#i apologize if this comes off a little stilted

[transingthoseformers]

Name?

"What's your name?"

The Decepticon looked down to see a small organic. One especially small compared to the others they've just seen. Wet brown optics stared up at them, full of curiosity. The feeling us in its EM field as well. It's a slight little thing, the EM field, but bright enough for the 'Con to notice.

It took them a minute to come up with an acceptable designation. Of course, they were going to lie, designations had power. What had the one autobot called them? A dinobot? Well, they weren't a 'bot by any means, but they could definitely work with the first part. What even was a dino?

"Dynamo. Yours?"

"Cody."

The 'Con... Dynamo, they suppose they were for now, had a question they wouldn't ask. Why wasn't this Cody afraid of them? The autobots were, clearly. One glyph that they heard again and again across the room, rescue bot, finally jogges their processor. It's been a long time since Dynamo had seen that particular brand of 'Bot. Hadn't they all offlined when Cybertron went dark? Probably not, going off the fact that these rescue bots were standing right in fragging front of them.

This Cody was definitely a juvenile, considering how protective everyone else was of it. They chalked up the lack of fear to lack of proper experience with Cybertronians, with the war. Bad idea. Dynamo looked around, that blasted Prime is somewhere. There, by the doorway— where he can clearly see the 'Con at all times. They could say a million things about tht autobot leader, but if there's one thing he isn't it's dumb.

They could get out of here in three clicks if they wanted. Rip the rescue bots apart, successfully evade the Prime, and find somewhere on this Primus forsaken island to comm Soundwave for a groundbridge. Hopefully Megatron would take them back and not ask where they've been in the last few vorns. Worst case scenario, it won't be Dynamo's problem anymore, at the expense of nothing being their problem as well. Best case scenario, he'd assume they were captured (in a way they were... a way), forgive them, and shove them back onto the front lines.

Cody was still there. There's nothing it could do to stop them if they so wanted. Organics are notoriously fragile, none of them would stand a chance against a Decepticon who was really trying. All Dynamo would need is their clawed servos and altmode's sharp dentae.

So, why can't they move? No stasis cuffs, no autobot holding them back. There wasn't any device inhibiting their systems that they could see.

"What do you want, soldier?"

Ah, the Prime.

"Oh, I don't know, what do you want me to want?"

That question was supposed to be sarcastic a d rhetorical.

They wouldn't admit how honest it was.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter Fifteen Dead Disco masterlist

AO3 Warnings: Angst. The storm.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” Your heart breaks on it, on two little words. Breaks apart again at him standing in your door. The silence between the two of you is a scream, and though your tears have dried, there’s still an ache stretching infinitely before you. You peek over his shoulder, hoping Johnny is here too. Wanting to fix the mess you just made, but he’s not.

Simon is alone.

He pulls it wide. His face is twisted. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. The realization nearly brings you to your knees. “Can I come in?”

You didn’t clean the kitchen up, and neither did Johnny. He stood there for too long, kissing you over and over on your cheek, your forehead, your mouth and profusely apologizing, tugging his jeans up over his hips. Frozen afterwards, the two of you, fire and fuel once burning in your veins now ice cold, slithering under your skin like a disease.

That’s what you are. Who you are, who you were. An illness. A plague.

A slowly healing thing.

You always thought they made you better.

“I’ll stay, I should-“ 

“He’ll wonder.” You stared at the floor. “And he’ll worry, you know he will. He’ll be scared something happened to you.” 

“Darling, I dinnae want to leave ye right now-“ 

“I’m fine. Go.” 

Simon doesn’t try to touch you. He takes inventory of the mess, the caramel puddle of coffee spilled over the edge of the counter to the floor, the knocked over stagnant water and paintbrushes.

You become starkly aware, too aware of the state you’re in. The state of your apartment. The state of your brain.

You wish Johnny was with him. You want it to feel like before.

You can see his face so perfectly in your mind, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips. Anxiety twists your stomach, worry about how he’s doing, what he’s doing weighing you down.

Still. Simon is steadfast. He’s the ship in a storm and you’re the sailor, clinging to a mast, praying to god you’ll survive.

“Are you-“

“I’m sorry I was so emotional on the phone.” You rush out, cutting him off. His brows knit together, prodigious sympathy in his eyes, golden brown refracting.

“I’m sorry for calling.”

“I’m… I’m glad you did.” He steps closer, and then away, opting to stand to the side, still taking stock of the kitchen, studying the orange pill bottles on the counter. “New meds?”

“Yeah.” The conversation is stilted, a dam preventing a flood.

“Are they working out?” You shrug.

“The one makes me really forgetful, but it’s not so bad.”

“That’s good.” You’re nodding and can’t stop. There’s a part of you wanting so badly, so desperately, to go to him, to bury your face in his chest and let it all go.

And there’s another part that doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to reconcile any of this.

“Will you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Confused. Sad.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, darling. Whatever you’re feeling is okay.” Your stomach rumbles at the exact same time, and his lips quirk to the side. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Have you eaten today?” You can’t force your mouth to give the answer, the obvious no, so you shake your head. “Do you have groceries?”

“Some.”

“Can I make you something to eat?” You suck in a sharp breath. Can he? Will you let him? Will the two of you revert to these roles, like no time has passed? Have you not made progress, have you not grown? 

You pack the shame of it away, burying it deep. You’ll try to unpack it later, on the couch, in front of the doctor. You’ll talk through every second, pick it apart and try to put it back together again. You’ll rip yourself open, expose your soft spots, the ones that bleed more than any other.

She’ll tell you it’s okay.

She’ll ask you how you feel about the decision.

You’ll say you don’t know, as you always do, and she’ll say that’s okay too. You don’t have to know right now. She’ll tell you there is nothing wrong with the way you feel, just like Simon does.

There’s been intensive therapy, to get you to this place. To drag you across the finish line. Sessions after sessions, four days a week.

It was a bargain. She promised not to have you sent involuntarily, and you promised to be in her office every other day.

Still, she doesn’t know Johnny, doesn’t know Simon. She doesn’t see how they love, how they exist.

You take a deep breath. “Yes.”

You watch him from the couch. Curled over the armrest, your chin on your elbow. His shoulders, chest, flex under his t shirt, opening cabinets, searching for things in an unfamiliar place.

You’ve never felt more loved by him than you do in this moment.

A man willing to push everything away to take care of you, to disregard himself in favor of you, to put himself aside every time he steps through the door to focus on you.

A man who knows what's coming. Who's always been able to see inside you, and yet, still makes you dinner. Still cares for you in the way he knows how. 

All you ever wanted, was to feel loved by them. Separately and together.

Now you feel it more than ever.

You tried to force a circle into a square. 

You think about Johnny again. About how he’s at home, penitent, destroyed. You think about how he must feel, knowing Simon is here, and he’s there. You ache for him. Wish you were settled between them in bed, his body against yours, the steadfast pace of his breathing evening your own out. You want him to hold you. 

You wish he was here.

You ache without your pieces.

But you know it’s not supposed to be this way.

“Darling?” The cadence of your moniker pulls you away from yourself, and you look up.

He’s crouched in front of the couch, nearly eye level with you. “You’re crying.” You tap your face, surprised. You are, the realization abrupt, the onset of them too acute.

“’m sorry.” You choke, and he murmurs softly.

“It’s alright. You’re okay.” His thumb finds your cheek, carefully sweeping them away.

“I’m not.” The truth is agony. You’re not okay. You weren’t okay when you fucked Johnny, and you’re not okay now. You haven’t ever been okay, and it hurts so badly. It stings deep down in your heart, your belly.

Your tears rush out of you, and Simon moves, comes around the side of the couch.

He pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face in his chest.

Hiding. Relying. Letting him carry you through. 

“Simon…” You sob, and he rocks you, arms tight, resolute in their hold.

“Shhh, I know. I know, it’s okay.”

“I d-didn’t mean for this to happen.” You’re talking about Johnny, but you’re talking about everything. The struggle, the agony. Everything.

“I know you didn’t. I don’t want you to worry about that.” The feeling inside you is more than pain, it’s death, it’s excruciating. There’s a piece of you dying, crumbling, turning to ash. You’re trying so hard to hold onto it, to keep it inside, but it comes out with these wretched sobs, the ones that split your ribs open and bleed you dry.

He holds you through it. Holds you tight enough the pressure eventually calms you, and there’s nothing left except the soaked circle on his t shirt and your tired, wet eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes a deep breath, still clinging. “Let me feed you.”

“Okay.”

He sits next to you at the little table where you usually try to eat alone. Where you drink your coffee, alone. Where you pick at your food, where you swallow a handful of pastel-colored pills with a glass of juice every morning like clockwork. Like a robot.

You manage more than a few bites. Breakfast for dinner, one of your favorites. You know he picked it because you love it, and he wants to make you happy.

It only makes you lachrymose. “I’m sorry about Johnny.”

“It’s not your fault, darling.”

“Don’t be mad at him.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“It wasn’t… he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who put him in that position. I kissed him and-“

“He knew better. I don’t want you to dwell on… that.”

“I love him.” Your voice cracks.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, darling. I know.” You’re going to cry again; you can feel it. The acid starts up behind your eyes, and though you’re not sure you have anything left, they pool along your lower lids. “None of that.” He soothes. “C’mon. stay here, stay with me.” You shake your head.

“I l-love you both, so much. It hurts.” He blinks furiously, and then through your own blurry vision, you see his tears. The ones that slip reluctantly through his lashes, down his cheeks.

“We never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, and you d-didn’t. It… it hurts Simon. It hurts and I don’t know why.” He tugs you from your chair and into his lap, hauling you up onto his thighs. “P-please-“

“Just… let me- let me hold you, darling. I don’t want- I want to feel you.” He cheek rests on the top of your head, and you cling to him, a child lost, a sailor scared in a storm.

He knows.

You know he knows. You feel it in the rapid pace of his heart, the shudder of his shoulders.

He knows. He knows it better than you do.

And maybe he always has.

“You were right.” After a while, he whispers in your hair. “And so was I, even though I didn’t want to see it. It was never fair.”

“We wanted it… too much.” That much is more than true. You wanted it so desperately, and so did they, you know it. You don’t doubt their love for you, though the scales have always been imbalanced. Imperfect puzzles, trying and failing to click together.

“I’m sorry, I… we, were so selfish.”

“I wanted you to be.”

“It still wasn’t right.”

You sit there for hours, curled up on his lap, listening to him breath, memorizing his heartbeat.

You think of Johnny for the hundredth time. You want him to be here. You want him to hold you too. You close your eyes and try to remember how he feels, your love for him overflowing into a mountain of more and more agony. For both of them. 

“I should go.” Simon finally says, shattering the moment, and you nod.

It’s a death march to the door.

“Will you come by, to see us? I mean… to… talk to us. Together.”

“Yeah, I… I will.” The guillotine waits in the wings, a final chorus cut off by a symphony.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead.

“I love you, darling. We always will.” You nod, but say nothing, cheeks wet again.

He turns away, rolling his shoulders, heading down the hall.

There’s something building in your heart, an explosion, fear compounding.

“Simon! Wait.” He stops. You close the gap, tugging him down until your lips crash together, warm and salt soaked and full of torment, suffering. “I love you.”

This time, he says nothing. Only kisses you again, long and slow, before taking you by the shoulders and intentionally stepping away.

“I know.”

You stand in front of their door for too long.

You wish there was something you could take, something you could do, to release you from this. To build a barrier around your heart so you don’t have to feel it. Any of it.

There’s not, and you know that.

You know you must succumb to the water, dip your head below and hope you come up for air on the other side.

There’s nothing left to do except this.

You lift your fist to knock.

“This is my fault.” Johnny cries, and you squeeze his hand.

“It’s not. It’s… it’s all of us. We did it together.” Simon kisses his temple, rubs his back, and he leans into him, face buried in his shoulder. The guilt eats you alive, knowing that the last time you truly spent with him was when he was inside of you. You wish you talked to him more, made him feel loved, told him how much you cared.

But you were selfish.

And so was he.

“It’s not your fault, sweet boy. I promise.” Simon tries to soothe him, but  Johnny slams a fist into his knee, so hard you wince, and Simon grabs it, fingers firm around his wrist. “Stop. Stop now.” He strokes a hand through his mohawk. You struggle to breathe. 

“I love you so much. That’s… that’s never going to change.” Johnny shakes his head as Simon closes his eyes, nose dipping down into his hair.

“Ye cannae leave us, darling. We need- I need ye. I love ye… p-please.” The three of you are crying, sliced open, surgically diced into cross sections for an autopsy.

The death of a relationship.

The death of three parts to a whole.

“Johnny.” You say his name, over and over, until he pulls away from Simon and tugs you close. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, committing his scent to memory.

Simon wraps his arms around you both.

You feel whole. A puzzle complete. A sunrise after a storm.

And that’s why. 

“I love you.” You kiss the shell of his ear, soaking him with your tears. They’re everywhere, dripping down your face, your neck, your shirt. You can barely keep your breathing steady, despair restricting your lungs. “I’ll always love you, Johnny. Always.”

“Please.” He sobs, shakes, holding onto you so tight. “Dinnae leave me. Please.” Your heart is shredding to pieces. Ribbons of blood and muscle trying to contain too much, unable to cling together. His pleas are enough to make you second guess yourself, to make you nausea enough to nearly throw up.

It’s beginning to become overwhelming, and in the throes of your building panic, you glance wildly at Simon.

He stares back. Nods. Wraps his hands around Johnny’s shoulders and tucks him back into his chest. “No!” Johnny hisses, but Simon holds him steady.

“I’ve got him.” He says, voice broken.

You sit frozen like a deer in headlights.

“I love you.” You cry, and hope they know it’s meant for both of them.

It’s always meant for both of them.

Simon takes one last long look at you and closes his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” He whispers, hoarsely, and the final piece of your heart breaks. “Go.”

Can you? 

Do you have the strength? 

The sun is bright on your face.

It’s warm, and beautiful, the promise of something new, something different. You stand on the sidewalk, devastated but-

Unafraid. Imperfect pieces, slowly stitching together to make you whole, all on your own.

Without Simon. Without Johnny.

Just yourself.

It’s terrifying. Heartbreaking. And it’s only you now.

You, figuring out how to exist in a world too harsh for your heart. You, without the protection and promise of your other pieces, the ones who came home to you every time, the ones who put you back together. You, learning how to take care of yourself, to truly do it, for the first time.

You, who is not broken.

You, who is stepping forward without darling.

You who is just… you.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Four (The final part!)

This is the final part of this little story! Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one! Cheers to finally meeting Bob!

Read Part One and Two and Three

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 9700+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Gentle Jake, Mention of throwing up, mention of a rank kink, lots of apologies, Bob kinda ruining things at first but things get better I promise!!

---

I want to rip my arm away from Jake's gentle grasp. I hate how he still holds me so kindly after how I treated him. After I ran. Tolerant fingertips against stilted skin. The area feels exposed. I feel exposed, too. Jake's hand is still on my elbow, warmth trickling into streams of amenity. There is no nettle of anxiety and that fact makes me want to cry. Fuck. I don't really want to cry, not again. But the gentleness of this almost perfect stranger tempts the fate of my tear ducts. 

The breeze sends an achily dry feeling over my tear chapped skin. I grimace lightly at the feeling.  It's nothing but mere distraction. It's nature's own fingertips grazing against my skin.

"You ran," Jake starts, his eyes darting over my face but never settling exactly on my eyes. His tone holds no accusation, thought it should be dripping in it. Instead, Jake remains soft spoken. He drops his hold on my elbow. I miss it as soon as it's gone, worried that now, I may float into space with nothing to tether me down. Nothing to tether me to this: here and now. 

"I did," It's a confirmation that pains me as it leaves my lips. 

"I'm sorry I scared you," The apology catches me off guard. So does the way Jake looks broken up about it. God, that makes me feel worse. And then I'm surging forward to wrap my arms around him. For a moment, it's just like it was in the airport, awkward and clunky. Then he relaxes a bit, wrapping his arms loosely around my shoulders. 

Maybe this is what our relationship is bound to be, not written by the universe, but instead untangling from the bonds that came before. Maybe that's what friendship is. The unabated way we fold each other into embraces. My aplomb tendencies when it comes to the truth and the way it meets Jake's largess fits together like patchwork. Stitches made of brazen conversation hold us together, felicific. 

"It wasn't you that scared me, it was the fucking words!" I explain, though it comes out all mumbled, though urgent, into the fabric of his flight suit. I turn my head, pressing my ear into his chest.

His heart beats in my ears, off rhythm with my own. Thump, thump, thuthumpump, thumpthump. Thump thumpthump, thump, thump. 

"I have carried these words around for so long, and I've always hated what I thought they meant. I always understood it as a negative, and I never understood that it could be so gentle. And I know that you didn't pick them out to mean more than just simply what they do. But, Oh, it's just Bob, seriously?" I'm somewhere between laughing and crying by the end. Jake rubs a hand up and down the length of my back, right over my spine. It's warm and comforting. 

"Still, I'm sorry," Jake mumble, his chin resting atop my head. 

"Well, even though you don't need to apologize, apology accepted," I squeeze him around the middle, punctuating my words. Thump thumpthump thump.

"Thanks, Birdie," Jake hums, his hand never stilling. We stand like that for a few moments, the wind blowing past us. It's barely lukewarm and cooling under the slow dying sun. Jake's hands are torrid in their place around my body, an even heat exchange. 

"I wanted to punch you," I admit, not even feigning sympathy. "Not today- but, a long time ago... Somewhere around fourteen I got fed up with the way people reacted to the "just " in my sentence. Everyone always saw it in a bad light, and it made me want to punch whoever said it, or would say it."

"Do you still want to punch me?" Jake's laugher rumbles over the beat of his heart. 

My laugh rumbles over mine too. "No. I just... I decided that Bob is my everything so long ago, and so at the time it felt right to throw hands over him."

Jake's laughter doesn't stop, instead the rumbling in my ear gets louder and louder. He mumbles something about how Bob would turn bright red if he'd heard that but I think it was meant more for himself than for me. Silence overtakes us, save for the usual bustle of the airfield and the ever present sound of our heartbeats. Thump, thump, thump. Still, Jake keeps up his ministrations against my spine. 

"What's he like?" The question breaks the silence. A jet takes off somewhere in the distance, neither of us comment on it. 

"Bob?" Jake inquires, his hand stilling. 

"No, Jay Leno," I gaze up at him with one of those seriously looks on my face, the best one I can muster, "Yes, Bob," 

"Well..." Jake takes a deep breath in, swishing his words around in his mouth like a sip of expensive wine, "You've got a good one, Birdie, truly. He's one of the best men I know. Smart as a whip, quiet, observant to the point where never misses a damn thing, it drives us all nuts," 

Jake's laughter thunders. 

