#their phonecall... greetings from the closet

[littlespoonevan]

As tempting as the titles with “Eddie” in them were also the mugging one adjsksks 👀 how about; "The One with the Chicken Pox" since it has sickfic vibes 🥹💖

Happy belated birthday, Amy my love!!!! 🥳🎉💖 this is technically a sick fic but it also very much follows the chicken pox storyline of the episode so uhhh enjoy lmao 😘

-

Buck has been awake approximately ten minutes when his phone rings.

“Hey Eds, what’s-“

“Christopher has chicken pox,” Eddie says before Buck can finish getting his greeting out.

“What? How?”

“Jeremy’s mom called me this morning,” he sighs. “Apparently he has it too and you know they had that sleepover the other night.”

“Is he okay?” Buck asks, already sitting up and pulling back his covers. Eddie wouldn’t be calling him about this so early in the morning if he wasn’t freaking out the tiniest bit.

Eddie blows out a breath as Buck rummages in his sock drawer for a clean pair.

“He’s fine; his temperature isn’t up or anything. The spots are just starting to develop and I’m trying to get him not to scratch but you know as soon as you tell someone something like that it’s-“

“All they want to do,” Buck finishes with a laugh. “I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten it before.”

“I thought he had,” Eddie says. “I mean obviously not since I’ve been home but I just figured it’d happened when I was overseas and Shannon never said.”

He sounds worried and disappointed in himself somehow. Like it’s his fault his kid is sick.

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world.” Buck pauses where he’s rifling through his closet for a hoodie. “We’ll keep an eye on his temperature and put socks on his hands to stop him from scratching and give him some cuddles and he’ll be fine.”

Eddie hums noncommittally on the other end of the line and Buck feels his mouth tug up in a smile. “I’m gonna get dressed and then I’ll head to the store and pick up some supplies. Can you think of anything you need?”

Eddie sighs again and Buck has the very real urge to try and hug him through the phone. “Thanks, Buck. You’re a life saver. Maybe just stop by the pharmacy to get some cream? I think I have everything else.”

“Got it,” he replies, balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he shrugs on his sweatpants. “I’ll be there soon.”

Eddie says something then but his response is muttered too low for Buck to hear. He frowns, catching the phone with his hand again and putting it up to his other ear.

“What’d you say?”

“I said,” Eddie says – sighing for the third time in a three minute phonecall. “That I might also have chicken pox.”

Buck freezes at the top of the stairs. “What.”

“I also have chicken pox,” Eddie huffs, adding a begrudging, “I found the first spot right before I called you.”

“Eddie, that’s-“

“Don’t you dare fucking laugh, Buckley-“

“I’m not laughing!” Buck exclaims, even though he’s pretty sure Eddie can detect the smile in his voice anyway. “I’m- I’ll pick you up some cream too, okay?”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie mumbles and the urge to hug him through the phone comes back again.

“I’m on my way.”

*

He’s just left the pharmacy when Maddie calls him and Buck promptly remembers their brunch plans he’s now definitely late for.

He turns on his Bluetooth as he pulls out of the parking lot and answers her call.

“Hey Maddie, sorry I completely flaked on breakfast; Eddie called this morning and told me he and Chris have chicken pox,” he explains. “I’m just on my way over there to-“

“You can’t go over there!”

Maddie’s shout is so shrill he almost slams on the breaks.

“What? Why?”

“Evan,” she says in that distinctive maternal voice Buck always associates with her reprimanding him for pulling dumb stunts as a teenager. “You’ve never had chicken pox.”

“What? Yes, I have.”

“Not as long as I was living in the same house as you, you didn’t,” Maddie scoffs. “Believe me, I would’ve remembered.”

She would’ve been the one taking care of him. He knows that much.

“But- How have I-“

“I don’t know. Some people never get it,” she says. “Look, just stay away from them for a few days until they aren’t contagious anymore.” She sounds sceptical though. Like she already knows the list of reasons he would stay away from the Diaz house is basically non-existent.

Buck feels his brow furrow and he resists the urge to pout.

“Buck, you know getting chicken pox as an adult can be more dangerous,” she says gently. “They’ll be okay without you.”

He hums vaguely, still not actually doing anything to turn the car around and drive away from Eddie’s place. It’s only when he’s trying to come up with some excuse to Maddie for why he should still go over there that he realises he’s scratching his arm. And has been scratching his arm for the last few minutes.

He thinks back to last night – on Eddie’s couch with Christopher squashed between them as they all took turns eating from the same tub of ice-cream.

Welp.

“Uh Mads? Funny story…”

*

Hen ends up being the one to come over and check on them all since Denny’s already had chicken pox.

“You should be fine,” she says once she’s finished her inspection. “Just monitor yourselves and Chris for any signs of fever or infection. Wear loose clothes, stay hydrated and, well, try not to scratch.”

“Easy for you to say,” Eddie grouses, rubbing agitatedly at his neck before forcing himself to stop. Buck feels itchy just looking at him.

“Hey, try and set an example for Chris, alright? If you two aren’t scratching, he won’t either.”

Chris is currently in bed. He’d been up when Buck had arrived over but as the morning had worn on he’d started to get achy – and cranky – so they’d convinced him to go back to bed for a little while with the bribe of his iPad to keep him occupied.

“We’ll be good,” Buck says with a winning smile. “Promise.”

Hen narrows her eyes, glancing between the two of them before she rolls her eyes. “Call if you need anything, alright?” She hikes her med kit over her shoulder and levels them both with a look. “I’m serious. Karen and I can take Chris if you two aren’t up to taking care of him.”

“Thanks, Hen,” Eddie says, hands moving like he’s about to reach out to hug her before he remembers he shouldn’t.

“I’ll see myself out,” she snorts. “Later, Itchy and Scratchy.”

Buck shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. As soon as he hears the door close he turns to Eddie.

“Think the storyline in your telenovela is dramatic enough to distract us from the need to itch?”

Eddie makes a face but Buck can tell he’s trying not to smile. Eventually he rolls his eyes and says, “It might be.”

They spend the afternoon taking turns checking on Chris and he even comes out to hang out on the couch with them around dinner time but Buck can feel himself growing lethargic as the day wears on. It’s not like when he has the flu or anything he’s just…off. And frustrated because he can’t stop thinking about scratching. Even with the cooling gel and his own – admittedly decent – self-restraint, it’s on his mind every second.

He can see Eddie isn’t faring much better and by the time Chris is in bed for the night he’s pretty sure they’re both at the end of their tether.

“This is the worst,” he complains, flopping down on the couch. He shuffles in place, the textured material of the cushion offering barely there relief for the itch in his back. “Dude, no one said this virus was so fucking annoying.”

“We just need something to distract ourselves,” Eddie says but he already sounds distracted. When Buck looks over he’s picking at a patch of skin over his knee. He’d changed into shorts after Hen’s assertion to wear loose clothes but Buck thinks having more skin on show may have been counter-productive.

Still, it gives him an idea.

“How about, I hold you and you hold me?”

Eddie pauses, looking up at him in confusion. “What?”

“If my arms are around you, I can’t scratch. And if your arms are around me, you can’t either.” It’s solid logic. Or at least it is to his slightly unhinged, chicken-pox addled brain.

(Also, he feels shitty and he’d kind of like a hug right now.)

Logical or not, Eddie seems happy to go with it, reaching for Buck’s shoulder to pull him in. He ends up tucked against Eddie’s side, his arm around Eddie’s middle while Eddie’s arm is draped over his shoulders. And Buck can’t lie, at first he really doesn’t think about scratching. Because Eddie is a warm, solid weight against him and he smells nice even with the vague antiseptic smell of the cream slathered all over him and he’s just comfortable.

He almost thinks he could fall asleep with the steady thump of Eddie’s heart right by his ear but then he slowly becomes aware of the way Eddie’s index finger is drawing patterns over his arm. It seems like a mostly unconscious move but it just alerts Buck to the itch under his skin again.

He tries to ignore it but then he feels Eddie shifting against him and, as if on autopilot, Buck scratches his stomach over his t-shirt and Eddie relaxes again.

Within a few minutes they’re both legitimately just scratching each other’s itches – and not at all in the fun way Buck has always privately dreamed about.

“I think this is a new low in our relationship,” he comments as Eddie’s fingers rake over his spine.

Eddie laughs, letting out a breath when Buck runs his nails over the side of his neck. “We can never tell Hen and Chim about this.”

“Never,” Buck agrees. “We should probably stop though.”

“Yeah, we should.”

Reluctantly, Buck stills his hand and feels Eddie’s do the same on his back and it’s only then he really realises how they’re positioned. With the way they’d been moving he’s practically straddling Eddie’s lap now. Eddie’s hand sits low on his back and his own hand is still gently cupping Eddie’s neck and their faces-

Their faces are a lot closer than before.

After a moment Eddie’s eyes flicker down to his mouth and Buck feels something inside him snap.

“I know another way we could distract each other,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can help himself.

“Yeah?”

Buck nods and uses the motion to bump his forehead against Eddie’s before dragging their mouths together. Eddie’s breath hitches and the hand he’d had on Buck’s back twists itself up in the fabric of his t-shirt to urge him closer. Buck makes a noise against his mouth and does his best to actually straddle Eddie this time, nipping at Eddie’s lip and curling a hand into his hair.

Eddie draws him in, licking into Buck’s mouth at the same time his hands snake underneath Buck’s t-shirt to touch bare skin.

It’s maddening but in the best fucking way.

And as Buck digs his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s shoulders he thinks maybe they’ll get to scratch that other itch after all.

[curapicas]

RIP Yagihara Mami who thought to herself "I can't be Touma's girlfriend nor do sports like his other male friends... oh I know, I'll share his interests in games, I like those! And will finally be nice to Ichinose, they get along so well", thus getting friendly to the one person that getting friendly with would actually upset Touma

[tetsvhoe]

SOBER THOUGHTS, DRUNK CONFESSIONS

in which they say things they really don’t mean

character/s: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre/s: angst to fluff, no more clickbait for the fluff part

warning/s: drinking obviously, also for future characters in this series if ever

gwen’s notes 🤍: thought about this one night it hurt so good i couldn’t stop thinking about it i may or may not merge my other angst to fluff requests into this series ty ty wrote this shit at 2am i apologize for the mistakes

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

kuroo tetsuro has been drinking considerably a lot more than usual and you think nothing of it even as he pairs it with avoidance. he’s probably overwhelmed with work, you tell yourself. you trust him even as he’s out all night with bokuto and other friends from high school and you trust that he will tell you what’s been bothering him whenever he is ready. you are in for a surprise when he does.

you answer a phonecall from bokuto at an ungodly hour in the night, only to be greeted back with his struggling grunts and grumbles.

“so sorry to call you this late,” he pants. you hear kuroo slurring his words in the background, something about wanting to do more shots. you slip on a pair of fluffy slippers and make your way to the closet to change your clothes as you listen to bokuto’s incident report. “i don’t think i can get kuroo back home safely. do you think you can drive here to come pick him up?” he sounds apologetic and expectant.

you chuckle lightly into the phone as you quickly pull a sweatshirt over your head. “i figured this would happen. i’m on my way, just text me the address.”

bokuto, a whole professional athlete, barely manages to haul your boyfriend out of the bar and into your passenger seat. you each take one of kuroo’s arm over your shoulder and all but drag his long lanky legs across the pavement. you begin to question how you’re supposed to get him out of the car and into your apartment later on, debating on whether or not you should just leave him to sleep in the car if all else fails.

kuroo is slumped against the door, his limbs a tangled mess in the tight space which is usually for you. the drive home is quiet save for his soft snores. as you reach to turn the music volume down, he stirs awake, snuggling his head against the misted window.

“what are you doing here?”

you spare him a momentary glance, an amused smile on your lips. “someone had a little too much to drink and couldn’t get home,” you tease.

“i could have gotten home just fine,” he grumbles.

“i’m sure you would, baby but i feel much better picking you up myself.”

“seriously,” his voice is suddenly cold and stern, making you do a double take while you navigate the road. “i can take care of myself. i don’t need you hovering over me all the damn time.”

your heart unexpectedly lurches to your stomach at his ill fitted sudden outburst, but you steady your breathing and hands on the steering wheel. you wonder what could possibly be plaguing his mind for him to act this way, still giving him the benefit of the doubt. “what has gotten into you, tetsu? you must be tired. we’re almost home‒”

“you know what’s gotten to me,” he slurs, cutting you off. he lifts his head just to quickly shoot you a vindictive glance, something uncalled for and completely throws you off guard. “is the realization that you’re too fucking clingy and i have no idea how much more of this i can take.”

the air in your lungs is knocked out of you, tears leave a trail of warmness down your cheeks before you could even try and stop them from flowing. you grip the steering wheel tightly in your hands, voice breaking as you reply. “you’re just drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” it sounds like a lie when you hear yourself say it, for you more than for him.

he scoffs, eyes fluttering close again. “these thoughts didn’t just occur to me now that i’m drunk. but i am only now drunk enough to finally say them.”

you harshly bite on your lip to contain the sob you felt coming and nod wordlessly. afterall, what more could you say to that?

kuroo didn’t get much sleep in the hot and stuffy car on top of feeling like his head was being hammered in. whether you left him there because you couldn’t get him out or perhaps because of what he said, he knew he deserved it nonetheless. he drags himself inside and is surprised to find you cooking in the kitchen. you can barely look him in the eyes, and he pads awkwardly towards you.

you aren’t sure how to approach the situation or if he still remembers what happened last night so you figured you could gauge the situation yourself. now you know that is so much harder than you made it out to be.

kuroo remembers. he remembers all of it so vividly and a part of himself wishes he just blacked out and forgotten because he still hears your cries and sniffles at the back of his head.

“good morning.” he’s the first to try to initiate a conversation as he casually slips into a chair, and you fake a smile painfully. “sorry you had to pick me up.”

“it’s fine.” that’s the last thing you should be worried about.

“i had one too many drinks.” just keep believing i was drunk out of my mind and didn’t mean anything i said.

you almost topple over the pan when you feel your heart twisting in your chest again, feeling the need to steady yourself by gripping the edges of the counter until your knuckle turns white. kuroo notes that you look like you’re almost about to pass out so he pushes himself off the chair and rushes to hold you against his chest. you recoil at the touch, your eyes suddenly stinging.

