#what's this on time nonsense? as though someone is standing over you holding a timer???? as though they kick you out after 4 years?

[butshesgotthespirit]

Who invented the idea that to graduate "on time" you have to do it within 4 years? As though someone is standing over you holding a timer? Sounds fake.

[jisungsmysugadaddy]

𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤-ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙

𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 : soccer game!au, night time!au, angst, boasting, acts of kindness, friend to friend tension, swearing

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : After the soccer game, Hyunjin asks to walk you home and on your way there a few.. questionable things happen that begin to make you wonder how does your friend really feel about you.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 1.5k

"LEE KNOW! LEE KNOW! LEE KNOW!", Is what the crowd was chanting. You're running on the field with Minho and the rest of the team passing the ball to one another trying your best to make sure the other team doesn't get it, one of your teammates kicks it to you. The ball stays rolling with you. "Y/N! OVER HERE!", Hyunjin shouts at you. You attempt to kick the ball, but then... Your left foot, which was the foot that was holding you up, slid in the grass causing your other foot to miss the ball when you tried to hit it. You fall right on your ass. Hyunjin tries to make his way to help you up but instantly got distracted by the rest of the screaming players. The ball continues to roll, but one of the players from the other team ended up getting the ball instead of someone from yours.

The timer is about to go out for the last round of the game. As the opposing team is about to make a goal and win the game, Lee know swoops in and steals the ball and directs it to the other team's goal. He had three other players on him, all trying to get the ball from his feet. At the last second...He makes the goal. "YEEEEEEESSSSS!!!", Everyone from our teams stands shouted. The score on the score board changes for the last time.

Home: 37

Visitor: 36

After watching everything unfold while you were on the ground, Hyunjin finally came over and helped you up, apologizing for not doing so earlier. You then reassure him that it's okay and shortly joked about how you got a good front row seat of Lee know winning the game tonight. 

You two make your way back to the locker rooms to have your usual end-of-the-game team meeting. When you get there you see Lee Know and gave him a high-five. “Nice job out there Minho”, you praise. “Thanks, bet you got a good view from the ground”, he joked. He was lucky you two were friends and that he was only kidding, otherwise he would’ve gotten a slap to the face. The team got in a circle around the coach, you manage to wedge yourself right between Lee Know and Hyunjin. Even though you were basically being suffocated from the smell of sweaty boys and musky body spray, you still tried your best to pay attention to what the coach was saying.

“Alright, team!! Another win right under our belts. I’m proud of you guys tonight for playing a good game out there. I saw each and every one of you give it your all on the field. Especially you, Lee Know. Not to put you in the spotlight or anything but you showed some incredible foot work out there.”, the coach went on and on for about a few more minutes while everyone else was either giving lee know the side eye or staring off into space. Lee Know just stood there, nodded and smiled modestly at everything the coach was ranting about. At this point it was pretty clear that he was the favorite on the team, but you didn’t care as long as he wasn’t an arrogant asshole about it. With Hyunjin’s sweaty body slumped over your shoulder, he whispered nonsense in your ear causing you both to giggle. The coach notices in the middle of his rant, “Is something funny over there?”, he asked sarcastically. With you being completely over the coach you don’t hold back what you’re really thinking. “Yeah, I think it’s funny that you’ve made most of this team meeting about Minho as if he’s the only person here.”. Some of the players were shocked that you actually said that, but were thankful that you spoke for the rest of the players. “Plus... I want to finish the kimbap I had before the game.”. The small tension in the room was then broken by the giggles of everyone there, including the coach. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost closing time for the venue of the game. “Alright everyone, go get your stuff and head home. I’ll see you guys at practice on Monday.”

As you were packing up you asked Minho, "Hey do you have any plans tomorrow? Cuz I was wondering if could help me with a couple moves." You could see in his face that he was conflicted about something. "Sorry Y/n, I'm busy tomorrow but how about Sunday?". You wanted to relax on Sunday but you needed the extra practice so you settled for that day. "Yeah" you said with a disappointed face. He saw your face but didn't say anything about it and left after a quick wave goodbye.

Right after Lee Know left you in the locker room, Hyunjin approached you with his stuff in hand. "You want me to walk you home tonight?" He asked. You responded knowing that having a nice stroll with Hyunjin on your way home would make you feel better. "Yeah we can do that tonight." You grabbed your stuff from your locker and exited the property with Hyunjin by your side.

This wasn't the first time Hyunjin offered to walk you home and you accepted. I mean you are basically neighbors, he just lives a few blocks down the road from your house. With you two living so close together he could come over to your house whenever he wanted, which sometimes worried you. Lately Hyunjin has been wanting to be around you more often than usual. To the point to where it sometimes seemed like he was obsessed with you, but to a certain extent.

Hyunjin was always nice to be around which made your little trip back home much more enjoyable, but your arrival took longer than expected when you stopped at a convenience store for a few snacks. Hyunjin tapped you on your should as you passed by the store and nodded his head towards it, "Wanna get something before you go home?", he asked. You went on and let him treat you to some yummy snacks. You both walk in together scan the store to see what you could possibly want. Once you spot a pack of cookies and chips in the back, you speed walk your way there with no hesitation.

"Ooh this is a new flavor", "No get this one, this one's better", are some of things you and Hyunjin we're whispering to each other. With a handful of purchased snacks in both of your hands, you stop by the ramen section and make yourself and Hyunjin a bowl of sesame noodles since he argued that they're the best, even though he doesn't like sesame oil that much.

As you were you enjoying your food, Hyunjin couldn't help but stare at your face. Out of instinct, he stops eating his noodles and rests his head on his palm, all with a soft grin on his face . You noticed Hyunjin staring at you and asked "What? Is there something on my face?" Your question is what made him realize he was staring, he then snapped out of his dazed state and apologized. "Oh sorry, I was thinking about something." You giggled a little bit at the fact that he was just watching you eat. Your giggle caused him to do the same thing to help himself feel less embarrassed.

You and Hyunjin exit the convenience store with your snacks and a satisfied tummy. Returning to your route back home, the two of you are just goofing off telling jokes and just saying a bunch a weird but interesting stuff, which was what friends did. In that moment your entire mood was lifted. You and Hyunjin we're literally skipping your way home. SKIPPING! But you were both laughing at the same time because of that. It was all fun and games till a motorcycle came zooming down the alley way you guys were in and Hyunjin had to grab your hand to pull you away from the oncoming vehicle. You squealed out of shock because it all happened so fast. "You okay?", He asked. "Yeah, I'm fine.", You replied.

At this point your house is only a minute away and Hyunjin walks you to the front door . While you two are having your last conversation before you get home, you noticed he couldn't even look in your direction as you're walking. The thought quickly goes over your head when you realize you're at your destination. "Okay well, thanks for walking me home tonight.". "Anytime", he said with a grin. As you two separate that's when you realize... You two have been holding hands since the motorcycle situation. His warm, soft, hand was clasped with yours the entire time and you didn't even notice.

By the time you had all your thoughts organized, Hyunjin had already left your front door and headed to his own house. So you slept on everything that happened that night, but the idea that was forming in your head was too mind boggling for you to rest.

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: A Relative Of Yours Calls Him A Member Of The Family

Jin:

Your family were thrilled to welcome Jin to your annual family gathering, each year all of you came together to spend with each other and catch up. “How’s your first Y/L/N gathering been Jin? I hope we’ve not been scary.”

“No, not at all, I’ve loved it.”

“You’re a part of our family now, it’s right that you’re here,” your auntie pointed out.

“Oh, thank you,” he blushed, looking across at you, taking a hold of your hand, squeezing it, “I love being a part of the family.”

You chuckled, leaning across onto him, “I’m so glad that they love you as much as I do,” you whispered into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m lucky to have been so welcomed by them all, you’re lucky having a family as amazing as you guys,” he assured you.

You smiled across at all your family, especially your aunt, who knew just how special Jin was for you. “As a new member of our family, there is an initiation you have to go through, the dirty pint is over there if you want it.”

“Well I can’t say no, can I?” He laughed, taking the glass from your father, “I’m definitely going to regret this afterwards.”

“Drink up Jin, you’re one of us now.”

Yoongi:

No one expected to see Yoongi by your side when you came home from Korea, shrieks of excitement rang through, as your parents came over to greet you both. “Welcome home, both of you,” your mother whispered to you.

“It’s so good to see you both.”

“It’s nice to be able to see you both again Mr Y/L/N,” Yoongi spoke, shaking his hand.

“My name is Y/F/N,” your dad told him, pulling him into a hug, “you’re a part of our family, you don’t need to address me like that.”

Yoongi looked across at you with wide eyes, “sorry Y/F/N,” he spoke, pulling away from him. “It’s really nice of you to welcome me back into your home.”

“You make our girl happy, you’re one of us now, you’re welcome at our home any time,” your mother assured him, giving him a hug too.

Your hand intertwined with his hand, squeezing it gently, “I told you that there was nothing to worried about, they adore you,” you teased, feeling his lips press to the top of your head, giggling to himself lightly.

“I’m glad they like me,” he whispered so they couldn’t hear, “it’s a great relief knowing that your family approve of me too.”

“They’ve always approved of you really Yoongs.”

Hoseok:

Your birthday was always a huge deal, birthdays in general were huge in your family, something Hobi failed to prepare himself for. “There’s so many people here I’ve never met before Y/N,” he sighed to you, looking around.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

“Y/N, Hobi, let me introduce him to my cousin,” your mother called, beckoning you over.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she smiled, hugging you as your mother pointed you out, “I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”

Hobi’s head shook, “I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, I don’t get to spend much time in the city, I’m meeting a lot of new people around today at the party.”

“Don’t be so humble, he’s a huge part of the family now,” your mother told him, wrapping an arm around him, “he fits right in.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Hobi’s smile grew, he’d never been told something like that before, glancing across at your mother. “I just want to make Y/N happy, she’s incredibly lucky to have such a great family too.”

“We’re a big family,” she chuckled, “but I’m glad to see Y/N has clearly found someone as incredible as you to be with.”

“He’s a great guy, I’m a very lucky girl.”

Namjoon:

A knock at the door caught your sister’s attention, she quickly ran over, smiling when she saw who was stood at the other side. “The last member of the family is finally here!” She called out, revealing Namjoon stood outside.

“It’s so good you could make it.”

“Mum!” You sighed as she hugged him tightly before you could wrap your arms around him.

“Did you hear what she said?” He whispered into your ear as his arms wrapped around you, “your sister said I was part of the family.”

You pulled back from him, “that’s because you are part of our family, everyone loves you, they’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

“I don’t know what I did to get such an incredible family sometimes,” he laughed, resting his head on top of yours, “your family are great.”

Your head shook, sitting down to the table with him, “it’s all on you that they love you so much, they all adore you because you’re you. If I’m honest, at times I think they prefer you to me some days with the things they say.”

“You’ll always be my favourite though,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “that meant a lot for me to hear though.”

“I know, it meant a lot to me too.”