My heart stutters, still I'm quick to quip back a response. 

"Everyone or just you?" 

"Oh, shut it," The words are all playful. 

"He looks just like Rhett," I mumble. I take my bottom lip between my teeth, rolling over the fullness of it. Jake erupts in heavier laugher. 

"Yeah, twins usually do," 

"Shut up," I retaliate quickly, releasing my lip to make sure he hears me. "How is Rhett? I feel so bad for running. Fuck, I haven't even apologized to you. I am sorry, Jake, I really am," 

"You don't have to apologize. I was there, remember? I know how it went down. I probably would've run too," Jake admits, resuming his motions up and down my spine. 

"I don't think that makes me feel any better," I hide my laugher in his chest, my barely wet skin almost squeaking against the material of his flight suit. "But thanks anyway," 

"You bet," Jake hums, "Rhett is alright, worried. We... We didn't really get a chance to talk about the airport thing because Bob picked us up. I think Rhett was avoiding saying anything so he didn't say the wrong thing," 

"I don't think you can say the wrong thing," I pull away from the warmth of his embrace to look up at him, "It's all predestined, you know. And if they are close, wouldn't Rhett know what Bob's sentence is anyway?" 

"You would think," Jake chuckles. 

"Do you know what his says?" My voice wavers at the question. I probably shouldn't have asked. Fuck my curiosity for getting the better of me. Another jet takes off, loud and unbothered by our conversation. 

"I do," 

"And?" 

"I'm not going to say as it's not mine to share... But..." A few beats pass between us, a jet soaring overhead. It buys Jake nothing more than a few seconds.  "I think I'm the one who's supposed to say it," There's only a sliver of apprehension in his tone. 

"How do you figure?" 

"Because I know the words, and I know that we are standing here right now having this conversation and by now I'm sure everyone else is in that hanger waiting on me to show up to start the hop," Jake brings his hands up to my shoulders, pushing me back far enough to look at me without having to crane his neck. "And I know that we could wrap this up right now and walk back to the hanger and I could say those words and everything would go from there, just as it should."

"Right now?" 

"Right now," I can barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I swear, if it wasn't for his hands on my shoulders, I would be vibrating away from how hard my heart is hitting my ribcage. 

"It's not too fast?" I ask, finally deciding on some sort of sentence that doesn't really capture what I'm trying to say. 

"Bridie, people wait their whole lives for this. They fight wars and move across the world for this. They take the same bus to work everyday. They run for political offices. They develop apps and services for this sort of thing and right now, Bob is sitting in that hanger right there," Jake thrusts a pointed finger towards the hanger, his tone getting a bit louder with each sentence, "And you are standing here asking me if it's too soon?" 

"I guess I just-"

"Bob already talks about you," Jake interjects, not caring for my excuses. 

"He doesn't even know me," I retort, once again defensive. There is a part of me that wishes I'd stayed hidden away in my father's office, staring out his too big windows and allowing myself to bargain over the importance of this situation. Instead, Jake is like a reflector for excuses and bullshit, cutting through all of the excess and highlighting the point with less than eloquence.  My heart still pounds, I can feel it in my fingertips as they graze over my thighs. I try and push the incessant thumping sound out of my ears in a better attempt to hear what Jake is saying. 

"It doesn't matter. Bob's a quiet guy, but when he is talking, it's often about his soulmate. He wonders, usually out loud, about what you will be like. He worries too, about if you'll care he's in the Navy, or that he's a Wizzo. He worries that you'll hate moving all the time, or won't want to be with him because there's the risk of deployments and all the other bullshit we go through. At the bar, he wonders about what your signature drink is, and if you like to play pool or if you prefer darts, or dancing. He hopes that you'll be beautiful, but not in the face or body, but in the soul. I'm telling you Birdie, he wants to know everything, and he's not very good at waiting for it," 

I can only stand there, still as stone with Jake's hands cupped over the caps of my shoulders. I can't even flounder over words. There are none stuck in my throat, in fact, for the first time in a long time I am speechless. 

So Jake continues, "Birdie, Robert Floyd is head over heels for you already. My Mama always used to say that there is no difference between a wise man and a fool when it comes to love, and looking at Baby on Board I can say that, and I mean this as kindly as I can, there is no telling if he's wise," There is a chuckle stirring somewhere deep in his chest at the notion. 

"That's a lot to live up to," I mumble, hoping Jake misses the words over the jets racing over us. He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. 

"You're not living up to anything, Birdie, that's the thing. Bob hasn't even met you yet and you're everything. I already know it," Jake's admission is brazenly honest in a way that has me teetering over the precipice of my own self conscious mind. "And think about it this way, with as much time as he spends talking about ya, think about how much time he spends thinking aboutcha,"

Jake has a point, as hard as it is to admit. 

"Can I be honest about something?" Jake's shoes are the most interesting thing in the world, with the way my eyes are locked onto the dark leather. I trace the eyelets with my eyes, up the wrapping of the laces to where the legs of his flight suit are bloused into his boots. 

Jake's hands slide from my shoulders, hitting his thighs with a low smack. "Have we not been?" 

Glancing up, I take in the sight of Jake's crimped expression, how his eyes glint in the lowness of the sun. His shoulders dip. A deep sigh escapes from the prison of his chest, edged with more concern than hostility. It's met with my own, the lukewarm air swirling in my lungs only to mingle with the wind again, now a few degrees hotter. Everything feels hotter now. 

"Brutally," The word is overwhelmingly correct, cutting the tip of my tongue as it passes. "But I think I have more to say before I reach a consensus or a breakdown."

 I chuckle out a dry laugh. Jake nods, squaring his shoulders just a little bit. It's an urge to continue, not that I needed one at this point. 

"Up until this point, I don't think I ever thought past wanting Bob. I decided that Bob was it for me so long ago that I never found a need to think past it," I shove my hands as deep into my pockets as they will go to keep myself from picking at my nails. 

"I've never been focused on finding him. Never focused on if he would like me, or if I would like him because I knew that it was in the hands of the universe, you know? And maybe if I believed in a God or something it would be in their handsand then I really wouldn't have to think about it. I mean, the universe picked me for Bob and him for me, so why would there be anything to worry about? But..."

My gaze finds itself just over Jake's shoulder, fixated on the hanger. The hanger that Bob is probably standing in waiting for the hop to start. Maybe he's cursing out Jake for being late. Or sitting next to that beautiful brunette laughing like there isn't a care in the world. Perhaps he's worried about being late, the hop in the forefront of his mind. It could be what he's going home to after work. Maybe he has a cat, an entire collection of Lego flowers, or an alcoholic roommate. 

Standing here for just a few moments longer keeps that information at bay, along with all the questions I'm too afraid to ask myself. 

And even though Jake swears six ways to Sunday that Bob wants me, maybe it's just because he thinks he has to. What if Bob only likes me because the universe told him to? Or what if he doesn't like me at all- the whole thing just an overexaggerated front to keep those he's closest to from asking questions. 

There are so many questions. 

Jake sways into the forefront of my now glassy vision, his face just a little out of focus. His brows are furrowed, tightening as I blink a few times to refocus everything. 

"But what? What is it?" Concern. There is so much concern in the gravel of his voice. 

"I... I think..." Another deep, slow breathe of air that smells thick of jet fuel. It burns my lungs as it passes, more now than it has before. Everything burns more now. I can feel my skin glazing at the heat, like I'm more glass than paint. More sugar than starch. More myself than destiny. 

"No, I know," I meet Jake's eyes, ignoring how they burn too, "I don't want Bob to like me out of obligation. I don't want a relationship born out of a feeling of moral imperative, or because he's being backed into it. I don't want him to fall in love with me, I-"

Jake looks addled, and maybe...  marred? There is something unreadable in his expression, his eyes ever fixated. I only stutter for a second, over my words, over that look, over the glazing of my own flesh. 

"I want Bob to walk into love with me," There's a scuff of realization the moment the words are said, something akin to a record scratch. I am more than a predestined prediction, a proportional kind of perfect. "I can't have the same retronym love story of duty with no real choice. Soulmates or not, Bob needs to choose me or I'm not the one for him."

The conclusion is finite and final. That's all it needs to be.

Jake is all slack jaw and flashbulb eyes.  His hand make's it's way slowly through the air until it's stoking back his hair. He follows around the top of his head until he's at the nape. Scratching at the back of his neck, Jake still looks my way. I can't see anything in his face other than astonishment bordering on incredulous. A small part of myself, a part that I didn't know existed past the pedant preteen years that bled into formalist youth, begs for a sort of validation. But I stay quiet. I don't need Jake to dignify this. Not when I know in my bones that it's true. 

We stand just like this for a few minutes. I count the number of deep, slow breaths he takes. Three thousand three hundred sixty miles the Earth has rotated in the time it took Jake to take just under forty five deep breathes. 

My heart beats hard against my ribs, and for the first time today I spend a moment calculating my heart beat. It's more than thumps thrown against the backside of my ribs. In times like this I break the world down into numbers, into something tangible and bite sized- easily digested. Somewhere around beat eighty five a jet pulls my attention away. 

Jake's eyes are locked on the ground in front of his toes. I can just barely see the way his eyes trace the hairline fractures of the concrete. They mirror the fractures of this conversation, though words go unsaid the concrete beneath out feet seems more like ice. We are drifting. 

"You've made me reevaluate this entire thing," The words are a mess of mumbled whispers feathering off his tongue. Then he laughs, one of those thick honeyed laughs that rattles your entire being. I didn't bring this point up to have Jake question his entire reality and from the sound of his laugh all slick and marred he may be doing just that. 

"Let me ask you something," My words are somewhere between a peace offering and a threat of war. An olive branch paired with cocklebur and thistle; a fucked up bouquet. "Do you love Bradley?"

"Of course I do," There is no hesitation, just conviction, "He's my everything," 

"Are you in love with him?" The words are like chem trails hanging visible between us. Jake's tongue laves over the corner of his mouth for a second. Our eyes meet and he cocks a small smile. 

"Honestly, he's the only person I've ever been in love with. I think I was in love with him before we even got together. Somewhere between butting heads over work shit to the time we hauled each other into that filthy bathroom stall while on shore leave, I fell for him. We uhh..." There's another moment of hesitation, heavier than the one before, "Rooster wasn't looking for his soulmate. Too much tragedy and loss when he was growin' up. He didn't want to lose anyone else. I on the other hand have one of those sentences,"  

Jake fumbles with the zipper on his flight suit, his fingers shaking just a tad. The zipper pulls with a metallic buzz all the way down to his waist, far enough for Jake to pull his left arm free of the fabric. With a twist of his arm, I can read the fragile script inked into the soft underside of his bicep, I just hope he's okay.

Two beats and a breath. 

"Is he?"

"Not all the time, but, things with Mav are getting better everyday. He still struggles but that's life," It's all warmly honest and sweet coming off of Jake's tongue. I share a smile with him. Jake traces over the words with his thumb, pulling gently at the skin. The air between us is lighter now. I am no longer counting heart beats. Instead, I let them pass through my chest without a second thought. The seconds pass, the Earth rotates and I breathe without fraction.

"But enough about us," Jake waves his hand in dismissal, "Are you ready?" He pulls his flight suit back over his shoulder, threading his arm though. The zipper hums that metallic zip again as I chew on the inside of my cheek. Am I ready? I don't know, but standing here under the slow setting sun makes me feel like I could be.

"How long does the beginning last?" I meet his eyes with question. His jaw ticks but the corner of his smile ticks up too. There is so much knowing in that look. 

I've always been more at home in endings. With autumn, dying flowers in vases, and sunsets. Last words, whispered goodbyes, and the feeling of fingertips grazing palms after handshakes; those make sense to me. 

Beginnings and I are strangers sharing fleeting glances. We are curtesy smiles across crowded rooms when our eyes meet on accident. Business cards and for sale posters pinned to public bulletin boards and the passing of cigarettes at concerts. Beginnings haze past me and if I don't move, don't breathe, don't blink, I can coast into the now, the middle of moments, what's left between the beginning and the end.   

"Only a second," 

Jake takes my hand in his own. He rubs his thumb reassuringly over the joint of my thumb, our palms pressed together. Gently, he's guiding me back to the hanger. The whole ordeal is regulated by his kind touches. My skin burns under his hands, but it's not that romantic kind of burning. Instead, Jake's fingertips pressing into my skin are a smoke signal; I follow it diligently. 

The walk to the hanger is quiet. No words spoken between us. The only sounds come from the base itself and the way our shoes hit the pavement. I wish there was a sort of de rigueur for situations like this. A handbook outlining exactly what you're supposed to say in the limbo moment between past and future. It's that moment where the word present doesn't quite fit. It's too liminal, a sort of aberration. Jake's soothing touch is pithy in the same way it is integral. 

The sound of our shoes against the pavement changes as we pass through the threshold. It's far less crunch and a bit more scuff, now. Jake's boots are louder than the soft rubber of my sneakers. They give me a little bit more height, in turn I feel harder to miss. As if the only civilian in a hanger full of flight suit clad aviators would be difficult to miss in the first place.

We only make it about half way into the hanger, just about the point where the chilled breeze warms over when Jake stops me. I go to take another step but his hand tightening around my own. It's a quiet plea to stay put. There's more to unfold, and for a moment I wonder if the beginning has past yet or if I'm on the cusp of it. Jake separates his hand from mine, the warmth of his palm sticking for a few fleeting seconds. 

Maybe that's how much time the universe spent connecting souls together in friendship. The few fleeting moments in the flick of a pen, ink still drying on the parchment of the universe. 

The aviators all sit facing the board at the front, a couple to a table. There's only six aviators sitting, but that accounts for the main team, save for Hangman walking up the aisle. My father, Tom and Pete are at the front of the room, similar to the way I left them. Now, though, Pete is leaning against the table with his husband rather than taking up residence on the floor. My father is still sat in a chair at the front, but he's now facing the group of young aviators. His eyes catch mine from across the room, a small reassuring grin taking it's place on his lips. It keeps me from wavering, then it disappears as fast as it came. 

I catch Tom's eyes next. From this far away, the usual stark blue of his eyes are less icy. Now, they're more soft, welcoming like a clear sky. He places a hand on Pete's knee, the younger man agog with excitement to the point where he's almost buzzing. He must've spotted Jake and I when we walked in, but the famous Maverick is good at keeping people's attention where he wants it. Everyone's eyes are still focused forward on him as he natters on.  I will my ears to hear over the newfound sound of blood thrashing through my ears. 

But it's not Pete's voice I catch, instead it belongs to a woman.

"Why are you two sharing this story now? I know that Payback and Coyote have been asking about this for months and you're finally talking? Something doesn't add up, if you ask me," 

Pete goes to open his mouth again, but Tom squeezes his knee again. His grip looks a little too hard. Mav doesn't seem to acknowledge the uniform wrinkling grip his husband has on his knee, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

"I was thinking the same thing," Bradley pipes up, his chin resting against his closed fist, elbow propped up on the table in front of him. "Even though I've heard this story about a thousand times, I know Jake wanted to hear it-" 

"Where is Bagman? I thought he came in with you, Bradshaw," The woman counters back. 

"I'm right here, Phoenix," Jake pipes up, his tone more smug than I've ever heard it, as he's walking right past the empty seats to stand next to my father. "I was working on something for the Air Boss, is that alright with you lot?" 

There are murmurs, nothing intelligible. The usual glower on my father's features when he's in front of his subordinates is no where to be seen. Instead, his features are schooled into neutral disinterest. Jake leans towards him to whisper into his ear- my father's expression remains still. Then Jake is moving towards Pete. He leans in between Mav and his husband, letting them both listen to what he has to say. With a clap of his hands, Pete is interrupting whatever Jake is telling him. I am a bit taken aback by Pete's sudden command but it seems no one else is surprised. Tom shakes his head a bit but does nothing to hold back his husband. 

"Alright team, change of plans!" The words are met with a groan. "Our lovely COMPACFLT is going to take you guys for a little trip across the air field, I'll be there to join you shortly. Lt. Floyd, could you hang back for a moment, Admiral Simpson and I would like to have a word with you. Same goes for you as well, Lt. Seresin," 

"That's a lot of formality there, old man," Jake jests over the sound of scooching chairs and boots against the cement. I watch as the small group files out of a door at the back of the hanger, diligently following after Tom. 

It's only then that it really hits me. 

The only people left standing in this hanger with me are my father, Pete, Jake and Robert Floyd. My Robert Floyd, the man I have spent so long imagining. When I was a child, I used to talk to the moon about him. The habit started after my teacher told us the story about the man in the moon. He served as my confidant, my secret keeper, and my light for the future. It wasn't uncommon to commune with the milky light of the moon as it shown through the sheer curtains of my childhood bedroom.  

I suppose it's fitting that my soulmate, too, has a love for the sky. I wonder if he's friends with the moon in that same way. Childlike innocence held over with white knuckles while tucked under blankets, anything to fend off the monsters turned Sunday scaries. 

I let my eyes trail over his frame, though I can't make out much. Only the back of his head, with his clean, Navy regulation hair cut. He is that dishwater blond that Rhett is, hair shining with a slick coat of gel to keep his bangs out of his eyes. Bob wears his flight suit, which gives me absolutely no clue into his world of personal style. But, I like the way it stretches over the expanse of his shoulders and down the broadness of his back. The slick-ish green material pulling taught over the the caps of his shoulders as he slumps forward a bit. 

Sitting alone like he is almost makes him look like a little kid who got into trouble at recess. He keeps his hands tucked in front of him, the picture of polite as he waits for his next instruction. Maybe it's instinct, maybe it's Navy issued, either way he's all patience and clean corners tucked into a military grade flight suit. 

The sight of my father leaning down in front of Bob pulls me back to reality. He wears a kind smile, that same one he used to wear at father-daughter dances and parent-teacher conferences. That smile belongs wholly to my father- Cyclone: the Admiral is no where to be seen. It's strange, for a moment he almost looks out of place in his uniform, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact. 

Pete is pulling Jake towards me, a hand on his collar. 

"I'm telling you right now, Jake," Maverick punctuates his seriousness with the use of Jake's first name, "You are going to go easy on Bob, alright?" 

"I think he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for," Jake shoots back, nudging Pete in the ribs with his elbow. "I know we all joke around and treat Bob like he's the kid of the group, but he's worked just as hard as the rest of the team to be here. He deserves it. There's no doubt in my mind that he won't take this in stride," 

"This isn't like you, Hangman," Pete chuckles, punching him playfully in the chest, "If I didn't know any better I'd think there's a heart in there somewhere," 

"You're forgetting I'm practically engaged to your son, you know," Jake is all jest and shinning eyes as he looks down at the shorter man. 

