#i don’t think i’ve said this on tumblr before but my eyes always gravitate to his crotch area

[sunglassesmish]

https://twitter.com/mullemaus23/status/1663283101940826113?s=46&t=vnyM781SZ3Azm8Yb-GisRA kay im hyperventilating

so you see-

i forgot what i was going to say

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[a-snow-decahedron]

Befriending the enemy

Versión en español: Leer en AO3 / Leer en Tumblr

Summary: After Alphys confesses her feelings towards Undyne, she realizes that while the truth is hard to hear, it is better to say it. Papyrus listens.

Set in a true pacifist route, on the way to meet up eveyone else in new home.

Words: 2335

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31130111

Undyne was a monster that always faced her problems head-on. Or so she thought. Feelings were never her strong suit. And that day left her with some complex feelings.

A human showed up in Snowdin during the morning, closing the Ruins' door behind them. They wore a striped shirt, like every other monster child, but their soul shone red with power: it was the last soul needed to break the barrier, and she was determined to capture them and be the hero that freed monsterkind. It wasn't about honor as much as it was about justice for all the pain that monsters had gone through for generations.

But it was just a kid, a thought insisted, and she repressed it. Duty calls, and she wouldn't step back. The Canine Unit in Snowdin forest tried to stop them, yet all of them were unable to capture the human. Undyne feared the worst, that this child had killed them, but every monster that had encountered the human so far said they were kind, and never hurt anyone. She was livid. She knew humans couldn't be trusted, they could turn your allies against you like in those animes Alphys had shown her. So her frustration grew as the day went by.

Papyrus and his brother were no exception to the rule. The tall skeleton reported to her on the way to Waterfall that he had let the human go, after befriending them. He tried to stop her, telling her that she didn't need to get their soul. All of this just confirmed in her mind why he could never be part of the royal guard. What is the human had not shown mercy? The idea repulsed her, but so did extending monsters' wait to reach the Surface. So despite her friend's words and the apparent pacifist attitude the human had, she didn't give up on her goal.

She encountered them a few times in Waterfall, followed closely by another kid. Were they friends? Oh, the nerve of that human, to get someone else to fight their battles. Her anger grew after every time they managed to scape her attacks. Until finally, the monster kid left to go home and she fought the human. Their resilience was astounding and they could dodge her attacks like they had seen it all before. Despite making their soul green, they found the chance to flee like a coward towards Hotland. In the end, she couldn't keep up with her armor. She didn't want to admit it, but the water that human had given her gave her strength to go home. A moment of weakness. She was just glad the child had decided to pity her.

At her house, she meditated about everything she'd seen. The truth was that she was exhausted, and not knowing how to deal with her thoughts, she started playing piano. A while later she heard a knock on the door and Papyrus walked in, as was expected, but he brought the human child along. Against her better judgement, she let them both in. The following events still replayed on her head. How could she go from trying to defeat her enemy to a hang out at her house? How did that go so horribly well and so horribly wrong at the same time? She didn't have any answers, but one thing was certain, that child had proved her expectations wrong, and had flipped her view on quite some things.

Undyne now sat on the green couch at the skeleton brother's house. And now her thoughts gravitated toawards yet another revelation. Alphys liked her. The same way she liked Alphys back. Saying the truth had been hard for her, that was obvious and the Waterfall monster could relate too. Undyne was a monster that always faced her problems head-on but feelings were never her strong suit. Another idea presented itself on her head. Sure she was hot-headed and impulsive, but after such an eventful day it was impossible not tot take some time to think and make sense of everything.

She suddenly heard the door hit the wall as Ppayrus made his way inside the house. Despite being all bones, his expression showed deep worry. "UNDYNE! YOU MUST COME WITH ME NOW!" He said, extending his hand.

"What's wrong, Papyrus? Did the punk call again? Are they lost?" She stood up in a moment, ready to follow the skeleton.

Papyrus shook his head "THE HUMAN IS ON THEIR WAY TO NEW HOME! BUT WE CAN'T LET THEM FACE ASGORE, WE MUST STOP THIS, MAYBE WE CAN CONVINCE THEM NOT TO FIGHT" He replied, some distressed slipping through his voice. "I CALLED ALPHYS AND MY BROTHER TOO, THEY WILL BE MEETING US AHEAD, BUT WE MUST HURRY"

Undyne didn't doubt for a second about how her friend knew that, so she followed Papyrus toawrds the door and they went to the Riverperson. who was fortunately waiting for passengers in Snowdin. They both sat and took the ride. After a few moments, Papyrus noted her silence, and asked "YOU SEEM QUIETER THAN USUAL."

She was about to shrug and brush it off with some excuse, but something else took over her and instead she said "Hey, Papyrus? I gotta tell you something."

"WHAT IS IT? ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT THE HUMAN AND THE KING? I ASSURE YOU WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS'S SKILLS AND YOUR STRENGTH WE WILL STOP THE CONFLICT BEFORE IT EVEN BEGINS"

"Well, yes, but i wanted to talk about something else..." What? We're really doing this Undyne? Oh darn it there is no way to stop now.

His eyesocket were staring right through her. "IF THIS IS ABOUT ALPHYS, I THINK OUR TRAINING NEEDS MORE T-"

"Fuhuhu, well, it's not exactly about her, that's still got my magic all shocked, but she got me thinking about some things..." Her gaze turned to the side, avoiding facing him. "Thing is, being honest isn't always easy, you know? I wasn't able to confess to Alphys on my own without the punk's help. She struggled with being sincere too. And maybe part of the truth hurt, I don't know if I can look at anime the same way again— But that's not the point!" Papyrus's mismatched eyesockets looked even more uneven when he raised his browbone, letting her continue. "I... have not been the most honest with you, and i want to put an end to it."

"BUT UNDYNE, YOU'VE SHOWN ME MORE SIDES OF YOURSELF THAN YOU SHOW MOST PEOPLE! NOT EVERYONE KNOWS YOUR PASSION FOR ALL SORTS OF MUSIC, OR HAS TRIED YOUR COOKING! AND CERTAINLY I AM HONORED TO BE YOUR TRUSTED FRIEND! SO WHAT IS MAKING YOU THINK THESE THINGS?" Undyne's soul sank like it had been turned blue. She took a breath, to give herself some extra time to plan her words.

"Dude, I... don't know how you'll take this."

"GO AHEAD, THE GREAT PAPYRUS KNOWS WELL WHAT TO DO IN DIFFICULT CONVERSATIONS"

She exhaled, no going back now: "I was never intending to let you in the Royal Guard."

His smile dropped, but before she could apologize, he simply asked "WAS I NOT SKILLED ENOUGH?"

"No, you... it's not about ability. Dude, you're one of the toughest monsters I've trained with, you can take blow after blow and still keep on fighting." She sighed. "But I thought you were too innocent and naive and—"

"WELL I SURE APPRECIATE THE COMPLIMENT, BUT I FAIL TO UNDERSTAND THE PROBLEM"

"You know the Royal Guard's goal was to capture a human and take their soul to King Asgore, right?" He nodded. "Right, but to do that we'd have to kill them, and humans would resist to that. Anyone would. Humans are powerful, and they can hurt many monsters trying to fight for their life. Some of them may beg for mercy, and trick us into trusting them only to betray us later."

"BUT THIS HUMAN IS NICE."

"Yeah, but we didn't know that when they showed up."

"SO WHAT?, EVERYONE HAS THE CAPACITY TO BE GOOD, I WOULD GIVE THEM THE CHANCE TO PROVE THEMSELVES."

"And that's the problem! They could take advantage of that! I don't want to see you being shattered into smiling pieces because of some enemy with bad intentions!"

"SO YOU THINK I SHOULD HAVE JUST KILLED THEM."

"It's the duty of the royal guard!" Undyne let out a sigh, feeling awful for the things she said.

Papyrus stared at her, empty sockets facing her one seeing eye. His thoughts, unclear. He stayed quiet longer than it was normal for him, but then he frowned and spoke. "UNDYNE, DO YOU THINK I CAN'T DEFEND MYSELF?"

She considered the question, then shook her head. "I don't know... I just don't want you to get hurt. That someone comes and crashes your hopes and betrays you. The Royal Guard must never hesitate. The hopes and dreams of monsters depend on us."

"DO YOU THINK THE HUMAN HAS WISHES TOO?"

"What? Of course I do! Well... I do, now that I've seen how determined they are, and their good heart."

"THEN WOULDN'T IT BE UNFAIR TO DESTROY THEM LIKE THAT?"

"But what if other humans are evil?"

"WHAT IF THEY'RE NOT? I'M SURE YOUR EXECTATIONS HAVE BEEN PROVEN WRONG LATELY. MINE HAVE. I NEVER THOUGHT SOMEONE COULD SHARE MY PASSION FOR PUZZLES AND HOMECOOKED FOOD AS SINCERELY AS THAT HUMAN." Undyne raised an eyebrow, curious about the skeleton's reasoning. He kept going "I HAVE MADE A NEW FRIEND BY BEING BRAVE AND OPEN TO SEE WHO THEY REALLY ARE. AND NOW THAT I KNOW WHAT IS AT STAKE I CANNOT LET THE VIOLENCE HAPPEN AGAINST THEM OR ANYONE."

"I see what you mean, but we can't let then just leave, it's their life, at the cost of the freedom of our kind. And ensuring we do that for monsters is what is needed to be part of the guard."

"THEN YOU SHOULDN'T BE A PART OF THE GUARD ANYMORE EITHER."

His words hit her like the hardest walls of the caverns. There, that's the issue that had plagued her mind all afternoon. It surprised her how the topic had gone from being sincere to Papyrus about her expectations, to talking about the right thing to do. The worst part is that he was right. How could she, the Captain of the Guard, give up on her duty? Shouldn't she set an example? But now the thoght of going after the human kid just made the magic within her whirl uncomfortably. She could feel the humid atmosphere of the Waterfall tunnels all around her.

"I DID NOT MEAN TO BE RUDE, UNDYNE." Papyrus hesitated on his next words, but she interrupted him.

"No, you're right after all. I befriended the enemy."

"AND THEY TURNED OUT TO BE DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXPECTED." She nodded.

"UNDYNE. I KNOW WHO I KNOW, AND I KNOW YOU KNOW WHO YOU KNOW. WELL...." He cleared his non-existent throat, then resumed his speech. "TO PUT IT IN BETTER WORDS, THERE ARE PEOPLE WE KNOW WELL. BUT IT'S BECAUSE WE GAVE THEM THE CHANCE, AND THEY USED IT TO BE GOOD"

Then he pointed at her, and kept going. "YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE DOING THE RIGHT THING, TAKING THEIR SOUL. BUT THAT'S NOT THE CASE ANYMORE, DON'T YOU SEE? WE'RE GOING STRAIGHT TO THE KING'S CASTLE TO STOP THIS NONSENSE!"

Undyne was atypically silent after his words. Who was this guy? Did he always put that much thouught on things? Had she misjudged him? "Woah Papyrus, you really are sure about this. But you're right, i'm on board with you now." She grinned, showing all her teeth "I gotta say, you impress me, can't believe how i changed in a single day thanks to your actions."

"THANK YOU, I AM A SKELETON THAT LIVES TO SURPASS ANY GIVEN STANDARD." He wore his usual grin, and his eyes shone with pride.

"That's the guy I know!" She was getting close to tackle him in a hug when the Riverperson turned and told them they arrived to their destination.

"Come again sometime, tra la la..." Undyne pulled some coins from her pocket and gave them to the monster as tips. They didn´t charge for the ride, but any compensation was more than appreciated.

"NOW LET'S HEAD TO THE ELEVATORS, THE SOONER WE GET OUT OF HOTLAND THE SOONER WE WILL ARRIVE!"

"Hey, Papyrus?" He turned around to face Undyne as she walked to reach him. "Thank you."

"WHAT FOR?"

"For giving us the chance to do the right thing." While she pressed the button to call the elevator she asked: "Hey, one last thing, how do you... feel about what i told you?"

"WELL, IT DOES PUT OUR PREVIOUS ONE-ON-ONE TRAINING IN A NEW LIGHT, FOR SURE" He lifted his gloved hand, to wait for a moment, as he said the next words: "BUT I APPRECIATE KNOWING THE TRUTH, AND NOW WE CAN FORGET THE AWKWARD MOMENT AS IF IT NEVER HAPPENED, LIKE THE GOOD FRIEND I AM"

"Don't you feel bad about it?"

"WELL, I CAN'T SAY I DON'T, BUT I FORGIVE YOU, AS LONG AS WE SAY THE TRUTH TO EACH OTHER FROM NOW ON"

"Papyrus, you're something else." They both laughed as they got off the elevator.

"UNDYNE, I HAVE ONE LAST QUESTION" The skeleton fidgeted with his gloves, but a smirk was forming on his face. "IF THE ROYAL GUARD STOPS BEING ABOUT HUNTING HUMANS, DO YOU THINK ASGORE COULD GIVE ME A POSITION IN THE GUARD?"

"Fuhuhuhu, you bet! But first we have to make sure he and the punk don't kill each other because of some old unfair conflict." And with that said, they both sprinted on their path to the MTT resort.

Undyne was a monster that always faced her problems head-on. Or so she thought. Feelings were never her strong suit. But friends could alwyas subvert her expectations and be there to support her in those moments of doubt.

[bitch-butter]

Little bit of a rivers prequel exploration. I've mentioned this scene a few times in the series, but it's not really my intention to do anything that takes place before part one, so this was just going to like slowly asphyxiate in my drafts unless I released it lol

She's going to live on Tumblr unless I somehow decide I want to do more of Whatever This Is in the future, but since it takes place before the series you don't need to have read the other parts which is sexy.

Read More for like 3k of Gay Shit~

* * *

Hay wasn’t the smell that Joe would have gravitated to normally. The mulchy wetness in combination with the dry and yeasty texture always made him think of bugs, and this feeling was not a welcome one when forced to be bedded down on a big pile of the stuff. Each breath full of the smell was nearly enough to make him gag.

Still, beat sleeping outside. And the smell was strong enough to cancel out his own smell, which, he knows from experience, isn’t a walk in the park right now either. 

He had settled into a comfortable enough doze by the time his mind caught onto the frankly annoying fucking snoring emanating from the corner of the barn. Cracking his eyes open, he glared into the corner where a Hoobler shape slump is curled up against the wall, snoring away into the dark with an unfamiliar body sprawled on the ground a few feet away, seeming unperturbed.

One fucking night is all he’s asking for. Fuck.

Pulling in an aggravated breath, Joe sat up from his hay-bed, contemplating whether or not to try and ignore the sound or move out completely to a quieter spot. He glanced towards the door of the barn, where clear moonlight cut across the ground to illuminate the dry, if a hint cold, night beyond. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to sleep out tonight if he had to, he supposed. 

He’s taking in the details of the scene outside when he spots what looks to be the toe of a boot popping out from beside the doorway. For a moment his heart picks up, hand moving to grasp onto his rifle, but the boot doesn’t move, just remains planted solidly in the dirt. The longer he looks, though, the more he makes out a calf, leading to a body sitting against the wall outside.

It’s curiosity more than anything that brings him to his feet. What kind of guy doesn’t fucking drop the second he gets an opportunity? 

Of course it’s Webster.

He doesn’t know why the realization brings a smile to his face. Why the sight of the other man leaning up against the barn, legs bent and beaten up notebook in his lap, makes him feel oddly alive. He doesn’t even know Webster that well, only spoken to him one-on-one maybe a handful of times at most, and definitely doesn’t know him as well as he knows some of the other guys. 

But still, he feels light. Light enough to step outside and look down in amusement at Webster, who in turn looks up at Joe in bewilderment. “Trouble sleeping in the dirt, Web?”

Bewilderment turns critical as Web frowns, eyes falling back down to his book as he continues writing. “Not tired.”

Snickering, Joe stepped around Web to let his own back hit the barn, sliding down to slouch beside the other man. “Always knew there was something wrong with you.”

He’s digging for his smokes in his pocket when he realizes that Web’s hand has stilled, and that the other man is looking aside at him with an inscrutable expression, eyes glancing over Joe’s face in the near-dark. “What?” he asked, an edge of anxiety in his voice. 

Web’s face clears in an instant. “Nothing,” he sighed, turning back to his book. Even in the shadows Joe can see the tips of his ears are red. 

“Right,” Joe nods disbelievingly, holding out his pack in an attempt to dispel the strange air surrounding them. Web takes one gratefully, mumbling a thanks as Joe placed one between his lips, holding his lighter up between them. They bend in towards each other, close enough that Joe can smell Web; a dirty, grass-like smell with an undercurrent of that same sweat all the guys have now. 

Better than hay, he thinks as Web draws back with his cigarette lit, before snapping the lighter closed and smoking in silence for a few moments. He finds his eyes drawn ceaselessly to Web’s pale hand as it moves across the page, turns to the next, and continues on. Web has good hands, he thinks to himself, before blinking the thought away. 

Doesn’t mean he stops looking, though.

“What are you writing about?” he asks softly, voice creaking a bit.

Web looks at him, face more open as he sighs out a stream of smoke. “Eindhoven.”

“Got a dame you want to remember, huh?”

Web huffs a small laugh. “No,” he takes another pull on his smoke, breathing deep and exhaling steadily. “I just don’t want to forget what it was like. How it felt.” 

Joe smiled quizzically. “Writing a book or something?”

“I don’t know,” Web replies, and it’s such an obvious lie Joe can’t help but laugh. This earns him a withering glare. “Even if I was, why do you care, Liebgott?”

“I don’t,” Joe bites, and it’s such an obvious lie of his own that Web laughs at him. “Guess I’m having trouble imagining anybody wanting to read about you.”

Web scowled at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be just about me, that’s not the point.”

“So you are writing a book?” Joe grinned, bringing his dying cigarette back to his lips. 

Mouth opening and then closing just to open again, Web looks at Joe in bare-faced annoyance. “You...” he trailed, seemingly having trouble finding the exact right word to express how irritated he was.

“You’re going to catch flies, buddy,” Joe smirked, grinding the butt of his smoke in the dirt and almost snickering as Web’s lips clamped shut. “Anyway, don’t count your chickens, Webster. War ain’t over yet and I doubt anything you replacements have to say would be worth a damn.”

This snaps Web out of whatever annoyance induced fugue state he was entering. “I’m not a fucking replacement, Liebgott,” he snapped, eyes glinting at Joe’s in the moonlight. “I was in Normandy, same as you. And even if I hadn’t been, what gives you the right to treat me or any of the other guys like that?”

Scoffing, Joe found himself toeing the line between being amused at Web’s reaction and finding himself somehow actually getting hot. “Way I see it I get to talk to you or any of the other guys however I want,” he said, meeting Web’s eyes with no small degree of challenge. “Seeing as I was here from the beginning and all of you are just showing up to chew on the bones.”

Web stares at him for a moment, his pale face unguarded and awash with surprised pain. “So, what then? Babe isn’t Easy to you? I’m not Easy to you?”

“Babe proved himself.”

A sharp “Ha!” stung in Joe’s face as Web’s head tilted back momentarily, before the other man levelled him with a skeptical look. “You’re so full of shit that you don’t even realize you are, Liebgott.”

Joe shook his head, unsure of why the back of his neck was heating so rapidly. “Keep telling yourself that, Webster. Fact is, what you do out there’s going to matter more than whatever bullshit you’re scribbling in your diary.”

Web nodded mockingly. “Alright, Joe, so I just need to earn the approval of who? You?”

It’s said so sneeringly that Joe can’t help but be nasty back. “Eh, we’ll see if you make it back.”

The hum Web emits might be mistaken for a tease, but Joe can see the lines drawn on the other man’s face as he shoots his eyes down to the ground. “Right,” he nods, swiftly standing and grabbing his pack from the ground beside him, crushing his smoke under his boot. “I’ll take it into consideration,” he says, shooting Joe a dark look over his shoulder. “‘Night.”

Joe blinks and Web is striding away, almost in the space of a breath. “Sleeping outside is for suckers!” he calls.

“Fuck you!” Web called back, casual and unaffected as anything, blue eyes glancing over his shoulder and back at Joe. They shot fire at him, and Joe all of a sudden feels as though he’s been struck by lightning, heat zig-zagging from his head all the way down through his bones. 

Inexplicably, he wants more of it.

As fast as Web was disappearing into the dark and the trees of the orchard beyond Joe is scrambling up, nearly running just to catch up with him. He settles at Web’s side as though they had not just devolved into verbal fisticuffs a few moments prior, and gleans some pleasure from the clearly agitated face the other man gives him as they continue moving along side by side.

“Yes?” Web prompts impatiently.

“What?” 

He holds back a smile at the roll of Web’s eyes. “What do you want, Joe?”

Joe has to scoff, shaking his head in the splintering shadows the darkened trees cast over them. “Like I’d want a goddamn thing from you, Web.”

The chuckle that greets him catches him slightly off guard, and he finds himself glancing back at the other man’s dark profile, the smile turning up the edges of Web’s full lips -

He shakes his head. 

“I don’t think you actually know what you want,” Web said teasingly, voice low in the quiet of the night, eyes darting over to catch onto Joe’s like hooks. “If you did you wouldn’t be following me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe challenged, eyes still caught up in the knowing gleam of Web’s even as he tried in vain to gather the strength to break the connection. 

