#i have a week off of work coming up maybe that’ll help

[tteokdoroki]

also guys sorry for being miserable on ur dash for like 4 days straight idk what’s wrong with me i am going thru it but ill be okay !!!

[tacitusauxilium]

Honestly? I think I need a sedative and/or wine with the week I’ve had so far.

My mom has been in the hospital since Monday. She had an artery on her right side that had 99% blockage to her heart. They told her if she went to work Monday night or mowed the yard, she would be dead. The thought of her mowing the yard with my son in the house and her dead in the yard terrifies the shit out of me. So, she finally comes home tomorrow since she got her stent put in today to clear the blockage—through her groin, instead of her arm, cause she can’t make anything easy for herself. Then again, the smoking she’s done for 40 + years is finally catching up to her. If that doesn’t wake her up, idk what will.

Then my husband is in the ER today because he was having chest pains. Work wasn’t letting him go back to work (his HR was too high) and then that turned into an ambulance ride—turns out it was anxiety. The man was taking the memories he had with his father and turning them around and experiencing them again. Cause his dad died in a hospital and he hates hospitals—moms in a hospital, so on and forth. Not fun being alone with my kid who wouldn’t nap unless he was in my arms. I didn’t eat until 3pm today cause I was so drained. And also super not fun when the service desk lady asked if anyone could watch my son while I see my husband. I even said “my moms in the cath lab getting a stent put in and my husbands in the ER—I DON’T have anyone to help me” and smiled with my head turned. 😒

So, I’ve been off for two days for work and just having panic attacks over the stress of everything this week. I don’t get how my husband can play video games and relax while I’m laying in bed and trying to stop myself from being numb from everything. At least we will all be home together tomorrow.

[aureatchi]

˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[yournowheregirl]

Eddie used to be a pretty fearless person.

He ran red lights almost on the daily, provoked his bullies while his bruises from the last run-in were still healing and agreed to shady drug deals in the dead of night.

Having a kid changed all that.

As soon as Hayley was born, Eddie found himself riddled with anxiety every waking moment of the day. Scared to drop her, scared she’d get sick, scared she’d break something, scared that someone’d take her from the playground if he looked away for just one second. Even Wayne had to pry Hayley out of his arms when he had to go back to work and assure him that everything would be fine.

Lucky for Eddie, none of those fears ever came true. Until today.

They’d just gone through Hayley’s night time routine - reading a chapter of that Narnia book Jeff had gotten her, singing her good night song together, kissing her forehead and sharing I love you's - and Eddie’s about to close her bedroom door when Hayley’s squeaky voice suddenly speaks up.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweet pea?”

“I wanna join the soccer team.”

And just like that, with six little words, one of Eddie’s personal horrors suddenly becomes a reality.

His daughter is a jock.

“Uh, let’s… let’s talk about that in the morning, okay? Sleep tight!” Eddie says quickly and closes the door behind him.

As soon as he knows Hayley’s fast asleep, he dials one of the two numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello?"

“What have you done to my daughter?” Eddie seethes.

“Well, hi to you too, Eddie.” Chrissy says on the other side of the line. “What’s up?”

“Hayley wants to join the soccer team and it’s all your fault, Chris!” Eddie is pacing up and down his living room now, trying to calm himself down without reaching for his cigarettes - he quit when Hayley was born and this is not going to be the reason that’ll end his seven year streak.

“And how is that my fault, exactly?”

“You- you have poisoned her mind with your jock ways! Hayley isn’t a jock! She likes dragons and castles and fantasy worlds, as is her right as my daughter. I mean, her middle name is Arwen for fuck’s sake, being a nerd is in her goddamn DNA!”

“Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Chrissy says calmly. “Hayley’s always been a curious kid, it’s in her nature. She always wants to try new things and then move on to the next big thing. Remember how she wanted to become a drummer after she saw Gareth play? And then she abandoned the drum kit after two weeks?”

“Right.”

“Maybe this is just another phase, maybe she overheard some classmates and wanted to join in on the fun.” Chrissy says. “Just take her to try outs and see what happens, there’s always a chance she doesn’t like it.”

Eddie lets himself fall onto the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in defeat. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Eddie, how have you not learned this yet?” Chrissy giggles.

Which is how Eddie finds himself waking up at the crack of dawn that next Saturday. Well, he was supposed to sleep in for another thirty minutes or so but Hayley was so excited about try-outs that her high pitched screams and jumping on his bed woke him up regardless.

Hayley’s excitement carries on during breakfast and she barely keeps still as Eddie braids her hair. She’s even dead serious about the color of her hair ties, saying that they have to match the colors of the soccer team (aptly named the Purple Cobras, so obviously the hair ties have to be purple as well).

And any other morning, Eddie is trailing behind his daughter, making sure she hurries up so they’ll get to school on time, but not today. Now, she’s already got her coat on and bouncing from one foot to another in the hallway and calling him out instead.

“Dad, come on!” Hayley whines. “We’re gonna be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Eddie huffs as he puts on his trusty leather jacket - if he’s gonna freeze his balls off by being outside all morning, at least he’s gonna do it in style. He can’t help but laugh at Hayley, who’s now jumping up and down from excitement. “Geez, you better save some energy for the try-outs.”

“Can we go now?” Hayley sighs and scrunches her nose in annoyance and yeah, she really is his kid.

“One ride in the Munson Mobile, coming right up!”

Hayley doesn’t shut up about the intricacies of soccer the entire drive to the local soccer club, apparently Chrissy (the traitor) had helped her read up on the rules and now obviously Eddie had to know all about them as well.

Half of what Hayley’s saying flies over his head, partly because he’s never really cared for sports but mostly because he can feel his anxiety growing with every passing second.

What if Hayley gets injured? What if some tackles her and she breaks her leg? Or worse?

What if she is an amazing player and she needs all these fancy soccer supplies and training clinics and Eddie’s forced to get another job to just to keep them afloat?

What if she’s weak at sports, just like Eddie was while growing up, and all the other kids will make fun of her and laugh behind her back?

What if-

“Dad, look, we’re here!”

The van barely comes to a screeching halt and Hayley’s already halfway out the door when Eddie grabs her by the collar and pulls her back into her seat. This obviously annoys Hayley, judging by the furious look on her face. If Eddie was a weaker man, he would’ve cowered in fear, but he invented that look so he barely feels a thing.

“Sweet pea, listen to your dear old dad for a minute, alright?” Eddie says softly. “I know you really wanna be on the soccer team but it’s still okay if you don’t make the team, you know that right? I won’t love you any less if you don’t make it or you don’t like it, just try your best, okay?”

Hayley’s face turns serious, as if the words are slowly sinking in. “Okay.”

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asks, holding out his pinky finger. Within a split second, Hayley’s tiny finger links around him and she sends him a toothy smile.

“Pinky promise.”

“C’mon, let’s kick these kids’ butts!”

Hayley giggles. “You’re supposed to kick the ball, dad.”

“Oh, right, silly me.” Eddie grins and follows his daughter outside.

But right as his anxiety has died down, it comes flooding right back as soon as Eddie lays eyes on the soccer field. There are so many kids. So many balls being kicked at full speed, with no time to duck. So many sneering soccer moms who look at him like he’s the devil incarnate. So many dangers just waiting around the corner and Eddie just want to turn on his heel and run. Hayley’s inevitable temper tantrum be damned, at least she’ll be in one piece and-

“Hayley Arwen Munson?”

Both Eddie and Hayley whip their heads around at the same time, only to be greeted by one of the coaches and shit- Eddie’s suddenly very interested in soccer.

With a chiseled jaw, soft hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the coach looks like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad rather than a little league soccer field. He’s wearing a wind breaker, white knee socks and bright purple shorts (that cling deliciously tight around his thighs), which shouldn’t work on him but it does and Eddie just can’t look away.

Hayley (thankfully) doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and instead happily waves at Hot Coach. “Over here!”

The coach writes something on the clipboard and walks towards them, crouching down in front of Hayley. “Hi Hayley, I’m coach Steve, nice to meet you. You here to try out for the soccer team?”

“Yes!” Hayley replies brightly.

“Well good, you can say hi to coach Robin and the other girls and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Hayley nods and turns to Eddie. “Bye dad!”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up.” Eddie says quickly, once again grabbing the back of her t-shirt to keep her from running off. He kneels down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. “Be careful, okay, baby? And if you don’t like it you can just yell and I come and get you, no questions asked. And if your laces get loose, you can yell too, literally if anything goes wrong you can-”

“Dad…” Hayley interrupts him and puts her tiny hand onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie laughs and ducks his head. God, this is like kindergarten all over again, when Hayley just skipped to Miss Coleman without a care in the world and Eddie was sobbing into Wayne’s shoulder as he watched her go.

“I know it will be, sweet pea.” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to Hayley’s forehead. She takes that as her cue to go, skipping across the field towards the gaggle of girls that surround another one of the coaches.

Eddie feels his heart burst as he sees Hayley smiling as she greets the other girls, she seems to fit right in. He sighs deeply and stands up, trying to keep his eyes on Hayley, when a voice suddenly speaks up.