“sorry i‒” you breathe, focusing your gaze on the ground. “i can’t‒i don’t want to be with you right now, i need air.”

he tries to run after you out the door but decides against it. he’s left alone with his thoughts in the barren apartment with a half-cooked breakfast you still made for him despite last night and almost loses his mind thinking about how you’re going to come back only to leave him. he was stupid and hypocritical.

you cautiously slide back in after you somewhat gather your thoughts during a long walk, not wanting to confront him yet out of sheer exhaustion, but he bolts to the living room when he hears the door open, halting when your eyes flicked over to him. what now? he thinks to himself.

“you’re back,” he announces but says it more like a question. you give him a small nod. “can we talk?”

“about?”

“last night.”

“oh.” your mouth fall slack and you nod slowly while you kick your shoes off, he knows. “okay.” your voice is quiet and your gaze low, never quite landing on his eyes.

he didn’t know what to expect but the sheer lack of anger and overall reaction from you scares him.

“i remember saying a lot of nasty things to you last night,” he starts off, fiddling with his hands as he watches you take a seat on the couch. you don’t encourage him to continue, nor do you cut him off to reply, you just listen blankly. “i didn’t mean any of it and you were right, i wasn’t really thinking because i was drunk‒”

“you said you didn’t get those thoughts when you were drunk.”

“i know‒”

“how long have you been feeling that way?”

kuroo’s eyebrows furrow and tears brim his eyes when you finally look at him and he can’t discern the emotion behind your eyes. “a little over two weeks.”

“why didn’t you talk to me about it then?”

he finds that he can’t take the weight of your gaze so he looks at the floor instead. “i was afraid that i was feeling that way, i took it out on you last night. i’m sorry.” you hear soft sniffles and though you hate seeing him cry, you didn’t have it in you to console him with your own heart still spasming painfully in your chest. “are you going to leave me?” he stutters between soft sobs, voice small.

you sigh, fighting back your own tears. “well i don’t really know what you want me to do, tetsuro‒”

“please don’t. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, i know i’m being difficult and stupid and rash but i’m going to make it up to you, i promise.” he walks over to you and lays his head on your lap, not minding the warm tears that wet your clothes.

“i think you’re all over the place, one moment you’re pushing me away the next you’re begging me to stay. i’m confused,” you mumble adamantly. “i never want to break up in the first place, you know. but when you go and say that… i don’t know, i think i need time to process my feelings.”

“i’ll give you all the time that you need,” he persuades, looking up at you with teary eyes and trembling lips.

“you have to learn you can’t just say those things and then take them back.” your hands gently comb through his hair absentmindedly.

he tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face onto your lap. “i know, i hurt you so much and i am so sorry. i’ll learn from my mistakes, i won’t ever do that or talk to you like that again,” he pleads like a little kid.

“don’t mess this up,” you sigh. your heart still thumps in your chest. you’re unsure if you can survive something like that again, but he promises you wouldn’t ever have to go through it again.

@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @coco96 @knmsapplepi @strawberryzos @iwasunshine @bidisaster1307 @jesssobs @asaitashi @singularly-gifted-witch @devilsbooksworld

[non-un-topo]

College, Car Seats, and Creamy Pasta (ficlet)

(This title, idk.) So I’ve been having feelings lately about the old guard with babies in modern aus, so here’s an experimental, kind of self-indulgent ficlet filled with extreme amounts of softness and bébé feels <3

_______________________________

There’s an infamous story all the way back from college that Joe loves to share which involves Andy drunkenly rolling her ankle on a beach and Joe having to carry her home--though, she could have walked, but Joe demanded to carry her--and fashioning an ice pack out of the only things he could find in his and Nicky’s tiny, decrepit apartment: A condom, and some ice from a small McDonald’s sprite (their freezer was broken when they moved in).

He lives to tell that story every chance he gets. Especially now, as he reaches into Andy and Quỳnh’s (much bigger and much colder) freezer nearly fifteen years later to retrieve a not-homemade ice pack and wrap it in a clean dishtowel for Andy’s poor crotch.

She’s lounging on the couch, even though she’s proven that she can walk, but Joe doesn’t mind, as she reaches back for the ice pack and shoots him a sly smile that says, Yeah, I know exactly which story you’re thinking about. He bats his eyelashes innocently back.

It’s a balmy Friday evening and Quỳnh’s still at work, though likely on her way home, so Joe has taken the liberty of cooking dinner. Andy begged to order a pizza, but Joe was not having it. And he thought himself to be the lax one of the bunch. If Nicky were in the kitchen at the time, it would have been anarchy.

“Thanks, Joe,” Andy says, as she settles into a more comfortable position on the couch with her ice pack, sighing. He adjusts the pillows at her back, which causes her to snort and slap his hand away.

“I’m not dying.”

Joe sniffs. “Yeah, coulda fooled me. How much did that baby weigh again?”

Andy laughs out a quiet, fuck off. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” she says, quick as a whip.

“God…”

The baby, the reason for Joe and Nicky’s visit to Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment, is fairly chunky, sure, but he looks awfully tiny and pink, especially when he’s wearing his little hat. The hat with little lamb ears that Nicky painstakingly knit for him months ago, when he was barely more than a bump, that rarely leaves his soft little head. Nicky hadn’t even known how to knit at the time.

The baby’s name is Lykon, after a childhood friend of Andy and Quỳnh. Lykon was born at 4:26 AM on Monday. It’s Friday evening. Joe and Nicky have not left the apartment since Andy and Quỳnh brought him home.

And neither Andy nor Quỳnh have physically kicked them out, so Joe is staying right here.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes ago to go change the baby while Andy napped, but he reappears then, slinking into the living room with Lykon held against his shoulder--he’s so little in Nicky’s hands, they almost swallow him--and Joe smiles at his husband in greeting before doing a double-take.

“Babe,” Joe says, and Andy cranes her neck to try and see Nicky over the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

Nicky continues his journey across the living room floor--lunges, he’s doing lunges. Deep ones that make Joe’s eyebrows jump up in appreciation.

Nicky releases a finger from his gentle grip on the baby’s head and presses it to his lips. “Shush.”

“You trying to get your ass workout in while carrying my son? Really?” Andy asks.

Nicky’s response is whispered so softly, Joe can hardly hear him. “This is the only way I can get him to sleep.”

“Put him in the car seat,” Andy says, like it’s the most simple solution in the world.

“He likes it,” Nicky argues, still whispering.

Andy only shrugs. “Okay, but if he spits up on you…”

And right on cue, Joe hears a tiny gurgle, and there’s baby puke sliding down Nicky’s back.

Andy doesn’t say, told you so, but she doesn’t need to. Her smug grin is enough. With a poorly hidden pout, Nicky reluctantly hands the baby, who is now crying quiet little wobbly squeals, to Andy.

“You know,” Andy says, “you guys don’t have to stay. You have other commitments, I know.”

It’s the first time since Lykon’s birth that she’s said something like that, and Joe is only moderately surprised to feel a sudden onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Or not,” she says, quickly. “We really appreciate your help, boys, it’s just… We don’t want to keep you.”

“Andy, shut up.”

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Okay, Joe, okay. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Nicky says. Then he leans over the couch to peer into Lykon’s squishy little face. “And we especially love you.”

His voice changes when he talks to the baby. While Joe can’t control the way his voice raises several octaves and the way he coos gibberish, Nicky’s voice softens and hushes to something so comfortable, barely audible. It’s the way he would talk to a fussy toddler, Joe thinks, given the opportunity. He would level his eyes with them and speak to them like a person equal to him, providing the safest and most non-judgemental space for them.

Joe thinks. He hasn’t had many opportunities to see his husband speak with toddlers.

“I would be worried about you guys kidnapping him,” Andy says, “but I think it only counts as kidnapping if you leave the apartment.”

Joe snorts, and then he hears the water boiling over on the stove, so he dashes.

When Joe met Andy and Quỳnh, he had been a wide-eyed twenty-year-old, freshly out of the closet and already hopelessly in love. Well, that hasn’t changed, which always delights him to realize, after all these years. It was the love of his young life--Nicky, of course--who introduced him. Andy and Nicky were family friends, more like siblings, really, and of course Andy and Quỳnh had been together since the dawn of time. It took Joe no time at all to find a family in the four of them, inseparable as they all were.

Andy and Quỳnh had actually surprised him when they started talking about kids. That unexpected and world-changing conversation had been the beginning of a long and at times heartbreaking four years, before they finally got their donor, then suffered through a little over a year of IVF. They had almost given up, Joe remembers, between the frustration and the arguments and doctors telling Andy her eggs were too old. But, there he was, at the end of the journey, coming into the world flipping off everyone who said they couldn’t do it: Baby Lykon, the little warrior.

Joe remembers all of it vividly. The phonecall when they told him and Nicky they were pregnant, the panic to help them find a bigger apartment, the indulgent shopping trips, though Andy tried to keep a cap on those, and the weight and warmth of the baby in Joe’s arms the very first time he held him, barely thirty minutes after he’d been born.

Joe had sobbed, of course (something Andy and Quỳnh had anticipated so strongly they bet money on how long he cried for), and he looked into the baby’s big brown eyes and promised him the world.

They had talked about kids. Of course, they had. He and Nicky. But life was busy, and in the last five years between Joe finishing his dissertation and Nicky’s mother getting sick, the subject of kids just hadn’t come up. Besides, Joe thinks now, he’s only thirty-three.

Quỳnh comes home as he’s dishing up dinner for everyone--a creamy, cheesy pasta, because it’s the best comfort food--and her eyes brim with tears when she gets to hold Lykon again. She hasn’t been able to get a lot of time off work, even after becoming a new parent, which Joe thinks is frankly outrageous, but the work she does as a crisis counsellor is of course monumentally important.

They huddle around the couch to eat dinner, but Nicky pulls up one of the rickety chairs from the kitchen table and sits next to the baby, who is snoozing in his car seat on top of the coffee table. Joe doesn’t know how he does it, but Nicky manages to eat his dinner, drink enough water, and hold a conversation while keeping Lykon’s car seat rocking gently so he doesn’t wake up and scream.

Joe watches him as he chews his pasta mindfully and leans close to peer into the car seat. Beautiful. He’s always so beautiful, especially now. The way he looks at Lykon--their nephew, Joe realizes, elated--makes Joe’s head spin off his shoulders. He feels like he’s twenty.

“Crazy how tiny he is,” says Quỳnh, her voice soft and reverent. She already sounds so much like a parent. Joe’s eyes are still on his husband, so he sees how brightly Nicky smiles at that.

Andy makes an indignant noise. “Shut the fuck up.”

Quỳnh laughs, though she tries with obvious effort to keep quiet. She pulls Andy closer, her arm draped over her shoulder, and presses three kisses to her cheek. Then Quỳnh catches Joe’s eye and winks.

Andy shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth and moans as she chews. With a full mouth, she says, “Joe, this is perfect. Please, boys, never leave.”

Joe shrugs bashfully, pretending to be shy. “It’s Nicky’s recipe.”

“What did you use,” Quỳnh asks.

Joe hums. He juts his chin to the kitchenette. “Your parmesan, mostly, and that fancy milk.”

“What fancy milk,” Andy asks, absolutely stuffing her face.

“Y’know.” Joe waves a hand. Chews, swallows. “The milk in the fancy bag, from the fridge.”

Andy and Quỳnh both stop eating, their eyes bugging out. Quỳnh slaps a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh and clearly choking a little, and Andy looks… Oh, Andy looks furious. Her face is red.

“J-” She forcefully lowers her voice, shooting a fearful glance at the baby. “Joe,” she whispers through her teeth. “Did you use my fucking breast milk?”

“Dio.” Nicky sticks his fork back into his dish.

“Oh,” Joe says, like an idiot. “Um.”

Andy’s cheeks puff out and somehow her face turns an even darker shade of red.

“I pumped…” she whispers, low and lethal, slow. “...For so… long…”

“There’s more in the fridge, babe,” Quỳnh says, and Joe fears for her life for a hot second. Then she brings her hand out to hover over Andy’s chest. “And it’s not like the tap is running dry, or whatever.”

“So I’m a milk bag.”

“A badass, sexy milk bag who--oh, who is murdering me with her eyes right now.” Quỳnh turns on Joe, then, scooping another forkful of breast-milk-pasta into her mouth and jabbing the fork in his direction. “You’re gonna be up all night paying my wife back for this, genius. See how skilfully you can wipe meconium from his bum.”

Joe only nods in shame. Fair enough.

Lykon signals that he’s awake, then, with a series of soft little snorty grunts that devolve very quickly into shrieking, wobbly sobs. Nicky launches into action with a speed that rivals the pitcrews at NASCAR. He lifts him from the car seat with such gentleness and oh, Joe’s heart breaks to see the baby’s little lips trembling as he cries, the way his little feet kick out against Nicky’s chest as he holds him over his forearms. Nicky is about to pass him to his moms when Quỳnh smiles softly up at him and says, “Looks like you’ve got him.”

He throws her a glance as if to ask, are you sure, and Quỳnh and Andy both nod. Joe’s sure they’re grateful to have the small amount of rest time and, looking at them now, curled together on the couch in their soft clothes, exchanging light kisses, he knows he and Nicky haven’t come close to overstaying their welcome.

“Look at you, Nico,” coos Andy as Nicky carefully holds the baby against his shoulder to peek at his diaper through the waistband his tiny pants. “You’re making us look bad.”

Nicky only chuckles lightly and shakes his head. The diaper must be clean, because he leaves it be and brings a hand up to cup the back of the baby’s wispy-haired head more steadily, and begins to hum, almost a whisper, and Joe’s heart flutters.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” Nicky asks Andy when the baby continues to fuss.

Turns out he is hungry, because he quiets almost immediately when Andy brings him to her chest. It’s not silent in the apartment--Joe can hear some sirens through the window on the streets far below, can hear the air conditioner groan to life, can hear Quỳnh and Nicky’s forks clink against their plates as they continue to eat the questionable breast-milk-pasta (good lord). And, Joe can hear the soft little grunts and snorts that the baby makes as he feeds.