“You don’t know?” Web asked obliquely, an air of casual imperiousness settling over his words like a heavy fog.

All of a sudden they’re stopped in the dark, trees sprouted up all around them in a pattern that, were it light out, might have been effortlessly beautiful, but in the dark gave the distinct impression of a cage surrounding them, stars glimmering beyond the branches above like shattered glass. But he can see Web in uncomfortable clarity, stood before him with his eyes looking down on Joe like he knows something, like he has a secret that he stole away in the fucking dark of the night, and damn it Joe wants it back. 

“I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do,” he utters in what he intended to resemble a growl, but comes out sounding much more like a rasp. 

“Oh, really?” 

He steps into Web’s space, expecting Web to do what any other guy would have done and take a step back, and is met instead with Web’s unflinching conceit. With this added proximity he finds himself swallowing down some unnamable wave that rushes up through his body and threatens to spill out of him and straight onto Web, and in the dark he can feel his neck flushing.

If he can see Web in the dark then no doubt Web can see him right back.

He does, because his eyes move effortlessly from amusement, to annoyance, to resignation. “You don’t know,” he says definitively, and Joe can almost feel the words moving through the air between them.

Web says this as though it’s supposed to end the matter, break the connection, and yet if anything Joe can feel him moving in even closer, and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps him rooted to his spot. “What are you doing?” he murmurs, eyes moving down along the planes of Web’s pale face, drawn like a magnet to the sight of the other man’s lips, which are pink, and parted, and -

“What am I doing?” Web whispered back, sounding almost as though he was talking to himself, but their faces hovered close to each other in the dark for too long for him to not know what he’s doing, and the way his eyes aren’t on Joe’s eyes but lower, lower -

“I…” Web trails away in the second before suddenly their lips are meeting. And Joe knows he didn’t move, and he didn’t feel Web move, but they’re together, they’re connected, their mouths are moving against each other as soft as fucking clouds and their noses nudge and Joe’s neck is hot and it feels perfect, it feels like heaven to kiss Web, he’s kissing Webster - 

Reality shoots back into him like the sear of a bullet to the head, and as fast as their lips meet he’s shoving Web away. His hands meet Web’s shoulders roughly, pushing him with strength that he almost didn’t know he had in him, and where the fuck was this side of him back in Toccoa?

But he only gets to relish the gasp of air back into his body for a moment, as his forceful push sends Web careening back, feet tripping backwards over the knobby roots of the trees surrounding them, and he hits the ground hard. 

“Oh, shit,” he spits, immediately moving to narrow the space between them yet again, dropping to his knees beside Web’s downed form. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, are you alright?”

For his part, Web looks a little dazed by the quick pivots of Joe’s mood in just the last few seconds, and blinks rapidly in the shadows before coughing. “You’re like a fucking child, Christ.”

“Hey,” Joe mutters, flush deepening with embarrassment, with confusion. 

Web’s eyes are on him again, and he only just keeps himself from shrinking back because where he had anticipated the usual swell of annoyance or of, please, anger, Web appears almost hesitant and...what? Fearful? His gaze moves over Joe’s face quickly, as though measuring every line, every angle, searching for something.

“What?” Joe croaks. “You scared?”

Swallowing heavily, the other man quirks a disbelieving eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I -” he starts, before abruptly halting. It’s a lie, he is afraid. But not of Web, who’s still looking at Joe like he half believes Joe’s going to clobber him, but of himself. He’s never done anything like that before, never even allowed himself to linger on the thought of it for longer than the space of one thought between another. Certainly he hadn’t ever drawn Web into those fleeting moments. Well, not in a traditional way at least.

If he palmed his cock and saw Web’s hands, or the curve of his jaw, then that’s nobody’s business. He thinks about a lot of things.

“No,” he settles.

Web doesn’t look like he quite believes him, if the distressed curve of his lips is anything to go by, and Joe reaches out to settle a hand on his neck just to see the way his eyes widen. He swallows, feeling a shiver pass through him at this simple, voluntary touch, and before he knows it he’s smiling, and at the sight of his smile Web is smiling back. And if he’s been paying special attention to parts of Web lately his smile hasn’t been one.

It is now.

“Alright,” Joe whispers through half of a chuckle, shaking his head. “Can I kiss you again?”

Smile melting from relief to happiness, Web looks as though he’d do just about anything Joe asked him to, but he manages to huff a tiny laugh first. “Are you going to push me again?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe tugged at his light hold on Web’s neck, blood heating at the way the other man’s eyes fluttered. “No.”

Shifting up from where he’d been braced back on his arms, Web reached out to take gentle hold of either side of Joe’s face, one hand combing back through his dirty hair. “Then yes,” he nodded. “Yes, please.”

This time they pull each other into the kiss, their lips meeting again just as softly as before, slotting together with an ease that felt almost unnatural with disuse. His hand rubbed clumsily at the skin of Web’s neck, easing himself back into the rhythm of kissing. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t kissed anyone since Georgia, but now he’s kissing a man on top of that, and the combination of sensations has him shuddering and hardening in his pants even before he feels Web’s tongue gently asking permission into his mouth. 

His mouth falls open with the slightest pull to his hair, and he welcomes the other man’s tongue with a grace he honestly feels he should be lauded for. He’s been with some forthcoming dames, to be sure, but none of them have felt this strong or as sure in his arms, letting Joe take and taking Joe right back. It’s something he could easily get addicted to, he thinks, as his tongue presses in to play over Web’s and he firmly wraps his other arm around the other man’s waist.

Web’s arms wrapping around his neck are overwhelming at first, before he feels their bodies, pressed together, easing back to rest on the dark, mossy, ground. They settle side by side, facing each other, legs fumbling and maneuvering around until Web has one leg thrown easily over Joe’s hip and Joe has one knee pressed steadily between the spread of Web’s thighs.

They split apart at the first accidental nudge of their crotches against one another, Web gasping and Joe hissing, before Web begins gently kissing down along his jaw.

“You taste like olives, a bit,” Joe said hoarsely, catching his breath as though he just ran up Currahee.

“Oh, sorry,” Web apologized, glancing back up at Joe’s face with a furrowed brow.

Joe shook his head, pressing a kiss just off Web’s lips. “I like olives,” he rebuffed, pulling their mouths back together in a smacking kiss. “Fuck,” he gasped softly, pressing in to kiss along Web’s neck beside his ear. “You done this before?”

Web breathed out a little tremble, smoothing his hand up Joe’s back. “Kissed a man?”

“Yeah,” Joe rasped, swallowing heavily as his hips rolled against Web’s own, lazy but with intention.

The nod of the other man’s head draws him out of his fascination with Web’s neck, and he finds himself pressing an exhilarated kiss against Web’s cheek as he speaks. “Yes,” he admits in a whisper. “Not- ah, not many, but yes, I -”

He’s laying another, harder kiss against Web’s lips at the self-conscious wobble of the words, his tongue sweeping through Web’s mouth as though to gather them and take them back into himself. Groaning as the leg Web had thrown over him tightened, bringing them almost fully flush, he brought one hand down to grasp tightly at the meaty flesh of the other man’s thigh, pulling it gently upwards and had to smile at the pleased hum that rattled around Web’s body.

“Have you?” Web asked gently.

Joe shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” Web murmured, pulling in a deep breath at the steady roll of Joe’s hips against his own, head falling back against the darkened soil and baring his neck for Joe, who immediately resumed kissing along its length. “Lieb...Lieb…” he breathed, almost absentmindedly as Joe realized exactly how much he enjoyed when Web said his name. “Joe...we should- we should pump the breaks a bit.”

Pulling his face from the hot expanse of Web’s neck, Joe frowned down at him. “What?”

“No, I -” Web swallowed, giving his head a clearing shake and blinking back towards Joe with a little more clarity. “I like it, I like it a lot, I’d just rather do this on the other side of tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

The heat still pulsing through his veins screamed its discontent, but Joe reluctantly acknowledged that wherever this interaction was heading was now paused for the time being.

Figures, Web looks the part of a fucking tease, after all.

“Alright,” he muttered, releasing Web’s thigh with no small degree of bitterness, letting Web ease himself back just enough for Joe to feel distinctly burned. He sat up with a gently heating face, mindful to keep himself angled away enough that Web wouldn’t be able to see it, and looked around the orchard surrounding them, searching out anything to anchor his eyes to so that he didn’t have to think about Web’s lip, his legs, his eyes in the dark -

Eyes that meet his own once more, his chin caught gently in the other man’s warm palm as Web turned his face back. Web, at the very least, seems just as put out at stopping as he does, and for a moment he wants to be an asshole, wants to fight, but can’t bring his mouth to do anything but fall open, breathe.

“Can I?” Web asked quietly.

Joe could only nod.

The kiss is as light as a feather, whispering across his lips like dust settling, and he hums into the feeling and, suddenly, feels at peace. He runs one hand through Web’s hair, smoothing it, and gathers up the heat from the other man’s neck in the palm of his hand, bringing it back to himself like he had stolen his secret back from where Web had hidden it.

He pulls back softly, face still angled into Web’s sphere. “See you on the other side, huh?”

Web sighed, nose brushing Joe’s own, and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to look teasingly back at him. 

“Arschloch,” he drawled, pushing Joe back with a soft touch to the base of his neck before standing, brushing dirt from his pants, and taking off into the darkness of the orchard without a glance back at Joe.

Joe watches him go, seeing for the first time the length of his limbs, the curve of his ass, and allows himself to want. He, as fast as lightning, very badly wants to find a patch of darkness to crowd him into tomorrow night.

If Web makes it back. If they both do.

Without a second thought, he’s up and following Web into the dark, ignorant and uncaring of their destination. 

[nade2308]

For the Drabble thingy

5 Bruised - Jack Dalton

No pressure though

I think Nade and the concept of a drabble aren't on the same planet. I finished the thing. Hope you like this @starryhc. As for the inspiration for this story, awhile back I saw a post on Tumblr where there was a deleted scene from the 1x01 script where Jack worked as a stunt double on a movie set and we are blaming this fic on my dream brain requesting this as the reason for the bruises. Hope it's what you had in mind when you asked, Starry . The "drabble" is under the cut.

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well. 

(Next time, I'm asking for Boze and his special make up). 

It had been two months since they saw each other last. And Jack didn't know how he went two months without contact. But it was what Mac asked of him. Some time to rest and reflect. And Jack had so many objections to that... but he swallowed them and agreed. What else there was to be done? His kid needed time, and contrary to popular opinion, Jack wasn't going to push and hover. He knew when to back down when he wasn't needed. 

The ugly doubts reared their heads as soon as they touched down in the States, though. Why was Mac asking for some time to himself? He never did before, why now? Mac was also never been shot within an inch of his life and his girlfriend was killed in the same night so Jack reasoned with that. He knew about people and having to start over when they had a brush with death and some decisions they made in the aftermath of their near-death experience. Jack just learned to deal with it. As always. When Mac called him out of the blue at 1am and asked if he could come over, Jack was ecstatic to say in the least. He didn't even stop to think of the reason. Maybe Mac wasn't still coming back from his reflection phase and it was just something he needed Jack to do. 

Whatever it was, in hindsight he should have realized that Mac would notice. And he did. 

"Jack. What happened?" 

"Eh, it's nothing. Just... perks of the job is all." 

Jack tried for a smile, but it fell flat. 

"What job? Jack, were you in the field without me?" 

The question slammed like a freight train into Jack and he had to actually grab something to steady himself, which turned out to be Mac's forearm.  

"Whoa, Jack, easy there." 

The grip he had on Mac was strong and through the fog in his head Jack was thinking how it'd leave a bruise, the kid bruised so easily he was always having these small bruises from banging himself on doorknobs and table edges. But now these bruises were going to be from Jack, because Jack wasn't able to keep himself steady another way, and that was when Mac appeared in his line of sight and Jack realized he wasn't breathing right.  

"Jack, you've got to breathe. Just, follow my lead, okay?" 

Jack tried to nod, but he couldn't, he was so far gone in the panic that all he could do was squeeze Mac's arm harder. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, the phantom pain at the back of his head, the nasty concussion it left in its wake. 

He watched as Mac winced when he took a deep breath and suddenly Jack wasn't in his apartment, but at the edge of the lake, performing CPR on his partner, oh God, it's so cold... 

...

When Jack next came to, he was lying on his couch. He had no idea how he got there, but he realized Mac's thigh was under his head and he jumped with a startle. Then promptly fell back to the softness of his partner's body because his body seized in pain. The actor on that set that insisted on doing his own stunts did a number on him. His bruises had bruises. 

And judging by the way he stilled and didn't breathe for a few seconds, and Mac's gasp, Mac definitely noticed. 

"I'm going to assume that that did not come from a mission." 

"You know I'm off rota until you are back to the field, hoss. I ain't goin' out there unless it's with you. We had a deal, remember?" 

"I'm sorry. Sorry I shut you out." 

"It's okay. You needed time. I get it."

"I shouldn't have." 

"No hard feelings."

"I feel like you are hurt because I wasn't there to stop you from doing whatever reckless thing you did. Jack." 

"I was a stunt double on a movie set. Thank God tonight was the final scene and now I can rest." 

Jack groaned and any other time he'd be embarrassed that he buried his head in Mac's thigh to hide, but he was tired, hurting and if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he had a panic attack, which in his books was definitely something to warrant that kind of behavior. 

Besides, Mac could always kick him if he didn't want that.

"Where are you hurt?" Mac's small voice asked and Jack wanted to deflect, but he could detect the hint of worry in the kid's voice so he decided to be honest. 

"Where am I not hurt is the question you should be asking. That little punk ass kid that insists on filming his own stunts that we worked with did a number on me. I think I even have a bruise on my butt, dude." 

Mac chuckled above him and Jack fist pumped on the inside. He was carefully maneuvered into a sitting position next and - yep, that was definitely a big bruise on his butt. 

"Let me see?" 

Mac was asking him to see the bruises, that much was clear. And his voice brooked no arguments so Jack took off his t-shirt and realized just how stiff his shoulders were. 

God, I am getting old. 

Jack let Mac take his fill, he didn't have to see the way he looked to know he suffered a beating. He felt every bruise and every pull on the skin. If he was being honest... it kinda felt like he got what he deserved after what he let happen to Mac and Nikki in Italy. Finding Mac floating in lake Como was one of his worst nightmares come true. 

Cold fingers touched his skin and he recoiled, before he realized it was Mac and then he forced himself to relax. Mac needed to make sure that he was okay, and Jack was going to let him. 

"Jesus, Jack, this is a beating, not a stunt." 

"You should see the other guy." 

"Jack." 

"It's okay, Mac. I've had worse." 

"It doesn't make this hurt any less. C'mon, let's get you to bed. I'll get you some ice." 

Jack wanted to protest, how he was going to take care of himself on his own, but Mac needed to see to it that Jack was going to be okay and Jack was going to let him. 

"Okay." 

Mac, true to his word, settled him into bed and brought ice packs that he MacGyvered into sticking around so as to none of them should hold them in the hurt places. Jack groaned as the cold from the ice seeped into the bruises, but after a while it became a background sensation and he relaxed. 

"Thanks, Mac." 

"Don't mention it." 

They sat in silence for a few moments but Jack needed to know. 

"Mac, why are you here? Not that I don't want you here, I'm more than happy to have you here."

"I realized that I was hurting myself and you by keeping a distance. I was caught in the anger and grief about what happened with Nikki and me... being shot. On your watch. I realized that you are pretty much beating yourself up over what happened and decided to stop some of that train of that. 

"What I didn't anticipate is you literally beating yourself up. Now that's some quality punishment for things you are not guilty of." 

Jack didn't dare look up at Mac, it was enough that Mac knew what Jack was doing. 

Talk about self destruction... him and Mac had a lot in common in that department.

"It wasn't your fault. I should have said that before." 

"It's-"

"God help me if you say "it's okay". It's not, Jack. I pushed you away. It was as if I was telling you that you pulled the trigger." 

Jack winced. Was this kid going to expose all his inner thoughts tonight? 

"Sorry, that didn't come out right. Listen, Jack, I'm sorry. It wasn't okay that I pushed you away. It shouldn't be okay that you accept the guilt so easily. You were hurt, too. Remember?" 

Jack nodded. 

"I'm sorry, too." 

They were both dealing with a loss of a friend (lover in Mac's case) and what happened in Italy in different ways. But it looked like they weren't going to do it each by themselves after tonight. 

"Can I stay?" 

Jack was brought out of his musings and looked at Mac. Really looked at him. The kid looked pale, his cheeks gaunt and he was clutching his left shoulder. 

"Huh?" 

"Can I stay? I'm... My shoulder is hurting and I have some of my things here so... well I should probably text Bozer and tell him I'm-" 

"Of course you can stay." 

"Great, uh... let me just go and grab my phone, I left it on the table. And I'll take these now."

Jack shuddered as Mac removed the ice packs, now melted. 

"I'll get you a shirt." 

A moment later Mac left a shirt on the bed as he went to presumably text Bozer. And Jack smiled when he saw it was one of his old Army t-shirts, loose and comfy. Jack changed into a loose pair of sweatpants and got under the covers, careful not to press too much on the worst bruises. He was going to be sore in the morning. 

Mac re-entered Jack's room and Jack could tell he wanted to say something, but was kinda frozen in the middle of the room.

He raised the covers and tapped on the other half of the bed. 

"C'mere, hoss. Let's get some sleep." 

"I can... I can sleep in the guest room? I could roll over and hurt you, you know how I can get." 

"Nonsense. Come in here." 

"Okay." 

"I think we both need this, so it's a win-win situation." 

Mac smiled and as he settled in, he gravitated towards Jack that pulled him to his side. 

"I'm so sorry I worried you earlier." Jack could feel the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. 

"It's okay, Jack. I'm just glad I was around." 

Jack nodded in agreement and closed his eyes. They could deal with everything else in the morning. He was wiped.  

"Good night, Mac." 

"Good night, Jack." 

[milknette]

day 31 - dealer’s choice (christmas)

i just wanna keep on waiting, underneath the mistletoe.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

LADYBUG is the only one he's excited to see again.

It's understandable though, since he hadn't wanted to go to the Christmas party in the first place. As his father was busy planning for his trip abroad, it had fallen upon Adrien to spend time and speak with adults who really only cared about him because of his family's wealth and stature.

They're all sickly-sweet and overly-kind to him, though it's intensely clear that if he were anything other than an Agreste, they'd never even give him the time of day.

(It's exhausting to spend time with people who don't even really see you, after all.)

The last straw, however, is when he speaks with a particularly snooty lady who corners him to talk about fashion. The conversation is halfway decent, until she brings up the feathered hat in Gabriel Agreste's newest collection— one she says is, verbatim, "the worst thing she's ever seen featured in a runway," and that "it was clear a high schooler was the one who made it."

Adrien surprises both himself and the lady when he answers back.

"Actually," he starts. "That hat is an inspired and unique work that even my father was in awe of. She may only be a high schooler, but her sense of fashion and style has grown so far past that." Adrien looks at his conversational partner's outfit, then pauses. "And that's one thing about her that… not everyone can say about themselves."

The woman splutters, mutters a few words about disrespect and how his father will hear about this, as she almost stomps away from him.

It's weird that he doesn't feel that bad about it.

"You're going to get in so much trouble for that," someone suddenly speaks up, hands haughtily folded in front of her chest. Beside her is another girl, who stands much more calmly but holds the same level of intimidation.

"That was in poor character for you Adrien," she steps in, eyes still the slightest bit wider from surprise. "I had never expected such behavior to come from you," she continues, then slightly tilts her head to her partner. "I mean, I'd expect it from Chloé, but I thought you'd be able to control yourself better."

Ignoring the indignant 'hey!' from the blonde, Kagami looks at him in worry. "What did she say to you?"

"Just… she said something wrong," he finally replies. "And I corrected her."

"We're not here to correct people, Adrikins," Chloé points out. "We're here to listen and agree and make sure they still want to work with our parents."

Adrien sighs. She's right.

"It's not too late to apologize," Kagami says. "We cannot be any less than the perfect children anyone expects of us."

A brief silence encompasses the three, as the weight of the words crush upon them. It isn't easy being in their position; to always have to watch their behavior, growing up quickly in the elite circles of high society. It's strict and limiting, and Adrien can't imagine not having Chat Noir to let him freely express and be his true self.

He misses staying inside the suit more than he does outside of it.

Or maybe he just misses the girl he sees when he's in the feline's costume.

He knows what she'd do if she were in his position.

"I stand by what I said," Adrien finally says, somewhat determined. "She said something bad about a friend, and I'm not sorry for protecting her." He pauses, then adds as an afterthought: "It's what she would do."

Kagami looks shocked, but nods slowly. "An honorable choice."

"You're going to regret it," Chloé only says, though he can see the hint of a smile on her face. "But I think your superhero crush would be proud of you for doing it."

As if perfectly on cue, an all-too-familiar figure steps through the entrances of the hallway.

Dressed in her token red suit and mask, Ladybug comes in, an awkward (but bright) smile on her face.

She looks absolutely beautiful tonight.