Jimin:

You stood at the back as everyone huddled together to take a family photo in your grandmother’s garden, making sure you were out of view. “Jimin, what are you doing stood over there?” You heard your uncle call out.

“I’m not really part of the family.”

“That’s nonsense, go and stand with Y/N, you’re a part of our family,” he told him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, watching as every single member of your family nodded their heads, “alright, I’ll stand at the back.”

He walked over to join you, noticing your smile, “I told you that everyone would want you in this photo, you really are a part of the family now.”

“I didn’t want to get in if they didn’t want me,” he reminded you, “but seeing everyone so keen for me to get in really made me smile.”

You wrapped your arm around his waist, smiling as the camera went off on its timer, snapping a photo of you all. “Everyone loves you in my family, you’re very much one of us from now on too.”

“Your family are great,” he smiled across at you, pecking your cheek, “It’s an honour to be a member of your family.”

“You’re always a part of us now.”

Taehyung:

You’d never seen him so nervous since you’d met him as you introduced him to all of the new members of your family, he was meeting. “None of them are going to bite, I hope you know that,” you told him, hugging him tight.

“It’s scary, I want them to like me.”

“Want who to like you?” You heard a voice ask, looking around just as your father approached.

“Tae’s scared that people won’t like him,” you told him, squeezing onto Tae’s arm, “tell him that everyone will like him.”

Your father nodded, “everyone knows that you’re a part of our family, Y/N’s mum and I have told them all the good things about you too.”

“I told him that, everyone is excited to see you and get to meet you, you’ve got no reason to be scared,” you assured him.

He nodded, kissing the top of your head, “I appreciate your kindness Mr Y/L/N, I just want everyone to think that I’m the right choice for Y/N,” he told you all once again, watching as you both smiled widely.

“If anyone gives you any trouble, you bring them to me and I’ll tell them how great you are,” your father told him.

“Wow, that means a lot to me, thank you.”

Jungkook:

The famous drink of your family was passed around, as tradition everyone took a sip from it, but as your brother passed it onto Jungkook, everyone roared when he moved it straight to you. “I think everyone wants you to drink.”

“You’re one of us now Jungkook.”

“Alright,” he blushed taking a sip from the bottle, passing it onto you, wiping around his mouth.

“Easy,” you grinned, taking your sip before passing it on, turning to face him with a wide smile. “I’ve never seen them get so angry.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm tightly around you, “I’ve never felt loved by so many people, even though they were all yelling at me.”

“You’re a part of this family now, no going back, the drink is a huge tradition,” you told him, watching as it continued to passed around.

He chuckled, resting closely against your frame, “I feel like I’ve just got the seal of approval from all your family,” he grinned, feeling your lips press to his cheek, “that really filled my heart, listening to them all.”

“Everyone loves you; I knew as soon as you passed that to me something was going to be said,” you told him with a smile.

“I took a drink, that’s all that matters.”

---

Masterlist

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Luke 24:38

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Getting relationship advice is kind of hard when you have to omit that the relationship in question is with a Prince of Hell.

***

“... And so, this friend of yours ghosted you?”

“Yes. I don’t think I did anything wrong - they were about to fall on their face and so I caught them, what else was I meant to do? I just tried to help, for Heaven’s sake!”

“Right.”

“It’s been a week and they haven’t showed up again. I don’t understand. They usually appear at my place every other day - or night - usually night--”

“Oh, you gave them the keys to your flat? Sounds serious, then.”

“What? No, they don’t need the ke-- I mean-- yes. Right.” Gabriel cleared this throat, still pacing back and forth, reminding himself that mortals would find it quite odd that this friend of his could, quite literally, appear in his bedroom in a burst of flames that would probably set off the fire alarm sooner or later.

If Beelzebub was ever going to appear again in a burst of flames or otherwise, of course. They may never do so again. And the notion grated him. “They… do have the keys,” he muttered. The problem with his human friends was that there was a lot he couldn’t tell them, but the notion of talking about this with the other archangels… well. It was awkward to put it mildly. “But the point is, they’re not showing up anymore and I think I am owed an explanation, don’t you think?”

“Hu-uh,” Fabrizio said through his mouthful of sandwich. 

Gabriel turned on his heel, starting another round across the break room just as Łukasz spoke. 

“All right, I have to ask - is grabbing them before they fell really all you did?” he asked, causing Gabriel to blink, looking up.

“What?”

“I don’t know, maybe your hand slipped, and it was. You know, inappropriate?”

Hey, get a room!, the boy had yelled, right before the wheels of his bike mysteriously caught fire and sent him crashing into the pond. Gabriel hadn’t paid it much attention, but it made it back to his mind now and he’d spent too much time on Earth not to have grasped what it meant, however dim his concept of carnal desire was - a thing he knew existed, but which had never been of his concern. It still was none of his concern. 

Right?

“What-- no!” Gabriel sputtered, face suddenly aflame. “If you’re suggesting I’d do anything inappropriate, I never--!”

“Whoa, all right, calm down! I told you, as an accident!” Łukasz held up his hands. “Are you really sure there isn’t anything else that happened? Because storming off for being caught before falling is kind of… well…”

“An overreaction,” Fabrizio said, once again through a mouthful of his lunch. Łukasz raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes, that. Bit rich coming from you, though. You announced I’m going to Hell for putting cream in carbonara, you dramatic ass.”

“He is right, actually, and you should stop,” Gabriel informed him, matter-of-factly, causing Łukasz to throw his hands in the air with an exasperated noise and Fabrizio to laugh hard enough he almost choked on a sundried tomato.

“You’re the worst and I wish Daniel were still here to agree with me,” Łukasz lamented. “Look, are you sure nothing else happened?”

“Well…” Gabriel stopped pacing, hesitating a moment. “... We did have a disagreement, I suppose. Over, uh. An old job.”

“What, you were colleagues?”

“A very long time ago. We were both very different people then. They were fired long before I was, and at the time I agreed with--” divine judgment “--the management.”

A scoff from Fabrizio. “And they fired you anyway. Typical. I have yet to work a job where the management knows the first thing about what they’re doing.”

“It’s… complicated. It’s more that they handed in their notice, only the terms they got were not favorable. But the management they’re under now is arguably worse.” A pause. “I pointed that out. They didn’t like that.”

This insult will not stand! You take it back right now!

“See? Maybe that was it, not just grabbing them.”

Unhand me right now!

“... They didn’t like me catching them, either.”

“What did they want you to do, let them fall?”

Why not? I did before.

The thought was a sudden stab of pain somewhere in his chest, and Gabriel chased away the thought. No, he hadn’t let them fall - he had tried to reach out. Both had tried to reach out for the other, neither had taken the other’s hand, and what had happened next was entirely out of Gabriel’s hands. In the end, he sighed. 

“I don’t know,” Gabriel muttered, just as the timer on his watch went off. Ah, there it was, the end of lunch break. As Fabrizio seemingly unhinged his jaw like a boa to swallow the rest of his frankly oversized sandwich, in a move Crowley would be proud to witness, Łukasz shrugged.

“Have you tried calling them?”

“Calling?”

“Or sending a message. You’ve got their number, no?”

He did, as a matter of fact, although he saw little point to it when he could quite literally call their name to see them materializing before him. That was an option, but at the same time it grated his nerves - the idea of calling out for them while they didn’t bother to get in touch at all. He frowned. “I am not desperate yet.”

“Yet?” Łukasz repeated innocently, causing Gabriel’s frown to deepen and Fabrizio to guwaff.

“Hah! Look, I tried to do the aloof thing with my girlfriend too, and you know how it went? I don’t have a girlfriend. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“What…?” Gabriel blinked, taken aback, and stated at him like he’d just grown antlers. Wait, what was he thinking? “This is not-- they are not even remotely my girlfriend, it’s not like that--”

“Ah, right, sorry. Significant other, in this case,” he cut him off, entirely misunderstanding what Gabriel’s correction had been really about. “Anyway, call them.”

“No, they’re not my significant anything-- we-- it was them to storm off, I have no obligation--”

“Guys! Lunch break is over! Get your asses over here so I can have mine!”

Fabrizio shrugged, patting his shoulder. “All right, you do you. Just don’t complain once you’re single,” he said, and walked out, leaving Gabriel to stare at his retreating back, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. 

“... You all right?” Łukasz’s voice came from very far away. Gabriel recoiled, and shook his head. 

“Yes. I’m fine,” he muttered, and walked past him, doing his utmost to push that nonsense in the back of his mind and think no more of it.

He had about as much success as he’d had trying to talk the Antichrist into bringing forth the end of times.

***

For the eighteen-hundred and thirty-second time, the mug shattered in a hundred pieces on the stone floor. For the eighteen-hundred and thirty-second time the pieces came together again, leaving the mug unscathed. For the eighteen-hundred and thirty-second time Beelzebub, Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies, picked it up and stared at it as though expecting to see some kind of great secret revealed on its surface.

On the side of the mug, the Titanic remained still, halfway into the water. After a few moments of silence, the mug was thrown on the floor to shatter for the eighteen-hundred and thirty-third time. For the eighteen-hundred and thirty-third time, it came back together and Beelzebub picked it up to stare some more at the ship printed on it.

At this point, Dagon had questions.

Questions were among the things that had landed them in not-really-metaphorical hot water a very long time ago, and truth be told they were not the safest thing to ask in Hell, either. She was, however, trusted enough by Lord Beelzebub to speak her mind. Most of her mind. Most of the time. “Is something the matter, Lord Beelzebub?”

The Lord of the Flies took their eyes off the mug to give her a look which let her know, in no uncertain terms, that they found the question amazingly stupid for how obvious it was that something was indeed the matter. She was not ordered to be silent, at any rate, which made her bold enough to speak again. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem displeased.”

“Mph,” was the reply as the mug was thrown to crash on the floor for the  eighteen-hundred and thirty-fourth time. “This stupid mug displeases me. The imbecile who gave it to me like it would be even remotely enough to win my favor displeases me.” The mug in question came back together for the eighteen-hundred and thirty-fourth time. 

Maybe Dagon should just stop counting.

“I assume you’re referring to your attempt at getting a hold of the soul of the former archangel? Surely it is a good sign that he has given you a, uh… mug. As a… token of his loyalty?” she faltered a little, not really knowing what else that mug was supposed to be. If Beelzebub’s snort as they picked up the mug once more was anything to go by, ‘token of loyalty’ was not it.

“This pathetic thing is no token and there is no loyalty involved. It is a gift of sorts.” 

Dagon blinked. “A gift?”

“Yes. And the imbecile probably even scored a good deed in getting it for me, to add insult to injury.” The Prince of Hell’s scowl deepened, and the mug crashed on the floor for the… upteenth time.

“... So it is some kind of plan from his part to thwart you?”

“The idiot cannot plan to save his miserable mortal life,” Beelzebub snapped, glaring down at the mug as it fixed itself once more. “He only ever followed one plan his entire existence, someone else’s. Now he has none - all he can do is spew out the most obnoxious nonsense!”

“I understand,” Dagon said, not understanding at all. She just watched as Beelzebub slammed the mug on the table beside their throne, this time without shattering it but still glaring death at it all the while. Finally, they stood. 