Joe watches his oldest friends--they’re parents now, he can hardly believe it--as they huddle close on the couch and watch their son. Quỳnh wraps her arms under Andy’s so they’re both holding him, and his little chubby fist twitches and flings out every once in a while against Andy’s rolled-up shirt. His feet look impossibly small. Joe remembers the sounds he made when he and Nicky went shopping for all manner of baby supplies to help shave some stuff off Andy and Quỳnh’s list. He’d nearly sobbed when Nicky came up to the cart holding a pair of incredibly tiny socks (and then he had teared up and nearly passed out when Nicky popped the socks over his thumbs. A lot of people stared).

Joe would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of revisiting that store with Nicky every day since.

Now, he looks at his husband to find him already watching him, his heart in his eyes. Nicky slowly moves his gaze to their friends, to the baby, and Joe follows it. When their eyes meet again, Nicky’s are a little damp with tears, but he’s smiling, and there’s something inquisitive and hopeful in his eyes. Joe matches him and slowly, they both nod.

Yes.

[sandwichrin]

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 19)

Chapter 19 - Some truth

Word count: 4.8k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Hi~ Chapter 19 is here, yay! Hope you all enjoy this one 🧡

The next day came along, and as usual, you arrived at work early since you were still hoping that maybe the staff that you should be tutoring might come and see you today.

And so, just like yesterday, you waited in your seat in the meeting room on that 4th floor that you’ve been assigned to.

As you were staring into space, a familiar figure entered the doorframe.

“Oh my god look at you…” the voice said, startling you.

You turned to look at the owner of the voice—you rolled your eyes the moment you saw who it was.

“Chani, what are you doing here,”

Chani leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms against his chest and smirked at you, “I just wanted to see how you’re doing today. You seemed really down yesterday so I expected you to be all mopey or I don’t know, maybe laying on the floor and crying but nope! You seem fine,”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Ha ha,” you laughed sarcastically. “I’m not that dramatic. Besides, they’ll show up today! I just know it!” you said in a very motivated tone.

This earned a laugh from Chani. “Okay y/n. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You smiled a little at him. “Sure.”

“Okay then,” he said as he clapped his hands once. “I better get going, my group leader is kind of strict so, I’ll see you at lunch?”

You nodded at him. “Bye, Chani.”

“Bye,” he said. He closed the door behind him and once again you were left alone in the quiet room.

                                                               *

That very same day, as usual, the Treasure boys were practicing for their choreography.

Their practice room was filled with the sound of shoes screeching and the members counting along their steps together.

After running the full choreography of their song three times, the leaders called out to their members to take a break.

“Ahhh I love the cold floor!” Yedam said as he laid down on the cold floor.

Jeongwoo crawled up towards him and laid down closely beside him, his eyes slowly closing.

“Good job, everyone! Everyone’s dance move was very accurate! If we keep it up like this, we’ll have a very sharp formation too, soon,” Hyunsuk praised his members as he held onto his water bottle in his hand.

Jihoon, who was beside him, wiped his own sweat off with a small towel he brought from home. “Yup! You all did very great today. Especially Kim Junkyu,” he said as he smiled.

Junkyu, who was sitting on the floor next to Doyoung, looked at his friend in confusion. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. You seemed really…energetic today,” Jihoon said to him.

“Thank you?” Junkyu responded, still confused.

“Hyung! Can we go get ice cream today?” Yoshi asked as he raised his hand.

Suddenly the whole room started making noise, supporting Yoshi’s idea. Some ice cream after a great practice sounded really good to them at the moment.

“Hush hushh,” Hyunsuk shushed the kids as he waved his hands in the air, signalling them to calm down. When the whole room quieted down, Hyunsuk turned to look at their other leader beside him. “What do you think?”

Jihoon smiled at the rest of them, his usual bright smile, “Hmm, I guess we deserve some ice cream…”

“YAYYYYYY” the maknae line started jumping around the room, high-fiving each other, all excited that their hyungs are going to treat them with some ice cream today.

“Okay, okay but calm down!” Jihoon said. “Is there anything else you all want today? My treat.” He added, making all of their members in the room more excited, including Hyunsuk.

“Burgers!! Hyung, can we have burgers for lunch today??” Junghwan’s voice shouted amongst his other hyungs who were talking in the room.

“Okay okay! Okay, listen up everyone!” Jihoon said again, ordering them to calm down. Even though his tone was firm, his face still showed his warm smile since he was happy to see his kids all excited.

“Okay,” he said once the room quieted down again. “So today, I’ll get us some ice cream and burgers,”

“YAYYYYYY” the boys cheered happily.

“BUT—” Jihoon said, implying to them that he still has more to say.

“Shh, shh! Let Jihoon finish talking y’all,” Hyunsuk said, shushing them this time.

“Thanks, hyung,”

Hyunsuk smiled at him.

“As I was saying, I’ll buy all those stuffs but—let’s play a game to decide who gets to help receive the food at the building’s front lobby downstairs,” he grinned.

“Aw man! I knew Jihoon-hyung wouldn’t be this generous without another scheme in his head,” Jaehyuk groaned.

                                                                   *

 YG Building (Front Lobby)

“How long until the deliveryman arrives?” Junkyu asked Yedam who was holding onto Jihoon’s phone in his hand.

“Hyung, it’s only been 2 minutes since you last asked this. And just like 2 minutes before, the deliveryman is still a block away,” Yedam reminded his hyung.

Asahi, who had lost in the game earlier as well, kept quiet beside the two boys.

Junkyu lets out a whine. “I don’t get why we are the ones who lost in that game. That game’s stupid,”

Yedam chuckled at him, “Hyung, the three of us were unlucky because we drew out Jihoon-hyung’s name for the arm-wrestle match. It would have been easier if we got Haruto or Asahi-hyung,”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Asahi said, breaking the silence he had been holding onto since they lost the game earlier.

Yedam wrapped an arm around his hyung, “Exactly! You’re here because we all lost against Jihoon-hyung,”

This earned a small chuckle from Asahi, his dimple showing.

Suddenly, Jihoon’s phone vibrated, a call coming in.

“Hyung, hyung! Someone’s calling!” Yedam panicked as he held out the phone towards Asahi and Junkyu.

Both Junkyu and Asahi exchanged looks with each other.

“You answer it, Asahi!” Junkyu said as he pushed the phone into Asahi’s hands.

“Are you kidding me? I’m Japanese!” Asahi said as he pushed the phone back into Junkyu’s hands.

“Eyy don’t give me that reason! I’ve heard you talk to Jaehyuk-hyung on the phone that time when he kept calling you every day when you were in Japan. Your Korean was fine,”

“Okay but still, you answer the phone,” Asahi pointed at the vibrating phone in Junkyu’s hands.

“Noooo I’m an introvert! You should know I don’t like answering strangers’ phonecalls,” Junkyu reasoned.

“I’m an introvert too! I’m only 3% extrovert!” Asahi argued back.

At this point, Yedam was too worried that they might miss out on an important call, so while his hyungs were busy arguing about who was the most introverted amongst them both, Yedam hurriedly snatched the phone from Junkyu’s hands and answered it.

 Phonecall Conversation:

Yedam: Hello?

Caller: Hello? Mr Park Jihoon? Sorry for bothering you, but we are from S&S Closets.

Yedam: Uhh, I uh--

Caller: I’m just calling to confirm with you if you have received your parcel yesterday.

Yedam: Oh, that. Parcel??

Caller: Yes, our delivery staff said that a person named Park Jeongwoo helped sign the package off for you yesterday.

Yedam: Ah, Jeongwoo! Ah yes, yes, that’s our friend. In that case, yes, the package was delivered safely to my side.

Caller: Alright then. Don’t forget to rate our product and service at our website! Thank you and have a nice day!

-Call ends-

 Yedam stared at the phone confusedly after the call ended.

Junkyu and Asahi on the other hand, were no longer arguing since Yedam had chosen to answer the call for them.

“Who was it?” Junkyu asked.

Yedam shrugged, “I’m not really sure either, some company called S&S Closets? I guess Jihoon-hyung ordered something from them?”

“Oh? Jihoon-hyung ordered a closet?? That’s random,” Junkyu said, his face showing a thinking expression with his lips slightly pouting.

“Yeah, I guess that is kind of random,” Yedam said.

“That’s not it. S&S Closets is a Japanese clothing line company. My mum usually buys my sister some outfits from that site too,” Asahi explained.

“Ahh, I see.”

“Oh? Then what could Jihoon-hyung have bought from there??” Yedam questioned.

“I don’t know. I just know that it sells woman’s clothings,”

The three of them fell silent.

“Hey…do you guys think…Jihoon-hyung…” Yedam said slowly,

“What? What is it?” Junkyu prodded him, curious to know what Yedam might be guessing now.

“Do you guys think Jihoon-hyung has bought his Halloween costume for this year?? He bought Elsa last year, didn’t he??”

Asahi shook his head in disbelief, since he knows that the specific clothing line his mum used to buy doesn’t sell costumes.

“I don’t think so. That company doesn’t make costumes,”

Junkyu gasped out loud. “Then, what did he buy from there??”

“I guess we’ll just have to ask him later. For now, let’s get our foods first,” Yedam said as he showed the indicator on Jihoon’s phone. “The deliveryman is close by now.”

                                                                 *

 Lunchtime arrived and so you decided to just leave your meeting room, with a disappointed look on your face considering again today, none of the staff had visited your session. At this point you had already given up on the hopes that these people might even come see you after today.

Grabbing your bag, you exited the meeting room, making sure you closed the door behind you.

You walked up towards the elevators, wanting to head towards the cafeteria and probably just meeting Chani at your usual lunch spot.

As the elevator reached your floor, you entered it and pressed the button leading to the cafeteria floor.

It wasn’t long until you heard the elevator’s ding!

You were about to step out of the elevator when you heard a voice saying “Hold the elevator! Our hands are full!”

Feeling panicked because you were the only person in the specific elevator, you hurriedly backed yourself into the elevator and pressed the “open doors” button.

Three guys entered the space beside you, all gasping from the running they did just to simply catch up with the elevator.

“Oh? You guys!” You said, as you noticed that the three boys were none other than your own friends.

Yedam raised his head from his panting and turned to see who it was that had greeted them.

“Y/n!” Yedam exclaimed happily.

This made Asahi and Junkyu immediately turning to look at you as well.

You smiled at them and pointed at the paper bags in their hands, “Delivery?”

“Yup, Jihoon-hyung is treating us today,” Yedam answered.

“Nice.” You said as you nod.

“Aren’t you gonna close the doors?” Yedam asked, noticing that your finger never left the “open doors” button.

“Oh! Oh gosh, I was heading out just now,” you said as you pulled away your finger from the button.

The door started closing and by the time you realised the elevator was already moving, you panicked on your own, “Wait, oh my god I was supposed to exit the elevators BEFORE the door closes ahh!”

Yedam, Junkyu and Asahi smiled apologetically as they watched you make your careless mistake right in front of them.

You were too embarrassed to face them now, knowing that you had acted like a fool in front of them so you just kept quiet while you stared down at your feet as the elevator brings the four of you to the 3rd floor.

When you all reached the 3rd floor, you pressed on the “open doors” button for them as you watched them all exit the elevator.

You noticed that Asahi was struggling with his heavy-looking paper bag, so you asked him, “Hey, Asahi. Do you need help with that? You look like you’re having a hard time with that,”

Asahi, who was already right outside the elevator doors, turned to look at you. And then he stared down at the paper bag in his hands. He glanced over towards Junkyu and Yedam who were a few steps in front of him, both waiting for him.

“Uh, sure. I could use some help,” Asahi said.

With that, you stepped out of the elevator, letting the doors close behind you.

“Here, let me help you carry that,”

Asahi moved away from you, making you stare at him in confusion.

“Asahi?? You said you needed help, I’m here to help,” you said to him.

Asahi ignored you and started jogging towards his two friends in front. The moment he reached them, the both of them too, gave him a confused look.

“Oh my god, why did you run off??” you said as you reached their spot as well, slightly huffing since you chased after him in your work heels.

“Hyung, is everything okay?” Yedam asked him, slightly worried.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Asahi turned to you, as if he hadn’t made you chase after him earlier, and said “Oh right, y/n, you wanted to help, right? Could you help Junkyu-hyung? His bag was the heaviest.”

“Ah? Yeah sure, I mean, you could’ve just said so instead of making me chase after you, you know—”

You hadn’t finish your sentence when you noticed that Asahi wasn’t listening to you at all. Instead, he was already dragging Yedam with him to head towards their practice room, leaving you and Junkyu behind them.

Junkyu and you exchanged glances with each other.

“I…I wasn’t done talking,” you said.

“That’s Asahi. No surprises there. I can never figure out what’s in his mind, honestly,” Junkyu responded.

“Yeah I guess…”

You held out your hands to Junkyu, to which he raised his eyebrows at since he wasn’t sure what you were doing.

“Let me help.” You said, your hands still waiting for him to give you one of the paper bags he was holding.

“Oh. H-here,” he said as he pushed one bag into your hands.

The both of you walked side by side, at a relaxed pace since you both figured out that it was impossible to catch up after Asahi and Yedam by now.

“I honestly thought Asahi wasn’t the type to be into jogging or running. But hey, he was quite fast just now don’t you think?” You said, still weirded out as to why Asahi had dragged Yedam with him that quickly.

“Trust me, I’ve never seen him walk that fast either,” Junkyu snickered.

This made you giggle slightly. “I guess he’s just excited to eat lunch. It’s nice of Jihoon to treat you all good foods like this,” you praised.

Junkyu nodded at this. “Yup, he’s full of surprises like that. He’s a really great leader, both him and Hyunsuk,”

“That’s sweet of you to say that,”

Junkyu blushed slightly from your compliment. He glanced over at you whom was looking straight ahead, just simply walking casually beside him.

From your side profile, he noticed your eyelashes were quite long. Your cheeks had a tint of blush to them, probably from your makeup, and he noticed the smooth texture of your hair falling against your shoulder.

