your unloaded kitchen articles in their assigned spots. Everything, including kettles, jars, cups, and glasses, ought to be kept in places that are easy to reach, ideally at eye level or lower. because these are the things that are used a lot.

For the things that are utilized once in a while, you can keep them somewhat behind. Pans, broil dish, cookers, pots ought to be set near the cooking region. You can likewise utilize the region underneath the piece to stock the bigger and seldom involved things in the pantries like the baking dishes, broiling container, huge utensils, and additional meal sets.

Your kitchen's top cabinets or crockery section could also be used to store kitchen items that aren't used often. It is best to store heavier items, which are more likely to break, in the lower drawer section, just above the floor.

Organize expensive dishes and china for special occasions If you have a lot of expensive dishes and china that you use for special occasions, you can store them in a separate area that is far from your clumsy kitchen cabinets. There are special china cabinet sections in modern kitchens that are difficult to reach and provide excellent storage for your more valuable and fragile kitchen items.

These could be a moving position to stay aware of on the grounds that it includes a ton of little and huge undertakings and one must show restraint enough to appropriately make the plans. Several delicate kitchen items require careful handling. Therefore, rather than going through the trouble of unpacking and rearranging each of these complicated kitchen items one at a time, you can simply relax and delegate the task to the skilled moving companies in your area.

EndNote

The pantry area is without a doubt the most difficult to organize and requires a lot of time and effort. On the off chance that you can focus on your post-set-up plan and converse with the movers in advance, they would organize your kitchen region at first in front of getting into the arrangement of your other rooms. Along these lines, you will have the option to make your most significant space utilitarian and endure without any problem. Besides, assuming you enlist experts for your move like the movers and packers in Hyderabad, you can handle your storeroom set-up and the leftover house association without any problem.

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART ONE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Nothing seems to go right in your new house. When yet another thing breaks, a certain handyman comes to your rescue.

W/C: 2k ish

Warnings: language, joking mentions of a house being cursed (it isn’t), reader has dirty thoughts bc it’s Frankie and he’s hot

A/N: this one goes out to my anons who’ve been sending me stuff about frankie as a repairman! I loved the idea and I thought it would be super fun to write! This will be part ONE of three-ish! ps idk if any references to reader’s gender are in this part but there certainly will be some in the future so.

It’s been a while that you’ve lived in this house. Since that day you hauled in the cardboard boxes, you’ve been feeling that your life is the epitome of Murphy’s law. Or rather, this damned house is.

Nothing ever goes right. The heat breaks in the winter and the air conditioning breaks in the summer. The plumbing needs work when you need it to work, and the oven only ever breaks halfway through cooking something. Seriously, you swear this place is cursed by some hex determined to pester you out of living here.

You’ve never exactly been the handy type. You don’t know much about mechanics, heating or cooling, the electricity and wiring in your house, any of it. By now, you wish you’d taken the time to learn it at some point rather than hiring someone every time.

The first sign was that the June heat seemed inescapable. You’d been outside all day, and you figured it was just your body taking its time to adjust to the cooler, indoor temperature. Then you never cooled down. When you stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and found the air to be nearly as muggy as that of the steamed bathroom, you realized that the air conditioning must be off.

Well, it was on. The problem was that it wasn’t working. You opened all the windows, and figured the night breeze would cool you, then you became worried about serial killers and crimes and promptly shut and locked all of them again. With the fan in your bedroom on, the air at least moved, but was still thick and heavy.

In the morning, when you wake with no blankets on and sweaty sheets, you dial the repair company as fast as you can. You inform them of the situation, and they tell you they’ll send someone out your way in the next hour or two.

The air is still somewhat cool outside, so you give the front porch a shot once you get changed out of your pajamas and take yet another cool shower. The heavy dew is an indicator of just how humid the air is, and you relish every little breeze that passes by and cools you down. You conduct your morning business outside, hoping to have this problem fixed before the sun reaches a height where the temperatures will rise exponentially.

About an hour after the call, the repair van rolls up into your driveway and parks. “Thank God,” you murmur to yourself.

Your focus returns to your computer, but you hear the door slam shut and look up to find the repairman there. He wears khaki cargo pants and a gray t-shirt, complete with a ball cap on top, with dark brown curls peeking out from the bottom. He fastens his tool belt around his waist as he walks up to the porch. “Hey there. I’m Frankie. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he informs you, a kind smile on his face. You already like him. “I got the basics from the boss, but can you tell me more about the problem?”

Looking up at him from the seated position you’re in, you give an awkward smile. Suddenly, you wish you’re better dressed, fixed up and looking nice. Even in work clothes, this man is beautiful. It makes you a little nervous, you in your pajamas and him looking like a god even in cargo pants. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about the air conditioner and how it works other than how to change the settings. All I know is that it isn’t working.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle, a soft bounce of his chest beneath the shirt. He looks down at his tool belt and his scruff brushes against the collar of the gray. “Well, let’s go give it a shot. I’ll need you to show me around, show me the control panel and the main system.” God, he’s handsome.

“Oh, of course,” you nod and stand, leaving your laptop on the small table. “Well, right this way. And please, you don’t need to take your boots off. Those look complicated,” you laugh as you look at the heavy tan boots at the bottom of his body.

Frankie nods and looks around as you lead him through the house. He doesn’t take his boots off, since you insisted, but he does give them a generous wipe on the doormat, careful not to track anything in. “It’s a beautiful place,” he tells you honestly, with a half-smile that just tugs at one of the corners of his ridiculously soft-looking lips.

“Thanks,” you shrug and show him to the control panel. “I try. Okay, here’s the button thingy.”

“The button thingy?” he teases, which leads to laughter from the both of you.

“If I knew what it was called, you wouldn’t be here,” you tease him back and shake your head.

Frankie uses the tools from his belt to take off the casing. You lean against the wall as he works, admiring the way his hands nimbly check the wires and paneling behind it. He holds a small flashlight between his teeth to look into the wall cavity.

“I can hold that for you,” you offer, and he moves his mouth for you to take it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, popping his jaw slightly to adjust from the awkward angle of holding it between his teeth. “You don’t have to. I’m just here to fix it.”

You point it at the same spot. “I might as well be some help, considering I don’t know shit about my own house.”

Frankie laughs at that, stealing a glance your way that makes your face warm before his gaze returns to the electrical situation. “Well,” he declares after a few seconds. “The wiring must not be the problem here. This all is working fine, so it must be with the actual system.”

“Great,” you groan. “The part I know even less about.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he chuckles and screws the panel back into place on your wall, making sure everything works properly and he didn’t mess with any functions.

Leading Frankie to your basement, you show him the cluttered laundry room and the central air conditioning unit. He’s already analyzing the system, and you back off to let him work. He looks focused. “Holler if you need me,” you tell him as he gets on his knees to look at something, daring to gently pat his shoulder. It’s strong, muscular beneath your palm.

Heading back to the kitchen, you open the fridge and sigh. For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and just enjoy the cold air it produces. Hopefully, your house will be the same soon enough. Grabbing two tall glasses, you fill each with ice before pouring half sweet tea and half lemonade into the glasses.

You stand in the kitchen with the freezer open, sighing at the cool air it provides. Not sure how long he’ll take, you scroll through your phone. It’s surprisingly quick, you find.

“Hey, I found it!” Frankie calls from the basement.

Carrying the two glasses, you return to the laundry room to find him reorganizing his tool belt. “Here,” you tell him with a smile as you hold out the drink. “Least I could do. It’s unbearable in here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and lifts the glass to you in a miniature salute before taking a sip. Frankie then launches into a detailed explanation of the issue with the A/C unit, using all kinds of terms you don’t understand and mentioning parts you didn’t even know were included in the machine. “I got it all fixed up, though, and it shouldn’t take long before it’s working just as good as normal.”

You sigh in relief, swallowing the sweet drink and smiling at him. “God, thank you so much. You don’t even know how awful it was in here.”

“If it’s anything like right now, I do,” he chuckles. The man takes the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, revealing a muscular but soft body beneath it, with a beautiful little trail of dark hair leading to beneath his belt. Is it terrible that your first thought is that you want to lick it?

You force the image from your mind with another swig of the drink. “Yeah, just about. Well, how much do I owe you?” You ask the man, leading him out of the laundry room and into the basement that’s already feeling cooler.

“Oh, nothing right now,” he shakes his head as you lead him upstairs and to the kitchen. “I just tweaked some things for you, didn’t need any parts or anything, so it’s just gonna be labor.” He seems to remember something. “Ah, shit. I gotta have you sign something. I’ll grab the paper from the van and be right back,” he tells you and leaves his drink on the counter, half-jogging outside.

While he’s outside, you lean against the cool kitchen counter and let yourself daydream. This Frankie guy certainly is attractive, and his personality is definitely something you’re interested in. What if the situation right now played out like a porno, and he fucked you on the countertop? You certainly wouldn’t complain. You noticed his hands and feet are large. Certainly he must be big somewhere else too. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you murmur to yourself. Why did my mind have to go there? And why is the thought so hot? He’s a sweet man too, clearly goofy and sweet. Why is your mind going there then? Really, upon further pondering, you just want to hug the man, admire his strong body pressed to yours in an intimate but innocent gesture.

“Sorry, what was that?” Frankie calls out as he walks into the house again.

His voice snaps you from your daydreaming. “Oh, just talking to myself,” you say quickly and cheerfully, taking the paper from him. The top is printed with repairman name: Francisco Morales. Francisco. That makes you smile. What a cute name. The rest is filled with the details of what he did to the machine to fix it, and you sign and date at the bottom. “Here you go, Francisco.”

His tanned skin turns a little pinker on the cheeks. “Great,” Frankie smiles and takes it back.

“Before you leave,” you tell him quickly, darting to grab your purse from the entryway, “here.”

Frankie walks to you and you hand him a generous cash tip, with a stupid smile stuck to your face. “Thank you, wow,” he says, voice honest in its surprise as he notices the total of the money.

“Of course. I really can’t thank you enough. God, it’s been painfully hot in here and I really just can’t stand the heat,” you ramble, your voice speeding up. “And… yeah. Thank you. For your company, too.”

“Just doing my job,” he tells you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, here.”

From his pocket, he pulls a little rectangle of paper with his name and company on it. “The shop number is on here; if anything changes, just call and ask for Catfish.”

“Catfish?” You ask with a smile, puzzled.

“My old military nickname. It’s what the guys around there call me,” he shrugs, shy at the nickname.

It makes you laugh a little, and you tuck the card in your purse. “Well, Catfish, thank you. I’ll be sure to use this next time I have some stupid thing I can’t repair myself.”

“Please do,” he chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” You call again and cringe. That’s, what, the ninth time you’ve said that now? He walks to the van and you give him a wave before retreating back inside. God, now you can’t wait for this shitty house to need another repair. You’ll certainly be asking for Catfish.

-

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[whump-town]

In With The New, Out With The Old

Hotch packing Jack up for college

None of it feels real.

For two years after he and Haley divorced he lived in an apartment of boxes. It was some sort of punishment he created for himself while also creating a dissonance he could be lost in -- that he didn’t need to unpack just in case. He had his suits in the closet, his work would not take the fall for his personal life’s failings. The coffee maker sat on the counter, one of the only appliances hooked into a light socket. The necessities followed -- two mugs for coffee, a glass tumbler for the whiskey sitting on the counter, and one plate for when he ordered take-out he couldn’t just eat out of the box.

It had taken him months to buy a mattress, he was perfectly miserable sleeping on the couch. He had only taken Jack to the apartment once, needing to switch into more park-appropriate clothing. Between them, he and Haley agreed that the best thing for Jack was consistency so he would spend all day with Hotch but he would always go home to Haley. He knew this could be used against him in court, Haley could take Jack from his so easily it terrified him but he also knew he’d let her. He was more powerful, he had more strings to pull and more people on his side but the thought of getting on the stand and having his friends call her a bad mother made him feel even worse. So he knew that if it came down to it, he would let Haley have Jack rather put either of them that sort of grueling case.

This was a shared thought between them. Both are aware of the other’s power over the other. Neither will act on their own.

He had only bought a mattress because of New York. Limping home he’d sunk down into his old faithful couch only to wake up the next morning with achingly stiff sutures in his leg and his face stuck to a throw pillow, the blood drying like glue. He had to call Emily and Derek that afternoon. Unable to drive himself with his concussion and consequential blurred vision Emily had come over to pick him up, never said a word about what he’d been sleeping on in the months before. Neither did Derek when Hotch got too dizzy coming up the stairs, the stitches in his leg bleeding through his jeans and so pale Emily had to hold him upright to get him to the bench in the lobby. He was left there, listening to Derek and Emily bicker their way into forcing the mattress into the apartment through the pounding sound of blood rushing in his ears.

That was years ago and yet they’ve created its mirror image once again in his living room.

All of Jack’s belongings in boxes spread out in every room of the house. Packing up to leave.

“Art?” Emily mumbles disapprovingly. She’s knelt down in front of Jack’s bookshelf, dismantling the organized shelves to pack them into boxes. It’s a different method than the one that Hotch uses. Jack has them categorized by author and general theme and as Emily takes down all the books she’s gotten him about cults and psychology and crime she can’t help but feel a little cheated. Jack knows all about crime. He’s had Macdonald’s Triad memorized since he was five -- could give that method of thought its critical analysis as not a precursor to antisocial or serial killer behavior but more as a demonstration of a child’s poor coping skills or as the indicator of a dysfunctional home environment. He’s a well of information about cults, knows the “B.I.T.E.” system.

And he’s throwing all that away because Hotch took him to too many museums as a child?

Jack doesn’t say anything when he hears her grumble about art again, he’s had this conversation so many times. He knows she’s not really mad and she’s not even that irked but she needs to do something with the feelings she has about him leaving and this is just the best way she’s come up with. Better than crying -- which she’s also done far too much of.

“I think art is a great idea, kid.” Derek teases his hair as he passes, sweaty and hot from dragging Jack’s belongings around the place.

Hotch works slowly where he’s been assigned. They all work around him. He’s more freelance than the others. His job is to do what he can and leave the rest for someone else. Today his physical capabilities are not in the way. Derek does all the heavy lifting that Hotch knows is supposed to be assigned to him, it’s his duty as the father of the freshman moving away. He finds himself in the living room, one of Haley’s old photo albums on his lap. Thumbing pictures he can remember going with Haley to print. Pictures he can remember being in. Ones that he took.

He’s crying again.

Emily comes out with a box of books on her hip, having figured out the perfect ratio of books to box to prevent them from falling out the bottom. She sees Hotch wiping his face with a tissue, hiding away but unable to fully pull away right now. The hurt raw. The fear is too much.

The second that Hotch got the chance he left home and never came back. Over the years he returned to his hometown only when he had to -- when Haley’s parents couldn’t be convinced to come to see them. It didn’t matter how down bad he was, Hotch did it on his own. When his mother died when he was thirty he’d talked to her only once since moving out. Then it had only been for the benefit of Sean, who he had driven all the back to Virginia to collect and drove to college.

He fears Jack will do the same and it terrifies him in so many ways.

His own death will come quickly, he knows he’s only made it this long because he’s not alone. Without Jack, there’s no reason to keep going on, not with the way his body aches from years of abuse and neglect. More than that, he knows what growing up that fast did to him. As a child, the things that happen to you are out of your control. Children are sponges, not yet able to take control and mold themselves. So their reactions to abuse and neglect and even just trivial everyday things are but a reaction they are taught to form or never corrected on. But Hotch never corrected his behaviors as a young adult. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone, not at twenty, or thirty, and still at forty.

He spent his twentieth birthday on the side of the highway in a broken down car freezing his ass off with negative twenty-three cents in his bank account. No one to call because he couldn’t bring himself to believe anyone would come -- but Haley would have, or Jessica, or the sociology professor who gave him his number for emergencies or “just anything you can think of, just in case you need me”.

He doesn’t wish anything like that on Jack.

The cycle of self-destruction and fear and loathing.

But Jack knows how to form healthy relationships with people. He’s more worried about Hotch.

The car ride is nearly silent.

Jack cranks his window down and lays his head on the seal, lets the wind blow his hair back from his skin, and closes his eyes. There’s no air conditioning but it’s not that bad. The air has cooled off, the thunderstorms taking over the area sucking the humidity from the air as the wind picks up. It’ll get bad again in a day or so but today is nice and Jack wants to enjoy it. To sit contently with his dad and just try to soak it in before he’s thrown into the world of college.

Emily had promised him several times she’d make sure that Hotch didn’t turn himself into a hermit. Jack has grown up watching those two spar off so he knows she’s perfectly capable of getting Hotch out of the house. More than that, Jack knows he’s just going to miss his dad.

“Please--” Jack’s in the middle of trying to reorganize his stuff when he sees Hotch come in with one of the big boxes, one of the heavy ones. “Dad!” Jack takes it from him, not listening to Hotch’s complaint about being able to carry a few boxes. That he won’t break that easily. “Please, just leave the heavy stuff to Emily and Derek. Help me put my clothes away? Please?”

He nearly cries again folding Jack’s t-shirts away. Once upon a time, Jack’s shirts were about the size of his hand. Tiny delicate little things about the size of rags. Now he’s wearing the same size as Hotch, a grown man standing there racing to beat Emily to the heavy stuff because he doesn’t want her lifting it all either.

“Well,” Derek announces, setting the minifridge down, “that’s the last of it.”

Emily offers Hotch her hand and he takes it, grunting as he moves his body back upright.

“Well,” he declares, looking around the room. “We’ll leave you to it. Let you get everything sorted out how you like.” Hotch smiles and Emily and Derek step in to take their hugs, imparting half-wise ideas and a no-questions-asked ride home from anywhere.

“I love you,” Hotch says, he’s quick because he knows he can’t keep his composure if he stays here for too much longer. “I’ll send you care packages, you’ll just have to text me if you think of something I don’t send.”

Jack nods, pretending to make himself busy putting away the rest of his clothes. Trying to downplay his own feelings.

“Ok.”

Hotch nods and they leave, he doesn’t want to make a scene. They’ve hugged and Jack needs to unpack. He’s done. He’s only two doors away when he hears Jack’s door gets thrown open.

“Dad!” Hotch turns and stumbles, an armful of the little boy who was once the size of his forearm. He squeezes Jack tight, laughing through his tears when Jack holds on. “I love you too.”

Hotch holds him for a solid minute, just balanced there with his hand on the back of Jack’s head. “Alright,” he whispers. He sniffles a little, smiling as he cups Jack’s cheek wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I’m just a phone call away, okay? Any time of the night, you know where I am. You’ll be fine. You’re going to make mistakes and you’re going to fail tests and cry over boys and drink too much but you’ll be okay. And-- And if you’re not…”

Jack nods, smiling as he says, “I’ll call Emily.”

Hotch smirks, “well.. After a certain hour, yeah I suppose you’ll have to but yeah. Just call, okay?”

“I’ll call.”

Hotch nods and he has to force himself to let go and walk away. To let Jack do this.

They’re halfway down the hall, far enough away now that Jack won’t see or hear when Hotch starts to cry. He forces himself to keep going. Not to look back. Emily takes his hand, squeezes his fingers and he looks over at her tears in his eyes, and tries to smile.

Emily drives his truck home, she plans on feeding him chocolate and ice cream, and wine this afternoon to improve his mood. He gets a text and he smirks, he actually laughs.

“Let me know when you get home, old man. Tell Emily not to keep you out too late.”

[raibebe]

Soft core

Genre: Fluff(?) Words: 11,4 k holy shit this is insane Prompt: Jaehyun in his vampire bdsm outfit he wore in the Punch era but make it sfw Warnings: mentions of blood, brief mentions of member x member relationships, brief descriptions of a panic attack

A/N: This was written for Aimee who loves Jaehyun with her whole heart, happy birthday Aimee 💖 I hope you had an amazing day and like this little something. I know you deactivated but I already started writing this a month ago and I’ll post it anyways in the hope you’ll see this someday and a couple of others will enjoy this as well. I have mixed and matched their outfits and tattoos from both the concept photos and the live stages. Also I’m sorry Johnny, but you fit the role of the shameless flirt so well… Bonus points for anyone who spots all cameos. Special thanks to @burtonized​ who made me keep going with this and listened to all my complaints.

To say you were nervous before starting your first shift at your new job in a reasonably shady bar not too far from your apartment was an understatement. You seriously questioned your own sanity and why you had even applied for the job when you had seen the offer on the beat up wooden entrance door next to an old motorcycle license plate and a bright green neon sign that illuminated the word ‘open’ a couple of days ago. The blue haired man behind the bar had given you a questioning look after you had entered the bar because you couldn’t have looked any more out of place with your soft sweater between the old wooden interior and the leather the barman and a handful of customers were wearing. It had cost all of your courage and a reminder that you needed to find a job for the weekends to walk up to the bar to ask the barman about the job offer. He had asked you a couple of questions like whether you had already waited tables before, which you had (at a place that was lit far better than this one but how different would it be?). The man who had introduced himself as Kun and honestly seemed like a big softie on the inside despite his serious look (it had to be the intense eyebrows) had agreed to hire you on the spot because he had the offer up for a while and no one had come in to ask about it and he couldn’t keep bullying his apparently very chaotic roommates to keep covering the shifts on the busy weekends anymore.

That’s how you found yourself here, a couple of days later on a Friday night, staring at the wooden door yet again (now missing the job offer and not yet illuminated by the neon sign).You took a deep breath and pushed through the door of the bar, this time not looking as out of place as you had before, wearing black skinny jeans and a simple grey v-neck. Kun looked up from where he was wiping down the counter, shooting you a smile. Today he had styled his hair up, exposing his forehead and was wearing a black button up shirt with a bunch of white details that was missing quiet some buttons at the top. “You actually came,” he grinned, “You can put your jacket and bag into the back room.” He pointed to a door with the label ‘staff only’. “We’re opening in half an hour. I’ll introduce you to the others once they decide to arrive.” Nodding you rushed to put your stuff away. You were pleasantly surprised by how clean it was in the back. The beat up interior from the main room was nowhere to be found. So it really didn’t seem too bad if it was only shabby for aesthetic purposes.

After taking a couple of more deep breaths in front of the mirror in the staff room, you felt as prepared as you would ever be and emerged back into the main room of the bar. Next to Kun behind the counter was now another man, clad in the tightest pair of leather pants you had ever seen and a loose, see through black blouse, his long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, showing off a variety of piercings in his ears that were reflecting the low light of the neon signs. When both men noticed you, the blonde flashed you a bright smile and quickly wiped his fingers on the towel he had used to dry some glasses and held it out for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Ten. Kun told me he had finally found someone willing to help us out on the weekends but he missed to tell me how cute you are. Don’t worry the customers are all nice and if anyone gives you any problems, weird stares or makes inappropriate comments, just tell me immediately and I’ll throw them out,” he introduced himself. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the image of this petite man throwing drunken men twice his size out of the bar. “Thank you,” you answered before introducing yourself as well. “Would you please wipe down the tables in the back?” Kun asked, handing you a cloth, “The other waiter should be here any minute, so he can walk you through the process.” “You’re all males working here?” You asked shyly while starting to wipe the tall round tables closest to the bar. “Honey, there’s not many woman brave enough to even set a foot in here even though about eighty percent of our regulars and hundred percent of our staff are big softies hiding behind leather jackets and tattoos,” Ten chirped, disappearing beneath the counter to check the tubes of the beer taps.

Speaking of the other staff, as if on queue the door slammed open to reveal a ridiculously tall man with the biggest brown eyes you had ever seen, his platinum hair swept back from his forehead,  a huge grin plastered on his face. “Yooo, the poster with the job offer is gone, did you finally find someone?” The man all but shouted, excitedly bouncing up and down on his way to the bar, shucking off his leather jacket and carelessly throwing it on one of the bar stools to reveal toned arms and a strong chest straining his short sleeved black shirt. “Xuxi, indoor voice please,” Kun groaned, massaging his temples. “Oh sorry,” the other man - Xuxi - answered, flashing Kun big puppy eyes. “We did find someone, please don’t scare her off,” Ten answered Xuxi’s initial question, emerging back from under the counter, smashing the door shut, which caused Kun to groan again. “That thing has a handle for a reason,” he sighed. “It keeps opening itself back up otherwise,” the smaller man shrugged, leaning against the now spotless counter, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Wait, her?” Xuxi asked, eyes wide in either excitement or amazement, “As in she? A girl?” “Yes, hello,” you quietly introduced yourself, stepping out from the corner where you had been cleaning the tabletops.

“Wow, you’re so pretty,” Xuxi said instead of a proper introduction when you walked over to where the three men were standing. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, tinting them a rosy color. Sighing, Kun took the dirty cloth from you and rinsed it in the sink. “This is Xuxi, the other waiter for tonight. As you might have noticed he doesn’t have much of a filter, but i swear he is harmless.” “Just call me Lucas at work, it’s easier,” the man in question grinned, not even bothering to correct Kun and extended a hand for you to shake (needless to say because he was unnecessary tall, his huge hand could almost cover your whole fist). “I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he beamed and even though he had just called you cute, he was definitely the cutest person currently in this room. “Thank you,” you murmured, a smile spreading on your lips because Xuxi’s grin was really infectious and you felt your anxiety disappearing.