(But she always looks beautiful to him— so nothing's really new.)

"Are you a witch or something?" Kagami whispers under her breath. "Your timing is impeccable."

"I have my Ladybug radar on at all times."

"What about your Ryuuko radar?"

Chloé scoffs, then smiles softly. "Is that even a question?"

At that, the two sneak off, likely to some empty hallway to have time for themselves.

Adrien doesn't mind, watching with awe as Ladybug kindly greets all the guests at the party.

(He thanks the lucky stars that Ladybug had accepted Mayor Bourgeois' invitation, even if she only plans on stopping by briefly.)

They gravitate toward each other, as Adrien is the first to spark conversation.

"It's great you're here Ladybug," he says, almost flustered. "I'm a great fan of yours."

"I'm a great fan of yours too— I mean, you're a model! Right? I've seen you on billboards and stuff… you know, while I'm going around and saving Paris!"

The fact that Ladybug, of all people, is a fan of his civilian self brings Adrien a rush of joy that he never thought possible.

"You have no idea how much you being a fan of mine means to me."

"Believe me, I feel the same way."

They smile at each other, and enter into pleasant conversation.

She's definitely Adrien's favorite conversational partner by far.

They spend a good hour or so simply talking to each other (much to the envy of the other guests), and Adrien feels as if he's on cloud nine.

It's only when they walk to the beverage table that they are interrupted, as Ladybug accidentally bumps into a vase of greenery, consequently getting some of it in her hair.

Adrien leans in to help her, only belatedly noticing how closely they're standing together as whispers seem to surround the two of them.

Then:

"Mistletoe!" Someone suddenly chants, pointing enthusiastically at the two of them.

The rest of the crowd joins in, as Ladybug panickedly waves her hands to say 'no'— though it only serves to intensify the situation. He picks at the red berry upon her head, then smiles softly.

"May I, milady?"

She looks at him with wide-eyed surprise, then nods slowly.

Her eyes close, visibly nervous.

And Adrien presses a kiss to her forehead, before picking out the plant in her hair.

He shows it to the rest of the guests, then smiles. "This is actually holly, not mistletoe." Adrien looks almost mischievous, as they dissipate in disappointment.

"Wait… if you knew it was mistletoe, then why did you kiss me?"

He shrugs, the teasing grin still on his face.

"Maybe I just wanted to."

.

.

ADRIEN comes to pick her up before they go to school.

It's become a kind of strange tradition between them, for him to stop by the bakery every morning and walk with her to Françoise-Dupont. Ever since he was permitted to go to classes on his own— a freedom long overdue, really— he explains that he's been making the most of it as much as he can.

Her parents don't really mind, after all.

In fact, they think Adrien's a good kid, and it helps that someone else is around to make sure their daughter gets to school on time. Sabine and Tom also think that the two of them are pretty cute together, but decide to keep that little factoid to themselves.

Marinette's late, as per usual, stumbling down into the shop as she's greeted by the sight of her boy friend— emphasis on the space— comfortably leaning upon the counter, talking animatedly with his parents about some random topic about the happenings of the previous day.

(Is it strange that she's already getting used to that sight?)

"Marinette!" He notices her first, brightening up as she awkwardly waves at him. He's snuggly wrapped up in a warm jacket and hat, holding a to-go cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

"Morning, Adrien," she says, before quickly planting a kiss to her parents' cheeks. "Mom, dad."

"What? No kiss for Adrien here?"

Marinette splutters, to the amusement of his family— and even Adrien, who quickly coughs into his hand to hide the laughter that threatens to escape his lips.

She can't even say anything, with Adrien finally taking pity on her and tapping on the chair beside him, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"I was just talking with your parents," he starts. "About your plans for the holidays."

"Yes," her mom chimes in, smiling brightly as she leans onto her father. "You know, poor Adrien here doesn't have any plans for Christmas Eve? Mr. Agreste is only coming back from New York on Christmas Day, and I can't imagine how lonely it's going to be…," she side-eyes her husband, then gently nudges him at his blissfully unaware expression.

"Ah, right!" He coughs, then speaks in an almost overly-dramatic way: "How sad for Adrien, if only there was something we could do for him… if only he had somewhere to spend the day…"

Both of Marinette's parents eye her with sad eyes, as she only rubs tiredly at her forehead.

Why are her parents like this?

She takes a side glance to see Adrien, who has a somewhat soft smile on his face. (If anything, he even looks hopeful that she'll say yes.

Which is strange, considering that he can probably spend his Christmas anywhere he so wanted— from all the most lavish Christmas parties and celebrations… maybe she just doesn't understand the rich.

And it's not like she wants to tell him no, either.)

"Are you okay with this?" Marinette finally decides to ask, turning to face him directly.

After years of being friends and spending time together, she's glad to see that her tendency to stutter and stammer (and ultimately fail as a human being) around him has lessened by quite a bit.

But as he sits only a few meters away from her, close enough for her to almost count how many eyelashes he has, she frankly becomes reminded of how little it lessened.

And how her crush on him has only grown exponentially since they first met.

He smiles at her, and she has to physically force down the blush threatening to take over her face.

"Of course I am," he says honestly, maintaining eye contact with her as he leans the slightest bit closer. Marinette can't look away. "There's no place I'd rather be."

She wants to stay in the moment— really, she does— but her parents watching from beside her with the hugest smiles she's ever seen is more than enough to sever the mood.

Coughing awkwardly, she steps back and slings her bag over her shoulder. "That sounds great, then!" She finally says, "Christmas with Adrien Agreste, no big deal, nope! I'd love that— I mean, not that I love you but…," she pauses, then sighs in resignation. "Just. We'd love to have you there."

He laughs lightly, then stands up as well, holding the cup with one hand. He bows lightly to her parents. "It's always nice to talk to you, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng."

"Please, just call us mom and dad."

They wink, and Marinette decides against turning back so she doesn't have to see their faces. Instead, she grabs Adrien's hand and pulls him forward.

"Let's go," she says, only belatedly realizing that ohmygod they're holding hands and they fit so perfectly together do all fingers intertwine and meld this amazingly—?

They're one foot out the door, when her parents speak up:

"Ahem, Marinette," her mother says, forcing her to turn back.

"What?"

She only smiles, before gesturing for her to look up.

Oh, you've  got  to be kidding me.

At her exhausted expression, Adrien looks at where she's staring:

Consequently noticing the mistletoe hanging above the bakery door.

"Really?"

Her parents look excited.

"I'm not going to—"

Marinette turns to Adrien, fully expecting him to decline as well: until she sees his awkward (though almost… excited?) smile.

His fingers tighten their grip around her own, as he looks down at their intertwined hands.

"It's just a harmless tradition," he says quietly, some sound of amusement resounding from his tone. "A little holiday fun?"

She can't speak.

Is he serious?

He leans closer, and she closes her eyes in anticipation.

Then she feels the unmistakable touch of someone's warm lips.

Upon her hand.

Marinette's eyes flutter open, in time for her to see him press a kiss to her knuckles.

"What?" He asks, almost playful. "Did you expect anything else?"

She can't even speak.

(And thankfully doesn't notice the stifled laughter from behind the counter. Betrayal.)

"Come on, we're going to be late!"

He tugs her forward, as they disappear outside the bakery.

Marinette doesn't realize that Adrien's still holding her hand until they arrive at François-Dupont.

.

.

MARINETTE waits for him outside the balcony.

It's eleven-fifty in the evening as the snow starts to pile up, leaving Marinette to wish she'd put on more layers than her pair of pajamas and a cardigan around her small frame. Her nose is getting red from the cold, but she doesn't quite mind it as much as it should.

Because when she thinks about him, all Marinette can really feel is warmth.

Blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a smile that can bring even the sun to shame…

She's only distracted from her thoughts as a familiar suit of black starts making its way toward her.

He arrives almost clumsily at her balcony, holding a bright-red box in his hands as he furtively tries to hide it from her attention.

(It doesn't work.)

"Chat," she only says, then rolls her eyes. "You're late."

The first thing he does is bow down to her.

"Yes, and I'm so sorry, but I had some issues at home and—"

"Never mind that," she only says instead. "Do you have it?"

He smiles. "Of course I do," he starts, jokingly saluting at her. "Your local delivery man, at your service."

Marinette brightens up almost immediately as the words escape his lips.

"And it's really from him?" She asks, slowly taking the box into her hands.

It's quite small, fitting the palm of her hand, but Marinette knows that whatever's inside— the worth is immeasurable.

She hugs it close to her chest. "I can't believe he got me a Christmas present."

Chat Noir smiles at how excited the girl seems to be. "I— I know he's just really sorry that he couldn't give it to you himself."

"It's fine," Marinette only responds, the soft smile still on her face. "I know that he really wanted to go, and that's more than enough for me."

She recalls how apologetic Adrien had sounded over the phone, after telling her that he couldn't spend Christmas Eve with her family. (If anything, Marinette thought that he sounded more upset than she did about it—

Which is saying a lot, considering that she'd been looking forward to it as soon as he said he'd go.)

She tinkers with the box for a few more moments, then looks up at the superhero.

"Did he tell you what was inside?"

He ponders her question a bit longer than he should have. "Technically, no," he says, then pauses. "But I do know what it is."

"How do you know?!"

Chat Noir smiles lithely. "Let's just say that Adrien and I are similar in a lot of ways."

Marinette has to stop herself from snorting. "Please," she laughs lightly. "The two of you couldn't be any more worlds apart."

"... and what do you mean by that?"

"Adrien's the perfect type," she starts, then stops as she notices the superhero's almost hurt expression.

"So I'm not?"

"Nope," Marinette says easily. "But that's what I admire about you. You're imperfect and messy and chaotic, but you love and embrace your flaws, and even my own. It's so easy to be around you."

"Then Adrien is…?"

"He's kind," Marinette says carefully. "He's the kind of boy everyone dreams of, me included. But I always wished he'd drop his perfect interior in front of me and show his true self."

"The flawed self?"

"Yes. Because I'm sure I'd still love him just as much."

She smiles absentmindedly, then carefully starts to open the box.

Inside is a locket; gold, with a simple ladybug token hanging upon the chain.

Marinette belatedly notices the simple paper put inside the box:

To our Everyday Ladybug—

She turns the paper around.

And my ladybug.

Marinette isn't even given a moment to process the information as she looks away from the box, to notice none other than the boy in question standing before her.

Plagg floats next to him, a cautious expression on his face.

"Adrien, I— you— wait…" He tries to make calming gestures with his hand, giving her time to understand what's happening. "This can't be real…? You— are you really… and Plagg… wait, I thought I wasn't supposed to know your true identity…"

He looks absolutely nervous, and can't even get the words out.

Plagg speaks in his place:

"Sorry for the surprise, kid, but Tikki and I talked it over. With you being the guardian and all, it was only a matter of time before you two find out," then he sighs tiredly. "Adrien found out about your true identity by accident. And after that, he's been insistent on being the one to do the reveal."

"I— but— you— I'm— this is—"

The sudden buzz of Marinette's phone informs them that it's midnight.

"Merry Christmas, Marinette," Adrien finally says, voice soft as he takes her hands. "I love you."

He leans closer to her, as she suddenly stops him.

"Wait— but a kiss— it's too soon, and so out of nowhere…"

Adrien pauses thoughtfully, then smiles; almost mischievous.

He retrieves a pen from his pocket, then takes the box from her hands:

The word 'our everyday ladybug' is crossed out, as a simple word proudly displays itself in black, bold, lettering.

He holds it above their heads.

MISTLETOE.

"Is this enough of a good reason?"

Marinette can't stop herself from laughing. "You couldn't even draw it?"

"I'm not the artist," he only says. "That's your job."

"Then what's yours?"

"I provide the quality humor and flirting, I think."

She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Fine then," Marinette starts, leaning close to him before…

Pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"The cheek?!"

"You didn't even get real mistletoe. So you don't get the real thing, either."

He hmphs, before his eyes suddenly twinkle. "But if I get real mistletoe, then I'll get a real kiss?"

"As long as it's still Christmas, then sure."

"Great," he grins. "Twenty-four hours then."

.

.

CHAT NOIR looks at her for confirmation.

The mistletoe stands proudly above the two of them as the purified akuma flies away into the night, easily forgotten by the rest of the Parisians.

All they care about— and all he cares about is the girl held in his embrace, as she looks at him with eyes that he can't at all decipher.

(Or maybe he can: but it's too terrifying to think of what things could be if he were wrong.)

From the background, Alya holds her phone as the scene is livestreamed to all the families and friends celebrating their Christmas together.

He leans in close to her, hesitant, as if asking a question.

The outsiders can't make it out, but he whispers in her ear:

"That's real mistletoe," he points out. Then slowly: "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Ladybug doesn't say yes.

She doesn't say no, either.

Instead, she only smiles, leans forward:

Then kisses him.

Alya drops her phone as she throws her fist in the air, and the quiet chill of the city is instantaneously broken with a series of loud celebratory cheers and cries for celebration.

Everyone calls it one of the greatest Christmas miracles of all time—

And neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir can correct them.

[fabrowrites]

Oh, can I be your Bibilly Hills?

For Lloyd’s very late birthday! also on ao3 and ffn.net.

----------

Kai stands at the entrance to the cafeteria.  The bustle in the room is loud with kids meeting up with their friends, the snapping open of lunchboxes, and chairs and tables being squeaked across the floor.

Kai exhales.  He hikes his backpack higher onto his back.  Then he squares his shoulders and walks over to the table in the far corner of the room where only one person sits, despite the overcrowding at all the rest of the tables.

Lloyd Garmadon’s eyes lift as Kai drops into the seat across from him, only to return to his plate again just as quickly.  One by one, the rest of their secret ninja crew arrive.  They send glances at each other, and at Lloyd, who has started to eat his food with laser-like focus.  

It’s only been a week since Master Wu gathered them all together for a “very important meeting”.  It’s only been a week since he told them they were ready to take the next step in their team-building.  It’s only been a week since their eternally-masked leader took off his hood, only to reveal the son of Ninjago City’s very own warlord hiding beneath it.

Needless to say, conversation is stilted.  

A hand comes down on the table with a resounding smack.  Chen, captain of the cheer team, leans over their table.  “Hey, look, everyone,” he says mockingly.  “Garmadork has a dork squad now.”  He gives their table an obvious once-over, grin widening.  “Aw, why are you sitting with him?  Are your daddies super-villains too?”

“Hi, Chen,” Lloyd says.  “Nice insult.  Much more original than your last one- what was it?  The Bad Dad Lad?”

Chen’s face twists up in a sneer.  His hand snakes out and smacks Lloyd’s water bottle over, instantly flooding his lunch.  “Oops,” he says, sounding not at all sorry.  “I didn’t see that there!  Hope that wasn’t all you had.”

He saunters off, looking inordinately pleased with himself.  Lloyd, on the other hand, stares for several long seconds at his ruined lunch.  Kai expects him to look furious, or at the very least, upset, but there’s only this sad sort of look on his face.  Like he’d been expecting it to happen.  It’s so awful to look at that something in Kai snaps.  

“Here, have some of mine,” he says, shoving his bento forward.  “I always take too much rice anyways.”

Nya gives him a near-imperceptible nod from across the table; she’s thinking the same thing.  God, Kai loves his sister so much.  “This is true,” she says.  “The day Kai doesn’t bring home leftovers is the day he’s been replaced by his evil clone.”

Kai opens his mouth, intending to say just what he thought of that, when a quiet noise brings him back to the situation at hand.  Lloyd looks at them both, mouth parting slightly.  “Are you sure?” he asks, but he can’t disguise the way he’s already eying the bento up.

“Take it,” Kai insists. “It’s not doing me any good sitting here.”

Kai can see Lloyd’s hesitation wavering.  A moment later, the other boy accepts it with a quiet, “thank you”.  

The other ninja are watching.  Kai catches their eyes and mouths ‘later’ above Lloyd’s head.  After lunch wraps up, and Lloyd excuses himself to use the restroom, they all gather near the window.

“What happened at lunch-” Kai says without preamble- “it can’t happen again.”  It’s not like he was expecting them to protest, but something warms in his chest at how intensely they immediately nod.  They must look like a pack of bobbleheads to anyone passing by.

“He was just so sad,” Nya says.  “It makes me want to punch something.  Preferably Chen’s face.”

Jay backs a step away from her, laughing that nervous laugh of his.  Cole hums.  His ever-present headphones are hanging around his neck, which is how Kai knows just how seriously he’s taking it.  Headphone removal: truly the highest form of respect in the modern age.  “We should do something for him,” he says.

“Normal human teenager things?” asks Zane.

“Exactly!” says Kai.  “He’s an only child!  I bet he’s never had a blanket fort before!”

“We can make it at his house so he can keep it up longer,” Cole says.  “I’ve dropped off homework for him before.  I still have his address in my phone.”

“I’ll take him out after school to the comic book shop so you guys have more time,” Jay offers.  He twists his hands in his ever-present orange scarf.  

“And we’ll get the snacks,” Nya finishes.  She sticks her hand out.  The rest of them do too, and then there’s a period of silence where they look at each other awkwardly.  Wow, they really are lost without Lloyd.

Cole sighs.  “Ninja go,” he says.

“Ninja go!” Kai says.  The game is afoot.  

------------

The walk to the comic books shop is literally the definition of awkward silence.  

Jay and Lloyd walk three feet apart on the sidewalk.  Their eyes meet fleetingly across the way before skittering away.  People who pass them stare, and Jay ducks his head and meeps at each hateful glare sent his way.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lloyd mumbles.

Jay jumps.  “Huh?”  

Lloyd shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket.  “I said,” he says a bit louder, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Jay says nervously.  He wrings his hands in his scarf.  “I’m not doing anything?”

Lloyd looks pointedly at his hands.  He huffs, dipping his head so his bangs cover his eyes,  “Make yourself be nice to me, or whatever it is that you and the rest of them are trying to do.  I have eyes, Jay,” he says, when Jay opens his mouth to protest.  He glances up at him through his curtain of hair, and something in his face softens.  “It’s okay.  I’m used to it.”

Jay doesn’t know what to say to that.  But something comes over him, and before he can talk himself out of it he’s bridging the gap to walk right beside Lloyd.  Lloyd looks up sharply.  

“We want to be nice to you,” he says softly.  “You’re part of our team, aren’t you?”

Lloyd snorts.  “Some might go as far to call me the leader,” he says, but there’s this quiet, sort of pleased look on his face.  It’s enough for Jay to stick by his side, even as they move towards the busier part of the city and the glares and angry whispers increase.  

It takes them about fifteen minutes to get to the comic book shop.  Jay swings the door open, inhaling that paper-ink-and-smelly-teenager scent he’s become intimately familiar with.  Lloyd follows more hesitantly, blinking at the racks upon racks of books, merch, and everything in between.  His eyes widen when they land on the display case right in front of them.  

“No way!” he says, springing forward.  “I didn’t know this came out!”

“What?” asks Jay, jumping sideways to see.  “Is that the new edition of Starfarer?  Wait, you like Starfarer too?”

Lloyd is already flipping through the chapter, eyes scanning the pages.  “It was my favorite as a kid!” he says excitedly.  ‘I didn’t know they were still making it.  The library only has through chapter sixteen.”

“I think there’s forty-two now,” Jay offers.  Lloyd gives him a look that’s halfway between horrified and delighted.  Jay can’t help but grin back.  He goes to say something else, but a sharp exhale nearby interrupts their moment.  

Two men are standing across the room, muttering and glaring alternatively at them.  No, at Lloyd.  One scowls at them and leaves, heading towards the front desk.

“We should go,” Lloyd says.  With great reluctance, he sets the comic back down and pats it into place.  “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

It’s like that one tumblr post- and Jay will deny to the end that he has a tumblr- that’s like: ‘if somebody is more uncomfortable than me I am suddenly able to Do The Thing’.  “No, we just got here,” he says.  “We can’t leave yet.”

Lloyd looks obviously torn.  Jay sees the manager heading their way and makes the decision for him. Seizing his hand, he pulls Lloyd deeper into the store.  They speed-walk through the isles, ending up near the back.  

“They shouldn’t do that to you,” he says.  

Lloyd shrugs, eyes cast off to one side.  “It’s not like it’s anything new.”  

“Still,” Jay says, feeling his ears heat up.  The adrenaline of the moment has worn off, and now he’s feeling the embarrassment from his spontaneity.  “It’s not cool.”

Lloyd stares at him for several long seconds.  Jay squirms.  Lloyd looks like he wants to say something, but then his eyes slide past Jay and land on something behind him.

Lloyd’s entire face lights up.  “I thought they discontinued this years ago!”  He starts pawing through the container, making little mumbling comments and noises underneath his breath.  

Jay takes out his phone and surreptitiously sends a text to the group.  

bluejay: okay we are keeping him!!!

kaiguy: was that ever even an option?

-------------

The woman who opens the door for Cole and Zane looks… tired, for lack of a better way to put it.  Her hair is done up in a messy bun and there are dark circles under her eyes as she regards the pair of them warily.  

“Mrs. Garmadon?” asks Zane.