“…pretty…” he mumbled softly.

You turned to look at him, “Hm? You said something?”

“Ah?!” Junkyu froze in his spot. “I- I uh, I was wondering uh, if you were going to have lunch too,”

“I will, don’t worry,” you smiled.

Junkyu blushed again, this time he could really feel his cheeks heat up.

He started walking faster, wanting to reach the practice room quicker.

You noticed his steps quickening so you tried to hurry after him, your heels clacking against the floor.

“Okay Junkyu, I know you’re in a rush but could you maybe slow down a bit? I can’t walk that fast in heels,”

This made him slow down. He looked at the black pumps you were wearing and felt bad for making you chase after him.

This time, the two of you were walking side by side again.

“This better?” he asked.

“Yup, way better. Thanks,” you smiled again at him.

Junkyu felt his grip on the paper bag in his hand tightened. He hoped to reach their practice room fast, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing you smile at him like that all over again.

                                                                   *

 Treasure’s Practice Room

Asahi opened the doors of the practice room, his hands shaking from carrying the paper bag in his hands.

Jihoon walked up towards him and noticed that Yedam was the only one who entered after him.

“Asahi? Yedam? Where’s Junkyu?”

Asahi lets out a big sigh and hands over the paper bag from his hands towards his leader.

Jihoon, a little confused, accepted the paper bag, and was surprised by the sudden cold contact that touched his skin. “Ah! You’ve been carrying all these ice creams on your own??” Jihoon’s voice raised a pitch due to the sudden cold contact he had.

Asahi pushed his hair back with his hand, “It’s okay, I did what I had to do,” he said as he passed by Jihoon, making his way towards the centre of the room where the other members are.

Jihoon watched as his friend walks over to the other side before he turns to face Yedam who was also catching his breath after getting dragged by Asahi to hurry back towards their practice room.

“Hold on hyung, let me catch my breath,” Yedam said in between pants. After feeling better, he pulled out Jihoon’s phone and hands it over to him.

“Here’s your phone by the way,”

“Thanks,”

“Oh, by the way, you had a call so I answered,”

“Hm? Who was it?”

“Someone wanted to confirm about your package from S&S Closets something?” Yedam shrugged as he said this.

“Ahh, that. Okay thanks,” Jihoon answered simply.

“Yup. Okay I’m just gonna head in and put this bag in the middle there,” Yedam said as he leaves Jihoon as well.

Jihoon nodded at him and proceeds to wait at the door of their practice room since he wondered where his best friend was, and as soon as his head peeked out of the practice room, he saw from a distance, was Junkyu and you walking towards where he was.

He noticed the both of you making small talk with each other. He smiled as he waited for the both of you to reach a close enough distance with him before he opens his mouth to say, “Ahh, there they are. I’ve been wondering where Junkyu was. Turns out he was occupied with you, y/n,”

You smiled at him and nodded, “Hey there, Jihoon. I bumped into your boys as I was leaving for lunch. Don’t worry, you can have your boy back,”

Junkyu pursed his lips and fell quiet. It seemed like as if he couldn’t talk naturally now that Jihoon was here in front of him. Now this is weird, he thought. He was totally fine when it was just you and him talking before.

“Aw, why give him back to me? You could stay and have lunch with us too, right Junkyu?” Jihoon said, shooting his friend a teasing glance.

Junkyu blinked a couple times as he thought of what to answer.

Not noticing that Junkyu was really thinking of what to say to you, you immediately answered Jihoon, “Nah, it’s okay. I better get going. Chani’s probably waiting for me at the balcony. Man, he’s gonna give me an earful if I keep him waiting for too long,” you laughed as you said this.

Junkyu rolled his eyes when he heard you mentioning Chani’s name. And then suddenly, he felt annoyed.

“Aww that’s too bad. I guess we’ll see you next time then?” Jihoon said to you.

You nodded at him. You turned to Junkyu and handed the paper bag in your hands to him, to which he hastily grabs from you.

You were taken aback by his behaviour but you just thought maybe he didn’t mean to react that way so you decided to brush it off.

“Well, I’ll be going now. Bye Jihoon, bye Junkyu,” you said.

“Bye y/n~” Jihoon said in a sing-song tune, giving you his eye-smile.

Junkyu said goodbye to you but he avoided looking at you as you went off, making you feel slightly puzzled because you were sure the both of you were talking fine earlier but then Junkyu had suddenly switched to his cold behaviour.

You shrugged to yourself as you made your way back towards the elevator at the end of the floor, hoping that Chani wouldn’t nag at you for making him wait.

                                                                *

 Junkyu didn’t even wait for you to completely leave both his and Jihoon’s sight. He immediately enters the practice room, carrying the paper bags in his hands but then Jihoon stopped him.

“Here, let me help you carry that,” Jihoon said as he grabbed one of the bags from Junkyu, making himself carry two paper bags in his hands now.

“Thanks,” Junkyu mumbled.

“Hmm. You seem moody. That’s weird, I thought you said you felt good being around y/n,”

“It’s nothing,” Junkyu said, not looking at his best friend. “And hey, what’s with you ordering stuff from that women’s clothing line?” he asked, suddenly reminded of the call Yedam answered earlier.

Jihoon’s eyes widened slightly. “How did you know it was a women’s clothing line?”

“Asahi said it’s the one that his mother usually buys from for his sister,”

Jihoon lets out a small laugh, “It’s nothing, really. I was just interested in the limited-edition box, that’s all.”

“For a box??”

“Yup. Wait a minute—” Jihoon said, his expression changing to panic when he realised that he’d been hugging the paper bag containing the ice cream close to himself all this while. “Oh my god I forgot Asahi handed me the bag with the ice cream!”

Junkyu noticed the paper bag in Jihoon’s hands. “Yah! Park Jihoon, you better get that laid out on the cold floor now!”

The both of them scrambled towards their members in the middle of the practice room.

                                                                 *

 Lunchtime ended and luckily for you, Chani was in a good mood so even when you ended up meeting him later than usual after helping out your Treasure friends carry their food to their practice room, Chani didn’t nag at you for your tardiness at all.

Right now, you and Chani were heading towards the elevators, wanting to go back to your own respective floors and to continue your sessions with your assigned groups. Well, to be precise, only Chani had a group to return to. You? Yeah well, you just had to head back to your empty meeting room that was also strangely the only one located on the 4th floor of the building.

“You know what bothers me the most?” You said, as the both of you walked leisurely towards the elevators.

“What?”

“I honestly, have come to accept the fact that maybe no one signed up to be in my group. I mean, still, it hurts—but what bothers me most is that why is my meeting room the only one on that deserted floor?? Everyone else’s sessions were held on the 5th and 6th floor!”

Chani kept quiet for a while, processing what you said. There was some truth in your words. He was puzzled as well as to how and why did you end up not having any staff to tutor. Not to mention, your meeting room was the only one that was the smallest and to be honest it was never ever used before.

“But the tutor sessions only lasts for a week, and it’s only Tuesday so…I guess I’ll get by,” you chuckled to yourself. “Besides, I can complete my modules on my own…”

Chani gave you a quick light slap on your arm after hearing your pitiful rant.

“Ow! Hey, chill it with the abusive behaviour, Chani,” you reacted exaggeratively.

Chani rolled his eyes at you and flashed you a smile.

“Don’t say things like that. You’re making me worry and feel sad for you. Worrying is one thing, but I didn’t sign up for any sadness when I decided to be friends with you,” he joked.

The both of you entered the elevators in front of you since coincidentally the doors opened the moment you both arrived at the waiting space.

Chani pressed on both the 4th and 5th floor’s buttons for the both of you.

You folded your arms against your chest and sighed, a small sigh.

Chani turned to you and smiled at you.

“What?” You asked, noticing that he was smiling for no reason.

“Nothing. I just…I have a feeling your troubles will be over soon.”

“Yeah, right. Thanks for the optimism Chani, but honestly, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Sure,” he answered simply.

The door opened up on the 4th floor and you stepped out of the elevator.

“See you tomorrow, y/n!” Chani said cheerfully to you.

You turned around to wave at him before the door closes.

And as soon as the door closes, Chani’s finger instantly tapped on the 6th floor’s button. The door opened up on the 5th floor, which was where his assigned meeting room was, but Chani ignored it and lets the elevator doors close down. After all, he was planning to get off on the 6th floor this time.

                                                                   *

YGE Building (Bomin’s Office)

Bomin had just returned from his lunch with his favourite person, Soomin from the PEWA Group when he found Chani standing in his office, a dissatisfied look on his face.

“What are you doing here??” He asked, startled to see the young man being there without any appointments being made.

Chani scoffed at his question. “Don’t give me that. I wasn’t the one coming in late after lunch all ‘cause I was busy being smittened by my high school sweetheart,” he said sarcastically.

Bomin felt his ears burn up. Just how did Chani knew about his relationship with Soomin? Ah, y/n must have told him. After all, both you and Chani are close.

Bomin feigned an uninterested look. He walks up towards his desk and proceeds to sit in his swivel chair behind the desk.

“What do you want, Chani?”

“Why doesn’t y/n have any staff to tutor?”

Bomin lets out a chuckle. “Seriously? Did she send you to march up here and get mad at me??”

Chani walked up closer to Bomin, leaning towards the desk that was separating the both of them.

“Y/n knows nothing so leave her out of all of this, you bastard,” he said in bitter tone.

Bomin leaned into his chair, intertwining his fingers together. “Hmm, interesting. It seems like you’re standing up for your friend, unlike last time,”

Chani glared at Bomin, furious that he has the nerve to bring up what happened last year.

“I’m being serious here,” Chani said, his fist clenching.

“Sure. I know you’re being serious. I’m serious too. No one signed up to be in y/n’s group. You can check the namelist I pasted on the notice board outside our main meeting room downstairs.”

“You’re full of crap!” Chani yelled. “What, you expect me to believe that stupid sheet of paper?? I was up here earlier than you were. Did it not cross your mind that I might have snooped in on the work laptop on your desk?” he scoffed.

Bomin sat up straight after hearing this. “You…what?!”

“That’s right. Y/n had 4 people signing up for her session. And yet, you edited their names into other groups just so it would seem like no one signed up to be in her group. What nerve you have.”

“She wasn’t even qualified enough to tutor any staff! I’m just doing it for the sake of our staff!” Bomin said, his voice raising now.

“Don’t give me that! What do you know about qualification?? I listened to her explaining about the modules couple times before this! And guess what? She was good! Freaking good! And she was looking forward to doing these tutor sessions but you had to take it away from her, didn’t you?! All ‘cause I was close to her, right?!”

“Not everything is about you, Chani,” Bomin muttered angrily.

“You’re right, it’s not. Because everything is about YOU. Too bad for you, I’m not taking your crap anymore. You can just do whatever you want. I won’t let you hurt y/n in any way.”

“Hah! You can’t say that. You literally work under me.”

“I won’t stand still. Since you’re allowed to do what you want, from here on, I’ll do what I want.” Chani responded.

“What nonsense are you saying now, Chani?” Bomin said, calmer now, although he was gritting his teeth when he said this.

“You don’t need to know the details, sir. I’m going back to my session now. I need to have a talk with my group leader too, anyways. See ya,” Chani smirked as he said this.

Bomin watched as the younger staff exited his office. Feeling angered by what just happened, Bomin slammed his fist hard onto the table. He hated that boy’s guts like crazy.

 To be continued…

[ask-theoverseer-max]

Max's phone rings, checking the ID, it's the Dweets. When he answers the phone he can hear Dwight on the other end, which one it was... hard to tell, they all sound the same over the phone. "Hey Max!" they greet in a customer service-like tone, ah the overly polite 'phonecall voice' "It's Dwight... The Dwights, the three of us... ah! Anyways we were wondering if we could drop by for a bit? We've got a wardrobe for now so we can give you back your outfit! Though.. uhm... well... I hope your powers can fix it or something... We tried to patch it but it seems the entity doesn't fix your outfit after trials like it does with ours..."

@ask-the-dweets

*Maxwell eye's were twitching when he saw the state of his jacket. Torn, ripped, dirtied and somehow stretched. Max was hiding his expressions behind his Helmet but it was clear by his aura that he was pissed. Max takes a deep breath and shakes his head.*

"Nah Nah it--its.. well not alright but at least I have more in my closet. I just hate seeing it in such a state... reminds me of.. well the moments just before I got taken here.. Anyway lemme get another from the closet."

*Max heads into his back room while the three Dwight's hang around his living room area. They hear a crash in the back and yell of frustration before Max opens the door.*

"Alright.. Goods news and Bad news, The bad news is all my jackets are gone for some reason, dunno how or why but they are. Good news is I can just make another jacket."

*Max open his hands and something similar to the bloodweb appears in his hands and he fiddles around with it. When he clicks it, a bizarre sound comes from the web. Like the sound of someone getting an answer wrong on a gameshow. Max clicks it again and the web makes the same sound.*

"Ok Good news and Bad news, bad news is I cannot summon my jacket... Good news is I'll just have the Entity make me a new one... You three might wanna look away for a second."

*When the three are looking away Max makes a mental pathway to talk with the Entity but even with their eyes closed, the room is getting very bright and unintelligible noises can be heard from Max's area. The Dwights can't hear what Max is listening to but he appears to be talking with someone.*

"Come on just this one time... What do you mean its for the best-.. But it's my style... I don't think you'd count.. Yes he's doing fine as well, he's walking around Anna's realm.. You can't just-.. But where am I-.. Wait- Fuck!"

*The light went away as Max said "Wait" and he huffs a little before telling the Dwights they can open their eyes.*

"Alright good news and bad-.. I've lost my ability to make my old outfit.. but.. I can get a new one."

[profangirllu]

How Do You Sleep?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You know Peter is lying to you about something, and when he refuses to tell you, you assume the worst. Based loosely off the song “How Do You Sleep?” by Sam Smith. 

Warnings: angst

A/N: this was written in the span of half an hour so please forgive me for any errors I didn’t proofread. There will be a part two to this!!

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

I'm done hatin' myself for feelin'

I'm done cryin' myself awake

I've gotta leave and start the healin'

But when you move like that, I just want to stay…

Another tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at your phone. 