In the remaining time before the bar would officially open, Xuxi taught you everything you needed to know. From their system and how you’d take the orders and which tables you would serve to special drinks that weren’t on the menu and what to do if any customers would give you trouble. “There’s probably not much to do for the first two hours or so”, Xuxi concluded, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, making his muscles dance beneath his shirt, “Like that you can get used to it before it gets packed. Fridays are always busy and there’s a bunch of different people coming. Did any regulars call in before?” He asked the last question to the general direction of the bar. Flipping through a book next to the cash register, Ten nodded. “127 are coming in, they got that big table in the back but other than that, no one called.” “What’s 127?” You asked curiously because that was one of the tables you were supposed to serve. “They’re a group of guys our age, but I’m not really sure what exactly they are to be honest,” Xuxi laughed while fixing the belt that held his wallet before handing you your own one. “I think they are bikers,” Ten supplied, turning around to reorganizing the bottles behind the bar for the third time tonight, “At least some of them have bikes and they sure look the part. Have you seen Johnny’s new tattoo the other week, Xuxi? That must have hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I saw the post with his chestpiece on his Instagram. That man is ripped.” “Well, you’re one to talk,” you murmured under your breath, organizing the contents of the belt to your liking. Laughing out loud, Ten slapped Kun on the chest. “We need to keep her, I like her,” he giggled and Kun just shot you a slightly pained smile, rubbing where Ten’s hand had come down. “Oh come on, old man. I didn’t even hit that hard.” “Stop calling me old, I am literally just two months older than you,” Kun groaned, softly shaking a grinning Ten. Unbothered by the bickering of the two barmen, Xuxi called over from the door: “I’ll switch on the sign!”

Your anxiety came back at full force when the bar started to fill up one hour after it opened. Resisting the urge to hide behind the bar, you approached yet another group of shady looking men to take their orders. Like the other people you had served before, they gave you a weird look while looking up and down your frame once before asking if you were new here. You just nodded and smiled politely while writing down their orders before walking back to the bar where you took out one of the trays and put the note with the order on top so Ten or Kun could put the according drinks on top. “Here, have a little drink, the night is just beginning,” Ten grinned and pushed a glass into your hands before completing the order while somehow also dancing fluently to the music that was playing through the speakers now. You eyed the drink suspiciously, the deep orange color throwing you off a bit. “It’s not spiked, no need to worry,” Xuxi told you, suddenly appearing next to you, placing his own tray with empty glasses onto the counter, winking teasingly before grabbing a colorful bottle to pour a bunch of shots, so Ten and Kun could focus on the other, more complicated drinks on the orders. You drowned the sickly sweet drink quickly and put the glass next to the ones that needed to be rinsed. You mouthed Ten a ‘thank you’ when you picked up your order and he blew you an exaggerated kiss, making you giggle and feel a little more at ease. It was like he had known you were being nervous again.

After checking in with your other tables and earning a big tip from some truckers that actually had been really nice, you made your way back to the bar to help Kun with rinsing the glasses that had been piling up. “You remember those regulars that were coming in tonight?” the blue haired barman suddenly asked, “That’s them.” He nodded towards the door where a group of men were coming in. For a moment, your breath got caught in your throat because Ten hadn’t been wrong earlier when he said that those 127 guys looked like bikers. Honestly anyone of them could have been a model for the leather clothes they were wearing while standing in front of a Harley Davidson or thrashing something with a baseball bat. (Also was one of them wearing a metal harness beneath his leather vest?) “They’re all nice people, no need to worry,” Kun calmed you down, shooting you a reassuring smile before taking the beer glass from your hands that you had started to grip so hard, your knuckles were turning white. “How many are they?” You asked him curiously while eyeing the group as they made their way over to their designated table, greeting other regulars as well as Lucas (one of them was apparently just as incapable of having an indoor voice as him when he loudly yelled ‘Lucas’ before hugging the taller male tightly).

“Yooo, Johnny’s chestpiece looks even more sick in real life,” Lucas said with wide eyes when he came back to the bar. “Also he gave me 20 dollar so I would ask Haechan and Mark if they were even legal when they would order something alcoholic,” he grinned, “I’ll share if you do it.” “How am I supposed to know who to ask?” You asked because even though you were shy, 20 dollars were 20 dollars. “That’s the spirit,” Lucas grinned and threw an arm around your shoulders to turn you in the direction of the table where the men had sat down, not even trying to be subtle about it. “You see the one with the purple hair sitting next to the tall one with half his chest exposed? The purple haired one is Haechan and the tall one is Johnny. Mark is the one on the stool to the left, just ask Haechan for his age first, Mark will be the one to laugh the loudest,” he quickly explained. “You know them quite well,” you said, trying to fight the heat spreading across your cheeks because it didn’t happen any day that you were in such a close proximity to a handsome man like Lucas. “I went to school with Mark,” he shrugged, letting you go when Kun yelled that his order was ready.

Before walking up to their table you took another deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart, repeating in your head how no one had been mean to you yet and that all your coworkers kept on telling you how nice they were supposed to be. “Hi everyone,” you greeted them when you arrived at the table, “Have you already decided what you want to order?” Seeing the chaos that the group was already in, half of them probably didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the table. “Guys!” The pink haired man wearing the harness type thing scolded the others that were bickering in the back of the little booth on the couch. “I’m sorry, they usually behave better,” he smiled and his big eyes combined with his pink hair made him look like he came straight out of an animation. “I’m Taeyong by the way,” the pink haired man supplied, flashing you a genuine smile, “You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around before.” “Today is my first day,” you nodded, cheeks heating up under the gaze of the handsome man, nervously playing with your little notepad. “Let’s order, guys!” Taeyong said, the others slowly turning their attention towards you. How all of them were this handsome was beyond your imagination. Shyly you introduced yourself as their waiter for the night for the second time and asked for their orders. One after the other they either ordered plain beer or some really extraordinary cocktails that you had never heard of before. When the purple haired boy, Haechan, ordered his cocktail, you took a deep breath before putting on your best poker face. “Could I see your ID to check your age first?”

As soon as the words had left your lips, the whole table fell dead silent and the boy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. But before you could lose your courage to mutter an apology, the boy that had greeted Lucas loudly before, burst out in laughter, that the others minus Haechan quickly joined and even you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread over your face. “Now that I think about it, could I see yours as well?” You followed up and asked the dark haired boy with the infectious laugh, whose eyes immediately turned into saucers, his mouth wide open while the others couldn’t hold their laughs anymore, the purple haired boy joining in now. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, turning to the last man to order when they all had calmed down, using the napkins on the table to exaggeratedly wipe their tears. “What can I get you?” When the man with the dark hair that was elegantly swept back from his face turned towards you, you could swear that time stilled for a moment. His dark eyes that were accentuated with a bit of eyeshadow fixed yours and you were captivated, unable to look away. When your eyes dipped lower for a second you could see the black ink of a tattoo on the pale skin of his neck. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite tell why. Maybe you had seen him around on campus. But even then you should have been able to tell because that tattoo really wasn’t subtle at all. Briefly you were wondering if he could ever work a normal job with something like that. “I think I’ll just start with a beer as well,” he spoke softly, his voice a deep rumble, tearing you from your thoughts. After you had definitely stared at him for way too long than it would have been acceptable, you tore your gaze away from him, quickly scribbling down his order as well, repeating what you had written down for the others to confirm.

“Great, then I’ll be back in a bit with your drinks,” you smiled, after one of them had insisted that they should get a round of shots as well. “Can’t wait,” the tall one with the eagle tattoo on his chest said with a smirk on his lips, adding a cheesy wink that made you way more flustered than you would have liked. You quickly turned to hide your heated face, speed walking back over to the bar to put their order down. “Did you do it?” Lucas eagerly asked, bouncing up and down in excitement where he was helping to dry some glasses behind the counter. “Where’s my money?” You grinned, holding out your palm towards him. “Waaa, you really did it,” he grinned while bouncing up and down excitedly and you could barely hold in the urge to coo at him. He really did resemble an oversized puppy. You barely knew him for more than a couple of hours but he already had wiggled his way into your heart.

“Lucas, you didn’t tell us such a pretty girl would be serving us tonight,” a smooth male voice suddenly interrupted. When you turned around, the tall man from the 127 gang (Were they a gang? Did they do illegal stuff?) came walking up to the counter, leaning against the polished wood. “She’s new here, I didn’t know either,” Lucas pouted, already grabbing two shot glasses to put up on the bar top, putting the third one back down when you shook your head. You weren’t going to drink on your first day of work even though it seemed to be normal when you watched Lucas fill up the two glasses with a shady looking liquid from an unlabeled bottle he had grabbed from below the counter. Clinking their glasses together both men drowned their shots and while the tall biker didn’t even flinch, Lucas broke out into a whole body shiver, squeezing his eyes shut. “This stuff is really fucking disgusting,” he grimaced before refilling one of the shot glasses again, shoving it in front of the other man again, “I don’t know how Ten manages to make these concoctions.” Grinning, the man in question suddenly appeared and snatched the shot glass from below the other‘s fingers, drowning it himself. The blonde only grimaced a little. “I gotta say, I’ve made better stuff but also definitely worse. Lucas, we need a new keg of beer, can you please get one from the back, you’re so much stronger than I am,” Ten pouted, batting his lashes at Lucas and rubbing one of his hands over the other’s muscled arms. “Be nice to her,” Lucas told the man with the big tattoo on his chest and quickly disappeared to the back.

“I’m Johnny by the way,” he introduced himself, running a hand through his dark red hair. “So you’re the one who asked Lucas to embarrass your friends,” you remembered, your eyes getting caught on the intricate feathers of the eagle that spread its wings over Johnny’s broad chest. He smirked when your eyes came back up to meet his. “That would be me. You like the tattoo?” “It looks nice,” you mumbled, embarrassed at being caught staring, “It’s not something you see every day.” “I have some other ones that are pretty interesting as well,” he winked. “Su-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up for what must have been the millionth time this night. “You’re cute,” Johnny laughed, the sound bright and inviting, his eyes turning into little crescents. “What did you come over for? Did I miss something on the order?” You tried to move the conversation in a direction you were a little (a lot) more comfortable with. “I just thought I could put my muscles to use and help you carry our drinks, we ordered quite a lot. Also I still owe you money for pulling that prank on Mark and Haechan. Even though their faces were priceless.” “How old are they anyways?” You asked him because you didn’t actually ended up looking at their IDs and Haechan especially did seem quite young. Digging out his worn out wallet, Johnny fished out a twenty dollar bill and teasingly held it up between two fingers. “They’re both of age, don’t worry, they just have baby faces.”

Snatching the bill from his hands, you quickly stuffed it in your pocket. “Thank you,” you grinned, relieved that it really had just been a prank between friends. “How old are you then?” You heard yourself asking after you had glanced at the tray that Ten had been filling up, but a couple of glasses were still missing. The weird cocktails seemed to take quite some time to make (Why there was celery swimming in what looked like tomato juice was a mystery to you). “Let’s pretend I’m in my early twenties,” Johnny grinned, his long fingers playing with the cherries that were stuck to the rim of one of the cocktail glasses. “Pretend?” You were confused. He couldn’t be much older than you were. “It’s improper for old men like me to flirt with such pretty young girls after all,” he winked and stuck out his tongue. “You… You can’t be much older than me though,” you argued, trying to fight your shyness back down. But your furiously beating heart was betraying you. Luckily he couldn’t notice that from his place where he was still leaning against the counter, the long line of his body perfectly shown off; his legs seemed almost endlessly long in the heavy leather pants. Chuckling, he raked his eyes across your body in a similar way you must have seconds ago but you felt like you were burning up wherever he was looking. Within the blink of an eye he was in your personal space, crowding you against the bar. “I’m 25,” he breathed, “How long do you have to work today, honey?”

Before you could even think of an answer, Johnny was shoved backwards by another man dressed completely in black. You recognized him as one of the men from Johnny’s gang, the one with the neck tattoo that had seemed weirdly familiar to you. “Leave her alone, Johnny,” he drawled, his voice barely more than a growl, “There’s someone waiting for you outside.” After a moment of heavy eye contact between the two males, Johnny scoffed and threw you another smile. “See you later, darling,” he chirped before turning towards the exit. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable, he doesn’t know when to stop sometimes,” the handsome man spoke, his voice still deep but way less threatening. “It’s… It’s fine you wouldn’t have needed to step in like that,” you reassured him, “But thank you.” “Yeah, I don’t know, something just didn’t sit right with me when he crowded you like that. Especially when you’re new to this type of environment, it’s pretty different from your usual job.” “My usual job?” You asked, clearly confused, “Do we know each other?” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you had recognized me,” the man’s eyes widened in surprise and he averted his gaze as if he was embarrassed. “I’m Jaehyun. You know, the dude who keeps killing his plants.” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “No way. You look so different.” “It’s the clothes, right?” Jaehyun was rubbing the intricate lines of ink on his neck, looking up from between his dark lashes, smiling shyly and now that his dimples were almost showing, you did finally recognize him.

He was somewhat of a regular customer at the flower shop you worked in during the week to help out the old lady who owned the shop, always coming in to buy new plants when he had managed to kill yet another one. Now in the heavy leather jacket with more buckles and straps than you could count, he looked so different than when he came to the shop, his dark hair fluffy so his bangs almost covered his eyes and wearing soft sweaters and jeans. You also somehow had never noticed the big tattoo that stretched around his neck.

You could remember the first time he came into the shop very vividly. It was just after your break that you had spent lazing around in the backyard of the shop in front of the little greenhouse, letting the sun shine onto your face, just basking in the moment for a bit, letting all your worries about money or upcoming exams melt away. The job at the little flower job didn’t pay very well because people these days bought less and less flowers and the old lady couldn’t afford to pay more but you couldn’t just leave her alone in the shop. You really enjoyed her presence and learning about the language of flowers and how to bind pretty bouquets. When the distant chirping of the old cuckoo clock in the shop announced the end of your break, you got up from your place and put your apron back on, so you wouldn’t accidentally dirty your clothes. You came back into the shop just in time to see the big load of new plants that was being delivered. Two boys were unloading a colorful truck while continuously bickering in what seemed to be Chinese about where to put the plants in the shop and on the sidewalk outside so people could still walk past. “Urgh, this sucks why did we let us get talked into helping out?” The one with green hair sighed after they had put the last plant down, handing the old lady the papers she had to sign that the shipment had arrived at her place. She chuckled while handing the papers back. “I’ve made some iced tea, have a little break, boys,” she smiled her kind, wrinkled smile at them, taking them to the little kitchen area in the back to pour each one of them a glass even though the smaller of them had declined her offer at least ten times while his green haired friend gladly took her invitation.

Smiling you reassured the old lady that you would rearrange the flowers and plants so you could fit them all into the shop and the small greenhouse in the back. Maybe her grandson would come in later to help you move the heavier plants. He always came to the shop to laze around without having his parents scold him and his grandmother could never say no to his charming smile that made any girl his age swoon. He had recently dyed his hair a soft pinkish shade and had been hanging around the shop a lot more because his parents weren’t quite fond of his style choices. You gently stroked the leaves of the little pink rose bushes (that had kind of reminded you of the boy in the first place) that seemed rather thirsty to you, making a mental note to water them lots after you had arranged them.

While rearranging the cut roses so you could fit the new bushes in between them, the little bell on the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. “I’ll be right over,” you said, detangling yourself from the bush you had tried to fit in the display window. “No need to hurry,” the customer answered with a deep voice. It wasn’t often that men visited your store. And most times they just wanted a quick, expensive looking bouquet to either impress a girl or to apologize to their wife. Putting on your best customer friendly smile, you walked over to where the man was eyeing some cherry tree bonsais, his broad back turned towards you. “How can I help you?” When the man turned around, he immediately politely smiled at you, making your heart beat pick up just a little. He was definitely attractive, you couldn’t deny that. His dark hair was unstyled and hung into his eyes a bit, covering his strong eyebrows that every girl would be envious over. He seemed young, about your age. The pale blue hoodie and the fluffy hair made him seem very soft and gentle despite his strong jawline and prominent cheekbones. “Well I’ve moved into a new space and it looks a little empty, so I thought some plants might be the way to fix that,” he explained, fiddling with the hem of his slightly oversized hoodie. “That’s a great idea,” you beamed, trying to seem reassuring since he seemed rather nervous, “Do you have anything special in mind?” “No, I really don’t but those roses you just put in the display window look very pretty, it’s what made me come in,” he said, motioning to where you had been fighting with the roses earlier. “Roses need a lot of attention though,” you warned him, walking over to where you had tucked the little bushes into a corner. “I have a lot of time and like a good challenge,” he answered, a grin tugging at his lips, a set of dimples just barely showing, “You’re bleeding by the way.” He added, gently touching your hand. Startled, you jerked away, heat licking at your cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, “But you should bandage that or it might get infected if something gets into the wound.” “Don’t worry, it’s not even that deep,” you concluded after examining the small cut on the back of your hand where you had lost the battle with one of the thorns. You quickly shot the man another smile that you hoped was reassuring.

“So do any of those roses look good to you?” “The pale orange ones look nice.” You couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “What’s so funny?” He asked, his beautiful brows drawn together in confusion. “The color is called peach,” you still giggled, grabbing the pot to show him the petals in the sunlight. “Well it is orange though,” he shrugged. “Men and colors,” you sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips, “You like them and want to try caring for them?” “Yeah, let’s try it. Anything I should look out for?” While walking up to the cash register and ringing him up, you briefly explained how to take care of the roses the best.

“I hope they brighten up your room a bit,” you smiled when he had paid. “The visit sure brightened up my day,” he replied smiling widely, the set of cute dimples reappearing on his cheeks. Before you could overcome your sudden shyness to reply anything, he had already wished you a good day and disappeared from the shop.  

After his visit, the man had crept back into your mind a couple of times. Every time you watered the little twin of the rose bush he had bought, it somehow reminded you of his sweet dimpled smile and his deep, soothing voice. You always scolded yourself when you noticed how you were spacing out, in fact watering the floor instead of the little rose bushes how you were supposed to. (You had been made fun of by a certain pink haired boy one too many times lately.) Your boss had just smiled knowingly and pressed a little bouquet with beautiful yellow Chrysanthemums in the middle, when you had closed up the shop, making your face heat up and furiously deny everything. But like always, the old lady knew you probably better than you knew yourself.

The second time the handsome stranger had visited the shop, he had been wearing a white turtle neck and a simple denim jacket, his hair pushed back with a dark blue hat. “Hello again,” he greeted you, gently smiling when he walked up to the counter where you were currently binding a bouquet with a couple of big purple hyacinths, “I’ll have a little look around. No need to hurry that.” Even though you tried to concentrate on arranging the flowers in the bouquet and picking smaller flowers that would look good with the big center piece, you kept glancing over to the man who was sniffing different flowers, quietly sneezing when he inhaled too deeply.

“Those are really pretty,” he said after he had not so subtly watched you work for a while from his place between the brightly colored geraniums while walking up to the counter. “The man who commissioned them paid a lot of money for them to look pretty,” you smiled, gently tucking smaller white flowers all around the big purple ones in the middle. “Does it mean anything? I’ve never seen this kind of flower,” he asked, seeming genuinely interested. “You’re interested in the language of flowers?” You asked, securely tying the bouquet together, placing them in a vase for the time being. “What languages would flowers speak?” The man asked, sounding genuinely confused. For a moment you could just stare at him, his dark brown eyes widened and his mouth slightly ajar, before you burst out in a fit of giggles. “Hey! What’s so funny?” He asked, trying to sound offended but he couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his lips. “They don’t speak any language, silly. The different types of flowers mean different things. I don’t know all of it but the owner of the shop has been teaching me some of it,” you explained to him. “Ooh, that makes a lot more sense,” he nodded, “What do those mean then?” “They’re hyacinths. The man told me he needed to apologize to his girlfriend. The purple ones stand for sorrow. I doubt she will notice though.” “Probably not,” he chuckled. “What did the rose mean I bought last time? The peach one?” “I’m not quite sure, I’ll ask my boss when she’s back. What brings you back here?” “Well,” he scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes, “I need a new plant, the rose was  kind of a lot more work than I thought it was.”

“Oh no.” You felt genuinely sad. You kind of had expected it not to go well but this was honestly a lot faster than you could have imagined. “I should have listened to you when you told me that they were a lot, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “But I really want to try to keep a plant alive. She looked really good for the time she was alive.” “She?” “Well I gave her a name.” You giggled again. “That’s really cute.” “Not as cute as you though.” It was suddenly so silent in the shop, the only noise the soft buzzing sound coming from the air-conditioning. You stared into the man’s eyes, expecting a his face to heat up in a similar fashion yours was, to see a blush creep up his face or his ears, but his face stayed perfectly pale, not a single blotch of color visible. But he had to be embarrassed as well if the way he was chewing on his lips was any sign. “I’m sorry, that just slipped,” he mumbled. “I… Shouldn’t you at least tell me your name before you start complimenting me like that?” You stuttered when you found your voice again. “Jaehyun,” he supplied, still awkwardly shuffling around, “It’s Jaehyun.” “Alright Jaehyun, let’s find you a new plant that’s not as easy to kill.

From that day onward Jaehyun came to the shop somewhat regularly, either announcing the death of yet another plant or telling you how they were on the brink of death and he didn’t know how it happened or what to do to save them. You were really close to either tell him to stick to bouquets or cacti but when you were being honest, you enjoyed his little visits. He’d stay longer and longer every time, telling you little stories about how he suspected that his roommates were secretly killing all the plants. In turn you told him about your boring life between your classes and your job. And sometimes you even taught him about the language of flowers while he was watching you put together a bouquet for yet another desperate boyfriend.

One visit in particular had stuck with you for some reason. Your whole day had just been bad: One of your professors had caught you slacking off in class and called you out in front of everyone, then at lunch a guy had run into you, making you drop half your food on the floor and then it had started to rain on your way to work. And if that wasn’t enough, the old lady hadn’t been feeling well because of the sudden change in weather and you had sent her off into her apartment that was above the shop, so she could rest. So now you were just alone in the shop, watching the people outside hurry past the shop with their umbrellas. When it was raining even less people were coming into the shop because you couldn’t put any plants outside that often lured people in. Sighing, you continued with the inventory that you had started out of boredom. Of course you also hadn’t brought any useful books, so you could have studied a little.

You must have been deep in thought, moping about how much this day sucked, that you didn’t hear the little bell on the door ringing. So when someone touched your arm to get your attention, you of course were startled and let out a small scream before you lost your balance on the stepladder that you had used to count the spare pots on a higher shelf. And if that wasn’t enough, you also pushed one of said pots down as well. But before you could even brace yourself for the fall, a strong arm had wrapped around you, saving you from crashing down onto the floor and possibly cracking your head open. When you opened your eyes, that you had screwed shut, you saw straight into Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes that were full of concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he spoke softly and you could feel how his voice rumbled in his chest from how close he was holding you to his body. “It’s alright, it’s my fault anyways. I wasn’t paying attention,” you sighed, slowly realizing in what kind of situation you and Jaehyun were in right now. His face was so close to yours that you could almost count every single one of his long, dark eyelashes. You could even see the faintest little blush spreading over his cheeks and your own face immediately felt hot as well.

Jaehyun just smiled and released you from his grip, gently setting the pot he somehow had managed to catch with his other hand back onto the shelf. He really must have incredible reflexes and obviously the most charming smile you had ever seen. “Don’t blame yourself, you don’t look too good today,” he spoke softly. “Wow thanks,” you sarcastically said, sighing theatrically while running your hands through your hair in an attempt to smooth it out, but probably messing it up further than it already was. “Hard day?” You snorted. Hard was an understatement. It sucked. But a little voice in the back of your head whispered that now that Jaehyun had come to visit you in the shop, it would get better. “You look like you could use a hug,” he smiled and opened his arms invitingly.

Before you could even think twice about it, you wound your arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly, burying your face in the soft fabric of his cardigan that he wore over one of his many turtlenecks. Chuckling, he grabbed the fabric and stretched it around you, so you were basically wrapped up in it against his chest, before wrapping you up in his strong arms. You were drowning in his by now familiar scent and the way his chest steadily rose and fell with his breath made all stress from your body slowly dissolve. “If you keep holding me like this I will cry,” you mumbled, trying to untangle yourself from him. “I don’t mind, you know? Sometimes you just have to cry to let all the stress out,” he assured you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Don’t say that, I will ugly cry in your shirt,” you hiccupped, “I barely know you.” “Oh I think you know me a lot better than a lot of people,” he smiled, “It’s an old shirt anyways.” “Liar, I’ve never seen you wear this before.” “You’re keeping track?” He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant by that,” you mumbled, feeling shy suddenly because how could you not keep track when he just effortlessly looked infuriatingly good every time he walked into the shop.