“Arwen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps because shit, he totally forgot that Coach Steve was still there as well. “Yeah, she’s named Arwen. What about it?"

Eddie wants to eat his foot as soon as he utters the words. He’s always been defensive when it comes to Hayley, being a single dad who doesn’t look like your standard suburban dad next door will do that to you. But to do it in front of a cute guy like that? It makes him want to kick himself. Repeatedly.

But much to his surprise, Steve doesn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “That’s from Lord of the Rings, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie replies dumbly. He feels his walls lowering down - holy shit, this Steve guy is hot and he knows Lord of the Rings? If they weren’t around a bunch of kids right now, Eddie would’ve dropped to his knees already.

“Cute.” Steve chuckles and are Eddie’s eyes deceiving him or is Steve actually checking him out? Before he gets a chance to wrap his head around all that, Steve gestures back to the field. “Well, I gotta jet. Soccer waits for no one. See you around, Mr. Munson.”

“Ew, no. Mr. Munson is my dad.” Eddie winces, remembering all the times his neighbor growing up came by to help Wayne out and refuses to call him by his first name. “I’m Eddie.”

“Well then,” Steve smirks as he walks backwards. “see you around, Eddie.”

As Eddie tries to look like a normal human being instead of a total creep - which proves to be terribly difficult when Steve turns around and puts his ass on fully display in those damn shorts - he slowly begins to realize one thing.

Maybe Hayley’s decision to join the soccer team is the best idea she had in a long time.

[street-smarts00]

Hello, i would like to request a short little spencer reid x reader, since spencer is kind of autistic coded and he is shown to not understand some jokes or takes things literally, can you do one where reader is the same way, and somebody says a joke that neither of them get and everyone else around is like... wow they are perfect for eachother... and they are just so confused

Drabble: Sweet Like Sugar

A/N: I love this idea! Thanks for requesting! The only joke I could come up with is one from an episode of FRIENDS. Here's a lil dabble before I go into finals. I’m so mentally done with school and can’t wait for summer vacay in a week.

~560 wc

It was early in the morning and your coworkers were just showing up for work. You quickly dropped your stuff off at your desk before practically running towards the coffee maker. 

When you approached the counter Morgan was there preparing a fresh batch of coffee. “Hey sweet thing, how’s your morning been?” 

“Ask me after I have caffeine in my system. Maybe then my eyes will stay open,” you answered plainly as you reached for your mug.  

Morgan chuckled at your answer as he grabbed the coffee pot. “Well feel free to take the first cup.” 

The corners of your mouth turned up as you handed him your mug. “Thanks Morgan.” 

The two of you continued to make your coffee as Spencer approached looking for caffeine. When he saw you his eyes brightened. 

You and Spencer had just started dating and were feeling the buzz others might call “the honeymoon phase.” Spencer however would argue that what he was feeling was more than that. What he felt for you he felt long before you started dating. 

“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile reaching for the coffee pot. 

“Morning Spence,” you replied gleefuly. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk. “How come he gets a warm welcome?” 

You pointed at your cup, “I told you, ask me when I have coffee.” 

He chucked, “That or your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes squinted at him as you tried to hide a smile. 

“Do you guys know if there’s any extra sugar?” Spencer asked. 

You turned back around to face him. “There isn’t any in the cabinet?” 

“No, it’s empty,” he replied as he pushed away things in his search for sugar. That small pout on his face you found to be adorable.

“Hold on, let me look for some.”

“Maybe stick your finger in his coffee, that’ll sweeten it up,” Morgan joked before taking a sip of coffee. 

Both you and Spencer froze to look at him with confusion plastered across your faces. Morgan could practically see the gears turning in your heads. 

“Why would she stick her finger in my coffee?” Spencer asked with a puzzled look. 

“That’s so gross. I wouldn’t do that to him, he hates germs,” you grimaced. 

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Morgan defended.

The joke was still lost on you both. You stood there trying to make sense of what Morgan said.

“It’s because you have such a sweet personality that touching his coffee would sweeten it up. Especially because he likes an ungodly amount of sugar,” he explained. 

A look of realization dawned on you both with quiet “oohs.” 

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. He always knew you and Spencer would end up together. You were both so similar; your chemistry undeniable. You two acted like love sick puppies around each other, and it happened more often now that you started dating. Morgan would never complain though, he was pleased to see you both happy and with your person. 

“Wow, you guys really are perfect for eachother,” he remarked before walking away from the kitchen. 

You and Spencer both turned to each other and shrugged, not fully grasping what he was insinuating. 

“Hey Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

You finished stirring your creamer in your coffee, “Would you say I’m sweet? Like Derek said?” 

He wrapped his arm around you and leaned down to kiss your temple before whispering in your ear. 

“The sweetest.”

[cod-dump]

This could very much be an odd idea but thoughts on Nik not trusting barbers to get his hair or beard right (the word "beard" is used loosely) so he just does it himself, straight razor and all. Eventually Price finds out about this and, being a man of duty, takes it upon himself to take care of his partner. This ends up with Price sitting on Nik's lap with all of Nik's shaving tools laid out and Price sternly telling him to "shut up and sit still" everytime he tries to make a joke about their proximity

Date Night

PriceNik

———

Nik won’t cut his hair or shave until he considers it bothersome. And when he does it’s all coming off. And Price hates it. Nik would just take it all off at once and Price wouldn’t even recognize him. They made their current arrangement years ago after Price finally had enough.

Now they had a system. Nik would tell Price when his hair and scruff would be bothering him and Price would quickly arrange a time they could sit down and he would take care of it. Nik liked to consider it date night for them because it was always so tender. The way Price would hold his face and get close? He looked forward to it ever since the first time.

He would get drinks for them (afterwards on Price’s insistence) and order in food. He would have some music lined up that would be soft, something Price liked and enjoys. Nik took date night seriously, especially since it was an opportunity to get Price to relax.

“What did you order this time? Smells amazing,” Food had gotten here sooner than expected, an error on Nik’s part. So now the delicious aroma was haunting them before Price had even started trimming his hair.

“Indian, your favorite.”

Nik made sure to go the extra mile to get food from Price’s favorite place, a whole country away. But nothing was too much for him to get something that’ll make Price’s night. Nik had one of his men go out and get it for him with the promise of giving him enough money to get himself something extra (be it food or something else entirely).

“We’re already married, you don’t have to keep trying to impressing me,” Price joked as he made sure he had everything he needed before he started on Nik’s hair.

“Nonsense, have to make sure you know you made the right choice.”

“Again with the charming.”

Price had turned away, confirming that Nik had him blushing. It was one of Nik’s favorite hobbies and one that he’s only allowed to do behind closed doors. He made Price blush once in front of the boys and that’s all they needed to torment the man for weeks on end. Price hasn’t forgiven him and sworn him from flirting in public. Nik had to play nice to get back the right to be affectionate in the common area again.

“Seeing some silver here.”

Nik almost melted when he felt his husband’s fingers touch his hair, his nails light scraping his scalp as he combed through with his fingers. Nik easily could fall asleep with Price petting his hair, but Price wasn’t allowing him and tugged a strand harshly.

“Sit up straight.”

“Bossy,” Nik teased which immediately earned him another tug. Nik sat up straight and allowed Price to comb through his hair before he started trimming.

Price was surprisingly very good with hair. Nik suspected he started when Ghost was brought home, very traumatized and unable to look himself in the mirror or go out in public. Price had taken it upon himself to help the man keep up with his appearance. Once Ghost gotten better, Price seemed to turn his new skill onto Nik.

“You would make a good living in a hair salon. Just need to get practice with color.”

Price hummed as he cut Nik’s hair, “You offering?”

“Hm, no. I might just keep the grey, remind myself how far I’ve survived.”

Price finished with his hair, now just under his ears. Price gently fluffed his hair, perhaps admiring his work or being affectionate.

“Could get some orange in there.”

Nik snorts, “Orange?”

“Maybe some purple, too.”

“I like Halloween but not that much,” Nik laughed, once again melting against Price’s touch. Price’s laugh was heavenly and Nik couldn’t stop grinning.

Price deemed Nik’s hair acceptable before he went to prepare to shave and trim the scruff on his face. Nik wasn’t as gifted in growing facial hair as Price but it still needed to be maintained to look presentable. Nik was just shaving it all off but Price had mentioned he liked it on him, so it stayed. And now Price tended to it, Nik happily letting him do whatever he wished.

Price used to stand over him to shave and trim the scruff, but they both found that the process was much easier and faster with Price on Nik’s lap.

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

Nik grinned at the warning, “I’m used to you not having so much clothing when you’re like this.”

Price smacked his head with a glare, Nik continuing to grin. Price being so close to his face, holding it and using sharp objects — It was safe to say that he was the only person Nik had ever let get this close. He was one of the only people Nik would ever trust to do this. Price knew that, Nik could tell with how he touched him. How his fingers stroked his cheek, how soft his eyes were.