“Ms. Ito,” says the woman.  Her expression flattens the longer they stay silent.  “Look, if you’re looking to hassle me or Lloyd, it’s been a long day and-”

We’re some of Lloyd’s friends from school,” Cole blurts out.  He freezes the moment the words leave his mouth- interrupting someone?   Idiot, Mom taught you better than this - but the words themselves don’t feel false in his mouth.  They feel right, an unshakable truth like the laws of gravitation and motion, steady as the earth beneath his feet. He spares a look at Zane and finds the other nodding his agreement.

Lloyd’s mom, however, looks like she’s been slapped in the face.  ‘Friends?” she echoes, almost like she doesn’t believe them.  Which, as Cole reflects, shouldn’t be that surprising.  He’s seen the bullying at school firsthand.  A wave of regret knocks into him for all the times he’s stayed silent and watched- not participating, just not stepping in.  Never again, he swears to himself.  

While Cole’s been having this epiphany, Zane’s been barreling on ahead without him.  “Lloyd was harassed this morning in school,” he says primly.  “We want to build a structure of blankets for him in your apartment.”

Zane, Cole thinks, internally slapping his palm against his forehead.  

But Lloyd’s mom looks so grateful that Cole feels suddenly sick.  This woman has two complete strangers standing on her doorstep, practically demanding to be let in so they can destroy her house with pillows and blankets and loud teenagers.  She shouldn’t look like they’ve just saved her dog from a house fire.

“It’s really nothing,” he grits out.  “We just wanted to do something for him.”

He’s staring at the load of blankets in his arms, so he doesn’t see Lloyd’s mom move.  Suddenly, there are hands taking the pile from him.  Her face appears in front of his.  “It’s not nothing,” she says softly.  She doesn’t elaborate, but neither of them need her to.  “Come on in.  I’ll show you where everything is.”

------------

“Vegetable or Sriracha?’

“Does he like spicy things?”

Kai looks down at the two bags of chips in his hands.  “Both,” he decides.  “Both is good.”

Both their phones go off at the same time: Kai’s the default BorgPhone ringtone he’s never figured out how to change, Nya’s the Wilhelm Scream.  Nya digs hers out first.  “It’s Jay.”

Kai juggles the chips with the rest of the snacks in his arms.

jaybird: were almost done here

jaybird: well be at his house in like 20

jaybird: r u guys done yet?

do it for the vinyl: 👌

frozane: 😁 🥰 😚 😋 🤗 😇 🙃 😆 🤣 😘 🤪 🤩

Kai pockets his phone.  “Guess that’s our cue to go.”

They pay quickly and rush over to Lloyd’s house, using the address Cole had texted them all earlier.  

Kai hands off his bags to Zane, switching his shoes.  “Let’s see what you’ve done!”  He catches sight of the fort from the corner of his eye and his jaw drops.  “Woah.”

“Right?” Cole smirks.  

Kai’s too focused on the mass of colors and fabric swallowing up the living room, otherwise he would pick a fight.  He crawls through the entrance, a sheet hanging loose between two cushions.  

The fort is nearly tall enough to stand up in.  Cole and Zane have slung sheets from the lamp to the couch to a coat rack, using tape, clips and pillows to secure the blankets down.  A music stand supports the entire thing in the center.  Kai didn’t know that Lloyd took music, though maybe he should have expected it because, hello, Asian?  It seems like not knowing is a depressingly common thread running through all that they’ve been learning.

Kai squares his shoulders.  Nope.  Now’s not the time for beating himself up.  He’s just gonna do better, be better, from here on out.  

“Bring the snacks in already!” he hollers, sticking his head out the hole.  “Lloyd’s gonna be here any minute!”

Cole raises his eyebrow judgmentally, even as he passes him the bags of chips.  Nya has no such restraint and throws dried squid at his face.  

“Lloyd just texted to say he’s on his way,” Lloyd’s mom tells them from the kitchen entrance.  Kai thinks her expression is a mix of fear and awe, which is always a good reaction to one of Kai’s ideas.  

Kai can hear them now, feet thudding softly on the wood of the hallway through the thin walls.  They’re laughing at something- presumably a meme on Jay’s phone.  The dork has thousands of them.  Someone bangs against the door and then it swings open.  

“Hey, Mom,” Lloyd says, and Kai doesn’t think he’s ever heard him this happy.  The blond is switching his shoes, completely unaware of the spectacle behind him.  “Sorry that I’m late, we lost track of-”

He turns around and freezes.

“Surprise!” Kai shouts.  Behind Lloyd, Jay starts cheering.  Nya salutes him from her position sprawled on the couch and Cole and Zane wave at him from beside the fort.  

Lloyd’s mouth drops open.  “What?” he splutters.  “Wait, what’s going on?  What is all this?”

“Can’t we do something nice for our bro just ‘cause we feel like it?”  Kai crawls out and goes to him, slinging his arm across his shoulders.  

“Guys,” Lloyd says.  

To Kai’s horror, his eyes are wet around the corners.  Shoot, did they mess up?  “Don’t cry!” he yelps, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end.  “We’ll pick it all up, don’t worry!”

“No, no,” Lloyd says hurriedly.  “You did this for me?” he asks, awe in his voice. He glances around the room.  “All of you?”

“Of course,” Zane says.  “You are our friend.”

“We realized we’ve been a little lacking in that department,” Nya chimes in.  “So here’s us, making up for it!  We’re nowhere near done yet either,” she warns.  “Constant vigilance!”

Lloyd discreetly wipes his eyes.  “Thanks,” he says.  “I love a good threatening in my own living room.”

And for a moment, they all stay put in their places, grinning widely from Lloyd to each other.  Lloyd’s mom smiles softly, unseen, from where she stands in the kitchen.  

Kai grins.  The moment breaks.  “Well, don’t just stand there.  C’mon!  You’ve got to see what Cole and Zane did inside.”

[florenceandthemachine]

MORE BROKEN TUMBLR ASKS I AM SORRY ANYWAY. holy fuck this got long and severely out of hand. also apologies to @casscent because apparently Tumblr responded to this ask this morning with the answer “a”. so that’s cool. 

@casscent​ asked:

heyyyy hope you're doing great!  Ok how about Eddie meeting Buck in south america, bartending, instead of LAFD? I've been having that idea but too lazy to write. Thanks, xoxo.

“Welcome to Padrino, how can I satisfy you tonight?”

“Oh God, is that seriously how you greet your customers?”

It probably said a lot about Buck that a sarcastic response through him that much, but hey, being one of the few English speakers in one of the best bars in Equador had its perks. It was huge, it was clean, it was easy to find, and the immediate distance to the U.S. Army base in Manta meant that there was never a short supply of American citizens, going to or from deployment, who only spoke (you guessed it) English.

Even now, he had to admit, it was surprising getting a response that wasn’t a clear dismissal (or a drink order, acting like Buck hadn’t said anything at all), but Buck had always been good at rolling with the punches. 

“Trust me, looking at you? I could have said a lot worse.”

Business had been pretty slow, as it usually was in the mid-week, but even if the place had been bursting at the seams he would have taken the time to look his newest customer up and down. He was beautiful, that was no doubt—tan and tall, lean, with dark hair that lined his jaw and dark eyes that could probably melt steel if their owner should so desire to try.

The bar may not have been swamped, but it wasn’t empty, either—after taking Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s order (“Edmundo”, he had clarified, when Buck had to ask for a name for the tab) he bounced around the bar, but inevitably found himself back in Edmundo’s gravitational pull.

That in itself was curious; Buck had seen a lot of people at the bar, spoken to most of them, and flirted with most of them, but he hadn’t seen someone quite as captivating—while remaining as relatively silent—as Edmundo before. Most of the time, the men and women who were only a refuel and rest stop between Over There and home were another blend of insanity all together; they were rowdy, and loud, celebratory for all the right reasons, even the ones who came in alone.

Edmundo, though… well, he almost looked like he was being sent from one war zone to another.

“So, Edmundo—“

“Eddie. Call me Eddie.”

He grinned. “Well, Eddie, you can call me Buck,” he started, tapping at his badge. “And before you so rudely interrupted me, Eddie—“

Another snort of laughter. Buck grinned.

“What’s got you looking so down? You look like you’re heading to the firing squad, not heading home.”

Eddie looked over him slowly, his eyes a mix of critical and curious, tilting his head to the side. “How do you know I’m going home?”

“Well…” Buck hummed thoughtfully, tossing a rag over his shoulder as he closed another tab out, sliding the billfold and a smile over to the couple who he hoped would take the hint and make out somewhere other than his bar. “You’re sitting here alone, instead of trying to bond prematurely with your future platoon, proving that you’re one of the boys, or whatever it is that makes guys crave the acceptance of other guys. You’re wearing your civvies, not your fatigues, which means you don’t have any expectations of formality when you get wherever you’re going, but it also means you’re not expecting any commanding officers to walk in and reprimand you. And because you ordered a Coors. Seriously, man, no one who’s about to go overseas orders something as boring as Coors. The last outgoing squad in here ordered Goldschlager for the entire bar. It was disgusting.”

Eddie let out a full laugh at that as he tipped his beer in Buck’s direction—and what a lovely sound it was—and Buck let himself preen a little as Eddie nodded his head.

“Got it in one.” He said with a smirk, taking another swig from his boring beer, his smile falling a little bit as he swallowed, seeming to come back into himself, weighing Eddies earlier question with an entirely new meaning. 

“My flight is in three days, we’re waiting for some of my squad members to be cleared by medical before we go home. My CO offered to get me home earlier, but I guess… I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. Somehow, Texas has become even more daunting than the desert.”

Buck didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just didn’t; he knew as well as anyone else that useless platitudes were just that, useless, and it didn’t look like any faux words of wisdom would have helped Eddie in that moment anyway.

The two were quiet as Buck poured another round of shots for one of the smaller tables at the back of the bar, watching critically as the patron stumbled on her way back to her friends, but as long as the tab was open and the drinks weren’t spilled, he wasn’t going to complain yet.

“What about you, Buck? Are you happy here, or just avoiding your own firing squad, like I am?” His brows rose again as he heard Eddie speak, not just because the other was initiating more conversation, but because he had been tending bar for almost a year and no one had asked him that before.

The question should have been an easy one, but nothing was easy, really, not when you were comparing backgrounds with a fucking vet—and try as Buck might, there was no way that ‘I ran away from my shitty parents and ended up crossing over Panama and I’m a bar tender because my options were either that or hooking’ would sound anything but whiney to someone who was coming home from actual war. So he shrugged, made Eddie his change, and tilted his head.

“Just taking it as it comes, Eddie. Like a lot of us. Like you will be for the next three days, it sounds like.” He offered, and Eddie snorted as he pocketed his change, leaving a few bills on the bar. A small wave was the only goodbye they exchanged as Eddie turned and walked out of the bar.

--

Repeat guests weren’t the typical norm in Padrino, and Buck had to admit, he was a little surprised to see Eddie walking back in the next night.

“Welcome to Padrino, would you like a taste?”

“Jesus, Buck, that was even worse than yesterd—oh, hey, are you alright? You get into a fight or something after I left last night?” Eddie asked, his teasing expression immediately clouded over by something that was strangely resemblant of genuine concern, and Buck blinked in surprise as he touched his own brow. “What? Oh, no, I just didn’t put any concealer on tonight. It’s just a birthmark.”

Eddie leaned in to examine it, and Buck held his breath, trying to ignore how close they both were, all of a sudden, and wow, Eddie’s eyes were a beautiful color this close, and—

“Huh. Cute.”

And now Eddie was calling him cute and Buck felt his cheeks heat up.

“Shut up, Eddie. What can I get for you? Same old boring beer?”

Their night went on in a somewhat similar fashion as before, with Eddie allowing himself more than one beer this time, and Buck having a few more customers to distract himself with when he felt himself pulled in by Eddie for a bit too long. After a wave of patrons had wandered out onto the patio and off of their property, Buck sighed in relief, pocketing a thick roll of tips as he tapped away at the bar terminal.

“I think I found a solution to your problem, by the way.” He said as he reappeared in Eddie’s corner, sliding another beer his way as he tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. Eddie looked marginally surprised, but curious, and gestured for Buck to continue. “For your hypothetical firing squad back at home. Clearly, the best answer is to just stay here in Equador. You can avoid getting shot, I can teach you how to make a mean canelazo, everybody wins.”

Eddie was laughing again—wow, what a nice sound—and Buck’s eyes were probably just playing a trick on him, but he actually looked somewhat remorseful when he had to shake his head.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, Buckaroo. I, um. I have someone needing me to get home.”

“Oh? Wife? Girlfriend?… Boyfriend? Come on now, it’s the responsibility of every good bartender to know.”

Eddie looked torn for a moment, and Buck was worried he had taken a step past the line, until Eddie looked back up to him, and Buck felt his heart stop, because oh god—Eddie was being shy. It was adorable. Buck couldn’t handle it.

“Actually… I have a son. Christopher. His mom left us when I was deployed… I can’t make him wait any longer.” He fished a small chain out of his coat pocket, a small pendant dangling from the chain. The St. Christopher’s pendant swung between his fingers, and Eddie seemed to bring himself back to the present as he stowed the chain back in his pocket. “He’s, um. He’s a great kid. And I’m lucky to be his dad, I just… He’s been with my parents for four years, and he’s only seven.”

Buck couldn’t help but smile, leaning down, resting his head in a hand as he shook his head. “He’s only seven, and he’s the reason you’re afraid to go back?”

“What if he doesn’t remember me?”

“Eddie, please.” Buck said, a snort on his lips, shaking his head. “I’ve only met you twice now, and I can guarantee I will never forget you.”

The night continued on easily after that, conversation flowing naturally, even as Eddie put back a few more beers. When the time came for them to part ways, Eddie stood again, offering the same silent wave that he had before, and… well, that just wouldn’t do.

“Night, Eddie.” He called in a sing-song voice, considering it a victory as Eddie paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Night, Buck.”

--

Though the previous night was technically his Friday, because Buck was a saint, he still answered his phone when the bar owner called at 1030 that night, fresh from the shower and with nothing else to do. Maria, his late-night cohort, had gone into labor in the middle of one of the busiest nights of the week, and like the saint he was, Buck was happy to fill in.

And take over the tips that night.

But mostly, to fill in, like the saint he was.

“Buckaroo!”

…okay, and maybe for one other reason.

Eddie was back in his spot on the bar (and when had it become Eddies spot?) and… had a row of shot glasses emptied around him, and if that hadn’t told Buck that Maria had worked her magic on him, the big smile on his face would have been key enough.

“It’s my favorite Bucky-Buck!”

Well, at least Eddie seemed like a happy drunk.

Buck didn’t even need to fake a smile, which was as surprising to him as anything else, as he clocks himself in. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Edmundo.” He said, a teasing lilt to his voice, and the grin that Eddie shot his way was blinding. He immediately filled up a pint glass with water and slid it over to him, easily sliding into the business of the bar, handling a few extra tabs as customers poured in and out of the bar.

As easy as it was for him to tend the bar, it was even easier for him to converse with Eddie. Eddie was the ideal drunk, really—he was all smiles when Buck looked over, he was nice enough to any of the people who sat next to him, and more importantly, he was more than happy to throw back any drink that Buck put in front of him, including water.

“Buck, how do you get so handsome?” Eddie asked him after his fourth glass of water, looking up at Buck like he hung the moon. It wasn’t unusual for a drunken stranger to be so forward in their thoughts, especially regarding the bar staff, but that didn’t mean that Buck didn’t feel a little bit of heat rising in his cheeks every time Eddie directed some of those thoughts toward him.

“Buck, your arms look so strong! I bet you could lift me. Let’s try it!”

Oh, god.

“Buck, did I tell you how cute your beauty mark is? It’s so cute. Buck you’re so cute.”

No one had ever called it a beauty mark before, and Buck felt his flush raise high on his cheeks in the same moment as he balled up the rag he was using to wipe down the bar and chuck it at Eddie’s head.

Eddie started to calm down—dozing, maybe?—as the bar started to close down, midnight long since past. It was just Eddie and a few other parties at the bar, but where Eddie was quieting down, they were just riling up. And Buck was the lucky bitch who got to cut them off.

“Cmon, kid, I just want ‘nother drink. You can’t cut me off yet, I’m f-I’m fine! See?”

The blond man on the other side of the bar was certainly not fine, but far be it from Buck to judge—he just couldn’t serve him any more alcohol.

“I’m sure you are, so why don’t you drink some water and let your friends take you home?”

The hand that pushed at his chest was not a welcome surprise; hell, it wasn’t a surprise at all, Buck had no misconceptions about the kinds of assholes that would try to fight a bartender, but before he could even threaten to call the cops, the blond asshole was out for the count, body hitting the floor after the sharp slap of skin on skin contact.

“Don’t you fucking touch him.”

Eddie stood, body prone over the quickly-unconscious male, his fist still extended. Any signs of inebriation had apparently worn off; his body was steady, the punch was aimed well, and probably packed enough strength behind it to feel like a freight train. Wow, Eddie had muscly arms. How had Buck not noticed that before?

Okay, no, hold on, this was not the time or the place to be aroused by how strong and powerful and fucking insanely hot Eddie was. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind did Eddie look over at him, their eyes locking (and oh god, Buck was instantly hard, feeling that smoldering gaze trained on him), but the spell was almost immediately broken as Eddie took a step back, eyes wide and uncertain. Buck could read his customers like a book 99% of the time, and if the look on Eddie’s face said anything, it was that Buck had about a second before Eddie fled.

“Buck, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Stop, Eddie. You’re okay, thank you for doing that.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Eddie—”

“I have to go. I’m sorry.” Buck sighed as Eddie slapped a few bills down on the table and turned heel, nearly sprinting out of the bar with a surprising agility for someone who had only moments before been complimenting Buck on his ‘beauty mark’.

Oh well. There was always tomorrow.

--

Except, Buck realized the next morning, there wouldn’t be a ‘tomorrow’ Today. Whatever. Eddie had said that his flight was in three days the night they had met, which meant that he was going to be gone today. Hell, he probably already was gone.

Disappointment pooled in his stomach, but somehow, that made him feel all the more foolish. He doubted that Eddie even remembered who he was, let alone what the looked like, let alone the things that he had been saying last night.

--

Two years later, Buck’s world burst into color when Chim a calendar, of all things, brought his world full circle.

“Okay, now that… is a beautiful man.”

Buck had to turn, and then did an honest to God double take, when who else but Edmundo—his Edmundo, not that he had any right to think that—walked out of the locker room. He looked… different. More serious (or maybe he was just sober), but there was no denying the face, the hair, and if all else failed, the tattoos. He stood, frozen on the spot, as Bobby walked past him, taking turns to introduce everyone in the squad.

“Eddie, this is Hen, Chim, and back there is—“

“Buck?”

Two years. Two years had gone by, and Eddie still lit up like they were staring at one another across a bar. Buck couldn’t help it—he grinned back, taking a few easy strides to wrap Eddie in a hug, pleasantly surprised when Eddie didn’t even miss a beat, hugging him right back.

They pulled back from one another when Chim cleared his throat, but even then, they were only looking at one another, both completely oblivious to the awkward tension in the room.

“Uh, Buck, Eddie, are you gonna tell us—“

“What are you doing tonight?”

Buck blinked as Eddie cut right through Chim’s question, his cheeks pinking up a little bit even as he shrugged. “I don’t think I have any plans.”

Eddie’s smile could have lit the place ablaze, and Buck felt honored, not for the first time, that it was aimed at him, even as Eddie spoke again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

[louloubabys1992]

Ask for writers

Tagged by @theisolatedlily​ thank u babe xoxo

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted: 

I got so into the 1D fandom that I opened a tumblr account and found loads of fics about Harry and Louis. I got hooked. I go way back as a fan. am one of those who started reading fics from tumblr accounts and livejournals. I know a lot still read from those until now, even me, until ao3 became the basis of fics. I read so many fics that i wanted to write my own as well. my first ever fic, officially, was an apocalypse/zombie au called Nothing Can Come Between You and I. I say officially because I posted a couple of fics before this one but they were edited fics from a writer who took down his/her fics for reasons I don’t wanna get into. I asked permission to post them and edit them. That’s when I started joining up as a beta as well :D

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

I typically write in Louis’ narrative but I don’t usually base it on any perceptions I have of him, even if it’s canon. most of my fics are inspired by circumstances I see around me in my day to day life or by events that one can relate to because they do happen.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

I read a lot of fics as I’ve mentioned before and each and every one of them has left an impact on me that made me the fic writer I am today. Whenever I lack inspiration, I just open my bookmarks on ao3 and read. And then, a bulb lights up and voila, inspiration hits

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

helped a lot! i wrote more during quarantine than I do now even though am somewhat working from home. but when corona was at its peak back in March, everything was on hold and I turned to writing.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence? 

silence. Am sadly not one of those people who could write in a corner in a cafe even though I wish I could do something like that.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

word vomit. not into that.

7. describe your ideal writing setup: 

after midnight, laptop on a cushion on my lap, neck pillow for my neck, my bed, and a quiet house where everyone is already sleeping and my mind is brimming, racing faster than my fingers could type hahahaah

8. favorite time of day to write?: 

after midnight. it mostly has to do with the fact that I am not available during the day but even before when I wasn’t working, i would find myself procrastinating all day or totally lacking inspiration and then come night time, and my mind comes alive hahahaha

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

Canon fics

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? 