“I will have his soul. It is a matter of principle.”

“Of course.”

“He spent his existence serving someone who threw him out at the first failure - who does he think he is, to just start lecturing--” they trailed off with a scoff, waving a hand. “Neither of us could bring about the Apocalypse, neither of us could punish the traitor, but I am Prince of Hell still. My loyalty was recognized - and where has his loyalty landed him?”

“In Soho,” said Dagon, who was not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it came to figures of speech. Not that Beelzebub minded the rather literal nature of their reply. 

“Exactly! Some thanks he got for his eons of work, doing everything by the book - and now he thinks he can question Satan, of all beings!”

The notion of questioning Satan was unthinkable enough to make Dagon visibly shudder, clasping her hands behind her back. “If you win-- I mean, when you win his soul, he’d better learn his place quckly, or he will not last as a demon.”

“Of course he wouldn’t last! He thinks it was bad being cast out! Hah! There is no being cast out of Hell. Questioning Satan means destruction for any of us, and--” they trailed off, suddenly, and to Dagon’s confusion their expression went from frustration to astonishment, like something mind-blowing had just occurred to them. It wasn’t often they were so fazed and Dagon might have asked, if not for the fact the Lord of the Flies’ features twisted into fury once again the next moment. 

“He’ll learn better, or face the consequences,” they buzzed furiously. “You’re dismissed.”

“Huh. My Lord, I am here concerning the filing system upgrade you reque--”

“GET OUT!” Beelzebub’s shout was underlined by a burst of flames and furiously buzzing flies, which told Dagon in no uncertain terms that was the right moment to take her leave.

Questioning Satan was unthinkable, but questioning Beelzebub was not a very bright idea either.

***

“I certainly hope I have not taken you from important duties by calling you here - duties which I’d rather know as little about as possible,” Gabriel said. He managed a smile, passing the mug from one hand to the other. “You must have been busy. I must say, I have been busy myself. Time flew by. I just now realized we haven’t met in a couple of weeks.” 

A pause. 

“... Not that I was actively thinking of it, of course, but I just happened to pass by a store, and they had this mug on display. Since you seem to like mugs, I figured it would be right up your alley. I understand if not, I purchased it just in case - I could use a new mug myself, I could keep it. That was the idea, actually. That you might like it was more of an afterthought, but either wa-”

“Sir.” Gabriel’s little speech to the wall was cut off, and he turned to see a rather exhausted-looking clerk staring at him, and then down at the mug in his hands. 

“It’s closing time. Do you want to purchase either of those?” he asked. Witnessing a client talking to the wall for several minutes while holding mugs didn’t really seem to faze him.

Closing time already? He must have been standing there longer than he thought. About an hour longer than he thought. “Ah,” Gabriel said, and looked down at the mugs he’d picked up. One read ‘Boss From Hell’ printed in back letters and surrounded by flames, while the other read ‘Tears Of My Employees’. He tried to make himself pick one in the following five seconds, failed, and sighed. 

“I’ll buy both.”

“We have a discount, that would be ten pounds. Twelve if you buy a third.”

“Oh. In that case…” Gabriel turned and grabbed what had been his third choice, ‘Bitter As Hell’. “I’ll take this one as well.”

It didn’t occur to him that trying to claim he had just so happened to buy three mugs Beelzebub might like, entirely incidentally, might not be an easy lie to sell.

***

“Why rebel to the absolute authority of God to pass absolute the absolute authority of Satan,” he’d said. 

“It was God’s Great Plan you were fulfilling,” he’d said.

“I didn’t mean to grab you,” he’s said. 

There was absolutely not one aspect of their last conversation that did not make Beelzebub want to burn down a planet or two or twenty before returning to Earth to choke him with the very mug he had foolishly gifted them. First of all because he deserved it and, secondly, because he had a point and it was the single most infuriating thing Beelzebub had to admit to themselves in the past several millennia. 

There had been a similar conversation before, hadn’t there? Only that the roles were reversed, then.

“We do all the work, no? God has done nothing but give orders in eons,” Ba’al had said, a very long time ago.

The ruler keeping away, not really talking to anyone, giving instructions that are not always exactly clear or giving none.

“Don’t you dare say such a thing! None of us is above--” 

This insult will not stand!

Overall that seed of extremely uncomfortable doubt was the most worrying thing, and therefore Beelzebub made what seemed the most logical move: ignored it entirely hoping it’d die off like an unwatered plant, and focused on the other infuriating thing about their latest exchange. 

He’d picked them up. He had dared pick them up, just like that, presuming he was allowed to touch them - that was the infuriating part. The worrying part, though not as worrying as an attempt at questioning the very foundation of their existence, was that outrage hadn’t arrived immediately after the surprise faded. Something else had, which Ba’al may have felt once but not Beelzebub, not ever, not since the Fall that forged them into what they were now.

They’d ordered Gabriel to unhand him without knowing exactly what they would have done if he had not, and try as they might there was no denying a pang of something that felt suspiciously like disappointment when he had, indeed, unhanded them. And that stupid look on his face...

Hey, get a room!

Ridiculous suggestion, ridiculous idea. They were not even human, and were not among the demons who ever held any interest in carnal matters. Gabriel may be human now, but surely neither would he. And if he did-- no. No, it was ludicrous.  

Everything about this is ludicrous. I should have burned that mortal to a crisp. Should have burned Gabriel to a crisp when I found him, let his soul go wherever, and forgotten about it. 

But they hadn’t and now they were stuck, because getting his soul was a matter of pride and they really should go back on Earth to make sure he wasn’t behaving too well and earning himself access to Heaven. If he did, and returned there as a mortal soul in the lower spheres after death, it would mean defeat… and never seeing him again, because mortal souls couldn’t leave Heaven any more than demons could enter it. 

Either I win his soul, or the end of his laughable lifespan will be the last I see of him. And I am losing that fight.

“Well, good riddance,” Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies and Prince of Hell, told the empty room. Empty words. Empty lie. 

And keeping up willful ignorance was getting difficult, more and more unwise by the day.

***

“Uh, angel?”

“Yes?”

“Since when you have pornography books?”

“Oh, a good while now,” Aziraphale replied, as casually as he might have informed him that it was mildly breezy outside. “They’re all first editions.”

“Ah.” Crowley cleared his throat, skimming through it. It was illustrated, showing men in various interesting as well as rather indelicate positions. Some of which had to be bullshit, because there was no way a human being’s skeletal structure may allow for such flexibility. “Not very holy, I have to say,” he said, choosing not to comment on the fact it was right next to a first edition of the King James Bible.

“They’re collectibles. I acquired that one in a discreet gentlemen’s club, one of the patrons - a grandson of Queen Victoria, I believe - was selling it.”

“A discreet gentlemen’s club.”

"Yes, in the 1880s. The Hundred Guineas Club.”

“The-- wait, that club? In Portland Place?”

“Yes, you heard of it?”

He had and, considering it was the most exclusive gay club in London at the time, so had plenty others. His eyebrows went up almost to his hairline. Surely he had not… no, not Aziraphale, he couldn’t imagine it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. “... I heard it mentioned once or twice.”

“It was a nice place, I was quite put off when they shut down. I learned to dance the gavotte there."

“The gavotte.”

“You know, the dance?”

“You went to the Hundred Guineas Club and learned the gavotte.”

Still focused on the books he was cataloguing - apparently, moving books from one bookcase to the other was… more complicated than just grabbing them and moving into another bookcase - Aziraphale shrugged. “Well, it was more convenient than going all the way to France,” he said, like he had not taken a trip to France in the midst of the Revolution, dressed as a nobleman, to eat some crêpes. 

“... Fair,” Crowley muttered, putting the book down and stepping closer to the shelves. In the end, they had elected to only move some of Aziraphale’s most prized books in the cottage and leave the rest in the bookstore. After all, with a door now miraculously connecting them, it would be a simple matter of stepping through it. “How’d Gabriel even know you had this sort of book?”

“Oh, I don’t think he did. I have no idea what that was all about, in all honesty. It did cause some awkwardness when a customer present returned asking to see the books I have in the back of the store. I had to turn him down - they’re not for sale,” he added, stepping back from the bookcase to admire how the books looked in it. He seemed satisfied. 

“Heh. If Gabriel shows up again asking for pornography, you should show him this.”

“That would be most inappropriate,” Aziraphale replied, somehow managing a tone that said he disapproved as well as a look that hinted he was at least amused by the notion. “Which he is now aware of, thank God, so unless he loses his mind he is unlikely to come to me asking for pornography,” he added, and both of them forgot something rather important he should have learned long ago.

Unlikely was not impossible.

***

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“What-- there is no meaning. It’s just mugs.”

“You summoned me to show me mugs? Are you mocking me?”

“No! I just bought these for myself, and I figured you might… er…” Gabriel paused, unsure. It finally occurred to him that the claim was… a little less than believable, and he may be better off telling the Prince of Hell something a bit closer to the actual truth. “I bought them as… apology.”

Beelzebub turned to look at him, clearly taken aback for a moment before they narrowed their eyes. “And pray tell, what are you apologizing for?”

Gabriel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a little taken aback by the question. “For-- grabbing you?”

“... Yes, I suppose I am owed an apology for that too.”

Ah. Right. “If it’s about what I said about you letting Satan have absolute power after rebelling against absolute power--”

“Yes. Apologize.”

Gabriel frowned a little. “You know I have a point.”

“You do not.”

“You wouldn’t be so cross about it if you didn’t know that I do,” Gabriel remarked. 

Beelzebub’s expression soured, but they didn’t try to argue that point. Instead, they turned to look at the mugs. “An appropriate payment for your insolence would be your soul, but for now, these will do just as well.”

As much as the statement should have relieved him, something about it rubbed him the wrong way. “Wait, is that what my soul is worth? Twelve pounds?”

“I said for now, mortal.”

“Oh. I mean, good. I was starting to feel insulted,” Gabriel managed to joke, smiling. Beelzebub raised an eyebrow at him.

“Also, while I am not an expert in human etiquette when it comes to… gifts, I am fairly sure you are not supposed to disclose the price paid for it to the recipient.

Gabriel’s smile went out like a burned-out lightbulb. “Ah. Fuck,” was the brilliant reply. For the briefest moment, the corners of Beelzebub’s lips seemed to quirk upwards before their gaze turned inquisitive. Which was… probably not a good sign. 

“You are a mortal now.”

“... I am aware?”

“And a great many mortals have desires. The carnal sort.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, sputtered, and felt his face catch fire. 

Hey, get a room!

“Yes, I-- I suppose-- they do,” he muttered. It had been simply a fact he had been vaguely aware of for a long time, of absolutely no relevance to him. He still was of no relevance to him, or so he had thought until very, very recently. 

When the Prince of Hell had suddenly been in his arms, the weight and warmth of them, the closeness, the grip on his shirt right over a fast-beating heart he couldn’t entirely blame on jogging. How right it had felt. How reluctant he was to let go. 