Price knew how much Nik trusted him, how much he loved him. Moments like this meant so much to them. These moments allowed them to demonstrated how much they meant to the other, how much trust and love they had. Nik had closed his eyes, the ultimate sign of him allowing himself to be completely vulnerable and open to Price. It was a gift, something Price returns fully.

“There,” Price leaned back on Nik’s lap, hands on the man’s shoulders. The movement caused Nik to open his eyes, greeted by Price’s eyes which were full of love, “Much better.”

“Still has handsome as the day we met?” Nik asked, completely at Price’s mercy.

“No. Much more now than ever.”

Nik couldn’t help but laugh, quickly silenced by a kiss to his lips. The kiss was short, Price pulling away and pressing a kiss to his nose before moving up and kissing his forehead. The sweet, simple act made Nik shudder, he had never expected himself to fall so deep for someone.

“Я тебя люблю,” Nik said without thinking, a phrase he has said countless times in his life, and the majority of it was for the man currently on his lap and destroying every wall he has ever built.

“I love you, too.”

There was moment of silence, of them staring into each other’s eyes, before Price pulled away and got off Nik’s lap.

“Go clean up so we can eat. I’m starving.”

Nik laughed and did as he was told. As he strip himself of his clothes and went to shower, he couldn’t help but smile and think about how much he adores these moments.

[jayjj7]

chapter 7. helping (half written)

prev. | next | masterlist

a/n: thank you for 300 followers omg❤️

hanni and haerin arrive at the vet that you work out in a panic not knowing what’s wrong with haerins cat, kitty. haerin is holding kitty close to her chest like one would hold an infant. kitty had been throwing up regularly for the past week but after some medication you prescribed her it stopped, though it was a very small amount because you just suspected kitty just had a stomach ache. hanni, still panicked, was calmer than haerin; she still thinks kitty is fine and just needed more medication.

as they both walk in they are greeted by a lady sitting down peacefully on one of the waiting chairs, 7 vacant leashes in hand. hanni and haerin look around, confused as to why no one is at the reception. but because this was like a second home to the both of them because of how often they’ve visited you on your breaks, they weren’t patient.

“hello?” haerin tries to draw your attention towards her.

“y/n! kitty needs help!” hanni shouts leaning over the counter hoping to make her voice heard.

haerin slightly slaps hannis arm, offended.

“ow!”

“don’t say that, kitty is okay” haerin scolds while petting kitty’s head in comfort.

hearing your name being called after ryo and tae arrived to help with the dogs felt like a call from heaven. an excuse to leave you explain to the boys, “okay dani is coming with the gloves, i’ll be right back to help you all” you jog out of the room. you recognized hannis voice but you assumed it was nothing important and it was just another time she stopped by to say hi.

as you jog to the reception you bump into danielle, throwing you off balance towards the wall, which she quickly holds you by both arms so you don’t fall.

“oh my god i’m sorry!” danielle stares at you, hoping to not irritate you.

“it’s fine, go help the boys with the dogs” you don’t even hold eye contact with her as you leave her grasp and make your way to the front.

“hey what’s going on?” you ask slightly out of breath.

“kitty won’t stop throwing up and i ran out of the medicine you gave her!” haerin looks at kitty while explaining to make sure her cat isn’t distressed.

“oh uh okay,” you’re kind of shocked by this as you thought the medicine given to kitty would stop the sickness.

“here, ill take her into the back and run a few tests but that’ll be a $50 copay” you wince, feeling bad charging your dear friend.

“yeah okay here” haerin doesn’t hesitate as she hands you kitty before inserting her card to pay.

in the inspection room you start off by getting kitty some water and writing down any observations. you decided to place some food for her to eat and see any reactions she may have. after serving the food, all kitty does is sit there and stare at you instead of approaching the food. this happens for several minutes. no matter what you do, she won’t eat.

“maybe dani knows what to do?”

you leave the room to find dani washing the dogs with the boys.

“dani can you come here for a second?”

danielle mouths a ‘thank you’ as she takes her hairnet and gloves off before throwing them away after leaving the room.

as you both arrive to the room where kitty was left, you explain the situation to her. danielle hums in confusion as she listens while kitty is cuddling up to her.

“mmm..? how about this?” she walks over to a cabinet and pulls out a can all the way in from the back before opening said can. danielle picks up kitty in her arms and holds the different kind of food to her while she speaks sweetly to kitty, trying to convince her to eat the food.

confused and somewhat annoyed, you cross your arms thinking that danielle won’t be of any help until kitty eats the food with no concerning reactions.

danielle looks at you and smiles.

“maybe kitty doesn’t like the food her owner gives her, i mean she’s not throwing up. she’s almost finished the food!” danielle laughs as kitty continues eating. you can tell danielle loves her job and every animal she treats. it’s heartwarming seeing her care for animals and the smile on her face after she’s found a solution to a problem.

“she’s also over due for a shot so we should take care of that” she says in a more serious tone while handing kitty over to you after kitty had ate all her food.

you’ve been through this process before: hold the animal in a comfortable yet secure position so that it’s not only hard for them to leave your grasp but also comfortable enough for them to relax. all while someone else injects the medication into the animal. simple enough.

“okay ready? one two three” danielle whispers as she inserts and injects the needle into kitty…or so she thought.

“wow did you even give it to her? it’s almost like she didn’t fee-woah” your amusement was cut short as you feel the medicine being poured into you. your hand was under kitty’s stomach so it was hidden, danielle must’ve not seen your hand and injected the medicine into you instead of kitty.

“oh my god y/n!”

in a slump, tired, and exhausted manner, you hand over kitty back to haerin. “turns out she doesn’t like the…food…you give her” your voice is almost a whisper as you talk with noticeable pauses in between words.

“what? kitty!” haerin takes her cat back in disbelief.

“i told you it was nothing” hanni groans and she holds haerins shoulder.

you lean on the counter with your head facing down and hold up a thumbs up. “she was…due for her shots so we…gave her it-to her” you stumble.

“thank you y/n! see you later!” haerin thanks as she walks out with hanni, both of them waving to you.

taglist : [ @modanisgf @greenniee @milfcr @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @nimxie @urwyf3 @flolio @imahallucination11 @pandafuriosa60 @kaypanaq @nnewjeansstuff ] taglist is open !! comment to be added !

[blacktofade]

Fic: gemtho [NC-17]

Inspired by the "game" from Gem's S10E03 (aka I found an excuse to write filth).

--

“You said I could take anything,” Gem reminds Etho, who stares up at her, eyes wide and skin flushed above the line of his mask.

“Yeah, but I meant — ”

Her hands work at his belt and then his pants, getting both of them open, pushing and shoving for what she wants.

“I made my choice,” she says, managing to slip his pants far enough down his hips that she can see he’s half-hard already. “I’m gonna take you.”

His hands are tight on her waist and his mask shifts in time with his breathing, but he doesn’t argue. Not even about the fact that she has him flat on his back in the grass just outside of his home, where anyone might see.

“You could’ve just asked,” Etho groans when Gem spits into her palm and reaches down to stroke him.

“It’s about the game,” she reminds him, and it feels good to have the weight of him in her hand again.

They haven’t done this since they moved, swept up in the chaos of starting over, but she’s missed it — missed him.

And it’s clear Etho feels the same, because it hardly takes any effort to get him the rest of the way hard, the curve of his cock and the wet tip of it making Gem ache inside.

Etho’s hands slide higher, groping at her in a way he doesn’t usually, not unless she really gets him worked up, and she finds out quickly that it’s what she needs.

Part of her wishes she was wearing her skirt still, because if she was, all she’d have to do is tug her underwear to the side and she could take him. Instead, she has to pull back, away from everything she wants.

Etho grunts, but it doesn’t take Gem long to kick off her boots and slip out of her pants and underwear, and Etho stares like he can’t get enough, even after seeing her bare so many times before.

Briefly, he reaches down as though wanting to get his fingers on her — or maybe in her — but she bats his hand away, too impatient for anything that’ll slow her down.

“Gem,” he tries, voice tight, but Gem’s already holding his dick steady, guiding him into her as she slowly sinks down.

Etho’s head tips back, his throat bared, which makes it easy for Gem to fold forward and get her mouth on it.

He feels so good filling her up and he doesn’t move, letting her set the pace she wants, even as she works a bruise onto his skin. The fact that he doesn’t tell her not to makes her even wetter, knowing he wants to walk around with it, that he’s okay with anyone seeing it.

She digs her teeth in, just enough to make him moan as she finally settles on his hips, his cock as deep as she can get it. It’s been long enough that the stretch of it stings a little and she knows she’ll feel it later.

She gives the line of his jaw a final kiss before pulling away, sitting back and looking down at him.

His headband has shifted, his hair a little tangled and flyaway, but he’s breathing hard and staring back at her with dark eyes.

“Still wish I’d taken something else from your base?” Gem asks and Etho exhales forcefully.

“No.”

She smiles at the fact that he answers, like he knows she’d force him to if he didn’t, and then rolls her hips, giving him what he clearly wants.