"The word practically gives me pause," 

The moment between the men is as sweet as it is endearing, but my heartbeat threatens to take over my senses again. Anxiety swirls like thick smoke, overtaking my lungs and burning my eyes. I can feel myself tearing up. 

"I can appreciate the father-in-law son-in-law bonding that's happening right now, but in case you two have forgotten I am this fucking close to losing it," I hold my fingers up for emphasis, my pointer dangerously close to my thumb, "Watching y'all, I feel like the lunatics are running the asylum," 

"Dangerously accurate," Pete laughs, earning a scowl from me. I turn to Jake for some sort of help. Standing here, the seconds ticking down, I feel myself wavering. 

"So, this is it?" 

"This is it," Pete echoes, unhelpfully, "You've got this, Little Bird," 

Pete uses that as his exit, patting Jake on the arm as he leaves. I don't turn to watch him walk away. My eyes are somewhere on the center of Jake's chest, but the images are all muddled and glassy. He takes my hand in his own, thumbing over the ridges of my fingers. 

"Walking into love, eyes wide open, I promise," Jake's susurrus voice barely audible over the blood rushing through my ears. Gently, he guides me down the aisle between the tables. It seems a million miles from here to there, a sentiment I've only ever heard brides use. Then, he's stopping me a row back from where Bob is seated, still talking to my father. Jake himself does not stop, instead going to stand next to my father. 

"You got it from here, Lieutenant?" My father asks, turning his quirked eyebrow Jake's direction. 

"I do," Jake confirms confidently, his hands coming down to rest palm down on the tabletop in front of Bob. 

"Alright then," My father straightens up, "I'll see you in a few minutes, Lt. Seresin. Have a good night, Lt. Floyd," 

From my new vantage point, I can see a sliver of Bob's side profile. A clean shaven jaw gives way to a long, pale neck. He wears glasses, that little fact feels more concrete than anything else up unto this moment. Robert Floyd wears glasses- those Navy issued, Birth Control Goggles that I've always had an affinity for.  

Once when I was a kid, I had asked my father why the Navy glasses were hated. I liked them, truly. They reminded me of the vintage models in my mother's old magazines- and that look was the height of fashion circa 1976. My mother had a love for all things vintage fashion, and I developed a love for a well dressed man whilst looking over her shoulder. My father's response to the question was nothing that made sense until I understood exactly how cruel people could be. 

"What's going on, Hangman?" There's a round quality to Bob's accent, though it is decidedly more formal than Rhett's. 

"I'm getting to that, Baby on Board," Jake chuckles, leaning closer to Bob effectively keeping the other man's eyes on him, "Close your eyes," 

"Close my eyes? Yeah, right," Bob scoffs, "I think I learned better when it comes to you, all the way back when we were kids. Nice try. Now, tell me, what's goin' on?" 

I watch Jake's smile bloom larger on his face, but he doesn't spare a glance my direction. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, nervous energy threatening to boil over. Even though energy buzzes under my skin, I want nothing more than to hear Bob speak again. 

"Seriously Robby," The nickname makes me almost laugh. It's said with just a dash of sweetness, something closer to fond. Bob lets out a slightly exasperated sigh. "Close'em up,"

"I swear to god, Seresin, if this is some sort of overdue hazing or some other bullshit I am going to kick your ass," Bob grumbles, but must closes his eyes by the pleased look reflecting on Jake's features. 

"It's not, honest," Jake swears, a hand placed over his heart. I watch the pair as I rock back and fourth. It's a gentle movement, anything to keep myself from crawling out of my skin. "And you and I both know that you couldn't kick my ass if you tried," Bob looks like he's going to retort, but instead he sinks down a little further in his seat with a roll of his eyes. 

"Well, get on with it," Bob mumbles, his shoulders dipping a bit. 

"Will you take this seriously, please, Robby," There's that nickname again. Jake's words are met with a low grumble about how he really is taking something absolutely ridiculous as seriously as he can. "Let me ask you somethin'"

"Alright," Bob shrugs his shoulders, his uniform wrinkling under his movement. Bob is so apprehensive, rightfully so. Jake is still looking down at him, hands pressed to the table. The look Jake has painted across his face is nothing short of mischievous, a look that I would not want to be on the receiving end of, for fear of trouble. 

"Now, no matter what I ask, you've gotta keep your eyes closed, alright?" 

"Okay, alright, Jake. I get it, eyes are to remain closed," 

Then Jake is waving me over with a flick of his wrist. There is still a wide smile across his cheeks which makes it a fraction harder to say no. Still, I shake my head, eyes wide, trying to deny his request. He huffs out a sigh when I manage to scoot myself less than two steps closer. A second later he is crossing over to me, taking my hand in his again. He guides me back to where he was standing before, in front of Bob. 

I can see his whole face now.

From the tender slope of his nose to his dusty brown lashes, the first thing that strikes me is just how kind he looks. I take in the gentle wave of his hair and the way it's pushed back from his eyes. I wonder what is would look like without all the product. Would it slope down onto his forehead, the obvious wave more prominent? From here, though his features are so similar to Rhett's, he looks so incredibly different. There is a softness to Bob that I wouldn't have expected. The points where Rhett is hard lines and calloused skin, Bob is undisturbed water, crystal clear and inviting. 

Robert Floyd looks nothing like the idea of men I have come to picture in my head: the ideal man outlined for me since childhood. Those men were all beefy hands and square jaws, sharp lines that lead to a commanding presence. Instead, Bob is lean muscle and something so unbelievably oneiric. He is soft in the way the best things are, seafoam and clouds, the feeling of coming home. It's strange, really, the settled feeling that makes a home near my diaphragm. It's all delicate revelation.

The anxiety still lingers in my extremities, dancing through my thighs and down to my toes just to accompany the pulsing feeling in my fingertips. 

And suddenly, I want to know everything. The dam breaks, cracks running through the concrete that held back my terse reaction and adjunct feeling of crumbling resolve.  

The tears come fast and unexpected, the only thing keeping in a surprised gasp is my hands cupped over my mouth. Get it together, get it together, get it together! Those are the only words going through my head, accompanied by the sound of blood rushing though my ears.  Jake grazes his knuckles over the exposed skin of my arm, his expression still as kind as ever. He doesn't take his eyes off me when he addresses Bob again. 

"I had a point brought up to me today, about the whole soulmate thing," It's a start. Jake looks like he's hunting for the words, "And I'm embarrassed about it. I mean, it makes so much sense and I can't have you looking at me when I admit this," 

Jake is really hamming it up, leaning into this whole bit. I'm not sure if it's to ease my anxiety or if it's to mess with Bob, but either way I don't care. I am stuck standing here, in front of my person and will listen to every word that leaves Jake's lips if it means I get to look at Bob unbothered for a few more moments. 

God, he's pretty. His lips look soft, even though they are lightly sun kissed. Or maybe that's just their natural color. His cheeks match, though. A stained sort of blush that looks like crushed berries. I want to trace the ridge of his cupids bow with the tip of my nose, a precursor to a kiss that is a long time coming. I want to wear that raspberry stain on my skin, too. 

"Okay..." Bob's tone is nothing short of patient. "My eyes are still closed, I promise. Go on when you're ready," 

"The thought is this: people begin a life with their soulmate with their eyes closed, blinders on. They jump into something purely because something in the universe deemed it that way. I wonder what would happen if we walked into the whole thing with our eyes open instead of falling blindly, or out of obligation," Jake is summing up the sentiment well. He hits each detail in a way that threatens to make my head spin to hear them out in the open like that. It's one thing to admit those things out loud, but hearing them fall from someone else's lips is dizzying. 

"That's the thing, Jake, I don't think it's all out of obligation," I suck in a deep breath at those words, holding it hard within my lungs. Jake looks at me with a knowing sort of look that doesn't make holding in this breath any less of a necessity. It's a few more seconds before I finally let go, the breath escaping my lungs slowly. 

"What do you mean?" Jake probes further, doing his best to hide the joy in his tone. If Bob notices, he doesn't say anything. 

"Just because we've got these words doesn't mean it dictates our future. Anyone who tells you different is drinking the Kool-Aid. I mean, I hope more than anything that my person wants me just as much as I want them, but the words don't make it so. It also doesn't mean shit the other way. Things can work out even if your words don't match up, because that's not what love is, Jake," Bob's tone has turned soft now, a care laced into his words. He takes his glasses from his face, setting them down onto the tabletop so he can rub at his still closed eyes. His expression is still soft, though he moves to rub his temples. 

"Love is a choice. Plain and simple. I mean, look at my parents. You know they don't have each other's words, but they are the most in-love people I've ever seen. The universe didn't do that, they did. It was a choice they made every single day, to wake up and love each other and build that life together. And so, if you're worried about everything with Rooster, you don't have to be. Not as long as you wake up every day, love each other and build a life together, whatever that looks like for you," 

"So," Jake's words are interrupted by the smile growing on his face. His cheeks are red from the force it takes to smile so big, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Great love is walking in to it with eyes wide open?" 

"That's exactly what it means," Bob confirms, bringing his hands back to his lap. At his confirmation, the world seems to slow. Each second lasts longer than the previous, the beating of my heart the only thing out of sync now. Tick, tick, ti-thump thump tick. Jake squeezes my shoulder, keeping his eyes firmly on me once again. 

"There's something else I have to tell you, Robby," The joy in Jake's voice is palpable, warm like sunshine on skin. The ever-present burning feeling mellows to this. That static burn of the sun shinning from high in the sky, enough to turn skin hot with blush. "Birdie's here," 

The room goes almost silent, save for the sounds of Bob's deep, uncertain breathes. A moment passes. Then another. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. For the first moment I consider my attire, a white t-shirt and jeans. Could've been worse. At least it's something else to think about other than counting moments, minutes, heartbeats or breathes. 

"Excuse me?" The words are taught, leaving an equally tight throat. Bob sounds almost pained, somewhere in the rigidness of his tone. Bob cracks his eyes open, reaching for his glasses. He slots them back into place on his nose, adjusting them with his long fingers. 

That's something else concrete; the cleanliness of Bob's nails. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the thought, after all, I'm taking comfort in something so silly. Anything to distract from the pulsing of anxiety. 

Bob looks up, his pupils dilating as he refocuses to the light of the hanger. His eyes focus on Jake first, his expression something I can't quite read. Then his eyes flick to me. The best thing I can offer him is a sheepish smile but it makes Bob cock is head to the side like a confused animal. Like things will make more sense at forty-five degrees. 

"Robert Floyd, Birdie Simpson," Jake introduces us as easy as if he were introducing two friends. "Birdie, this is Just Bob," That part is accompanied by wink and a hint of a chuckle. 

"I shoulda hit you," I grumble, dashing a glace over to Jake. His laughter fills the room, bastard. Bob doesn't move, his head still cocked to the side as if he's trying to make sense of it all, dot the I's, cross the T's, but his mental pen's out of ink. I watch his gaze bounce between Jake and I a couple times as he flounders. His eyes are a notch wider than what I would consider normal, the delicate blue of them shining like ocean baubles under the florescence of the hanger. 

"Well, say somethin' to 'er Robby!" Jake's drawl sneaks out with his desperation. He holds his hands out, almost like he's trying to display me to Bob, the only thing that's missing is the jazz hands. I am clutching the material of my jeans in tight, sweaty fists. This whole thing is going somehow worse than I had anticipated, even through Jake's good natured exchange and I can't help feeling exposed. 

Jake mumbles out a "See, no tellin' if he's wise," just barely loud enough for me to hear. It's supposed to be a comfort, I suppose, but the limbo look I find myself locked in keeps my nerves from settling. 

A sound akin to scrambled vowels escapes Bob's lips. His eyes widen impossibly further, his cheeks going crimson . That same color accompanies the skin around his collar. It would be an endearing sight if he didn't look so totally mortified. His expression isn't at all comfortable, mirroring the exact feeling zinging underneath my skin. This wasn't how this was supposed to go... God, this is so much worse. 

The universe could have delt us better cards. All happy smiles and those movie reel, airport hugs that knock the wind out of you. Those Hollywood kisses with hands cupping faces accompanied by breathless words. I've been waiting for you. You look beautiful. I can't believe you're finally here in my arms. But that's not this. After all, the only hand the universe has wields a pen. The moment the words are wrote, we are on our own, ink stained and pleading. 

"I don't think you were ready for this- either of us," I correct myself, "So, I uh... I think I'm just going to go," I start backing up slowly, heading for the back door of the hanger. I can't place the look Bob gives me, but it makes my stomach twist. "I'm sorry, again. To all three of you," 

"Birdie, please don't-" The door slams behind me, cutting Jake's words off. The chill of the outside air rapidly cools my heated skin. It's still California, but with the sun barely visible over the horizon, the air is cool. 

Tears are rapidly forming in my eyes, though I don't exactly feel like crying. Instead, its the feeling of insurmountable stress weighing on my nervous system. Out of everything I am feeling, I can only name the things I don't want to experience because of the emotions wrecking through my body. 

Though I don't want to cry, my body doesn't seem to be getting the message as fat tears dribble onto my cheeks. I don't feel like running, which in itself makes me chuckle. Usually, when things get hard I want to disappear, take time to figure out exactly what's going on. It's why I've been away from my father for so long to begin with, and why I ran from Rhett and Jake at the airport. What has always taken me distance to see is coming through remarkable clear this close up. 

Maybe I should be broken hearted, or maybe I already am and whatever this fucking feeling buzzing in my chest is only serves as temporary cover. I can't hold back the laughter that vibrates through me. After all of the stock I put into meeting my soulmate, my person, and it having gone down just like a sinking ship only serves to make one thing so perfectly crystal clear. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. It has me turning on my heel and headed right back through that door. 

Jake and Rhett haven't moved too far in the minute or so I've been gone. Jake is still standing in front of the table, looking down at Bob who now has his head buried in his hands. His glasses are pushed up his face, balancing oddly over his forehead. 

"Birdie?" Jake questions, voice louder than necessary. Bob lifts his face from his hands, his glasses falling back crookedly over his nose. I ignore Jake's question along with his gaze, my sights firmly squared on Bob.

"Could that have gone worse?" 

Bob still wears that deer in the headlights look, eyes like flashbulbs, but he finds his voice. "Statistically? Yes," 

Jake mumbles an oh, for Christ's sake to himself but doesn't say anything forthcoming. My hands cup my own face, palms cool against my still hot skin as I cross the concrete to stand in front of the table. Bob watches my each and every move until he is looking up at me from his seat wearing a mimic furrowed brow. My hands make homes of my jean pockets once more. 

"For us I mean," I offer more criteria, "I mean, we really didn't say much to each other, so it's not like we could have said something to offend one another. There hasn't been time to make an impression besides the minute or so of blatant staring. No body threw up, or fainted, or cried. I didn't dump a cup of hot coffee on your lap or anything. Hell, I even had a friend meet her soulmate after they got into a car accident. So really, Bobby, could this have gone worse? 

There's a sort of dry chuckle to my words, a humor that's been left out in the wind too long. We've officially made it past the beginning now, that much I know to be true, and there is already so much comfort in that fact.  

Bob looks to be pondering over my words for a moment before a small, cheeky smirk makes a home on his lips. I can't help but mirror that smile. 

"Well, when you put it that way," Bob places his hands on the tabletop, pushing himself to his feet, "I think that was probably the worst we could have managed. Considering the circumstances, what do you think?" 

"I think we faired alright," I offer, "Could have been better, but life's good at hitting you right in the kneecaps," 

Bob smiles widely at me, and this time it's me who's looking up. Bob is tall, just like Rhett, but looking up at the man in front of me is so much sweeter. He thrusts his hand out, offering it to me, "Robert Floyd," 

I wrap my hand around his, squeezing, "Birdie Simpson," 

"You two do know that I did this already, right?" Jake interjects. Neither Bob nor I turn to look at the blond, his presence all but forgotten. 

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Birdie," Bob's voice is smooth, anxiety hidden in the upturn of his smile. God, he's got a nice smile. 

"Likewise, Lieutenant," I stick my tongue out at him playfully, nose scrunched. 

"No, absolutely not," Bob still holds my hand in his, "If this is going to be anything other than friendly acquaintances, you don't get to call me that here," 

"Here?"  The question belongs solely to Jake. 

"Then what can I call you?" It's all mischief. 

"Let's start with Bobby, I quite liked that," He admits, his cheeks flushing again, this time it's gentle. The blush that overtakes his skin isn't out of embarrassment, instead it's out of a new found fondness. I can feel it creeping up on my own skin. 

"Alright, Bobby," 

"It's Robby..." Jake interjects once more, this time earning a glance from Bob.

"Maybe to you and the family, but to Birdie here, it's Bobby," Bob explains, as if he hasn't just decided that fact for himself. "Don't you have to go meet up with the squad and Admiral Kazansky?" 

Its more of a get out of here than it is an actual question. Jake seems to miss the scram message hidden in the kindness of Bob's tone. 

"Uh... Not technically. Everyone is actually going to the Hard Deck. Pops called off the hop. Figured you wouldn't want to be flyin' after this and we couldn't let Phoenix without her back seater," 

At the explanation, I finally pull my eyes from Bob to look at Jake with an unimpressed expression. "What I think Bob's trying to say is get lost," 

"Well, yes. But nicer than that," Bob tries to offer at Jake's open mouthed surprise. 

"I know he talked me down today," I gesture to Jake, "But, I don't think he deserves nice. Have you ever sat next to that man on a plane? God, he bounced his leg the whole time! I thought he was going to buzz right out of his skin," 

"You should hear him over coms while he's actually the only piloting," Bob laughs under his breath, "He's sort of insufferable,"

 "That's not a surprise, but at least Rhett's not up there with you. I was stuck in between the of of 'em the whole damn trip," 

"Oh god, both of them?" Bob asks, his thumb stroking over my own. He still holds my hand, slightly awkwardly over the table but I don't care. In fact, he is so warm and I want him to hold me closer. 

"Both of them," I confirm with a wry smile. 

"In that case, scram Bagman," Bob laughs, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. 

He holds his hands up in defense, "You don't have to tell me twice. I know when I'm not wanted," We watch Jake walk away for a moment before turning back to look at each other once again. 

"I can't believe you grew up with him," I laugh. Bob laughs too, almost like he's in agreement. After the laughter dies down, we stand there in silence for a few moments. In times like this I would usually be counting down the tick of the clock but for once I am totally wrapped up in the present. That's when Bob clears his throat. 