Eleven messages. That’s how many you had sent to Peter just within the last few minutes. That didn’t even scratch the surface of the numerous panicked texts and worried phonecalls you had been sending him over the past few weeks. You didn’t know why you even tried, because you always got the same response. 

“Read.”

You threw your phone onto the clothes piled up in the corner of your room, collapsing onto your bed with a soft thud. Fresh tears leaked from your eyes as your mind began racing with all of the possibilities as to why he could be ignoring you. None of them were good.

What if he’s seeing someone else? 

What if I’m too clingy?

What if he’s waiting to break up with me?

What if I’m not enough?

The pain in your chest grew with every thought that pushed its way forward through your mind, negativity wrapping your mind in a thick dark smoke. And you absolutely hated it. 

You hated feeling this vulnerable and hurt. You hated being ignored by the boy who had seemed to love you so much a few weeks ago. You hated feeling anything for him at all. 

When you felt a salty tear hit your lips, a gear switched in your mind. 

No, you thought. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t allow him to make me feel this way. 

You crawled off your bed and shuffled to your closet, pulling out a storage box full of old stuffed animals and dumping them on the floor before searching through your hangers. Your eyes landed on one of Peter’s hoodies and you practically ripped it off the hanger and shoved it into the box, repeating the action with anything and everything that reminded you of him. T-shirts and pictures, chemistry notes from the year before and toys he had won for you at Coney Island. Everything went into the box. 

He wouldn’t make you feel like this anymore. You wouldn’t let him.

————

What have I become?

Lookin' through your phone now, oh, now

Love to you is just a game

Look what I've done

Dialing up the numbers on you

I don't want my heart to break

Lunch seemed pretty normal until Peter got there. You, Ned, and MJ had been talking about how much of a jerk your English teacher was for assigning another paper on top of the project that was due. Ned made some joke about him before you all laughed. 

“What’s so funny?” Peter asked, smiling. He sat down next to MJ, but not in the spot in front of you. No, instead he sat on her other side so he could be in front of Ned. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting, especially since you two were still dating, but you shrugged it off as best you could. MJ gave you a look and you returned one that made it clear you didn’t know what was up with him. 

A noticeable tension had settled on the group when Peter’s eyes widened. 

“Crap, I forgot I had to take the Physics test I missed on Monday.” He rushed to put his things in his bag. “I'll see you guys later,” was all he got out before he hurried away, unaware that he had left his phone next to his lunch tray. 

You stared at it. All of the answers to the burning questions you had were probably hidden in there somewhere. You shook your head. Going through his phone would be a complete violation of the trust that you had built your relationship on.

But then again, what trust was left?

“Hey Ned,” you said softly. He looked at you, eyes innocent and happy. You swallowed. “Could you, um… could you go through Peter’s messages for me? He hasn’t been answering mine and I just wanna make sure they’re going through.”

Ned’s happy demeanor changed instantaneously. He stiffened, wringing his hands out and shaking his head lightly. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/N). I mean, Peter and I… we’re-we’re best friends and I don’t feel comf-”

Before he could finish, MJ groaned and grabbed Peter’s phone, unlocking it and going to the texts. 

“You’re texts are here, so they’re definitely going through,” she said. Her face scrunched in confusion. “Hey, you might want to take a look at this.”

She slid you the phone. On the screen were messages between Peter and an unknown number, the latest one from last night. 

Unknown: Can you be there in 10?

Me: I can be there in 5 if you need me to be.

Unknown: Perfect.

Your heart sunk and MJ took the phone back, shutting it off before anything else could happen. “I’m sorry…”

Ned had seen it too, and the sweat on his brow had grown more noticeable. “Hey, it’s probably not what you think. He-he probably just had to go somewhere for something with someone none of us know and-” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and stood from the table, Ned’s ramblings only making everything worse. You sucked in a breath before heading for the door.  The messages weren’t much evidence to go on, but your feelings were enough to confirm that you needed to protect yourself. 

And you would have to do something really hard in order to do so. 

------

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me?

All that shame and all that danger

I'm hopin' that my love will keep you up tonight

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me?

All that fear and all that pressure

I'm hopin' that my love will keep you up tonight

The hallway was still empty when Peter sauntered out of the Physics lab, a content look on his face, completely opposite to the face you wore. Peter saw you and made his way over, opening his arms for a hug, the standard greeting you two had. You put your hand up and stopped him, a coldness taking over you. 

Peters brows furrowed, dark eyes concerned as he looked at you. You gathered enough courage to look him in the eyes. 

“When were you going to tell me?” you asked, your voice quiet. 

Peter became even more confused, though a small fear blossomed in his chest that you knew his secret and were angry at him for not telling you. “Tell you what?”

You scoffed. “Oh come on, don’t act dumb.”

“I’m not acting right now. What are you talking about?” His voice was full of puzzlement.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re really going to make me say it?” Your heart broke even more when he nodded. “Fine. When were you going to tell me you’re cheating on me?” The newfound volume in your voice wasn’t the only thing that took Peter by surprise.

“(Y/N) what are you talking about? I would never-”

“Are you serious right now?” Anger flared in your body. “Maybe I’m mistaken, but you haven’t talked to me in weeks and then I see that some unknown number is asking you to be somewhere?”

“Wait, did you go through my phone?” he asked, suddenly defensive. A small amount of anger started in his chest too at the thought of you breaking his chest, but it dissipated when he looked at you again. 

“What choice did I have, Peter?” Your voice was still elevated, but it was beginning to crack. “You’ve barely talked to me in weeks, you haven’t answered my texts or calls at all and all I get that a sign you’re alive is a read receipt. Hell, how do you sleep knowing that you haven’t answered the girl you love when all I do is worry because of how much I love you?” Tears were falling down your face again as you continued to express your feelings and Peter tried to reach out and wipe them away. He winced when you smacked his hand away. 

“(Y/N), please just let me explain-”

“No, Peter,” you said firmly. “I’m done letting you make me feel this way. I’m done feeling insecure in a relationship that used to make me feel safe. I’m done with us.”

With those final words, you turned and walked away, leaving Peter to pick up the pieces as his world came crashing down. 

What did he do?

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Boss

Prompt.. Lexa and Clarke sleep together one night, the next morning Clarke comes in to start her new job and turns out Lexa will be her boss (basically how Meredith and Derek first meet in grey's anatomy) yeah cool...love your writing

The tiny townhouse on the corner of Grant and Lincoln was nearly unpacked, but still occupied the unfinished zone of moving in. The furniture was there, with boxes opened and in various states of emptied. Sheets were tossed on the bed, but it wasn’t made. Clothes were rooted through and half hung in the closet at the top of the stairs. The only things in the fridge were little Chinese take out boxes and a handful of sauce packets. 

But that didn’t mean a thing to the bodies on the couch. 

Well tired and sated, the two tangled torsos and limbs hung and clung to each other on the small area, not having much to discuss the night before, but rather making the other body too tired to hear and speak and think, and thus fell asleep in a knot. It wasn’t many hours of sleep between the bar and the sex and the moment one of the bodies shifted and the otehr fell to the floor with a thud. 

“Ow.” 

“What was--”

“Just my back. And hip. And… head,” the body on the floor wheezed slightly, wincing against the pain. 

“Oh shit, it’s daylight,” Clarke squinted toward the windows witn no curtains or blinds and realized how late it was. “Oh fuck!”

“Seems to be.” 

The body on the couch sat up and hopped over the back before snatching the blanket and carefully wrapping it around her naked body. 

“I have to go. I have work...um…”

“Lexa,” she sat up from the floor, propping herself up on her elbows and looking up over the cushions. 

Completely naked, the girl on the floor smiled and pushed away a mess of hair while Clarke looked at her and blushed and tried not to look, desperately. She wanted to look, but that would distract her from the process of getting ready, and Clarke had to get to work. It was her first day, after all, beautiful naked sex god be damned. 

“Right. Lexa. Nice to meet you, but I have to--”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded, tugging a pillow in front of herself to shield as much nakedness as possible. “Do you live here?” 

“Just moved.” 

“Cool. From where.” 

“I really have to-- It was fun and all--”

A pair of blank panties were held up from the floor by hands attached to a mischievous hand oddly victorious grin. Clarke remembered the same smile somewhere between the whiskey and tequila, the smile nd the eyes and the intent way the stranger in the bar listened to her words. More importantly, she remembered the fragments of the sex and the things that mouth could do and that was the reason for the victory, and it was deserved. 

“But you have to go to work,” Lexa repeated. 

With a graceless motion, Clarke reached over the couch and snatched the offending lingerie before agreeing full-heartedly. 

“It was nice to meet you, Lexa,” Clarke promised. “But when I come back downstairs, you’ll be gone, and I’ll be on my way to work.” 

“Right. Work. I should, too. It was nice, to uh, do this. Maybe we can again--”

The offer was barely acknowledged as Clarke hopped up the stairs and toward the shower, leaving Lexa smiling somewhat, amused at the display before she looked down at herself and chuckled at what the past five minutes of her life looked like. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was incredibly stupid. It was monumentally stupid. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done, or at least very close to the top of the long list. But after three weeks of refusing to unpack the house and dealing with the question of employment, Clarke couldn’t handle it any longer, and joined the land of the living again. Perhaps a bit too hard, which was, above all else, stupid. Incredibly stupid. 

Clarke didn’t have too much time to think about anything else as she sprinted into the tall building that had its own distinct imprint on the city. Hair a mess and shirt sloppily in the process of being tucked in, she flashed her badge and rushed toward the elevators as she repeated how stupid it’d been to get absolutely drunk and hook up with a stranger on the couch, and then not setting an alarm, for her first day of her dream job. 

Again and with emphasis, Clarke was an incredibly stupid and gay individual. 

“Ms. Griffin,” the receptionist greeted her with a smile. “I’ve been instructed to ask that you wait right here until Ms. Moore is finished with her phonecall.” 

“Right, of course,” Clarke nodded as she attempted to underplay how extravagantly winded she was. 

Grateful for the moment to process, Clarke took a seat in the reception and processed what the past hour of her life looked like. She somehow woke up and kicked out a very naked woman from her house, that she could almost remember the name of somewhat. And she’d run across town and made it to work. On time, or at least on time enough for her boss. 

Only when she’d caught her breath did Clarke realize that she never got Le-- La-- Lara? Lena? Larry? Fuck. She never got the stranger’s number. 

“Hey, Clarke, thanks for your patience.” 

The woman who interviewed her twice finally walked out from behind the hallowed doors of Woods Publishing, and Clarke gave up trying to remember and prayed she did not smell like as much tequila as she’d inhaled the night before. 

“I’m so happy to be here, Ms. Moore,” she grinned and shook the outstretched hand. 

“Luna is fine. We’re the creatives,” she winked and led Clarke toward the door. “We get a little more freedom than the stuffed shirts in editing and sales.” 

As they moved down the hall, there was a minute smell of weed, and Clarke realized that this job was going to be better than she’d ever imagined. 

“I thought for your first day, I’d kind of get you set up, take you to our morning huddle and pitch meetings, and then after lunch make you meet everyone in a super awkward and invasive department bash.” 

“Bash?” 

“Yeah, well, people stop coming when I call them meetings and ice-breakers. I’ve decided to rename things different, more fun words to trick them into the same meetings.” 

“How’s it going so far?” 

“Amazingly well. Just wait until you see the turn out for your meet-and-greet… I mean bash.” 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Her boss was calm and cool, funny and approachable, and most importantly, she was clearly very into her job, which was a godsend. Hiring was often abou personality and camaraderie, as in how well a new personality would fit into a team, and Clarke already felt at home. 

The day went by easily enough, as all first days are known to do. She met her team and got her desk, got to feel out a little of how the day flowed with the promise of her assignments arrival soon enough. Luna passed her off around lunch to one of the teammates, and Clarke fell into enjoying her new coworkers with very light company gossip over not terrible sandwiches in the cafeteria. She learned all about the office romances and the merger, the new corporate structure and how great it was compared to other companies. She learned about the owner’s daughter who started a few months ago and was actually nice to work for, and more importantly, Clarke learned that there was a very lax policy when it came to punctuality. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

By the end of the day, Clarke felt like she would like it there, and was eager to help and work on drawing some of the projects. She was ready to work with the team and she was ready to finally be creative and produce something. 

“Thank you all again, for welcoming Clarke to our team,” Luna grinned and held up her glass as the rest of the team did the same. 

She was right, of course, that calling it a bash did something to make them all want to stay a few minutes later and mingle. 

“Enjoy the gift baskets sent from the studio for our last project, but within reason. And we’ll jump right in tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Clarke smiled and accepted a drink. 

“I’ll see you bright and early. We’ll get you started on part of our new programming and onto the new project.” 

“I can’t wait.”

Clarke found herself pulled into a conversation over artwork for the storyboard on the wall in the main rom, and even though it was technically about work, the other artists were more than eager to talk about their plans, even over drinks. 

And then she looked up and nearly spit out her drink before turning around very quickly so that her back was to the familiar green eyes and the person she’d kicked onto the floor that very morning. 

“Looks like the boss decided to make a stop. I’m going to finally ask her out,” one of the guys decided as he stood a little straighter and awkwardly fixed his hair. 

“There’s no way Lexa Woods gives you the time of day,” Raven scoffed, sipping her drink and sneaking a look at the grinning CEO. “I bet you twenty bucks she doesn’t even speak to you.” 

“She’s really nice.” 

“Oh, I know. But I bet she won’t even notice you.” 

Clarke felt the blood leave her face as she hurried to sneak another look to confirm that it was, in fact, hell freezing over. And sure enough, for some stranger reason, in a city of hundreds of thousands of people, she was in the same room as the stranger she drunkenly hooked up with sixteen hours beforehand. 

And that stranger was her boss’ boss’ boss’ boss. That stranger was Lexa Woods, CFO of Woods Publishing, daughter of the owner, inheritor to the castle. 

“What do you think, Clarke?” Raven turned toward her. Just five minutes ago, Clarke liked Raven, but now, she wanted to disappear and Raven was blocking the exit. “Think Dan here has a chance?” 

“I don’t really know anything about her,” Clarke shrugged and downed the rest of her drink, careful to stay turned around. 