He lets out another breath and Gem continues, enjoying the feeling of him nudging so deep inside, and she keeps at it for a long moment, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit to help adjust to him.

She could come like that, given enough time, but she doesn’t think she has the patience for it. After so many weeks with nothing but her own hand, she wants Etho to make her come hard and fast.

“Y’know, I never said you couldn’t move,” she muses, watching Etho’s expression shift. “You’re doing that voluntarily.”

His gaze tracks her and she sees the moment he understands, and she feels the moment he understands when he brings his hands up to her back and the world starts to tilt.

Somehow he manages to roll them, slipping out of her only long enough to untangle his pants from around legs, before he pushes her thighs open again and shoves back inside.

She laughs, throwing her arms out and enjoying the softness of grass beneath them.

Etho fucks her with a strength she still hasn’t grown accustomed to, still takes her by surprise, and it’s exactly what she needs.

“God,” she groans, curling her legs around his waist, trying to pull him even deeper with every thrust. “I missed this.”

The frantic snap of Etho’s hips wordlessly says he feels the same, but she can see it in his expression, too. The way he stares at her as though he’d try to find her in any universe they fell into.

She shuts her eyes and turns her hands palms-down, clutching at the ground beneath her, breathing hard and chasing the feeling growing inside her.

Etho moves against her, though his thrusts never stop, and Gem startles as his mouth finds her own, mask no longer in the way. She pushes a moan between his lips alongside her tongue and he kisses back with a fierceness she’s never felt from him before.

It’s like it’s the only way he knows to tell her he never wants them to be apart again.

“Yeah,” she says against his mouth when he finally breaks away to catch his breath, and she hopes he knows it’s the answer to his unspoken question.

Their bodies are loud in the silence around them, but she can hear and feel how Etho is already beginning to lose rhythm, the way he trembles trying to keep up the pace.

“Want me to pull out?” he asks, lips grazing her cheek and Gem shakes her head.

“Don’t care,” she pants, because either way she’ll have to wander down to the river to wash. She’s so wet, she’s a mess already.

Etho adjusts, just enough that every thrust manages to rub her clit at the same time, and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Etho,” she begs, and in no time at all, he has her coming the exact way she’s needed — deep and devastating.

She’s still shaking from it when Etho gets a hand under one of her knees and pushes it up, fucking her faster but with none of the precision, and when he follows her over the edge, it’s with a loud groan that she can feel through his chest.

He keeps moving — maybe to push his come a little deeper, though probably just because it feels good — and with how wound up she feels, she knows she should take advantage.

“Keep going,” she tells him. “Just a little bit more.”

He’s probably sore and oversensitive, but he still obeys, and Gem reaches between them, circling her clit with two fingers just long enough to make herself come again, the second orgasm hitting sharper, but just as hard.

“Gem,” Etho says, sounding a little astonished, a little broken, but Gem lets herself go boneless with a laugh, her legs dropping from around Etho’s waist.

“God, I needed that,” she sighs, and Etho carefully pulls out before dropping into the grass beside her.

She stays there, eyes closed, catching her breath, a gentle tugging at her hair that suggests Etho’s playing with it as he rests next to her.

She can feel his come dripping out of her, cooling quickly, and yet can’t bring herself to care.

When she opens her eyes, Etho’s watching her, but when he notices, he smiles — a rarity for her to see.

Carefully, she rolls toward him, throwing one leg over his own and bringing a hand up to his face, thumb nestling in the dimple of his cheek.

“I’m glad we’re neighbors,” he tells her, and happiness bubbles up through her chest and escapes as a laugh.

“I’m glad, too, Etho.”

When she leans in to kiss him, he meets her halfway.

[hrtsgyu]

thank you for the venom- c. soobin

w.c: unknown, pretty short though :p

genre: fluff </3

summary: having a shitty time at work and struggling on your own but a cute barista has your order memorized and is always waiting for you to come in every morning.

a/n: hello!! soobin time!! i noticed i haven’t written about him yet he literally has a phd in boyfriendology :3 i was originally going to write this as an angst or slow burn BUT IM A SOFTIE AT HEART SORRY !! also yes if it wasn’t clear already, the title is from mcr ><

“hello! what would you like to orde-“ “one black coffee.” you cut off the cute boy. you’re rushing because you have to meet with a client at your studio and you’re completely off schedule. “coming right up..” he goes to make your coffee.

“that’ll be 5.99” you pay and you’re off to your job and you can’t help but think that his smile was cute.

next morning

“good morning! how may i take your order?” he looks up at you. “one black coffee.” your tone is very bland, you really do not want to talk to anyone today. “alright! that’ll be 5.99, pay whenever you’re ready!” he goes off to make your coffee and you pay. while waiting you see him write a note on your coffee cup. he calls out your number you quickly grab your coffee and head out.

work is so hectic for you. having to finish some songs to send to your company, writing a new album for another artist who asked for you and the list goes on and on. you finally had enough and went to go take a walk for some fresh air.

sipping your coffee you noticed a note on it reading “hope your days get better :)” that barista is so sweet. maybe you should lighten up around him.

you don’t go to the coffee shop at your usual time. you woke up so late you had to speed to work and you see your boss. “late again?” “look i’m so sorry i got-“ “i don’t need any more of your excuses y/n. you’re on thin ice. i’m this close to firing you.” he leaves without another word. it’s not the first time he comes to give you a warning. you’ve been late for almost the whole month now. you get into the studio and “fuck my coffee!”

you storm into the coffee shop. you could lash out at anyone. you were mad at yourself and didn’t know how to control it but somehow he did. “hi there! one black coffee?” he smiles at you. “yes, please and thank you.” you quickly realize he already has your order done. “you can pay whenever you’re ready.” you pay once more and before you left you had to ask.

“what’s your name?” “oh! i’m soobin” he smiles brightly, he looks like a bunny you thought to yourself. “your smile is very cute and thank you for the coffee.” “ahh thank you!” he’s so cute when he blushes. you had back to your job and you saw he wrote on your cup. “just wanted to say you’re very cute. hope your day goes well!” why is he making you blush so hard? the rest of the day felt like a breeze.

next morning

you woke up on time, ready to face the world…… until you see a new barista. “hi there! i’m beomgyu, how can i take your order?” “just a black coffee please” “alright that’ll be 5.99” he goes off to make your order after you pay. he calls your number. “have a nice day!” “thank you! you too beomgyu!” he smiles sweetly at you and you spoke without thinking. “where’s soobin by the way” “he’s gonna be out of town for a little bit but he should be back in about a week!” you’re disappointed. “i see, thank you!” you leave feeling sad you aren’t going to see him for a week!! that’s so long!!! he basically gets you through your hard days.

a week passes

you’ve been on top of your shit this past week! not late once! but soobin is back and you can’t wait to see him again so you got all dolled up and headed to the coffee shop. “good morning!what wou-“ “hi soobin!” woah a little too excited to see him. “oh hi!! i have your black coffee ready!” “you know me so well, how’d your week off go by the way” you ask him politely while paying. “oh did beomgyu tell you that? it went well, had fun.” “aw that’s awesome, missed you” he covers his face as he got flustered “i missed you too uhh i never really got your name..” “it’s y/n” he takes note of your name before telling you to have a good day.

this routine goes on for a little while. throughout this time soobin builds up his courage to finally ask you out on a date… that is until he was working a later shift. you hadn’t come in at your regular time in the morning, he had thrown away your black coffee thinking you weren’t going to arrive but thankfully you did! but with another guy..?

“hey soobin!” you walk in cheerfully with the guy hanging on your side. “black coffee?” soobin asked “yeah! and an iced americano please!” soobin can’t help but stare down the guy next to you. he’s tall, handsome, buff and so much more! he can’t help but let his insecurities get to him. you sat down with your friend and soobin hands you the drinks. “here’s my card-“ “no no no! i’ll pay, you paid for us last time..” last time? you’ve been with this man more than once? oh his heart broke thinking this guy was your boyfriend. “oh fine jun go ahead” as soobin paid at the front counter with the guys card he noticed the name on the card was choi yeonjun. as in The choi yeonjun. the famous rapper and choreographer? how’d you even know him personally? and why did you have a nickname for him?

“here’s your card!” soobin sees you aren’t at your seat, figuring you went to the bathroom. “thank you! by the way soobin right? you know y/n talks about you a lot. you really make their day every morning. keep doing what you do.” “making coffee?” yeonjun laughs. “you know what i mean, making them happy. i haven’t seen their face light up in months until you showed up in their life. you gotta make a move though. just a tiny hint, they absolutely loves films.” soobin has the best date plan ever. “thank you yeonjun. also how do you know them?” “they’re my producer friend, they helped me kickstart my rapping career. couldn’t have made it without them.” soobin mentally thanks yeonjun for being talkative. “oh i see! thank you for the idea!”