"I owe you an apology," Bob leaves no room for me to brush off his words, "I'm sorry I handled that as poorly as I did. I was caught off guard and then made a fool of myself. I'm not trying to make excuses, I really am sorry, Birdie," At the end of his apology, Bob's eyes slip from my face, a blush taking over his own. 

"Oh Bobby," I squeeze his hand, pulling his gaze back to my own. "You don't need to apologize. That's not how I was expecting things to happen. Jake make the choice and I just let it happen. I think I should be apologizing to you. So, I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted," Bob smiles.

"Apology accepted," I return. In that moment we settle into the quiet again, but it doesn't last very long. 

"So," Bob starts again, a bit unsure of his words. 

"So?" 

"Do you think we've got a chance at this? The crash and burn beginning behind us?" Bob looks so damn hopeful. I can't help but swoon the second that look it turned down to meet my eyes.

"Let's look at the facts. You're a WSO, so you're already trusting, brilliant, a hard worker. I grew up a Navy brat, so I know what this life looks like. I'm not a stranger to the deployments or the work that has to happen for something like this to work out. I've got no where I have to be, nothing committed to. Hell, I was coming home, technically, the home being where your family is or whatever. And you already know my father, so there's no awkward introduction there. I already know Rhett, and Jake, not to mention I'm just a few members short of having met your whole team. I live out of a fucking duffle bag of fucks sake," The words spill from my mouth with no abandon. Bob just listens, a dopey smile drawn over his lips. "All things considered, I think we've got a good chance. I hear it's all about making the choice to make it all work,"

Its not totally clear if Bob picks up the little joke because the smile on his face hasn't faltered. Neither has his hand, still holding my own, even through my little speech. Carefully, Bob uses his free hand to adjust his frames over his nose so they sit a little bit straighter. 

"What do you say we get out of here? Dinner maybe?" He offers, eyebrows raised. He looks a little nervous. I offer him my nicest smile. "And then we can talk more about all this," 

"That depends, Lieutenant, are you going to wear the flight suit?" I flirt shamelessly. It's met with that confused look that I've already come to recognize, though his head only tilts about fifteen degrees this time. 

"Uh, no? I was going to change before we left," Oh sweet, sweet Bobby. 

"I know," I giggle, "I was flirting with you,"

"Oh," The blush crawls across his skin again. I want to kiss every bit it colors. 

"I can't believe you outed the fact that you have a rank kink in front of your friend and wingman, but you can't pick up when I'm flirting with you," I pull my hand from his, only to hit him playfully in the chest. 

Bob's eyes go wide again, "Oh my god, did I?" 

"You did," I confirm through laughter, watching Bob go from pink to red. "Now go get changed, I've gotta hear more about that," 

"Okay, okay," Bob holds his hands up in defense, walking himself out into the aisle between the tables. "One thing, first," 

"What's that?" Bob just holds his hand out to me, beckoning me into the aisle with him. I take it, rounding around the table to stand in front of him. He is taller now, this close. He looks down at me over the bottom wire of his glasses, a cheeky smile on his features. 

"I'd like to kiss you first, if that's alright," He leans closer and closer with each whispered word. The last thing I see before my eyes slip closed is the still pink tint to Bob's cheeks, the same tint that matches the gentle blush of his sun kissed lips. 

"You better," I mumble, our lips meeting a moment after. Bob's hands snake around my body, fingers threading through the beltloops at the the back of my hips. I wrap my fingers around his collar, clutching onto the fabric, holding him close. The kiss is all gentle, though there is so much warmth taking over my skin from his touch. It burns like new flame, the kind that gives light to the future. To our future, together, tangled in each other's embrace. 

That first kiss is a brand new beginning taking flight. The first beginning I don't want to end. 

TAGLIST

@kmc1989 @inky-sun @harperdoodle @possiblyexisting @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @jessicab1991 @muddwheelz123

[definitelynotshouting]

So I just started playing In Stars and Time because I got curious about the sad little blorbo you occasionally post about and afshdjdkrn

I just. Wanna hug them. So badly 😭

Siffrin isat my everything my cinnamon fucking apple WKDNWKDNEKEKSK HE IS SOOOOO SQUISHABLE...... THEY NEED A HUG SO BAD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Incredibly pleased im helping spread the isat propaganda like the dev rlly just Made a whump fic in video game format huh....... for tumblr girlies by a tumblr girlie.... my gods we respect the grind as if i could EVER be normal abt that

I'll be so real ive already written little tidbits for a longer au oneshot i want to write in between chapters of hunger au, and the exercise in 2nd person pov is SO MUCH FUN im enjoying myself immensely :] here, a snippet for both fun and profit (and more fun):

"Siffrin...." Odile says, and it strikes a sour chord, a ripple of dissonance that screws rivets around your chest and tightens. She shouldn't have to say your name like that, with that kind of weight— as if all the Craft in the world isn't enough to carry it. Pure reflex ducks your chin into the collar of your cloak; you avert your gaze back to the rubble-littered floor of the tunnel, tracing dark crags in the stone where sputtering torchlight fails to reach. There you go again, stardust. Loop's voice is an ephemeral echo in your ears, a byproduct of months, years worth of past loops gone by. It isn't real. Gone and made yourself another person's problem. It isn't real. "— need you to start taking this more seriously." Odile bites out each word with the same deportment of a dog tearing off chunks of meat, clipped and cutting. Her brows knit together, mouth pulling down in a sharp curve; the lines around her eyes are tight, carved from the knife's edge of her own disappointment. Her disappointment in you. You almost miss the next sentence as well. "I have no way of helping you if you don't speak to me," she says. "And when you minimize these things you went through— you realize that's going back on your word, yes? Gems alive, Siffrin. We want to help." You speak before your mind has caught up with your mouth, hundreds of loops sanding down the words into something practiced, rote. "But there's nothing to help me w—" "Stop lying to me." Odile snaps, and your jaw shuts so fast you miss biting your tongue by a mere hair's-breadth. Your lungs threaten to buckle— inhale. Exhale. Come on, stardust, Loop's imaginary voice sneers, can't you do something as simple as breathe? Or are you just that blinding useless? ... Shut up. Odile's eyes slip shut. She raises a hand to meet them, kneading at the soft skin between her brows. "I'm... sorry, Siffrin," she says, halting, stilted. "I shouldn't— that wasn't productive. I apologize." Tentatively, you say: "You don't have to." "Yes, I do." Odile straightens once again, tucking a strand of sweat-slicked hair back behind her ear with a grimace. "It's not... conversations like these are... hard. Yelling is pointless for both of us. I'm sorry." "But you didn't—" "Siffrin," she says, and this time the syllables of your name twist, a rise and fall that cracks wryly in the middle. One sharp eyebrow arches up into the canopy of her hairline. "You're supposed to say you accept the apology." You stare. She stares right back. Oh. She's serious. "I..." you look down. "Um. Accept?" "Excellent," Odile says brusquely, and bends to peer at an invisible speck of dirt clinging to her forearm. She brushes at it with absent, studious flicks, the epitome of single-minded focus. "Then now we can move on with our lives."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling the truth about punching my stepson?

I am a 29 year old gay trans man. I recently married my husband (51M) and have been trying to bond with my stepson (21M). My husband raised my stepson alone from when he was 10 when my husband's ex-wife stepped out of the picture, and they are very close. He didn't start dating again until about 5 years ago and didn't realize he was attracted to men until a few years ago. He and his son lived in a conservative area until his son went off to college, and his son was kind of confused and upset about his father dating men, and when he found out I was trans he said some hurtful things which gave our relationship a rocky start. He's been much better but our relationship has always been a little awkward and stilted.

He's a big straight cis guy- like he was a linebacker in high school, and was planning on joining a frat until my husband, who is a worrier, talked him out of it and I'm a fat gay trans nerd. We have pretty much nothing in common and he didn't like that his dad was dating a man let alone a trans man who's only 8 years older than him. Between COVID and his college we also haven't spent much time together.

In February my husband and I got married and moved closer to the city where my stepson is in school. He was living on campus when we got married and is living with some friends during the summer, but he does laundry at our house and comes over for dinner at least once a week. We've been trying to get to know each other but it's awkward. My husband really really wants us to be closer and has tried to come up with activities we all enjoy to do together so it'll be less awkward.

He likes sports and martial arts and I did aikido as a kid for weeb reasons so I offered to take us to a beginner martial arts class and to take him and his friends out to dinner sometimes because they're college students and I work in computer programming, and though I have going out with friends money now, I remember the appeal of free food in college.

He took me up on the class and I thought things were going well but then one week he took me up on the food thing and his friends were uncomfortable because I'm 29 years old and he introduced me as his stepdad and they were what I would describe as playfully trans and homophobic. I brushed it off because it's a weird situation and i figured they were trying to diffuse the tension.

The next week when we got to class one of his friends was there. He and his friend spent the class hanging out with each other and ignoring me which hurt but I tried to brush it off.

When we got to sparring towards the end of class I was paired with my stepson and so we were sparring normally.

Full disclosure I've taken a few self defense classes and have been assaulted. This is not an excuse but it is the reason for the next bit.

My stepson's friend was goading us while we were sparring and stepped a little too close which knocked us both off our game and when my stepson went in for a normal grab, I freaked out a little and fully decked him in a totally illegal move. The second it happened I stepped away and started apologizing like crazy.

My stepson's nose was bleeding and the instructor was immediately right there to help him. My stepson said it was fine and laughed it off and said he was just bummed he would have to sit out the rest of class but he'd come up with a good story to tell girls and it would get him dates.

The friend also apologized for getting too close.

The instructor said he had been about to call for us to stop because we were too close to other people and he could see that I had panicked and that it would be okay because everyone signed waivers, but I should probably hold off sparring for now and we'd talk about what set me off so it wouldn't happen again. He was really nice about it, apparently he teaches self defense to survivors and recognized my reaction.

My stepson and I sat out the rest of class and I apologized a few more times and he kept brushing it off before he finally snapped and said it was fine because I punch like a girl anyway. He then got a ride with his friend.

When I got home I immediately went to my husband to tell him what happened and apologize and ask what he thought I should do to fix the situation. When I got to my husband he said that my son had already called him and told him everything and that neither he nor my stepson were upset with me. That these things happen and I shouldn't blame myself. I asked how I should make it up to my stepson and my husband said i didn't need to do anything and something like accidents happen or something. I just kind of let it go and decided to see how things went the next time I saw my stepson.

The next time my stepson came over, it became apparent that my stepson had lied to my husband about what happened. My husband believed that "some anxious chick" from the class had been the one to freak out and punch my stepson.

I wanted to be honest with my husband but I didn't want to upset my stepson and between the "punch like a girl" and the "some anxious chick" I felt like there's something more going on with why he lied to my husband. I wanted to talk to my stepson about it but he's been ignoring me since telling me that I punch like a girl.

My stepson ignored me and I avoided talking about the whole situation to my husband for about 10 days. It was causing me constant guilt and anxiety but I really wanted to talk to my stepson first.

Last night my husband mentioned that my stepson's bruise is finally completely gone and I broke down and told him everything. He was upset with both his son and me. He said that he could understand me accidentally hitting his son but keeping it from him made him feel like it was malicious. He said he needed time to process, so we didn't really talk about it, or at all after that. Between me punching his kid and lying and his son also lying and blaming a woman for it, my husband is mad at both of us, as apparently his son calling me a 'woman' to upset my husband has been a thing.

Evidently he called my stepson about it because when my stepson came by the house to get his laundry today, he was furious with me for "narcing on us" and allowing his dad to "blow things out of proportion."

I know lying in the first place was bad, but aita for telling my husband the truth after my stepson and I had seemingly agreed to keep it secret, especially without talking to my stepson first?

What are these acronyms?

[kitkatt0430]

for the AU 5+ headcanons ask game, Cisco takes a leap of faith and tells Barry he's in love with him somewhere in the middle or second half of season 1. i hope it's a prompt that works for you?

I do love a good Barrisco headcanon. This'll be cute. ^_^

So Cisco tags along to karaoke night with Barry and Caitlin and instead of Linda showing up to hit on Barry, Cisco takes the opportunity while Caitlin is singing to tell Barry how he feels. And Barry is surprised - not necessary blind sided, but he's definitely having a 're-evaluating events' moment. Caitlin calls them up to sing with her before Barry can really respond. So Cisco just kinda assumes that they're gonna leave things as friends and be a little awkward about it at first.

However, Barry is aware that being left hanging sucks and so as soon as they've squared away drunken Caitlin on Cisco's couch for the night, he asks Cisco on a date. And apologizes for not responding earlier. He was surprised and taking care of their drunk friend was kinda the priority, but he likes Cisco a lot and the idea of going on a date with Cisco is giving him all the butterflies, so... Cisco cuts him off with a chaste kiss before Barry can get too into rambling mode and agrees to the date.

Their first date they start off both trying a bit too hard because they're nervous but once they realize that's why things are a bit stilted, they both laugh and unwind and it's a wonderful date.

Barry realizes that something is up with Cisco with regards to Hartley and it's more than just Hartley being a jerk to Cisco in the past. So Cisco loops Barry into the whole thing about Ronnie maybe being alive and how guilty Cisco feels about being the one who closed Ronnie into the pipeline in the first place. So Barry gets to be a supportive BF both in helping Cisco deal with his survivor's guilt and with getting info out of Hartley regarding what really happened to Ronnie the night the accelerator exploded. Hartley still winds up escaping somehow but Cisco doesn't have to bear that weight alone this time.

I think Barry would turn down the bowling double date here, citing that it's still early in his relationship with Cisco and he wants their date that evening to be just the two of them. Since Cisco is well aware of Barry's feelings for Iris, Barry wants to make sure Cisco feels secure in their relationship before doing any double dates with Iris.

During the day that wasn't, Barry and Iris do not kiss (hate that kiss anyway, any reason to throw it out) but Barry does call Cisco for help with the oncoming storm problem that's poised to decimate both Central City and Keystone. Only EoWells answers Cisco's phone because, um... Cisco cannot come to the phone right now. Barry doesn't think hard on it at the time because DANGER ahead is more pressing. But after resetting time it definitely sticks out to him as strange.

Lisa does not manage to honey trap Cisco because Cisco is flattered, but not interested and this is his boyfriend right here, isn't he so cute? Which means that the Snarts + Rory go with plan b which is kidnapping both Cisco and Barry. Cisco stalls for time until they're down to just Mick watching them and when Mick isn't paying attention Barry knocks him out and rescues Cisco and Dante. Dante comes out of the ordeal shaken but otherwise unscathed and impressed with his brother's courage. It's the first step towards mending their relationship and moving them more towards being the close & supportive brothers Cisco and Dante are in the comics.

Somehow Len does figure out Barry's identity from this (hidden camera?) and thus Barry does still have to make his deal with Len. But Len's outta luck if he wants Cisco to build him new guns. Good thing Len made blueprints off the original guns in case he had to make new ones the hard way. (Barry - that is not in any way a good thing >_<)

The experience is still traumatic enough for Cisco that it triggers his nightmares/early manifestation of his vibes of the timeline where he died. Good thing Barry is there in bed with Cisco to hold him after startling awake from that. Barry soothes Cisco back to being calm and listens to Cisco talk about the nightmare afterwards and while he doesn't know what to make of Cisco's subconscious associating Dr. Wells with the Reverse Flash, he does know that the idea of losing Cisco terrifies him. And, huh, for some reason he's reminded of how weird it was for Dr. Wells to answer Cisco's phone in the day that wasn't...

Being with Cisco mellows out Barry's 'don't tell Iris' reflex so when Eddie finds out about Barry being the Flash and wants to tell Iris the truth, Barry agrees over Joe's protests, noting that keeping her in the dark hasn't actually protected Iris the way Joe insisted it would. So the whole situation actually makes Iris & Eddie closer instead of causing the relationship drama from canon.

Finding out that Cisco's nightmare actually happened for real? Infuriates Barry. Cisco has to talk Barry down from going after Wells immediately, but Barry is just done with Wells taking away the people he loves. Killing his mom, framing his father, and now killing Cisco in another timeline? Which might also be when Barry realizes that he's fallen in love with Cisco and doesn't want to be without him.

The Iris West-Allen newspaper byline is explained by Gideon to be from the OG timeline, but it still shakes Cisco, who doesn't quite realize Barry is relieved that's not from this timeline. Eddie questions his decision to propose to Iris afterwards, but Barry pushes him to go forward regardless of what Joe might think. That timeline is gone and they should focus on living their lives for themselves, not live up to the destinies of people who lived entirely different lives from them.

Eobard still tries to break up Iris and Eddie while he has Eddie kidnapped, but Gideon nonchalantly updates the by line to West-Thawne and Eobard takes the psychic damage instead.

Eobard tries dangling the whole 'save your mother, reset to the real timeline' carrot in front of Barry but Barry talks things over with his dad and admits he doesn't want to give up the life he's building with Cisco for the life he could have had with Iris, but he wants to save his mom so much... Henry is able to talk Barry out of the time travel this time.

Cisco is of course very surprised when Barry comes back from Iron Heights and puts an end to any time ship building. They're not helping Eobard Thawne in any way. They wind up talking through everything and Barry tells Cisco he loves him.

Cisco - *heart eyes* I love you too, Barry.

Eobard escapes and tries to force Barry to cooperate anyway, but Cisco uses his vibe blasts instinctively to protect Barry. Eobard swears he'll be back, but he's concerned about risking Cisco accidentally severing him from his speed entirely - made easier by Eobard's speed still being so unstable - so he hoofs it out of town, faking his death in the process. The Harrison Wells identity is well and truly burned, so he might as well give Barry something he wants. That way it'll hurt all the more the next time Eobard takes something - someone - away from him.

Thus Ronnie and Eddie survive the S1 finale, but there's a lead in for a Rogues centered S2 with Snart getting the gang together - not just the metas from the pipeline that he rescues from Team Flash, but Hartley as well - pushing the Earth-2/Zoom story line to Season 3.

[viktorybell]

Tight Spaces

Jayce x Viktor x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (EXACTLY 3.8k I will never achieve this again.)

Warning: slightly suggestive at the end, but that’s it

Ask:  is it ok if i request some poly jayce and viktor x reader? if you dont do poly just jayce is fine =] maybe the reader is an artist and they love drawing their crush(es) but because theyre a journalist they cant normally show off their art, but while at the lab one day, the other notices their sketchbook and asks to flip through it - and reader, forgetting that its a sketchbook and not a notebook for articles, says yes. after that, everythings up to you >=]

You’ve always been good with tight spaces. It’s part of what makes you one of Piltover’s most prolific reporters. You’re willing to go places that the majority of the prim n’ proper Piltover journalists wouldn’t dare. Which is partly because you grew up in a shabby neighborhood on the edges of the Undercity and partly because you were just a damn good reporter.