“You feeling better now?” Jaehyun gently asked after you two had fallen silent, just basking in each other’s presence. He gently tilted your head back from where you had buried it in his neck, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” you breathed, captivated by him. You had never noticed the tiny mole he had on one of his cheeks but you found it really endearing.   “Good,” he smiled, “I brought you coffee from the shop next door.” He motioned to the two cups he had placed on the counter next to the cash register. “You have a heart of gold Jaehyun,” you confessed, a smile slowly spreading on your lips and your heartbeat picking up. You kept the thought that he probably would also make the perfect boyfriend, to yourself. Not that it would matter, you were sure he didn’t see you like that. He just played it off, laughing awkwardly like he always did when he was embarrassed. (Coming to think of it, you really seemed to know him better than you had initially thought.) “Let’s drink it before it gets cold and you can tell me more about your day,” he offered and slowly loosened his arms around you. “Can you tell me about yours instead?” You asked with a small voice. “I’d rather forget all of this stupid day before you walked in here.” “Of course, darling,” he breathed. Your heart skipped a beat before doubling its pace when the pet name rolled of his tongue just like that. Maybe there was just the slightest little chance, he might consider you more than just the friend that worked in the flower shop that he had to visit to get advice on how to not kill his plants. Smiling you loosened your grip on him as well and you two sat down on the counter, dangling your legs and sipping the slightly cold coffee while you listened to Jaehyun ramble about the mess that were his flatmates. Until this day you hadn’t figured out how many people he actually lived with but you couldn’t help but smile at the little stories he told you. And even when he stopped talking, you just enjoyed the silence while watching the people outside. And maybe it was just your imagination but the umbrellas outside seemed just a little brighter with your head resting on Jaehyun’s broad shoulder.

“I’ve never noticed your whole tattoo thing that’s going on,” you said, motioning around your own neck when you came back from your fond memories of Jaehyun. “Yeah, I try to not let it show as much usually,” he replied, almost nervously playing with the collar of his leather jacket.   “Did it hurt a lot when you got it?” “Yeah, the skin is kind of tender around your neck,” he answered, his gaze not meeting your eyes but fixating a point right behind you. “You get that question a lot don’t you?” you gently asked, fingers itching to reach out to touch him. “Yeah, it’s all people talk about when they see it,” he shrugged, “I’m used to it by now.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “It’s fine,” Jaehyun reassured you, gently grazing his fingers over your exposed forearm, making goose bumps break out over your skin. “Yes, it did hurt. No I don’t regret it. Yes I probably can’t work a normal job if I’m not wearing a turtleneck. No, I didn’t get it in prison. It was done in a perfectly sanitary tattoo shop by a professional artist. No, I’m not a criminal”, he quickly addressed every typical question he apparently got about the tattoo in a single breath, a smile spreading on his lips, making his dimples appear and your heart beat faster.

“Glad to know I haven’t been talking to a criminal over the past few weeks even though you did kill an unholy amount of plants,” you giggled, checking again if the order was ready only to find Ten engrossed in a conversation with a group of young men that were sitting at the bar, his work forgotten. “Well I guess I am guilty of that,” Jaehyun pouted and it was weirdly endearing seeing him act playful like that with his dark and intimidating clothing. “So you’re not a criminal but a biker?” “Is that what you think our group is?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “That’s what everyone told me at least. And you do look the part.” “A couple of us do have bikes, but I don’t think that justifies the title. We’re just a,” he bit his tongue for a bit, “We’re just friends. Friends who like to dress in a lot of leather and black clothing.”

It seemed to be a somewhat touchy subject so you decided to not push any further. “You don’t need to explain it to me,” you smiled reassuringly, quickly squeezing his cold hand. “Jaehyun, stop flirting with my best waitress,” Kun teased, adding the little shot glasses to the second tray that completed the order. “I wasn’t flirting, I-“ but Jaehyun didn’t complete his apology when Kun shot him a knowing look and your face heated up on his behalf because Jaehyun didn’t blush like ever. “Stop making excuses and help her carry all this back to the table,” the barman grinned, returning to his work by pulling Ten back by the hairs on his neck from where he was still talking to the handsome customers sitting at the bar. “I would appreciate some help, that’s what Johnny came over for as well,” you tried to push past the awkwardness. “Like hell he was,” Jaehyun grumbled, grabbing the one of the trays maybe a tad too forceful than he needed to, the drinks almost spilling over. “Don’t be angry with him, he was being nice,” you consoled him, gently petting his leather clad arm (wasn’t he warm in that thick jacket?). “I saw just how nice he was being,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders, “He’s such a goddamn flirt.” “Nothing happened Jaehyun,” you tried one last time, looking into his dark eyes, getting lost in the seemingly bottomless obsidian.

Only the thud of the heavy entrance door made you snap out of it and you quickly turned to grab the second tray. You hadn’t even noticed how you had gravitated towards Jaehyun, it was like his eyes had hypnotized you. “Need another pair of helping hands?” A familiar voice asked and Johnny strode over towards you two again, now with an energetic bounce in his step, his red lips curved into a smile. “We’ve got it,” Jaehyun answered, scrunching his nose as if he had smelled something bad before taking a deep breath. “Don’t wait too long, Jaehyun,” the taller said, his tone suddenly stern and his brows furrowed. “I can handle it, Johnny,” Jaehyun gritted out, shoving past the taller man to make his way over to the table where their friends were still waiting for their drinks. Sighing, you followed him back to the table. It was weird how different he was behaving with his friends around. You had never expected to meet him in any place outside of your job at the flower shop and much less in a place like this. The soft man who liked to wear denim jackets seemed to be buried beneath the heavy leather jacket.

“Here’s your drinks,” you smiled when you put the tray down to distribute the drinks. “You’re not drinking with us?” A blonde man with a scratch in his eyebrow asked when everyone had picked up their shot glasses. “It’s my first day, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you politely declined his offer. “I’m sure Ten and Kun won’t mind,” he grinned, lifting up his own glass to hand it over to you. “She said no, didn’t you hear, Yuta?” Jaehyun growled and shot his friend a dark look. Unfazed by his behavior, the blonde - Yuta - shrugged his shoulders before drowning his shot himself, not grimacing in the slightest even though the liquid had a questionable amount of alcohol in it, judging by the numbers that had been printed on the label. “But I’m sure we can treat you to something else,” he spoke, before shifting in his seat so his poorly buttoned sleeveless shirt fell open even further, revealing smooth skin that stretched over lean muscles and a promise of something metal hidden beneath. “I-“, you stuttered. What were you supposed to reply to something like that? “You’re shameless,” one of his dark haired friends chuckled, a silver chain glistening in the light when he shook his head. “It’s called confidence,” Yuta defeated himself. “Still shameless,” another one agreed, a grin on his face. “He hasn’t had a good lay in a while, don’t mind him,” Taeyong cut in, shooting you a reassuring smile. “Certainly not because I didn’t had any offers, I’m just picky,” Yuta tried to defend himself, looking scandalized. You just giggled when the other’s started picking on him. You noticed that Jaehyun didn’t join in but his posture was more relaxed than it had been before. You really wanted to thank him for defending your choice to not drink but now didn’t seem appropriate. Silently you collected the now empty shot glasses and picked the trays back up. “I’ll be back to check in with you later then,” you smiled before walking back to the counter after checking in with a couple of other tables.

The rest of the night went down in a blur safe for the one occasion where the slender Ten indeed threw out one of the customers that couldn’t hold his liquor anymore and had fallen when he had tried to walk over to the bar to order more because Lucas had already refused to bring him any more drinks. The times when you had checked in on the 127 table, Yuta had still flirted with you only to be either shot down by Jaehyun or Taeyong. You had also noticed that over the course of the night one or two of them would always leave the bar for a couple of minutes before coming back inside with a new energy and a faint blush on their cheeks. You didn’t know what they did out there but you really hoped they didn’t do drugs or anything like that. They didn’t seem as intoxicated as the other customers no matter how much they ordered. If anything Mark was getting giggly after he had come back inside but that was pretty much everything. They all must have incredible tolerance for alcohol.

When the night died down and more and more customers were leaving, Kun waved you over to tell you that you had been a great help and he would be more than happy to see you again tomorrow for your next shift. You had beamed at him and promised to do your best. “I’m sure you will. Thank you for today, I think Lucas and I can handle the remaining customers,” he told you. “What’s with Ten?” You asked. You hadn’t seen him in a while. Kun just sighed and motioned to the 127 table where Ten comfortably sat on Johnny’s lap, the taller carding through the blonde’s hair that he had freed from the little ponytail. “Are they a thing?” You were confused. Johnny hadn’t been subtle about his flirting earlier. “No one really knows,” Kun groaned, suddenly seeming very irritated, “It’s been happening more lately but last week he went home with Taeyong as far as I remember.” “Oh…” “Don’t think about it too much. I want to say that he knows what he’s doing but that would mean that he’s actually using his brain.” Somehow you thought that he sounded sad. “Just tell Ten that you like him, Kun,” Lucas groaned, running a hand through his by now messy platinum hair. “I don’t like him,” the elder gritted out, violently cleaning glasses and slamming them onto a rack to dry. “Sure and I’ve never thought about making out with any of your roommates,” Lucas teased him. “You have what?” “Never mind I said that,” Lucas mumbled, his ears turning red, before he made a beeline to one of his tables.

You chuckled quietly. “I think he’s fond of you as well,” you softly spoke after Kun had thrown another longing look at Ten who was busy admiring the eagle tattoo on Johnny’s chest. “You don’t need to console me, but I appreciate it,” he smiled but it didn’t quiet reach his eyes, “I came to accept him how he is.” “You should at least try to shoot you shout though, don’t you think?” You tried again, stepping closer to the barman to help him clean the last glasses. He sighed deeply. “I’ve known Ten for too long now, I know he won’t suddenly become monogamous just because I tell him that I might not dislike him as much as I sometimes say.” “You can never know for sure, people do crazy stuff because of love,” a deep voice joined the conversation and Jaehyun sat down on the barstool in front of Kun and you, throwing you a quick smile. “He’s right,” you smiled, briefly squeezing Kun’s hand. “If I say that I’ll think about it, will you leave it alone for now?” You eagerly nodded, looking up at Jaehyun to see if he was doing the same. Instead a smirk played on his lips. “If you give me my drinks for free, I’ll even tell Johnny to not take Ten home tonight,” he grinned, holding up his card between two fingers. “You’re paying for everyone?” Kun just gritted out, snatching the card from the other’s fingers. Jaehyun’s grin widened before he nodded. “Isn’t that going to be a lot of money?” You asked worriedly. You had never asked but assumed Jaehyun must be a student like you, so paying the whole bill for nine men (well eight if Kun was giving Jaehyun his own drinks for free) was a lot. “I lost at rock paper scissors,” he shrugged, “Are you done with your shift?”

“She is,” Kun cut in, smacking the credit card back onto the bartop, “Tell Johnny to send him home, I’m not feeding his cats again because they’re screaming for food.” “Sure. That’s the only reason,” Jaehyun joked, pocketing his card with a grin. Kun didn’t answer, instead leaving you two alone to wipe some empty tables. “Are you going home alone?” “It’s not far from here,” you reassured the dark haired man. “I’ll walk you. You shouldn’t go alone this late.” “Only if it’s not a bother for you…” “Keeping you safe is never a bother for me,” he smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you barely suppressed a shiver from how cold his hands were against your heated face. “I’ll tell the other’s not to wait for me and will wait outside for you,” he softly spoke before turning to walk out the door where his friends apparently had already left.

You quickly gathered your things and sorted out your tips from the rest of the money, putting everything back into the place that Lucas had shown you before disappearing into the staff room to stuff the money into your designated tip jar, so Lucas and you could share your tips with Ten and Kun. While you were quickly trying to fix your hair in the small mirror a very grumpy looking Ten joined you, groaning loudly. You had to suppress your smile. Jaehyun really had convinced Johnny to not take Ten home. “Men are trash, honey,” the blonde suddenly spoke, “Don’t fall for any of them.” “Did you get dumped?” You tried to act like you didn’t exactly knew what must have happened. “Can’t get dumped if you aren’t dating,” Ten chirped, smoothing out a wrinkle in his silky blouse, “But something similar.” “I’m sorry.” “No need to be darling, I’ll just annoy Kun a little more, maybe he’ll actually pop a vein these days,” he giggled mischievously. “Be nice to him, he seems like an actual sweetheart,” you said while slipping on your jacket and picking up your bag. “He is, darling. But where’s the fun in that?” Ten held the door open for you and followed you back to the main room. “Be safe on your way home.” “Jaehyun is waiting outside for me,” you admitted, suddenly feeling shy under Ten’s intense gaze. “So that’s why Johnny wouldn’t take me with him,” he grinned. “No, no that’s not it. He just offered to walk me home,” you stuttered to explain yourself. It wasn’t like what Ten thought it was, right? Oh god. Not that Jaehyun was expecting anything now. He just had asked to walk you home though. Was it a code word for something you didn’t know? “I’m sure he only has the most noble motives,” the barkeeper snickered, “Go, don’t let prince charming wait for too long.” With that he waved you off, walking over to where Kun was wiping a table to drape his body over the other’s back, probably complaining about being dumped. But Kun didn’t seem to mind a whole lot, judging by the smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

After you had barely escaped Xuxi’s suffocating goodbye hug, you stepped outside into the cold night, taking a deep breath. It was quiet for a Friday night but that might have just been the time. Worried you looked around when you couldn’t see Jaehyun’s broad figure anywhere. Did he ditch you? That didn’t seem like him. Curious you looked into the little ally beside the bar where the dumpsters were. At first you couldn’t make out anything in the dark but when your eyes had adjusted, you could make out a figure, no two, in the dark. One of them was wearing a familiar leather jacket with way too many buckles and straps to be convenient. The man was clinging to the second, unmoving figure and the whole scene made Goosebumps break out all over your body.

“J-Jaehyun?” you stuttered, your bag falling from your shoulder, landing on the concrete with a soft thud. As if he was electrocuted, the man with the dark clothes shoved the limp body he was holding onto just a second ago away from him, but no sound left the other man’s lips, nor did his facial expression change in any way. “I can explain this,” Jaehyun said, his lips a deep red and smeared with what seemed to be blood and eyes wide, tinted a bright crimson. You felt a shiver run down your spine, the scream that had been stuck in your throat threatening to spill now. But before it could rip free, a palm was pressed over your lips and your body collided with Jaehyun’s solid frame. “Please don’t scream,” he whispered in your ear which made all the hairs on your neck stand up. What was happening? Why was there blood on Jaehyun? Has his eyes changed color? How did he get across to you within the blink of an eye? What was with the other person? In a panic, your eyes scanned the alleyway and another muffled scream ripped from your throat when you saw that the man was still unmoving even though he was bleeding from a wound in his neck. “Please,” Jaehyun begged, his voice sounding strained, “Let me explain this, don’t hate me.” Being pressed so close to him, you couldn’t help but notice that his chest wasn’t moving in the slightest like it should if he was breathing. What was happening? Panic began to rise inside you and you felt like you were suffocating, your lungs not getting enough oxygen with Jaehyun’s palm pressed over your mouth. Panicking, you grabbed his wrist and let your nails dig into his skin, but the skin didn’t break. Desperate, you tried to get more air into your lungs, meeting his eyes in a silent plea. “Please don’t scream,” Jaehyun repeated firmly before he slowly freed your mouth, but kept holding you close.

You heaved a couple of heavy breaths, feeling the panic slowly disappear but your heart kept beating furiously, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you dizzy. “Let me take care of this and I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Jaehyun spoke once your breathing had somewhat evened out. “I’ll release you now, don’t run away.” Your voice was still lost somewhere, so you just nodded. After confirming with a nod himself, he slowly uncurled from you and walked over to the other man who was still in a daze, staring straight ahead. “You will walk home now and not remember anything that happened from the moment you saw me approach you,” Jaehyun spoke to him, looking into his eyes intensely and if your own eyes weren’t playing a trick on you, Jaehyun’s eyes had turned a bright crimson color. He leaned into the other man again where his neck was still bleeding and when the man turned to leave and walk away, the area was clean. Instead Jaehyun’s lips were smeared with blood that he quickly wiped into his shirt. “What the fuck, Jaehyun?” You whispered, your voice sounding raw as if you hadn’t spoken in hours.

“I can explain this,” he repeated again, turning his palms towards you in surrender when he walked back over. “How can you explain this? You- That- That man was straight up hypnotized and behaved like an actual puppet. And that blood. This is crazy. I’m dreaming. That’s it right? Or someone must have slipped me something in the bar and I’m tripping right now. Because this looks an awful lot like you just sucked that guy’s blood like you’re a vampire and that’s crazy. Vampires aren’t real. And I’ve seen you walk around in the middle of the day. But then again, your hands are always cold and I couldn’t even scratch you with my nails and you have mad reflexes,” you started to spiral, the words just falling from your lips. “Hey, take a breath. A deep breath, here,” Jaehyun softly spoke, gently taking your hands and pressing the palms on his chest, taking a deep breath himself.   Even though you tried to breathe with him to calm down, you couldn’t help but notice that his fingers weren’t as cold as they had been before and that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat despite the fact that your palm was sitting right over his heart, just separated by his thin black shirt from the skin. “You… You don’t have a heartbeat,” you whispered, your eyes searching his that were a perfectly normal deep brown shade now while you pressed your palms down on his chest harder. “I don’t,” he spoke carefully, scanning your features for any changes, “I haven’t had one for a while.” “You aren’t breathing right now.” “I don’t need to. I keep forgetting.” “You… You’re forgetting to breathe?” “I usually do when I’m around humans but sometimes I forget.” “You say that as if you’re not…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, it was too absurd. “As if I’m not human myself? I’m not. Not anymore.” “Then what are you?” “You’ve said it before, I’m a vampire,” he confessed.

“A vampire…” You repeated dumbfounded. It made sense, everything was adding up but this couldn’t be the explanation. Vampires were just made up. “And the others are too, they’re my coven. That’s why I didn’t want Johnny to talk to you.” “Would he have..?” Your eyes widened and one of your hands flew to your neck, covering where your pulse was fluttering beneath the skin. “I’m not going to hurt you, I could never,” Jaehyun whispered when he saw the fear in your eyes, gently cupping your face as if to prove his point. “I like you way too much to hurt you. And I won’t let anyone of the others even lay a finger on you.” Your eyes immediately flew to his lips that were still stained red when he leaned in even closer so you would be able to feel his breath mingling with yours if he was breathing. “I really want to kiss you right now, is that stupid?” The vampire whispered. “Don’t hurt me,” you whispered back, letting your eyes fall shut. “I could never,” he breathed before brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss that send sparks through your whole body. When Jaehyun felt you relax against him, your fingers uncurling from his shirt, he kissed you again, firmer this time, wrapping his arms tight around you as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

When you felt your head start to get light, you gently tapped his strong chest and he immediately retreated, looking at you with a worried expression. “One of us still needs to breathe,” you giggled breathless. “I’m sorry,” he smiled, carding his fingers through your hair, just watching you breathe for a moment, losing himself in your eyes.

“I have another secret to tell you,” Jaehyun broke the silence, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “I don’t think you can shock me anymore,” you smiled back. “I didn’t actually kill any of the plants I bought. I just needed to have a reason to keep seeing you. Our house looks like a jungle.” You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning into his (not moving) chest that rumbled with his low chuckle. “You’re cute,” you smiled, snaking your arms around his waist below his jacket, somehow not even missing the warmth that bodies usually gave off. “Shut up,” he chuckled, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “You want to know something else?” You whispered into his chest after a while. The vampire just hummed, gently swaying you. “I looked up what the rose meant that you bought when you first came into the shop… You wanna know what it stands for?” Jaehyun hummed again. “It stands for immortality.” This time it was Jaehyun who was laughing, holding your body tighter to steady himself.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Two. Keep the Tip

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

SERIES MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST | chapter word count: 8.5k

chapter warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, smut

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True to his word, Harry came back the following day to start his official first day.

After a night of pondering and overthinking his decision, he came to the conclusion that it might be a fun journey along the way. He had no clue who he would meet, and he learned that he needed to make some connections if he wanted to continue acting. That’s what it was all about, right? Meet the right people and you’ll get your foot in the door.

It was hard always trying to get an audition or even a screen test. So, if this job, working at a candy shop and fucking people for money will help him, then he’ll take it. And besides, he needed to pay rent by the end of the week.

His dreams were high, he knew that. It was going to be a long process to get what he wants, and is he okay with that? For now, he is. Not everything will be handed to him on a silver platter, he knows that, and his looks could only get him so far if they think he’s a bad actor. But he wanted it bad. He’ll wait as long as possible to get what he wants, and if that means working at a candy shop before reaching his dreams, then it’ll be worth it in the end.

He took a deep breath as he stood in front of the store, putting out his cigarette for just a few puffs as he tried to calm himself. After a few minutes as nerves creeped up his skin, he fixed the knot of his sparkly top and put out his cigarette before walking in

“Ah, hey, kid. I’m glad you came back,” Daren said, puffing out smoke from his cigar once he saw Harry enter. He immediately walked beside him to put an arm around his shoulder. “Ready for this?” Harry didn’t say anything but nod. “Perfect. Just rearrange the containers for now, and chill out. Could feel you shaking with nerves. I’ll call you when it’s time,” Daren patted his shoulder, trying to get Harry to calm down.

“Okay,” Harry replied and Daren walked away. “Hey,” he called out, his boss turning around. “Thank you—for giving me a second chance.”

“You got it, kid,” Daren smiled, placing his cigar bag into his mouth. “It’d be a shame to let you walk away,” he said as Harry started reorganizing the containers.

It was nearing 4 p.m and it’s been some exhausting and slow hours. He’s watched his coworkers help customers bag their candy and he’s heard the customers say the famous phrase going on around here. All while, stocking and sorting the jars, he saw them walk out with a lady or man with their arm slung loosely around them as they gave them flirty smirks. He wondered if the customers were regulars because everyone was just way too comfortable for it to be their first time in the shop, unless people are just usually like that, which he admires.

But so far, Daren hadn’t called Harry to help a customer out; just let him stay in the back or on the sides as he heard Daren call the rest and not him. Throughout working, Harry thought that he probably forgot about him. Forgot about the kid who didn’t want to do their job right on their actual first day, so he was taking it easy on him. But Harry really needed the money, and he heard from Jimmy that he would make even more if a customer takes you away from work. But Harry’s grateful for even having a job that pays, but he would like to make more just so he knows he’s secure.

After feeling like his day was over, wiping down the counters and the spaces between the jars, Daren suddenly called him.

“Harry! Get over here,” he called out. Harry turned around and walked over to him, seeing Daren standing in front of the most gorgeous woman he’s seen in his life. “Harry will take care of you,” he told the lady before walking away.

“H-Hi. I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, stuttering a bit as he’s quite taken back at how beautiful you are. You were wearing a red tube top along with a skirt that went below your knees, and a big belt to secure your skirt. Your hair was in a low bun as it was sleek with no flyaways.

You blushed, sensing his nerves but also realizing that he’s quite attractive himself--too attractive as you were trying to focus on the candy rather than his face. You loved his outfit, thinking how good he pulled it off along with his effortless looking curly hair. His smile is what got to you, making your stomach flutter as he showed off his dimpled smile.

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” you replied, introducing yourself as well before roaming the aisles of candy.

“How can I help you? We have, uh, boxed candies or I can bag some up for you,” he said, following you. Your hand reached for the bags, but Harry beat you to it. “Oh! I’ll do the bags,” he said in a bit of a rushed tone.

Harry opened the candy bag a bit flustered as he didn’t expect you to as well. Your hands touched in the most delicate and innocent way, but were immediately pulled back from the unexpected touch. A soft smile was present on your face, and you looked up to find the same smile on Harry’s.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were supposed to get the bag for me.”

“Yeah, we baggage everything for you here. Don’t have to lift that finger of yours.”

“Good to know,” you said slyly since you already knew as you just wanted to feel his hand against yours even if it was for a little bit.

“Uh, so what can I get you?” Harry asked.

“I’m out of lollipops, so those would be nice,” you told him, walking over to the container carrying all the lollipops.

“Any particular flavor?” Harry asked, opening the container.

“Particularly strawberry. Seven to be exact,” you said.

“Seven? Lucky number?” He raised his brows at you, picking specifically the strawberry lollies.

“Not really. Just need them to last me throughout the week,” you smiled at him, teeth and all. He instantly realized that you had the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. The way it just fits so perfectly with your gleaming eyes is enough to make his heart flutter.

“Seven it is. Anything else?” You looked around the shop, trying to find something that’ll interest your sweet tooth. He saw you purse your lips as you looked around before you met eyes with him.

“By any chance… do you sell cloud nines here?” You asked softly, smirking a bit as you wanted the words only to be heard by Harry.

Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear those words from you. He cleared his throat and pulled his collar, feeling like he couldn’t breathe or think straight. With a scratch to his head, he replied, “Yes. We do in fact. How about I ring you up first?”

“Sounds lovely.” You followed him to the register, taking out a $5 bill before handing it to him. “Keep the change,” you told him, seeing the lollies were only fifty cents.

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you,” he said, putting the rest of the change in the tip jar.