“what idea?” you came back and sat down in your seat. soobin is startled “umm the idea!” “sure of course, what idea though?” you look at yeonjun confused. “uh sorry umm would you maybe like to come over to watch a movie with me? on saturday?” AHHH FINALLY!!!! you smile very widely. “yeah of course! i’ll give you my phone number.” you exchange numbers and he goes back to serving customers while you and yeonjun start catching up.

saturday

holy shit you’re scared. a date? you haven’t been on a date since collage. how bad could it be? it’s just the guy from the coffee shop. stop being nervous you got this! you can do this! just knock on his door.

as you’re about to knock on his door he opens it before you can even touch it. “sorry i got tired of waiting..” soobin smiles awkwardly. “you seriously watched me for the 5 minutes i was contemplating?” “yup!”

you enter his apartment and you see a fort and a projector. on the screen reads “(500) days of summer.” as you enter the fort you see some of your favorite snacks and a few plushies.

“how’d you know what my favorite snacks were?” you looked around the fort as he enters behind you. “a little birdie told me” his attempt to sound slick. “got it! yeonjun definitely told you” but it’s like you can see right through him. “he came in yesterday..” you giggle at him thinking he’s adorable. you get comfy beside him and he starts the movie.

movie ends

“summer kinda irks me” he says clearly not happy with the ending. “really? i see her point but they were both kind of toxic..” you look up at him while he changes the movie to music.

beautiful stranger- laufey.

“i thought about this song when i first saw you come into the shop. you were in such a hurry and in a bad mood.” you flashback to that moment. “and you were so happy to be working. how do you stay happy all day?” “you.” you blush like crazy. “you injected me with your happiness soobin. i was so miserable before seeing you and when you got my order every morning with that bright cute bunny smile you have, it made my day. the whole day. thank you for the venom i guess” he laughs a little. “venom? that’s a little rough..” you kiss his cheek. “happiness is hard for me but you made it easy.” he looked at you with stars in his eyes and leans in to kiss you. as his lips touched yours it felt like no one was in the world except the both of you. he pulled away and pulled you closer. “you do not know how long i waited to do that.” you laugh. “you’re so lovely and very silly. i like that. i like you.” he smiled. “i can’t wait to take you on dates forever and ever.”

[jophiel-extras]

Hello! Azi simp here, requesting NSFW alphabet for him. I’ve done one of my own but I love seeing other people’s takes.

summary :: Aziraphale nsfw alphabet

warning :: nsfw

note :: waking up to Good Omens requests are so sweet

A = Aftercare

Aziraphale takes aftercare very seriously. He does the whole lot, cleaning the sheets, running the shower for you, making a hot cup of tea and then gently laying you down with him for a nap. Most times, he’ll read to you whilst you’re loosely cuddled up to him, soothing you to sleep.

B = Body part

Aziraphale finds his eyes to be most useful. Best part of you is everything and without his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see you. He doesn’t favour any particular body parts on you, though he does enjoy plumper areas like thighs, tummy or boobs.

C = Cum

Inside is where Aziraphale finds the most pleasure. Pulling out and cumming on you so too “pornographic,” for him. To release himself inside of you is too beautiful to miss out on anyway.

D = Dirty secret

Aziraphale loves to be flustered. Of course, if you do something he deems inappropriate, Aziraphale will blush and quietly reprimand you. Deep down though, he loves it. Loves the thrill of hearing you whisper the dirtiest things in his ear, or to feel you slide your hand up his thigh whilst dining out. The moments when you’re outwardly sexual to him, in very non-sexual situation, is absolutely addictive.

E = Experience

Very little if at all, Aziraphale would have some interesting ideology when it comes to angels and sex that would’ve stunted his sexual encounters greatly.

F = Favorite position

Missionary! So close, so loving. It’s perfect. Though, he’s certainly interested in The Amazon position. Generally, he just likes you on top.

G = Goofy

Not quite. Sex is serious for Aziraphale. The only time things might get a little silly is when he’s nervous and blurts things out.

H = Hair

Very well groomed! And the carpets do match the drapes.

I = Intimacy

Incredibly slow and intimate. Aziraphale makes love when he has sex, to him there’s no other way to do it.

J = Jack off

Shamefully, he does. Not often, maybe once a week if he’s particularly horny. The post-nut clarity on Aziraphale is horrible, always embarrassed for touching himself and even more so for thinking about you whilst doing it.

K = Kink

As established Aziraphale enjoys dirty talk, he might not return the words but hearing them gets him dripping with precum. He also doesn’t mind soaking, just laying with you, deep inside as you spoon no thrusting or movements. He’s also just a big fan of having a dominant partner.

L = Location

His bedroom inside the bookshop. Sex will basically never happen anywhere else.

M = Motivation

Sex doesn’t usually cross Aziraphale’s mind unless you put the idea in his head. It’s your flirting, naughty touches and words that’ll get him hard.

N = No

We all know Aziraphale is quite vanilla, so nothing too “kinky,”

O = Oral

Most will say Aziraphale loves to give oral, and he does, but boy does he love to receive. The sight of you licking and sucking at him is mind blowing. Words cannot describe how much he loves it. The mere idea of it gets his body hot.

P = Pace

Slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie

Not even on his radar. Quickies are just such a  foreign concept to him, who would want to rush sex? He thinks quick sex is bizarre.

R = Risk

He loves it when you take risks. Especially public ones.

S = Stamina

Usually one round is all, but it’s long and both of you are very satisfied afterwards.

T = Toys

Not at all. Aziraphale becomes nervous at the mention of sex toys.

U = Unfair

Aziraphale isn’t one to tease, but loves to be teased himself.

V = Volume

He’s quite verbal. He doesn’t grunt or groan but he moans and whimpers. Softly, mainly, but Aziraphale has been known to be a little loud.

W = Wild card

Working up to penetrative sex was a process for Aziraphale. He couldn’t help but feel guilty after sexual acts and the fact that he enjoyed them. It started with feverish making out, which then lead to body part kisses, to a little grinding, gentle touching, slight undressing, oral and then finally sex. It took a while but it was worth it for Aziraphale’s comfort.

X = X-ray

Thicker than average and probably about six inches.

Y = Yearning

Doesn’t really have a sex drive, but he doesn’t get horny from time to time. It’s usually whenever you’re in the mood.

Z = Zzz

Sex doesn’t tire him, but it makes him soft. He likes to bask in the loving aftermath of sex before sleeping.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College.  Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.”  You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude.  It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man.  I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute.  You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away.  “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive.  Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you.  You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head.  This sort of banter was typical of your friendship.  Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together.  It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind.  Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves.  It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man.  Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time.  Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.  

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked.  You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on.  He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing. 

“Nothing too crazy.  I need to take samples of your blood.  I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood.  That’ll be the control sample.”  He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair.  Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.  

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah.  I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right?  You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of.  It was one of the newest labs on campus.  Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students.  The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester.  Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor.  It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man.  Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this?  Because it’s totally not.”  You hated needles.  You hated doctors.  The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop.  Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door.  They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall.  The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights.  It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of.  You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop.  Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there.  Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink.  You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke.  “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.”  You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly.  He shot you a somewhat serious glare.  You returned a toothy grin.  

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete.  I’ve got steady hands.”  You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan.  “See?” You raised your hands up defensively.  “Steady hands.  I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.”  He dumped the contents onto the table.  Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls.  You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia.  “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can’t just, like, prick my finger?”  Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.  

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink.  The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered.  It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.”  There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke.  Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too.  He snapped on the baby blue gloves.  You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done.  “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.”  The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look.  Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut.  “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?”  You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own.  That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.  

Six vials of blood?  Why did you even decide to do this in the first place?  You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body.  Peter definitely owed you big time.  

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding.  “That should be it.  Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”  

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled.  It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy.  “Yeah, no problem.”  You shook your head quickly.  There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.  

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands.  You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator.  That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace.  Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet.  While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor.  There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile.  You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake.  Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook.  That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess.  You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets.  The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up.  Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill.  A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain.  As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.  

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah.  Dropped one of the vials and cut myself.  I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.”  Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his.  There was no way to know which vial was which.  Peter knew.  He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something.  But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge.  That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there.  Yeah, it’s mine.  “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away.  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?  Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text.  I’m headed to the library for a bit.”  You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door.  “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper.  The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar.  Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange.  At first you thought you had been studying too long.  The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click.  Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty.  Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off.  The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.  

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead.  It was probably the flu.  It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised.  Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu.  You and Ned go without me.  I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition.  Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses.  Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again.  Tears clouded your vision.  Rubbing your eyes didn’t help.  The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.  

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment.  Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner.  You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door.  There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom.  As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead.  Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread.  You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all.  In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time.  There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago.  You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off.  As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket.  It was stuck to your hands.  

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric.  No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support.  Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away.  At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not.  Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers.  What the hell?  You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack.  The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed.  That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist.  When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least.  The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s.  His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers?  It couldn’t be.  This all had to be some sort of nightmare.  You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed.  Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal.  You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.  

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door.  It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah.  I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.  

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.”  You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too.  It didn’t, much to your relief.  

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before.  A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.  

“Good.  Great actually.  I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground.  “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man.  You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.  

“Bummer.  I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind.  “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.  