She didn’t know anything about Lexa Woods, except how she tasted and the noises she made and this thing she did with her fingers that--

“She hasn’t been here long, but she’s actually not the worst, as far as suits go. She likes the creative floors. Her dad’s given her a few projects I’ve been on and I think we work pretty well together,” she explained, offering Clarke a refill. 

“Cool, cool, nice.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or you’re a very bad drinker.” 

“I, uh, had a few too many last night.” 

“Hair of the dog then,” Raven grinned and clinked their glasses. “I think I’m going to like having you around, Griffin. At least until you start asking for advanced tech and drive me crazy with your doodles. Oh shit, there he goes.” 

Despite herself, Clarke turned around and watched the illustrator move through the crowd. She looked immediately at Lexa and actually caught her eye. She held the look and she watched Lexa smile at her, though she couldn’t move to return it. Mortification was at the forefront of her brain. That and oddly proud of herself for pulling someone like Lexa Woods, even when she wasn’t on her A game. 

Only when Clarke saw Dan get close, did she look away and break the stupor she found herself stuck in. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t figured out that she’s gay.” 

“What?”

“Dan has the worst gay-dar of all time,” Raven chuckled. “I almost feel bad taking his money. Almost.” 

Sure enough, as he walked up toward his boss’ boss’ boss, full of confidence and vim, Lexa didn’t even notice him, her eyes firmly locked on Clarke’s as she moved through the crowd, finally deciding to approach. It took a few steps before Clarke realized what was happening, and only then did she feel the two and a half drinks she’d had. 

She really didn’t like Raven. 

“I knew it.” 

Clarke didn’t say a word, but rather looked for a quick escape, though none existed and she already knew that. 

“Hey, I thought I’d come welcome you to the team personally. I’m Lexa Woods.” 

With a smile and her hand outstretched, the CEO stood there, as if she hadn’t gone down on her new employee on her couch. 

“Lexa Woods, as in…” 

“Yeah, that’s my name outside, but don’t hold it against me,” she grinned, holding the handshake a little bit longer. “It was Callie, right?” 

“Clarke.” 

“I’m sorry. Clarke.” 

“I didn’t expect to see you on my first day.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa chuckled. “I can imagine. I like hanging out down here more than upstairs. How are you, Ms. Reyes?” 

“Doing alright,” Raven nodded, appraising the scene before her. “Taking Clarke under my wing, as it were.” 

“I’d be careful,” the boss warned. “It was nice to meet you again, Clarke. I’ll see you guys later. I have a meeting I should try to get to ontime. Punctuality is key.”

Clarke burned red and nodded. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa’s fine.”

“Yeah you are.” 

Lexa just smiled and waved again before disappearing. Dan joined the group a second later and passed a twenty to his friend. The boss left the room a moment later without a look back, and Clarke finally breathed. 

“So,” Raven furrowed. “When did you fuck our boss?” 

XXXXXXXXXX

For three weeks, Clarke managed to avoid all thoughts and ideas of Lexa Woods, CEO and absolute beauty. She didn’t avoid her social media, nor did she avoid much of the idle gossip about her at work, but for the most part, Clarke refused to think about her as much as possible, which amounted to about never. 

Sometimes at work, she was able to go for hours, focusing on her projects. Sometimes, Clarke found herself avoiding areas she suspected she might show up, and for three glorious weeks, she was fairly successful. 

Bent over her drawing board, Clarke found herself in a period of Lexa-less thoughts, happy to escape her life and all else, and instead find some sort of outlet for everything she’d been feeling over the past year. 

“These are very good.” 

“Fuck, you scared me,” Clarke breathed, turning around quickly. “I mean. Not fuck.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t followed up,” Lexa smiled softly, hands tied behind her back as she perused Clarke’s wall of sketches for the short they were doing. “I was out of town on business. How is your first month going, Ms. Griffin?” 

“Do you take such an interest in all of your employees, or just the ones you seduce?” 

“I believe you were the one seducing. I was drunk and adorable and you took advantage of me in my drunk and adorable state.” 

Clarke balked and grit her teeth before seeing that Lexa was making fun of her, which did nothing to calm her. 

“Someone who pins the other to their front door, is not being taken advantage of.” 

She smiled again and Clarke found it infuriating. And hot. But also infuriating a little more. 

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Lexa nodded. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to address that… trist.” 

“It was a fluke, and I think we should stay professional. Like we have.”

“I thought I was keeping it fairly professional.” 

“I just mean, you can’t-- we don’t have to talk about that… trist.” 

“Or we could?” she waited to gauge Clarke’s reaction. “Or not. Definitely not. Very professional. Just pretend it never happened.” 

“Exactly. Thank you for stopping by, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa is still fine. We’re going to be working together a bit. Everyone calls me Lexa.” 

“Professional,” Clarke repeated. 

“Casual, even. Professionally casual.” 

“Exactly.” 

XXXXXXXXX

“Professional,” Lexa nodded to herself and tried to catch her breath. The naked body beside her repeated the same thing with a sigh. 

“But we can’t do that again. We were just scratching an itch,” Clarke reasoned as Lexa agreed, humming along with the familiar song. 

If any of that were true, she wouldn’t have been naked in Clarke’s half-made bed, next to a full-naked girl. If she had anything to say about it, they’d be doing it much more and often and professionally. But she was the boss, and she wasn’t allowed to make that call. Clarke had to make it. And Lexa was very grateful that Clarke made it. 

It wasn’t Lexa’s fault that they enjoyed the same bar, or that they happened to notice each other, and it wasn’t her fault that she liked kissing Clarke. 

“I quite like scratching that itch with you.” 

Lexa turned her head and watched Clarke smile before regaining her composure. 

“Don’t sweet talk me, Woods. I’m your employee.” 

“Yeah, but like, only kind of.” 

Clarke turned and gave her a look before Lexa chuckled and rolled toward her, pressing her luck as she pressed against Clarke, kissing her shoulder and her neck. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Clarke turned over as well. “Go into HR and tell them we’re sleeping together?” 

“I could fire you?” 

“Lexa.”

“I could quit?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Or you could agree to go on an actual date with me, and promise not to take your clothes off.” 

“You’re the one that takes them off of me!” 

Despite her wiggling, Clarke let Lexa pull her closer. She ran her fingertips along Lexa’s cheek, squishing her cheeks together so she was making fish lips and smiled at the display, amused at herself and how Lexa let her do that. 

“I zwant tovee hrofeshinal widzth you. Vutd I sink I alike you.” 

“You sound ridiculous.” 

Lexa sighed until Clarke let go of her cheeks, unable to keep the smile there. Instead she held her chin now, between her forefinger and thumb, keeping her steady and there. Fingertips moved up and down her back. 

“I think we can do this without messing up work.” 

“How?” 

“We just don’t work together. I’ll stay off of your projects. Luna has complete control over personnel and who is on what.” 

“If it goes bad?” 

“Then I’ll definitely quit. Sell the company probably. Move to Zurich,” she decided. 

“That plan developed quickly.” 

“It’s always in my back pocket in case a beautiful girl who works for me creates a problem. I will not be caught unprepared again.” 

“Again?” 

“It’s an expression.” 

“Mmm,” Clarke smiled and nodded. 

She didn’t waste a moment. She leaned forward and kissed Lexa because she had to be certain, and she had to find some kind of bravery. She should think about it more, and she should have made a pros and cons list, but something about this moment, this person, Clarke just felt alive, and she’d been chasing it for so long. 

“Did I get the job?”

“You got a date. One date.” 

“I can work with that.”

[behld]

@ofvast,      mike crew.

something is inherently calming about jon’s voice, and mike finds - he feels a little foolish for it, but he carefully sits inside his closet, door shutting behind him, with the phone white-knuckle pressed to the side of his face. exhaustion hits him like a tidal wave, flowing over his body and making his hands shake.

‘ i’m sorry, i … i know it’s too late - too early? for me to call you like this. but my parents are … worried, and i haven’t been able to get the phone until now. ‘ he closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the wall. when he had snuck the phone off the receiver, it had said 2:46 am. mike had just hoped that college hadn’t changed jon’s habit of staying up until the unholy hours of the morning reading.

‘ i had a nightmare. that’s not - that’s not it. ‘ he has a lot of nightmares, after all. he wouldn’t call jon for that. ‘ i woke up, and - you know the garden back wall? there was … there was a door there. it had a lichtenberg figure burnt into it. ‘ he exhales, slow and shaky. ‘ i … i shouldn’t have gone through it. i know i shouldn’t have. but it felt … i felt like i had to. ‘

his knees are pulled close to his chest, and he wishes jon still lived nearby. this was so much easier to manage with someone to be with. someone who believed him. everyone thinks - people think he’s acting out or having a psychotic break. he’s not sure which one is worse.

‘ there was this forest. it went on … forever, all the trees black and thin and reaching up to the sky, which was just - impossible dark rolling clouds. like it was just waiting for a storm to break. ‘ he exhales. ‘ i don’t … i didn’t remember what day it was, when i went through the door. i don’t know how long i was in there, and no one believes me when i say that. they think i just - ran away for a few days or a week or something. i … hoped you would believe me. ‘

jon has dealt with doors that should not be, after all.

it isn’t often that jon regrets leaving bournemouth.      there are not,      altogether,      many reasons for him to regret leaving:      the beach was nice but he’s never liked the feeling of sand on skin,      his grandmother is fine but a phone call once in a while is better than being under the constant weight of her disapproval,      and it isn’t as if he’d had many friends back home.      no,      jon doesn’t regret leaving      —      except for when he does.

he may not miss home,      but he misses mike so much it aches.

it’s wishful thinking that a 3am phonecall could mean anything but disaster,      but it’s been a while since they talked,      and jon hopes,      for a moment,      that everything could be alright      —      but mike’s breaths are shaky into the receiver and jon’s asking what’s wrong instead of a greeting,      you can tell me.      

and mike does.            ‘      of course i believe you,      ’      jon says,      quick as a lightning strike and just as fierce,      because jon will always believe anything mike tells him.      that’s the basis of their friendship,      that complete and total trust in one another,      and he won’t abandon it just because he’s abandoned mike’s side.      a shock of anger runs through jon,      surprises him:      not at mike but at mike’s parents,      for not believing him.      jon knows he can’t blame them,      but it’s easier,      for a moment,      than blaming mysterious doors and endless stormy forests.

‘      i’m sorry.      ’            that they don’t believe you,      that you went through that,      that i wasn’t there.      jon should be there.      instead,      he’s curled in an armchair in his dorm’s common area,      lights dimmed now that he’s the only person on the floor still awake,      a stack of books abandoned beside him.      he’s three hours by train away from mike and the distance feels insurmountable.            ‘      you shouldn’t have to be dealing with that alone.      ’

jon knows that some moments cannot be justly summed-up by an are you alright,      so he doesn’t ask.      if he was still at his grandmother’s house,      it would be easy to sneak out the window and bike over to mike’s house,      sit by his side and stand guard against mystery doors for as long as needed      —      jon knows he’s far from imposing enough to scare off monsters,      but the company helps,      sometimes.      instead:            ‘      do you want me to come back?      i can be on the first train to bournemouth in the morning,      if you need me there.      or i can just stay on the phone with you,      for as long as you need      —      or both,      if you want.      ’

[kleptoandpyro]

Len the Team Mom™

Arrowverse Headcanon #2 (+ the Rogues)

Len's being pulling solo heists for about a week, really burning himself out trying to 'bring home the bacon' and challenge himself. He comes back to the safehouse after a particularly challenging one, he's not really in a good mood, he's worn out and hungry and he's looking forward to just sitting the hell down and taking a load off.

Instead he's greeted, just like the past few days, by a bunch of annoying Rogues the second he opens the door, all arguing with each other; none of them have counted the loot he's been tirelessly bringing in recently, the place is a sty, Mick is just sitting there in the middle of the chaos watching the football and drinking a beer, the weapons closet is running low on supplies and they've eaten the last of the food.

And Len blows the hell up.

Nearly freezes them all on the spot and basically gives them all - Mick too - the dressing down of a lifetime. He tells them that if they're not going to pull their weight they better all get out of Town. He goes to bed seething.

The next day starts the same - he comes in from a solo heist, expecting to find it in ruins again or abandoned - but instead he's greeted by confetti cannons and everyone - sans Mick - shouting 'HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY'; a card is held out to him, the place is clean, there's takeout on the table (the good kind too), the supplies closet is full, there's fresh blueprints and some pre-planned jobs laid out, and all the loot is in neat piles with everything looking shipshape.

He's too speechless to really balk at the 'mother' part, all he knows is they're all telling him they've been arguing for the past few days on how to plan all this, and they actually wanted to do something nice for Len. Mick comes over and grumbles something like "yeah, what they said," and hands Len a bottle of expensive wine (again, the good kind) before trudging off back to the football.

He's eventually led, still speechless, to the bathroom where there's an actual bubblebath drawn and hot, as well as more food on a platter next to the bath, waiting for him. The coldgun and bottle hang limp by his side as Mardon and Hartley clap him on the back and leave him there with another 'Happy Mother's Day!' before walking off.

It's only later on when he's sighing neck deep in the steaming, scented water, holding a glass of cabernet sauvignon and idly picking up a chocolate from the table next to him that everything over the past week suddenly feels worth it. And even when someone eventually knocks on the door with a phonecall, he can't help but drawling out a, "Sorry, Mama's busy," while taking another sip of wine.

HC #1

[beca-mitchell]

show me where my armor ends, chapter 1/7

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7

Summary + a/n: Here is my Bechloe week submission! It will be a seven-chaptered fic, detailing Beca and Chloe’s relationship in this famous!au I’ve constructed for them.

Beca and Chloe are both famous in their own right: Beca is an up and coming musician. Chloe is an adored movie and television actress. They meet one day, by chance, and find themselves very attracted to each other.

Also on AO3

Day 1: Accidental Kiss

Word count: 3,202

Chapter 1: high hopes

Beca Mitchell enjoys a love-hate relationship with the press.

On one hand, she knows it’s necessary for her career. On the other, she never quite knows exactly how to interact with interviewers - or at least, how to be particularly charming.