Beelzebub stared, expression unreadable; only the clearing of their throat revealed the barest trace of discomfort. “Well. Do you?” they asked, their gaze resting on just about everything in the room except Gabriel, who was beginning to wish God would smite him where he stood.

“No, I--” he paused, trying with very little success to recollect his thoughts. Not that he’d precisely had carnal desires - or at least he didn’t think he did - he knew very little of what those would entail. It was not something he’d looked into. Perhaps he should seek advice. “I don’t… think I do?”

Beelzebub turned away, too quick for Gabriel to gauge their expression, and grabbed the mugs. “I see,” they said, their voice entirely flat. “Well then. Your boon and apology are accepted.”

“Ah. Good.” Gabriel cleared his throat, trying to recover some semblance of control. “Well, if you are not busy this evening, I was wondering if you’d--” 

There was a burst of flames, louder and taller than usual, followed by the wail of the fire alarm that had, at long last, detected the presence of hellfire. Gabriel ignored it, just staring in silence at the spot where Beelzebub had stood only a moment earlier, feeling a lot like he had just failed a test he did not understand.

***

"And He said to them, 'Why are you troubled? And why do doubts arise in your hearts?'" -- Luke 24:38

***

[Back]

[Next]

[yume-fanfare]

Aiming towards the heroine, Suzumi Hiyori

this is a translation of one of the four short stories HoneyWorks posted at the beginning of the pandemic!  it’s written by Kosaka Mari, you can read it in japanese here. this was translated from this spanish translation by mieltrabajos.

Other stories:

The whereabouts of the roast beef

Two people at the school festival

Who is the owner?

Aiming towards the heroine, Suzumi Hiyori!

Walking towards the studio with the popular high school idols was LIPxLIP's manager in practice, Suzumi Hiyori. That day they'd be taking photos for a magazine. Although she was used to working, she was nervous when they took those kinds of jobs. Plus, that day they'd be with someone whom Hiyori admired, Narumi Sena.

When she stopped her amongst the staff, Hiyori gasped.

“Narumi Sena is so cute!"

She had been modeling since she was in middle school, so she'd always had a great figure. Her waist was slim and her legs were long and slender. Her egg-shaped face was small and her eyes and lips stood out.

“Hiyori-chan, hand this out to everyone,” a woman from the staff called out, and Hiyori nodded.

They gave her a tray with cups of both tea and coffee, and she offered them to the people around her, which included Sena.

(You can’t fail today!)

I’ve done hard work before.

It’s very important I don’t spill tea or coffee on Sena’s clothes like last time.

“Excuse me…,” she nervously called out to Sena, who was checking her phone. When she turned towards her, Hiyori offered: “Drink these, please!”

The model smiles and giggles, taking the cup.

“Thank you.”

(Phew~)

Even if Hiyori was just a staff member, she had thanked her properly.

Having forgotten her duty, Hiyori zoned out staring at Sena. The more she looked at her, the prettier she seemed.

(She’s totally different from us~)

Sena, bringing the cup to her lips, noticed Hiyori’s stare and met her eyes.

“Uh! Narumi, you’re a senpai in Sakuragaoka…”

“Ah, yes. That’s right. Could it be… you too?”

“Yes!” Hiyori nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling.

“So, you’re in the same year as those two…”

“Yes…”

Standing a few meters away from them, Aizou and Yuujirou were talking to a staff member. 

They returned her gaze, so Hiyori quickly averted it.

“Oh, so you guys are my kouhais, how nice.” Sena smiled, drinking tea, and then asked Hiyori: “Do you like school?”

“Yes, though it can be difficult…”

The boys casually glanced back at her with a clear question in their eyes: “What are you doing?”

“I see... I’ll cheer you on!”

Maybe it was just because of the situation, but the words brightened her mood.

“I’ll do my best!”

“That’s the spirit!” Sena answered. “Oh, and thank you for this!” She gave her cup back to Hiyori, who left to put it away.

“She’s so cute… Narumi-san.”

Hiyori then got serious and declared:

“I think I’ll be able to make it if I work hard!”

“Nah, that’s impossible.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

From right behind her, Aizou and Yuujirou smirked while saying those words.

(Oh, go away!)

“I don’t know what to do with you two!” She turned away, puffing her cheeks.

---

The next day, after school, Hiyori was in club practice.

“Let’s fight!”

The other club members observed her determined look as they stretched.

Hiyori was in the track and field club. She had been invited by the club’s supervisor. Ever since she left her hometown for the city and chose to attend Sakuragaoka, she knew she would join the track and field club.

When she had work as manager in training, she was asked to leave school early, but besides that, she mostly spent her time doing club activities, even if she had to put them aside sometimes.

She really wanted to focus on club activities, but she was living alone so she really needed to earn money for living expenses.

This too, is to live.

It was a secret to everyone in her class and department that she worked part-time as a manager. There would be many jealous people if one were to say they work as an idol manager in training. Though she was already used to the occasional threatening look.

Plus, those two are completely different to what people think they are.

(I’ll get my revenge!)

Remembering their prideful faces made her sick. She raised her eyebrows, angry.

“Suzumi~! You can take a break now!”

“Teacher, I’ll run around some more another time!” she said, jumping to the ground and racing towards the main gate.

(Absolutely, absolutely… I’ll be like Narumi-san!)

-

“See you later, Aizou, Yuujirou!” 

At the gate, Aizou and Yuujirou were waving to some yelling girls.

A refreshing smile was painted on their faces, very different to the gloomy faces she saw at work. Walking as fast as they could, they tried to get into their manager’s car before looking back one last time.

Hiyori got on her bicycle and raised her fist.

“Let’s do this!”

---

Hiyori, who had voluntarily been running even after club activities, got back to the clubroom, tired.

She had gotten back much later than the other members, when they were already changing back into their uniforms.

“I ran too much,” she sighed, opening the door

Hina, her senpai, approached her.

“Hiyori-chan! I was worried since you were taking so long. How far did you run?”

“I’m sorry, Setoguchi-senpai, sorry!” She quickly bowed her head and then laughed, putting a hand behind her neck. “I was running laps, and I lost track of time.”

Hina smiled.

“Ahh, you can’t help it.”

“What’s the matter? I rush things. It’s a good thing, right? I just…”

“What is it?”

“I want to improve my figure.” She pressed her index fingers together, blushing.

Hina rolled her eyes.

“Your figure…” she answered.

“Like Sena-chan!” she answered with a serious look.

Hina laughed.

“That’s why you ran so much?”

“Setoguchi-senpai, I want to tell everyone!” she exclaimed, getting red and fussy.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing but… Hiyori-chan, are you feeling okay?”

“Of course, Setoguchi-senpai, I guarantee you.”

Hiyori sighed.

“I won’t butt in then. But… I can understand your feelings a bit. I wish I was more like her,” Hina admitted shyly, tapping her chin with her finger.

(Well, Setoguchi-senpai is really cute the way she is…)

Her pigtails look cute too.

“Oh, you should change clothes quickly. I have to close up soon!” Hina pulled out the key to the clubroom and smiled.

“Oh, wait for me~!” Hiyori quickly took off her jersey and pulled out her uniform from the locker.

---

When she got back to her apartment, she stared at the poster in the wall and started.

“... 97, 98, 99…” 

Sit-ups.

When she got to a hundred, she let herself drop on the floor, exhausted. She looked at the ceiling, breathing heavily and let out a long sigh.

When she closed her eyes, she out imagine a thick steak and a cream-filled crêpe floating behind her eyelids.

“To be a heroine… right?”

She was working hard every day to be like Sena.

“That’s right, even those two…”

Remembering the ones who laughed at her in her face, Hiyori frowned.

(Agh, they’ll see, you’re working very hard).

“I won’t lose!” She got up and started doing push-ups. “1, 2, 3, 4…”

(I can do it… I can do it… I’ll turn into a heroine from today on!!!)

---

Hiyori was in front of the starting line. She did a small jump and then got into the starting position.

Today’s club activity was a short-distance run.

When an upperclassman blew the whistle, she immediately started running towards the finishing line.

The man holding the timer said:

“Wow, Suzumi-san, we’re going to have to update your best score!”

Hiyori didn’t stop, screaming:

“Let’s do it!”

Her voice carried over to the soccer and baseball teams, who were practicing.

Enomoto Kotarou, who was on the soccer team, turned around, surprised.

“What…?!”

Some other members who were practicing forgot to keep kicking the ball too and turned to look at Hiyori run.

“That must be the star of Sakuragaoka’s track and field club!”

The club president smiled with satisfaction, nodding as he watched her go.

“How far are you running, Hiyori-chan?!” Hina, who had just taken a break, said in a hurried and worried tone.

Suddenly, Hiyori fell face first on the floor and did not get up.

“Hey, Hiyori-chan!” Hina shook her rushedly. Her eyes were completely white.

---

Hiyori hummed and opened her eyes, feeling rested.

“Where am I?” 

Looking around, she found herself in a quiet forest, surrounded by trees. She was wearing a red dress. 

“This is…!” she exclaimed, surprised, and turned around to see it better. “Um… I really am a heroine!!” She lifter the hem of the skirt and confirmed that she was wearing matching red heels. “Finally, I turned into a heroine too!”

She raised her hands and jumped, happy.

(Maybe I’ll meet a charming prince soon!)

She clasped her hands together as she daydreamed. Then, coming from somewhere, she heard a voice singing.

From behind the shade of a tree, she saw a shining cape.

“That…! Maybe it’s my prince…!” Hiyori gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

When she looked closer, she saw that what the cape covered was a thick meat steak. On its side was a sticker that read: “5% off”.

“It’s a special beefsteak!”

But Hiyori tripped, lost to her own selfishness.

The cape-wearing beefsteak slipped away, singing as it escaped to a deeper part of the forest.

“Wait, no! My steak!”

---

“Steak…! A good steak… singing… don’t leave, please…!” Hiyori suddenly woke up, blinking. “I’m right here…”

She got up and looked around. She was in a bed in the school infirmary. The sun was setting and the room was dyed in orange.

“I’m glad you woke up!” a girl who wore the track and field club shirt met her gaze.

“Setoguchi-senpai!” 

When Hiyori looked at herself, she saw she was still wearing the club clothes.

(It was a dream…)

Hiyori sighed, disappointed to find out she wasn’t a heroine yet.

“You always say you can do it, right?”

“I’m sorry!” Hiyori pressed her hands together in an apology.

(I worried Setoguchi-senpai again!)

She closed her eyes and her stomach growled.

Looks like just a rice ball hadn’t been enough lunch.

(Aaahhh, that’s embarrassing! In front of Setoguchi-senpai…!)

Hiyori blushed, holding her stomach.

“I have a discount coupon from a ramen place my brother gave me…” Hina fidgeted with her hands. “Would you like to go?”

(Setoguchi-senpai and ramen…!)

Hiyori’s face brightened.

“Yes, I want to go!”

“Then let’s change clothes.”

“Yes!” she answered happily, getting up from the bed and leaving the infirmary with Hina.

(I’ll turn into a heroine… starting from tomorrow!)