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom.  The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed. 

“Wha-?”  

“Woah!  Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked.  You were thoroughly confused.  None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out.  What were they talking about?  The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked.  It was like someone took a  chisel to your body overnight.  There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles.  The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief.  Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into.  It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror.  It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah.  I’ve just got spidey powers now.”  It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words.  Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body.  It was an out-of-body experience in every way.  There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.  

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped.  Everything stopped.  Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye.  Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.  

“Umm, yeah I guess.  I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.”  You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked!  Holy shit it WORKED!”  He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while.  “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited!  He’ll want to meet you.  Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything!  That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom.  “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now.  I don’t even know if he’ll ask.  I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything.  He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.”  Peter gingerly walked back his excitement.  The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten.  Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same.  Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same.  Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore.  One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you.  I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things.  I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.”  Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked.  You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck.  “Woah!  That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling.  Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation.  Everything felt sharper.  Colors were brighter and bolder.  You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye.  Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile.  It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.  

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist.  Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.  

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

[neontoad]

“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 13

Hello!

I didn’t have time to work on the Shovel Talks AU today so I thought I’d give the part of the concert series that I’ve been sitting on for a couple of days.

And I have more of this done, too, so that’ll be fun.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

*

They arrived at the hospital and were almost immediately brought back. Dr Hathaway looked over Eddie’s wounds, changed the dressing and took his vitals.

“Everything looks good, Mr Munson,” Dr Hathaway said. “You are free to go home. I will have a nurse come in in a few minutes to go over care for the next couple of weeks. And then be sure to make an appointment with me at the receptionist’s desk before you go. I want to see you in two weeks to remove the stitches.”

Eddie nodded.

Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m just going to radio everyone the news, and I’ll be right back.”

Eddie smiled and nodded again.

When Steve came back, the nurse was going over his outpatient care. He helped Eddie to his feet and stood by as Eddie made his appointment.

They drove in comfortable silence, a smile on both their faces.

When Steve turned into Loch Nora instead of driving out to Wayne’s new house, Eddie frowned.

“Are we going to your place, then?” he asked.

Steve’s soft smile turned into a grin. “You’ll see.”

When they turned onto Steve’s street, Eddie could hear something like... cheering?

“What is that?” Eddie asked, but like Steve had all weekend, Steve had remained silent.

A head of them on Steve’s lawn, Eddie could make out signs and balloons.

“Steve...” he whined.

“Yes, babe?”

Eddie buried his head in hands. “You’re going to kill me. That what this is. You have decided that Vecna couldn’t do it, so you are going to finish the job by killing me in the cruelest way possible. KINDNESS.”

Steve laughed. “Just wait.”

Eddie tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this to me, man. I haven’t had so much outpouring of love my entire life. Like sure, I had friends, and my Uncle Wayne. But camaraderie and quiet affection are nothing like the sheer amount of love you have shown me over and over again this weekend.”

Steve stopped the car for a moment and turned to face him. “If this is too much, I can call it off. I can take you home and we can have a nice quiet afternoon and we can do this some other day.”

Eddie took a deep breath. And then another. He buried his face into his hands as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

“I mean it, Eddie,” Steve said, rubbing circles into his back. “I will turn this car around and we will go somewhere quiet and safe.”

Eddie let out a long shuddering sigh. “No. I think I’m okay now. I want to see our friends too.”

“If it gets too much, just go up to my bedroom and I’ll make your excuses, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

Steve pulled into his driveway and paused before opening the door. “Just one more thing. We don’t have to tell them about the change in our relationship today, tomorrow or ever, if you want. I leave that entirely up to you.”

Eddie gulped. “But it’s about you, too. Why are you leaving it up to me?”

“Because if it was up to me,” Steve murmured, “I would put it on every billboard, marque, and in every newspaper in town.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “You would?”

“But I’m new to this whole gay relationship thing,” Steve continued. “I vaguely have an idea what could happen if I did that. But no real experience. I’m guess you do.”

Eddie bit his lip, but nodded.

“And that’s why you’re in charge of who knows and when,” Steve said. “I know Wayne already knows, and Robin would be fine with it because she helped me with this weekend. So other than her and maybe Nancy, no one knows that the real plan for the weekend was to woo except those three. So if you want to wait about telling everyone else. Or in small batches, that’s fine, too. I want you to feel comfortable about us being together.”

Eddie took his hand. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Steve gave it a squeeze and then opened the door. Eddie scrambled to get out the car.

“They aren’t going to jump out and scare me, are they?” Eddie asked, sheepishly.

“If they do, you’ll have to help me hide all the bodies,” Steve said with a wink. “Because I’d murder them.”

Eddie laughed and followed Steve into the house. There wasn’t anyone in the foyer so that helped Eddie relax a little.

“You see that room at the top of the stairs?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded. “That’s my bedroom. If it gets too much, head straight there. Okay?”

Eddie nodded again. Steve wrapped him up in a big hug and Eddie clung to him for a moment.

Eddie took a step back. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.”

Steve nodded and opened a door on the side. It led to a large room with lots of large couches and a TV with huge sound system.

There were also a shit ton of people there too. His Uncle Wayne, his friends from Corroded Coffin. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, Erica, too. Max was still in the hospital, but it was still nice to see the other kids there. Robin and Nancy were there too. But there were a couple of new faces he didn’t recognize. Two boys and a girl.

Eddie vaguely recognized the shorter of the two boys, having gone to school with Jonathan Byers. Which meant that the other boy must be his brother Will. You would have had to have been living under a rock to not know who he was. But the kid had certainly shot up like a sprout, though. Holy hell, Eddie was almost sure the kid was taller than he was.

Which left Supergirl. The one they had hoped would kill Vecna and had. Steve may have hauled his ass out of hell, but there wouldn’t have been anything left to save if she hadn’t have gotten to Max in time.

There were welcome home signs for both Eddie and Steve. Steve blushed.

“Come on, guys,” Steve muttered, “I’ve been out for a week.”

“Yes,” El said, glowering. “And it was a miscarriage of justice that Eddie got a welcome home party and you didn’t.” She glared at Nancy and Robin in particular, who looked away bashfully.

Eddie blinked at her and decided. Yup. He liked her. She was his new favorite.

Will nudged her with elbow and whispered something in her ear. She smiled sweetly at them which actually might be worse than the glaring.

But it broke the dam and suddenly everyone was coming up and welcoming them home.

Eddie grinned over Dustin’s head at Steve who was getting just as many hugs as he was.

Steve blushed harder and Eddie cackled.

The two of them were ushered over to sofa to sit down as they were brought food and drink. There was laughter and good times.

About half way through, Robin came over to sit by Steve while Eddie was engaged in conversation with about a campaign he wanted to start now that he was out.

She bumped his shoulder. “She was right you know. El, I mean.”

Steve looked over at El as she chatted excitedly with Dustin about his latest experiments.

“Yeah, she was.”

Robin looked down at her hands. “You were only in the hospital for like a day, but you were still hurt and needed to be celebrated too.”

Steve covered her hands with his. “Sometimes I think I’m like glass to them.” He jutted his chin out to the rest of the room. “Completely see through and only thought about when I’m useful.”

She wrapped one of her hands on top of his, their hands completely intertwined. “I know it can feel that way sometimes, but none of these people would be here without you.”

“It is my house,” Steve deadpanned.

Robin bumped his shoulder again. “Not like that, Dingus!”

He chuckled.

“They love you,” she whispered.

Steve nodded, fighting back tears.

Eddie leaned over just then and whispered, “That thing you offered me? That’s good for you too, sweetheart.”

Robin looked at them quizzically. “What does that mean?”

“It means, fair Birdie,” Eddie said with a grin. “That if either one of us is feeling overwhelmed, we can take a breather and the other one will cover for us.”

Robin tilted her head. “Count me in, too. In case both of you need a break at the same time.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Both boys blushed.

Dustin came over and pulled Steve to his feet, dragging him away from Eddie and Robin so that they could chat with El.

“You should meet Jonathan’s friend, Argyle,” El said in lieu of greeting. “He’s nice. He helped us get across country and he didn’t have to. But he didn’t feel like it was appropriate to crash a party for people he hasn’t met.”

Steve rubbed her head. “Is that a bid for a pool party, Supergirl?”

“Please don’t touch my head,” she whispered.

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because they shaved it again, huh?” She nodded. “Then I won’t do it until it’s grown back some, okay?”

“Thank you for respecting my boundaries,” El said.

He kissed the top of her head. “Anytime, Supergirl.”

She giggled. “And of course it’s a bid for a pool party. When it gets warmer.” She shivered. “There wasn’t much to like about California, but it being warm all the time was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” Steve said. “And when Max wakes up, you can tell her all about it.”

“I did tell her over the phone,” El said with a frown.

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “But I’m sure she’d love to hear it again all the same.”

El cocked her head. “I’m not sure I understand, but Hop and Joyce has both said the same thing, so I will do so.”