I mean, who doesn’t, right?

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult? 

easiest is after I’ve day-dreamed the scene because when I day dream, its detailed to the tee, down to the words and the dialogue but the most difficult is when I postpone an idea I had in my head. If I don’t write it down instantly, it never turns out the same and that’s quite frustrating

12. how do you come up with original characters? (

I do insert a lot of original characters in my fics and they are sometimes inspired my real people but only in terms of appearance not by character or name. so, if am describing an original character in any of my fics, know that he exists but his character is not the same in real life hahahaha

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? f

wow, this is random. um. fav would be scars and least would be veggies

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

I don’t think it was something I was proud of at first but a lot of people who comment on my fics say that they like my pacing and the dialogues. so maybe that? I would say I think I need to work more on my originality. sometimes, i find myself drifting to a fic I’ve just read, especially if its the same trope and am like, wow, that’s not mine at all.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

definitely my first abo fic Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die. I love that au and I’ve always wanted to put my own tiny twist in it. am really proud of how it came about and am massively humbled by the comments and support it received :D

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

arial, font 18 and sometimes bigger because I don’t have good eyesight

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?:

names, because sometimes the names I choose are apprarently just not cool with microsoft word for some reason....sighs

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

yes, but its not intentional, it just happens

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?Angst because that’s just me hahahaaha. the most difficult? hmm, emotional love confessions maybe or the transition from friends to lovers. yeah.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

the passion behind it maybe?

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

best advice is to sleep on it because I do come up with scenes for my fics when I am about to sleep ahahahah. the worse one I got came from someone who obviously doesn’t know a thing about writing. he said, ‘’just don’t write it and do something else.’’ I mean, really?

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

nope, not happening.

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?: 

most of the time in order.

24. how do you handle criticism?

quite well I think. 

 25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

Go for it. Writing is not a silly hobby. if it’s really something you wanna do, even if its just for fun or to pass the time or to make new friends. go for it, There are so many fics in this fandom that until this day, are still ingrained in my mind because they were so touching and moving to me. you never know what your words could do for someone or how much your words could make a person’s day a better day 

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

the comments posted on my fics in ao3 always make me happy. I feel like its the best to find out if my work is worth someone’s time, you know? even though I do write for myself most of the time, the validation is nice sometimes :D

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend? 

wow, all of them? 

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

hmm, I mean people could ask what they want so am cool with anything. am not picky. I get asked about plot lines or what would happen next when it comes to cliffhangers and I do my best to answer them without revealing too much :D

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

I definitely made new friends through it and it’s been great :D

30. why do you write?

it’s my favourite thing in my entire life. It’s the one thing that no one in my life knows about, as in the people that I work with, my friends, even my family, none of them have ever read anything I’ve ever written and am fine with it. I feel like writing is purely for me and it’s something I’d like to keep as a part of me you know?

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

Harry smiles despite himself. Three years together, since he was nineteen, and it shouldn’t be a surprise that Louis knows him so well, can tell by the sound of his voice if he’s okay or not, nervous or not, happy or not.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

the one am writing for the harry/men fic fest

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of: 

‘’You’re being really quiet and I don’t like it,’’ Louis points out.

‘’Just a bit tired,’’

‘’Stay here then,’’ Louis pats the bed. ‘’Sleep next to me,’’

‘’Are you sure? I don’t want to mess with anything by accident or…’’

‘’Harry?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’I won’t get a wink’s worth of sleep if you’re even an inch away from me,’’ he says firmly. ‘’And I’ll go on a limb here and say neither will you.’’

‘’But…’’

‘’No buts, I’m serious.’’ Louis cups his cheek, his blue eyes big and beautiful, like an entire fucking galaxy. ‘’I missed you something terrible these past few days,’’

‘’Lou…’’

‘’Be here with me, Haz. Please?’’

Harry hums before he pushes himself forward. He cannot stop it, cannot keep himself from gravitating towards Louis, taking what he wants, what he needs to make it through the night. He cups Louis’ face and kisses him but even then it’s not enough and he skates one arm around Louis’ small shoulders and tugs him closer, careful not to jostle Louis too much and kisses him like Louis’ a mermaid and he needs his air or else he’ll drown.

It eases an ache in him he didn’t know was trying to get his attention the moment he entered the room, something deep and visceral, calming down with the way Louis’ molds his lips against his, with the shape of his mouth fitting with his own, with the way his body is trying to align with his, like a constellation, each star coming together to mean something greater than they can ever grasp, something more infinite and vast.

‘’I love you,’’ Louis whispers into his lips.

‘’I’m never letting you go,’’ Harry says before he reaches for another kiss. ‘’Love of my life, fucking best thing to ever happen to me, you know that?’’

‘’My rock,’’ Louis kisses him back. ‘’My fortress,’’ and kisses him again, ‘’my strength,’’ and again and again. ‘’I love you so much. Would be dead without you,’’

‘’Don’t say that,’’

‘’It’s true,’’ Louis gasps as Harry devours his mouth, trying to stop him from saying another word. ‘’I would’ve crawled out that room right to your feet, Haz. I would’ve…’’

‘’Shh, just me kiss, babe. Just kiss me,’’ Harry pleads.

And so they do.

4a; line from my fics that I am most proud of:

hard to choose really

5a. link the last fic you read: 

bang bang (my baby shot me down) by thepolourryexpress

6a. link the last work you published: 

Ellen's haunted house by louloubaby92

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/louloubaby92/works

8a. someone that inspires you 

Louis Tomlinson

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: 

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! 

@falsegoodnight​ @twopoppies​ @mediawhorefics​

[ekhap]

The Beginning

And, with the first post on this account minutes ago, I am proud to present my first story for this tumblr - the Beginning. Bandit/Montagne, Rated T

Read it here! or below!

“I need you to look at me, okay? Look at me – everything is going to be okay. I swear.”

It wasn’t. He’s lying through his teeth and Dom knows it.

—*—

When Dominic Brunsmeier joined Rainbow, it was the break of a lifetime. He could start new – create a whole new persona that only Elias would see through. A persona that he could feel comfortable in.

Harry calls it a coping mechanism. Dom, though? It’s an asset of the highest degree.

Only when he joined and was faced with 18 new faces – he had never even heard of a Monika Weiss or Marius Streicher in the GSG9 – that he realized his mistake. These weren’t his buddies in Hell’s Angels, or even the normal workaholics in the GSG9, but battle-hardened professionals. Quite frankly, they could care less about how he presented himself. So he made them care.

Luckily, this didn’t make him too many enemies. In fact, he buddied up with the SAS bum who insists everyone call him Smoke. He says it’s to add to his mystique, but Dom just so happens to know that it’s reallybecause if another colleague calls him Jamie he will go feral.

A former alcoholic and a father to an adopted daughter. Yet again, someone who simply does not care who or what he is, but how much he can drink, prank the others, and win bets. They sabotage the coffee machine justright to make Thatcher infuriated when his tea taste like metal, and they giggle like schoolkids getting away with something.

Then, Dom’s eyes wander. Aurelia “Six” Arnot takes regular trips to other countries to scout out other counter-terrorism unit. American, Canadian, Brazilian, and Japanese men and women join the already-crowded halls of Hereford, and Dom thinks.

Thinks about how close the Spetznaz are, yes, but specifically how Kapkan and Glaz always drift towards each other before Fuze and Tachanka. How Rook looks when he gets off the phone after talking in excited French. How Thermite gravitates towards Pulse, who could really care less. How that traitor Smoke smacks Mute’s behind before demanding he make out with him. And then how Mute does. In the middle of the workshop.

Dom thinks, and he doesn’t like the thoughts his brain is spitting out.

—*—

“Please, put a little bit of effort in, Dom, we got to get you out in one piece.” A shot rings out in the distance.

The mission was supposed to be quick. The hostage was in a small holding cell, awaiting execution. Six had told them that they most likely had twelve hours to raid the Spanish cell of terrorists before they executed the hostage. A woman named Miriam, a scientist at the peak of her career, but the other operators could care less.

Dom cares. He remembers. Doesn’t do anything with the information, but she deserves a name. He missed his when he was undercover.

Bad Intel, he can imagine Six’s voice saying. He’ll be in the hospital when Ash gives the debrief, and he can imagine the casualty report - soclose to being pristine. Too bad he got shot, but at least it wasn’t dear Miriam.

Who the fuck is carrying him, anyways?

—*—

When he first approaches Marius, it didn’t go as successfully as he had hoped. Though, he should have expected that, as asking him directly, “Want to come back to my place,” with no preamble at the local bar would have made anyone confused. If Dom was being honest, though, the way he spit out his drink was hilarious.

When Marius awkwardly tries to explain that sorry, I’m not interested you in that way, Dom’s eyes are already drifting. There’s a brunette in the corner showing off her cleavage, but she’s giggling with her friends and raiding a party isn’t Dom’s style. Right now, anyways. A guy with a strong face sitting three bar stools away from Marius, exactly Dom’s type, except for the fact that he’s drinking tea. At a pub not a mile away from a military base. That strong face is already only surface level, in Dom’s eyes.

When Marius asks if he’s paying attention, he looks back down at the poor engineer blushing, as if he was putting himself out there.

“No, I wasn’t.” Dom says, kisses Marius on the cheek, and before Marius can retaliate, confidently strides off. Monika comes out of the bathroom and looks at Marius quizzically before he shakes his head.

So, no, Dom’s first journey into Rainbow’s pants didn’t go specifically as planned, but he still tried, didn’t he? And so what if it stung a bit to see Marius blushing at Doc the next day, Dom’s mind had already moved past any thought of the awkward engineer. Surely. And so what if Doc was confused when Marius thanked him profusely for the chocolates, and asked him out. Finally. It was all a part of Dom’s plan.

If he couldn’t do the job, someone else can do it better.

—*—

It’s an agonizing turn of the head to see his savior’s face. Previously, he had just lolled his head back and was happy that someone decided to check if he was alive or not.

Strong jawline. Hard-set eyes. Balaclava obscuring everything else about his face.

“I’m going to adjust you, alright? Tell me if you’re in pain.” It’s a French accent, and oh if luck would have it that Doc was carrying him out of the building. After Chimera and Truth or Consequences, there was the off-chance that it was Lion carrying him out, but Dom doubts that he would make any effort after Dom told him he deserved to get punched by Thatcher. And after he told him that he could fuck his sky daddy if he loved him so much.

Finally, the man stops walking, adjusts his hold on Dom, and digs his fingers directly into the wound site. It’s all Dom can do to groan to try to make his savior aware.

He gets the hint, and moves his hand so it’s gripping a bit further up on his thigh.

—*—

Then something happens a year into Rainbow. August 13th, exactly. A day of mourning for Dom, but for those that don’t get the hint, a day to throw presents at him and act like they care.

Some of them do, actually. Smoke gets him an explicit t-shirt he found online with a woman sitting on a man’s face. Elias throws him a gift card and tells him to go buck wild. Marius, surprisingly, gives him an intricate machine made of inter-locking gears that all turn simultaneously. It’s an invitation, though not the same one Dom extended at the bar. It sits on his desk that he never uses, now, and reminds him why he still talks to the engineer endlessly infatuated with the doctor.

First, Rook is comforted by Elias. This sets the springboard for the two men to snap together like magnets, almost worse than the disaster couple in the SAS. They’re awkward, cute, and fawn over each other and it makes Dom want to hurl every time he sees them interact.

Second, Blitz introduces Montagne to him. A man that matches his namesake in how he towers over Bandit, but shocks him with how nice he is. He stands in stark contrast to the bubbly Rook, excruciatingly serious Doc, and analytical Twitch with his niceties.

Gilles, he says his name is. But everyone calls him Monty.

Third, Dom goes drinking. This, in of itself, would be hardly worth mentioning, but drowning in the reminders of his brother, how Cedric could have been here instead of him and Dom would have been just as happy for him, he looses sense of time at some point. His last memory of that night is sizing up a short woman with cropped black hair, and he wakes up in a bed with Monty, clinging to his arm.

So, technically, the something happens one day after, but it’s all the same to Dom.

After staring at the mountain of a man for entirely too long, he begins to wake up. Stretches the arm that’s free, shakes himself out a bit, all before he opens his eyes.

They’re a beautiful icy blue.

“Good morning,” Gilles mumbles.

Dom simply moans. Quietly. Staring at his neck.

Then, it all hits him. His head starts pounding, and he feels like throwing up violently into the nearest receptacle. He turns onto his back and groans openly.

“Here, take this,” Dom glances over and sees two pills extended out. He gingerly picks them up, and is offered a glass of water. He takes it and takes greedy gulps. Gilles chuckles lightly next to him.

“So, uh,” Dom starts, forcing himself to look back at the man, still holding the glass of water and no longer clinging to the other man’s arm. “How was the sex? Because, really, I cannot remember any of it.”

“Dom, we didn’t- I would never-” Gilles begins tripping over himself to explain himself. It’s endearing. Almost. Gilles stops and clears his throat. “I, uh, Elias called me, and asked me to check for you at the bars in the area. He said he checked the three closest to Hereford but had to get back to base. He said that he would’ve called Marius but he wanted to make sure that you came back in one piece. I found you slumped in a bar stool, and I brought you back to base, but you-uh, didn’t have your key readily accessible. So, here we are.”

“So here we are.” It’s a story that makes sense. He hasn’t been able to pick anyone up since his days in Hell’s Angels, when he shaved his head and looked more intimidating than attractive. But, there is one question.

“So why the hell am I wrapped around your arm?”

“You wouldn’t let go of me last night, I was going to sleep in the living room but you’ve got a surprisingly strong grip when drunk, you know?”

“So I’ve been told.”

—*—

The blinding light of the sun forces Dom to close his eyes, and when he’s roughly laid down onto a stretcher that he realizes, yes, he survived that ordeal, and no, he didn’t lay on the floor for a period of time after getting shot in nearly the same spot.

It’s hard, but he turns his head towards the man who saved him and sees the massive riot shield that could only belong to one man.

—*—

Nothing changes. Monty is the highest form of the good – the perfect person to fall in love with.

So Dom doesn’t. It’s easy, he was in denial about who he really was for seven years, what’s a flight of fancy.

Except he keeps happening.

The two go out drinking. Dom, for the first time, goes a month without blacking out. Then two. Then he stops keeping count. As Elias becomes more and more infatuated with Rook, surprising even himself with how much he could dote on another man, Monty becomes a permanent figure in Dom’s life.

It’s disorienting. And almost unwelcome if he wasn’t so… Monty. Stable, kind, awkwardly funny Monty.

Then he mentions an ex-wife, and everything is almostperfect. Why get your hopes up when they have no chance of being interested in you? After all, Monty has never expressed interest in anyone, no man nor woman, so the most logical solution is that he’s straight and retired from dating.

Then, of course, Dom ends up in Monty’s lap desperately making out with him. Or bouncing on his cock. Or mouth filled with that same, succulent-

And he always wakes up in a slightly cold sweat, slightly panicked, feeling just slightly off. He can’t even look at any of the other people at the bar without thinking but what if? And, really, it’s too hopeful for Dom’s liking.

When he brings it up to Smoke, the other man’s cheeks are flushed from an interaction with Mute. It’s the only time that he seems to have for Dom anymore, but he doesn’t mind, not with a mountain of a man slowly wedging his way into his life as a permanent figure. Just ask him, mate he said. Worst he can say is no, but he’s wrong. It could be somuch worse.

—*—

What happens in the next few minutes is a solid blur for Dom. He sees Doc’s face, eyes full of judgement as if it was his fault he got shot through a wall. Stares at Monty’s back as he debriefs Ash on the situation, who writes it down diligently. Feels a piercing pain in his thigh as the bullet is taken out, and he finally, finally, slips into the unconscious world.

—*—

He doesn’t ask Monty for anything. It’d be too rude, to ask the man who graces him with his presence for more than that. He basks in the man like a cat in the sun, and when they get drunk enough to crave physical contact, Dom files those memories away for lonely nights. Never reaching what Dom would deem perfect, but who can claim to have that, anyways?

Time passes. He finds out that before everything, Monty was considering going to a music school for the cello, and Dom can’t help but chortle imagining the trained killer sitting on a stage, brow furrowed in concentration as he plays. Monty delves deep enough into Bandit’s past to find the trauma, and they spend a night in Dom’s room, the owner crying into the other’s arms.

File, file, file.

It’s years later, with their relationship built on respect and genuinely enjoying each other’s friendship that Flores is recommended to the new Six, Harry, that Bandit takes a good look at his life. Desperately clinging onto a crush that could have otherwise been easy enough to push underneath a pillow and suffocate, should he have chosen to cut off all contact.

He thinks about Goyo and Blackbeard, whispering with smiles on their faces, then fighting five minutes later. Kapkan and Glaz always carpooling. Elias and Rook considering getting a bigger apartment.

It’s so fucking unfair. But fair isn’t what Dom asked for, did he?

Flores waltzes into Rainbow, and smiles when he talks about his husband. How if Rainbow proved stable enough, he’d fly him out to live in Hereford. Picture perfect, the essence of stability.

So Dom makes a move. Sees his surroundings, and refuses to remain, what he sees, as an outlier.

—*—

When Dom wakes up, he’s in the nearest hospital. The clinical white lighting blinds him for a second, but when he comes to his senses, he takes a look around his room.

It’s perfectly clean, no flowers, personal items, or anything, really. The clothes he wore on the mission sit in a neat pile in one of the two chairs, and in the other sits the mountain of a man who Dom has come to rely upon. Sleeping peacefully, his head lolled forward. He’s too perfect to disturb.

Luckily, staring at Monty seems to have done enough to disturb him, and he begins his long process of waking up that, so far, Dom has only seen once. The scrunch of the shoulders, raising of the elbows, big sigh, all before he opens crystal blue eyes.

What beauty, wasted on Dom.

“Hey,” Dom says, voice gravelly. He would cough but he worries Monty would see him as sick or weakand he worries about Monty worrying.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” And there it is, the slight smile, just a bit slighter since last time he saw it.

“Should I ask about the sex or is that too far?” And, yes, there it is, the killer smile that could make Dom faint again.

“It was alright, would’ve been better if you weren’t bleeding out, but,” he reaches a hand out to Dom’s face and strokes his thumb over the cheekbone. It’s so comforting that Dom has trouble breathing for a second. “I was thinking, though.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.” He takes the comforting warmth away and grabs a hold of Dom’s hand. “But I think, once you get out, we should talk. Does Augusta’s sound good?”

And Dom flashes back.

Do you think we could go somewhere different? He asked.

Somewhere different how?

Augusta’s has great food, even Maestro approves of her cooking.

Are you asking me out?

And Dom shuts the fuck up and shakes his head.

“Augusta’s sounds perfect.” And Dom can’t stop smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, Monty wasn’t lying on the battlefield. It could, just maybe, be alright.

[softbuckismykink]

The Last Goodbye

So I read that^ and came up with a story and I started writing it... Then when I was about to post I realized opps I read the pronouns wrong... Can’t be bothered to change my story though...  so here it is... :)

Not an x-over just borrowing characters from another show. To play Buck’s ex is Clay Spencer from SEAL Team. Now I didn’t watch the show pass like episode ten in season one so I don’t know much about the character or his origin story. I’m just borrowing him cause I can’t be assed to create an O.C. just for a one shot.  If you happen to have knowledge of how military/navy works please suspend your disbelief, I did research but honestly it’s just me reading wikipedia so I more than likely have gotten the elements concerning SEAL training and other military stuff wrong. You are warned. Don’t get offended.

Another Warning: This is a Buddie fic but it includes intimate scenes (not sex) between Buck and Clay, if you are a Buddie purist, this is your warning. 

X-posted on  AO3

Inspired by a tumblr post by @theladyandthewolves​ (Sorry I forgot to add, I did the linky link thing in AO3 but forgot to add it here)

Summary: In which team finds out Buck has a husband, when said husband turned up out of a blue and asked for a divorce. 

********

We were almost beautiful A broken piece of art put on display But we were never possible Another perfect moment thrown away I know somebody out there will love you They'll be the forever we never were 'Cause we were everything that's right at the wrong time

I didn't wanna lose you Leave you with a broken heart But wherever we are, we're miles apart I know that we tried, but this is the last goodbye

Life is going good for Buck. He’s back at 118. His team forgave him and his best friend forgave him, and he’s on his way to forgiving himself. 2019 felt like a sucky year for him with the bombing, recovering from his injuries, the tsunami, the lawsuit, Eddie’s street fighting, Bobby’s being exposed to radiation and weeks of worrying about his found!father dying of either radiation poisoning, aplastic anemia, or some kind of cancer.  

Of course there’s no guarantee that 2020 is gonna be better, but Buck likes to feel optimistic about these things. He has to be since it feels like the rest of his found family are the gloom and loom type, so it’s his job to keep the spirits up or they’ll all fall into despair. He said as much to his team as they gather around the side of the fire truck, just having arrived for their shift.       

“No seriously look at what happened last year. I got that injury and I was admittedly surly for a while--”

“Oh you were more than surly, Buck.” Hen commented.