Growing up in the Undercity was integral for developing your reporter skills. You didn’t have many toys or trinkets to fill your time with, so you found alternative ways for filling your afternoons as a child. Alternative ways meaning snooping. Creeping around the Lanes and finding new hiding places. Unseen and unnoticed places where you could camp out for an afternoon. Your favorite spot had been a gap in the wall behind Vander’s old bar. You’d sit there for hours, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick while listening in on the dozens of conversations that felt infinitely more interesting than your life had at the time.

Your start in the Undercity also helped to endear you to a certain renowned inventor with similar origins. 

You were in his lab now, sketching out the shape of him and his lab partner where they’ve been hunched over a complicated set of blueprints for the last hour. This is usually how your sessions worked. With you wandering aimlessly around their lab while they bounced between assignments and answering your questions. The drawing was a more recent addition to the routine, though.

Viktor, who was from the Undercity despite the two of you having never met, was a dream to draw. For as much of a show he put on trying to scare you away during your first report, those sharp angles softened pretty quickly when he realized you didn’t startle easy. His long legs and messy hair just inspired the artist in you in a way that you hadn’t felt since you were young. It was like coming home after so long being stuck in the stuffy yet isolating atmosphere of Piltover.

Then there was Viktor’s partner, Jayce Talis. Jayce didn’t feel familiar like his counterpart, but was intriguing and alluring all the same. Where Viktor’s shape took form in sharp, wispy lines, Jayce’s were sturdy and bold. He was comforting and bright, like sunshine after a storm. And wasn’t that the most fitting way to describe it? Jayce had been full of apologies and little jokes during the first meeting between you three. Where Viktor was a little less than welcoming, Jayce doubled down on friendly smiles and encouraging pats on the back.

Not that either of them could scare you away now. You’ve moved far past the awkward first few interviews, your questions stilted and the atmosphere tense with the distrust coming off of Viktor in waves. It was hard to keep up with how many pieces you’ve done on these two so far, you stopped counting when you ran out of fingers to count them on.

Somewhere between your first article on an exclusive Hexbros interview and the piece you’re currently working on talking about the environmental benefits of Hextech technology, the three of you grew close. Viktor was comfortable, like sepia memories drenched in nostalgia. He was a man from the Undercity through and through, tough and resilient despite all the odds. Then there was Jayce, who was his opposite in every way besides how much he cares. He hadn’t needed more than a day to win your favor, it was like he always knew what to say to you. It did things to your brain. Hence why you’re sitting on the couch in their lab and scribbling down their likeness instead of pestering them for answers like you should.

“It’s been an hour and I’ve answered maybe a question and a half for this piece. Should I come back when you two come back down from outer space?” You call out just loud enough for them to hear as you put the finishing touches on your sketch.

“Sure, let me put a pin in our progress on life-saving, world-changing, investigative technology for your silly newspaper questions,” Viktor hums sarcastically, rummaging through his desk drawer for something. To his right, Jayce’s stomach growls loudly.

“Maybe a break wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Jayce grins sheepishly at you while you’re holding back a laugh. “Science can wait for lunch time, right?”

“How quickly you abandon our team when your stomach’s involved,” Viktor comments while moving over to rummage through Jayce’s desk now.

“Hey! I’m not abandoning anybody, ok?” Jayce scoffs, folding his arms defensively. “And besides, Y/N’s a part of the team too at this point.”

“For putting up with your never-ending appetite?” Viktor grins slyly at Jayce.

“I was thinking more for putting up with your attitude, but…” Jayce has to quickly dodge the balled up paper that Viktor beams at his head. It does nothing to dampen the goofy smile that’s burning your eyes from the sheer warmth and fond exasperation it exudes. “Hey! Stop screwing with my stuff!”

“I wouldn’t have to screw with your stuff if you just kept the lab tidy.”

“You’re messier than I am!”

“You cannot prove that.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Girls, girls! You’re both equally as disgusting as the other! Can we stop arguing now?” You groan, shutting your sketchbook and setting it on top of an identical notebook. Identical except for the paper inside that was lined instead of blank. You tried to keep your reporter’s notes and questions separate from the drawings you did as a hobby. Especially when your hobby mostly consisted of drawing the two other men in the room. “What’re you looking for, Viktor?

“My toolkit. The one I use for detailing,” Viktor huffs, knocking the desk drawer he’d been digging through shut. Both you and Jayce could tell in the tense line of his shoulders that he was actually getting frustrated now.

“Do you remember where you put it last?” Jayce asks, his voice softer as he steps closer to Viktor. You don’t think either of them even notice, but as Jayce moves in, Viktor unconsciously sways towards him. For as much as they bicker like an old married couple, they care deeply for each other.

Maybe it was your reporter’s habit of looking into things too much and drawing conclusions, but you’d thought the two were an item. FOR MONTHS. It’d been earth shatteringly awkward when you called Jayce ‘Viktor’s boyfriend’ in front of them and they had instantly stopped their playful arguing to stare at you, jaws dropped. You’d stopped talking outloud about the conclusions you drew from their behavior since then. For your sanity.

Which was probably for the best seeing as, despite their insistence that they were just friends, the two had obvious feelings for each other. It was clear in the way they spoke to each other, understood the other’s eccentricities and adored them for it. You got the feeling that the two didn’t get to fully be themselves often, making it that much more of a privilege that you can sit on their couch and be a part of it, no matter how minor. There was a sick jealous part of you that squeezed in on itself as you watched Jayce rest a hand on the side of Viktor’s arm. You weren’t sure who you’d rather be in that moment, as Jayce leaned in just that much closer, lowering his voice until it was soft enough only the two could hear it.

Notebook. Yes. Reporting. Mhm, yep. You were here to write a report about Hextech. You should probably stop gawking at the two and actually do what you’re paid to do.

Tearing your gaze away, trying to ignore the pit of longing in your gut and give the boys some privacy, you absently reach for your notebooks and pens and they topple to the floor. You roll your eyes as your favorite color pen rolls under the lab’s couch.

Figures.

Getting on your hands and knees, you stack your notebooks and set them back on the coffee table. Then the hard part. You try and slip your arm under the small gap between the couch and the floor. It’s dusty and you try not to think about what you’re touching until you grab something decidedly un-penlike. Wondering what sort of horrific artifact you’ll find under the couch that has clearly never been cleaned under, you’re surprised to pull out the missing toolbox.

“Good find, Y/N!” Jayce cheers, making you jump where you were still kneeling in front of the couch. Turning to look, you find both men staring at you. You hadn’t even realized they stopped talking to watch you fighting for your life trying to find your pen. Aw, damn. Your pen…that thing’s gone forever now.

“Go figure, looking for my pen and I found your toolkit,” You chuckle goodnaturedly as you stand up from the floor, dusting yourself off.

“Our little lab good luck charm strikes again, however can we repay you?” Viktor teases, him and Jayce headed over to your side of the room now. Whatever Jayce had said to him certainly seemed to put him at ease, your face going red as you played Viktor’s words over and over in your mind. You could think of a couple ways he could repay you. Shit, focus, they’re both staring expectantly.

“You can repay me by getting some actual work done while I grab us lunch,” You make a big show of rolling your eyes as you hand over the box. Viktor gasps in mock offense while Jayce makes puppy dog eyes at you.

“Aw, you’re leaving us?” Jayce whines. “But I didn’t even get to read through your notes yet!”

“There’s not even notes to look through yet, we haven’t gotten anything done this last hour,” You point out. Jayce sighs dramatically, his big, sad eyes still staring pathetically back at you. Incapable of resisting, you grab a book off the table and shove it into his chest. “Here, you big baby. You can look through my old notes while I grab you ungrateful wretches some food.”

Jayce flutters his eyelashes and hugs the book to his chest, “Awww, you always know just the things to say!”

Viktor glares over at Jayce, “What? That’s not fair, what am I supposed to read?” Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you watch Viktor swipe the other book off the table.  

Drawing Viktor and Jayce in the lab wasn’t just a random thing you decided to do today. Your sketch book was almost entirely filled with different sketches of the men from almost every time you visited the lab for the last six months. If either of them looked through your sketch book you’d probably have to quit your job, move countries, and then completely change your identity so nobody will ever know you’re the poor schmuck falling for the brightest minds in Piltover.

“Not that one!” You yelped, quickly trying to snatch the notebook back from Viktor. Unfortunately, Viktor shoots his arm out of reach lightning fast, filling you with dread. Both men look at you in shock. Which quickly gave way into the most devious smirks you’ve ever seen.

“Why? What’s in here that you don’t want us to see, hm?” Viktor practically purrs, half lidded eyes making you stutter over your words.

“What? Nothing! Give it back!” Making another grab for it, this time Jayce swipes it from Viktor and lifts it high up above his head. You could kill him.

“Hmmmm, I dunno, Viktor. Sounds like there’s something pretty important in here,” Jayce has his free hand on his hip, carrying on a casual conversation with his partner as you jump up and down. You’re getting nowhere with snatching your notebook back. “Maybe we should keep it safe while our darling reporter gets lunch?”

“Oh how kind, Jayce! You wouldn’t mind, would you, doll?” Viktor hums at you. He’s not hiding his amusement at your struggle at all as Jayce chuckles and wiggles the book out of your reach.

Your face is burning from the energy you’re wasting trying to jump as high as you can and also because maybe you��re a little flustered. You’d almost missed the pet names the two had given you. Almost. It wasn’t helping out with your situation at all, though. Focus, time to think of a different tactic.

Neither inventor was prepared for you to take a running start and leap onto Jayce.

“Woah!” Jayce borderline squeaks as he immediately lets go of both books to wrap his arms around you. His big, strong arms that are built with muscle from all the time he spends in the forge. Big, strong arms that are wrapped around your waist to stop you from slipping where you're hanging from his shoulders. You almost don’t even notice that he dropped your books, too caught up in the sheer heat radiating off of him. “Are you ok??”

This hadn’t been your plan.

Originally, you had planned to just climb him until you reached the book, but now with your notebook free and one of the two most handsome men at the academy holding you tight…could you really call it a failed plan?

Right. Jayce asked you a question. And he was staring at you in shock. Viktor was doing the same. OK, yeah, time to be normal. You could do that…right?

After untangling yourself from Jayce’s arms and hopping to the ground, you snatch up your notebook and give the boys a sheepish smile.

“Oh geez, no idea what came over me, guys! Probably just hangry, I’ll go grab that lunch now, enjoy the old notes!” You manage to just duck out of the room as both scientists open their mouths to say something. The bang of the lab door slamming shut has never sounded so sweet before.

It’s a herculean task to not replay that awkward interaction over and over in your head. Feeling tortured as it plays through again and again in your mind’s eye, but it almost feels worse when you try to think of anything else.

You shake yourself mentally as you stand in line at the academy’s dining hall. Yes, you’re the world’s most socially inept reporter. BUT at least you grabbed your book and prevented the world from ending via your stupid crush drawings being exposed to said crushes. Flipping to a random page in your book, you nearly drop it when you open to lined paper and a paragraph detailing the top ten most unconventional uses for Hextech.

The book slams shut, your shaking hands doing so on impulse. Quickly you tear the book open to another page, maybe you were seeing things. It’s an interview on Viktor’s work ethic. Another page. A think piece on Jayce’s past and how it led to where he’s at today. Another page and another and another.

You grabbed the wrong book.

From behind you a student clears their throat, asking if you were gonna move up. The dining hall continued to slowly shuffle forward like your entire world didn’t just stop. On autopilot, you stumble to close the gap in the line, muttering some half-assed apology as your mind reels.

The notebook for your reports was here, which could only mean that your sketchbook was left behind with the last two people you’d ever want it to be left with. There’s no chance in hell they aren’t flipping through it right now and laughing over how hopelessly and desperately in love you are.

To your agony, the dining hall line was steadily shortening, even as you do your best to drag your feet the entire way. You were dreading coming back to the lab.

Maybe there was a chance they had opened to a life drawing of Piltover.

Yeah! Maybe they opened to a less damning picture and decided to respect your wishes for your sketchbook to remain untouched. You were worrying over nothing. It’ll all turn out fine in the end. Probably.

—

“Did you really draw all of these yourself??” You hadn’t even been back in the lab for five seconds before Piltover’s golden boy was in your face, holding a head shot of himself that you’d done in graphite last week.

“I quit. Find a new reporter who will pick up your stupid lunches.”

“Oh, Jayce, leave them alone,” Viktor looks entirely too amused where he’s sitting with his legs crossed. Jayce is leaning against the desk to Viktor’s right and flipping excitedly through the pages. “This is obviously personal to them.”

“What? My private sketches that I never let anyone touch? No, go ahead,” You shrug your shoulders, unpacking your bag on Viktor’s other side. The knowing look in his eyes was making you twitch, so you refused to look at either of them.

“These are incredible, Y/N. Seriously, I’m floored,” Jayce gushes, passing the book over to Viktor.

You fight back the urge to throw Jayce’s lunch across the lab and sprint out, never to return. “It’s just drawings, Jayce.” You mutter through gritted teeth. This was like torture. There’s no way in hell they didn’t know you had a crush on the both of them by now.

“Don’t sell yourself short, now,” Viktor hums as he thumbs through the pages and stops at the one you did today. Through the messy bits of his hair that are constantly falling into his eyes, he looks up at you. Almost right through you, honestly. It’s like he can see through your act, the way you play unbothered when you’re nothing but a hot mess inside. His golden eyes are piercing from this close, and when he points back to the drawing, you’re almost relieved at the excuse to look anywhere else. “There’s obviously a lot of passion that goes into these, hm?”

“Stop fucking with me, Viktor,” You grit out, not even pretending to keep yourself busy with the lunches anymore. In your ears you can practically hear all the blood rushing to your head. It’s fucking with your head, you don’t know what Viktor’s up to and you just want the games to be over with. You’re so busy glaring daggers at Viktor that you don’t even notice that Jayce has shifted from his partner’s side to right behind you until he places a gentle hand on your waist.

“Fucking with you? I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Viktor hums. The corner of his mouth twitches up as you jump at Jayce’s touch, and you almost don’t hear him add, under his breath; “Not yet anyways…”

“We just wanted to thank you for all the lovely art work you’ve made of us,” Jayce’s voice comes from directly beside your ear, and you absentmindedly sway backwards. Leaning into where you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. Good lord, does he always run this hot? You feel like you’re melting. “That ok? You gonna let us thank you?”

“I - well, I wouldn’t say no, but-” It felt like your head was spinning. Jayce was practically snug against your back at this point, Viktor smirking in front of you while watching you slowly lose composure. You try to gather yourself enough for a full sentence, “Wait, I’m sorry. I’m confused. You guys aren’t…weirded out?”

“Of course not,” Viktor assures you as he takes one of your hands and uses the desk to help push himself to his feet. “I like getting to see this side of you. For someone who spends all their time digging into other’s secrets, you aren’t very forthright.”

“Although I kind of wish you had felt comfortable enough to show us yourself. I’m sorry you grabbed the wrong notebook,” Jayce says, pressing a kiss to the top of your shoulder. An action that nearly wipes every thought from your brain clean. There’s absolutely no way this is actually happening. You’re half tempted to pinch yourself.

“I wanted to,” You blurt out, the words surprising you with how much conviction you put into them. Once they were out in the air, you found that you meant them. The words came out easier this time, “I just didn’t know how. Honestly, I just felt like an asshole for assuming you guys were a couple and didn’t want to make things awkward again.”

You can feel more than hear Jayce chuckling behind you. In response, Viktor shoots him a fond look over your shoulder. You’re more than a little bit lost when Viktor makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.

“Ehh, about that.”

“What. What?? Have you two been messing with me this entire time??” You try to turn around in Jayce’s hold, catching a glimpse of his red face before he turns you right back around.

“No, no! Nothing like that!” Jayce reassures you. Huffing and leaning back into where Jayce is standing sturdy and strong behind you, you raise an expectant eyebrow at Viktor. “We really were just friends when you asked if we were dating.”

“It’s just your little comment made the both of us realize we wanted something more than that,” Viktor is staring into your eyes again, although the golden hue’s less piercing this time. His eyes are full of intensity, but less like an interrogation this time and a bit more smug. Like everything was falling into place exactly how he wanted it to.

It took a large amount of restraint to hold back from yelling out a triumphant ‘I KNEW IT!!!’ Instead, you settled on “Oh? And where do I fit into all of this?”

Like a cat who got the canary, Viktor’s smirk widened. Apparently that had been just the right thing to say.

“Where you’ve been fitting in this entire time, my dear,” Viktor purrs, almost closing the gap between you two as he places his hand on your waist, opposite of Jayce’s.

“Right here next to us,” Jayce finishes Viktor’s thought, and you wonder if they rehearsed this beforehand. Not that you had much time to wonder after Jayce started placing a trail of kisses along your shoulder and up the side of your neck, effectively killing any and all brain function you had left.

Your head was still spinning but in some weird way you were growing used to it around your two muses. Fortunately, you’ve been growing fond of their brand of chaos. There wasn’t anybody else in all of Piltover or the Undercity that could leave you reeling like Viktor and Jayce. It was almost suffocating, the heat being generated from where you were stuck between the two of them, but you found yourself rather enjoying the feeling.

Afterall, you’ve always been good with tight spaces.

[alitgblog]

okok finally caught up on litg s9

gonna try to summarize this neatly bc my game didn't save properly and I played volume 10 twice and sped through volume 11

Zeph is hot and thats a problem for me bc I'm so annoyed at the lack of branching and consequences in this game it has manifested into me making up story for fusebox about MC being upset that Stefan keeps acting like nothing is wrong when I personally am still upset casa amor got Chen dumped (ok that was my fault technically but only bc I wanted him to come back to drama). So now I'm like MC should have a summer fling with Zeph, why not

they're so wishy washy about how Kelly and Finn broke up and it just all feels like hearsay all the time. at the end of volume 11 they seem to decide Kelly thought it was all done pretty respectfully but her comments in volume 10 about movie night seem to disagree??? just asking for a little bit of consistency since I gotta track other people's drama other than my own

also so sorry to kelly who is actually interested in zeph and I am less so interested in him and more just annoyed at the bad writing for stefan

the writing has always been stilted and/or cringe but for some reason I notice it especially with Zeph, like it does feel like his dialogue was written by AI unfortunately. And it puts me off his character a lot, except, again, he's hot and so maybe I'm just like hey don't hurt your pretty head trying to think up romantic scenarios, Zeph. Something odd about him too is he doesn't mention any previous connection to Love Island, and I know he's a new character, but at least Henri and Chen talked about their last times on the show.