---

Aizou and Yuujirou were waiting for the manager’s car to arrive, as usual, when they saw Hiyori leaving through the main gate and discreetly followed her.

Seems like she didn’t have part-time work today. She was laughing and talking about ramen with another girl.

“That girl, what is she aiming for?”

“Well, isn’t she a strong girl?”

While they talked, the manager’s car appeared in front of them.

They laughed in unison and got into the car.

[a-spectacle-in-the-morning]

“Right in Front of You” -- Rafael Barba

Because I’m in the mood for some sweet stuff here’s a date with Barba that doesn’t go as anticipated, incredible street food, and Barba being the grumpy gentleman that he is.

Notes: This is a *sort of* follow up for this fic (not a necessary read for this one!) since people had very kind things to say about it despite all the grammar errors. Not that this is in any way free of grammar errors. Is this a weird jump in the relationship from the last one? Perhaps. Are you suddenly and inexplicably more sardonic in this one? Mhm. Did I give myself the time or have the energy amidst all my school work to fix these discrepancies? No, not really. In other words: apologies in advance.

--

It takes you a while to decide what to wear when you go out, and that decision is only worsened by the fact that your nights are usually unpredictable as a professional bar hopper. It’s a science, really. The block you start on, the weather, the friends you’re with; all factors. Tonight, however, you know exactly what to wear.  

Mostly because Barba sent you a very detailed itinerary for the evening. Dinner at a ridiculously expensive restaurant, Broadway show at six thirty, and home by ten. You both have work tomorrow and that means an early bedtime. After sorting through your pile of button-ups and dress pants there was really only one option.

It’s a gamble of an outfit and could easily be over the top, but it’s the most expensive thing you own. And if you’re being honest with yourself you’ve been hoping for an opportunity to wear it.  

Despite how incredible you look on the outside you’re a complete bundle of nerves on the inside. By the time Barba rings the doorbell to your apartment you feel like you’re going to throw up. Who takes a raincheck on drinks and turns it into dinner and a show? The kind of man that waits outside your building in a three-piece suit with flowers, apparently.  

“Hey,” you say, nodding your head towards his suit. “You look nice.”

“That was going to be my line,” he replies, standing a bit stiffly. He holds the flowers out for you to take.

“Thank you, sir.” You take the bouquet from him and press it up to your nose. “I’m a little afraid to ask how you knew that I like dahlias more than roses.”

Barba reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck as he says, “You just seem like a dahlia kind of person.”

“What? A little spiky but with beautiful and deep coloring?” you joke.

“Something like that,” he smiles and relaxes a bit.

“I’m gonna run these up and put them in a vase. Do we have enough time?”

“You’ve got five minutes,” he says, fiddling with his watch like he’s going to set a timer.

“I’ll be back in four,” you nearly yell over your shoulder as you rush back up to your building. “I ran cross country in high school!”

You’re back in seven and out of breath, but Rafael wasn’t really counting. He just grins when you return and the two of you begin the walk to the restaurant. When you get about a block away you start to worry.

“Is that a line for the place we’re going?”

“Probably, but I made a reservation weeks ago.”

So that’s why this date was so delayed.

When you get indoors Rafael goes up to the hostess and confidently says, “I have a reservation for two under Barba.”

The woman scrolls through her tablet and shakes her head. “Sorry, nothing under that name.”

Barba presses his brows together. “Oh, well, they should have been made around two weeks ago.”

She shakes her head again. “Sorry, sir. I don’t see anything here.”

He nods curtly and thanks her, turns, and leads you back outside by the small of your back. Once you’re on the sidewalk again he starts to rub at his right temple.

“I’m sorry. I thought I made the reservation. Damn it...”

He starts to mumble something about Carisi and intrusions so you grab both of his hands and squeeze.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens to everyone.”

When he nods his head but doesn’t respond you add, “That was nice of you not to badger the hostess. Harvard douchebags have a tendency to do that when things don’t go their way.”

He shakes his head at your quip. “I’ve worked plenty of part time jobs. I know not to be an asshole when someone doesn’t deserve it.”

“But you were an asshole to me the first time we met,” you shoot back.

“Exactly.”

“Hey! I was perfectly-”

“I know, I know. There's another place I’m thinking of, but it’s in the Bronx. We’ll have to take a cab.”

“Lead the way.”

In under half an hour you are once again following Barba’s lead as he swiftly presses through the streets. He walks like everyone you pass is trying to get in his way even though the foot traffic isn’t particularly bad tonight. The smell of garlic and spices suddenly overwhelms you and your stomach grumbles.

“I hope that smell is coming from wherever we’re going and I hope it’s close,” you whine a bit exaggeratedly.

He laughs. You’ve never heard Barba laugh enthusiastically. It’s kind of beautiful. “Right in front of you.” He points to a food cart across the street.  

La Kubanita, you read. There’s a short line, but nothing like the one from earlier.  

“How do you know about this place?” you ask, making some conversation as you wait.

“I grew up a few blocks from here. My mom would give me some money every once in a while and I would bring her back tamales.”

You give Barba a sideways glance. “I didn’t know you grew up in the Bronx.”

“Well, that’s because I didn’t tell you,” Barba says sardonically. “And nobody ever asks.”

“Rafa!”

Rafa?

“Dios mío,” Rafael mutters. “Cómo estás, Isabel?”

You look up a bit to the window of the truck to find an older woman absolutely beaming at Barba.

“Tú sabes que estoy bien. Quién es?” she asks, pointing in your direction. “Por fin conseguiste una cita?”

“Stop it Isa,” Rafael lightly scolds. “This is my coworker.”

“Alright,” she relents with a grin. “You want the usual?”

“Por favor,” Rafael responds.

You’re handed a couple take out boxes of warm food within minutes and you thank Isabel with a smile. You find a picnic table to sit at nearby and open the food to find three steaming hot and perfectly wrapped tamales.

As he opens his own box Barba says, “I’m not a huge fan of street food-”

“Shocking.”

Barba squints at you then continues, “But, I love this cart. I even brought some of their arroz con pollo home to my abuela once and she gave it her stamp of approval.”

“Alright, that is really high praise. I don’t think my grandma has approved of anything I have ever cooked or bought her. Or really anything I’ve ever done. You should have seen her face when I told her I wanted to work in law enforc-”

“We can unpack that later,” Barba interrupts, “but right now you’re going to stop thinking about your problems and try that tamale in front of you.”

You throw him a look, but pick up your fork and dig in. It is, undoubtedly, the best tamale you’ve ever had.  

“You win this round, Barba,” you concede between bites.

He looks up from his food. “I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”

“It’s always a game with you.”

“Is it?”

You pause, trying to decide if you want to maintain your nonchalance or admit something a little more personal. Fuck it.

“You’re tough to keep up with sometimes. Everything is in order. No nonsense. You’re effortlessly and brutally sarcastic- which is very sexy, by the way. Every conversation is a mini battle. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just new. I’m not used to guys like you.”

You hold his gaze for a second longer, then busy yourself with unwrapping your second tamale.  

“Very sexy, hm?”

You snap your eyes back up to him to catch his shit-eating grin. “Really? That’s what you picked out of that?”

His smile somehow grows, and you can’t help the one spreading on your own face.  

“You should know after today that I don’t have it all put together,” he says, going back to his meal.

You gently kick one of his feet under the table. “Yeah, I finally have some proof that you’re human.”

“Aside from the fact that I’m fueled entirely by coffee like the rest of you?”

“Yes,” you nod in agreement. “Aside from the coffee.”

The two of you finish your meal while making casual conversation. When Rafael returns from throwing the garbage out he stops to look at his watch.

“It’ll take us about 30 minutes in this traffic to get back to Manhattan. We should probably head out. Are you ready to go?”

“Damn. I was just starting to get comfortable being totally, inappropriately overdressed. Maybe we should just skip the show.”

Barba rolls his eyes but holds out his arm for you to take. “I’ll leave you here if that’s what you want. I’m not missing Anastasia.”

You laugh, taking his arm and walking out towards the street to hail a taxi. As you wait you notice the sun is beginning to set and is casting the loveliest shade of yellow over everything. You catch Barba looking at you with an entirely contented expression and a slight smile ghosting his lips.  

That look alone is better than all the whiskey in the world.  

--

Here’s the thing folks, I haven’t written anything in Spanish in probably three or more years. I know there have got to be mistakes. I apologize. Blame my senior year Spanish teacher for making us watch soap operas more often than actually teaching us anything. And the name of the food cart is borrowed from a real Cuban food cart that I have never been to. I wasn’t creative enough to think of my own.  

Hopefully this was a decent follow up for “Woeful Wins and Whiskey”. I’m trying to get more confident with writing Barba. Trying being the key word. I’m always happy to read feedback, comments, and criticisms. And if anyone wants a third part let me know! I’m thinking more shenanigans with the SVU, maybe some struggles with defining the relationship..... 

[flatfootmonster]

Running Past Empty

(read on A03 here)

Red seeps into my sweater. I didn’t even have time to use my newly honed anger because whoever ran into me, and spilt whatever this is, is long gone. I can’t even see the cup they must’ve been carrying. Whatever it is, it’s sticky. But it can wait. It has to wait. Voices and horns build to an overwhelming chorus behind me but it’s dampened by a fog that I summoned. I can’t focus on noise right now; I have to cross the road. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Are you OK?” One of the voices is a panicked buzz in my ear—and too close. Much too close. I feel sick. “Jesus.” That sound hisses between teeth; steam escaping a kettle that boiled too long.

“I’m fine, I need to go,” my words are thick, stammered through numb lips. Sangwoo was just there. I can catch up with him. He’ll probably scoff over the state of my sweater, say that I’m a baby that needs looking after. I don’t mind when he teases though. 

A shackle attaches itself to my arm. “You’ll stay there.” The buzzy-buzzy bee is persistent. I think I hate it.

There’s no time to look at whoever this fuck is that won’t listen, and I won’t reply either. I pull away with so much force his hand might’ve come clean off because his grip is still there as I leave him behind. When did I get so strong? I’m moving now, that’s all that matters. I’m moving fast and it’s OK. The bee follows though, like the memory of the hand, but the fog cuts in front of those sensations. I’m blocking them out because I have somewhere to be. 

My feet beat the pavement, each step smooth and measured. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this coordinated before. It’s because of Sangwoo, I’m sure of it. He gave me things; I can shout now, and I can pull away, I can run. He never said it would hurt though. Pain jolts up my legs—a familiar hurt but this time it spreads, it bleeds from bone to vein to nerve ending. When I find him I’ll rest, and catch my breath, too. Lungs shouldn’t be so difficult to inflate. Maybe I need more exercise. That’s probably it. Does he play sports? I should know that. 

Skidding to a jittery halt, I take a second to find my bearings. It’s no surprise the buildings that tower over my head are unrecognisable. They choke out the sky with dirty fingers of brick. I get disorientated a lot, you see. Plus, I was running towards the point I last saw him rather than pay attention to this road or that. Yet he seems to slip around the next corner when I think I’m gaining ground, the only thing I catch is a glimpse and even that is on the peripheral—right on the edge of the earth. Can’t he hear me? I’ve been shouting, haven’t I? Maybe this is a game.