“Okay I was, but that’s not my point. My point was I not my usual happy self and you guys were all just affected by it. And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Not everything is about you, Buck.” Eddie said, shaking his head, though clearly amused.

“I’m just saying, I’m on to something here because all bad luck started with me being injured last year. So this year part my new years’s resolution is to generate enough positive energy to drive away all the bad luck you guys attract.”

“Yeah right, we are the trouble magnets,” Hen gestures to herself and the rest of the crew, “not you who’s pretty much in competition with Chim for the Idiot with the Most Death-Defying Experience Award.”

“Of course, I mean Chim is still winning in that,” Buck said smugly, “which pretty much proves my point.”

“Okay, Buck. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Chim shook his head, with a laugh.

The good natured ribbing continued until they all noticed a man standing by the entrance of the station. Dirty blond curls and a full beard, in tight henley and cargo pants, he looked out of place among the clean shaven firefighter crew but he walked inside with so much confidence that you’d think he owned the place. 

“Clay what are you doing here?” Buck asked as he walked towards the scruffy looking man. 

“Hi, Evan.” The man greeted as he met Buck half way, giving Buck a tight hug and, to the young firefighter’s surprise, a kiss on his cheek. Buck could feel the stares bore onto his back. “Sorry to drop in on you at work but I don’t have you phone number or home address.”

“You mean to tell me that years of working with CIA and you can’t even get my contact info?”

“I work as their muscle Evan, I don’t do the intelligence part.”

“We both know that’s bull, Clay. You speak six languages, you are more than just the muscle.”

“And you basically thought me five of those, though I speak nine now, not all fluently but I get by.”

“And you are still arrogant as ever.” Buck sighed, some things never changed. 

“Can we talk privately?” Clay asked when he noticed the peanut gallery behind Buck.

No. Buck thought, he didn’t really want to do this here in the station but it’s only the start of his shift and he can’t really leave so he said, “I can’t leave but we can talk inside, I got a couple minutes so it better be quick.”

***

Buck lead the man to the relative privacy that the locker room provides. It’s all glass enclosure and anyone from outside can see in but he knew his colleagues would know not to bother them or listen in. 

The moment they were inside the room, Buck turned his back towards the other man, taking a moment to close the door and gather his thoughts. Fucking Clay Spencer, six years and the man still has the ability to turn his day around, making him feel all out of sorts. Buck took a deep breath before facing his husband.

“Not to be morbid Clay, but I figured after I rang that bell the next time I’ll hear about you was when I get a death notification from a CACO officer.”

“Yeah I thought so too.” Clay admitted with a slight grimace. They were young, only 19 when they got married, but they both thought they’ll be together forever. “I mean I did promise ‘till death do us part. I always thought I’d at least fulfill the death portion of that promise. But I also thought I wouldn’t meet another person I’d want to marry again and I did. Her name’s Stella, she’s a grad student at Hudson State.”

“And now you want a divorce.”

“We were over years ago we just never got around to signing the papers for it.  I’m getting married in June so--”

“So what you figure you’d come to my place of work, greet me with a kiss like we last saw each other only this morning, not six years ago and what? Demand that I go sign the divorce papers so you could go on living your merry life?”

“Look Evan, I was an ass. Heck I still am, but I wasn’t the one who left. You did.”

“Let be real, we both know I couldn’t stay.” Buck said, because it was true. DADT was repealed but the prejudice lingers. When the instructors learned that yes Evan Spencer was related to Clay Spencer and no they weren’t brothers or cousins, well let’s just say things get ugly. “I was just holding you back. Being a SEAL was your dream.”

“And there was a time that it was yours too.”

“No, I-”  It never was. I did it to be with you is what Buck wanted to say but he knew that’s unfair to both of them so he said instead, “I did it because I don’t know what I want back then. But I what I did figure out is that I was never built for that kind of life, Clay.”

“I know. You were always too soft.” Clay commented. Buck glared which didn’t escape his husband’s notice. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Evan. I’m glad you never went through with the training. Of the two of us, you were always the saint--”

“And you are just digging a deeper hole, Spencer. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“I should, but you know that’s not really my style.”

“You saying it’s mine?” Buck challenged, eager for a fight for some reason, but Clay didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’re putting words into my mouth Evan.” Clay step in closer to him, invading Buck’s personal space. “I never thought any less of you when you quit training. I was actually relieved that you did. You were so determined when you told me you wanted to be a SEAL and I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. So much. Cause I knew it would break you in ways that I never wanted for you, in ways that would take the best part of you that I loved so much. It was why as much as I hate him, I had Dad pull some strings to get you out of your contract and discharged. I didn’t think you’d take that as a cue to walk away.”

“You think I’m fragile, Clay but I’m not.”

“No,” Clay denied, stepping even closer, close enough that Buck could feel the other man’s breath against his cheek as the SEAL look him in the eye and explained, “I treat you like you are fragile, because that’s how you treat something that’s precious. I’ll admit to that. But I know you are strongest person I’ve ever met, Evan. I loved that about you.” 

“Then why did you let go?” Buck said, his words are demanding but his tone is all but resigned.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Clay parried back, equally yielding. They both knew the answer to each other’s question, love isn’t enough to keep them together and that’s their reality. That doesn’t negate the magnetic attraction they felt towards each other.

The SEAL stepped even closer, their foreheads within a hair’s breadth of the other, as their lips slowly gravitated towards each other. Buck felt the brush of the other man’s dry lips against his own. The touch is so painfully familiar, but gone was the spark his memories insist had once accompanied such intimate gesture. Still Buck felt nostalgic and he was just about to give in and press back when he heard a knock. They sprung apart and Buck turned to the person at the door. Buck saw his best friend leaning against the doorway arms tight cross against his chest. 

“Buck, Cap wants you for the stand-up meeting.” Eddie said tersely informed Buck while glaring at the other man. “Upstairs kitchen. Five minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in two Eds.” Buck nodded with a strained smile. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

“I don’t mind but you gotta hurry or Cap would get pissed.” Eddie said before walking away, but not without directing one last glare at Buck’s visitor.

“Did he just call you, Buck?” Clay asked as soon as Eddie left the room.  “You change your surname back to Buckley? Since when?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but about two years ago after the DOD finally let me back stateside, before I started at the fire Academy. Just for work and my direct deposit bank, for now. I never got around to doing it for anything else. I guess I have to now.”

“You don’t have to. No law requires it of you.” Clay made to close the gap between them again only for Buck to step back. “It would be an unnecessary hassle.”

“You are getting married, Clay. To another person. You don’t get to act possessive and ask me to keep a name I’m half way to dropping.” Buck shook his head, clearly Clay hadn’t change a bit, still one with the need possessively attach his name to everything. The sound of a ladder truck returning reminded Buck of the meeting he was called to, “Look I really need to get going. Give me your phone.”

“Evan I-” Clay started but at the firefighter’s impatient glare, he reluctantly hands over his phone. Buck quickly typed in his contact information.

“There you have my contact number.” Buck handed the phone back and turned to leave, saying over his shoulders, “I also put in my mailing address, so you know where to send in the divorce paper.” 

“Wait, Evan--” Clay called after him, most likely noticing that Buck never put in his home address. “This is a P.O. box.” 

“Where I get my mails delivered to and I know you know how that works.” Buck walked away before the other man could launch another protest.

***

“So Buck who’s the hunk of meat?” Hen asked as soon as Buck reached the landing of the upstairs loft where the kitchen is located. His crew gathered around the kitchen island where Bobby was preparing breakfast, not at all looking like they are about to have any kind of job related meeting.

“I thought we were doing stand-up meeting?”

“No that was just Eddie here letting out the green eyed mons--Ouch!” Chimney’s explanation was interrupted by Hen elbowing him in the sternum.

“You look like you needed a save so I intervened, I didn’t know I’d be interrupting something.” Eddie remarked, a touch snidely.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. Clay was just um, saying goodbye.”

“I didn’t know friends say goodbye with a kiss.” 

“Clay’s not exactly my friend.”

“Well, he’s not family not with that kiss. What is he an ex-fling? A phase? Is that why he calls you Evan?” Eddie asked eyebrows raised and suspicious.

“Yeah I wondered about that too, we thought you said everyone just call you Buck.” Chim said, scratching his head, “I mean even your sister calls you Buck.”

“Not exactly an ex. And he’s not a phase!” Buck protested, offended at the word phase. At the surprised looks that his friends are giving him for his unusual outburst, he mellowed, shrugged and said, “I mean Clay is Clay. He always called me Evan. Ever since high school.”

“Why?”

“Um, Clay didn’t like that the name Buck is short for Buckley. Some sort of caveman reason I guessed.”

“Okay so the guy is more than a fling then?” Eddie prodded, not letting the topic die like Buck had silently asking him too, with his pointed looks. So much for best friend telepathy.

Buck sighed, resigned to admitting something he has been mum about ever since starting at 118. “Clay Spencer is my husband, or rather my soon to be ex-husband, he’s filing for divorce so.” 

It took a moment for his words to sink in and 

“Wait, what the fuck?! You were married?! And you didn’t tell us?!” Eddie asked sounding a little furious.

“To a man?!” Chim added, confounded and unable to think.

“And now you’re getting a divorce?” Bobby said calmly but the twitch of his eyebrow and the way he straightened up clearly betrayed his surprise.

“Wow my gaydar’s needs readjustment,” Hen shook her head, frowning. “I just thought you were hetero-flexible not full-on freewheeling.”

His team spoke one after another, all shocked at his revelation which granted was a little unexpected coming from him, a reformed self-diagnosed sex addict who’s afraid of commitment. 

“So what happened?” Hen asked being the first one to recover from the shock of Buck’s surprising revelation.

“Between Clay and I?” Buck asked then continued at Hen’s nod, “Well we were together since freshman year, in high school. Um- we bonded over having absent fathers. I thought we’d be together forever but Clay also wanted to join the Navy like his Dad, so we’ve always kept our relationship low key-ish until DADT got repealed. After that, we said fuck it, and got married. My dad got so mad when he found out, which was more because we were only nineteen back then, not because it was so gay which didn’t help of course but yes more because we were just kids when we got married,” Buck explained trying for casual, as he sat himself in the couch. “Anyways Clay enlisted and got into SEAL pipeline program. I got in a year after him, but I had to quit, we separated, the rest they say is history.”

“So that’s why two you broke-up? Because you quit SEAL training?” Bobby asked leaning on the railing across the couch Buck was seated at. Besides the captain is his best friend, Eddie, who has a blank look on his face that Buck couldn’t even begin to decipher. 

“Um he wanted to be a SEAL and I knew I was just holding him back so...” Buck trailed off, noticing how his team look at him with pity in their eyes, “Shit guys don’t look at me that way I’m not some broken piece of glass okay?”

When the pitying looks continued, and Bobby moved as if to comfort him, Buck said, “No, seriously guys, I’m okay. I’m not at all broken up about this at all, so you guys shouldn’t be either. Me and Clay were done years ago. It’s just we got lazy and didn’t get around to signing papers until now.”

“You don’t have to put on front with us, kid.” Chim said moving on to sit in the couch beside his while Hen moved to sit beside him. “We are family, heck you are practically my brother.”

“Chim’s right, Buckaroo. It’s okay to be not okay. We won’t think any less of you if you for it.” Hen added, laying a comforting hand on his shoulders.

“I’m seriously fine. I mean I’m not gonna lie and say it never affected me or that  it didn’t hurt. Because I did, years ago when first broke up, cause I really thought we were forever. But now? I’m not even sad or anything.”

“But if you are, you know that we are here for you, right?”

“I know that Bobby. And I appreciate it.” There was a prolonged silence that lingered for  a couple of minutes as they all just looking for words to say. Eventually Chimney, as always, broke that silence with a joking remark.

“Okay but seriously how did you land some one that hot?” Chim teased Buck.

“Chim seriously?! Your bi is showing.” Hen smirked. 

“What? I’m just saying that is one beast of a man. I’m just wondering what he saw in our Buck.”

“Hey, quit it hobbit,” Hen slapped her best friend in the arm, “Our Buck here is equally as beastly looking if not more.” 

“Hen, not that I don’t appreciate the vote of confidence because I truly do, but I don’t think ‘beastly’ is a look I aspire to project you know.”

“Joking aside, did you really go through SEAL training? Did you mean like BUD/s?” Chim asked, curious about Buck’s past but knowing the younger man would rather not talk about his soon-to-be ex-husband. At  Buck’s nod Chimney asked again, “Isn’t that only for Enlisted Navy?”

“You said you weren’t in the Navy.” Bobby added, confused.

“I wasn’t, I mean not really. I mean technically I was one but only for like less than 180 days? Which meant I got like an ELS.” Buck tried explaining, only garnering more confused looks. “Entry-Level Separation. I entered the program through SEAL Challenge Contract. I got through ‘Hell Week’ at BUD/s but I DOR’d a week after that. So it was like only give or take 155 days before I DOR’d. Which was why I don’t claim to be in the Navy because I barely was in it.”

“DOR?” Hen asked.

“Dropped on request. Clay I guessed heard about it when he was in SQT,” Buck started but had to clarify again, “er SEAL qualification training. Anyways, the instructors were about to shuffle me into the fleet as an enlisted sailor, which is usually what happens when a SEAL candidate drops out. But suddenly I got an offer that the brass would waive my Navy Enlistment contract if I would agree to work as a civilian linguistic analyst attached to a joint operation between the DOD and DEA that’s based in Chile. It was an unusual offer but I figured Clay’s father who’s a retired SEAL pulled some strings. I took the offer and spent four years bouncing around between bases in South America doing translation work.”

“Wait you said you bartender’d in South America, not Schneider’d you way through it.”

“What’s Schneider’d? And when did I say that?”

“Cocaine Wars,” Bobby said as if that alone explains it but of course Evan ‘as far as I’m concerned the world started when I was born’ Buckley didn’t get that reference, so Bobby had to explain further, “Schneider is the name of the actor who is an undercover DEA agent working in South America. And you told me when you were pulling that worm out of that guy who ate a lot of sushi.”

“I wasn’t an undercover agent, I only did translation work in a black site in South America but can’t actually say that in front of strangers so I said the first appropriate thing that came to mind.”

“Bartending is the first thing that came to mind?” 

“Well no not the very first thing... um stripping was actually but that seemed inappropriate too?” Buck said, scratching his head. At the incredulous looks he is getting from his team he defended,  “What?! Bartending is believable job I could have been doing. I mean Bobby did believe it.” 

“That’s not what--” Chim wanted to explain but was interrupted by the sound of the alarms going off. 

****

“You were awfully quiet after me telling you guys about Clay.” Buck said as soon as him and Eddie were left alone in the locker room. “You barely talked to me all day too. Is there a problem?”

“No.” Eddie replied, abrupt and clearly not wanting to talk about it but at seeing Buck’s pleading gaze, he relented, “Okay I admit I was a little upset because I thought by now we told each other everything. But then I get a slap in the face and realize I don’t know you at all. I mean I didn’t even tell me you were married.  Or that you ex-husband is a slimy squid.”

“I’m still technically married. And I believe military term is frogmen not squid.”

“Well maybe  in the Navy, in the Army they are slimy squids.” Eddie huffed.  “Seriously though, Buck. Why didn’t you tell me? I mean we talked about our exes before. You told me about Abby. You know about Shannon. Heck I even told you about Alex from boot camp. So I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t tell me about your ex-husband Clay.”

“It’s for the same reason you didn’t talk about your ex-wife back when I first asked you.”

“You asked me that before we got really close. And she’s not my ex-wife, she was my wife. There’s a difference.”

“Exactly, she wasn’t your ex-wife. Just like Clay isn’t my ex-husband. I didn’t talk about him like he is my ex because he isn’t.”

“You were separated, you said you didn’t see each other for six years.”

“I know that. I know in my head we are over and truly broken up,” Buck said while gesturing to his head then he laid his hand on his chest, “But here. Well here it’s stupid, because here there’s hope. So I didn’t talk about him like he’s my ex because then it would be like admitting that it’s truly over, no takebacksies over. I was over Clay but I guess I hadn’t reach that point where my heart’s willing to acknowledge it.”

“You dated a lot after him though, that’s like more than acknowledging it. That’s moving on.”

“It’s adapting a coping mechanism. An unhealthy one at that. I had a long list of one night stands because felt rejected and needed validation. Plus I like having sex but I was determined not to let anyone in again. Then I met Abby, who made me realize I crave intimacy not sex, she made me feel safe to love again, but she left before I could commit to loving her. Which was fortunate cause I don’t know how would get over it if she left me after I learned to love her.”

“I don’t think loving someone could be learned, Buck. Either you do, or you don’t.”

“Maybe so. But my point was I didn’t talk about him cause I thought I wasn’t over him yet. And I would have when I’m ready. I didn’t know when I just knew that talking about him before that would be like--”

“Like poking an open wound.” 

“Yes exactly like that.” Buck picked up that metaphor and expounded on it. “What I didn’t realize was that wound long scabbed over. And I left it thinking that if I picked on it, it would bleed again. Only to find out today that it’s all healed.”

“What was the kiss then?”

“The what?”

“The kiss I interrupted Buck.”

“I’m not sure but it felt like a goodbye.”

“I’m not an expert, Buck, but when he kissed you it looked more than just goodbye.” If Buck didn’t know better, he’d say Eddie sounded jealous as he said, “He’s all over you.”

“He isn’t. He kissed me but I’m telling you now, that kiss doesn’t feel like it meant anything to him. Or me. It’s not like what you think.”

“If you say so.” Eddie looked to Buck tryin g to see the truth in his eyes.

“I say so.” Buck said determined as held the other man’s gaze for a few moments, before looking away and shyly admitting, “Besides there is someone else I like.”

The words linger in the air between them as their eyes locked on to each other’s yet again; and slowly they gravitated towards each other without either knowing it. Their foreheads touched, nose brushing. The moment their lips brush, Buck felt the tingle in up his spine making him slightly weak in the knees. He held on to the older man’s waist to help himself stay upright. Eddie lifted his hand to caress the back of Buck’s head as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Buck can’t help the moan the escaped his lips. And Eddie took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue and explore the younger man’s mouth.  If it was up to Eddie it would have gone further further but Buck pulled away.

“I’m not--” Buck shook his head, trying to clear it from the haze. “I like you but you were just widowed, and I still need to get divorced.”

“Okay, but just so you know this,” Eddie said gesturing at the air between them, “this is gonna happen. I’ll be asking you out as soon as you drop the name Spencer.”

“Not if I  asked you first.”

“Fair enough. As long as I get to eventually marry you, that’s fine.”

“Sure as long as you don’t expect me to take your name.”

“Maybe I’ll take yours instead. Edmundo Buckley has a nice ring to it don’t you think.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Buck managed to spat out with a straight face. They both look at each other in the eye before laughing out loud at the name.

Fuck Edmundo Buckley sounds ridiculous, maybe just this once Buck would take one for the team and take Eddie’s name anyway. Evan Diaz after all sounded way better. 

[the-dark-swan]

On My Side

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

the Pandemic AU that literally no one asked for. i wrote the entire thing because of two lines of dialogue that popped into my brain (bonus points if you can guess which ones). 

i’ve never shared anything i’ve written for the TOG fandom on tumblr before so here *chucks story into the void and runs*

(also available on ao3)

“I swear to every god that is listening I will choke you next time I see you, Rowan Whitehorn,” Aelin snarled, leaning her face dangerously close to her computer’s camera.

The speakers emitted a cacophony of howling laughter. She saw Rowan in the little square showing his camera feed, a shit-eating grin on his face. A beat passed, as he waited for a pause in the din of noise. His grin turned feral and he replied, “Do you promise?”  

More laughter shrieked through the speakers, only broken by a choked gagging sound, no doubt from her cousin Aedion. “Could you guys keep it PG for more than 5 minutes at a time? I am begging you,” he groaned.

This all had started as an innocent way for them all to see each other again during their cities’ respective stay-at-home orders. Fenrys, ever the ring leader, had suggested in lieu of their typical March Madness bracket arguments, they could make brackets for other, more mundane things, then argue and vote on them via video chats. The first bracket they had done was MLM power-rankings based on the product and likelihood that Lorcan (the most cynical among them) could be convinced to join. It had taken them two hours before they had reached a conclusion, but for the most part it was goofy and civil.

Today’s debate was more personal: who among them was more likely to start a brawl in a bar. Instead of not wanting to be the one chosen, the group had immediately started vying for the position of most likely to.  The current debate was between Aelin and Lysandra. Rowan had just given his two cents that not only was Lysandra more volatile when drunk, she was also more likely to cause a fight.  Aelin was positively furious.

In the camera, Rowan spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Sorry, love, Lysandra is more likely to start a fight,” he knew she hated when he used pet names on her, “If the question was who is more likely to finish a fight, I would most certainly have picked you.”

“That’s it, Buzzard, I don’t care about social distancing…” Aelin leaped up and out of the screen.

Her friends couldn’t see her, but she stormed out of her apartment, practically ripping the door off its hinges. She took the steps to the third floor two at a time. One right turn and two left turns brought her in front of Unit 343. There was no resistance as she turned the handle and shoved the door open. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the rational part of her puzzled at what reason Rowan could possibly have for having his door unlocked.