Will pulled Eddie and Steve aside when most of the crowd had thinned out and gone home. It was El, Will, Jonathan, Robin, and Wayne that were left besides Steve and Eddie.

“I didn’t want to give you these in front of everyone,” he began. “Mike would have flipped his shit.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each in confusion.

“Give us what?” Eddie asked.

He handed one rolled canvass to Eddie and the other to Steve. “I was talking to everyone and they were saying how amazing and awesome you guys were in helping take down Vecna, so I painted these.”

Steve unrolled his first. There was Steve, but a more badass barbarian version of himself in leather armor ripping a demobat in half.

“Wow, Will,” he murmured. “This is awesome!”

Eddie looked over his shoulder and whistled long and low. “That’s about what it looked like to be honest. Only this idiot was barefoot.”

Will turned to Steve in shock. “Barefoot?”

Steve blushed. “I had been swimming like seconds before that, so yeah. No shoes.”

Will shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Eddie unfurled his. There was Eddie as a medieval bard on top of a mountain, playing guitar. He put his hand over his mouth to stop them from quivering. “Oh.”

Steve looked over at it. “I don’t quite understand what he’s supposed to be.” He blushed from embarrassment expecting Will and Eddie to dogpile him the way Mike and Dustin did.

“He’s a bard,” Will explained. “They’re like warrior musicians. Most of them sing, but instruments are a big part of what makes a bard.”

Eddie smiled. “And big part of what a bard does is called bardic inspiration. It gives everyone able to hear their song, boosts to their stats.”

Steve nodded. “That’s definitely Eddie.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in his face.

Will cocked his head to the side. “Wait...are you two...like together?”

Eddie and Steve shared a slightly panicked glance.

Will smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He looked down at the floor. “I mean not all the rumors about me are wrong, so...”

Steve and Eddie frowned for a moment trying to remember all the bullshit that had been thrown around by bullies.

Eddie hit on it first. “You’re gay!” he whisper yelled.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “That makes sense. I’m bisexual myself. But yeah. Your secret is safe with us, too.”

Will blushed.

“We aren’t the only ones either,” Steve said with a wink. “Let’s just a birdie told me there is a lesbian in our Party too.”

Will mouthed the word birdie a couple of times before his eyes went wide. “Oh!”

Eddie and Steve cackled.

“Hey Robs!” Steve called out. “Can you come here for a moment?”

Robin broke off from talking to El and wandered over. “What’s up, Dingus?”

“Will was just saying how hard it was to find other queers in Hawkins,” Steve explained.

Robin snorted. “Dude, you landed among three of the biggest queers in the whole state.”

Will’s smile lit up his whole face. “Duly noted.”

“Hey, Will,” Jonathan said. “I’m ready to leave. Are you?”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” he said and then gave all three of them a hug. He hesitated a moment and then joined El and Jonathan. They all said goodbye.

That left Wayne, who was leaning against the door frame and Robin.

“You staying the night, Ed?” Wayne asked. “Or are you coming home with me?”

Eddie looked back at Steve, nervously.

“You haven’t been able to spend much time with your Uncle, Eds,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay if that’s what you want to do.”

Eddie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Steve smiled softly. “It’s a date.” He winked and Eddie blushed.

He pulled Eddie in close for a gentle kiss. “I love you, sunshine.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back.

Eddie and Wayne were almost to the door when they heard Robin squeal.

“You better tell me everything!”

***

Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20    

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

[abarelysapientpairofshoes]

Hey! I'm working on writing a (as of now untitled) fic about Siffrin Not Being Okay But Working Towards It post canon! Since I'm still almost a week from my Ao3 invitation coming in but I still want to share a bit of it, here's a little excerpt from what I have so far!

CW for mentions of self harm under the cut

Oh. You barely catch Isabeau very pointedly not looking at your arm. Your right arm. The arm attached to the hand he held to pull you up off the ground. The arm you covered in stars (they’re scars but it’s easier to think of them as stars it’s easier to think of them as stars) during the last loop. Did he notice? Stars, you hope he didn’t notice. He’s already worried enough about you as it is.

Isabeau smiles at you. It’s bigger than the little one but it’s still a good smile. Maybe he didn’t notice. “You know,” he says, “I learned a little trick from a certain amazing-cute-funny-cool person that’ll help you calm down. First, take a big breath in…”

Your face feels hot again. This time it’s nice though. You’re this certain amazing-cute-funny-cool person and you can tell he means each and every one of those four words. You laugh.

He… didn’t notice?

Isabeau laughs too. “Hey! That’s not how it goes! You gotta take a big breath in…”

You don’t even think before hitting him with “Yes Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau!”

It’s the first time he’s heard this one and he practically melts in front of you.

[arda-ancalima]

Fowl Language

Rating: G Characters: Kazuma Asogi, Gina Lestrade, Barok van Zieks Words: 1,293

For @tgaa-gen-week Day 7 - Free Day (just a little something silly to finish off the week!)

-

When the work day had come to an end at last, Kazuma tried to shake off his irritations. Van Zieks had been especially petty lately, at least it seemed to him, and his patience with the man was wearing thin.

Kazuma paid for the fish and chips and sat down next to Gina on a bench where she was winding her watch.

“Ta,” she mumbled, slipping the watch in her pocket and taking the cone he handed her.

Taking a bite of his piping hot chips, Kazuma watched her through the corner of his eye. She was idly munching on her food while watching people pass with a wistful look in her eye. It didn’t take a great detective to guess she was thinking about the watch’s previous owner.

“Lestrade,” Kazuma said, deciding to cheer her up. “I want you to help me with something.”

“Wot,” she said disinterestedly.

“I want to know how to swear in English.”

Gina glanced at him sidelong. “Come on. You must know. Ya learned English in that fancy university o’ yours, didn’t ya?”

“They don’t teach crude language in the classroom,” Kazuma said, crossing his arms.

“Sure, but weren’t you a sailor and all? You must’ve ‘eard ‘em all then.”

Technically deck hand, a much less impressive job, but he wasn’t about to correct her. “The crew communicated in English, but no one spoke it as their native language. I learned to swear in Russian, Chinese, and Dutch, but not English.”

“Then wot ‘bout while you’ve been livin’ ‘ere? Just go down t’ the pub or somethin’.”

Maybe if he had someone to go with, or had any energy left after a day of keeping up with his mentor’s unrelenting pace. “Look, I know a few words, but you have the most colorful language of anyone I know. I just want a handful of expressions I can use when Lord van Zieks is being a pain. Rattle him a little.”

“Oh. Oh, I get it. It’ll be a prank, then?” Gina got a little gleam in her eye. “I’ll help ya, ‘Sogi.”

Kazuma was pleased to see her perk up. “Great. So what’s a decent insult I could use?”

Humming, Gina considered a moment, then said something in his ear.

“Why are you whispering?” Kazuma said, drawing back.

“It’s impolite t’ say these in public, ya know,” Gina said. “There’s kiddies around.”

There weren’t any within earshot of their bench, but then again she understood British culture better than he did. “I guess so. But that doesn’t sound very rude.”

“Oi, you’re askin’ my advice. I’m the expert ‘ere.”

“Right, right.” Kazuma put up his hands. “How about an exclamation of surprise?”

“Surprise, eh? Ooh, I got one for ya!” She whispered something else to him.

“Hm. I suppose that does sound a bit off-color. Any others I should know?”

“One ya say when you’re proper angry. The worst o’ the lot.” Gina lowered her voice. “The F word.”

Kazuma was intrigued. “What is it?”

Gina glanced around, then pulled him close and whispered a word in his ear.

“Is it really that bad?” Kazuma pulled back with a raised eyebrow. “That sounds like two ordinary words.”

Nodding seriously, Gina said, “Oh yeah. That’ll scandalize ‘im for sure.”

“Good. Well, thanks. He’s going to be shocked when I throw these at him.”

“Oh, ‘e’ll be surprised, all right.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

“Ha! I’d like to see that.” Gina went back to her food, munching with more vigor, and Kazuma was satisfied that he had accomplished his mission. At least the first part.

He didn’t have to wait long for the second part, as van Zieks was in a mood again the next day.

“Mr. Asogi, go pick up the autopsy report.”

“Yes, I’ll do that as soon as I’ve—”

“No, do it now.”

Every word of his since he arrived had felt short and prickly, and his instructions were more like demands. Kazuma had enough.

“Fine,” he said. Then just loud enough for van Zieks to hear, he added, “Son of a motherless goat.”

Van Zieks glanced up from his desk with a brief look of bafflement, but his ever present scowl slid back into place. “Why are you still standing there?”

Kazuma sighed and grabbed his coat. It wasn’t as satisfying a reaction as he hoped for, but it was a start.

On another occasion, they were at a crime scene where they learned of evidence that changed their entire understanding of the case.

Kazuma shook his head. “Gee willikers.”

Van Zieks narrowed his eyes as he took in the scene. “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

Kazuma was a bit surprised van Zieks didn’t chide him for his rude language. It seemed like the sort of thing he would take issue with in his apprentice. But maybe he was so distracted by rethinking the case that he didn’t fully take in what Kazuma said.