“Did you call them?” Someone snaps those words out and they snatch my attention. I turn to find a mother looking down at a child. He’s holding skis. That seems odd but what business is it of mine what a stranger chooses to carry around? He used to carry me around a lot—Sangwoo did—and no one said anything about that. “Did you?” she presses, fear in place of impatience. What is she scared of? The shadows the buildings cast make their faces dark, features as indistinguishable and ruddy as the bricks. I can’t even see which direction their blackened eyes are pointing.

“Yes, yes. I did. I can’t make them get here any faster,” the kid replies but the voice belongs to the bee—it’s still stuck in my ear. When I blink their faces are pressed to mine, breath hot and sickening as their words decompose in their mouths. But there’s still no detail. The expanse where their features should be is pale, cold, and blank—a human-sized dead worm. I don’t want to look at them. My stomach squeals as my heart thuds once against my ribs in protest and they’re back in the shadows, merging with the buildings, voices melting and flowing into the cement that links brick to brick to brick. They are inconsequential—irrelevant to life; dead worms wriggling back into ashy soil.

If I stopped to catch my breath maybe they’d come back into focus, I'd find detail and explanation, and perhaps the buzzing would subside. I could maybe help with whoever it is they need to call—or mediate their disagreement. But I don’t want their faces so close to mine or their breath misting my vision—I have to go. Time is running out. It’s ticking away, it itches beneath my skin. 

It’s a narrow alley next, I chose it simply because this way avoids streets and voices and worms and bees. There’s only one voice that I’m looking for—I’m desperate for it because I’m drowning and it’s a diving bell; I need it to get to where I’m going. 

A man stands in a cobwebbed archway, phone pressed to his ear while glasses slide down a greasy, porous nose. He mutters, again and again, the same thing, “keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing.” His eyes don’t focus, they skitter this way and that like a spider, roaming the scratched wood behind him and the grey concrete beneath him. His face is grey, too, and when his eight-legged eyes find me the greyness spills over him. He’s a statue now and I’m glad because his gaze crept and crawled along my skin, his voice was needle scratching vinyl. A broken record. A broken, tired, useless record. Does he even understand what the fuck he’s saying? I know I don’t. It’s nonsense.

The narrow walls give way to a square but it’s empty, all I can hear is an alarm coming from somewhere—everywhere. It echoes from concrete planes the same way it bounces around the walls of my skull. Ignoring it is as simple and irritating as muting the agony throbbing in my veins. I still don’t recognise where I am. Slowing, the pain embeds itself deeply in bone, my marrow vibrates with every serrated inhale. Razors are in my lungs trying to cut their way out, climbing up my throat; the scores they gouge ooze with frigid sap. 

There’s a stand. It was empty before, I’m sure of it, but this won’t be the first time I’m wrong. It’s a cake stand, too far away to make out details past that. There’s a girl, standing with her back to me. Something about her stance is familiar but memories are on the other side of the fog, I can reach them if I want yet I have no desire to. She���s fumbling around in her pockets frantically. Behind the counter, there’s a blank slate of a man and one red round cake sat between them. He holds a bag of white icing in his left hand.

“His name? What’s his name? Isn’t there any ID?” 

“I couldn’t find any. There’s nothing,” her voice is the bees' voice as well. Too low to be authentically hers, it’s familiar but not in the same way her stance is. It should be odd, and it is, but I’m used to slipping and sliding around the wet tiled surfaces of reality. I’m used to things not making sense. And I’m used to being solely focussed on one thing so that it didn’t matter how reality is consumed by my abstract senses.

The man sighs, looks down at the cake before addressing it mournfully. “OK sweetheart, it’s going to be OK. Hold on,” he reassures the sticky, red surface beneath his bulbous nose. I suppose it’ll stay unnamed unless they’re going to write sweetheart on the top. Why doesn’t she know the name of the person she’s buying a cake for? And why is the bee still stuck in my fucking head? 

My body jump starts, every atom eager to move. I lurch forward, transitioning into an easy run, eating up the ground in long strides. Between the waves of discomfort and crushing loneliness pressing down on my sternum, I feel fluid and capable. My form flows and slips, if I just trust in the magnetism pulling at me I’ll find the sensation of belonging that my atoms are begging for. I’ll slip down the right cracks when I find it; I’ll write the correct letters; I’ll outrun the concrete.

I need to catch up with him. There was something off—for days and days it was off. I did something, or he did, and I can’t unpick it. I don’t know where the stitching went wrong to unthread and rework. If I catch him I can, I’m sure. If he just listens… 

I promised, you see. Wait. What did I promise? No—that’s a stupid question; It doesn’t matter if my brain cells can’t recall because my body seems to be making up for that ignorance. 

A wall towers above the building in front of me. It doesn’t seem to be a part of its surroundings; there’s no adjoining structure or roof to give it relevance within this rigid environment. It’s a misfit—I can relate. There’s only one thing that marks it useful. Up top, an old advertisement is plastered down with crumbling, infertile glue. Its corners are peeling, weather-worn, dull, and barely discernible. But I can make out a pair of bulbous eyes in a green face—I see a squat animal. There’s my compass. I’ve found my bearings.

An alarm’s going off again. It’s different somehow, in the way one hymn is different from another but when you’re outside the church—when you’re skulking around in the graveyard—it simply sounds like another incessant drone. I cover my ears, it needs to be blocked out. It can’t dictate my route. But it’s loud. I don’t like it, and—just like the composting heat of the stranger’s breath and the stinging, grabbing bee—I don’t want it. 

My skin prickles under the scratching hands of ticking minutes and seconds, counted out by a silent omnipotent force, pressing down on my sternum. My surface area needs to be peeled off because it burns. Everything is so fucking distracting. If my lungs were working like normal I’d sigh as all those things dull once more; the fog is back. It looks more like a veil now—cascading and shimmering in its divisive nature.

I round a corner where those spherical eyes were beckoning. This area is flattened. A building was demolished here and all that’s left is gravel, dust, and rocks. The debris forces its way into my mouth and fills my throat; I am the ground—desiccated and ruined. But I’m not sad because this is where I’m supposed to be, it’s how I’m supposed to be. I’m sure of it. 

But how do I find belonging?

There’s a new sound, a beeping when my lazy heart thuds against my rib cage. Maybe it’s a timer about to go off, but if it does go off and I don’t find him, then what? I can’t let that happen. He’ll be gone. Gone forever. I’m losing time, running on empty.

My gaze devours the gravelly tarmac and the bare walls, desperate for the merest taste of a clue. It’s just dust, everywhere is dust and nothing—like me. Where do I go? There should be an opening somewhere, maybe on the floor, steps leading down. There’s nothing though. There’s only stillness but I swear I hear him, his voice saying my name, muffled like he’s hiding in this silly game we’re playing without rules. He’s the childish one.

The wall. 

In the centre of the ruins, where the frog sits on top, there’s an old bricked up doorway. It’s the only entrance—or exit—and I can’t go back the way I came. I just can’t. 

Bum. 

There! It’s not a bee. It’s him. And now I know. 

Logic slips away, just like that mother and child did, as I run at the wall and throw all my strength at it. The barrier punches right back, sending me flying away from the threshold. The floor hits, if there was any air inside of my body I’d be winded. Hesitation doesn’t weigh my mass down so I scramble to my feet and run towards that same spot. Those nondescript breeze-blocks will give way, they don’t know how strong I am now but I do. I’ll prove it. 

My chest bursts again. The beeping stopped—the timer is done. In its place there are footfalls, bouncing from the concrete behind me, voices reverberate and buzz—a stampede of chaos that I’m trying with every last molecule to outrun. I never did understand it and now I don’t have time to learn. I don’t want to understand, not anymore.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” 

Bum! 

He’s here. He’s waiting for me.

“Stay with us.”

Maybe the statue came to life or the child became solid again, maybe it’s the girl with the cake or the man selling it. Maybe it’s all of them. I don’t want them, I don’t need any single one of them— 

This time the explosion makes everything reverberate, the ground shudders beneath my feet as buildings sway in a sickening dance. Brick fingers are pushing into the sky, choking the sun. Cracks appear between the bricks and there’s light there—on the other side. I will do it, they won’t catch me. They can’t catch me. 

The light says this is my last chance.

When I collide on the final assault my lungs tear themselves apart under the force of a silent scream. It’s been clawing at my throat, dying to be freed. It sets fire to salted rivulets the razors made before heat surges to a flashpoint. I’m turning inside-out. My burnt skin is splitting, the marrow is lava. The air in my ruined chest is ash. 

I’m combusting but no concrete punch lands; the floor doesn’t hit my back;

Four, twenty-eight PM, the fifth of the eighth. 

Water sloshes manically, slopping against a surface it found to break the cascade. It’s cold—the water is, and so is the air pouring down my throat. Haggard breaths send ripples across the crystalline surface, it’s the first thing to break through static-filled vision, pale and unblemished skin is the second. Everything is bright—pure.

“Bum?!”

Sight recovering, my gaze devours mint green tiles. I can’t grasp why it feels so desperate; notions and memories of panic and pain are slipping away like sand through my fingers. A squat green shape, two bulbous eyes staring at me from the sink, becomes the focal point as the black and white dots fade. It’s a ceramic frog, two toothbrushes and a half squeezed out tube of toothpaste sticking out from its back. It’s clean and simple, a faint smell of genuine pine lingers underneath the tang of generic shower products. Nothing is out of the ordinary, everything is exactly as it should be, so why does it feel like I’ve been pulled inside-out? Or maybe outside-in. 

“Bum! Where are you?”

He’s calling—that’s all that matters. That fact didn’t change in whatever seismic shift occurred. “Sangwoo?” My voice trembles, lips and tongue feeling as unpractised as an infant’s, but it doesn’t hurt to speak. Why would it hurt? 

If the water is cool, it’s nothing compared to the tide of relief that pulls me under, leaving my skin tingling and the fine hair on my body upright when he bursts into the bathroom. Why would I be relieved? He’s always here. We’re never far away from each other, people gossip over how inseparable we are. 

His face. I can see his face. It’s close to mine as he kneels, breath warm on my pebbled skin but it doesn’t twist my gut. There was something nauseating in that dream.

“I’ve been calling you for… for I don’t know how long. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. It was silly to worry. But I’m sure I checked here…” he stops, bowing until his forehead is pressed to my shoulder and huffs a laugh. He shakes his head, the imbalance of understanding that we’re sharing is echoed in a weak laugh.

And, powerless to the forces that move me, I reach for him—we’re magnets, we can’t be anything else. “I promised,” the sentiment tastes familiar, spawned from the crumb of a memory that slips beyond reason. What did I promise? Worry ebbs away and nerves soften because he feels right: skin clear, hair soft, and his heartbeat is so strong—like it usually is, like the rest of him. But maybe the vehemence in his grip says he understands the words, that somehow, in the hangover of an abstract dreamscape, it made sense to him. If anyone was going to understand the things I say that I don’t even comprehend it would be him. It’s always been him. 