Aelin stalked through the long hallway that opened into his loft apartment and found Rowan sitting on the ground, back against his couch, the laptop still open in front of him. Through the speakers, she could make out Fenrys’s voice.

“... twenty dollars says she spits directly into his eyes from Aedion. Lys has an additional five dollars down that Aelin will bring up the incident from New Year’s…”

Rowan reached forward calmly, pressing a button on his laptop, then finally raised his head to look at her. Pine green eyes roved up her body, making Aelin suddenly very aware that she was barefoot and actually wearing a shirt of his that she had stolen months ago.

“Was there something you needed to say?” he asked.

From the computer, someone asked, “Oh my god, Rowan, is she in your apartment?” to which Rowan responded by turning the volume down.

“Technically, you shouldn’t be here,” he added, his voice rumbling in that way that did funny things to Aelin’s heart.

Before she could stop the words, she shot back, “Technically, I thought you were supposed to be on my side, not Lysandra’s.”

“Did he mute them? I can’t hear anything,” a voice complained through the computer speakers.

He cocked his head at her, ignoring the laptop entirely. “You’d sound jealous if I didn’t know better.”

Aelin opened her mouth, but no words came. “Does anyone read lips?” Fenrys asked through the speakers.

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard ’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

Rowan went still, in that eerie, preternatural way of his. From the computer, someone murmured, “I think she just brought it up.”

The New Years’ Incident. Nausea rolled through her stomach every time she devoted any thoughts to it. The memory of Rowan yanking her hands away from his face, growling “Don’t touch me like that,” while everyone around them counted down the final seconds to midnight, was not a memory she liked to dwell on.

He rose to his full height, unfolding long, muscled limbs from where he sat on the floor, towering tall enough that Aelin swore he had his own gravitational pull. “Are we finally going to talk about it?”

In her chest, Aelin’s heart took off in a nervous gallop. Did she want to have it out with him over it, finally? Three months of carefully maintained distance from Rowan had been painful. Sidestepping him when he went to touch her, letting their inside jokes die on her tongue, sandwiching herself between Fenrys and Aedion at shared meals like they were bodyguards. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time they had been alone together since that night, despite living in the same apartment building.

Across the room, Rowan moved slowly, rounding the coffee table that separated them in measured, calculated steps, as if he was approaching startled prey. Aelin remained rooted to the floor, swaying a bit as he came within arm’s reach. This close, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry, Aelin.”

She shook her head, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “You don’t really even have anything to be sorry for. It was nothing.” In her head, ‘Don’t touch me like that’ played on a loop.

“It wasn’t nothing, Aelin. You won’t let me within three feet of you. And I miss you. Although, given the pandemic, maybe that has been for the best.” He paused for a beat, raising his hand out towards her. When she didn’t retreat, he moved closer, reaching for her hand and grasping it gently. She offered no resistance as he lifted it towards him and pressed it to the curve of his jaw.

Beneath her hand, his mid-day stubble bit into her palm. “Rowan,” she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“Lately, it feels like the world is ending, and I keep thinking how you might have never known how much I miss you and how sorry I am,” his voice cracked and he swallowed roughly. “I didn’t mean it, what I said. I got… I got scared, Aelin. You mean everything to me. Everything. I thought if I… if we… if we kissed, it would ruin everything. I couldn’t risk messing everything up and losing you, but then I did that anyways.”

Her body rocked into his gravity of its own accord, her other hand automatically bracing against his chest. Talking over the pounding of the blood rushing in her ears, she said, “You didn’t lose me. I trust you, always. And if friendship is all you can give-”

“No,” he interrupted gruffly. “No, Aelin. I’ve had three months to be honest with myself and this has never been just platonic.”

A shuddering breath stuttered through Aelin’s chest at his confession, hope clogging her throat, preventing any more words from escaping. Rowan left her hand on his face, moving his own to cup the back of her neck and tip her face further up. This close, she saw the way his pupils had swallowed most of the green of his irises. She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the movement.

Just as he started to drift towards her mouth with his own, a voice startled them both. “Do you think they’re kissing or fighting? Lorcan had ten dollars on a brawl, Elide had twenty on a make out.”

“Could you excuse me for one moment?” Rowan whispered, his breath ghosting across her face. Removing his hands from her, he marched over to where the laptop sat open on the coffee table, bringing his face back into view and unmuting it.

“If you would kindly stop interrupting us-”

“I’m sure there’s lots of talking-” the unmistakable voice of Lysandra quipped.

“Like I said, there's money down on fighting or fucking pick your-” Fenrys added unhelpfully.

“Shut up ,” Rowan growled, leaning his face nearly all the way into the camera. “If you could shut your traps and stop trying to profit off of your friends’ love lives, that would be great.” Aelin slapped her hands over her face, a blush spreading like wildfire across her face. Love lives? Love? She hadn't dared to acknowledge the way that word rattled around her brain when she looked at Rowan, yet here he was casually throwing it out into the world. Through her fingers, she saw Rowan note her reaction.

“Goodbye, fuckos.” He snapped the laptop shut unceremoniously.

His steps were near silent as he made his way back to her, wasting no time drawing her back into his arms. Aelin brought both her hands up to his face this time, letting her thumbs drag over his cheekbones. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, as if to remind her where this moment was headed.

“Did that word scare you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing about you could ever scare me. Like you said, I don’t think this has been platonic for a long time, if ever.”

He considered her again for a moment, eyes tracking across her features. “What if you deserve better than me?”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t deserve, Buzzard.”

“Gods, you’re such a brat,” he murmured, and then his lips were on hers.

[gunnerpalace]

Hi! Same anon as the previous one. Tbh, I agree wholeheartedly with you. Y'see I do ask rhetorically,too but i could really accept and understand how and why ppl can be oblivious to IchiRuki, and somehow felt that the 'canon' should suffice, even the most excruciating of all is the fact a number found the ending even acceptable (ships aside, too). Again, I could respect that. But it's my greatest bane when ppl ask 'why' and not be clear they are asking rhetorically because I literally will

provide you an actual answer. And I get it, it’s the reason why ppl find shipping wars toxic and silly. But then again, as human, conflicts are always part of us (partly because as social psych explains so, we are gravitated to the negative for that allows us to change and survive), and the reason why “logical fallacies” are coined in the first place. Human will always debate, and argue about something; the only thing we could change is how we approach the opposing views.

Again, I dont condone any way, shape or form of abuse and harm. In some certain extent, I could perhaps understand it’s much harder for some IH to approach the actual argument being there’s either too much noise, and trapped in their own island between sea of salt. Thus becoming too acquianted w/ few IH who shared the same thought until it became their views as the only truth (see, that’s why its important to have debates! it is what keep us grounded and fair! Just like you said)

Who am I to speak though? I never ever challenged anyone anyways. And as you said, you just have to understand things in every way you could possibly think of–endless ‘whys’. Which is where I agree in your reply the most–this silly fandom wars is just the black mirror to every truth that lies beneath human psyche–the dark and the grimy. Heck, being a psych major is like staring at dark hole–at times, good, but most just plain confusing, revolting even or just heartbreaking.

Sorry it’s been long, but for the final of this ask: let me tell how glad I was with IchiRuki fandom I found in tumblr. It was the saltiest I’ve ever been (im not generally a fandom person anyways) but it’s the himalayan salt–expensive and actually nutritive it really deepened my desire to become wiser in general. And you for your wonderful essays, critiques and whatnot. I definitively would love to talk with you more not only about IchiRuki but the wonders and nightmare that us humans! Kudos!

I have sitting in my drafts a post spelling out my thoughts on “canon” (and thus, the people who cling to it) in that as a concept it privileges:

officiality over quality when it comes to validity (thus violating Sturgeon’s law)

corporations (intellectual property rights holders) over fans, and thus capitalists over proletarians

hierarchical dominance over mutualist networking within fandom

curative fandom over transformative fandom

genre over literary content

plot over characters

events over emotions

It is notable that (1) generally degrades art as a whole, (2) generally advances the capitalist agenda, and (3–7) generally advances the dominance of men over women (as the genders tend to be instructed by society to view these as A. dichotomies rather than spectrums, and B. to ascribe gender to them and make them polarities). These form the sides of a mutually reinforcing power structure (in the typical “Iron Triangle” fashion) designed to preserve and maintain the status quo.

Who really benefits from say, the policing of what is or is not “canon” in Star Wars? Disney, first and foremost. And then whomever (almost certainly male) decides to dedicate their time to memorizing the minutiae of whatever that corporation has decided is “legitimate.”

One can imagine a universe in which fan fic is recognized by companies for what it is: free advertising. (Much like fan art already is.) Instead, it is specifically targeted by demonetization efforts in a way that fan art isn’t. Why? Because it demonstrates that corporate control and “official” sanction has no bearing on quality, and it is thus viewed as undermining the official products.

In the same way, by demonstrating that most “canonical” works are frankly shit, it undermines the investiture of fans in focusing on details that are ultimately errata (the events, the plot, the genre), which is the core function of curative fandom and the reason for its hierarchical structure. The people who “know the most” are at the top, but what they “know” is basically useless garbage. And those people so-engaged are, of course, usually male.

To “destroy” the basis of their credibility, and indeed the very purpose of their community, is naturally viewed by them as an attack.

(This is not to say that efforts to tear down internal consistency within established cultural properties are good unto themselves, or even desirable. For example, efforts to redefine properties such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, and Ghostbusters, for the sake of a identity-politics agenda have largely A. failed as art, B. failed as entertainment, C. failed to attract the supposedly intended audience, and D. failed to advance the agenda in question. Trying to repurpose extant media in the name of culture wars is essentially always doomed to failure unless it is done deftly and gradually.)

(At the same time, this also shows what I was talking about last time, with regard to people seeing whatever they want to see. You will see people complain that Star Trek and Doctor Who didn’t “used to be so political,” which is obviously nonsense. These shows were always political. What changed was how their politics were presented. For example, Star Trek has, since TNG, always shown a nominally socialist or outright communist future, but was beloved by plenty of conservatives because they could [somehow] ignore that aspect of it.)

Of course, almost no one is seriously suggesting that one side of the spectrums outlined above be destroyed, rather merely that a new balance be struck upon the spectrum. But, as we have seen time and again in society, any threat to the status quo, whether that be 20% of Hugo Awards going to non-white male authors or the top income tax rate in America being increased by a measly 5.3% (from 28.7% to 34%… when the all-time high was 94% and for over 50 years it was above 50%) is a threat. This is why, for example, Republicans are out there branding AOC as a “socialist” when her policies are really no different at all from a 1960 Democrat who believed in FDR’s New Deal. (Which they, of course, have also demonized as “socialism.”)

(As an aside, all this ignores the fact that most of the “literary canon” of Western civilization, or at least English literature… is Biblical or historical fan fic.)

And this is when I finally get to my point.

Those people out there who denigrate and mock shippers and shipping, the people who hurl “it reads like fan fiction” as an insult, and so on, are the people who benefit from and enjoy the extant power structure. You will see the same thing with self-identified “gamers” complaining about “fake girl gamers.” Admitting that the hobby has a lot of women in it, and a lot of “casuals,” and is indeed increasingly dominated by “non-traditional demographics” is an affront to the constructed identity of being a “gamer.” They are “losing control.” And they don’t like it.

This exact same sort of population is what the “fanbase” of Bleach has been largely reduced down to through a slow boiling off of any actual quality. Of course they’re dismissive of people who are looking for anything of substance: their identity, their “personal relationship” with the franchise, is founded on a superficial appreciation of it: things happening, flashy attacks, eye-catching character designs, fights, etc.

(What this really boils down to, at heart, is that society at large has generally told men that emotions are bad, romance and relationships of all kinds are gross, and that thinking and reflecting on things is stupid. So of course they not only don’t care about such things, but actively sneer at them as “girly” or “feminine,” which is again defined by society at large as strictly inferior. And this gender divide and misogyny is of course promulgated and reinforced by the powers that be, the capitalists, to facilitate class divisions just like say racism generally is.)

(The latest trick of these corporate overlords has been the weaponization of “woke” culture to continue to play the people off one another all the time. “If you don’t like this [poorly written, dimensionless Mary Sue] Strong Female Character, then you are a racist misogynist!” They are always only ever playing both sides for profit, not advancing an actual ideological position. It is worth noting that there was a push by IH some years ago to define IR as “anti-feminist” for critiquing Orihime for essentially the exact same reasons [admittedly, not for profit, but still as critical cover].)

Which makes it very curious, therefore, that the most ardent IH supporters tend to be women. (Though there are more than a few men, they seem to tend to support it because it is “canon” and to attack it is to attack “canon” and thus trigger all of the above, rather than out of any real investment.) I think there are a number of reasons for this (which I have detailed before) and at any rate it is not particularly surprising; 53% of white women voted for Trump, after all.

What we are really seeing in fandom, are again the exact same dynamics that we see at larger and larger scales, for the exact same reasons. The stakes are smaller, but the perception of the power struggle is exactly the same.

Of course, the people who are involved in these things rarely think to interrogate themselves as to the true dimensions and root causes of their motivations. People rarely do that in general.

Putting all that aside, I’m glad that you have found a place you enjoy and feel comfortable, and thank you for the kind words, although I am not of the opinion that there is anything poignant about the non-fiction I write. It is, as I keep trying to emphasize, all there to be seen. One just has to open their eyes. So, it’s hard for me to accept appreciation of it.

Anyway, don’t feel shy about coming off of anon rather than continuing to send asks. We don’t really bite.

[spiffysixxsense]

Hello annoying best friend here to fulfill my duty by asking you to answer all of the cute asks

angel; do you have a nickname?

not really. my name is already short and I don't have a prominent quality to nickname me after. The only person who refers to me as anything other than my name is my boyfriend, but I don't think “babe/baby” really counts as a nickname lol

awe; how old are you?

24

baby; favorite color?

dark teal (blue-green? I've never found a good name for my favorite color)

bloop; spirit animal?

so because I didn't have a good answer for this, I decided to google a quiz to find out, lol. My answer was a deer. here's why;

When you have the deer as spirit animal, you are highly sensitive and have a strong intuition. By affinity with this animal, you have the power to deal with challenges with grace. You master the art of being both determined and gentle in your approach.

The deer totem wisdom imparts those with a special connection with this animal with the ability to be vigilant, move quickly, and trust their instincts to get out the trickiest situations

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

i don't really have a favorite book, i don't read much outside of school (I wish i did)

movie: A Beautiful Mind

song: oh dear lord i cannot pick just one, but all-time favorite band of mine is Shinedown

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

a little stuffed dog that looked like Kipper from the TV show, I still have him :)

breeze; most precious childhood memory?

lmao what came to mind was when i pledged to never drink, smoke, or say bad words. two out of fucking three ain't bad i guess. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?

(honestly neither but) fairies

bubbles; do you have a best friend?

given the asker, i would say yes :) also i am lame and my boyfriend is also my best friend 

buttercup; showers or baths?

S H O W E R S. hate baths!

butterfly; dream destination?

I've never had a huge desire to travel honestly. like sure i could say Italy or Greece look beautiful, but the actual act of traveling overseas really stresses me out lol. so i would have to say more like upper midwest, like Maine, in the fall time for all the pretty trees.

buttons; are you religious or spiritual?

i am neither

calm; favorite scent?

anything fruity - pineapple, mango, berries, apples. at least in terms of what candles i like lol.

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?

i do not remember anything from last night - the last dream i remember involved my boyfriend, dad and i being lost up north lol

charming; have you ever been in love?

currently 

cozy; eye/hair color?

hazel / brunette 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

the 1970′s for the fashion

cupcake; favorite flower/plant?

love me a good succulent

cute; what did you get on your last birthday?

well this last birthday was amidst quarantine, so I got some candles and granola (my boyfriend knows me well lol)

cutie pie; most precious item you own?

i have no idea? what an odd question? probably some stuffed animal?

cutsie; what makes you happy?

picnics, alone time, my boyfriend, my cat choosing to cuddle with me.

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

I really cant think of a time I've ever felt truly free. maybe when i drove myself to school earlier this year & didn't have to wait for someone to pick me up? 

daydream; how do you want to be remembered?

as a light in others lives. happy, bubbly. things i currently am not

daylight; favorite album of all time?

gosh these dang music questions. well, Nickelback - All the Right Reasons was the first album i ever bought myself. then maybe Shinedown - The Sound of Madness (i cant pick one OKAY)

dear; zodiac sign?

Taurus 

delightful; concerts or museums?

concerts

dimples; have you ever written a letter?

yes? this question makes me feel old, lol. 

dobby; dream job?

criminologist. some way to be reducing the mass incarceration rate in the US. 

doll; how do you like to dress?

comfy, v necks and leggings. As i have gotten older i have slowly wanted to be more feminine i think, because i really want some sundresses for summer lol

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?

one! when i was 12ish, i swear i saw a reflection of a uniformed man (like old school soldier uniform - blue blazer with gold cufflinks) behind me in the glass of my snakes tank at the time. it was weird because the only reason i even looked that way was because my snake started shaking his tail against the glass, something that corn snakes do when they are scared, but also something that in his entire life had never done unprompted ever. 

dreams; do you want or have any tattoos?

want yes, have no

drizzle; do you believe in aliens?

100%. no way we are alone in this universe

euphoric; talk about someone you love.

he makes my days so much better :)

fairy; do you have a pet?

I have one little old kitty :)

fluffy; ocean or mountain?

to vacation, ocean. to live, mountain

forever; where do you feel time stop?

the secretary of state? lol

froglet; are you a good plant owner?

I've never owned a plant lol

garden; how many languages do you know?

one :(

gem; who are your favorite tumblrs?

@cy-ne-fin 

giggles; what is your aesthetic of choice?

sepia photography/old books that have yellowed into sepia. or fresh greenery on white marble. 

glittery; do you like anons? why/why not?

i don't really get any anymore, but as long as they are nice or just questions/venting, im down. don't be offended if i never answer though, for some reason i never get Tumblr notifications lol

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourself

im compassionate

im empathetic (which is similar but im struggling to get to 5 lol)

im goal-oriented

im determined (once i have said goal. again, related lol) 

i guess i like my lips/lip shape

heart; silk or lace?

lace

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?

tea. iced, black or green really, with sugar. 

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?

bird watching because it means i am probably alone and in nature as opposed to somewhere in a crowd of people. and i wont feel creepy for watching the birds lol

hunnybunch; what sounds help you sleep?

white noise, a fan running. if that's not enough, i enjoy asmr. if i am really struggling/having anxiety, i will look up sleep stories from the headspace app on youtube (life hack to not have to pay for the app lol)

jewel; what’s your favorite kind of weather?

to be outside, i enjoy just warm enough to be comfy in pants and a t-shirt (so like 65F-ish) and sunny.To be inside, i love when it is cooler (like 50F?) and raining. I love the look, sound, and smell of rain but it is usually just inconvenient to be in. 

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?

well now all days are the same for me, #quarantine, so the same thing i do every day, just about nothing, lol

joy; do you laugh loudly or giggle more?

i guess laugh loudly because i am a loud person in general. i have a deep voice

kinky; do you blush easily?

i don't think so, my embarrassment turns into sweat, not blush, lmao

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?

i guess being proposed to someday? but i don't have a certain dream way of it happening, just the fact that its happening is enough for me lol. id enjoy if someone (cough Elle or also maybe Michael lol) were secretly filming and/or taking photos of it? I am not sure how you'd manage that though

kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?

late at night when everything is quiet

ladybug; what’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad?

old school three days grace (one-x album in particular)

love; what is your favorite season and why?

i always gravitate to fall for the leaves and pumpkin patches. but honestly, i think my favorite season is spring. i love the newly budding trees and flowers, the feeling of renewal, the release from the horrible Michigan winter lol, but most importantly, spring time for my whole life as of yet has always meant that school is over for the semester! as opposed to the fall when the semester starts. this is very long winded but spring final answer lol

lovey; what is your favorite flavor of macaron and ice cream?

I've never had a macaron and blue moon ice cream 

magic; what are five flaws you have?

ooooo boy

im short tempered/angry too much 

im unmotivated (which is confusing maybe because i said i am determined earlier. you see, once i HAVE a goal i feel determined to finish it. but i am unmotivated to create said goals, lol) 

im nonconfrontational to a fault where i always put others’ feelings before my own

i let fear of change stop me from ever taking risks/ am anxious

i am stubborn and sometimes have a hard time admitting i am wrong

moonlight; do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks?

this depends - screw pastels. warm neutrals for makeup purposes, but cool darks for aesthetic or decor purposes

munchkin; what do you look for in your significant other?

someone who feels like home. I am not entirely sure how else to explain that. you just feel peace and content with them. 

paddywack; how would you describe a perfect date?

something that allows you to only be with your date - so like a picnic or hike or just a walk even. my boyfriend and i liked to walk around in the fall for me to take pictures of leaves while he played pokemon go (man i miss the pokemon go summer and i have never even PLAYED it, it was just so fun to be with him while he played)

pebbles; how do you spend free time by yourself?

on youtube usually

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. if your family is toxic for whatever reason, you do not owe them your time strictly because they are family. 

pretty; do you like to cook or bake more?

cook, im not super into sweets & i want to enjoy the final product

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?

normal? like its legible but its not pretty or cute

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?

no:( wish i could play bass or drums

prinky; how do you relieve stress?

i don't :)

i really don't have an answer other than solving whatever is stressing me out, lol. i wish i had more mechanisms to calm me down but nothing i have tried has ever really worked

pumpkin; what is your favourite kind of fruit/vegetable?

you know these favorites questions are hard for me lol. right now, i am loving watermelon, but i also love most fruits. kiwis! vegetable, i feel like i have to say potato lol

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?

lol the last thing i read had to be some academic text, so that's boring

roses; what is the most significant event in your life so far?

meeting Alex i guess, it changes my whole life path to have someone you want to do life with 

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

quarantine? lol

shine; art or music?

music is art.

shimmer; do animals tend to like you?

i think so. Elle’s dog griffin loves me for some reason lol

smitten; do you collect anything?

not really

smoochies; how many pillows do you sleep with?