“You’re welcome. Shall we?” You smiled, and he nodded, the candy bag still in his hand as he walked around the counter and followed you outside to your car.

Fishing out for your keys in your purse, you stood in front of a pink Mercedes convertible, and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“This is your car?” He asked, checking your baby out. Your head turned up, smiling at his admiration for your car.

“Like it?” You asked, and he looked at you completely.

“Love it. She’s a beauty,” he said, smirking. Your cheeks were reddening as the tone of your car as you giggled a tad bit.

“That she is. This is Rosie. Hop in,” you get into the driver seat, and he excitedly opened the door and got in.

“Comfy,” he said, pressing on the leather seat. You put on your pink square sunglasses that are dazzled on the edges, and turned your head towards him as he got a feel of your car.

“Ready?” You asked with a smile on your face, excited for the events that are about to take place.

“Let’s go.”

The drive from Sunset to the Beverly Hills Hotel only took about 10 minutes. You and Harry talked about random things that didn’t include yourselves, but rather the weather, traffic, and restaurants.

Harry thought it was nice talking to someone other than Daren or Mikey. He hadn’t really made friends his whole year of living in Los Angeles, but believe it or not, he was a shy person. He sometimes doesn’t know how to handle awkward situations because he doesn’t talk all that much, so he would hate for things to get silent between him and a person and not know what to say.

But luckily, you love to talk. You talk a good amount, but you also know when to stop talking, which is a good quality to have. You think before you speak, and you keep your thoughts to yourself because you have many thoughts about people and things, which you know they’re words they'd rather not hear.

You pulled into the valet driveway of the hotel, and Harry’s immediately in awe. He’s never been to the Beverly Hills Hotel before, even though it was pretty close, but he thought it was like paradise. The palm trees everywhere, the green and white striped ceiling, and the pink exterior. He’s never seen anything like it.

“Please, take care of her. Park her in the very back if you have to where there’s no cars around. Please?” You told the valet guy, using your soft and innocent voice along with your puppy eyes. The guy nodded multiple times, telling you that he would take very good care of her car. So, you handed him your keys and walked around the car to meet Harry.

“This place is…” he trailed off.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” You finished for him as you smiled at his delight for the hotel. He nodded, smiling back at you.

You and Harry walked inside the lobby, and as Harry looked up and around, taking in the hotel, you were already headed towards the stairs.

As you were walking up, Harry noticed that you were far ahead of him, making his fast walk to walk behind you.

“I’m only on the second floor, so I hope you don’t mind the stairs.” You had checked into the hotel before you got to Sweetland, not wanting to wait in line to check into the room when you have company.

“That’s completely fine,” he said back, trying his hardest not to look at your hips swaying as you took every step up the stairs.

Once you finally got to your room, you unlocked the door, with the key they gave you, with shaky hands. And Harry’s right there with you, anxiousness running through his body as he continuously messes with his hair—a habit when he’s nervous.

The room was an average size room. You didn’t see the point in spending so much for a suite on the top floor when this was only going to be for a little while. Plus, you only needed a bed and a bathroom, and you were good to go.

“Would you like some champagne?” You offered, walking over to the table that had glasses and a bottle of Piper Brut Champagne.

“Uh, okay, sure,” he stumbled over his words, cursing at himself to get it together. He’s obviously never done this before—have sex with someone for money, and he’s trying to tell himself that this was just like a one night stand, just exclude the money part then he’ll be fine.

You handed him the champagne glass, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip as you sat down on the cushioned bench at the front of the bed. You were sitting on the edge as Harry sat on the other edge, both not sure if you should sit any closer even though the night will end in being very close to one another.

“So, Harry…” you started, looking down at your glass.

“Yes, love?” Your head perked up at the pet name, blushing a bit.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m-”

“I mean, if you want to answer that! Don’t feel the need to answer anything I ask,” you interrupted, nervously, and Harry chuckled at your cuteness.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask me anything. But I’m originally from England, but I moved to New York when I was a kid, and now I’m here.”

“Where from in England?” You asked curiously.

“Manchester. And when I was about 13, we moved to Brooklyn,” he told you.

“Wow. You’ve been everywhere,” you chuckled lightly.

“Almost.”

“Why did you move to LA?” You asked suddenly.

“I want to become an actor. I’ve been trying to get auditions and whatnot, but so far, that hasn’t been working for me, so that’s why I’m working at Sweetland,” he explained. You only nodded your head, and Harry slightly panicked, wondering why you weren’t saying anything. He was thinking it was because you felt pity for him; he had big dreams and you probably thought that those dreams were hard to even accomplish.

There was a silence that fell between you two as you sipped the champagne and figured out to go about this.

“I think that’s really cool--wanting to become an actor. And it’s admirable that you’re very determined to; I can see it in your eyes that you really want to achieve your dreams, and it’s even more admirable that you’re willing to work side jobs in order to get to where you want to be,” you nodded your head slightly, as you continued speaking. “A lot of people who want to become actors simply just focus on acting, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just hard to make it in the industry y’know? They act cocky and flaunt and brag about it, but that kind of attitude is going to get them nowhere. I know it first hand.” Harry was going to ask how you knew it first hand as he was wondering if you were also wanting to become an actor.

“How-”

“But you…you’re completely different from them, I could tell. You’re nice and you’re a gentleman, and you tell others your dreams and aspirations, and how you’re trying to just make it, and I really like that about you,” you tell him.

Harry is completely speechless. He’s never had someone tell him those words before other than himself, and it felt so nice to hear them coming out of your mouth. There was a certain reassurance he felt from you when you told him that--like he believed them, and he was sure he was going to use those words to keep him going, until he makes it to where he wants to be.

“Listen, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’ll still pay so you get paid fairly, but-” you suddenly say, and Harry interrupts you.

“What makes you think I don’t?” He asked. His brain was overthinking a mile a minute, and he thought the worst.

“You’re a really nice guy, and I know you don’t mean any harm. I didn’t really expect seeing you, but when I did, I just wanted to get to know you and talk to you, and maybe some other stuff, but if you don’t want to then that’s fine too,” you told him honestly. You’ve always been one for telling the truth and not holding back on what you really want to say.

“I do. I really do want to do this,” he said, and you nodded, not saying anything else after. “So…how should we do this?” Harry asked, nervously, but once the words came out of his mouth, he immediately closed it, rolling his eyes at himself for asking that kind of question.

But luckily, you didn’t think anything of it. You softly chuckled, gaining the confidence you knew you had, and you shifted your position to sit on your side as your right arm was placed on the edge of the bed next to you. “How about you kiss me first?” You said seductively.

Harry moved closer to you and leaned forward as he spoke, nerves out the window. “Where do you want me to kiss you?” His voice was raspy and low, triggering your arousal.

“I want you to start off by kissing my hand, all the up to shoulder, and then my neck, continuing on my face, and then I’ll decide if you can kiss my lips,” you teased, looking at him with dark eyes, completely capturing him under your spell. “Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” he smirked, and you gave him your hand. He held it for a second, feeling the softness of your skin as his thumb caressed it.

With one kiss to the back of your hand, he started making his way up your arm, leaving soft kisses slowly, but surely, wanting to intensify the feeling you had. He finally made it to your shoulder, leaving many along it.

You expected him to kiss up your neck already, but he took a detour and kissed along your collarbones and proceeded to your other shoulder as your head was thrown back.

Your breathing was deep, trying to contain your moans from the feeling of his lips. With your legs completely shut as you relaxed, you slowly circulated your head with your eyes shut as he placed his kisses across your neck. He moved up a bit to your jaw and to your cheeks and to your forehead as you didn’t dare open your eyes, but rather take in the feeling.

“Was that good?” He asked. You opened your eyes slowly, meeting him as he smirked, noticing how much you were enjoying it.

“Really good. But you didn’t follow my instructions.” He raised his brows in confusion. “You took a different little route to my neck,” you told him and his mouth formed an ‘O’, realizing that.

“Did you like it though?” He challenged.

“I mean…yeah,” you smiled, trying not to burst out in laughter at yourself.

“So, do I deserve a kiss?” He asked—more like he subtly tried to beg, wanting to feel your plump lips against his.

You dramatically sighed, “I guess so. After all, it did feel good.”

Harry learned in closer, foreheads and noses touching each other. It seemed like he was waiting for you to tell him to kiss you already, so you did the pleasure in doing it yourself, molding your lips with his. The taste of cigarettes and sweet candy of his lips onto yours, and bubblegum galore on his.

It was everything he wanted in a kiss with you. With only knowing you for a good 25 minutes, he was imagining how you would feel against him. How your lips would feel on him. And he wasn’t disappointed whatsoever. Plus, the sexual tension between you two was very, very high.

One hand found his curls as the other was placed on the back of his neck, somehow pulling him closer to you. Harry’s hands roam your back and trail down your thighs, but he didn’t feel much since you had clothes on.

“Can I touch you?” You whispered out, asking him.

“Yes, god, yes,” he pleaded.

Your hand raked down to the front of his trousers, feeling his hard bulge in your hand as you fondled what you could feel. He was big; there was no doubt about that and the thought made you wetter, even if you hadn’t seen him bare yet. Harry whimpered into your mouth, to which you stuck your tongue into his. As your tongue meets his, a shock ran through you causing shivers to run down your spine as you felt the slick feeling of his tongue playing with yours.

You pulled back, breathlessly, and Harry opened his eyes. You noticed his flushed state; lips swollen and cheeks pink. It was a sight you found so endearing, and you wanted to keep kissing him for the hell of it, but you also wanted more.

“Undress me,” you told him. He nodded, placing a peck to your lips as he began to unbuckle the big belt on your waist. Once he got that off, he unzipped your skirt, pulling it down swiftly as his jaw dropped as he saw that you were wearing a black lace corset under your outfit as they hooked onto your stockings, along with black panties.

“Holy fuck,” he said in awe, quickly taking your top off to see your lingerie fully. You smirked at him, loving his reaction to your new lingerie. “God, you’re a fuckin’ sight,” he said, kissing the top of your breasts as he reached behind you to untie your corset. You looked down, wanting to see how his kisses meet your skin, and it was the most fond thing you’ve ever seen while he tries to untie your corset.

When he finally was able to get it off, he slowly peeled the corset off of you, revealing your bare breasts. “W-Wow,” he stuttered out.

“Like what you see?” You asked.

“Beyond like,” he said, mouth attaching to one of your nipples, swirling and sucking on it before moving to the other one, earning a whimper from your mouth. He then kisses down to your stomach and to the hem of your underwear, looking up at you. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes. Take it all off,” you breathed out. He unclipped the clips from your stocking before dragging your panties down your legs, fully showing yourself.

“Think I’m gonna leave this one on,” he said, looking up at you as he referred to your black stockings. You looked down at him, smirking slightly before nodding.

“You like them don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to get a taste of ya,” he said, pecking your inner thighs. You were aching, wanting to just feel him right where you want to just to relieve some pressure.

“Lick me already. Stop teasing and just eat me out,” you said, whimpering but also somewhat sternly. Harry glanced up at you, smirking before pressing one last kiss to your thigh and taking one long stripe up your wet core.

“Oh my,” you gasped, grabbing into a handful of his curls, causing him to moan slightly.

Harry focuses his licks onto your clit, aiming the tip of his tongue onto the tip of your clit. Your upper body is thrown back onto the edge of the bed.

“You taste so good,” he said, looking up to find you sprawled out. You were practically dripping, and you wanted more—needed more.

With his fingers, he rubs your slit before entering them inside of you, feeling your wetness. He fingers curl up into you; the softness of your walls being tortured by his fingers made you moan out.

“So, so good.”

“Yeah? God, so tight around my fingers. Not sure you’re gonna handle my cock,” he teased, making you get up from your sprawled out position, giving him a look.

“Don’t think I can handle your cock? Not sure you can handle me in general,” you gave him a testing look. Harry chuckled, fingers still in you as he thrusted them in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. You tried maintaining your composure, looking down at him as he tried testing you.

“Okay, whatever you say, princess,” he said, testing out the new pet name for you.

“Don’t call me that,” you cringed.

Well, I guess that’s a no then, Harry thinks.

“What do you want me to call you then?” He takes a lick to your clit. “Huh, baby?” He felt you tense up, and he’s not sure if it’s the nickname or if you’re close already. But he thinks it’s the nickname. And it is; you never really liked the nickname baby, and Chris used to call you that as well.

“No,” you managed to get out, feeling on edge as he continues fucking you with his fingers and licks your clit.

“Okay. How about darling?” He said, taking another lick, but this time, he sucks it into his mouth, making your back arch more.

“Nope,” you said. Harry frowned a bit, loving that nickname. He takes his fingers out and the smell of your arousal on his fingers makes him even harder. Lifting his fingers, he tapped your lips, to which you opened and took them in your mouth, swirling your tongue around and tasting yourself.

Harry continued to lick your pussy, bringing you to your high as he licks around your hole, and indulging in your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. Yes,” you moaned. Your chest was heaving up and down, trying to catch your breath from being on edge to your orgasm.

Harry kissed up to your lips, leaving wet kisses along your skin. Once his lips met yours, you clung onto him; legs around his waist and arms around his torso as he lifted you up to lay on the bed. You tasted yourself on his tongue, a mixture of sweet and a tinge of saltiness as yours and Harry’s tongue swirl around each other.

“Mmm. Sweet, sweet girl,” he said between kisses, and you moaned against his lips, pulling back for a bit as he was confused, but you looked him in the eye.

“That. Call me that.”

Harry smirked, finally able to call you something other than your name. “Yeah? My sweet girl likes that name?” You bit your lip as you smiled, loving the way he says it. It wasn’t like the other pet names people called you, and you liked that, especially when it came from Harry.

“Strip for me?” You asked, realizing he was still fully clothed in his work uniform when you were fully naked. “Wanna see you.”

Harry smiled, getting off of you and the bed as he stood in front of you. You laid on your side, propping an elbow up as you watched him slowly untie his pussybow. As much as you loved his outfit, you wanted to see it off.

When Harry revealed his bare upper body, throwing his top to the side, you softly gasped. He had a few tattoos on his body; the swallows on his chest, a butterfly on his stomach, ferns on his lower stomach, and a few on his upper arm. You were amazed to say the least as you’ve never hooked up with someone who had tattoos nor had you really seen them on someone’s body since rarely anyone you interact with has tattoos of their own. But seeing them on Harry’s body made you think of how beautiful he made them out to be and how lovely it looks on him.

Harry then took his white trousers off, and finally his pants, which felt like a relief for him because he was painfully hard under the restriction.

You gulped, breath hitched in your throat as you took him in. You already knew he was bigger than all the other guys you’ve slept with, but fuck, his body.

“You’re…so beautiful,” you said. It slipped out of your mouth, but you were in no way ashamed of what came out because Harry blushed and softly smiled at you.

You were both fully naked, you on your side and Harry standing in front of you. There were no signs of discomfort; no shying away from each other as neither of you made the move to cover yourselves up. It was like admiring each other’s body in the fullest; taking each other in as you both stay bare in front of your eyes.

“Fuck me. Please,” you said, not being able to wait any longer, and you were itching under his stare as it turned you on even more.

“Okay, okay,” he said, bending down as he retrieved a condom from his pocket that Daren always had a jar of them at the shop, and made everyone get as many as they’d like before leaving with a customer. He ripped the foiled packaging open before slowly rolling the condom around his dick, and getting on the bed between your legs.

He licked his thumb before placing it on your clit and rubbing it; the sensitivity from your orgasm was still present as you whimpered, bringing your hips up, to which he brought down.

“Get inside of me already,” you said sternly, looking at him as you said so. “I mean it. I want to feel you already.”

Harry said nothing but smirk, grabbing his cock and running it up and down your slit, collecting your wetness to lube his wrapped dick before pushing in you. You gasped when you felt his tip inside of you, and fully moaned when you felt him whole. Harry groaned as he placed his arms on both sides of you, keeping himself up as he started to thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” he said. Your nails raked his back, leaving scratch marks against his skin.

“Holy fuck, feel so full.” Harry continued to slowly fuck you, thinking you needed time to adjust to his size. But you needed the opposite, “Fuck me harder,” you moaned.

“Yeah? Y’want me harder?” You nodded, back arching off the bed. Harry drove deeper into you, but still going at the same pace.

“And faster,” you didn’t forget to add.

Harry picked up the pace and thrusted harder and faster into you as you requested. The length and girth of his cock hit all the right places as you squeezed around him, making him groan.

“So fucking big.” Your head is thrown back onto the pillows as your mouth is wide open. Harry takes the opportunity to kiss you, diving his tongue straight into your mouth as you gladly take it, closing your mouth around his.

He pulled back, keeping up with his pace. “Do you like that? Does my sweet girl like that?” He sat up on his knees as his hands gripped your hips hard. The pet name had made you scream out, loving the way he calls you that.

“Good--feels so good,” you hands gripped the sheets below you as he relentlessly fucked you.

“You’re so tight around me. Tryin’ to squeeze the fuck out of me,” Harry threw his head back and you looked up at him. You took in how his stomach flexed with every thrust he drove into you, and how his chest was gleaming with sweat. And you couldn’t forget how mesmerizing the action of his cock driving into you looked; the sight making your mouth water.

You also didn’t realize that Harry was looking at you as you were eyeing him.

“Checkin’ me out?” He smirked.

“Can you blame me? You’re too hot not to,” you flirted.

“Could say the same thing for you. Look and feel so good for me,” he was now chest to chest with you, completely putting his weight on top of you, and you didn’t mind. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, pushing your heels into his ass as you wanted more from him before you took his lips in with yours. The wetness and the continuous hitting of your g-spot made you on edge, and you were nearly there.

“Gonna cum,” you said against his lips.

“Sweet girl’s gonna cum for me?” You nodded, and he went to suck on one of your tits as he pinched and fondled the other.

“Are you almost there?” You asked, and Harry kissed your neck, chuckling.

“Yeah. I’ve been there ever since I first saw you,” he said honestly, making you chuckle. “Cum for me, yeah? Wanna fill you up already.”

As Harry kept up his pace, he felt you squeeze around him and heard you moan out a series of ‘fuck’ as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, yesss,” you dragged out, and Harry continuously fucked you, riding out your high as he came into the condom.

“Shit,” he groaned, hips not stopping its movement. He collapsed onto your chest and your hands found his back, lightly scratching it as you let out a ‘mmm’, calming him down from his orgasm.

After a few minutes, you felt heavy breathing against your neck followed by small kisses to your skin. Harry lifted his head up, smiling at you. You chuckled at his post orgasm state and squeezed around him, trying to buck your hips as he was still inside you.

“Don’t do that,” he warned, slightly whimpering from being so sensitive.

“Why? I wanna go again,” you proposed.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” His brows raised and he sat up. You shook your head, telling him you were serious.

“Please? I’m still really horny, and want you to fuck me again before you have to go back,” you pleaded. You used an innocent voice, but Harry knew your words were far from innocent, but he couldn’t say no.

He was still inside of you and his cock was barely softening, so your wish is his command. “You’re gonna be the death of me. Better give a good tip,” he teased, joking with you.

“I would, but you’re giving me a good tip already, aren’t you?” You teased back, causing him to laugh and shook his head.

“Again, the death of me.” He started rocking his hips into you again as he sat on his knees. You scooted forward so the back of your thighs were on his as you were a bit elevated.

And as he was before, he pounded into you as he gripped your sides, physically moving you so you could meet his thrust. With your ass practically off the bed, your breasts were bouncing from the movement and he made no sign to slow down or stop.

It was easier for you both to come since you had just come down from your highs, but the second time around was more intense all the while feeling so good, and the sounds of yours and Harry’s moans were the only sounds heard as you both came.

Harry pulled out of you, and went to the restroom to take the condom off before laying back down on the bed. You were staring at the ceiling as your breathing was still heavy, and you felt Harry’s eyes on you.

“Yes?”

“I should probably go,” he said softly, hating the words that came out of his mouth.

“You can stay for a bit? I mean, if you can,” you offered, and Harry’s face lightened.

“I’d like that,” he smiled. You moved next to him, cuddling into his chest as you both made no effort to cover yourselves with the blanket.

“So, what do you do? Work? School?” He asked, and you detach yourself from him and laid on your side, facing him. He frowned slightly, missing your body against his, but he copied your position and faced you.

“I’m a professional dancer and teacher,” you said, placing your hand on his stomach, feeling his toned but soft skin. The action caused goosebumps to arise on his skin, enjoying the feeling of your soft hand.

“Really? What kind of dancer are you?” It was his turn to touch you now; placing his hand on your side and softly running his nails against it.

“Uh, I do ballet,” you replied hesitantly, wondering how he’d react. He knew that you had money from your car and the way you dress, and the fact that you can afford to fuck at a hotel for one day. He also knew that ballet class and dance classes in general were expensive, which raises your anxiety because you didn’t want to come off as a snobby bitch who has money and flaunts it by her appearance.

“Really? That’s so cool! How long have you been dancing for?” He asked curiously as you slightly calmed down as he didn’t react so badly,

“Since I was seven. I’ve only ever done ballet,” you smiled softly, remembering your first ballet class and how you were so happy being a seven year old. And times have changed…drastically.

“How old are you now? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“It’s okay. You can ask me anything. But I’m twenty three. I work at the academy,” you told him. It was your first ever job that you had, and it was the only job that your parents allowed you to have as you were still in school at the time; that’s only because Richard had told you that it was the only thing you were good at, seeing as you've been dancing for years, so he allowed it when you had told him the big news of the studio offering you a job. “How old are you?” You suddenly asked.

“I’m twenty five.”

“Are you married?” You teased, not seeing a wedding band on his finger, but decided to still ask.

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked, and he shook his head no. “Great.” You contained your big smile, chuckling a bit.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “Currently work for the fake, but not so fake, candy shop, and meet lovely ladies like you,” he smiled, and you chuckled.

“How long have you been working there?”

“Honestly? Two days. You’re actually my first ‘real’ customer.” Your brows raised, curious as to why you were his first real customer. “I freaked out the first day because my boss didn’t quite explain to me what was happening until this one lady, who was married by the way, wanted to have sex and overall I was so confused. And Daren, my boss, gave me a choice if I wanted to stay, and figuring I need the money, I did,” he explained as you nodded your head, chuckling a bit as you were amused at his story of his first day.

“Well, I’m glad you stayed. Had a really fun time,” you bit your lip as your hand continued to move around on his stomach.

“I did as well. Have you been to Sweetland before?” You shook your head, and his eyes widened.

“Why’s that?” You asked amusingly.

“I don’t know…you’re just this gorgeous and confident woman who walked into the shop and knew what she wanted--it’s a good thing; a good trait to have. I was a bit intimidated and nervous, but it’s admirable really,” he told you honestly. A blush crept onto his cheeks, and as if you didn’t already have a tiny crush on this guy, seeing him flustered and adorable increased your liking towards him.

“You’re sweet,” was all you managed to say. You knew you were confident in yourself, and you try your best to show everyone that you don’t take shit from anyone. But no one has quite said that it was a good trait because all you’ve gotten were dirty looks and not so kind words because you were confident.

“I beg to differ because you’re the sweet girl,” he flirted, pecking your lips quickly before pulling back.

You two looked each other in the eye for a moment before you leaned in to take his lips against yours, kissing him once more. The kiss was sweet and slow; not needing to rush it. You cherished and enjoyed it as you haven’t been kissed like this in a long time without it having to get deeper and less to sex.

You and Harry hadn’t realized it was almost 6 p.m, and Harry needed to get back to the shop. Sweetland closes at around 4, but Daren said the rules were that if a customer comes before 4, they have about two hours to pleasure and satisfy them before they have to be back at the shop as Daren collected tips if given, and they officially close at 6:30.

You on the other hand, had about two hours to spare since you had a half day. You hadn’t told your parents because they’d expect you to be home, and god knows you don’t want to be, so you figured you could hang out with Alice and Frances.

“I should probably get going,” Harry said sadly. He didn’t want to leave his very spot as he wanted to keep talking to you, and getting to know you more.

“Yeah, okay…” you said, feeling odd about getting up and changing. It was like you didn’t want to leave; the simple act of talking post sex was something you enjoyed with him. It was comforting in the sense.

Harry was the first to get out of bed, feeling like he would seriously stay talking to you for the rest of the night, but he had to get going. He dressed up, tucking in his blouse into his trousers and forgetting to retie the bow. You followed him as well after going to the restroom to do your business; retrieving your clothes from the ground as you dressed yourself when Harry was the one who undressed you. No words were spoken between you two as you two got ready in silence. It wasn’t awkward in the sense, more like a sad farewell because you both really did enjoy your time together.

“I-I’m gonna see if I can call for a car at the front desk,” he said once he was finished changing. You were sitting on the cushioned bench, the one where he ate you out on, as you put on your shoes.

You looked up once you were finished, brows furrowed. “Nonsense. I can take you back,” you offered.

“Oh, it’s okay-”

“Harry, please. I have a perfectly capable car waiting downstairs for me, and it’s not even that far of a drive. I have plenty of time as well,” the way you were looking at him was like you were hoping he wouldn’t say no, and so he didn’t. He nodded his head in agreement.