Despite her general lack of propensity for the charm and interview etiquette, she somehow manages to make it through her day-to-day responsibilities without too many hiccups. She enjoys that her publicist leaves her alone for the most part. She has a few rules here and there, which really, aren’t too bad because Beca kind of just wants to keep her head down anyway.

Something that Beca can say she loves about her career, however, is the sheer amount of attractive people that she meets on a day-to-day basis.

She’s had her fair share of celebrity crushes, but more importantly, they’ve been reciprocated more often than not.

Unfortunately, it would appear, to her publicist, that it is in her own best interest to keep her relationships underwraps, so Beca chooses to just enjoy the fact that she’s single, as far as anybody’s concerned.

Beca can’t believe how many people equally want to keep their dating history and/or sexualities under wraps, but she’s not really complaining. It gets her through the day.

It’s something that isn’t a necessarily a problem for Beca, that is, until she meets Chloe Beale.

Beca has never been quite so attracted to somebody before and the fact is, they just click. They meet at an afterparty for the Golden Globes for the first time and Beca thinks that Chloe might be flirting with her, but under the haze and dim lights, she’s not quite sure.

They share one dance, alcohol and adrenaline making their bodies move a bit more sensually than what Beca might deem appropriate for public appearances, but at that moment, with Chloe, she doesn’t necessarily care. She feels like she can breathe for the first time in years, since entering the hellhole that is Hollywood and the entertainment industry.

When it comes time for Beca to leave, lest she does something she knows she’ll regret like...kiss Chloe or something, she does so with a squeeze to Chloe’s forearm and an apology on her lips.

To her surprise, Chloe pulls her into a hug.

“Nice to meet you,” Chloe murmurs, tightening her grasp. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m happy to meet the face behind the name, finally.”

Beca almost wants to ask what Chloe has heard exactly, maybe something along the lines of whether Chloe has heard only good things, but-

“Oh,” she replies articulately, when she pulls back. “I, uh, same,” she manages to say. She has never noticed quite how blue Chloe’s eyes are, and all she can do is stare for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary. Chloe’s bone structure is crazy. Beca kind of wants to touch Chloe’s face or something. She chalks it up to the alcohol.

Chloe kisses her on the cheek, letting her lips linger - or maybe Beca’s mind is working in slow motion.

She does find Chloe’s number tucked into her clutch, written on a piece of paper with a smudged lipstick kiss at the corner.

Understandably, it all spirals into a fast friendship from then on.

Chloe Why are you so talented?! I’m just casually texting my radio station to request your song again. Just once more should do it.

Beca I swear you single-handedly sent me to #1 lmaooo

Chloe What can I say? I have good taste.

It makes sense in some respects - Chloe is an actress, starring in some popular Netflix series - one that just picked up a couple Emmy nods and Golden Globes over the award season. Even though she’s just part of another prong in the industry, Beca supposes they would have worked professionally together in some aspect sooner or later since she heard that Chloe has dabbled in singing from time to time.

Prior to the Golden Globes, Beca had heard of Chloe, vaguely, but never had the chance to interact with her. At least, not in a professional sense. That is, until the director for her upcoming music video informs her that they’ve decided to cast Chloe.

Beca approves in a heartbeat because she has been dying to see Chloe in person again, but their respective schedules just mean that they haven’t had time to hang out. Chloe is so pleasant and fun to talk to via text message and sporadic phonecalls, but Beca craves something a little more physical. Besides, Chloe is pleasant, talented, and, well, Beca has eyes.

Chloe is attractive as hell.

She’s kind of excited to see her again in the daylight.

“Hi,” Beca greets, shaking Chloe’s hand once she arrives on set. The California sun bears down on them unforgivingly, but Beca thinks Chloe looks beautiful, a little flushed, but dressed casually in jean shorts and a red and blue t-shirt. Her eyes light up when she takes in Beca, unabashedly giving her a quick once-over.

Chloe laughs, light and pleasant. “Come on, Bec. I don’t do handshakes. Hug?” she asks. Beca only laughs and meets Chloe halfway, allowing her to pull their bodies together in a warm embrace.

“How have you been?” Beca asks, quickly stuffing her hands in her pockets when she finds that she doesn’t want to let go of Chloe’s waist.

“Good, just working here and there. I had my agent put my name down for this shoot when I first heard about it. I hoped name-dropping you would bump me to the front of the list.”

“That eager to see me again, huh?” Beca replies quickly, finding her tongue suddenly unstuck.

“Well, I mean, you weren’t going to ask me to hang out, so…”

It makes Beca take pause, because Chloe’s tone is flirtatious if she has to describe it. ��We’ve both been busy!” Beca exclaims, letting out a laugh.

“Yeah, sure, tell yourself that.” Chloe smiles, however, to let Beca know she means it all in jest. “I’m actually really excited we’re going to work together, finally. You’ll have to let me know if the acting bug ever comes to find you.”

Beca shudders at the thought. “I absolutely don’t think that’ll happen in this lifetime, but how about you keep me in mind if you want to work on a song together one day? I heard that one musical movie you were in. I like your voice.” Beca forces back her own blush at how absolutely nerdy that sounded.

Chloe’s smile is warmer. “One day. I like the sound of that.” She stares at Beca for a moment longer. “Well, I’m going to go finish my make-up, but I’ll see you in a bit!” Chloe giggles. “Also, I’ve never been to Disneyland before, so this is a treat.”

Chloe’s laugh still rings in Beca’s ear that it takes her a while to respond. “You’ve never been to Disneyland?”

Chloe’s voice echoes back to her as she walks backwards, still grinning radiantly at Beca. “There’s a first time for everything!”

Beca can only laugh disbelievingly. She’s still not quite sure what she did to be blessed with Chloe’s presence in her life.

PEOPLE Magazine

Chloe Beale and Beca Mitchell are FRIENDLY on the set of a new Music Video!

Shooting Mitchell’s new video last Friday, the two were seen hanging out during a lunch break at Disneyland to a lot of fanfare. They took photos with a few groups of fans before grabbing food to go. Eyewitness accounts say that the two were friendly, immersed in their own conversation.

Beale is known for her starring role in Netflix’s The Boss, which recently picked up five Emmy Award nominations and two Golden Globe wins. Mitchell is working on her second album, working off the success of her first album. Her single “FRIENDS” is her latest release.

The two were first seen together about six months ago during a Golden Globes after party.

See photos from Mitchell’s Disney-inspired music video set here!

Chloe So, we’re gonna do that again, right?

Beca Do what? Disneyland?

Chloe Yes, but this time, without the cameras. I want the full experience!

Beca It’s a d-

Beca bites her lip, quickly slamming the backspace key.

Beca you’re on, beale.

They do end up hanging out again, now that their schedules are a little less hectic. Chloe primarily films during the summer and beginning of fall more rigorously than she does the rest of the year. Beca isn’t really focused on much except the finishing the touches to her album.

They’re not...dates, per se, but they’re verging just beyond friendship. Beca enjoys spending time with Chloe, but she’s conscious of her publicist’s instructions that she keep everything tigh=tlipped and outside of the public eye, particularly since she’s still working on her own blossoming career.

All Beca hears is “stay in the closet” and it makes her hackles rise.

Still, she enjoys hanging out with Chloe - Chloe who has always lived a very public, carefree life, under the media microscope.

Chloe has become one of Beca’s closest friends, and with the speed at which Hollywood moves, Beca’s sure that Chloe is her best friend at this point. She finds herself texting her nonsensical things about fame, being a celebrity, and bounces song ideas off her. Similarly, Chloe texts her the latest updates about drama on set, her arguments with her director, and crazy fan encounters.

Above all, Beca thinks that it’s nice to share her life with somebody, even if it is in a friendship capacity. She tries not to let her mind wander too far.

Now, they’re sitting in a quiet corner at a cafe near Beca’s house. It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon, therefore there is less foot traffic.

Beca grumbles at small blind item on a gossip rag website that seems to be directed at her-slash-is about her.

She thinks that her sexuality isn’t too much of a secret, but she is careful to ensure that nothing ever really gets out because she’s still concerned with her own image as much as the next person.

It oddly feels like she’s in high school again, or even university. Where she was so concerned with what her own father thought about her choices and how she presented herself to her peers and community.

Becoming a famous musician was never really in her books, especially not with all the discouragement she received growing up, but she supposes stranger things have happened.

“You shouldn’t care so much about what people think,” Chloe murmurs, stirring her tea slowly. She watches Beca carefully.

“Not everybody can live like you,” Beca says before she can help herself. Chloe’s long history of dating flashes through her mind.

Chloe scoffs. “It’s just part of the job, sometimes. You know how it is. I just try to be as transparent as I can.” She looks concerned, then. “I’m just worried about you,” she says quietly. “You seem really...sad, sometimes and I don’t know how to help you.”

“You can’t help me,” Beca says quietly. “I don’t need help. I’m fine, like this. I can leave a perfectly fulfilling life.”

Chloe pauses, like she’s afraid to spook Beca if she speaks too quickly. “Then...why haven’t you asked me out?”

“What makes you think...I would...ask you out?” she asks, stiltedly.

Chloe blinks, like she’s surprised at Beca’s reaction. Like she’s surprised that Beca would have had any other reaction than passive acquiescence.

Beca hates simultaneously how calm Chloe is and how right she is in assessing Beca’s attraction to her. She bristles under how easily Chloe can read her, even after such a short period of time. Some of her own friends and family still struggle to break down her walls.

“Do you want me to ask you out?” Chloe asks, after a long silence.

“No! I don’t...I can’t,” Beca mutters. She pushes her mug away, not feeling like drinking coffee anymore - not when her entire body is thrumming. “You know I can’t date you publicly,” she mumbles.

Chloe looks down, a brief sadness passing over her face as she contemplates Beca’s words. “I don’t mind keeping it a secret,” she says quietly. “For you, if that’s what you need.”

It occurs to her then that Chloe legitimately likes her for some reason that Beca can’t fathom.

Another thing that flashes through Beca’s mind is how terrible it would be to keep somebody as beautiful and precious as Chloe a secret.

Still, her mind flashes to all her work, down the drain, because she believes the world isn’t ready to see that on some level.

“I don’t date, you know I don’t,” Beca says, defenses rising.

“I don’t care about your history, Bec,” Chloe says patiently. “You know that.”

“Who said anything about my history?”

Chloe glances away. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Beca’s not exactly sure that she can believe it was an accident, but she’s a master of leaving everything as buried under the surface as possible, whenever she can.

It’s how she’s always lived; it’s how she has always been told to live.

Chloe I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m really sorry.

Beca Yeah. I’m sorry for freaking out. That’s just how I am.

Chloe I’m not going to force you into something you’re not comfortable with. That would be wrong of me. I hope we can still be open with each other, though.

Chloe ...still friends?

Beca blinks. She can’t imagine not having Chloe in her life, after everything.

Beca yeah. Friends, Chlo. Always.

They don’t talk as frequently after that particular day, and they definitely don’t see each other in person again until the People’s Choice Awards in November.

Beca is attempting to follow her interviewer’s line of thought - some question about her album release date and potential tour - when she’s distracted by Chloe’s presence. Immediately, she hears the fans screaming for Chloe’s name and she wills herself not to turn, but she smells her, which only makes her groan at how big her stupid crush is.

“Hi!” Chloe says from behind her. “Beca,” she greets. Beca smiles at her interviewer before turning to greet Chloe with a kiss on the cheek or some other formal red-carpet greeting when she meets Chloe’s lips...with her own.

Her entire brain short circuits.

She is aware of two things.

First, that Chloe’s lips are impossibly soft and gentle and slightly parted, like she was going to live a slightly open-mouthed kiss on Beca’s cheek.

Second, that she responds almost instinctively and Chloe equally seems like she isn’t keen to immediately pull back.

Beca does, however. She jolts back and lets out a short laugh to cover up her shock.

Her publicist looks like she’s torn between looking shocked and furious.

There are cameras clicking all around them.

“Oh my God,” Chloe says immediately. She looks stricken and apologetic, before her face morphs and she’s immediately laughing it off, and tugging at Beca’s hand like they’ve been friends for years. “I can’t believe that happened!” she exclaims, turning towards the interviewer and camera to play it off. “I - I’ll see you inside, Bec.” She squeezes Beca’s hands once, in reassurance.

Beca exhales, trying to force a semi-believable smile on her face.

“So,” the interviewer begins. “You and Chloe are friends, huh?”

God, where does she even begin.

Beca finds Chloe in the washroom during a commercial break. She had been keeping an eye out, meticulously (and as surreptitiously as possible) scanning the crowd and rows of audience members. She ignores the persistent buzzing of her phone, likely texts from Jennifer, pushing into the bathroom with shaking hands.

“Hey Beca,” Chloe says, catching sight of Beca through the mirror. Her casualness and friendliness throws Beca off. “Congrats on the nomination. I didn’t get to say so earlier.”

“You too,” Beca says distractedly. “Okay, we’re not going to talk about how you kissed me, then?” Beca asks, trying to keep her tone light.

Chloe laughs, drying her hands. “You mean how you kissed me? In public of all things.” She grins, a little wryly. “I thought you weren’t about airing your personal life in public?”

“Okay, first, you definitely kissed me,” Beca says, unsure why she’s making such a huge deal about all of this.

She feels odd, like something in her is clawing, trying desperately to get out.

Chloe sighs, turning softer eyes towards Beca. “It was an accident, Bec,” Chloe says gently, tilting her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you and you just happened to turn your head when I was going for your cheek. I’ll settle for a hand on your shoulder next time, I promise.” She puts her hand on the door, intent on pushing it open. “For the record though, you definitely kissed me back, but I’m willing to forget about it if you want.”

“Chloe, wait,” Beca starts, immediately feeling regret rush through her. “I’m sorry, I-”

She’s not sure where that sentence was intended to go. She’s not sure what’s going to happen in the next few moments.

She’s sure that she wants to kiss Chloe again.

Maybe it’s something in her eyes, but Chloe beats her to it - or maybe she read Beca’s mind. She cups Beca’s cheeks and presses their lips firmly together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for them. Like it’s the culmination of this little dance they’ve been doing around each other for the past year.