4

snuggle; what is your favourite candy?

jolly ranchers 

snuggly; do you have a camera? if so, what kind?

nope

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?

nope

spooky; sunrise or sunset?

sunset

sprinkles; do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?

headphones

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

Spongebob probably. unless we are talking like really tiny, toddler age, then Winnie the pooh

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.

i live in a 2 bedroom apartment, there arent any spots. lol. my bed i guess

soothe; digital or vinyl?

i mean digital for convenience but vinyl for aesthetic 

squeezed; who do you miss right now?

i mean the only person i really actively miss ever is Alex. @cy-ne-fin sometimes, but i have also grown used to living away from each other

sugary; what traits do you value most in friends?

loyalty, honesty, & humor

sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?

if i must pick, practical. 

sweet; do you find it easy to open up?

absolutely not. i feel like a burden with my feelings even though i shouldn't 

sweetie; do you like kids? if so, do you ever want to have any?

honestly not really. am on the fence still about ever having any 

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

not really

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?

i am as average as they come man, nothing is unique about me lol

tootsie; what kind of friend are you?

like a background friend? like i am not very social, so we do not have to talk every day to be friends. so like im here if you need me, but i enjoy alone time. 

treasure; what was something that made you smile today?

the way my boyfriend looks at me, & as i was working on this my cat came to cuddle, which i gave as an answer earlier before he jumped up here :)

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?

night owlllllll

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?

the power to heal those who are hurting (including myself)

whimsical; do you prefer doing stuff at home or going out?

home home home home

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?

not anymore, i did in high school/early college years. not I've stopped caring

wiggly; are you a messy or tidy person?

messy? kinda in the middle really. 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?

my state, sure. my city in particular is definitely pretty boring

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?

I've never seen one :(

[rami-hoe]

Confessions (Part one)

Pairing: Josh x Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

CW: jealousy

I sat lost in my thoughts on the couch in Josh’s basement. We sat next to each other, the movie on the TV serving only as background noise. Josh was staring at his phone, scrolling through his Instagram most likely. My attempts to focus on the movie were thwarted by the gentle, repetitive way Josh ran his fingers through my hair. He was so enthralled in his screen, I was sure he didn’t realize he was doing it, but I couldn’t ignore the sensation. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. This was all I had. Small, insignificant moments. I took advantage of these moments when they came, revelled in them. Tonight, Josh might be on a date without someone else. He might kiss her, take his clothes off for her, have sex with her. But now, in this instant, he was mine. His, though distracted and unconscious, belonged to me.

His text chime rang out and my flitted over to the phone. His screen was too dark for me to see who the text was from, but I made my assumptions when his fingers stopped moving. He moved his arm away from me and brought it down so he could text with both hands. Just like that, my brief moment with him was over. Someone else was more deserving of his attention, and I was left forgotten. I lifted my head off his shoulder and sat up straight. My knees gravitated towards my chest, and my eyes dropped to his phone once again. The name on the top of his screen, Kate, wasn’t one I recognized. She must be a new addition to his ever growing list. An image of her placed itself in my mind: model tall, long shiny hair, eyes like diamonds, cheekbones sharp enough to cut. I saw her, this woman I had never met, smiling up at Josh with perfect red lips, batting her long eyelashes at him, pulling her shoulders back so her gravity defying breasts stood at attention. The picture I had of her wasn’t real. It wasn’t even plausible. The woman in my mind was impossible without airbrushing, three hours with a professional makeup artist, and plastic surgery, but she was real to me. She existed. I saw her as clearly as I saw Josh. I saw him taking her out on nice dates, kissing her, climbing into bed with her, falling in love with her. I saw him looking at her with both adoration and desire, love and lust. That sick feeling bubbled up in my stomach, a symptom of my own imagination.

I slid across the couch cushions to put some distance between me and Josh. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction when I moved. My chest tightened. My heart felt like it was in a vice. And then he smiled. He smiled down at his phone, at her, and the pressure began to build behind my eyes. I turned my face away from him- This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had always managed to stay dry-eyed around Josh before, why couldn’t hold it back now? I leaned down and grabbed my shoes off the floor. The gesture was sudden enough for Josh to take notice.

“What’re you doing?” He asked as I pulled the shoes on.

I tried to shove the lump in my throat down before I spoke. “I gotta go home.” My voice was thick despite my attempts to steady it. “Everything alright?” The hand holding his phone dropped to his lap.

“Yep.” I jumped off the couch and grabbed my bag from the floor, but before I could make my escape Josh got up and blocked my exit. “What’s wrong?”

I found a dark spot on the wall to fixate on. “Nothing’s wrong,” I said. I turned to the side and tried to brush past him, but his hand closed around my bicep and spun me back to him. His concerned eyes made my stomach turn. I yanked my arm away from him and he recoiled, his brow furrowed and lips parted.

“What’s your problem?” He asked.

“I don’t have a problem,” I snapped.

Josh tilted his head to the side and reached out for me again. I exhaled as his hand ran down my arm with oh so much care. “Talk to me,” he said.

“Why do you do that?” I asked. The tears in my eyes blurred his face.

“Do what?” I hated how confused he was, that he had never thought about this the way I had. I should have shut up and walked away then and there, but my mouth had a mind of its own.

“Touch me like that,” I said.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you actually give a shit about me.” A tear hit my cheek and I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You do this- you put your arm around me, stroke my hair, touch my arm like you’re… Interested, or whatever.” His hand dropped from my arm. Through the blur, I could see him staring at me. I willed myself to stop talking, but my mouth continued to move. “But then you go and text some other girl. And that’s fine. I mean it’s- you can talk to whoever you want, but… Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” My face flushed with red hot embarrassment. I wanted to run and hide, but my feet felt like they had sunk into the floor. The carpet latched onto the soles of my feet and held me hostage while Josh’s wide eyes threatened to burn a hole in my forehead.

“So… You… I didn’t think- I mean, we’ve been friends forever.” Every stammered word was like a knife twisting in my gut. I wanted to sink into the ground never to reemerge. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I laughed and forced myself to meet his gaze. “Like you said, we’ve been friends forever,” I said, painfully aware of how bitter I sounded. “You’ve never looked twice at me, Josh.”

“That’s not true.” The attempt to placate me fell flat.

“Come on, Josh,” I said. “I’m not exactly your type.” I had spent enough time watching him flirt his way through every room to know the kind of women he went for. And to know I wasn’t one of them. Josh leaned back and furrowed his brow. “Yes you are!”

I blinked. “What?” Josh folded his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders in. It was a subtle enough change in body language that it would go unnoticed by a stranger, but not by me.

“I mean- shit, if you’d told me…” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “God, I’m fucking crazy about you. I thought you knew that.”

My breath caught in my throat. I had to force myself to release it. “But you didn’t- I mean you never-”

Josh interrupted my stuttering. “You know me better than anyone,” he said. “After all the shit you’ve seen… It blows me away that you even want to be friends.” If I hadn’t been so stunned, I would have protested his self-deprecation. “But if I’d known you wanted more-” he took a step towards me “-I would’ve given it to you.” I swallowed hard, staring up into Josh’s eyes, searching their depths for his intentions. I didn’t have to search very long. He closed the gap between us and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, as if he was afraid to apply any pressure, but it ignited my nerves all the same. His hands drifted up to my waist, just grazing the fabric of my shirt. I held onto his arms, keeping him from getting too far away when he pulled back. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

A smile spread across my face. “And you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say something that cheesy.” Josh snorted. “That was like line from a made for TV romcom.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “How about this: you’re the only person I can imagine myself being with. Not just a fling or a one night stand, but actually being with.”

I laughed. “Change the pronouns and that would make an excellent Tumblr post.” I wrapped my arms around his necks, playing with the ends of his hair.

“It may be cheesy, but it’s true,” he said as I grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down to me. He laughed against my lips and wrapped his arms around my waist. I knew would never get tired of having his arms around me.

[timetoresurface]

POLYGLOT (3) / JJK

The prefix poly- comes from Greek and means “many” or “multi-.” The last part of the word comes from the Greek term glōtta, meaning “language” or “tongue." = a person who knows and is able to use several languages.

Word: I’m no writer and English ain’t my mother tongue, but I’ll try my very best to make this as great as I possibly can. I’ll try to be your polyglot and put my weird romantic dreams into words.

I’ve never experienced love like this on Tumblr. Thank you for reading, liking and reblogging my baby. There is also some more dialogue in this part, please don’t cringe while I’m still learning how to be as real life as possible.

Pairing: reader x Jungkook Genre: romance Warnings: none Word count: 2374 words

Summary: Your academic background consists of a wide range of languages. You only studied Korean with a linguistic point of view in mind, as Hangul is a perfect phonetic language. Learning a new culture and their music always excited you so when an opportunity arrises to be a translator in Korea you didn’t even hesitate for a second. No, you immediately booked your one way ticket without even being certain that you had the job.

PART (1) / PART (2) / / PART (4) / PART (5) / PART (6)

After the night you had all spend together it became easier for you to feel comfortable around them. They had shared funny anecdotes that had filled the room with laughter. They also talked about some of the hardships of being in their position, they can barely poop without someone noticing and stirring up a little drama. It drives them crazy from time to time but to them it is worth it. Which is the most important thing, you guess.. You could never live like that but you weren’t an idol. You were just you. Translating your way through the world.

“Y/N can you film our secret handshake?” Halsey asked you nicely. She and Namjoon had been practicing for what felt like hours. They had to create and perfect their little shake. You took her phone and started filming after giving a clear sign for them to start.

Your eyes wondered over to the youngest of BTS. He was holding Taehyung’s little dog while looking like a snack himself. He had just changed into a new set of clothes and the white T-shirt seemed to be handmade for him. Like his body was the only body allowed to wear that shirt. Yes, that shirt was that strong. Or maybe it was Jungkook. Halsey took back her phone and went to chat with Namjoon about something. Everyone seemed busy so you naturally gravitated toward the puppy.

“How cute.” Was the only thing you could say while holding out your hand to pet the little man. Your eyes looked pleadingly in the direction of Taehyung and he only seemed to encourage your behavior.

“You can pet him. He likes people.” His words were barely said and your hand had found its way toward Yeontan. You started to stroke it gently not wanting to touch Jungkook by accident. Which was really difficult as the puppy itself wasn’t that big. Every time you unexpectedly touched Jungkook’s arm you felt him tense up beneath your touch. 

“He’s really tiny.” You said. Taehyung had left and you were alone with Jungkook. He looked a bit panicked while just nodding his head to your remark. “Do you think he will get any bigger?” You asked him curiously while your eyes remained on the little dog. You thought he was shaking his head but you weren’t sure so you looked up and your eyes locked for a second. The moment his brown eyes connected with yours he looked away. It felt like you were an ugly troll that couldn’t be directly looked at. You never thought you could understand the frustration behind the greek mythology character Medusa, but here you were thinking she had it easy. At least she turned people into stone while you had ti endure the awkward glance.

“You want to hold him?” He asked you while offering you Yeontan. You nodded your head and suddenly a wild puppy was in your arms. The little dog looked a little bit lost in your hold but started to relax as soon you started to pet him. 

“He isn’t rea-“ you started to say but Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Where did he go? Why did he leave you with a dog that is not yours and you had just met. Luckily for you Taehyung was a good father and immediately came to your rescue.

“He was needed for a little touch up.” Tae knew it was a lie and you knew it was a lie so did it still count as a lie? 

“Yeontan is a real ladies man.” You said while Yeontan tried to lick your face.

“Yes, he gets all the girls. It’s a shame he will never know the real struggles and rewarding hard work to get a girl.” 

“I don’t think you know either. You just have to get into the streets of Seoul and you can find a girl willingly to be your woman.” you liked to joke around and Taehyung seemed to enjoy your banter and played along.

“A willing girl is not necessarily what we seek.” He quirked an eyebrow.

“What is it that you seek my dear Tae?”

“I still haven’t figured that one out myself. When I find the answer you’ll be the first I’ll tell..” You both started laughing and Yeontan started to bark and reach for Taehyung.

“He’s a real daddy’s boy. Barely leaves your side for more than five minutes.” Taehyung grabbed the puppy out of your arms and started to kiss his little baby.

“It’s because he knows he has to cherish every moment with me as I’m more away out in the world than home.” He looked sad but the love in his eyes for the little dog were genuine. You were a bit jealous that he had someone to love so deeply.

“You really do know how to make a light and airy moment heavy with regrets and uncertainty.” You remarked.

“What can I say, it is a gift. I thought a European girl like you would appreciate my gift.” His smile returned to his face and it gave his eyes that extra spark. He was a really good-looking boy.

“Oh we do, but we also like to laugh. A European girl is even harder to decipher, or that’s what I’ve been told.” You both laughed but were interrupted.

“Have you dated a lot of people?” Jungkook suddenly appeared next to you and you had no clue where he came from and how long he had been listening. His eyes were desperately searching for yours.

“I’m in my twenties. Of course I’ve dated people but I don’t know what you deem as a lot and I don’t know what you consider dating.” You said bitterly. He did leave you fifteen minutes ago with a dog that wasn’t yours. Taehyung started coughing and Yeontan saw an opportunity to escape. Tae immediately excused himself with a huge grin on his face while running after his son. Jungkook on the other hand was quiet. He seemed to wait for more.  “Have you dated a lot of people?” You asked him.

“I can give you the exact same answer as you gave me.” The conversation had to be continued as Hyun Shik entered the room and started to give orders.

“Please, let’s have fun for our last scene. When this is finished the filming will be done and history will have been made. Be proud. Stay strong and please don’t break anything.” He looked at Namjoon for the last part, who tried to ignore his last remark. Everyone ran to his position and you joined them toward the set. Somewhere at the side there was a chair for you to be comfortably seated in while the 7 boys and Halsey were working hard to get the dance right in front of the camera. 

After the filming was done everyone was tired and it was already past one in the morning. Hyun Shik made its way over to you.

“Will you get home safely? I can drive you home so you don’t need to take a cab.” You could barely speak so you just nodded your head. You weren’t necessarily needed so early in the morning because Halsey was only scheduled after lunch but you felt the extra support was needed. He guided you toward the parking-lot with is hand hovering at your back. Once inside there were only three cars left as everyone had rushed home as soon as the shooting had ended. Only Jungkook was to be seen standing next to his car. 

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought I saw you leave about half an hour ago.” Hyun Shik remarked after spotting Jungkook. He had changed into black jeans and a long black hoodie that hid his extremely well built body. It didn’t hide everything but you could imagine what was underneath. 

“I live near Y/N so I thought I could drive her home.” He tried to look confident but you were sure he didn’t know where you lived and definitely not if it was close to him.

“Yeah, you are right. I live all the other way so maybe that is more logical. Do you mind driving with him Y/N? He does live closer to you than I do.” If you remembered correctly Hyun Shik only lived a ten minute drive from you which is definitely not all the other way, but you simply nodded. Feeling a bit excited to share a private moment with Jungkook.

“Let’s go.” Was all that the young boy stated and that was all that Hyun Shik needed to hear to start walking to his car alone. 

We got into the car and we both fastened our seatbelts. He put the engine on and simply asked “So where do you exactly live?” 

“I knew you didn’t know where I lived.”

“I remember you saying over at my place that it wasn’t far from were you lived. You didn’t want anyone to call you a cab or drive you home after dinner. So yes, I don’t know where you live exactly but I do know the area as I seem to live there too.” He tried to explain himself and you were surprised he remembered so much. 

“Yes, we are practically neighbors. You can just drive home and I will walk from there.” The only reason you said something that dumb was so he could protest. A girl shouldn’t walk alone so late at night blabla, you can spot that exact scene in every romantic comedy. The real world is nothing like a movie and blame it on all the Korean TV-shows you had seen but silently you had hoped he would be more galant. 

“We never got to finish our conversation from before.” He suddenly remarked.

“I didn’t know you could actually hold up a conversation with me.” Why were you so on edge? You felt so nervous and insecure it made you feel annoyed and the only outlet you had seemed to be him. Apparently he didn’t seem to mind your rudeness. 

“I’m a bit shy around new people. I’m sorry.” You would be lying if his little confession didn’t make your ice cold heart melt a little bit. 

“Well, what do you want to know?” His hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, making his knuckles white. It was fascinating to watch him drive. His eyes were focused on traffic and it gave you a good chance to study his mannerisms. He couldn’t keep his fingers from tapping along to the music and his leg never stopped bouncing.  

“What do you want to know as you were the first one to start the conversation?” On the outside you looked confident but on the inside not so much. You stopped looking at him as your hands seemed to be more interesting at this point.

“I’m just going to tell something about myself and maybe afterwards you can figure out if I’m worth it to talk too about this kind of things.” He looked expectantly at you and you simple nodded your head. He saw your nodding head as a sign to continue.

“Well, I have dated girls before. No I’m not gay but I definitely don’t mind if people are. I feel like being an idol most certainly impacted my view on dating. Sometimes dating might be locking eyes with the same girl at award shows three times in row. Or sometimes dating is meeting once and never even touch each other and you really want a second date but neither has the time. Sometimes dating is a quick kiss and touch in a barely locked room.” During his speech he never looked over at you. He only stared at the road ahead or at the bright red light in front of you.

“I don’t think your kind of dating is weird. Even if you’re not an idol, dating in your twenties is something like you explained. Sometimes you like each other but the timing just isn’t right. Sometimes the other person doesn’t like you and your just wasting time.” It felt nice to talk about something like this with him. You were scared the boys might’ve never really touched a girl or have never been in a relationship. It made you feel more at ease to know they hadn’t just thrown away their teenage years without some experimenting.

“I don’t want to waste time.” He silently confessed.

“Nobody wants to waste time, Jungkook. Sometimes you only know after everything is over that you could’ve done something better.”

“Have you experienced something like that?”

“On multiple occasions but it felt real when it was happening so I don’t regret a thing. Every crush or person I liked has left an impact. They made me who I am today.”

The rest of the car ride was silent. It was peaceful. You had both said what you wanted to say and the conversation you had started hours ago was finally finished. You started to recognize the neighborhood Jungkook was driving through.

“You can drop me off somewhere around here if that is possible.” You said after passing the entrance of your apartment building. He immediately pulled over and parked at the side of the road.

“I’ll walk with you. It is never safe for a young woman like yourself to walk alone at night in a strange city.” It felt like your heart skipped a few beats.

“I can walk alone. You don’t need to waste time and to be honest, this area of Seoul doesn’t feel as lonely as before.” He looked straight into your eyes and the whole world felt like it stopped. His eyes scanned your face while a smile crept on his face.

“i’m glad you’re feeling home but I could never forgive myself if I let you walk all by yourself  so late at night.” He started to unbuckle his seatbelt and opened his door. “Let’s go Y/N.” Was the last thing he said before slamming his door and walking over to your side. You watched him stride over to your side. His hair was still styled but some strands started to have a life on its own in the wind. Never before had you seen someone so good-looking without any effort as him before, and it scared you.

“Will you please get out? It is starting to look weird just standing here by your door.” He said after opening your door. You finally got out of your trance and tried to get out of the car with your seatbelt still on. This got a laugh out of Jungkook and your face reddened. You tried to hide your blushing cheeks while unbuckling your seatbelt.

“So where do you live exactly?” He said while you got awkwardly out of his car. You simply pointed toward the right direction and started walking. It was only a five minute walk but it felt like hours. You stopped at the entrance of your building and turned your head toward Jungkook.

“Thank you for driving me home and also walking me home.”

“It was no problem. It is nice spending time with someone like you.” Blame it on the lack of sleep or blame the eyes of the boy before you for not thinking straight, but the following you really said and immediately regretted: “What is that even supposed to mean? Spending time with a subordinate?”

“To be honestI feel honored you chose me to drive you home. I know Hyung Shik lives actually ten minutes from your place and I feel like you knew too. So thank you.” The emphasis on thanking you. The wind blew your hair out of your face and there was nothing to hide your red cheeks. 

“Thank you for wanting to drive me home. I’ll see you in a couple of days when we leave for America?” He simply nodded and turned around. You typed in the code of your apartment and started to get inside, but you didn’t feel like saying goodbye yet. You watched him walk slowly away. When you thought he wouldn’t turn around anymore you turned your back and walked inside the building.

“Wait!-“he quickly grabbed the door before closing. “What are you doing tomorrow?”