“Okay. Thank you,” he said, and you gave him a smile.

You two looked around the room to see if any of you left something behind before heading out to the lobby. Harry waited for you to check out, which didn’t take longer than five minutes before he followed you outside as you gave the valet guy your ticket as he went to get your car.

Luckily, nothing happened to Rosie, and you handed a few bills to the valet guy before getting in with Harry.

“She’s perfectly okay,” Harry said as you pulled onto the main road.

“Huh?”

“Rosie. She’s fine. I heard you talk to the guy back there, telling him to take care of her when we arrived,” he explained, and your eyes brightened, realizing what he was talking about.

“Yeah, she’s my baby. Can’t trust anyone with her. Never really let anyone drive her besides valet people who, in fact, I have to give very clear instructions on how to take care of her,” you chuckled.

“Seems like you and Rosie need to be treated properly.”

“That we do,” you agreed. “That we do.”

Before you and Harry knew it, you were parked on the side of Sweetland, putting your car into park. You turned towards Harry and he turned towards you, not really sure how to say goodbye after this. There was no denying the attraction you feel towards each other. You talked before and after sex, simply getting to know each other, and it felt completely safe--comfortable with one another, comfortable in your bodies together.

“I should probably head inside now,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. You only nodded, feeling a bit sad you two had to part ways.

“Okay, yeah, uh…thank you?” You said awkwardly, not knowing if this was an appropriate situation to say thanks. Harry chuckled, amused because he was going to say thank you as well.

“I think I should be the one thanking you, so thank you.” Harry gets out of the car and you watch him shut the door before you remembered something.

“Oh, wait, Harry!” You called out to him, and he turned around, leaning down and placing his arms on the passenger door as he watched you fish something out from your purse. You handed him a $20 bill as a tip for the company and events, and Harry was hesitant on taking it. “Please, take it? I had a really nice time.”

“I don’t know. It feels wrong to take it,” he said softly, a hint of frustration in his tone. And you knew it felt wrong because it felt wrong giving it to him, like he was just hookup. “If I take it, then it’ll feel like it wasn’t anything more,” he said honestly. It was a big step for him to say those words, but if you hadn’t felt the same then he wouldn’t worry about it because he wouldn’t see you again.

But you sighed in relief, putting your head down before quickly bringing it back up to look at him. “Yeah, it feels very wrong giving this to you, but you don’t have to take it for yourself. I just want to help you guys because the service, for one, is amazing,” you giggled, and the corners of his lips turned up.

“Okay, but I’m not keeping this for myself,” he said, taking the money from your hands, but continues to hold your hand.

“I don’t expect you to.”

The feeling of holding hands was something you never felt so much excitement from until holding Harry’s hand. Even if it was a ‘friendly’ gesture, the act made butterflies soar through your stomach.

“I really should go,” he gave you a sad smile.

“Yeah…” you said softly. “I’ll see you around maybe?”

“See you, sweet girl.”

Harry gave the back of your hand a kiss before letting your hand go, and you immediately missed his touch, but you watched him walk to the entrance of the shop as he turned around once, giving you a small wave and smile before walking in. You sighed, starting your car back up; an odd feeling was present in your chest as he parted ways with you. For a moment, you didn’t know why you felt so gutted to see him leave, but you figured it was because of the connection you had with him physically, and you really enjoyed your time chatting with him.

The drive to Alice’s place was silent; the only thing heard was the crackling of the stereo that tried its best to play music. It was about a twelve minute drive from Sweetland back to Beverly Hills that was filled with pondering as the golden hour sun hit you and your convertible.

Once you parked on the side of the street in front of her house, you got out and went to the side gate, letting yourself in, knowing Alice’s parents didn't want anyone in the house uninvited, so Alice told you and Frances to use the side gate whenever you two went over to enter. And besides, you all hang out in the backyard anyways.

When you walked past the side of the house, you found Frances and Alice chatting as they laid on their pool chairs, sipping a martini in their bikinis. They hadn’t heard you walking, but once they saw you, they immediately sat up and started to squeal.

“Oh my gosh, you’re glowing!” Frances screamed, and you rolled your eyes, sitting at the end of Frances’ pool chair.

“See? Told you they’re gonna fuck you good,” Alice snickered, smirking at Frances as she smiled back. “Hey, what’s got you so down? They weren’t that good?” Alice asked, noticing the frown on your face.

“The exact opposite. He was great,” you replied, still in a sad tone.

“Then why aren’t you happy, doll?” Frances asked, placing a hand on your back; the same frown on your face was matched on theirs. It was something you loved about your trio; your energies were always matched or tried to be matched when one was excited or sad.

“His name is Harry, and…he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. We just had such a strong connection physically, of course, but also emotionally. We talked before and after we had sex, and there was just something about him that made me want to just lay there and talk to him for hours. It was…comforting, and I didn’t feel the need to, like, hide myself from him,”

“Oh, doll, you caught feelings,” Alice said, placing a hand on your knee. You nodded slowly, knowing you really did catch feelings after sex.

“I’ve known him for what? Two hours?” A strained look fell on your face as you tried not to cry out of frustration.

“Hey, no. It’s okay. You're a human who has feelings and is able to find that sort of connection with anyone. Your feelings matter. If you really like this guy, visit him again!” Frances said.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m acting like it’s the end of the world.”

“Well, that’s because this is the first guy you’ve ever liked ever since Chris. This is a big deal,” Alice said, and Frances nodded in agreement.

“And besides, you can always go back to Sweetland--order yourself a ‘cloud nine,’” Frances wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, making you all laugh. 

“Thanks, dolls,” you opened your arms, giving them one big group hug as you embraced one another. When you all let go, you noticed their glances to each other, making you confused. 

“What?” 

“Well, how was it? Tell us all about it!” The two were smiling so big like they were kids receiving ice cream as Frances moved to sit next to Alice on her pool chair with their fists under their chin as they waited for you to tell them all about it. 

“It was amazing. He was so dreamy…” 

You proceeded to tell them the entire story, leaving out the details of you and Harry having sex, but they begged and asked some simple questions that you were able to answer. The three of you screamed, laughed, and felt so giddy as you told your story. And you already missed the way his eyes looked into yours. 

Maybe after all, you will go back to Sweetland.

YAY FOR CHAPTER TWO! COME INTO MY ASK AND LETS CHAT ABOUT THIS! 

next chapter will be up on August 28!

taglist babies: @froggystyles​ @outofsstyles​ @whoschantel​@4592222 @groovybaybee​ @bfharry​ @wellbafineline​ @tfonty​@bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel​ @brrilliant-harry​ @apples2019​ @bbymichelleee​ @harrys-cherrry​ @ggaayyyong​ @heslilac​ @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​ @sozvuchiy​ @mellamolayla​

[evolutionsvoid]

If one has read through my previous entries on Slimes, you should know by now that they are an incredibly adaptable and versatile species. Though they are just a heart and a pseudobody, their special signals and incredible slime allow them to create a variety of shapes and forms. From sticky Flayers who cover themselves in adhesive goo and bone shards, to volatile Fire Slimes that secrete flammable liquids and use gathered flint to light it all aflame! It is no surprise that this species has thrived and spread for so long! However, at times this versatility can lead to some issues. Like any other beast, Slimes are susceptible to parasites, disease and the ravages of time. Horrible things that can mess with their minds and hijack their signals. When a Slime is struck by one of these terrible fates, you either wish for a speedy recovery or a merciful death. Cruel as it sounds, things can become a real problem when these illnesses choose to linger. Be it parasite or virus, one can take over the form of a Slime and turn them into something even worse. I have written about Slime Dragons before, and how those abominations come to be. To quickly recap, Slime colonies tend to have buried networks of elder hearts that aid in reproduction and knowledge transfer. Slimes can physically connect to these networks to share nutrients, information or transfer their young. In most cases, these networks get along just fine, but age can start to wear on the oldest of hearts. As the decades pass by, an elder heart may start to degrade and fail. Most cases end with these dying organs being put of their misery and absorbed, but there are rare instances where the network is too late in realizing this weakness. In extreme cases, a fading heart may start to produce a "rotted signal," a droning message that is simple and infectious. Slimes use signals generated by their hearts to control their goo and communicate with others. They can share signals with one another without a problem, but rotted signals are not so kind. Due to their nature, these signals are capable of overwriting the signals of other Slimes and causing their hearts to pump out the same infectious message. All Slimes who come in contact with an infected heart or pseudobody will be hijacked and added to the collective. Slime Dragons are beasts that can result from a rotted signal taking over, but they are only one outcome for this dire situation. You see, a rotted signal is not just gibberish or useless noise, it often is a normal message that a Slime would use that has become corrupted. For Slime Dragons, the signal that births them is the same signal Slimes use when they are hungry or look to feed. It is a blaring message to consume that takes them over and creates this gluttonous monstrosity. So that means a different signal can lead to a different outcome, which is where the Slime's versatility takes a cruel turn. For each type of rotted signal, their is a corresponding abomination that is born from it, and each is specially equipped to bring a whole lot of misery and destruction. The diseased amalgamation I wish to write about today is known as the Mind Sink. While it is a network that has succumbed to an infection like a Slime Dragon, it is quite different from those slithering, hungering brutes. Their congealed and hardening slime will form skittering legs, and a bizarre frame. While its outside has grown dark and thickened by the corrupted fusion of so many Slimes, within this brittle cage will form a gooey writhing core. Here is where the infested hearts lie, and from there comes a multitude of flailing tendrils and snaring tentacles. I imagine it is a freaky sight to behold, and one I have thankfully never witnessed! The Mind Sink is one of these abominations I am most disturbed by, as it hungers for something more than flesh! The signal that becomes corrupted is the one Slimes will use to transfer knowledge to one another. It is a message that kind of says "can I copy your notes?" which the other Slime will agree to and they will share their information. When it grows foul, though, this message does not ask for permission. Rather, it becomes more of theft than a collaboration, as the infested Slimes mindlessly drain the information out of the victim. Slimes that are caught by these serpentine limbs will immediately be linked to the corrupted network and they will begin to draw out all their knowledge. In moments, the Slime will be emptied of all their information and thoughts, and will instead start to pump out the rotted signal. They will be pulled into the core and will join their infested brethren, ready to seek out the next victim. I know some may think that it is a rough process for the Slimes, and to that I must make a correction. It is a rough process for everyone, because the Mind Sink does not just prey on its own. 

It has been thought that the signals from a Slime's heart shares some similarities with the signals our brains create. While that is a whole field of study and wondering I am not well versed in, I can say that Mind Sink has given us a bit of confirmation on that. Mind Sinks not only hunger for the knowledge of their fellow Slimes, but they will target other creatures as well. Doesn't matter if it is man, beast or thinking plant, if it has a brain or a similar organ, it wants inside. Non-Slimes who are seized by a Mind Sink's arms will be entangled and immobilized in its grip. Coils of slime will pin their limbs in a cocoon, and slithering tendrils will seek out the source of the victim's thoughts. They somehow have a way of pinpointing the location of the brain and, once they do, they find the quickest way to access it. The point of entry is usually a facial orifice, be it nose, mouth, ears or eyes. They will burrow to the brain and the corrupted goop will make physical contact. From there, it will hijack the signals and quickly learn how to manipulate the organ, giving it access to their memories, knowledge and life experiences. With the mental feast now ready, the Mind Sink will say "I will have everything!" and start to drain. So far it has not been found if there is any order to what it consumes first, or if there is any logic behind it. Like a whirlpool, it just sucks in whatever it can. The mind will be siphoned away by this hungering mass, and the victim is quite powerless to do anything about it. When your brain is taken over by a gooey monstrosity, you aren't exactly in the right state of mind to fight back. Due to the difference between Slimes and species like us, the brain draining process takes much longer. Think of it like trying to transcribe an entire book in a language you don't understand. Yeah, you can do it by just copying the symbols, but it will take you longer. It appears that it takes a few minutes for a fleshy or plant-based victim to be fully emptied, and then they will simply be tossed aside. Those that fall to this awful fate will not have much of a mind left. Memories will be gone, any knowledge or skills they had will be wiped out and their own thoughts will be a scrambled mess due to the brutal takeover their brain experienced. Most become comatose, while some may flop around like a fish and babble nonsense. It is a truly horrible thing, and a cure or remedy has yet to be found.   Due to how much longer it takes to fully feed off a victim, one can be saved from the grasp of a Mind Sink before they are truly lost. If one can sever the tendril that holds the prisoner and cut them off from the network, the slime will collapse in a useless heap. The connection with their brain will end and so will the drain. It should be noted that freeing a victim from a hungering tendril is just the first step, because the Mind Sink has a dozen more and it will be eager to reclaim its prize. Best to grab them the second they are let go and run as fast as you can! Severing this link before the mind can be fully consumed is certainly a good thing, but damages will still occur. It depends on how long they were being fed on, as that decides how much was removed from the brain. Those that were held for only a few moments won't notice too much of a difference after they have rested and recovered, but some things will certainly be lost. Probably a handful of distant memories and mental tidbits were taken, but they won't notice their absence right away. Those fed upon for longer will have patchy memory loss, temporary issues with physical functions and scattered thoughts. It will be like someone took the book of their life and ripped out random pages. Thankfully, the book will mostly remain, so that means recovery is possible. Physical therapy will be required for any functions that were damaged by the hijacking, and the mind will need some help too. Not only will they need to relearn lost skills and forgotten memories, but their mind will need to recoup as well. Meditation, therapy and other calming activities are needed to help them stabilize their thoughts and reorganize their scattered mental archives. Recovery is not the fastest thing, but time and patience will help heal the wounds and fill the gaps torn in their heads. No doubt now that it has become obvious that Mind Sinks are incredibly dangerous and need to be exterminated whenever they rise. These are diseased amalgamations that will cause untold damage and tragedy as long as they are alive, and there does not seem to be any peaceful way to resolve their rampage. Like Slime Dragons, the way to bring down these monstrosities is to target the original heart that is creating the rotted signal. That is where the signal is originating from, and the other hearts are merely mimicking it. Kill the source and the others will soon fall silent, causing the fusion to fall apart. When it perishes, all the other Slimes are set free, but they won't be the same as they were before they were assimilated. All the knowledge they had was taken by the Mind Sink, and where all that information goes is quite random. As far as we know, all that it absorbs is held in a condensed mess of noise and thoughts that is shared by all the consumed hearts. Its mind eating abilities may make it seem like it can take memories and knowledge then use them against their foes, but that isn't the case. They do not weaponize what they take, they don't even seem to pay the stolen information any mind. Their own mind is like a garbage can, and anything they get their tendrils on is just chucked inside without a second thought. They don't want to use it or interpret it, they just want it. So with all this knowledge shoved into one mangled ball of mental energy, there is no telling what belongs to who or who belongs to what! When the Mind Sink is terminated, all that knowledge is fractured and dumped randomly into the freed hearts. The Slimes who emerge from the collapsed amalgamation will have a stew of memories and thoughts that are not their own. Some will be completely different from before, while some will be fumbling with the fractured mess they have been given. Not only will they be mixed up with their own selves, but there can also be a whole bunch of information that was stolen from non-Slimes that is now stuck in them! Some may be in bits and pieces, while some Slimes can have whole chunks of a person's life inside them! There is a tale that has gone around about a monster slayer going out to kill a rampaging Mind Sink. He failed to defeat the beast and was consumed by it, but eventually someone brought it down. What was brought back to his family was an empty shell, and they cared for him in this comatose state. The family prayed that one day he would get better, that somehow his mind and faculties would return. One morning, his wife heard someone walking around the house and his voice started to call for her. Believing that a miracle had been granted, she rushed to him only to find him still in his bed and still in a coma. What walked in to greet her in her husband's voice was a Slime, who had somehow wound up with a big chunk of his memories and personality. I personally don't think this story is true, because the ending to this tale has several different versions. Some say she took the Slime as a replacement for her husband, while others say she killed it in horror on the spot. I have heard some say that the Slime returned all the memories to the comatose husband and he was cured, but that one is certainly fake. It would be nice if that could happen, but Slimes are incapable of putting things into our heads like that. Our minds are like colorful sandpaintings, and the Mind Sink just reached in and yanked out handfuls of it. Can you just take those fistfuls and put them back so easily? I say that about returning memories and how that is impossible, but then I remember that there is an exception to that: the Slimes themselves. While they can come out all scrambled, it is possible for the Slimes to rearrange themselves back into facsimiles of their old selves. Slimes can already transfer stuff to one another, so they could puzzle out what parts belong to who and then sort them out. I have no clue how you can tell if a memory is yours or not, but then again, I don't have the ability to copy and share my brain (I wish I did, though! It would make teaching so much easier)! So Slimes can return what was lost between them, but they will still wind up with pieces of non-Slime information. What they do with this is unknown and up to who wields it, but some believe that Slimes have gained portions of their knowledge by recovering stolen thoughts from a Mind Sink. Supposedly an ancient Mind Sink fed upon human settlements and was finally slain, and the Slimes that emerged claimed all the knowledge and skills of its victims. Could it have happened? Maybe. Do I believe it? No, because I do not like the light it paints Slimes in. The theory is essentially saying they stole all their knowledge and wisdom from others, and proposes that they couldn't have come across this any other way. Seems more like it is derogatory towards Slimes than it is trying to learn more about them. Doesn't help that the people I have met who believe this theory have all kind of been jerks towards Slimes. After all this talk about Mind Sinks and their horrific abilities, I bet some think that I can offer tips on how to kill one. In truth, I got nothing. Take out the original rotted heart and the rest falls apart. How do you do that? Not really my department there. I am a researcher not a warrior, and I personally don't want to be anywhere near one of these things. As someone who has spent years learning and seeking knowledge, the concept of a brain-sucking monster is absolutely terrifying to me. All my experiences, all my work drained away in minutes, reducing me to a mindless vegetable! No thank you! I like my thoughts right where they are, and I got enough of a scatter brain already! The only way I want to share my knowledge is through my writings and teachings! Read my life's work, don't yank it out of my skull! Speaking of that, I better watch my tongue. Enough talk about a mind-wiping monster and Eucella might hire one and sic it on me. It would be way easier to chop up my writings and sell a book if I was brainless idiot! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian - You know I read these, right? This is not helping your case in the slightest. And also you might want to drop the "if" and change the "was" on the brainless idiot part.     - Eucella - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slimes, Slimes, I love Slimes!      

[agentsofsupernaturalmarvel]

Full Moon // HSMTMTS

IN WHICH: Reader moved from Beacon HIlls, California to Salt Lake City, Utah following the public described animal attacks. Struggling without your alpha your forced to restrain yourself in your basement, until your secret is revealed to two teens.

Characters: Reader x Ricky Bowen (Future relationship), platonic!reader x platonic!Big red, and Nini Salazar-Roberts (mentioned)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing, violence, fluff, angst and mentions of death

A/N: This has been bugging me for weeks to do a crossover with High School Musical: The Musical: The Series and Teen Wolf. I thought I’d get it down to stop the aggravating urge to write it. This is post!season one where Ricky and Nini do not get together so there is a potention future for Ricky and Reader.

YOU CAN REQUEST FROM ME AS WELL!

Masterlist

Junior year honestly sucked for the teenager from the greater population the general area along with the school. You had moved to Utah from California in the middle of summer when life had calmed down in your hometown. During the crises you faced with your friends you had desired for normalcy, once achieving it, life was boring. You looked over your shoulder at everything, and it took ages to get close to someone, thanks to firstly Ms. Blake.

“Hey.” You glanced over your shoulder to see that your chemistry lab partner was standing behind you. You sent a smile to him with a gleam in your eye.

“Hey, Red.” You spoke closing your locker door to give Red your upmost attention focusing on his instead of the sounds that were louder than usual.

Red was the first person you made friends with when you moved and often you were the listening ear for the drama he was forced to endure. His best friend, someone you hadn’t fully met, had dragged him into the mess of what the fall musical had been. The mission didn’t end the way his best friend had wanted, but he made peace with his ex-girlfriend enough to be friends.

“I’m having a movie night with Ash, Ricky and some other kids. Do you want to come over?” Red asked with a hopeful smile. You fully shipped Red with his unofficial girlfriend Ashlyn since you first saw the pining looks.

“I’m not sure.” You half-smiled feeling bad at his falling expression, but what could you do? It was a full moon without the help of your friends. Without your alpha.

Taking it back the main reason it sucked having moved was that you had practically turned into an omega. Not really given that as a werefox your type was more prone to be a lone wolf for lack of a better description.

“Come on! You have to meet Ricky. You would get along so well.” Red pleaded as he bounced on the balls of his feet. You blinked at the excitement in his eyes given he had been unsuccessful in getting you to join them for a mass of reasons.

“It’s just not a good day-“

“One movie? I’ll buy you a smoothie every day for a week.”

Now had you been in the same vicinity of your pack you would have easily said no or been dragged away but not this time. Could be the full moon’s affecting you, but you quickly gave in to Red with little regret. Besides you were confident, you could control yourself with the possible chance of revealing that world.

The rest of the day passed moderately okay with little issues other than growling under your breath as EJ made a stupid comment about Big Red. It had gained you a look of confusion from the water polo player.

That confidence should have been the realization to not go and instead somehow chain yourself in your basement. Which you managed to do with a bunch of trouble, growls burst from your lips. Eyes a vibrant, glowing silver and sharp fangs barred you viciously pulled on your chains.

“Hi Mrs. Y/L/N!” The voice of Big Red spoke following the door to the house opening.

Mrs. Y/L/N had opened the door to see Big Red along with a taller boy with brown curls on his head. Her smile made its appearance as the sight of two teenagers she hoped was helping you transition.

“Red! How are you?”

“I’m okay. Ricky and I were worried about Y/N.” Red spoke, tapping his shoe on the ground in nervous energy, “She didn’t show up at movie night, I’ve called her with no response.”

“She’s downstairs. I’m on my way out at the moment but feel free to hang around.” Mrs. Y/LN spoke, sliding her spring jacket onto her shoulders while stepping into her black sneakers.

Meanwhile downstairs you panted as a leather cuff let out a concerning ripping noise that would have worried Scott and Stiles. The two boys that had called earlier in the day to check up on you despite the issues following the sacrifices they did.

“GO AWAY!” You snarled up the stairs as the basement door opened with a loud creak to your sensitive ears. Ears that had formed into cones with a pointed tip.

Ricky ran directly into his best friend’s back at sight in front of them, the new girl was chained to a wall in the corner was you. The new girl that Ricky had noticed from the moment he saw you talking with Big Red. The new girl that had silver eyes with specks of glowing green, fangs and cat ears. It was something Ricky only saw in films.

“Oh my god. What the hell?” Big Red spluttered flinching as you snarled louder at them, “Are you filming a video?”

“Leave! These are going to break, and I’m going to eat you!” You growled thrashing in the chains to get free. You could hear the blood in their fast-beating hearts, and it frustrated you. You wanted to feel their bones crush in your mouth, “I’m to break your bones with my teeth!”

Ricky and Big Red didn’t really believe it until the distinct snap of a chain made its self-known when you stumbled. The split leather still on your wrists but the chain was hanging off the beam. With fervour, you lunged for the redhead lab partner you had. It was Ricky that grasped your wrists to keep them firm, claws millimetres from his flesh.

“Calm down!” Ricky shouted, stumbling at the strength you displayed. You broke free, and fangs were inches from ripping his throat out when you released a gasp and fell into a slump.

Shaking in fear Big Red gasped dropping the aluminium bat he had found in a storage bin, both boys gulped.

 “What the fuck just happened.” Ricky breathed wiping the bead of blood from where Y/N’s forefinger’s claw had embedded itself. The red was indicating that whatever happening to the girl was real and very much, not in the movies.

“A werewolf?” Big Red emphasized staring at his new friend in shock and confusion, “Am I dreaming? Actually, did I kill her?”

Ricky shrugged bending down to inspect the unconscious girl frowning at the constant buzzing of the phone on the counter. Red recognized it as your phone, but the name was unfamiliar. Taking a change, Red answered the video call nervously.

“Oh, thank god! Thought you lost control and mauled some per -“ The mole speckled teen broke his words as he did not see you but a short redhaired boy. Stiles’ eyes flicked behind the redhead to see a much taller brunette wincing at a small wound on his wrist, “Oh god. SCOTT!”

“What?” A Hispanic teen showed up on the call to stutter as he noticed that Stiles was videoing people he didn’t know, “Hi, I’m Scott. This is Stiles.”

“Ricky and Big Red.” Ricky spoke frowning at the duo, “I’m guessing you know about Y/N’s state? That was real? She’s a werewolf?”

 Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are you hurt? Where is she?”

Without answering, Ricky tilted the phone to show that the teenage girl was resting unmoving on the ground. The significant rise and fall of her chest, soothing the worries of all the teens conscious.

“Okay. Hopefully, she has been out cold for a while.” Stiles muttered to himself. The duo broke into an explanation and answered the questions Ricky and Red had.

As the clock struck midnight, Ricky and Red had followed the directions Scott and Stiles had given them by chaining the girl back up. Chained tighter and each holding a weapon, they kept their eyes on the girl, tensing as she groaned in pain.