I'd like to apologize

I don't know what surprise we're getting next volume but for my own storyline I kinda want the guy dumped post casa to come back. like I'd go back to Chen easy. but this is my delusional ass still just hoping we get drama from casa bc they dropped the ball on it again this season. Curious about talent show but considering how they fucked up Mr Love Island I have little hope.

I forgot this meant we'd have to deal with eddie. hes there like Johnny/Nicolas to the point where I almost prefer if it was one of them around but at least his chaos run makes more sense than johnny/Nicolas just randomly deciding to stir shit out of nowhere after leading MC on and the game forcing us to couple with them.

Eddie pls stfu poor Kelly

said this before but if eddie was gonna show up for heart rate challenge why didn't he do a little dance? is it because he sucks as a bombshell??? YEAH. It makes so much more sense to switch him and Zeph, like yeah that would mean we have less time with zeph and more with Eddie, but Zeph could put on a good heart rate challenge performance and Eddie could be way more catty and start shit during movie night than Zeph who wanted to play nice.

I'm so sad to say goodbye to Finn because it felt like he didn't get a good chance (unless MC is pursuing him I guess). but compared to Hamish, who, even if he got dumped here, would've had a lifelong friendship with MC and Natasha and had multiple chances to couple with people, it feels sad to see him go without a good ending. I mean I guess he's got closure with Kat and Kelly, but he felt always stuck in those couples whereas Hamish tried to explore connections with Natasha, Uma, and Melissa. I just think we should've let him punch Eddie in the face after eddie was so mean to Kat and MC.

I've decided to watch the hamish route vicariously through yall and I'll go for wither zeph or Stefan unless something else wild happens until the finale. so yall better tell me what happens it was such a hard decision when the game narrowed it down 🥺

I also think it would be great if we had chats with characters to decide who we're sticking with. like this season aside from maybe the beginning henri/chen/MC/Melissa thing, it feels like one of the other girls always asks you "who do you want to be chosen by" and then you tell her and that person picks you, but then you never address it or outright reject the other person face to face. it's always just like two sentences or just "a sad look" or a gem scene I'm not paying for.

one positive thing I've seen this last volume though is the mini date with your LI before Zeph's date. like its one of the better scenes they've written that isn't just someone outright saying I like you or just chatting. like its fun, and the only other moment I can think of that's similar that doesn't cost gems is the Hamish eavsdropping scene. now if only this was also tailored to your LI because as someone coupled with Stefan, low key unexpected, but imagine if I had picked Henri??

also a lot more choices this volume were worth 10 gems I think

that being said the amount they're asking for in the heart rate challenge is crazy for literally one scene because MC's outfit is like 14+ gems, then you van go for am extra 10 to see your male LI's outfit, and then another extra 10 for the female LI outfit. and this hardly changes the gameplay or gives you more info 🙃

[thesherrinfordfacility]

let's talk about shax

looking at shax in finer detail has been on my to-do list for some time, and further to a little ??? post i made, i think it's high time to get some thoughts out on virtual paper. i won't pretend that this is going to reach any kind of logical or plausible conclusion - because let's face it, it won't - but given that she has a pretty substantial 40mins-ish of screentime, and is raising more questions than giving answers, she needs to be looked at anyway!✨

(an extremely long post, for which you can have a half-hearted apology)

rank and position

(and a little bit on furfur my beloved)

chronologically, we first meet shax in 1941 when she and furfur are colleagues processing incoming arrivals to hell - essentially made out to all be nazis. she remarks later on that is a"former admissions demon, senior grade", which would track that, most likely, she is fairly low-ranking, albeit in a possibly supervisory role. she's immediately characterised as efficient and ambitious, processing paperwork robotically and swiftly, and has a more no-nonsense demeanour, especially in contrast to furfur's more... customer service? approach:

but then when furfur goes to the fire vending machine, she follows and hangs back, before making some stilted small-talk with him. she then takes the in that furfur gives her - his discontentment with working in admissions - to put forward an idea of intelligence sharing, a very scratch-my-back-i'll-scratch-yours offer. she hears about a position opening up in temptations, and furfur baulks in that he doesn't have that ambitious drive, that it's never come naturally to him to push upwards and put himself forwards for higher position (despite his fatigue in his current department).

she assures him that she has in-roads with higher-ranking demons, specifically those on the dark council, providing that he essentially does the same for her by sharing any knowledge he gains of wayward demons etc. obviously, he doesn't do this with crowley later in the episode - keeps the intel to himself - and when it goes tits up with the photograph, she appears to rub it in.

now, likening this to any real-life context, it's usually a little weird when a 'normal' member of staff has the ear of the big-wigs. i certainly don't think, in shax's case, it's for any lewd reason that she does, but i think it instead indicates that she's either an internal informant, literally hired to do exactly as she's done with furfur and report any insubordination or rebellion*, and/or she was particularly close with the higher demons pre-fall. the latter, to me, seems unlikely, given their interactions in the bookshop in ep6.

so, shax starts off low-ranking, potentially surveilling her colleagues from that innocuously low position (which could further suggest it's a plant, and she's actually considered high ranking in the figurative sense), and is able to sense discontentment or insecurity in others to manipulate to her advantage*. however, the dynamic is reversed she then has to go crawling to furfur in ep5 when she needs foot soldiers for her bookshop siege, and furfur certainly regards her apathetically during this particular interaction, which ultimately bites her in the demon arse when she can only get 70 demons rallied.

but then we move to her in a newly promoted position on earth, replacing crowley. i think we can be fairly certain that crowley is of at least middling rank in hell (i do not think, by any stretch, he's considered as low-ranking as basic demons are, for example - and, this time, it's probably because of not only his power but his seemingly substantial connection to beelzebub pre-fall, or even based on a part that he had in the fall itself).

now, this doesn't necessarily mean that being hell's representative in earth means you have to have rank - crowley could have gained some rank in hell following the successful fall of humanity, not necessarily before it - but if you are in some measure responsible for hellish goings-on on earth, i'd bet that you would need to be well-regarded in hell to be trusted to do so. ergo - i think by the point that she comes to earth, shax has been promoted by rank, not just by position, if we consider the two as separate elements.

the bit here that gets me is that shax describes herself as a plenipotentiary. this is usually used in relation to ambassadorship and by definition means someone that can take action on behalf of the sovereign, or - more generally - has full powers to act in place of an authority. using 'plenipotentiary' doesn't appear to be a bluff only to aziraphale, given that she also says it to beelzebub's guard, so it definitely appears the case that she does in fact have these powers. that being said, it seems that there is a limit to her authority; she has to have the attack on the bookshop officially sanctioned by beelzebub. but again, it seems indicative that her rank is increased, to have this level of power.

the other bit is that she reveals herself to be 'demon of the fifth house' to the guard, who in turn announces that bit specifically upon her entrance into the throne room (?). so, this must have some kind of significance over her position on earth, and possibly is instead to do with her rank - not to mention would be appropriate announcement when appearing before royalty. if we consider that in the ars goetia, the demon shax held the title of marquis, this would correlate as being below king, president, prince, and duke, also listed as demon ranks, and all five ranks above counts/earls and knights (and im assuming this based on the british nobility system.. im also personally not subscribing the use of 'fifth house' to anything astrological, but it certainly has its implications that are quite interesting).

lastly, in ep6, we end on the suggestion that furfur and shax 'make up', and he agrees to help her get the position of ruling hell in the wake of the departure of beelzebub.

dagon is titled as a lord in s1, and in s2 is indicated as being at least head of admissions (being lord of the files, this makes sense), as well as potentially having their own seat on the dark council (they're addressed by the honorific 'maleficence' by furfur, and dagon is sat along with the two other demons that, together, might make up the dark council)*.

by the ars goetia, furfur is ranked as a count, but his presence in the bookshop itself in ep6 suggests he too may in fact be dark council* (which for me, raises questions - can we presume that he finally worked his way up to recquisitions, gained a rank, and a subsequent seat on the dark council because of some success he's had off-screen? is this where the s3 1941 scene could come in, and was shax involved in this, too?). but in any case, if we follow that above system, shax would outrank them both, even if she's not dark council - making her a prime candidate for the princeship (especially if a) their story to satan about uncovering the biggest traitor to hell* goes well, and b) as long as someone outranking her doesn't make a comeback - duke hastur, perhaps?)

*dagon does say in ep6 that they believe "the dark council will have something to say about all this nonsense", and furfur in turn uses "they" when referring to the council, which would suggest they both sit apart from it... but i personally don't think that excludes the possibility that dagon or indeed furfur are on the council; perhaps that they just, in fact, are only two members of it, with two other members being the two demons sat beside dagon in ep4...?

powers and characteristics

ive noted in this speculation about her ability to sense gabriel in the bookshop, but i don't think that it's necessarily a special ability or power. given that gabriel is indeed in the fly (and, as the linked post suggests, was in fact not affected by the 25-lazarii miracle), she would be probably able to sense him like any demon would, and more readily sense him than a fellow angel would (ie. michael in ep2) - consider it potentially as a self-defense kind of mechanism; to sense out an enemy being.

im undecided, thinking about what other abilities she displays, that they are in fact powers, per se. crowley is described in s1 as being singular in his ability to hold the burning bentley together because he uniquely has an imagination - and i don't think this has changed (that crowley has power because of his imagination). demons in general seem to have innate sense and abilities for certain nefarious deeds, but... shax in particular appears to just be very good at using them.

*the most obvious thing is her ability to sense weakness and insecurity - i would suggest that this is just something all demons can do, but there's conflicting argument to this. regardless, she demonstrates this keenly in ep6 with maggie and aziraphale both:

now, shax deliberately references material things that, on the surface, she hadn't ought to know - the shop issues with maggie, and the eating (specifically the sushi) thing with aziraphale. and both absolutely hit their target. now, she could be able to sense these things as a result of some degree of telepathy or acute empathy.

that being said, however, i think her knowing these things is more to do with her role in hell potentially being that of an informant. which begs the following questions:

how long has she been watching whickber street? and why havent aziraphale and crowley noticed her in the area? (we know from ep1 that crowley knows that shax is constantly checking in on him - but im assuming he doesn't know that she's doing it to this extent?) (and im also assuming that this isn't, in fact, at least one of the reasons why crowley has taken to sleeping in the bentley instead of finding accommodation elsewhere - nor with aziraphale... which leads me to the next question)

has crowley in fact noticed her lurking around secretively, and doesn't want to insert himself into the bookshop permanently because if he did, he'd weaken the security of the shop itself? (re: the whole sanctuary permission thing)

could crowley potentially have let something slip in his off-screen interactions with her? she demonstrates that she's an intuitive talker - crowley nearly lets (ep3) and aziraphale does let (ep4) something slip to her - and misdirection is a huge part in how she gets information divulged to her (whilst posed as being a comic bit, i feel like the boiler conversation was in part used to catch crowley off-guard, before she resorts to outright threatening aziraphale)

alternatively - we see shax recruit furfur in ep4 to gather intel for her. she also attempts to recruit crowley directly in ep1, to her failure (and this informs her on where his loyalty lies - crowley does not make an exemplary spy im afraid). therefore, is there anything to suggest that she doesn't do this elsewhere on earth? are there potentially demons up on earth, specifically in whickber street, that are feeding her intel on crowley and aziraphale generally? (side-eye at ms cheng, and potentially nina? it could potentially account for some Weird Ass moments on both of their parts)

where intel on maggie comes in - is maggie in fact a replacement for aziraphale, and is in shax's purview to spy on? and/or is it just ambient information she's picked up herself from hanging around the bookshop unseen/that her informants have given her? aziraphale had two conversations about the rent with maggie in ep1; one taking place in the record store privately, but the second out on the street.

and, just maybe, is this intelligence on aziraphale specifically being fed back to heaven? to metatron? through the hell-vine? metatron brings him a coffee from GMCoGMD; is it because they've seen aziraphale go in on numerous occasions, and assumes this is what he orders?

moving to my next point somewhat, that also informs on the above: shax is able to fully disguise herself. she disguises herself as the hitchhiker in ep4, and as multiple people in her conversation with crowley in ep3 out on the street. i don't think it's necessarily possession, but more that she's able to, or is mindful to, blend in more completely with humans. this makes sense, once again, if she is essentially a spy (which, now i think about it, poses such an interesting mirror to crowley in terms of the espionage theme). im not convinced that it's really anything more than that, other than to inform that she may have been lurking about, unrecognised from being in disguise, around whickber street.

that being said, she evidently still doesn't have a full grasp on social cues - sarcasm being a prominent one. i think at some points she may use this perceived cluelessness to her advantage - it makes others underestimate her - but for the most part, i think she's still getting used to fieldwork, and is quickly trying to learn these humanisms so she doesn't get caught out again (eg. in ep2, crowley has to tell her that what he said was sarcasm, but in ep6, she herself recognises the sarcasm coming from beelzebub). (it kind of, very loosely, reminds me of the brilliant scene in inglorious basterds with hicox holding up three fingers wrong - assimilation to local custom is a huge part in maintaining a convincing cover).

i do have one small conundrum, however, and that's her scene in the car with aziraphale. first of all, we leave off from ep3 where she asks crowley where aziraphale is - and this seems relatively genuine and not quite a bluff; that she's trying to needle him in a last-minute attempt for information. but, she then immediately seems to know that aziraphale is on his way back from edinburgh. now, i couldn't quite work out why she would suddenly know this (seems to be a big intel gap to be filled off-screen), but then i realised that not only does aziraphale talk about going to edinburgh whilst outside in ep2, but in ep3 it's mentioned in front of muriel:

now, it could be something of nothing (and reflection i think it is, in fact, nothing). we know that muriel likely goes straight into GMCoGMD after this scene in the backroom, and we also know that she reports back into michael and uriel on her findings. was this a bit of information that they reported back in an off-screen conversation, and the intel made its way from heaven, down to beelzebub, and back to shax? and so, at the end of ep4, when shax says "the angel we to edinburgh... you know which one.", she's referring back to a previous conversation between her and beelzebub?

(in hindsight this seems Very Obvious but i needed to parse it out to arrive at this conclusion - apologies)

but back to ep4: she speculates about aziraphale and crowley's relationship, and she could have gotten this information from furfur post-1941. but she also remarks on the bentley - that crowley has had it for 90 years. now, im not entirely convinced that shax would have researched it. did she ask crowley once, and he told her? alternatively, has someone been spying for her since 1941? is it anything to do with his and crowley's conversation about aziraphale driving the bentley, in ep2, taking place out on the street? who was around to hear it?

costume

now i can't take the credit for these two particular spots, they were pointed out by much more observant people than me (thank you @hellsgardener01 and @canarybell for this!!!) but shax definitely appears to have pinched a couple of crowley's accessories - namely, the 2008 sunglasses, and his watch:

so, off the back of this, a couple of thoughts from me:

crowley may well have left them at the flat when he had to vacate (regardless if they're miracled or actual material objects), and presumably shax has just helped herself

she may have done this as a trophy/power move (bless), as an intimidation tactic (she wears them, as far as i can see, specifically when she's confronting crowley, and not in other scenes), or because she has a weird obsession with crowley himself... not sure how i feel about the latter, personally

i couldn't quite get a good enough picture, but he also wears the watch in the 2008 st james park scene, same as the sunglasses. now, i don't necessarily want to get crackpot (but im gonna*), but this is also the same scene where god narrates that the ducks are particularly fond of bread fed to them by secret agents (and yes, yes, i know it was comedy and for The Bit, but stick with me it's fun).

there is also the snake clasp/broach on her waist - now, i can't spot this on any of crowley's costumes (although, if anyone else does, please let me know!!! ), but id also add that whilst it's not 100% clear, she may also be wearing this in 1941, and not just exclusively in 2023 (ie. is it anything to do with crowley?) it's indicated not only by the imprint on the leather breastplate she wears in eps5 and 6, but also supported by the ars goetia, that her aspect is a stork - which begs the question as to why she's wearing a snake, of all things?

and last thing! in ep6, when laying on the sofa, she's wearing a ring that looks veeeeery similar to the one furfur gives the nazis in ep4. it could be that she calls furfur during the siege, and he informs dagon and beelzebub that they need to go check out whats happening on earth (which could explain why furfur is there is he's not dark council*).

on a lighter note: the ducks

this is a relatively small thing, and a bit of a stretch, but hang in there soldier, you're nearly at the end. in s1, in the 1862 scene, i potentially think crowley is on edge after 1827 not just because he got dragged off to hell (and tortured?) for an undetermined amount of time, but because someone overheard him and aziraphale in the graveyard - i explore this in this post. in 1862, he suddenly becomes a lot more paranoid about being overheard, even by the ducks (albeit jokily). because they must have ears - its how they hear other ducks.

so this conversation in s2 feels less like shax being ignorant about earth, and possibly that actually crowley may have had the right of in 1862, even if he doesn't know it - that ducks have ears. shax seems inordinately tense about the conversation, and seems to relax once the conversation changes back to her checking in on crowley herself.

(look, im not saying she has ducks act as her informants, or that she or anyone else is making a habit of possessing ducks, *or - given that her aspect is a stork, - that she's taken to chilling out in the pond herself...but... im not not saying that, either).

all of this to say - not exactly sure what this all means in the grand scheme of things. but i do think shax is - has been - more important than we've possibly regarded her, and that she's been a little closer to home, for a longer time, than we've given credit for. either way, she's my next bond.

[oh-no-another-idea]

Make me write: results

Since the fun time I had watching you all vote on this post, I have gone and gotten some work done on both the winning WIPs--thank you for the motivational boost! Especially since I hadn't touched Stars and Ships in quite some time. ;)

Here's a little excerpt from both WIPs!

"The Great Inventor is just a guy and you accidentally read his fractured mind?"

“You saw things,” Christopher said, quiet. “In my head. What kind of person are you, anyways?” Empathy stepped back. “I—I didn’t mean to,” she confessed. “I was trying to see if you were alive.” “Do you regularly read people’s minds to see if they’re alive?” “I haven’t ever read a mind,” Empathy told him. “I don’t even think that’s what happened with you.” Christopher’s stare was unsettling. “Something happened with me. Whether you know what it was or not. I could…feel you in there.” “I’m sorry,” Empathy said, because accidental telepathy seemed like the kind of thing a person should apologize for. From Christopher’s wry smile she could tell he didn’t think a simple apology was going to cut it anymore. She didn’t blame him. “Empathy,” Captain said. “I need you to tell me what you felt when you read him.” She turned towards him. “…At first, I couldn’t read him. It was like…the static of a screen on the wrong channel. Nothing there. As though he was…shut off.” “Is it worse?” Captain asked. Christopher held his gaze. “More frequent. Longer dissociation. I think…I think I don’t have much time left.” “You’re the greatest mind of the century,” Fuchsia stated. “What does this mean? What are you talking about?” “What do you know about the Great Inventor?” Christopher asked. He made jerky movements with his hands on the title, as though he wasn’t talking about himself. “What legends are they telling out there in the world?”