“I think maybe it was a bad dream,” he sighs.

“Me too. Maybe we were stuck in a nightmare together.”

He looks up, the troubled tightness in his face melting away and leaving only easy, weather-worn memories in their place. “Like when we were kids?” 

Humming, I stroke through his hair. I’ve sat here long enough for my fingertips to wrinkle. The darkness seems vague, another era—another universe entirely. Yet, at the same time, it lingers over my shoulder, hidden only by a veil. The urge to look behind is dwindling, just like any solid dream fragments I could share. What does it matter anyway? “I think I spilt something on myself but—” I stop and frown at the floor. Apart from the small puddles of water, it’s clear. “I don’t know where my clothes are.” 

His mirth turns rueful. “Probably kicked them off somewhere that I’ll find later. Cmon, the dryer just stopped, you can put something fresh on.”

I try to sit but my muscles are infantile, too. “Whatever that dream was, it zapped my energy,” I sigh. Even my lungs are exhausted.

He shakes his head, fingers dipping into the tub. “It’s cold. How long have you been sitting here?” he tsks the question to a close. We look after each other, it’s just what we do. “You’re gonna freeze if you stay here any longer—and it’s dangerous to sleep in the bath,” he tuts again as one arm slides around my shoulders, the other beneath my knees. 

I’m not given time to disagree but I try anyway. “You don’t have to—“ 

“Shush. You’ve done this enough times for me—well, for the five minutes you were bigger than me anyway.” He grins down while plucking my mass from the water with casual ease. Contrary to my words, I soften against him. We have different strengths that we lend each other, you see. It’s always been that way. I know that. I remember. 

The journey is a quiet ceremony; we migrate from one room to another before I’m eased into a kitchen chair, wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. The clothes are still warm, Sangwoo stays centred and focused as he helps me dress. I’m quite capable of doing it myself, just like I could have walked here on my own two feet, but he’s persistent. There is always a dire plea in his eyes when he silently lends his hands to whatever task needs doing, and it’s fulfilled with a gentle touch and stern focus. It feels like repentance or supplication, and so earnest that I can never fight it. 

He’s always been determined, since the day we first met. Gripping tight to my sleeve, Sangwoo wailed until my mum came to investigate and forged an alliance with his mum. The rest is history. He can’t possibly remember that day but that doesn’t stop him from swearing otherwise—says he knew we were soulmates and that it was a matter of life or death to hold on with stubby, sticky fingers. After all this time I’m schooled to the silly, sweet things he says, letting them be without anything more than a grin and a shake of my head. Yet there’s something shiny about that memory. It shimmers in the ancient light of a summer evening and, for whatever reason, I forgot about its existence; slept too long and lost track of identity and time and place. Seeing it there, reflecting true warmth, drapes a comfort blanket over my consciousness; I want to bask in our history.

Those same fingers that gripped my sleeve back then now drag a sock up my calf, but they possess a few decades of knowledge beneath their fingerprints—they are no long stubby or sticky but calm, attentive, and skilled. He smoothes the wool flat and tugs at the seam over my toes to make sure it sits perfectly. 

“Do you wanna listen to something?” His movements effortless, Sangwoo turns to the fridge and items are taken out and placed on the countertop: eggs, milk, butter, a bar of chocolate—flour and sugar joins them from the cupboard. I’m transfixed by every last detail and action, every syllable that falls from his lips without it being translated within the confines of my upside-down skull. My body is righting myself and so I’m simply happy to sit here, snug in warm, fresh clothes and absorb. “Maybe the tape you made last week, or—I don’t know. Which one is your favourite today?” There’s a note in his words that proclaims years of experience when it comes to my quickly evolving, and perhaps fickle, favourites. And, of course, there would be. 

There’s no radio up here, we’re too far out to get signal, and so when we go to the lake to fish or swim we take the old cassette radio with us. A blank tape will be ready in the cassette slot to record songs as they’re aired. We have a kitchen drawer full of compilations, Sangwoo’s precise scrawl can be found on the case of each to note the date and song list. His methodical ideology doesn’t just stop at me, there’s notebook after notebook of days gone by filling shelves around this small home. Moments are recorded in detail as if to prove our existence in this world; we are here in this universe and this story will be left. It never fails to cast a spell of enchantment over everything. 

“Bum?” Feet planted before mine and a crease between his brows, he’s observing me. “You’re spacing out,” he mutters before pressings a palm to my forehead, “but you don’t have a fever. Do you need some fresh air?” 

I think he’s right. Air sounds good. I like the air where we live—it tastes freshly baked as opposed to the staleness lingering everywhere else in the world. “OK.” He weighs me up with his measuring gaze when I get to my feet but there’s no reason to worry, strength is restoring itself and even the memory of pain is unintelligible now. “I’m OK.”

“I’ll bring you some tea.” With that, he’s back to whatever it is that’s being conjured, and I’m trusted to get on with my own job—as simple as it is. A kettle full of water is placed on the stove while I retrace the path he made carrying me in his arms. 

Just past the bathroom is the front door. I say door but it’s mostly window; two large panels that make up top and bottom of the portal are crystal clear. It’s flanked by massive windows, too, because why wouldn’t it be that way up here? Where a panelled wall is required you have it, but if there’s any chance to capture a living portrait you do just that. 

Wood clanks against wood, the door swings shut as I venture out onto the porch. That sensation of experiencing something for the first time settles again, like a dewy web, yet it’s not discomforting. It doesn’t spark curiosity either because I’ve known since we came here that I’ll never get tired of the stretch of cosmos that wraps itself around these stone walls. It stretches this way and that. Green trees that sway in the breeze, dancing to a silent tune, build behind the house, rising to lofty peaks. There’s a handful of hiking routes that wind their way up there. Before me, the pines subside and flow towards the lake. The body of water below glints and shimmers; a mesmerising world of fluid secrets. The amber-blue sky stretches on forever, when the sun sets its understudy arrives and millions of diamonds provide a twilit reverie. Every day is like the first, and at the same time utterly unique. The secrets whispered are always slightly different, the shapes the stars make are always evolving.

This place might not seem much to some, or most for that matter, but it’s everything to me. Eyebrows tend to rise when people know we live together out here, like a couple of hermits, but we’re beyond caring about the thoughts or assumptions they paint. There were times we tried to be apart, building independent lives, but things would spiral into chaos and confusion; bad things ultimately happened. It was never worth the discomfort of trying to squeeze ourselves into empty slots in a puzzle when we never came from the same box in the first place. We found this peace right here, our belonging, and it really doesn’t matter what the world outside thinks.

Besides, we’re not hurting anyone. 

“Here.” I didn’t hear the door open and neither do I flinch with his apparition.

My gaze shifts from lush, green leaves to earthy, rich irises. The pleasure found there is fertile enough to coax a smile. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, and why shouldn’t it be? The mug offered is steaming—chamomile by the smell of it, probably with a little too much honey. 

“Thank you.” It’s sighed while I inhale the scent and let it wrap around me along with every other element within reach that’s whole and perfect. 

“And there’s that smile,” he coos the gentle tease. I’ve always loved the way he teases. His humour is mildly provocative but it soothes instead of stinging, the worst side effect being blushes. It makes up for my quiet demeanour and—if anything—he preens under the laughter that always comes easily from his audience of one. Sometimes my rare sarcasm trips him up, too—it’s served extremely dry. I have to admit a hunger in my gut is fed when his knees buckle under unforeseen hysterics. “You look much better,” he adds, expression mirroring the one he just shone a spotlight on. 

“I feel much better.” To prove the point to myself, my toes wiggle within their thick, woollen confines. Everything feels as it should again—better than it should. Energy coils itself deep in muscle and bone, eager to spring into action. Reaching out, I sate that desire. My fingers brush against his cheek while a pinprick of panic plucks at my imagination over what I’ll find. There was no need to worry, there’s nothing other than him. Past the stubble, he’s warm and smooth—soft even. Most wouldn’t attach that adjective to Sangwoo but, then again, no one knows him as I do.

He sighs, his eyes close, his head tilts into my touch. Yes, he is soft. 

“I’m glad.” Hand finding mine, Sangwoo’s grip weaves  around my fingers until they are entwined with his. There’s a ring he wears, a gift from me. It’s never been removed no matter what graft is demanded. There should be no surprise in seeing it where it belongs. “If you stay out here too long you might catch a cold.” To highlight the gently presented advice, and with an added chuckle, he ruffles my damp hair. “At least get dry first if you want to take a walk.” A light kiss is pressed to my forehead; a full stop for his nurturing thought. I bookmark the moment, recording every last atom vibrating around and within. I’ll return to this page—over and over and over. I just know it. “I have a cake to make,” he adds, taking a step back. A new spark of enticement kindles in his gaze, hoping that he’ll provoke some curiosity—or at the least hunger. 

Where I know him well, he matches that—step for step, word for word, breath for breath. 

“Cake? What kind of cake?” I can’t hide the eager giddiness in my voice, I wouldn’t attempt to either.

“Chocolate.”

My stomach rumbles on cue. “What’s the occasion?” Honestly, I don’t care, I’m already fantasising about the dessert induced coma I’ll fall into later, regardless of the reasoning behind it. Sangwoo is a magician in many things and baking is one of them.

A casual shrug is offered as a response before words follow. “It just felt like a cake kinda day.” Taking another step backwards, he’s halfway over the threshold. “If you’re around in about twenty minutes there’ll be a bowl and spoon to lick clean.” There’s another grin, full of mischief, and eyebrows that quirk before he disappears back into the warmth of our home. 

I’m caught up in the sweetest quandary. My legs long to pace earth and my fingers ache to touch pine, but the cosmos isn’t going anywhere right now… whereas that bowl and spoon might. 

His argument is compelling; Sangwoo knows my weaknesses. But we’ve never truly needed anything to persuade ourselves or convince the other. Nothing binds us here aside from free will, shone and reflected back in equal measures. He is me and I am him. We can’t breathe alone. 

[dreamiehrs]

6:19 pm \ requested by this anon <3

a few months ago, if anybody had asked you if you believed in soulmates, your answer would be a solid no. you thought the idea of them was ridiculous. why would people rely on a puny mark to determine the person they would spend the rest of their life with? it wasn’t like you didn’t have a mark, however, as the black digits on your forearm have been counting down the years, days, hours, and minutes until you meet your soulmate.

you never really kept track of it, just covering it up with every chance you got so you could eventually forget it was there. nonetheless, you would always get a glimpse of it whenever your sleeve rolled up, or someone would accidentally touch the skin surrounding the mark. it burned whenever someone who wasn’t your soulmate grazed it, or so the legend says, and when your soulmate’s fingers supposedly came to grip the skin around it, that area would feel renewed and replenished, like you shed off the old layer and regrew it in a matter of seconds.

however, you still thought all of this nonsense was bull until you had confided in a particularly handsome guy who was worried about your safety after you had found yourself in a karaoke bar.