“W-what happened?” You slurred blinking your eyes open; first, you met the nervous gaze of Big Red before Ricky’s look of disbelief.

“Werewolf.” Red muttered, shaking his head, taking in the now human features you had, “Werewolves are real?”

 “Among other things.” You retorted sitting up to rub your head only feeling the moon’s pull a little versus earlier. Your eyes met the scared ones, “The supernatural exists and had you not found me…you wouldn’t know, and I wouldn’t have killed a lot of people. And I’m not a werewolf.”

“Then, what are you?” Ricky questioned this time lowering the bat into a non-threatening position because other than joining the fall musical last semester this is the weirdest shit he found himself in.

“I’m a bitten werefox.” You admitted shifting to sit crisscross on the ground in front of the couch. Each boy raised a simple eyebrow, “Okay, it all started the sophomore year with my best friends Stiles and Scott.”

One Year Ago

You hummed a tune running a hand along the spines of the books you had read; you had spent the last hour reorganizing them. You split them into firstly two main categories of what you had read and haven’t read just yet. Within those categories, you had decided to organize by series and author names. It brought a sense of euphoria to see the newly bookshelf set up and correctly done.

You turned on your heel to grab a clean pair of pyjamas, consisting of shorts and t-shirt to wear after a shower. It was getting late, and with school tomorrow it was a big day as one of your best friends Scott was adamant he would make first-line despite his severe asthma. That and you had a meeting with your history project partners to nail down ideas.

Your plan was disrupted when a knock on your door sounded and just by the kind and volume you knew immediately who it was. Opening the bedroom door, you saw that Stiles was standing there with a goofy smile as usual.

“Oh, god. What you want now.” You questioned just because that smile was usual the prerequisite before trouble.

“So, wanna go for a hike?” Stiles questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyebrows raised in response to his question.

“You wanna hike in the woods at ten o’clock at night? What’s the real reason.”

“My Dad is out, and we’re going to find a dead body!” Stiles exclaimed with a sizeable infectious grin that easily swayed you more than you liked to admit.

“Seriously? Why can’t you take Scott.”

“We are. Scott's in the jeep.” Stiles chuckled, shaking his head, “Do you really think I would leave him out of the fun?”

Of course, he thought dead body hunting was a fun hobby to do. 

That night changed everything. It set you on a path of violence just because Peter Hale decided to finally enact his revenge for the fire that placed him in the hospital unable to move but cognizant. He bit Scott and later just before Jackson and Stiles threw Molotov cocktails lighting him on fire, he kidnapped you and bit you at the Hale house.

In the present, you explained the months after Scott was bitten, including being hunted in the high school at night. Even up to a human-sized lizard killing under the orders of its master. Lastly, you described living through the hell of a Darach sacrificing people left, right and centre to defeat a murderous Alpha pack.

“Am I high?” Ricky questioned blinking at every word that fell out of the pretty girl’s lips, lips that had been barred revealing sharp fangs.

“You wish.” You snorted at the teenage boys, each sinking into the realization that what they had believed to be entertainment was very much real. Now they wondered if anyone they knew were part of that world, “You have to keep this quiet.”

Big Red and Ricky both nodded thus creating a trio similar to what it had been with Scott and Stiles. Hopefully with these two you wouldn’t have a similar history as you did with the supernatural in Beacon Hills.

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[universeofmuses]

A Family United

The events of the past few days had been dizzying, from the fall of not only Dooku and now the final Separatist leader General Grevious it brought an end to The Clone Wars but it has unfortunately the end of The Republic as well. The master of the Sith was finally revealed and so were his dark plans, Chancellor Palpatine revealed himself and his plans to turn The Republic into his own Empire with him as The Emperor. Everything ever since the blockade on Naboo all those years ago and everything since had been orchestrated by him behind the scenes to get to this point, to manipulate everyone to suit his needs to make his plans a reality.  

However the one thing he couldnt count on was Anakin’s constitution to his purpose to fight against the Sith and ultimately bring balance to the force. However at the moment he felt like a complete failure, the Jedi order was all but wiped out by the clones in the insidious Order 66. The only Jedi that were left were himself, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and any other Jedi that were lucky enough to escape their clones and make it to safety. They had gathered here on his single asteroid base in the middle of an asteroid field, they were safe for now out here in the outer rim. 

Padme was here as well and had gone into labor when Palpatine had announced that he was reorganizing The Republic into The Galatic Empire, as the thunderous applause of this news rang out she felt her heart crumble as one of the main purposes of her life was now gone. The distress she felt had triggered her to go into labor, thankfully former Senator Bail Organa had been able to get a transmission out to Anakin to get a ship and head out Polis Massa that they would meet him there along with their friends. 

She had been so worried about her husband and if he would make it there safely, however the medical droid had saw fit to sedate her a little bit to ensure that in her panic and worry about Anakin and the major changes in the galaxy that she didnt not further complicate the birth. When she awoke she was on an operating table with other medical droids and delivery droids around her helping to handle the process of her giving birth, this was when she was informed that she was carrying twins, as much of a surprise as this was to her deep down inside she felt it, she just knew that she was carrying two beautiful blessings inside of her. 

The labor pains she felt were excruciating, she cried out in deep pain as tears feel from her eyes as she struggled with the birth. Before long aside from the droids there was another figure by her side, she looked at the figure through the tears in her eyes, “Ani? Is that you?” she called to him breathlessly unsure if she could do this, if she could finish this birth. 

@herowithoutfear​

[madmadmilk]

Like  Dark Chocolate Part 7 | Tom Holland x Reader (FINALLY)

IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING, BUT WE’RE BACK IN THE GAME BABEYYY. Thank u for waiting so patiently~ it literally took like 6 months lol pls be kind ((pics not mine))

READ THE TEASER FIRST | PART 1 | PART 2| PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | (Updates next week?)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You can’t help but fall into something familiar, something warm, something you deserve. He’s been waiting for you while you’ve been wondering. They say time heals all wounds, but the real question is, how much time does it take to even believe you’ve healed?

Warning: Swearing, sweating, and something like forgiveness

Word Count: 10.8K petals on the floor

Special thank you to some of my lovely BETAs: @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @laucontrerasv @spidey-waffles11 (and honestly anyone who sent asks looking for this. thank you)

-

“Same old Tom.”

Your head tilts as you look into those familiar chocolatey browns. You can see the arrow run straight through his heart. It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice say his name in a month. And it’s one of the few times you’ve let yourself say it out loud.

There’s a familiar taste that coats your mouth.

I don’t want to admit it but––

A shallow breath catches in your throat, a faint smile on your lips. You just can’t hold it back anymore, old feelings threatening to spill over.

I do miss you, Tom.

They were never really forgotten.

Just a little bit.

And well, you could never hide it from yourself.

You fight the smile on you dry lips from widening, you fight the warm flush ferociously crawling up your chest, you fight every urge in your body from jumping up to wrap yourself up and all around him.

You missed him.

And the bare sight of him is enough to drive you mad.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has been,” you reply curtly, eating up the sight before you. He was dressed in a rush, slouchy, ruffled but smelling like a cosy detergent and sexy shampoo. The giddy smile has never left his lips.

The space between you both is maddening, easy to be made close, easy to pull further apart.

Your fingers twitch by your sides.        

Ha.

He probably can’t even remember the text he sent you–– “Blink 3 times if you miss me,” how the hell would you count how many times a person blinks? We do it all the time? When does the clock run––

But, Tom… Tom gets it. Of course he does.

1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.1, 2, 3.

A devilish grin stretches across his boyish face, an overwhelming excitement vibrating through him. He stood taller, shoulders hunched up as he leaned forward. It was a short victory he would hold against you and then it evenly faded into a relieved smile. The corners of his brows pull down as he lets out a soft sigh. You can hear the click of his tongue. His shoulders slump in satisfaction, and cheeks pinken as if his whole body being was saying, “thank god, thank god.”

He finally has your attention, better, at your admission.

His quiet voice confirms,

“So you have been reading the things I’ve sent you,” whispering now, “And listening?”

Haha.

You give him a blank stare, but inadvertently stretch your lips from smile to pucker to smile. You’re trying not to give him anything more than your telling blinks. You’re not going to make yourself anymore vulnerable, any more needy, any more…. generous. This was already too much.

But the silence gives him one more confirmation; tells him that you still think of him, at least enough to let him think you do. And this circular rationale reminds you of just how much of a sweet lil cavity he is.

An aching pain you can’t ignore.

He nods, wiggling his jaw while his eyes dance over your shoulders to your nose and back to your eyes,

“Good to know.”

Oh, hell.

Tom’s confidence comes and goes as he laughs to himself, only to flush in embarrassment. Neither of you can keep your composure. Both of your minds roll over all the little things he’s said in the messages and that’s more than enough to fill the remaining gap between you.

You feel like you know almost everything he’s feeling right now.

Almost, almost.

He clears his throat, scratching his head and bowing down,

“Listen, I–I really didn’t expect to see you at all. For the while. It’s just that Mal messaged me about an emergency, just saying that it was you and––“

“It was me. I sent it,” you clarify, not wanting to smear any more blame on your ill neighbor. Hadn’t she had enough? Questionably.

“I used her phone.”

“Oh,” he laughs emptily. You see his entire face sink in guilt. He scratches his head a little harder, trying to piece it together.

“She practically begged me to get your attention and she––“ he hums to your truth, “She showed it to me. I… I saw the messages she sent to you.”

Tom freezes, and drops his hand. He searches for an answer in your eyes. His blinks are slow, and the deep stare makes you all too aware.

Suddenly, you wonder if that was a breach of his privacy, if his healing should have been done alone. If you had stepped into a part of him you weren’t meant to see.

You step forward, putting your hands up.

“Sorry! Uhm, she… She let me read what she sent you, at the end… end of it all,” an uneasy chuckle falls past your lips, “She left your conversation open… and yeah, I saw a little bit. I think she was apologizing to me with it… or something like that.”

He nods, stare looking past you now, far away. He mutters under his breath,

“I’m still waiting for one too.”

And now you felt the restlessness of guilt; maybe it was a breach of trust. You squeeze your eyes tight for a second, trying to reorganize yourself, trust this and trust that. You’re getting tangled deeper into problems you were trying so hard to move past, smooth past.

The truth is all you have left.

You offer him a way out of the storm, praising softly,

“At the very least, I want to say thank you… for uhm, letting me know you were coming.”

His brows twitch into a furrow before he smiles gently, his cheek pulling.  His hands were itching to reach out, to hold you. And, honestly, if he did… you wouldn’t resist too hard. Maybe.

“Of course,” Tom confirms so lovingly. In that short phrase you can hear the tumbling of his feelings, the way he had to hold back from spilling his heart out and taking all of you in his arms, up and away from this cursed apartment.

But you both hear the echo of your own words, cast like a spell, “give me time.” So he did.

“And…. I’ll be getting out of your hair now.”

Your head tilts as you take him all in. His hair has dried, somewhere between curls and waves, the bags under his eyes are deep but the expression on his face is warm. You notice his pause, wondering if you should ask him to stay.

You can’t.

And he knows that.

Tom cracks into a laugh, rolling his head in a circle. You stand back on your heels, tension dissipating. He rocks back too, and starts to pick up his scattered jacket and hat. He puts them on quickly and you lean against the back of the couch. The apartment is quiet, save for the sound of his rustling clothes.

He heads to the door, ruffling his hair before he sticks it back under his cap. His hand is on the doorknob, cranking it slowly. He turns back to give you a dazzling smile,

“It was really, really amazing to see you again.”

You stomach flips. You can only nod and smile, as he holds your gaze. He looks down stepping out and––

“Hey! Tom?”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly, and you take the door. He’s still halfway inside your apartment, and sorely full in your heart. He raises his brow in question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you hold the door open for him.

Here it goes.

“I… I stayed around because… I kind of wanted to see you.”

His jaw drops.

“It was nice.”

And that goddamn heart-stopping grin is burned into your memory. You could see the sunshine and hope leaking out of his pores as he smiles with an open mouth.

Ooh.

And with a boyish chuckle, he accepts.

“Thank you, Y/N,” the flushing boy turns back and retreats with a happy skip,

“I’ll see you around.”

My name.

You don’t let yourself watch him walk away for too long, and shut the door quickly. Similarly, trying to shut out the emotions welling in your chest. Warm, worn, weak.

If Mal was awake, listening, or even remotely on “your side” you could just imagine her slow clapping to that awkward exchange.

You and Tom had finally moved forward; maybe they were baby steps. Or maybe they were even something less.

Anything is better than where you were nearly a month ago.

You retreat back to the couch and sink into your spot, alone with your rambling thoughts. Are we in, or are we out? Are we back? Is there more? Are we less––?

Gah.

You laugh as you wipe your hands over your face. You pull your cheeks down and let out a garbled sigh.

It’s really annoying how much you miss the taste of chocolate.

-

☎️ “Hey, It’s Tom. Again. Uhm, alright… This…. This feels ten times MORE awkward now that I know that you actually listen to these. Haha, shit! And I’ve sounded so pathetic in every single message–– hahaha, but, uhm, thanks. Not sure what part I’m thanking you for… but… I’m just thankful for you. Hah, hope that’s okay. I really just can’t believe I got to see you. It’s really been a long while, and I… I just wasn’t sure how we were even going to meet again. And, I realized I don’t have many pictures of you and you haven’t updated ANYTHING so––– oh, oh my god. I didn't mean to sound so fucking creepy! I swear I’m not checking on you everyday or something, hahahaha. Wah! I–– well. I don’t think i’ll ever forget what you look like, and I hope you’ll let me stick around……………… ugh, I’m the worst. For fucks sake. Hm….. you…. You really did look amazing, babe. I couldn’t breathe. And maybe you look even better without me……. Ahem. Ah, yeah. Sorry this is a fucking, that I’m a fucking mess. I’ll leave you be. Yeah. I’ll-- uhm, later. Bye, Y/N. I’ve missed you too.”

-

☎️ “Hey! Hey, uhm, It’s me. Tom. Again, again. Haha. Okay, uhm, totally slipped my mind, but I’ll be at Jay and Jae’s wedding like next, next week. Harrison said you were going as his date? Yeah, no problem with that. Just– uh, yeah. Just letting you know i’ll be there too. I know Mal, is invited so, she might be around? I’m not too sure. And… shouldn’t Zendaya be back around that time? Hahaha. Yeah, i–– This is just a heads up. I…. I won’t bother you there but…. Can i say that i’m looking forward to seeing you again so soon? Because I am….. Ooooohhhh….. Okay. Yeah, sorry. I’ll see you there, or not. Bye, babe.”

-

You smooth out your dress over your legs as you sit in a stiff chair. You kick your feet next to Harrison, lost on his phone. He ignores your fidgeting.

True to Tom’s voicemails, that you did listen to the moment you got them, you were at a wedding. Together, but not exactly. Jay and Jae were distant friends of yours, closer to Tom and his group of friends more than anyone else.

So naturally, Tom was there, sitting alone and far off, since Harrison took you as his date. He kept a professional distance, you would say.

Now, Mal was meant to be here too–– but she wasn’t. She declined without giving a specific reason, but you could imagine a few. The idea of fluffy bright whites, bouncy chatter and the honest glow of fairy lights might not shine too well on her particular shade of red.

Not that she doesn’t deserve her own sparkly moment in time, but you suppose this is all too fresh. And all too soon.

You reach out to touch the flowers wrapped around the chair in front of you. Were they real? Were they fake? You occupied yourself like this, and wondered…. Should you be feeling the same way as Mal?

Your eyes dart around, following strings of lights and greenery and warm sounds. Being at weddings, whether you knew the party well enough or not, has always made you feel loved. There's a certain warmth and love and respect that just overflows and spills into your own heart. Making you nostalgic for things you’ve never felt before.

So lovely.

Your thumbs smooth over a large petal.

And a ceremony like this…. Isn’t that bad. One day…

Your eyes flicker up, immediately finding that curious cute cavity.

One day maybe.

Tom is sitting with his arms resting on his legs. He switches between looking up, waving at distant friends and checking his phone, only to put it away quickly. He’s fidgeting too– trying his hardest not to look directly back at you.

You still catch him a few times.

You lean back, obscuring yourself from his view and  line up your arm with Harrison. You lean your head on his shoulder and laugh to yourself, pressing a fist against your lips to stifle it.

“Hm?” Harrison hums, craning his neck to see your face, “What’s so funny?”

You quiet down and smile gently. Curiosity is bubbling inside you and you feel like you’re in such high spirits–– the giddy nature of weddings is infectious, after all.

Is it because you feel like you have the upper hand tonight? Because Tom is trying so hard to not stare, but is so bad at hiding it? Because you feel like nothing can go wrong from this point?

Knock on wood.

Having Harrison by your side definitely feeds you a bit of confidence, at his expense. But you don’t think of that immediately. Things are only just coming to focus for you, and you eyes are willing to see.

You squeeze Haz’s arms softly, and suggest,

“Shall we invite him over?”

The golden haired boy scoffs, cocking his head back before looking at you,

“You sure about that?”

“‘Can’t leave him looking like a chump all by himself, right?”

He smiles at your thoughtfulness, raising his eyebrows then standing up. He calls over his friend quickly without much question. Tom perks up at the call of his name, and you could see his eyes widen across the ways.

He shimmies his way over, dodging people with a easygoing smile. He stands next to Haz, nodding his head politely,

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, come sit with us,” you offer plainly, pointing beside Harrison.

You could see Tom doing the math in his head, but he doesn’t challenge it. He smiles instead, a little wary and a little stiff but thanks you. You could hear Harrison snort in dull annoyance, making you giggle.

You’re giddy for real.

Haz is sat between you two during the wedding ceremony, but you can feel whenever either of them turn to look at you, hot stares on your cheek. You all sit and stand together, following the procession.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” the taller boy teases over the tension, bumping you with his elbow. You bump him back and he continues, “I’m in the line of fire.”

“Shut up!” you whisper back to him, catching Tom’s attention.

He turns to you, only like quarter cheek, but you can see the side of his eye wrinkle and how his cheek lift in a smile. You’re left looking at the teasing image of his jaw and ear and cheek and the tangle of waves on the nape of his neck––

Bring the heat.

The ceremony ambles on, and in the lull you hear Tom joke with Haz,

“Can’t wait for the drinks, man.”

Pffft.

His face was dusted pink. He needed something to keep him cool, something to do with his hands, and it might as well take the edge off too. It really couldn’t do much harm at this point. But would it even help with his nerves?

You stop yourself from giggling again, some kind of ancient, wretched, cliche girliness crawling out from you. You’re trying to play coy, but you can’t go exposing yourself.

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? And know you’re wanted?

Feels a little nice to be on this end, you have to admit.

You pull through the rest of the service, crying as the grooms whisper their vows to one another. Honestly you could barely hear it, but the way that they cried and smiled and cheered told you everything you needed to know.

Your heart swells as they kiss and walk by, everyone throwing handfuls of petals over them. It rains pink and white, a small flurry of love.

And while you take in the loving visual, you miss the way that a certain brunette turns back to catch a glimpse of you. Through the light mist of flowers, he sees a happy tear mark down your cheek and wishes nothing more than to be by your side and wipe it away.

“Catch you in a few,” comes Harrison’s voice and parting tap on your shoulder.

“Huh?” you blink, rubbing the corners of your eyes delicately.

He smiles, tilting his head towards company calling his name. He disappears into the crowd after giving your shoulder a squeeze and Tom a sharp pat on the back.

Ah, alone at last. You roll your eyes and nod to yourself.

There’s a wave of people leaving the ceremony to walk over to the reception hall, but you end up waiting in your row with Tom. You step close to his back, peering over him to see if it would be any easier to get out. You don’t talk.

After a while of being stuck, you both dart between chairs and exit the opposite way. You feel his hand almost touch the small of your back as he urges your way through.

The touch doesn’t connect, but a part of you wish it had.

You laugh bitterly as you push through the doors that lead out. It’s more than a bit ironic that you meet again at a wedding. The place of commitment and love and attempt at eternal happiness.

It’s kind of funny actually.

You step onto the sidewalk, shivering slightly at the cool spring weather. The smell of spring and summer was strong, but your teeth still chattered.

You stand side by side as you wait to cross the street, cars zipping through. You’re too aware of the space you hold between each other. You hold your hands to your chest and look ahead to the reception hall, glittery lights and soft noise wafting through.

“That was beautiful,” Tom comments quietly.

“Wasn’t it?” you smile, brought back to those glimmering emotions. You blink the wetness away from your eyes as you face him for a moment.

I’m such a sucker.

His hair is gelled back neater than usual, though a rogue curl tries to coil at the side of his head.

For…. things………..

“Mhm,” he hums, returning your gaze warmly. Those dark browns caught a twinkle the evening glow. Your heart beats oddly, as your lips pressed together. Tom smiles then taps the back of your arm, looking ahead of you.

“Let’s cross this street now.”

And you walk behind him, following his steps while skipping in your formal shoes, watching the broad sweep of his back in a smart black jacket.

You felt safe here.

Again.

-

Tom stood by your side as you crossed the threshold of the reception hall. The clack of your shoes against the hardwood didn’t catch any new attention but it sounded so fucking loud to you.You felt his shoulders roll back, as yours did, taking in the beautiful sight. Fairy lights and flowers and white drapery, hidden and highlighted by crowds of people. Wah.

You turn your cheek softly to look at him, your lashes fluttering. He was doing the same thing, both cautious of what to do and what to say next. You can’t stand at the entrance forever.

Oh, fuck it all––

“Hey! Tom! Is that you–?” a new voice crackles into range. Said boy ducks down and hollers back to an unfamiliar crowd, stepping away from you.

“Y/N!” and that call was for you, from a blonde you could hardly call yours.

You bounce back to Harrison, quickly hooking your arms into his without thinking. You wanted cover, fast.

Tom’s presence beside you was short lived as you went separate ways to greet some familiar faces, to your frail relief. You both get swept away in the tides of people, hardly saying goodbye to one another. Hm. You look back over your shoulder to see Tom smiling back at you gently. Hmm. He nods simply, then turns away.

See you later.

You suck in your cheeks, feeling a pang of disappointment as your expectations didn’t last long. But it’s fine. It’s fine. You weren’t even counting on spending the time that you did with him. Its fine! Really!

You float between hanging out with Harrison to meeting up with some old friends. Eventually starting to be dragged away by some especially gossip-y pals, Jenn and Sam. You hold on to Harrison’s arm as they tug you away,

“Nooooooo, guys, I can’t leave him by himself!”

Haz pries your fingers off one by one, sticking his tongue out and pointing behind him,

“Don’t worry about me, I have some other chumps to hang out with.”

You tilt your head for a second to see Tom, of course, looking down. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets, laughing to himself, a pretty smile you wish you could have ignored. There’s a little unease that you notice about him too quickly, and that’s when you bounce back up.

Ha.

“Enjoy,” you say quietly, quite literally being pulled to the bar.

Conversation blends in seamlessly, with the help of some casual alcohol and swishy dancing. You haven’t met with them in along time, catching up and dissecting updates you’ve only seen through instagram and facebook. Then that drama starting spilling out as you look deeper into your cup, seeing where it all was heading….

“So, I heard Tom and Mal officially split,” Sam starts.

“Tom and Mal? They were a thing?” Jenn gasps.

“Yeah, official-ish–– right, Y/N? You roomin’ with Mal right now, yeah?”

And you nodded, “Yeah.”

“And they’re over? Done?”

Their eyes both shone bright with excitement, nearly licking their lips for the spill. Please, oh please! Share that shit!

You hold your shakey glass to your lip, wishing you didn’t have to answer this. But under their wide eyed stares and the desire to speak some truth, you squeak,

“Yeah, something like that.”

And they assume the pitying position quickly with,

“Oh, poor Tom. I knew he’d get dumped. He’s too nice and Mal was obviously taking advantage of that––”

And,

“Oh, well, I heard that Mal was just trying to use him to get back with someone.”

“Like, Jon, right? Or was it Tobey? I don’t remember––”

“Yeah, and Tom isn’t the type to date frivolously, so he must have known––”

Their story was wrong, but not so wrong. Just enough to get you itching. Itching to set it straight  and itching about whether or not you had the authority to correct them. Like what, just save Tom’s face, and tell them that Mal got what she deserved? That could be easy. But what happens when they ask about your role in this story–– is it even yours to tell?

“They did look great together though, Tom was head over heels for that bitch.”

“How could she let him go? I mean, the girl was all over everyone all the time, but Tom was a good one.”

They looked for him in the crowd, spotting him and cooing in pity. They were being so obvious, god. And at this point, you really couldn’t help yourself. You spoke in a hushed tone,

“Hm, actually, Tom dumped Mal.”

“Huh? For real?” and “Tells us what happened!”

You pause for a second, trying not to get in too deep.

“I don’t know for sure, but Tom realized he could… be better.”

“‘Be’ better? Not ‘do’ better? What do you mean by that?” Sam pushes, leaning closer to you, stepping by your side so you could both get a view of Tom swaying with some friends.