"The Space Crew WIP that I haven't touched in months...?" (Now newly added on to!!!)

Quin didn’t believe it until he was standing on the Flats with his two—well, one—good leg. As far as the eye could see was sand, the surface textured with eddying swirling where the water had come in and disappeared again. On the horizon, the sea swelled, respectfully keeping its distance. Navigating the Flats was a whole different sort of tragedy. While the tide was out, boats were moored in midair, tied to two different anchor points to keep the canoes from smashing to pieces in the water. Every building was built up on stilts twice the length of a human, with a few bridges connecting some of them. “Pity we didn’t come during a high tide,” Jax said mournfully, chin tucked into his collar to avoid a tiny bit of the high winds. “I could’ve relaxed in my little canoe and let Sepia paddle me around.” Sepia reddened. “The address is in the heart of the city,” he said, and led the way into the crowds.

Adding Stars and Ships' taglist below the cut! :D

@indecentpause @memento-morri-writes @jellybeanswriting @blind-the-winds @outpost51 @cilly-the-writer @charlesjosephwrites @yejidoesthings (ask to be added or removed!)

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hello! I couldn't think of anything good to request. But I figured I'd try. 😅 How about head cannon? ATEEZ takes you to their high school reunion and you run into their first love. How would each member handle you finding out about this person from their past?

감사합니다! 🫰🏿

most of the month later...

you sure can! this was so fun to write, ngl. trying to reflect their different personalities in the details... ah, i loved it. thank you so much for your request, noona! i think sannie's is the longest*, so enjoy that~

*(editing ash here: it is)

ateez reacts: class reunion ft. their first love

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event, currently closed.

PAIRING: ot8 x gn!reader TAGS/WARNINGS: none this time but lmk if i missed smth! GENRE: fluff, lil bit of angst (hj & san) WORD COUNT: ...~3k? really? oops masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

kim hongjoong ✵ wc : 407

✵ oh man. Most likely to have a messy break-up

✵ not necessarily pettiness and backstabbing messy, but emotionally charged and hard on everyone messy

✵ because hj is a passionate person—his work, his friends, his beliefs; his love life is no exception (and it was worse in high school)

✵ he does everything in his power to divert you both away from them

✵ honestly, they’ve probably barely spoken since then and neither knew the other was coming

✵ but when you two end up at the snack table at the same time while your boyfriend is in the bathroom, you entirely oblivious and them walking on eggshells, they break the ice

✵ and you’re kind of irked at how surprised you are when they’re so sweet to you

✵ with how quick hj had been all night to steer you away from them, you were expecting venom and violence and god knows what else. but they’re kind and nice to talk to and honestly seem a little wary of you if anything (should they be?)

✵ it’s not until they stop talking mid-sentence and you feel an arm slip around your waist, making you jump a little—hj doesn’t do skinship normally, much less in public—and you turn to see a mess of emotions swirling behind his eyes that everything falls into place

✵ the conversation is quick and stilted on matter what, and he keeps his hand on you somehow the whole time

✵ if they’re petty, he’s having none of it. he’ll cut them off mid-sentence, chastise them for their actions and drag you back out the front doors. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been there, you’re heading back home for a movie night in. snacks, drinks, and cuddles are all on hj as a form of apology

✵ if they’re kind, he’ll stay and make slightly-awkward small talk for a while, with you acting as a buffer to keep the tense silences from getting too long. when they finally leave you, he’s staring after them with a slightly pained expression, and you have to tap his shoulder to bring him back to you. in this version, you’re the one to suggest movie night

✵ either way, he apologizes for the way he acted when you get home, and you’re… kind of stunned, reassuring him that you understand why he acted the way he did

✵ “i just loved them so much, once. ah, well. it can’t be that bad, really, if it led me to you.”

park seonghwa ✵ wc : 344

✵ easily the most graceful handler of this situation

✵ does not strike me as a messy break-up haver; he’d be more of an amicable parting of ways type

✵ most likely to be friends with his ex before y’all pull up to the function anyway, tbh

✵ let’s pretend that’s not the case tho, just for funsies (and an attempt at chaos)

✵ he’d know who was coming beforehand as much as he could, because if he isn’t going to actually be able to catch up with people, he doesn’t see the point in going

✵ so he knows in advance, and warns you/fills you in on all the dirty details

✵ not that there really are any—it was all pretty straight-forward. neither of them thought a high school romance was worth halting their own ambitions for

✵ hwa is definitely the type to make his rounds and then settle in with old friends to really talk and relax for the rest of it, so you run into them pretty early on

✵ if they’re petty, he indulges it for about thirty seconds with a narrowed gaze, a tense smile and stilted nods while he scopes out the quickest escape route. the moment he finds even a slightly viable option, he’s raising a hand to that person and whisking you away without a second thought, leaving his ex blinking after you both

✵ if they’re kind, you probably see them a few times throughout the night. they talk for the longest out of any of his acquaintances, and they’ll stop by your guys’ table once you settle down for the evening

✵ overall, it’s a net positive experience for both of you. you enjoy seeing hwa catching up with his old friends, and he appreciates you coming with him and talking with his friends so much

✵ he’s just smiling softly the entire drive home, holding your hand and thanking you for coming with him over and over, until you’re giggling at him about it

✵ “really, i mean it, thank you. i wouldn’t have had as much fun with anybody else by my side.”

jeong yunho ✵ wc : 316

✵ yu strikes me as the type to have wanted things to work out with his highschool sweetheart, despite knowing that it probably wouldn’t, so seeing them hurts a little bit

✵ he doesn’t really let it show, but you know him well enough to know note the slight drop in his energy when they inevitably approach the two of you

✵ he introduces you as his partner to them, but doesn’t give you context for their previous relationship

✵ (you don’t need it, he told you who they were before you came, maybe even before the reunion was even an idea if you’ve been dating long enough)

✵ he has an arm around you the whole conversation, and you can feel him pull you just a little closer when their reminiscing hits a spot that’s a little too tender

✵ bonus points if you react and lean into him, you’ll get that little smile that makes his cheeks rounder

✵ you’re honestly a little impressed with how unaffected he looks on the outside

✵ if they’re petty, he will refuse to stoop to their level. he keeps things short, sweet and polite, sweeping you away to catch up with someone else the moment he has the opportunity, keeping you from getting caught in their claws

✵ if they’re kind, he reflects that back, laughing with them and letting them embarrass him with the stories they have together. it’s kind of sweet, and they might keep in contact afterwards

✵ all-in-all, he doesn’t want to spend ridiculously long talking to them, even if they seem to be getting along well 

✵ if you ask him why, he’d flush, admitting he didn’t want you to be jealous or think he’d go back to them when he has you

✵ it confuses you, and you laugh, thanking him for the thought but reassuring him you’d never think that

✵ “good. because you’re the only one i want. you’re stuck with me.”

kang yeosang ✵ wc : 394

✵ poor boy is flustered oh my god

✵ i don’t think the break-up itself matters overmuch for him; he doesn’t dwell on it so it doesn’t affect his actions/feelings the way it does with some of the others

✵ he honestly probably didn’t even think about the fact that they’d be there

✵ it takes him a while to register that they’re even at the function though, once you’re there

✵ either one of his friends has to point it out or he literally runs into them, i truly don’t know which is more likely

✵ he definitely doesn’t go out of his way to track them down or anything, though, so they end up coming to you in some way

✵ no matter how, it results in a short-circuiting sangie and some rapid blinking as he wrangles himself back into his brain

✵ you have to introduce yourself to stall for him while you lace your fingers and pull him back from whatever cloud his soul sailed off to

✵ he’s another that doesn’t really want to spend too much time talking to someone he has a history with, especially out of respect for you (whether you mind or not)

✵ if they’re petty, he’s immediately more flustered and stumbling over his words a little. yeo doesn’t strike me as the type to date someone who’s even remotely petty, so this either means his ex had a hidden side or has gone through a major character change, and he’s just… stunned. he’s flashing you apologetic looks and reaching for your hand (if he isn’t holding it already) while he tries to efficiently but kindly break the conversation off

✵ if they’re kind, it’s honestly more of a passing greeting than anything. they’re both comfortable doing the bare minimum, saying hello and introducing their current partners to each other, asking about jobs and just… moving on the second they can. the awkwardness might be a little unbearable tbh

✵ he’s pretty neutral about the whole experience, and you guys honestly probably don’t stay for long

✵ when you get home it’s snacks, movies, and cuddles on the couch for the rest of the night

✵ he thanks you for going with him while you’re prepping snacks with a hug from behind and a kiss to the cheek

✵ “i know it was boring for you. i appreciate you so much for doing that for me, my love.”

choi san ✵ wc : 457

✵ an absolute wildcard

✵ the one constant is that he still has emotions about it, but i’m not sure he’d let you know that, partially bc he might be in denial that he still has emotions about it

✵ like hwa, checked the guest list and warns you that the ex will be there, but doesn't give you the details

✵ borderline avoidant, but not to the same extent hj is; he’s just keeping a casual eye on them and floating around

✵ if it manages to keep you both farther away from them, all the better

✵ when you inevitably run into them, his mood shifts and he’s just a little more reserved

✵ he’s definitely already been holding your hand or close to it all night, but when they’re finally in front of you, the handhold gets a little tighter or his arm snakes around your shoulder/waist/hips and he tugs you in while he introduces you

✵ bonus points if you squeeze his hand or loop an arm around him in turn; you’ll get that soft little smile out of him

✵ once the conversation actually starts, he’s drawing patterns with his fingers wherever he’s got a hold of you

✵ if they’re petty, you can feel his grip on you tighten immediately and he shoots you a worried glance. he’s immediately looking for a way out, disregarding whatever the ex is saying entirely. if he hasn’t found a viable excuse in thirty seconds, he’s making one up; waving to a friend that isn’t there, downing his drink in one go, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom and doesn’t want you to get lost; he doesn’t care how it makes him look, he’s getting you both out of there now

✵ if they’re kind, he’ll exchange pleasantries, but again, he’s not going to stick around. it’s very similar to yeo; passing greetings and the bare minimum to seem respectful. if they want to talk a little more, he might stick around for a couple extra minutes, but he’s not feeling great about rehashing whatever happened between him and them.

✵ he’s a little on edge for the rest of the night, only relaxing when you’re stepping out into the parking lot

✵ he’s quiet for the ride home, and if you ask him what’s wrong, i’m not entirely sure he can answer you

✵ he’s the biggest cuddlebug when you get home, wrapping his arms around you and only letting you go long enough to change into whatever’s comfy

✵ it’s a little more than usual, but again, he can’t quite put words to what’s wrong, so he just shakes his head and cuddles into you more

✵ “i had fun tonight, but i like it better at home. you’re cozy.” (in his pouty lil voice)

song mingi ✵ wc : 369

✵ most likely to actually still be friends with his ex, methinks

✵ i don’t think he would’ve had a messy break-up in the slightest, so his ex is probably on the nicer side, and he’s probably pretty open to seeing them

✵ he’s one of the ones that will run you through the important bits of their history before y’all go

✵ he probably spends the most time talking to his ex out of anybody, if they’re still friends

✵ if they’re not, though, he’s a little wary of them

✵ avoidant p. 3, the least of them all

✵ he’s not doing anything to actively avoid them, he would simply like to, both out of respect for you and to keep his own anxiety at bay

✵ he’s respectful at least, friendly at best when they first approach y’all, though, stumbling through introducing you a little bit

✵ if they’re petty, he’s caught so off-guard. like yeo, mingi doesn’t strike me as someone who would’ve dated someone petty in the first place, so this is either a newly revealed side or a personality shift, and he doesn’t know how to handle it, exactly. i think he freezes up for a second before flashing you an apologetic look and steering you away without another word

✵ in this case, the second he gets you alone, he’s apologizing profusely, cupping your face in his hands and making sure you’re okay

✵ if they’re kind and didn’t keep in contact, his response is pretty similar to if they did. they kind of pick up where they left off, minus the touching and kissing. you get to see his grin and hear his laugh and learn some very interesting stories to use as blackmail later on

✵ either way, it ends up being a night full of laughter and good memories, both old and new

✵ you’re both pretty wiped out by the time you get home, having likely stayed the whole night, and he’s at bare minimum holding your hand the entire way

✵ another cuddlebug, scoops you into his arms the minute you’re inside, giving you a bone-crushing hug, voice muffled in your neck/shoulder/hair

✵ “i had so much fun tonight. thank you for coming with me, baby, it means so much.”

jung wooyoung ✵ wc : 359

✵ duality. king. 

✵ this man will not hesitate to meet the energy in the room, so good luck to you

✵ strikes me as the only one to potentially have had a messy break-up and still been friends with the ex tho. like through reconnection via mutual friends years later or smth

✵ if this is the case they will spend so long talking

✵ he definitely introduces you first with an arm around your waist tho

✵ definitely knows who’s on the guest list and will warn you, but it’s just a passing “yeah btw my ex will be there”

✵ falls in the neutral “not avoiding, but not seeking out” zone if they aren’t friends 

✵ much more focused on going around to his old friends and catching up

✵ however you end up running into them, the first thing woo does is introduce you with an arm firmly around you and a big grin

✵ this man looks at you with so much adoration i–

✵ if they’re petty, his mood flips like a switch. his grin drops and he’s giving bombastic side eye over the rim of his drink, tugging you closer into his side. he’s getting at least one snarky comment off in return, and if he feels like that’s enough to put them in their place, he’s whisking you away to literally anywhere else, pointedly turning his back to them. If it’s not, you might have to drag him away by the collar before he starts biting

✵ if they’re kind, he’s more than happy to talk to them for a good chunk of the night, being sure to loop you into the conversation and hiding his blush when the ex tells embarrassing stories about him (there are Many)

✵ overall, it’s a good night out with him, and you’re both probably worn out when you get home, having stayed the longest of any of the teezers

✵ cuddlebug woo is a surprise to literally no one, and you will be promptly under the covers and like half of his body the moment you’ve done your nighttime routines

✵ “god, that was so fun. when’s yours? i wanna go with you and meet all your friends, too.”

choi jongho ✵ wc : 309

✵ easily one of the most indifferent to the fact that his ex is going to be there

✵ it’s not like there are feelings on his end bc once he’s set on something he’s all in and currently he’s all in with you, so

✵ he definitely either knows or assumes and for sure lets you know beforehand

✵ also checks in to make sure you’re okay with that and lets you know that if you aren’t, he’s more than happy to stay home and have a night in with you

✵ doesn’t bother filling you in on the nitty-gritty, just gives you their name and maybe shows you a picture so you’re prepared

✵ he’s another neutral one, not avoidant or actively seeking his ex out

✵ the inevitable run-in is meant to just be a hello in passing; you guys were either on your way out or heading to talk to someone else

✵ but he puts an arm around your waist/shoulders/hips and introduces you with a polite smile

✵ he’s not really interested in talking with them in the first place

✵ if they’re petty, he’s another one to cut them off mid-sentence and call them out for what they said, whisking you away immediately. he might not leave the function completely, but if y’all don’t, he will be glaring them down the rest of the night

✵ if they’re kind, he’ll indulge them of a few minutes, especially if you’re enjoying yourself, but he will make absolutely sure to divert your attention elsewhere before you can get any embarrassing stories out of his ex

✵ if you ask him why, he flashes you a side-eye and reminds you who his hyungs are

✵ “i love you, and i’m glad you were having fun, but i don’t need to be teased more. unless you want me to uncover all your high school stories at your reunion?”

TAGLISTS (send an ask to join!) permanent [open]: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae ateez [open]: @pyeonghongrie-main @/thatonenoona

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[slxsherwriter]

Called In for Call Outs

Fandom: The Last Showing

Pairing: Platonic Stuart Lloyd x reader

Word count: 1092

Warnings: None.

Author's note: This is a fluffy little piece of setting up a friendship that could potentially turn into more. Really, I just wanted to give Stuart a hug at the beginning of the movie.

For the lovely @slashingdisneypasta and @your-mxnd-is-mxne for being wonderful, encouraging individuals.

Typically, Monday afternoons were your time off, a break from work to focus on other things. Primarily your studies. So, it wasn't exactly time off, but it was a much needed reprieve to be able to put proper focus on the assignments that were coming due that week. Today, however, was an exception. There had been frantic texts this morning from both a coworker and your manager. Multiple callouts. It seemed that more than half of the staff had gone down with the flu, thanks to the office party that had been held last week. 

As much as you had wanted to ignore it, the responsible side of you wasn't able to brush it under the rug. The essay that you needed to finish would just have to wait. Sure, you would feel stretched thin, but what other choice was there? You had the full-time job and had decided to go back to school so late in life. Not that your late thirties were late, but compared to the kids in your classes, you were old. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you grabbed your bag and hopped in the truck to head to the theater. 

It wasn't the first time that there had been issues with the machines. Things broken down all the time, new and old. It's partly why you enjoyed your job as a repairman as much as you did. It was a constant learning process to keep on top of all the newer things that you could handle while keeping skills sharp that you learned from your father. Some of those skills had been lost on other individuals your age, but not you. You had spent hours with your father in the garage of your childhood home. The one that had been converted into a little workshop. It made you all but invaluable. 

The theater was a familiar one. You came maybe every other month for something. Less their fault as much as it was just constant use. Today, one of the projectors was on the fritz. After getting past the new manager, who looked even younger than yourself, with instructions on which projector was causing problems, you picked your way through the hidden labyrinth.

There was likely only one person back here with you. Admittedly, you were looking forward to seeing him. Stuart Lloyd was always a man to brighten your day. Enthusiastic about his work and seemingly forever pleasant, he made your work here genuinely enjoyable. 

He had been shy to start off, the first few conversations stilted and a bit awkward. But eventually, when you both proved you knew what you were doing and that you weren't going to make fun of him for anything, he warmed up. It was always nice to talk to someone who was so passionate about something. And Stuart most certainly was about film. 

“Afternoon, Stuart," you greeted the older man cheerfully, clearly catching him off guard as he visibly startled. “They didn't tell ya I was coming, did they?” An unspoken apology. It took a second, but a smile finally came to his face, shoulders relaxing from where they had risen at the scare. 

“No, they neglected to mention that you would be stopping in.” He cleared his throat a little. “Isn't today your day off?” Trust him to have known your schedule. 