Chloe smells vaguely of strawberries and her lips taste sweet, like peaches. Beca tilts her head, hands moving to Chloe’s waist, touching soft silk and bare skin. She feels like she’s kind of memorizing these little parts of Chloe, even if she’d like to deny herself the opportunity in the future.

Still, this is now and now, Beca’s focusing on the soft touch of Chloe’s lips against her and the gentle pressure Chloe exerts.

Beca isn’t sure when her eyes fell closed, but she’s just hoping that this isn’t some kind of fever dream because kissing Chloe is everything she imagined and more.

“Oops,” Chloe says softly, just as Beca’s eyes flutter open.

“Was that another accident?” Beca asks quietly, reaching her hands up to hold Chloe’s hands in place against her cheeks. She likes how secure she feels in Chloe’s presence.

“If you want it to be.”

Beca figures that accidents can happen in threes, as she leans up again.

Entertainment Tonight

Exclusive: See this video of Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale kissing on the red carpet! The two stars accidentally lock lips at the People’s Choice Awards. They laughed it off as friends do, afterwards.

tbc / happy bechloe week! @bechloe-week

[ridiculous-in-action]

Quintmagic Chronicles 1: Chapter 4

(THE BEGINNING | LAST | NEXT) -----------------------------------------------

Here’s some more Quintmagic Chronicles content for y’all! I’ve been holding this chapter hostage for a long while, haha. 

The backstory of Allura and Priya continues this chapter, and Kolivan makes an important space-phonecall. 

Like always, chapter under the cut~

Mystery Message

Kolivan huffs, staring down at the reports he had been sent earlier this quintant. He had received an urgent message concerning the druids’ newest experiments. Kolivan almost drops his data-pad when he finds out what is so urgent. Apparently, subjects of a secret project managed to escape their holding cells in-between experiments and now a group of them is on the loose.

“…Are those… Ulaz’ quinthybrids? He said he lost track of them after they were transferred to a more secure location”, he mumbles, frowning at the report. He exits his personal quarters and heads down the hallways of the HQ towards the command center. Upon his entry, he’s greeted by one lone agent supervising the incoming reports and the main systems.

“Leader”, she acknowledges him upon his entry into the room. She turns to him and nods, letting her mask dissolve to make herself known to him.

“Greetings, Airi”, Kolivan says, nodding at her with a brief smile. While the hybrid has only been briefly with them, she’s dead-set on serving the blade with enthusiasm and all she has. Her light-violet skin seems almost blue in the dim lighting of the room, and a row of three bioluminescent purple circles line the lower side of her eyes. Her eyes are pupil-less and of a vibrant yellow color, just like Kolivan’s own.

“What brings you here? Checking for an update on Kogane?”, Airi asks, leaning back in her seat and stretching out her arms and shoulders, implying that she’s been here for some time already, checking every incoming data and intel for any kind of unwanted extras, like a virus. It’s a boring, but very important job.

“No…I need to access some of Ulaz’ files. It might help me understand one of the reports I’ve received. Why, did you get something about him?”, Kolivan explains to the younger member of the blade.

Keith has been missing for quite some time now, disappearing during his recent solo-mission. Kolivan doubts that he’ll show up on his home. He probably got himself captured by someone.

A small chime sounds when another pack of data comes in. Airi huffs, starting the first scan.

“Sorry, but no. Not even one word… Can I be of any help?”, Airi asks, turning back towards Kolivan while she lets the scan run over the received transmission.

Kolivan is about to decline her offer, when he realizes that she’s one of the few agents at the HQ that must push themselves through lots of intel quintant after quintant. She might be able to help him progress with his small investigation.

“Thank you, I would appreciate it. I’m looking for our records on these quinthybrids Ulaz encountered”, Kolivan explains, accessing the terminal and logging himself in. Airi raises an eyebrow.

“I haven’t gotten anything about that in the time I’ve been stationed here. Check under Ulaz’ personal records, then. If you don’t find anything there, try the general main archive”, Airi recommends, turning back towards her station. She scoffed at the report from the program.

“Run inverse scan, same protocol”, she commands verbally, furrowing her eyebrows. Kolivan turns towards Ulaz’ files, skimming through the data. Just a moment later, when another chime indicates the scan finished, Airi hisses loudly.

Kolivan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the younger blade. “So, we’re playing that game, huh? Okay, it’s on! Isolate!”, Airi growls at the screen, typing in commands rapidly. So, there is something wrong with that incoming transmission.

“What is it, Airi?”, Kolivan asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The younger hybrid huffs.

“Nothing of importance, leader. I’ve just isolated a suspicious transmission. The date’s set as the next quintant, which is totally impossible”, Airi explains with a huff, resuming the scans to find out what kind of galra trickery that is.

Kolivan furrows his eyebrows, turning away from his terminal. He steps over to her, leaning over her chair and staring the transmission down, his thoughts racing. Something about the code on the screen seems awfully familiar.

That’s when Kolivan realizes why. A well-known string of numbers keeps repeating over and over, even though they make no sense. Kolivan sighs.

“Change the frequency, then invert. Then try running the decryption again”, Kolivan suggests, not taking his eyes off the screen for any tick. Airi raises her eyebrows, doubting that will work, but gives it a try anyways.

There’s a chime when the program’s done, and to Airi’s surprise, they have finally gotten the transmission decrypted. It’s an audio-file. “Huh, how’d you know this would work, leader?”, she asks Kolivan, looking at him over her shoulder.

“That was Keith’s method to decrypt data if our programs don’t work. It doesn’t often give a result, but when it does, it gives us priceless intel. Play the clip”, Kolivan states, stepping back from Airi’s chair.

Airi shakes her head. “I can’t. I’ve isolated it as it is a security risk. You can’t demand- “, she interjects, but Kolivan quickly interrupts her.

“We must take this risk. It might have crucial information. Go ahead and play it”, Kolivan insists, placing his hand on Airi’s shoulder. The hybrid hesitates, looking from Kolivan to the screen and then back. Eventually, she nods with a sigh.

“Yes, leader”, she responds, entering the command to release the file from the isolation. Upon pushing the enter button, the entire system shuts down, leaving the two in almost complete darkness.

Airi curses, trying to re-boot her systems in a haste, while Kolivan rumbles deeply in thought. He doesn’t seem concerned yet for some reason, but she can’t tell why.

That’s when a projector starts playing, and both are caught completely off-guard.

It’s Keith. He coughs. “Nora, this better work. I can’t stand leaving everyone in the dark”, he hisses towards someone outside of the view of the recording device he must have used.

“Don’t worry, they’ll get it, though it’ll probably get really messed up with your timeline… And it might mess up their systems a little. Okay, it’s recording. Go ahead, Keith”, a female voice responds from somewhere off-screen.

Keith sighs, shifting a bit to the side, before he looks back at the recording device with hesitation in his eyes.

“When you get this, it’s probably too late to stop me, but…”, Keith begins, scratching the back of his head and looking down at his feet. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m about to do something very risky and probably stupid”, he admits, sighing deeply afterwards. He raises his gaze again, and his eyes are full of regret.

< < < - > > >

Back in her own quarters, Allura changed into her marine-blue and white battle-suit, staring at her still slightly unfamiliar appearance in the mirror. Her now pink hair won’t turn back to its usual color until she could find time to wash it.

She huffed. The skin-tight suit wasn’t something she was used to wearing at all, and it had been resting in her wardrobe for quite some time and had already gathered a lot of dust. To her, it was a miracle it still fit her this perfectly. “I could have sworn that I’ve grown in all this time. How come this thing still fits? Never mind, we have a mission to carry out”, she mumbled to herself aloud, furrowing her eyebrows and forming a fist with her right hand.

“This is for our home. For our people”, she then whispered to herself, pulling open a drawer to her right and taking out a white hair-tie. She pulled her hair into a ponytail with a satisfied sigh.

“This should suffice”, she said, admiring herself in the mirror for a few more ticks before turning around and leaving her quarters.

She had expected her sister to be done already, but was surprised by the opposite. She knocked at the door opposite to her bedroom. “Priya, are you okay?”, she asked, waiting for a response. She doesn’t get one for a few ticks.

She was about to enter to check on her younger sibling, when said younger sister finally gave a response. “’Lura? I could use a little help…”, Priya responded. Her voice was slightly muffled by the door.

“I’m coming inside, okay?”, Allura informed her sister, before putting her hand on a scanner by the door.

“…Alright”, Priya responded in synch with a chime from the panel. The doors slid open.

Priyane was standing in front of her closet, tugging at her yellow and white suit, trying to reach the back and the zipper there. She was clearly frustrated at that point, tugging wildly at the fabric. Allura shook her head at that, smiling. She approached her younger sister.

“The mice tried helping me with the zipper, but it won’t budge what so ever! I think it’s stuck”, Priya explained, impatiently trying to force the suit into closing. Allura raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“…The mice?”, Allura questioned, kneeling behind her younger sister and being greeted by the sight of five mice hanging from a very stuck zipper.

“Yeah. Chuplachu and the other mice are my friends. Say Hi to my sister!”, she introduced the five colorful altean mice to her older sister Allura. The five mice greeted her with cheerful squeaks. They let go of the jammed zipper, landing on the floor with grace, right in front of Allura’s knees.

“Which one’s Chuplachu?”, Allura asked, while working to pull the yellow fabric out of the zipper. Priya didn’t have to respond that, as one of the mice climbed up into her lap. It had pastel-purple fur and blue eyes and squeaked cheerfully, doing something that Allura could only identify to be bowing. There’s a flower-shaped splotch of darker purple fur over it’s right eye.

“Well, Chuplachu, it’s an honor!”, Allura said, finally managing to pull the fabric free and closing the zipper of her sister’s suit. Allura got back up to her feet, making the purple mouse jump to the floor.

“Thanks, ‘Lura!”, the temporarily red-headed princess said, beginning to shift her skin-color to a paler color, looking again like any other altean. Allura raised her eyebrows at that, giving her sister a questioning look. Priya didn’t respond immediately, instead picking up the purple mouse from the floor and setting it down on her shoulder, before turning to her sister again.

“What? I like it this way. Looks better”, Priya defended herself, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Allura rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you want to tie your hair together, Priya?”, Allura asked, following her sister who was already leaving the room. The other princess shook her head.

“I need you to guard my bedroom. No one’s allowed in here besides mother and father. Understood?”, Priya said, turning around briefly to look at the mice. The four remaining mice nodded, giving tiny salutes at her. Priya smiled, saluting back.

“We’ll be back before you know it!”, she said, turning back towards the door and motioning for her older sister to follow her.

- - -

“So, these mice- “, Pidge realizes, pointing at the four space-mice sitting on Allura’s lap. The princess nods.

“Yeah, Platt, Plachu, Chuchule and Chulatt are the same mice as back then. I’ve only realized it recently myself”, Allura explains, pointing at each of the mice as she says their names.

“…and Chu- Chuplachu?”, Lance asks hesitantly, tilting his head with an uncertain expression. Allura’s own expression tuned somber at that. She formed her hands into fists, clutching at the fabric while trying to remain calm.

“Unfortunately, Chuplachu has been gone since before the destruction of Altea”, Coran explains, a similarly sad expression on his face.

He twirls his moustache. “The little fella died like a true hero”, he then adds with a fond sigh. The expressions of the paladins darken upon hearing that.

“Oh man”, Hunk whispers. Pidge’s glasses drop to the floor with a clattering noise, apologizing quietly and reaching down for it.

Lance stays silent. Looking at the mice, he is trying to decipher what they are thinking at that moment. He turns his gaze towards the princess, hoping to figure out what’s going on in the mice and her. Surprisingly, she has already managed to put up a mask. Lance suppresses a sigh.

The princess puts on a smile, and is about to continue her tale, when they receive an incoming transmission. The paladins jump to their feet and the princess yelps in surprise. They all head back to the bridge in a hurry, accepting the incoming call last tick. They’re greeted by the familiar face of Kolivan.

“Greetings, princess. Paladins, Coran”, he nods at each, before sighing.

“What is it, Kolivan? New intel?”, Pidge asks, sitting down in her own seat on the bridge. Lance doesn’t bother to – he has the feeling that he won’t have to.

“Yes. We’ve encountered a sudden burst of strange activity, as well as some information on Keith. We just have received a video-report from him, with… most unsettling content”, he explains, motioning for someone off-screen to do something. The image of Kolivan disappears and instead, there’s a recording of Keith. The paladins gasp in unison.

“Keith!”, Lance exclaims, his eyes widening. There their missing friend is, seeming alright and relatively unharmed aside from a few scratches.

“Nora, this better work. I can’t stand leaving everyone in the dark”, Keith hisses towards someone outside of the view of the recording device he must have used.

“Don’t worry, they’ll get it, though it’ll probably get really messed up with your timeline… And it might mess up their systems a little. Okay, it’s recording. Go ahead, Keith”, a female voice responds from somewhere off-screen.

Keith sighs, shifting a bit to the side, before he looks back at the recording device with hesitation in his eyes.

“When you get this, it’s probably too late to stop me, but…”, Keith begins, scratching the back of his head and looking down at his feet. He takes a deep breath. The paladins follow each of his small movements with their gaze.

“I’m about to do something very risky and probably stupid”, he admits, sighing deeply afterwards. He raises his gaze again, and his eyes are full of regret. Hunk yelps in surprise at that.

“What?”, he shouts in disbelief, not quite sure how he could come up with something crazy like this. Pidge shushes him.

“I can’t really tell you much besides the fact that I’m going to leave the multiverse for this, attempting to get a very old and special book away from the wrong hands”, he explains. A human-like girl steps into view from the right, though only showing her back at first.

“Retrieving the book could turn the tide for all of the multiverse. The corruption has made its way too far already. Stopping the corruption means stopping two wars”, she explains with a sigh, turning towards the camera. Pidge’s jaw drops in recognition of her features.

“What the actual Quiznak…? What the actual hell is Nora doing in space?! This- This can’t be!”, she exclaims in surprise, making the other paladins turn their heads in her direction with various levels of confusion in their expressions.

“Who is Nora?”, Hunk asks.

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