You shrug, turning your back to Tom, “I don’t know! I just saw the aftermath. I haven’t really talked to him, or Mal. It’s been tense–– you know?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Jenn nods solemnly, but perks up to wave, “We can just ask Tom himself! Hey! Tom! Harrison!”

Gah–!

Both of them are waving and making a scene towards the pair of boys somewhere behind you. You can only hunch your shoulders to brace yourself. It’s not like you could just walk away––

And “poor” Tom didn’t even realize you were there until the last second, freezing as he stops next to you.

Huuuu.

You’re very aware of how close he is.

With no formalities, no greetings, your friends cut right to it, only directing themselves towards the darker brunette,

“So, how have you been, Tom?”

He shrugs coolly, laughing sheepishly. His eyes are a little half-lidded as he blinked,

“Just… ask what you want to ask.”

Woah.

You look at him in dull surprise, Harrison too. You notice the soft pink glow on his cheeks and how he’s supporting himself on one leg. Maybe he’s drunk?  Maybe he’s just that ready to get it over with.

Cheers.

“Sooooo, you? And… Mal?”

“Not a thing anymore,” he shrugs again, holding up his beer bottle and smiling cryptically.

Your old friends turn on the pity again.

“Awwww, but you guys were so cute together!”

You have to squint your eyes at that remark, knowing they were egging him on. Buttering up the situation, but…. Ugh. You hate these kind of exchanges. But hey, transitions are important right?

Tom tries hard not to look at you as he nods slowly, explaining only a little bit more.

“Yeah, we… just didn’t work out. We… we wanted different things.”

You could see the questions bubbling in their pretty lil heads, but they offer some kindness, some room to take a breath.

“Oh, well good on you for getting out, Tom. We’re happy for you.”

And there it goes. You laugh under your breath at their blatant flip of the coin.

Tom smiles a little warmer this time, eyes crinkling genuinely.

“Thanks, ‘appreciate it.”

“And you know,” Jenn sings, shimmying her shoulders, “If you’re looking for a new, new love. There’s plenty of candidates right here!”

She bumps your shoulder, making you fall towards him. You dance a few steps forward, clinging onto his arm to balance yourself. You scoff as you stand up straight, your hand gripping his sleeve and nearly stretched across his chest.

Oh.

He stiffens beneath your touch.

Right.

You pull back to yourself, stepping aside as he clears his throat. Your brows furrow but he continues to speak uninterrupted.

“Ahem, yeah… thanks. I’m still–– I’m figuring things out. But I’ll be sure to do it right next time.”

Next time.

And you crack a one-sided smile, pursing your lips and looking down. Haha.

Harrison gives Tom’s shoulder a hard pat, not to be forgotten.

“If you get a next time!”

Oh, that was a bit pointed. A little sharp.

Tom opens his mouth in reaction, booing. Harrison laughs wide hugging his shoulders as everyone teases. You can’t look straight at him, knowing that you would fold and join into the glee all too quickly.

He looks too pretty in this light.

“Well, we still have some rounds to make,” Haz hugs Sam, then Jenn, then you, “We’ll grab a drink with you later.”

You close your eyes in the short embrace with Harrison, recharging. He squeezes your shoulder and starts to pull Tom away. Tom was in the middle of hugging your old pals, no hard feelings.

He gets to stand before you but speaks to the group,

“Yeah, ‘nice seeing you guys.”

The one rogue curl has turned into three framing his face, his canine pokes over his lip in a warm smile, and you feel the world stop turning.

“Y/N.”

You nod, giving him a quiet goodbye, tracing the lovely expression on his face. You blink softly, calming the pinpricks in your heart.

Damn.

And before you realize it, you’re smiling.

Greaaat.

It’s getting harder to deny that he’s got you got.

Cos now....

I’m actually kind of rooting for you.

-

How great is it that wedding playlists are full of love songs, huh? Gives you lots of material to think about as you bob your head to some bops with a chilled glass of wine in hand.

“I love you” and “I need you,” those are the songs singing. And the warmth in your face? You can blame it on the bubbly.

Right.

You raise your glass with another circle of friends as you spin in a daze. You let yourself blend into the blur of company, focused on remaining present.

Present as in–– not falling too back into those chocolatey clutches. Too soon anyway.

You don’t need to spend this time thinking about Tom. You don’t need to worry about where he is or how you’ll meet again–– in the next hour? After this wedding? Next week or…

Stop!

You’re just two separate people living on this planet, and your worlds don’t need to revolve around each other. At least, not all the time.

Tom is respecting your space, and you his. You don’t know what happened during this month long break, but… you still have time to think some things through. Whatever.

You nod along with friends to the music, finding your attention drifting away as the songs switch to something slower. The spell is wearing off, clarity is coming.

“I’ll be right back,” you hum but sure they didn’t actually hear you, and head to the bathroom.

And what a surprise, he is standing outside talking on his phone.

He doesn’t see you at first, kicking his feet on the floor and spinning alone.  You tiptoe past him, and maybe that was when he notices you–– you can’t fully tell either because you’ve already made it inside.

You make no impression of it, only looking at your face in the mirror. You take out an oil-blotting sheet and press it against your forehead. You look at your reflection, and it simply stares back. Nothing new, just some lines of wear and tiredness beneath your eyes. The usual.

You exit the restroom, and he isn’t there.

Hm.

You make your way, pulled into some conversations and breaking free for another drink, waiting at the counter of the bar. Your fingers tap against the counter fidgeting not out of impatience and––

There’s a raucous eruption of laughter and rustling beside you. You turn your cheek to see none other than, that man. He’s hugging another guy as they stuff a few bills into the tip jar. He notices you this time.

Small smile, and then disappears into the crowd.

You managed to smile back as your drink came and you flit away just as quickly. There’s an incredulous laugh that edges in the back of your throat.

Hmm.

Next, you go out for some fresh air on the balcony and, huh, he’s there, too. Harrison and Tom smoke some cigars with the grooms and you quite literally smack your lips and turn a heel to the other direction.

Not the kind of air you were looking for at the moment.

You sputter a laugh in disbelief, shaking your head as you clomp your way to… wherever the hell else.

God, you weren’t even looking for him! He was just always fucking… right there. Your pace quickens and you focus on the tap of your shoes as you run away––

But there’s something else in your step.

Disappointment?

Maybe it’s weighing on you that he isn’t making any moves. Not that you want him to, but you kinda did expect him to.You see him miraculously after a month and he leaves all those begging and wanting messages and now you see him here and–– nothing.

Shit, Tom. Don’t be such a great guy.

You laugh, shaking your head, feeling your hair come undone a lil. You tuck it behind your ear as you come back to face the twinkling lights.

You’re making it hard to ignore you.

You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back in an attempt to relax. Sliding your way back onto the dance floor, you find friends and hold onto your waning freedom.

Dancing is the best way to get him out of your head. He’s outside, you’re in a tangle, you won’t find him here. You won’t even look for him here!

Shimmy. Sing. Shake. Grind.

Your eyes are closed to just fall in tune with the music, and maybe you’re dancing badly but that’s always alright. Just enough to get the feelings out.

In the throes of expressing yourself with your body, you fail to ignore another body coming up behind you, shushing your friends. Warm hands melt down your waist, rolling with the contours of your hips.

You yelp, jumping up and falling back into the body. You turn to see that it’s just Harrison, laughing smartly. His cheeks are flushed as he hugs your waist close to him,

“Hello there, thing.”

Thing.

“God! You scared me.” You swat at him, as you struggle against his arms to face him. You hug his own waist back easily, fingers spreading across his back. You giggle sheepishly, feeling the full weight of tiredness as you’re finally able to lean on someone.

His warm fingertips gently brush hair away from your sticky face, commenting,

“You’re look beautiful, even 3 hours into this thing.”

“That’s the alcohol speakin’, Haz.”

“No, no.Just accept it,” his eyes soften, watery blue, “I mean it.”

Oh, the pang of guilt.

“Not looking so bad yourself,” you say, patting his cheek. You could feel the beginnings of stubble beneath your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

The song slows and you collapse into a dance together, feet shuffling softly and heads leaned. You take solace on his shoulder, breathing in his manly cologne, still going strong. You can smell a feminine perfume mixed along in there somewhere too––

“So, where’s Tom now?” you callously ask.

“Why are you looking for him?”

“N-no, I’m just wondering,” you callously reply.

Harrison shallowly laughs at your obvious interest, shaking his head to hit his chin against you.

“‘Trying not to keep bumping into you, he says,” you hear a deep sigh come from deep within, “Ya’ll are so annoying.”

His bold hand pats the space right above your ass in poor punishment. You inhale deeply, words spilling,

“I don’t know what to do with… with this, honestly.”

“Spend some time with him, you’ll know.”

You frown, craning to look back at him, eventually standing straight before him, “I… don’t want to.”

“Then don’t look for him,” Haz says firmly, bluntly, clearly.

He’s giving you an empty smile, his eyes icy. And it hurts your heart, hurts you knowing that he’s still having a hard time with this too. You step back, making distance,

“I’m sorry, Harrison–– I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” his eyes close, tilting his head. His perfect hair falls with his movements, “I don’t want you to pity me, just–– just let yourself be happy, or else i can’t move on.”

Woof.

That’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

And you hear it loud and clear.

You don’t know what to say, offering him a crooked smile, eyebrows pulled. You try to give him a look that looks more like understanding rather than pity.

He chuckles, a bit more genuinely this time,

“What are we going to do with you?”

You bob your head. You’re a wreck and you know it.

“Dance?”

“I dare you to dance with Tom.”

“What?No way! I can’t do that,” you look past Harrison as he spins you. That pretty boy is standing alone against the wall somewhere far off. He’s not looking in your direction now, but you could never be sure of where his eyes were mere seconds ago.

“No!”

You want to tell Harrison that you’d rather dance with him, no one else, but that would just be twisting the knife in further. Pure cruelty.

“Come on,” Harrison hugs you from behind, swaying for a moment while he presses his cheek against yours. The grain of his stubble tickles your face as he whispers into you ear,

“There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Easy for you to say, is what comes to mind. There’s PLENTY of things to worry about–– but further burdening Harrison with your troubles is just.... Unfair, and you know it.

Fuck it all.

The song ends, and Haz lets you go with a soft spin and swivel. Your shoes tap on the hardwood, as he motions for you to go. It fills you with a little bit of confidence, if you can call it that.

You make your way, looking back to see the beautiful boy already chatting up some people nearby, his perfect smile on display. There was a little ease given back to you there. A little.

The songs get slower, and it’s harder to make it out there alone.

Your stupid eyes keep trailing back to Tom leaning against the wall, glass in hand. You suck in a breath and finally waltz yourself over to him.

At least you have the element of surprise on your side, right?

“Hey.”

“Ah! H-hey!” he’s caught off guard, pushing himself off the wall to stand tall.

You fall into place next to him, looking around as you control the pace.

“You enjoying yourself?”

You’re aware of how strange this sudden exchange must be, but you’re tired of running in place. You think Tom picks up on that too as his shoulder slumps in casual ease, able to speak loosely,

“Of course, great company and an open bar. It’s a good night.”

You break into a wry smile, wondering who and where his company was. You were out there with his best friend, who was left?

That’s a little mean, haha.

“You’re not gonna go dance?”

“No one I wanna dance with out there,” he bumps his head to the music, looking out into the sea, and back at you.

You exhale, taking a small leap,

“No one for the… past few months?”

Tom fights a grin, puffing his cheeks up as he turns to you fully. His eyes scan over your face, looking for permission to be back on that cheeky shit,

“There’s only (1) person that comes to mind.”

Mmhmm.

“––Well ,a few ones. But you’re the main one, don’t worry,” he jokes with a weak smile.

That’s enough to make you laugh though, his easy teasing. You fix the strap of your dress as you smooth out the conversation with just as much tact,

“So, how have you been otherwise, busy?”

“Yeah, a little bit, and you?”

“Not busy enough,” you laugh, maybe this wasn’t so easy. The nervous energy boiled in the pit of your stomach as you kept talking, “––with work and class and stuff. It’s been slow but i’d rather be stressed. I don’t know it’s weird, being idle.”

“No, no, I get it,” Tom points his finger as he takes a drink, maintaining eye contact, “Don’t overwork yourself though.”

“Thanks.”

And the conversation stops, not flowing to the next thing like it used to.

There should be so many things to talk about, so many things to catch up on, movies, shows, life, anything! But there were still wrinkles you had to iron out, not to be forgotten.

The silence isn’t unpleasant though, though you can credit that to being at a loud and rowdy wedding. Lots of background noise and things to avert your gaze to.

“How’s Mal?” he asks outright and suddenly.

“Doin’ better,” you reply just as earnestly, “Haven’t talked to her much though, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s good. She… really worried me last week, but we left on good terms.”

Thank god.

You face him fully this time too, “I’m glad. That’s great, Tom. I’m really happy for you.”

He puts down his glass, scratching his nose to hide his face. You can see his eyes were a little watery while his brows furrowed,

“Listen, I– I gotta clear some things up with you too. If you’ll––”

You hear the loud crackle of a microphone, eyes directed towards the mass of people rushing to the dance floor. The DJ announces it’s time for the bouquet toss, people pushing beside you asking you to come join, Hands reaching out as they pass.

Uhm, hell no.

You shake your head in rejection, it may just be superstition, but you’ll take no chances. Predictions for the future made you queasy, forever waiting for those star sign events to come true. It’s limiting, in a way. Strings of people pass by you, pulling at you and Tom to join. They smelled a little too hopeful and a little too much like alcohol.

“Come on, you’re single. Just go!”

“No thanks,” you breath.

“Why, are you taken?”

“No,” you had to reply over and over.

You held still, your stomach churning for some reason. Maybe it was just having your future ~love~ predicted and dissected by a crowd of people. You just felt rushed and hot and annoyed. These festivities were meant to be fun, harmless! But you feel too conscious about it in this state.

“Want to get out of here?” Tom offers, expertly sensing your nerves, his hand already hovering over the small of your back.

“Please.”

He takes the outside and you walk along the wall, weaving through threads of people while his hand guides you. You couldn’t look at him, embarrassed about your mini-meltdown as he leads you out into an empty hall. It led to a quiet lobby.

No one was there, the only sign of use were the half-drunken booze littered across a table. There was still plenty of room to stand and talk. You lean against a marble column and look out the window. There’s meant to be a view of the city, sparkling at night, but the glare allowed you to see your reflections. Both of you stood apart and stiff.

You hug your shoulders, thinking of just moments ago, “Pushy.”

“Sorry about that,” Tom offers, leaning against the same pillar, close. “Is this alright?”

“It’s not you,” is all you can return.

You both take the moment to try to look past your own reflections to the outside world, listening to the muffled sounds of the DJ and blurry cheering. Soon enough, you push off the column stand closer to the glass, looking out and seeing clearly.

“I have to apologize for speaking on your behalf… about Mal.”

There’s a beat of silence before he comes beside you again, searching for the same view. In the faint reflection, you see his hand reach for yours and stop, stuffing his back into his pocket. He pretends he hadn’t moved at all.

“No, no, thanks for saying something. I, uhm, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

You both chuckle, looking down–– no one really knows anything. It’s contained, it’s a secret.

It’s stills something that’s only between the three of you.

And it’s all you can think about lately.

What are we now?

During this gap, you’ve spent so much time thinking about what to say, and what you would do when you get the chance to speak one on one…. But now you’re fumbling. So far, you don’t know anything about thisTom. This Tom you have seen for days, weeks, months. You don’t know what he’s being doing, how he’s doing or what he’s even thinking about–– not like before. Not like back when you could read his mind. Not like when you knew, “I’m on my way” meant “I’ll be 10 minutes late, but I’ll be there.”

There’s so little to go off of.

The boy before you wasn’t a complete stranger, but not exactly a friend either.

And you don’t know where to start with that.

You cross and uncross your arms in the dragging echo of silence.

You feel like a child, helpless. You feel like a teenager, confused. But worst of all, you felt like an adult who has no idea what the fuck to say.

It would have been comforting to know that Tom felt the same way, but you didn’t notice that. You didn’t see how his forefinger pressed into his thumb, and how he bit the inside of his cheek, navigating the same path to the truth and apology.

It would actually be a relief for someone to burst in at this moment.

But the time for peace and clarity has arrived, and you both know you shouldn’t let it go.

“I’m sorry for… kissing you the last time I saw you. The last, last time, I mean. At the party,” Tom courageously blurts, turning a frustrated red. He steps back to the column, leaning against it as he balls his hands into fists,

“That’s one the biggest… things I have to say sorry for. And… yeah, you know the rest. I just–– I know that I shouldn’t have done that. The alcohol and confusion isn’t an excuse… and yeah, it’s disgusting, I know.” He trails off, hoping that you would pick up from there. But you don’t, properly giving him time to say what he needs to,

“I–I’ve been so lost for so long, you know? Looking for someone to be with, and Mal was there. She was someone who wasn’t perfect, needed help… Someone I thought I could help. And I wanted to stick through it, but when I met you––aside from what happened between us, you taught me that I deserved better. Better than someone who wouldn’t do anything in return for all I’ve done. That that relationship isn’t… something I had to destroy myself to save,” he looks up, looking for you.

“You just… none of this is your fault and you don’t need to feel bad for any of it. For me.”

Tom laughs, shaking his head more curls and waves coming undone.

“You don’t need to be anything to me. But I’m just going to be the sap that’s still falling in love with you for a while longer.”

The laugh takes a bittersweet turn, and you can tell he wishes he were holding your hand–– anything to physically show you he means it. But you’re not sure you’re ready for that kind of direct touch just yet.

You’re just absorbing it all in. It’s been a tumultuous few months, both caught in a vicious tide. Rolling, tumbling, drowning–– and it’s not an excuse for either of you. You can’t just let things fall where they may.

“No… Tom, I have to apologize too,” you start shakily, after you hear cheers from the vibrating reception.

“For what?”

Breathe.

The past few months of getting close to Tom, getting closer and falling apart, run though your mind. And you really wonder if he thinks that you are blameless in this catastrophe.That you hadn’t seduced him or wanted him while he was promised to someone else.

That’s pretty shit of you, right?

You lick your bottom lip in a small smile, Tom always had that kind of innocence about you. The assumption that you don’t play the game, that you could never wish ill-will. He could never think that you had ever schemed against his relationship.

And you didn’t, explicitly, but….

“Tom,” you dig your heel into the ground, leaning against the window while you watch his face, “I shouldn’t have ever… tempted you–– or spent that time with you. Back then, in the beginning, you had Mal. And I walked right in between you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did, and maybe it wasn’t forcefully or with the intention of taking you away but… it was wrong of me to even try to confuse you. It was selfish and stupid.”

And it hurt everyone involved.

Whether it started with you is up for debate, but you want this cycle of hurt to end with you. Or end with the truth.

You think of Harrison and even Mal. Maybe it’s not your fault or Tom’s fault, but it’s hard to feel blameless as you assess the damage.

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, none of this would have happened and…”

Your eyes shift left and right as you wait for his reply. Tom hangs his head, rocking for a moment before coming back up to smile,

“It’s okay.”

His words hang in the air, releasing you. And something has changed, with your confessions, something has reverted back to those glossier days. He teases,

“I’m glad you confused me.”

You scrunch your nose at your words being brought back.

Tom and Mal’s relationship was rockier than either of you knew at the start, and with your intentional slash unintentional meddling, lots of things came to light, got messy and now… you’re here.

Confused.

Far from the start, but still just as lost.

Tom’s brows raise and soften as he watches your heart on your sleeve,

“I…. I know there’s still a lot to think about but… I gotta say that I’m so happy that you’re still here talking to me.”

You have to laugh, one that you can’t swallow and pretend. You rub the corner of your eye, and muse,

“I’m not that cold, Tom.”

But you had been, and he knew he deserved it.

And while time has not swept away all the hurt, the path seemed a little bit clearer.

There were still some things you couldn’t deny.

“Hey... You know what?”

He hums in response, kicking off the column to come stand beside you again. You could see the pretty wrinkles on the side of his mouth deepen as he breathes into a smile.

You start,

“Despite this mess, I’m glad I got to know you. At all.”

His dark eyes widen as he takes it in, the future still in question. His pale hands yearns to reach out to you, and even with this new confidence he is wary of rejection. Instead he cuts through the still and get straight to it,

“What does that mean?”

You felt caught off guard at his parry, but your answer comes out all on its own.

“It means that, I’ve liked you, Tom. and––”

And?

“I don’t completely want you out of my life.”

You find yourself smiling as you tuck your chin back in embarrassment. That sounded an awful lot like you still felt That Way about him. You shut your eyes and sigh, shaking your head a little bit.

“Not completely?” he repeats, egging you on for more. He leans close to you, making his way back to your heart.

You chuckle under your breath.

“Let’s start over.”

Tom’s brows harden.

You stretch out your hand towards him, which he cautiously accepts as you put out the flames.

“As friends.”

There’s another loud round of applause that echoes through the hall. Shouts and whistles bleed out to the lobby.

“As friends,” he murmurs.

You shake firmly, avoiding his eyes as your hands fall back to your sides. You turn your cheek to face away from him and suggest,

“Let’s get back in, yeah?”

You don’t want him to see the strange, flustered, excited, happy expression drawn so obviously on your face.

“Let’s,” Tom agrees easily.

His hand smoothes over the small of your back, in a brave and bold little show of camaraderie.

Let’s start off as friends.

You smile stiffly, because you don’t want him to know that your heart is pounding like it used to.

That it would be too easy to melt back into that old mold.

Let’s just see where we go from there.

-

As with all romantic dramedies, you enter the party together with no resolution or closure to your prior conversation. And once again, you are immediately swept away into the tide.

You lose each other for a moment, following the flow of people and conversation.  But this time, you find your way back to one another, willingly.

Tom stands tall by your side, instead of cowering away, and you roll your shoulders back with inviting poise. You feel at ease and he smiles warmly.

That’s not to write off the unbelievable and undeniable tension stretching in the small gap between your shoulders. It’s TOO real.

Your hand had bumped his once, and you both jump back and fumble over hurried apologies.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good.”

And it’s back to standing still but not too still. You both manage to relax with your favorite blonde slash brunette makes his way, and stands in between. He’s throws his arms over both of you, drunken weight pulling down as he sways.

You laugh at the rumple in his collar, fixing it while berating him for still being so drunk at the end of the night. Harrison waves the hand on your side and twirls a finger in the air,

“Indulge a little.”

The celebration nears the end as the lights dim and people start making two lines by the exit, standing together holding party poppers to burst over the grooms in the grand finale. A parting gift of glitter and petals and kisses.

Tom has placed Harrison in a chair by the wall, both of you standing nearby. You both snicker  as he rubs his eyes and checks his phone, undoubtedly texting you both.

Facing forward, you hold the small device in your hands as you wait together, scraping to make small talk. Your voice startles him.

“You know, Z is coming back in a week.”

Tom’s eyes widen, looking at you with genuine surprise. He nods, looking for more,

“Oh, for real? Does she want––” His eyes dart from side to side, thinking of his next words carefully.

You finish it for him.

“She wants to see you. And uh-oh, biiiiig trouble.”

“Oh,” he pulls an exaggerated face, tugging at his collar.

“Not all bad trouble. But–– you know, it could help your case if you could help us with the move. Uhm, If I could trouble you with that.”

Tom smiles wide, his eyes crinkling near shut as he looks down. This is your arm stretched out towards him, offering a path back to where he wants to be. But it’s just a feeler, if anything at all.

“Yeah, of course, I’d love to.”

You giggle, shaking your head. No one wants to help anyone with a move, dummy. God, you don’t want to take advantage of his feelings but–– he does have a car and some apologies he wanted to make. Haha, it’s nothing malicious! You could just use the help.

“I can bring Haz and Jacob too, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I don’t have that much shit.”

“Just Harrison then?”

Your eyes scan over him, wondering if he was worried about spending time in the same place as 3 women who were, arguably, after his throat. You really can’t blame him for looking for some protection.

You offer your sympathy with a edging smile, “Yeah, bring the drunkard with you. He’ll be a lot of help, yeah?”

You both turn back to look at him, squinting into the crowd. You laugh as he finally finds you, and offer him a little wave. You turn to Tom to see if he was waving too, but he wasn’t.

His face is close, and tilted towards you. You could see those freckles you missed so much, and the brow you’ve always wanted to tame. You could smell that faint boyish cologne that always reminded you of home––

“Oh! Here they come!” Tom interrupts, his whole face perking up animatedly. His smile is so wide and true, leaving you in a daze and you turn back to the grooms.

They make their way through the lines, dressed in white, only to be covered in glitter and streamers and petals.

You squeal in excitement, screaming congratulations as you pull the string and feel the pop in your bones. Tom is whistling and howling beside you, a cheeky hand making its way across your back.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you watch the new couple pass.

Hey.

They disappear into night, as the crowd collapses into one. You hear stray pops and fizzles, delayed responses but none to go to waste. The flurry of confetti is dense and never ending, feeling like a stubborn snow flurry in the early spring.