“Normally, yes. But, it seems that we are a little short-handed.” He tutted softly. 

“Aren't these the afternoons that you use to catch up on your coursework?” You paused in setting your bag down, surprised that he had remembered such a detail. While you had paid close attention to what he said, you didn't expect the same in return. 

“Yeah, but what am I supposed to do?” You shrugged and turned to face the man, finding his attention squarely on you already. 

“You do have to look after yourself…” It was sweet of him to be concerned. If that was what it was. Seemed to be. 

“I do, and I will. Thankfully, it's a fairly light week. Just have an essay to finish up. And it isn't due until Thursday, so I have a little time.” Giving him a smile and a shrug, you added on, “Besides, if I didn't come in, there wouldn't be anyone to come and fix whatever decided to have a fit this time around. I couldn't do that to my favorite theater.” A light chuckle came from him. The atmosphere lightened further, and you could get to work. Stuart had moved to check another film. The theater was slowly transitioning to digital but hadn't quite made the final change, so he was still very much needed. 

As you peeled apart the projector, the lively hum of machines surrounded you. It was comforting in a way. You could see why Stuart liked being back here, being able to work without interruption. That was of course on top of his love for film. The man in question soon returned. 

“So, where is it?” You asked without looking up. 

“Pardon?” He knew exactly what you were asking. The recommendations wouldn't come without you initiating, though, so it was the same song and dance whenever you came. Not that you minded in the least. It was easy to see that not a lot of people liked to give the man the time of day.

“What movies should I be watching next? For when I'm on break in two weeks.” You were looking forward to a little time off, having made sure you took vacation at the same time that you had a break from university. Silence reigned. But, it didn't last long. 

“You aren't going anywhere?” That was a surprise. Finally, your gaze lifted from where your fingers were loosening some of the more intricate parts of the old film projector. 

“I thought about it. But, it sort of felt like a waste of money. And, it's rare I get a break from both. Being lazy has a certain appeal to it.” A little heat came to your cheeks as you spoke. Stuart always seemed to work hard. It felt a little, well, almost embarrassing to admit to wanting to be lazy. 

“You've certainly earned a rest,” he offered gently. There was an eager smile that appeared, signaling that he was getting ready to go into one of his long winded explanations of what you should watch and why. There was no stopping the way that you responded in kind, actually eager to hear it. Really, coming in on your day off was worth it. 

[bronzetomatoes]

Sorry I would like a second opinion on a personal issue from people who had no involvement in the situation so. Sorta long post ahead

Ermm so there's this girl in my band class. And like at our school that means we've all been in the same class with the same 20-some people for both band and English for 2-3 years now, so we're a pretty close group as far as full high school classes go. But yeah there's this girl I've sorta known in passing the past couple years

When we got to school for the new year in September, this girl (gonna call her Alice, not her real name) had just come out as trans, started growing her hair out, was very skittish and socially awkward. Last year she had a friend group, this year none of them seemed to be talking to her. After chatting with us for a day in October, she asked if she could start hanging out with us at school more often. We all sorta went 👍 ofc you can

We really did not have anything in common, but we could tell she needed friends and like. It's fine, ofc, and our band teacher spoke to us privately about how great it was to see Alice have friends + the impact she could see it having on Alice.

After like a month or two, the early awkwardness and stilted conversations had... not gone away. But like I thought That's okay, being socially awkward isn't a crime, not everyone is good w that shit. We still very much did not have Any common interests, and honestly? We didn't even seem to enjoy each other's company that much, she just sorta hung around us bc she needed friends. We didn't find each other funny either, which sorry if that seems stupid but like thats kind of a big deal for me and my friends

One thing I started to notice was that she seemed... overly familiar? Like she started laying on pretty thick with flirting and sexual jokes in a way that kind of just fell flat. I kinda pinned it as social awkwardness + not taking hints, but my friends and I had known each other for YEARS before we started that shit, not. 3 months. And like it wouldn't have been a problem if Alice would like, stop when we asked her to.

On the one hand, I feel like some of my friends were a little harsh in the way they started icing her out, but on the other hand I had been fighting off a Bad Gut Feeling for months at that point and didn't much feel like going to bat for Alice? But anyway

I missed a lot of lunch hours for extracurriculars, which is when most of this shit goes down, so apparently Alice had kept on full sending it w the heavy flirting and sexual comments. Literally asked one of the more reserved guys if he was circumcised out of fucking no where. Asked one guy out, found out he had a gf, immediately moved onto another guy. Asked someone if his friend was single, guy said "no, but I don't think he's looking for anything rn," Alice replied "lmk if he gets better," kept making weird ass fucking jokes (including an incest joke about her REAL LIFE LITTLE BROTHER) until it was just like. This shit has gotta stop

And THEN. Alice's old friends told us that the reason they all fucking dropped her was bc she a) wouldn't quit it w invasive questions abt their sex lives (non-existent) (we're in high school band get real), b) went to someone's house to hang out and READ THEIR DIARY. And c) wrote. self-insert porn about herself and one of their friends and then showed it to them. ANYWAYYYYY we had had ENOUGHH but I feel really bad bc she really and truly got dropped by like 20 people all at once. And like some of us had a free period together so it was like we had been chatting for an hour a day from October to February and we all kinda just dropped her. But on the other hand what the actual fuck

And the thing is, we did give her a chance to apologize. We explained everything that had been making us uncomfortable and asked her to stop, and rather than, idk, deciding to stop hitting on all our friends, she tried to explain why she should be allowed to do it 😭😭 and like at that point I couldn't keep giving her the benefit of the doubt. It ain't misreading social cues if you're being told directly and you refuse to change your behaviour

This all went down like a couple weeks ago but I had to get it off my chest. Don't blame the band teacher or anything her heart is always in the right place but WOO BOY was it misguided 💀

[goldeneyedgirl]

12 Kisses: january: lingering, korean alice.

So I decided I'm going to try to fill one of these kiss prompts each month this year, each with a different one of my fic verses. They'll just be little warm up fics, and hopefully get me over this fic-writing block I've got. Of course, January's is late because I didn't decide to tackle this until three days ago. So you get two kiss fics this month.

Today, Korean Alice and her first meeting with Jasper. A little more world-building, and that first date from her point of view. I missed this verse, it's so different to what I normally write. I hope you enjoy!

twelve kisses. january: korean alice [ lingering ] a long, slow kiss filled with emotion & desire

Alice doesn’t know what she’s thinking, truly.

It started simply - most of her visions, she ignores. They leave her with the memory of a headache and information she can rarely use. And she’s almost always so tired that they can’t get through properly. Ratana and her people always forget that she needs food, water, and rest.

So when she sees it, just a glimpse, she has to grab it.

(How many days and how many nights had she wondered what it would be like to fall in love? For that one person to appear and just… love her. Like her. Care about her. A person who was hers. It was all she had wanted for such a very long time.)

Jasper Cullen is perfect. And the minute she sees him in person, she loves him. Everything about him. It’s worth everything she had to negotiate with Ratana in that moment. And when she sees him smile? Well, she’d pay double.

It takes almost nothing to get him to approach her. He studies her carefully, and for once she feels pretty and desirable and special. She tries to take care of her clothing, to tailor the things she finds and sew new things, but she also knows that no manner of clever sewing or embroidery can cover up how well-loved her clothing is. No tailoring can fix that she’s too thin, too small, for her age.

And he still approached her, his gaze unwavering. He’s so tall, and he moves like all the leading men in the black-and-white films she watches. Like he might be coming to sweep her off her feet.

She’s being ridiculous.

(Maybe she understands all those girls who fell for American soldiers during the war a little bit better right now. He’s perfect.)

It happens just the way she saw, the way he comes over and helps her down and starts speaking in English before attempting some stilted, formal Korean. She’s trying very hard not to blush, but she does giggle at his visceral relief when she answers him in English.

“Jasper Hale, ma’am,” he says. Jasper. It fits him perfectly.

And this is the moment. The one she saw.

“I’m Alice,” she says, a little breathlessly. “You call me Alice.”

“Alice,” he breathes, and it’s beautiful when he says it.

(She has a name. A name he gave her. It’s been eighty years, being known as ‘Child’ or ‘Girl’. Ratana has given her I.Ds and papers in the past with placeholder names that were never hers. The name her grandparents called her before they cast her out was that of the mother she killed, never her own. Not an affectionate memory, but a reminder of the pain and horror she caused. And maybe she should be sad or frustrated that it’s not a Korean name, that it’s an English name. But she cannot make herself care when it’s been bestowed upon her by the one that will love her best.)

“You’re not…” he begins and then stops, ducking his head before she can stop him. She’s not surprised that he’s already picked up that she’s not like him; the hummingbird heartbeat always gives her away - her eyes are dark enough that they pass as black; she works hard enough in the night hours that she has both the pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. But the heartbeat always gives her away.

“Apologies, that was rude,” Jasper says and she smiles at him, looping her arm around his.

“How about I answer your questions somewhere else?” She offers, more confident than she feels and almost flirtatious. She’s rather impressed with herself; she thought she’d be a stammering mess.

“If they can spare you, I’d be obliged,” he manages.

“For one night, they can.”

It’s the same rigmarole to get out of the market as it is to get in - Hala wiping his memories as they make the trek back to the centre of the city. She knows the deal that Alice made with Ratana, that this will not be the last mind-wipe that Jasper Hale has today.

But she doesn’t want to think about that yet, and lets Jasper escort her deeper into Busan.

There is no food in the market - the girls for sale are fed before it opens, and very few other attendees require human food. Sometimes Ratana will bring her food - she prefers Alice not dine on blood, though she’s never said why. So she’s oddly touched when Jasper takes her straight to the human night markets, to stands piled high with food, with smoke and heat filling the air. Somehow, she manages to find her appetite, and she’s amused at how closely he watches her as she eats.

He’s easy to talk to, and a gentleman - he guides her though the crowds protectively, his hand gently on her lower back. She knows more than one male in the markets that would take the opportunity to slip their hand underneath her shirt or down the back of her skirt, and she’s oddly proud Jasper hasn’t.

(She’s not sure that she’d be upset if he did…)

But the questions fly between them and she’s fascinated that he’s one of the vampires that fought of territory - it seems like a horrific way to spend decades, and she’s been manning a market stall since the 30s. Even more impressive is that he left it all and started anew, with a family that he speaks of with affection and a diet that has left his eyes a captivating, murky gold. He talks of travel and schooling and adventures that she’s only ever seen in film, and it sounds wonderful. He sounds wonderful.

And she talks about the markets and about what, who she is - she tries to gloss over her childhood, before Ratana found her, but he squeezes her hand as she rushes through that story as if he knows the pain that it causes her. She tells him about some of the wilder clients, the funnier moments in the market, to make him laugh. He has a wonderful laugh.

They end up in a park; too dark for humans, but perfect for them. He’s still holding her hand, as they weave between the trees and flower beds. She pauses for a second, to pluck a white flower from the ground - growing out of bounds of the garden bed, it will be cut away when the park maintenance staff spot it so she figures it’s okay to pick it.

She tucks it behind her ear and looks over at Jasper, who is looking at her with an expression she cannot decipher.

And then he kisses her.

Oh.

It’s heartbreakingly slow, his hand cupping her face as he rubs circles on her cheek with his thumb. She’s standing on her tip toes and it’s still not close enough. She’s pressing against him, her hands flat against his chest. His mouth moves against hers impossibly slowly, drawing her in and making her head swim. Maybe she sighs against him. It's the kind of kiss that feels like it belongs in a movie; but better, because watching it on the screen doesn't even come close to how it feels, how he feels.

(She doesn’t count any of the rough hands, faces mashes against hers in a moment of opportunity on rowdy nights at the market as experience. This singular perfect kiss is her first and only. It’s her life, her story, and she can write it exactly as she pleases.)

She feels so warm, even with the cool of his hands against her. She wishes that they were somewhere else, not in the middle of a park, wishes she had the perfect words to explain that she was already falling in love with him the moment she saw him walk towards her. Now she's done, she's fallen head over heals, and her heart is firmly and forever his.

(That she would not at all be upset if he slid one of his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.)

He only pulls away when she needs to breathe; as he steps backwards, her knees quiver and he’s quick to steady her.

She doesn't know what to say to him in that moment, at the way he's staring at her reverentially; the way he runs his thumb over her lips and bends down to kiss her again - softer, fast, just a graze against her that somehow feels impossibly intimate.

And for some reason, that's when she remembers her agreement. That she's Cinderella on the clock and as beautiful and perfect as this moment is, it cannot last forever.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says breathlessly as she makes up her mind, and he grins at her, a proper movie-star grin that makes her melt a little more. He tucks her in at his side, and they leave the park together, back into the streets of Busan towards her apartment.

(She wishes she could stay in the moment. Ratana gave her until four in the morning; and then he’ll forget and she’ll be alone again. But it’s only midnight - barely midnight - and there’s still four hours left of her own love story, of this perfect moment, and she’s going to savour every single one. If this is how her love story goes, well, she's going to make it everything she ever hoped for.)

[thelionheartedo3]

wip wednesday

ty for the tag @evilbunnyking <3

I've had very little free time to write this past uhh month, but I've chipped away at a fic that I feel sums up Ely's relationship with Rebecca or, more appropriately, the lack thereof

She lasts until she's able to pull off the forest path and onto the fire road, poor, little hatchback practically slamming into the dirt as she pulls over just enough to let anyone else who's dumb enough to drive down here through.

Ely's never been a pretty crier—it comes with the territory of being a redhead. Slightest provocation, her face goes as red as her hair. Habit compels her to cover her face as she sobs, frustrated tears leaving tracks down her splotchy cheeks.

Maybe she'll move, she thinks, between one hiccuped breath and the next. Go completely nuclear. Quit the station, move back to the city, see if that bar she worked at is still open and wants her back nine years later.

She probably remembers a few of the drinks she used to make.

She could at least remember a Jack and Coke.

There's a light tap on her passenger window that drags her out of her thoughts. She sniffles, wiping at her face with her sleeve as she looks over.

Nate's crouched next to the car, a look of pure, unadulterated concern on his face.

She swallows a sudsy breath, and hits the button to unlock the doors, looking away as he goes for the handle.

"I'm not apologizing," she says, before he's even climbed fully in.

She can see him shake his head in her peripheral, closing the car door. "I would not ask you to," he tells her, voice soft.

His hand reaches out, hesitant, and when she voices no protest, it smooths across her shoulder and back, settling in an abstract version of a half hug over the center console.

"I should apologize," he says.

She barks a laugh, still not looking at him. "Oh?"

"I knew it was not. . .good," he says. Stilted. Testing. "But I hadn't realized just how. . .tense your relationship was with Rebecca."

"What relationship?" Ely snips, but she looks away when he winces.

[showmey0urfangs]

WIP Wednesday Game: Pride and Prejudice AU 👉👈

Hi there! Thank you for asking. Here's a little snippet:

(sorry, it's a bit of a long one because I couldn't think of a natural place to cut off so you get the whole scene 😂):

Piano scene

Louis stood up from the card table and came up to stand behind Lestat. He stared mesmerized, at the way his long fingers elegant darted over the keys, playing the tune from of memory.

Lestat looked up at him and smiled, his blue eyes bright with mischievous excitement.

“You mean to frighten me, Mr du Lac, by coming in all your state to hear me?”

“I am well enough acquainted with you, Mr. de Lioncourt, to know I cannot frighten you even should I wish it. I merely wish to ascertain for myself that your talents are indeed equal to what you so often proclaim.”

They eyed each other warily for a beat, Lestat’s fingers never faltering from their deft playing. Louis broke his gaze off when he saw that Lady Sevraine had come to stand at the other side of Lestat, affectionately placing her elegant gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Tell, me Mr. du Lac, What was our Lestat like, in Hertfordshire? I certainly hope he made a good impression.”

“Come Sevraine, I’m right here. Surely you can bear to wait until I am out of earshot to gossip about me.”

“Hush you,” she chided him, playfully patting him on his blond head. “I want to hear what our friend here has to say.”

Louis was intrigued by the clear familiarity Lestat had with his mother’s friend, and how so very different Lestat seemed here, so much more at ease.

“Very well your grace, but prepare yourself for something very dreadful.”

Lestat’s fingers halted on the keys as he turned to fully gaze at Louis.

“The first time I saw him was at an Assembly, and he declared that the music was not up to his standard and refused to dance at all—even though gentlemen were scarce and several young ladies were eyeing him hopefully.”

“The music was indeed very dreadful,” Lestat defended. “Besides, I knew nobody beyond my own party.”

Louis smiled placidly, maintained his eyes on Lestat whose face had now colored slightly.

“If I recall, you had just been introduced to us all, and my cousin Lily had more than hinted that she would have liked to dance with you.”

Just then, Lady Sevraine was called back to the card game and she left the two of them alone again. Lestat resumed playing, his movement a little more stilted than before.

“I apologize if I offended your cousin Louis,” he said in a low voice. “I’m afraid I was not at my best that night, it had been quite a long journey.”

“It is not me you should apologize to Mr. de Lioncourt,” Louis said, refusing to slide into the familiarity of calling Lestat by his first name.

Lestat flinched slightly but nodded. “Very well.”

***

They remained at Rosings until very late at night, playing cards and dancing. Lestat asked Lily to dance three times as Sevraine played on the harp. Louis danced with Lady de Lioncourt, very nervous that he would inadvertently miss a step under her stern jugful eyes. Even Paul and Doris danced a few times, without much skill but with a lot of enthusiasm.

Afterwards, Lestat insisted on lending them a carriage to take them back to the cottage, no matter how much Louis protested there was no need for such a short distance. Lestat even personally walked them down into the courtyard, helping Lily into the carriage with utmost courtesy. As Louis was about to climb in after her Lestat took him by the arm and pulled him slightly aside.

“May I call on you tomorrow?" he asked. "There is a rather nice hiking trail in the woods that I believe you would like.”

He was gazing up at Louis with an uncharacteristic nervousness in his clear blue eyes, and Louis could do nothing else but nod in agreement.

***

Later that night, when Lily slipped into his room to have one of their customary late-night discussions, she confided that Lestat had taken her aside and apologized for his rejecting her at the assembly.

“He was so charming,” she said, smiling gleefully, “So very eager for me to have a good opinion of him. Had I not known better, I would have assumed he was courting me.” She gave Louis a meaningful look. “I think he must really like you, Louis, to go through all this trouble.”

Louis remained silent. He was not ready to disclose even to his most beloved cousin and closest confidante, the true extent of his intimacy with Mr. Lioncourt, nor the bitter rift that now existed between them.

It's still an initial draft so I may end up shifting things around on the edit, but let me know what you think.