Another day, Kazuma had spent hours working out an approach to their prosecution, writing a lengthy report explaining it and double checking his work. When he finished, he explained his theory to van Zieks, going point by point through his argument. Van Zieks listened without interruption, sitting back in his chair with his face as impassive as usual.

“Mr. Asogi,” he said at last. “The argument you have laid out is impressive, and you’ve improved in your presentation.”

Kazuma would have been pleased by the praise, had he not been able to hear the “but” coming from a mile away. He sighed. “What is it?”

“I wonder if you’ve forgotten the first witness we spoke to.”

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. He had completely forgotten. It dismantled his entire case, and he would have to start over from the beginning.

He was so upset with himself that without thinking he swore terribly.

“Fiddlesticks.”

Van Zieks’ eyes were on him immediately and Kazuma realized what he said. He had been hoping to save that one for when van Zieks really deserved it, and this had been Kazuma’s fault entirely. He would just have to make the most of it.

But van Zieks’ expression changed from neutrality to mirth, and to Kazuma’s great astonishment, he laughed.

It was brief and quickly hidden behind the grim set of his mouth, but Kazuma knew he didn’t imagine it.

Once he had recovered from the shock, he remembered what had made him laugh in the first place and grew indignant.

“W-What’s so funny about all this? I spent all day on that report!”

“It’s not that, it’s—” Van Zieks’ lip quirked upward again. “Where did you learn that word?”

Trying to reign in his embarrassment, Kazuma said, “Wh— does that matter? It’s an expletive, everyone knows that. I might have picked it up in a pub or something.”

Van Zieks shook his head. “Someone has been pulling your chain. I had wondered where the sudden use of innocent exclamations came from.”

“Innocent?!” Kazuma tightened his fists. “You mean fiddlesticks isn’t a dirty word?!”

“I can’t say I know the meaning, but it is regarded as harmless.”

“You teach me something, then. Tell me the worst word you know!”

“No. Now I believe, Mr. Asogi, that you have a great deal of work to catch up on. You better get started.”

“Argh…” I have a certain Inspector I need to pay a visit.

When Kazuma stormed up to Gina’s desk at Scotland Yard, she took one look at his furious face and lit up in glee.

“Did you say ‘em?”

“Darn you, Gina Lestrade,” Kazuma growled, slamming her desk. “Darn you to hell!”

She laughed her face off.

-

Bonus incorrect quote:

Kazuma: Oh, spare me the sanctimonious lecture. You never cared about me. In the words of one of my actual friends: ya basic. It's a cockney insult. It's devastating. You're devastated right now.

Van Zieks: …?

[kendrene]

“I think you’re angry.”

Ava opens her eyes. Pushes up from where she’s lying, where Lilith left her, sprawled starfish-style on the training mats, clothes soaked through with sweat. She blinks.

“Pardon?”

“I think,” Mary’s foot taps against her side. “That you’re mad.”

“At Lilith?” Ava would wiggle away, but she’s too tired. “Nah.” As far as Ava understands it, Lilith was next in line to become Warrior Nun. After the last, the one they all talk of in hushed whispers when they think Ava’s not listening. When Mary isn’t around. Instead Lilith was passed over once and now Ava is here, and it doesn’t matter that she was a vacant body at the right time. To Lilith it doesn’t. “I’m not angry at her.” She’s had a lifetime worth of people punching down. It would be energy wasted. “I’m not mad at anybody. So.” Ava lifts a hand, makes a shooing gesture. Mary doesn’t move.

Annoying.

“Bullshit.” The toe of Mary’s boot is steel-clad, and when she digs in more roughly it actually begins to hurt. “I think you’re lying.”

“Whatever.” Mary draws her leg back, foot threatening more poking, and Ava rolls to her side. Pushes on all fours before it can connect. “Look, if you could go and do your thinking elsewhere—”

“Nope.” Ava expects more prodding, but Mary holds a hand down for her to take. Open. Beckoning. “Come on. I’ll show you something that’ll help.”

“I said I’m not mad!” Ava is starting to feel somewhat irritated. She just wants to flop back on the mats and close her eyes. Sleep, maybe. The halo burns, coal nestled in the cradle of her shoulder blades, a shower of embers down her spine. Every spot that Lilith hit during their sparring session — and she hit many — hurts. A nap sounds nice. Much better than this thing Mary insists she wants to show her. Nothing can be more important than sleep. If Ava could pick, she’d sleep for a week.

But she doesn’t have a choice, because Mary is dragging her to a corner of the training facility she’s never seen the other recruits use. There, a bag hangs from a hook, the kind Ava’s seen Sylvester Stallone work on in Rocky. She still remembers watching the movie with Diego late one night, the TV muted, fear of discovery far outpaced by the thrill of doing something that they shouldn’t. They’d devoured the whole saga over the course of a sticky hot summer, Diego shadowboxing in what little space they had, Ava coaching him from her sickbed in the corner.

“Here.” A tangle of wraps thwaps Ava in the chest, and as she catches them, instincts kicking in, she wonders what it is with these people. They’re always either hitting her, or throwing something at her.

“I don’t know how to put them on.” Mary heaves a sigh, steps in to help. It’s a few minutes of fighting, of colorful curses, and once Mary’s hands fall away Ava has no heart to tell her the cotton wound tight around her hands feels all wrong.

“Now gloves.” Mary fits the boxing gloves to her hands, ties the straps around her wrists, clicks her tongue and ties them tighter. “Okay.” She gives Ava a shove toward the heavy bag that’s probably meant to be encouraging. In her fatigued state it risks toppling her over. “You’re all set.”

Ava is tired. Ava’s exhausted, really, but Mary seems hellbent on teaching her to fight. In all fairness, she could use the help.

“Okay.” She squares off, facing the bag. One foot slightly offsetting the other, hands up in front of her face, mimicking a guard position she’s only seen in films. Elbows tucked in. “Now what?”

“Now you punch it.”

“Now I—” Ava lets her hands drop. Turns around, incredulous. “That’s it? I just punch it? Aren’t you going to give me tips about stance, or something? What if it’s all wrong?”

“How the hell should I know if it’s wrong?” Mary nods to the bag. “That’s not the point. The point is I want you to punch the bag.”

“This is stupid.” Ava attacks one of the straps with her teeth, trying to undo it. “Get these off. I’m going to go take a nap.”

“Will you punch it just once? Trust me,” Mary grabs her by an elbow, surprisingly gentle, and steers her back to the bag. “Once. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“If I punch it once, will you leave me alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Deal.”

Ava closes her eyes. Draws in a breath, and when she opens them she’s Rocky in the ring. The last seconds of the last round against Apollo Creed. She lets fly a jab and the shock of the impact races up the length of her arm, numbing before sudden pain flares in her wrist.

“Again.” Mary says, and Ava pivots on the axis of her hip, bringing her other fist to bear. Left. Right. A strange feeling licks up from her gut, the taste of bile but more burning. Ava keeps punching.

“I think you’re angry at the hand you’ve been dealt.” Mary has moved behind her, is leaning in close to speak in her ear. “I think you’re mad that you died, that you had to leave your friend — Diego, is it? — behind.” A mean left hook has the bag swinging wildly. “And you’re angry because you’re alive, but you can’t live your life.” Mary lowers her voice, each word like salt on a wound Ava didn’t want to admit was still bleeding. “You were trying when we found you. You just wanna live, kid. Didn’t think your second chance would come with all these strings attached. Am I right?”

“Shut up.” Ava twists around, arm pulled back for a gut punch. If she weren’t crying, if she was a bit faster, if she actually knew what she’s doing, it might have a chance to connect. She has no clue. So it doesn’t. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ava throws herself forward blindly, seeking a clinch. Mary’s arms wrap around her, the fire winking out, and Ava crashes forward, face pressed to the crook of Mary’s neck.

“It’s okay.” Mary shushes, fingers splayed almost perfectly over the shape of the halo in Ava’s back. Like she’s done this before. Held another bearer just as close. “You’re okay, kid.”

“It’s not fair.” Ava wants to wrench herself away. She wants to never let go. “I didn’t want her to die.” The one she has no name for. The one who had died in the church, so that her friends could survive. So that Ava could live.

“I know.” Mary’s fingers twitch. Dig in. The halo grows hot. “Neither did I. But it is what it is, and it isn’t your fault.”

/

The gloves are old and well creased, inside padding so worn Ava’s knuckles still smart hours after she’s put them to use. Mary gave them to her. “She’d want you to have them” she’d said before leaving Ava at the door of her room.

She sits on the bed as the day outside dies, turning the right glove over and over. Follows the stitching with the tip of a finger, past the logo of a sports company that doesn’t exist anymore, to the inside of the glove’s strap where it’s attached at the wrist. To the set of initials hastily scribbled in black there, the ink mostly faded.

S

Mary had explained that, too. Who it stood for and what she had meant.

Ava clutches the glove to her chest. Curls over it, nose brushing warm leather. It smells of something sharp, something else a little woody.

She has a name now.

Her name was Shannon.