You lean into the warm palm into your back, and spin to find it’s owner.

Through falling flowers, muted music and passing bodies, you turn back to Tom.

Lovely Tom.

And he’s found you too, hair tousled just right and lips a rosy pink.

Picture perfect and sugary sweet.

“Hey, you.”

Your back is still blooming with warmth even after his hand falls away.

“Hey.”

Before the flurry ends, he’s pulled you aside to avoid the bustling of people making their exit. The dim light and soft rustling makes you feel small and lonely, yearning to be held again.

Your eyes shift towards Harrison, coming up from his seat and taking a video of the falling flowers. You blink back into your body.

Straightening yourself out, you tuck hair behind your ear, making rogue petals fall out onto the floor. You and Tom laugh, as he brushes his shoulders off and shakes his blazer.

You’re shaking off your dress as Harrison comes up, and Tom speaks low,

“Can I give you a ride home?”

Oh, the night’s not over.

You look at Haz, still in and out of his coordination and seeing that he was your ride… you agree. You walk with the pair of boys clinging to each other into the warm night and softly bump into Tom’s shoulder.

“Did you plan for this?”

He raises his brows to give you a smug smile,

“Nope, only hoped.”

You roll your eyes as you get into Harrison’s car–– Tom must have gotten a Lyft or something. Harrison surrendered his keys and quickly settled into his seat up front. He dozes off quickly, dropping his phone and making no reaction.

Tom snickers as you take a picture of the blonde sweetie, sitting back to type on your phone.

He plays some whatever late night radio music, and it’s quiet in the car but it’s not so bad. It’s comfortable.

You don’t feel the pressure to talk after all the talking you had already done.

You focus on picking off flowers that have gotten into precarious places, and rub the glitter off your skin. You seethe,

“These better be biodegradable.”

And Tom laughs, glitter and paper confetti falling out of his hair.

He takes you home on familiar dips and turn, getting back to your apartment in no time. You almost forgot about your roommate for a moment too––

He parks to the side and as you gather your things he runs out to get the door for you, making you blow up at your hair. You take the hand he offers as you step out,

“Thank you, thank you. That’ll be all.”

You start to walk to the front door, realizing Tom is following you after the car door shuts and you hear his hurried steps. You look at him, lips pressed to avoid a smile. He shrugs,

“Just want to make sure you get inside.”

You both look towards the door, only a short distance away. And reconvene with those dark browns, curious to see what could happen next.

He understands that there’s still a line, still a few things to settle. And you appreciate that–– except for the fact that your insides are buzzing to take him in, to watching something dumb or to catch up or to drink drinks or to just to have him on your couch again.

But it can’t be tonight.

You climb up a few steps, making yourself a lot taller than him, and lick your lips,

“”Thank you, Tom. Uhm, it was nice talking to you again.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he scratches the side of his neck, “This eases some of my worries.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say softly leaning back.

“But I want to.”

You shake your head, throwing your shoulders up as you laugh,

“Stay worried then!”

Tom pouts, slapping his arms at his side in defense, and you only rub your nose.

“Thanks,” he sarcastically nods, continuing the banter. He wants to spend more time with you too, to wrap himself in that fuzzy gray blanket and tell you how much you meant and mean to him. But he rocks back on his heels, trying to get away from your sweet scent and away from the sweet licks of temptation.

Let’s not make the same mistakes twice, yeah?

“Text me when you make it back, okay? Tell Harrison to too,” you conclude, stepping on the brakes.

He smiles a little too wide at the permission you just gave him, and you only realize it a second after. Then the lines of communication were open again, that this is something you will really move forward with–– and as Tom bows his head to hide his ecstatic grin, you catch sight of a stray white petal knotted in his locks.

“Hold on!”

You reach forward instinctively, and he keeps his head lowered. You hold the side of his head with one hand, the bottom of your palm smoothing across his forehead and the other plucking the petal from a nest of gel,

“Got it.”

And he looks up then, with no warning. You hand frozen in place, and ultimately cupping his cheek. Your thumb presses against the corner of his lip, pressed in a gorgeous and heartbreaking smile.

You manage to speak, “Look, silly.”

Your hand shakes as you show him the white petal between your faces, and he defiantly looks past it and straight at you.

“You can keep that,” he whispers, making your hair stand on end.

And it’s funny because your arm lowers, and your hand slides off his burning cheek onto his chest. You smooth down his lapel and hold his gaze before you let your hand fall back to your side. You wished nothing more than to tumble forward, to collapse back into his arms. To embrace him wholly, for him to embrace you back.

To forget the stupid messes made and fall in love with the sweetness again.

“I will.”

There’s still a trust to be earned, a new recipe to follow. Proper ingredients, real sugar and in the end, it’s still gotta taste good too.

But, oh, what would wouldn't do to kiss him again.

To take a bite of that sweet chocolate.

“I’ll see you soon, Tom.”

I wonder what it would taste like now?

-

-

-

A/N: …… FINALLY. OH MY GOD. it’s been like what, 6 months? Since December? This series took a hard hit because of my birthday and holidays and tumblr banning blogs left and right. I’m glad to return to it, and fucking… END it. Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck around, remembered this series and asked for updates! This is for you.

If you can, please like, comment and reblog. I want all of those who have been waiting for this to see the end! Maybe like 2-3 more chapters left?

And i’ll let you know when i can update next. The next one won’t be as long, so maybe i can get it out in a week or two?

Track #LDC or #Like Dark Chocolate to see the updates!

Again, thank you so much and i love you guys! See you very soon.

Peace,

Madmadmilk

[bouchtayahyaoui]

20 Things to try to do During The Coronavirus Lockdown

So, you’re stuck inside just like the kids from “The Cat within the Hat” and going a touch stir crazy during the worldwide coronavirus lockdown. the great news is there's tons of stuff you'll do while waiting out this current crisis. Here’s an inventory of 20 belongings you can do this will make your life better during a lockdown.

1)Read a book (or an entire series):

Now’s the time to filter out your “To Be Read” list, or maybe to read those books everyone’s been raving about. the great news is that there are tons of great

 deals on books and e-books immediately, even newly released ones. And don’t forget you'll also still inspect e-books from your local library’s website.

2)Write that book you’ve been adjourning:

On the opposite hand, if you've got an excellent book inside you waiting to urge out, now’s the time to start writing. If you don’t have a book inside you, maybe you've got some poetry. otherwise, you can keep a journal of what life is like immediately, for future generations. Don’t laugh; history likes to be recorded.

3)Take a web fitness class:

Take a web fitness class. Just because you’re staying home, that doesn’t mean you've got to offer up your workout. Free online fitness videos are everywhere YouTube, otherwise, you can do an inquiry for groups on Facebook or Instagram. regardless of what you’re doing, whether it’s aerobics or running or yoga, there’s a video for you out there.

4)Learn the way to knit (or crochet or cross stitch):

If you’ve been hesitating to find out the way to knit, now’s the time. There are many YouTube videos for beginning crafters. If you don’t have the supplies, get them organized online from a craft or fabric store. Not only that, but there are virtual craft meets happening. Or found out a gaggle together with your friends so you'll all virtual craft together.

5)Learn the way to cook:

Learn how to cook. You may already skill to form some things, but now’s the time to show yourself some gourmet recipes. or even you'll escape the family recipe book and begin making some food. simply because you’re stuck indoors it doesn’t mean you've got to eat boring food.

6)Make bread from scratch:

While you’re within the kitchen, why not make your sourdough starter and learn to form your bread? Not only does one learn a replacement skill, but it’s the newest thing — people are sharing their yeast starters online like they might share pictures of their pets. And when this is often over, you’ll have a replacement kitchen trick to point out off!

7)Teach yourself a language:

Teach yourself a language. Now quite ever it’s easy to find out a second (or third) language. There are many free apps and sites to settle on from, and you'll learn a replacement language in only a couple of minutes each day. Duolingo is one of the more popular apps. you'll learn everything from French and Spanish to Mandarin and Arabic. you'll even learn to talk Klingon!

8)Be your handyman:

Unless it’s an emergency, you’re not getting to get a handyman to repair something during the quarantine. So now’s the time to require out the hammer and drill and make some minor fixes to your home. If you’re in an apartment and can’t put holes within the walls, you'll fix other things too. Is your table wobbly? Get that sorted out now, you’ll be glad you probably did.

9)Do your spring cleaning:

Do your spring cleaning. Does nothing need fixing? Then it’s time for a few spring cleaning! You were getting to need to roll in the hay anyway, so why not get that going? You’ve been wiping down everything with disinfectant for weeks, but now’s the time to try to do a radical job on the kitchen and toilet. And there’s probably more dust than usual since you’ve been home all day, so it’s time to wash that too.

10)Organize all the items:

Now that you’re all shiny and clean, it’s time to map out your stuff. If you haven’t seen the Marie Kondo videos on the way to organize your space, you ought to go watch them. Then start arranging your environment so that, above all, it causes you to happy to be in it. Because you’re getting to be in it for a short time longer.

11)Binge an entire TV series:

Binge an entire TV series. Many streaming services are offering limited free programming or reduced rates immediately, so find a channel you wish and begin watching. Make your viewing time special with popcorn and comfy blankets. It’s time to catch abreast of whatever series your friends are talking about. Or catch a replacement movie that’s being released on to digital rather than being delayed within the theater. It’s up to you!

12)Finish a puzzle:

It’s the right time to require that figure out and put it together — you recognize, the one you said you’d do once you found the time? Well, you found it. Put the puzzle up where anyone within the house can work thereon, and slowly but surely you’ll find yourself with a finished project. It’s an excellent stress reducer and allows you to specialize in something aside from a screen.

13)Clean up your computer/phone files:

Clean up your computer/phone files. Speaking of screens, now’s an excellent time to require care of your computer or mobile. Delete all the apps you don’t use anymore. Empty your virtual trash and take away programs you not use. filter out your inbox. Reorganize the icons on your desktop. Update your passwords. You’ll be glad you probably did.

14)Have a home spa day:

Let’s face it, it’s a stressful time immediately. So there’s no better time to pamper yourself or treat yourself for doing so well. Take an extended hot bath and hear the music you enjoy. Make some aromatic tea and relax. Snooze during a chair together with your pet. permit yourself to require care of yourself. you would like it, and more importantly, you deserve it.

15)Go on a virtual museum tour:

Go on a virtual museum tour. Believe it or not, tons of museums offer virtual tours of their collections online. you'll see everything from the Getty collection to the Winchester Mystery House. Give yourself a fast trip around the world. Visit an area you’d like to go to or revisit a favorite site. Put your brain on a virtual road trip.

16)Let the sunshine in:

This seems obvious but, believe it. Some places are under strict curfew. Some people sleep in apartments with no balcony. confirm you open your blinds and curtains within the morning and let some sun within the house. Open the window and obtain some fresh air, too. Both are essential to healthy living, so don’t deprive yourself of their benefits.

17)Clean out your closet:

Clean out your closet. So you cleaned your house and arranged it, but what about your closet? undergo the entire thing and check out on all the garments. Have yourself a fashion show. Keep the items that you simply like and wear. Get obviate the items that just don’t cut it. Either box it away for later donation to a charity or reserve it for the most important yard sale ever once this lockdown is over.

18)Work on your garden:

Now that spring has sprung, you’d need to leave anyway. If you've got a yard or garden, let yourself play within the dirt for awhile. Pull up some weeds or reduce a hedge. If your garden exists solely indoors, you'll take touch overtime and pamper your plants. Studies show that plants react to people, so allow them to skills much you're keen on them.

19)Wash your car:

Wash your car. Nothing’s better on a bright sunny day than going outside and washing the car. It sounds boring and tedious but really, a bucket and a few soaps bring great therapy. It costs you nothing but a while but gives you such a lot more back. If you’re cooped up with kids, even better: make it a gaggle therapy session!

20)Check-in on others virtually:

Facetime and Skype are vital lifelines immediately. confirm you sign up together with your friends and loved ones, albeit just for a couple of minutes. Stay connected, and if you would like to speak, don’t be afraid to. And if they have to speak, listen. you'll be each other’s support.

[carolemasciotra-blog]

Kitchen Cleaning – A Complete Guide

The kitchen is probably the most intensively used space in every apartment – you cook, eat, and live there. Accordingly, you should clean it often and thoroughly. In this article, we are going to provide you with a kitchen cleaning guide.

Kitchen Cleaning Guide

Once or twice a year, every kitchen needs a thorough deep cleaning. Nowhere else, be it from cooking, baking, or eating, is so much fat and dirt deposited on the surfaces. But because you work with food there, the kitchen should be the cleanest and most hygienic place in the apartment. Splashes on the tiles, encrusted ovens, calcified fittings – with these tips and home remedies, you can bring the kitchen back to shine and make it a clean place of wellbeing.

Clean The Oven

If you don’t have an oven that cleans itself at a high temperature, you have to do it yourself. A self-made paste of baking powder and water is suitable if you do not want to use an aggressive oven cleaner. Before you apply them to the heavily soiled areas, you should fill all the openings in the oven with foil or kitchen paper. Now use the paste to the oven and leave it on overnight. The next day, the dirt can be easily scraped off with a plastic scraper and wiped off with a rag. That also works with heavily soiled baking trays.

Remove Overcooked Food From The Hob

There is no cooker protected from food boiling over, whether ceramic, gas or electric. If you do not remove the traces immediately after cooking, it can be a tedious drudgery later. It is better to let the stove cool down a little after cooking and clean it when it is still lukewarm. In addition to chemicals, the power of the lemon is also suitable for lighter stains on the hob. Soak the affected areas with citric acid, leave for about ten minutes, and wipe with a damp cloth. Stubborn stains can be removed more efficiently with a paste of baking soda and water. Spread the mixture on the hob with a cloth, leave to work for several hours, remove with a damp cloth and polish dry.

Kitchen Cleaning – A Hygienic Sink

The sink is a real issue, where germs of all kinds gather – even more than in a toilet. Therefore, it is imperative to remember it when cleaning the kitchen. To keep the sink hygienically clean, you should wash it out regularly with warm water and detergent (this dissolves grease and has an antibacterial effect). To keep a stainless steel sink optically clean, we recommend scrubbing it with baking soda and a brush. With a bowl made of ceramic or plastic, you should exercise a little more care when cleaning, and it is best to clean it with a soft cloth or sponge and some detergent or all-purpose cleaner. Citric acid helps against limescale deposits – to avoid new deposits, the basin can be rubbed dry every day with a microfiber cloth (ideally after each use).

Don’t Forget The Drain

You should also not forget the rinsing outflow, where, in addition to fluff, there is also food residue – which can give off an unpleasant smell in the long run. Therefore, you should flush the drain regularly with drain cleaner. Vinegar and lemon help to clean and deodorize the drain. Stock up on ice cubes made from pieces of lemon and vinegar and pour a handful of them into the drain every few days.

Clean The Refrigerator

Bacteria and mold like to develop in moist areas of the fridge. However, they then spread to all the food that is in there. You should, therefore, carry out thorough fridge cleaning whenever you are cleaning the kitchen – but surface cleaning is sufficient in between. Here is how it works:

First, clear the entire refrigerator out. Dispose of expired or spoiled food in the trash. Remove all shelves and drawers and wash them in the tub with warm water and a disinfectant all-purpose cleaner or vinegar. While everything is drying, you can clean the interior of the refrigerator. A mix of baking soda, water, and soap is suitable for this, which disinfects and deodorizes. Use it to wipe the entire interior walls and doors. If this does not remove all stains, put a little vinegar on a cloth and dab the stain with it. After 15 minutes of exposure, it should be easy to remove.

Dirt and mold quickly settle in the seals around the door. When you have removed all splashes, stains, and crumbs, you can rub everything dry with a soft cloth, and the shelves can be put back in place.

Clean Natural Wood

Work surfaces and boards made of natural wood require a particular cleaning method. All you need is lemons, salt, and paper towels. Squeeze the lemon juice onto the wood and spread the salt generously. With another half of lemon and rub everything on the wooden surface. That removes all stains and smells from the wood. Finally, remove the excess salt with a tea towel and let the surface dry. To protect the wood in the long term, you should rub it with oil every few weeks; for example, pure rapeseed oil is suitable.

Kitchen Cleaning – Don’t Forget The Dishwasher

Cleaning the kitchen also requires you to clean the dishwasher. Just because it cleans things, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a bit of love. You should clean the dishwasher once a month using special dishwasher detergent. These are small bottles that you put upside down in the cutlery basket or the plate rack of the empty dishwasher and then run through them once at the highest heat.

Why clean the dishwasher when water and detergent are continually flowing through the machine? A special cleaner removes all stubborn residues.

You should also clean the seals and door joints with this cleaning agent or a self-made paste made of baking soda or vinegar cleaner. Also, check the drain for foreign objects and clean the drain filter with a dish brush and a mild detergent. If the filter is not too bad, I often take them out and put them upside down in the dishwasher while I am running the cleaning agent through.

Treat The Microwave With lemon

To remove stubborn splashes in the microwave, heat a suitable container with water and lemon juice for three minutes – and let it stand in the microwave for another five minutes. That will loosen sticky dirt on the inside walls. You can then wipe them off with a damp sponge and dishwashing detergent.

Organize Kitchen Cabinets Sensibly

Over time, a hopeless mess of pasta, cornflakes, spices, and the like develops in many kitchen cupboards. Remove all of this from the cupboards and clean them with water and vinegar. Then reorganize everything according to food and place everything that is frequently used right at the front – this saves time and creates order. Small baskets and labels can help you organize them.

Grease On Surfaces

All kitchen utensils not stowed in a cupboard, like the cupboards themselves and the extractor hood, build up a layer of fat and dust over time. You should remember them when you are cleaning the kitchen. If the items are small enough and dishwasher-safe, remove them regularly and wash everything through (also works with most hood filters). To clean larger areas such as cupboards, doors, tiles, use water, and degreasing detergent. Do not forget to brush the closet; they are often very sticky and dirt deposited. You can prevent this by covering the surfaces with a newspaper, which you should replace regularly.

Polish Stainless Steel With Baking soda

Stainless steel surfaces – such as toasters or extractor hoods – are best cleaned regularly with a damp microfiber cloth. Coarse dirt and rust stains can be removed wonderfully with baking soda. Mix some water with baking soda to get a milky substance. Now put the paste on the stainless steel surface and scrub lightly with a soft sponge – finally wipe and polish everything with a damp cloth, done! By the way, you can also use baking powder can also to remove these unsightly gray scratches on light porcelain dishes.

Kitchen Cleaning – Final Sprint On The Floor

Only when everything shines again in the kitchen, all cupboards cleaned, newly arranged and sorted, should you dedicate yourself to the floor. A microfiber mop is suitable for wiping a tile or linoleum floor, and hot soapy water. Clean coarse stains or discolorations with a mixture of salt and turpentine. You should always use a wood care product to clean wooden floors. That is because they should not get too wet. Also, do not use detergent; this takes the oil from the wood. Now let everything dry, stand back, and enjoy the radiant shine in the kitchen.

Conclusion

Try to keep in mind working from top to bottom of any room. However, if you can, you should try to incorporate this strategy into your schedule.

If you would like some assistance in home cleaning in the New York area, please contact cleaning services queens .

[paizleyrayz]

VIRGO WOMAN: OVERVIEW & PERSONALITY TRAITS

The Virgo woman is the ultimate combination of brains and beauty. She’s got organizational skills for days, not to mention highly developed characteristics and a dedicated work ethic – all of which ensures that the world will get to see her in action, putting all of her brilliance and talents to good use. These are the women making stuff happen – they’re not just all talk. Virgo is ruled by Mercury, which makes for a passionately intellectual mind and a deeply creative streak. Being an earth sign, however, these ladies really shine when creating something tangible from their inspiration.

Virgoan gals may seem like shy and retiring personalities on the surface, but keep an eye out for the frenetic activity they’re creating behind the scenes – these go-getters are the ones to watch when it comes to big business and the arts, and they’re particularly adept when it comes to combining the two. Count on a Virgo woman to have multiple endeavors going at once, but somehow managing them all to the letter – between her devoted friendships, her impeccable taste, and her thriving businesses, a Virgo isn’t one to let things get messy or mess around. How does she do it, you may ask? One clue is to examine her daily planner, which she is never seen without – it will be color-coded, with cute little stickers denoting her doctor and hair colorist appointments, her gym days where she may work out with a personal trainer, and her free time sessions. (Yes, relaxation is something she plans out ahead of time, too!)

The love of a Virgo woman is poetry in motion, a portrait in devotion. When this deeply romantic earth sign gives you her heart, she wants it to be forever. It’s tough for her to play the modern dating game, as casual flings or one-night stands don’t gel well with this medieval maiden’s proclivity toward a love of chivalry. Long-distance relationships that involve lots of swooning love-letters and lovingly wrapped parcels of meticulously chosen sentimental gifts work well for this woman, who might prefer to dedicate the rest of her energy to her career and alone time. In the long run, though, a Virgo wants her mate at home where they can be cozy together – ideally curled up in comfy matching chairs, both reading.

A Virgoan is generally fairly picky when it comes to choosing a lover. This can lead to Virgo ladies being on their own for long spells until they’re ready to settle down and commit to the perfect person. But is anyone ever perfect enough for a Virgo woman? Sometimes these discerning, cerebral women will flip the script and be in a relationship with someone truly surprising, a pairing of seeming opposites: the unassuming bookish, owl-y Virgo will be swept off her feet by a hot biker or rowdy punk. What most people don’t know is that Virgos are the sexy librarians of the zodiac. They’re hiding a lustiness, a high libido, and a love for sex behind their serious and demure demeanor!

Extremely loyal and honest to a fault, a Virgo will stand by you – and she’ll expect you to do the same.

The home of a Virgo woman is a blessed domain, a sacred space filled with beauty and light. This fastidious lady lives by the maxim “a place for everything, and everything in its place,” and she makes sure that, though she has a love for gorgeous little bijoux and objets d’art, things never feel cluttered or messy. Everything is chosen with an eye to detail. Once a Virgo has chosen a theme (like polka dots, lots of lavender, or art deco), she will go over the top with it – taking her decorative traits to the highest level of art form.

Her spice jars are all labeled perfectly. Her closet is a true wonder to behold. Virgos loathe messes, and struggle with lackadaisical housemates who won’t carry their weight when it comes to equal care and labor with household chores. Because the concept of service is this sign’s theme, a Virgo woman will often find herself saddled with the lion’s share of the housework, and do it herself simply because she cannot stand by and let it go undone.

Don’t dare take it upon yourself to reorganize her bookshelves, or put things back somewhere other than where you found them (or just not at all) unless you want to get on her bad side, permanently. Virgo personalities see their home and possessions as extensions of themselves – treat her space and things with disrespect, and she will take it extremely personally. In parenting, the Virgo mama shines – caring diligently for the health and well-being of her babes with a natural grace.

Female Virgos are many businesses’ secret weapons – in that they are usually the quiet, diligent workers who don’t create a lot of drama or project a ton of ego while they are elegantly and effortlessly wiping the floor with their competition.

This sign does not appreciate being micro-managed. Whatever project or endeavor they put their minds to, they are going to execute beautifully, with minimal fuss – provided they are trusted and left to their own devices to get the job done. That being said, when there are too many moving parts and variables (with tricky human emotions), Virgos can become exhausted while striving for perfection. It’s easy to become bogged down in all the tiny details, though a Virgo is adept at untangling the labyrinth provided that no one comes through behind them trying to “help.” Group projects will run into common scenarios where Virgo woman refuses to delegate tasks (and thus potentially sacrifice perfection) and so will stay up all night doing all the work herself, to ensure that everything is just right.

This earth-centered sign shines when running her own business and investing in herself and a vision that is her own – especially when she can hire equally dedicated and detail-oriented managers and assistants to interface with employees and the public. This lets her focus her attention on the big picture and maintain a semblance of work/life balance. Work and personal identity tend to be intrinsically linked to the traits of these women, and they naturally excel at branding. Saving money for the future and investing intelligently come easily to a grounded, practical Virgo – she always has a nest egg tucked away for a rainy day.

Health and well-being are important characteristics to Virgo women, so they love gifts related to body-care and holistic wellness. Gift certificates for massage and acupuncture as well as facials will be very appreciated here – especially at a high-end spa with nontoxic products. Books, handmade jewelry and art supplies always make great presents for your favorite Virgo. Messiness and carelessness are abhorrent for this meticulous sign, whose own gift-wrapping is always an over-the-top work of art. Virgos enjoy fine craftsmanship and love admiring beautifully intricate wood carvings, embroidery, and tile-work. 

If traveling, take them somewhere where they can be constantly wowed by this kind of magic – the decorative arts sections of most art museums can suffice in a pinch. Remember, Virgo is an earth sign, and this is a classic lady you’re dealing with, so keep it natural, organic, healthful, graceful, and well-considered. A hasty, last-minute grab from the all-night drugstore is probably not a better choice than a thoughtful, handwritten card or letter. A Virgo woman would rather have nothing at all than something tacky or meaningless.

―VIRGO WOMAN: PERSONALITY TRAITS, LOVE & MORE