“how many and how― woah, are you okay, miss?” he almost yelps as you stumble to where he was standing. you just give him a lazy smile as he scanned your appearance: hair messy, velvet red dress crinkled, and heels almost broken. you were definitely out to have fun tonight, he had gathered from your wild appearance and how you were practically leaning most of your upper body on the counter in front of him.

he blinked, not entirely knowing what to do when you started walking towards the hallway that contained all of the karaoke rooms. after a few seconds, he made the decision to trail after you, for your safety, of course. you stumble a little on nothing and jeno’s reflexes were quick as he moved to the direction you almost fell in until you gather yourself, open a door on your left, and walk into the room.

jeno raises an eyebrow as he continues to follow you, the flashing, colorful lights of the room made him want to puke, but he was more concerned about you at the moment. when he peeks his head in, he sees you slouched down on one of the padded booth chairs in there, your glossy eyes zoning out on the tv screen a few feet away from you.

he settles down beside you, and it’s quiet for a few minutes until you decide to open your mouth. “my stupid friends... they thought that that guy that was eyeing me at the party was my soulmate! hah, as soulmates even exist! after all that, I just want to live peacefully with my cat and say f soulmates for now!” you rant, meeting his shocked, dark eyes as they stare at you and your outburst.

“that’s unfortunate, miss... uhm, is there anything I can do to help? would you like a ride home? I can call a cab.” he digs through his pocket and retrieves his phone, it lights up with a few messages from his childhood friend renjun, but he ignores it until he sees the word ‘party’ in the message his friend sent.

“don’t bother, I can get home perfectly fine, see?” you proclaim, standing up quickly to fall back down on the seat again a few seconds later. jeno sighs as he helps you up, your stubbornness shining through as you refuse to be helped up. he’s patient with you, though, and after ten minutes of convincing you that he isn’t going to harm you, you reluctantly allow him to place your arm over his shoulder, guiding you to the front door of the karaoke bar.

he gets a glimpse of the digits on your forearm, to see that they had all reached zero. panic started to arise in his head, but he then considered the fact that you probably had been out partying, so maybe you could’ve seen your soulmate there. he was too afraid to point it out to your drunk self, so instead, he said: “miss, I think your cab is here. I’ll walk you out to it, okay?”

“mmhm...” you mutter and nod, allowing him to walk you out to your cab and sitting you in the back. he tells the driver your address (which you had told him loudly from before) and gives him a ten. he had made sure to give him a little extra so the driver would get you home safely, and had snuck his phone number in your hand in case you had gotten into trouble.

as the car starts to roll forward, jeno waves goodbye to you and you do the same, before your cab is no longer in his line of sight. he sluggishly walks back into the karaoke bar, the excitement from the moment you had stumbled in fading as he goes back to working for the next few hours. he tries not to let his mind wander to the possibility of you two being soulmates, but he waves that out of his mind as he convinces himself that it’s too soon for him to be discovering his soulmate.

however, he was wrong as he checked the digits on his forearm, the same as yours, to see that they were down to zero. they definitely weren’t like that a few hours ago, he thought. the digits slowly started to form into an image, molding themselves into all of these different shapes until finally, it was revealed to be a pair of heels on his forearm, one broken.

“n-no way... she can’t be my soulmate...” he mutters but is snapped out of his thought process when the door jingles, a couple walking in. he goes back to job mode and pushes the discovery to the back of his head. this can’t be happening, he thought, it can’t be you.

you were oblivious to all of this as you jumped in your bed, still in your clothes from earlier that night as you fall peacefully asleep. the next morning, though, you almost scream when you see that your timer had transformed into a sparkly microphone.

“w-what’s happening? did I meet my soulmate last night? what even happened last night?” you search through your memories, faintly remembering that you had stumbled upon a karaoke bar last night. “shit... is he my soulmate?” you scramble to your phone, inputting his number that you had found earlier this morning clutched in your hand.

“we need to talk,” you say once he answers, not giving him a chance to speak as you continue. “about last night. d-did your timer... uh, change into something else, by any chance?”

he pauses, making your pulse skyrocket the longer he takes to answer your question. “yeah... did yours?”

you laugh at the memory now, jeno sending you a quizzical look as his arms wrap around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before sighing contentedly. “we were so naive back then...”

“when we met for the first time?” he inquired and you nodded.

“the phone call we had the next morning was hysterical. we practically didn’t know what to do with ourselves. after that, everything flowed easily between both of us.” you reminiscence the dates you two had gone on after that call, one of them involving you two volunteering to play with the pets at the humane society that was a block away from your apartment.

“and to think you didn’t believe in soulmates! guess I influenced that dramatic change, huh y/n?” he tightens his hold on you for a second, sending goosebumps down your arms as he plants another kiss on your temple this time.

“yes, you changed my beliefs, jeno, and for the better.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Loki by another name... (Loki x ofc)

Hello! For @just-the-hiddles​ 1k celebration, I bring for you today a Loki x ofc with no warnings. Rated Teen. 

A Loki by Another Name....

Audrey giggled to herself, kicking up a pile of leaves as she made her way toward her apartment. The cool fall air kissed her cheeks and gave her breath a hint of winter fog. She was coming home from her sixth date with Luke and everything felt like a teenage dream. He was the handsome mythology teacher who had recently joined the high school. He had seemed to come out of nowhere, blowing into town with his slick dark waves and smart suits.  

He captivated her the moment she saw him. When he asked her to dinner a few weeks before the start of the school year, she jumped on the chance. It wasn’t something she could explain but she was so pleased to be noticed by him. One date lead to a second and somehow, they ended up a couple just in time for the beginning of the school year.  

Or, she assumed that was what they were. It wasn’t a conversation they had officially had. But he walked her through the school halls, holding her hand for all to see. Teenagers were brutal and you didn’t do that unless you were real, right? It was a conversation she knew she need to have with him but it could wait.  

Today had been too perfect to mar it with such a serious talk. They had spent the afternoon holed up together in her classroom, grading papers over tea. Once the mountain was concurred, he had treated her out to dinner in the nicest place in town as if it were nothing.  

After a parting kiss, she was left walking through the night on cloud nine. It was safe enough that she didn't give it any thought. Still, when she turned to look behind her, Luke was standing there on the sidewalk in the distance watching her walk away. He'd offered to walk her home, he always did but it was only a few blocks, almost a straight shot. He lived a few blocks in the other direction, it was silly to walk all the way down here only to turn around and walk back.  

Over dinner, they had planned to spend Halloween together. It was his idea and judging by the things he had planned for them to do, he had taken his plans straight from a teenage girl's dream. Audrey was beyond excited for it. Hay rides, apple picking, pumpkin patches, it would be perfect. There was no way it could even begin to go sideways.  

~~~~~<3

“You mean to tell me Loki is alive and on Earth?” Thor looked sheepishly down at the reflective surface of the polished metal tabletop as Tony raged at him. “You didn’t think to mention that, Point Break, when you found out? He’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been watching him.” Thor offered.

“How? You don’t even know where he is!"

How long has he been on earth, do you know?" Banner asked from where he stood, not paying attention to much going on in the room. His attention was more focused on the matter at hand, a device made of magic and technology, woven together and ticking down seconds. What would happen when the timer reached zero, they didn't know. But it was probably a bad thing. It seemed to always be a bad thing.

“There haven’t been any issues, have there?” Thor offered as if that was a good enough excuse and in his mind, it was. Humans were such short sighted creatures.

“We need to find him, now.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I agree. He would be of great assistance. He is one of Asagrd’s most skilled in the magical arts. Mother taught him herself.”

Another set of eyes on this would be good." The others ignored Banner's input but he didn't notice, too busy turning the problem over in front of him, trying to find the solution.

“Or maybe we need to find him before he decides he’s having a bad day and needs to take over the world again.” Tony snapped.  

“There were reasons for that- I’m sure.” Thor pressed.  

“Like what?” Tony didn’t leave him a chance to answer before turning and setting his attention to the computer. All he needed to do was set a facial recognition program and have Friday scan all the security film in the world and if he was lucky, Loki would be on it. How hard could it be to find one rogue god?

~~~~~<3

Audrey was early as she made her way up the steps. The air around her was crisp and but her black pea coat kept her warm enough for now. In a few short weeks, it would be too cold for the stylish coat and it would be replaced with one that would make her resemble a blueberry. The cafe they were to meet at was a small local shop, like most shops in town. Her hair was curled into a bouncing tumble of waves and she had spent far more time on her makeup than normal.  

Luke was inside, black waves caressing his shoulders from a recent trim. He greeted her with a coffee in hand and a warm hug. Before she knew it, off they went. What they didn’t see was the people sitting spread out in the restaurant across the street watching them.  

As the couple walked down the sidewalk, the group of people made subtle work of gathering outside. They stood on the sidewalk, some pretending to look at a tourist book while others looked after the couple walking in the distance. They didn't expect to find Loki laughing with a women, fingers intertwined.

“That was rather unexpected.” Tony broke the silence as the others agreed. "Let's go get him before something has a chance to go wrong."

Let's observe for now. She is going willingly enough with him and it looks almost as if my brother is courting her." Thor offered, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing any more attention to their group.

So he has more time to hurt her?" Tony scoffed.

Stark, I'm well aware of my brother's past sins. But this has nothing to do with your issues." Thor scolded, putting the issue at rest for the time being.

~~~~~<3

“I had a lot of fun today.” Audrey broke the silence as she looked down at their hands, fingers intertwined. They’d been walking back through the town for a bit. The moon was high and the chill in the air had much more of a bite to it.

“As did I.” Luke agreed, glancing down at her, taking in her thin pea coat and red cheeks. “Are you chilled?”  

“Oh, I’m fine.” She lied.  

“Nonsense.” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth soaked into her. “What would the students say if I let their favorite English teacher come down with a cold?”  

“Oh yes, we can’t have that. That would ruin your reputation.” She laughed, drawing a chuckle from the man she knew as Luke.  

“Time to stop playing house, Reindeer Games. Step away from the girl and come quietly.” A group of people stepped up to them. She recognized the man speaking as Tony Stark and the larger man as Thor.  

“I beg your pardon?” Luke scoffed, eyebrow raised.  

“I think you’ve got him confused with someone else.” Audrey offered, confused herself as Luke pulled her behind him.  

“My apologies, milady but we need a moment with Loki.” Thor offered. Luke's frame was stiff and tense as she held onto his hand still.  

“Luke?”

“Loki.” Tony corrected her.

“Is that true?” She pulled her fingers from his.  

“Yes. Audrey, let me-”

“You lied to me.”

“We don’t really have time for this.” Tony said but was ignored.  

“Why?” She demanded, stepping out to his side. She didn't show any fear of him, though perhaps she should have. “What was this? What was tonight? Just a game?”

“No-” She cut him off.  

“I cared for you. Does that matter at all or was it all for your entertainment while you, what? Killed time waiting for the Avengers to find you and take you away?”

Tony moved to step up, say something but Thor rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let them sort this out. It can wait for a bit longer. Let’s give them a moment.”  

She hardly registered the team walking a bit down the street. Loki reached out for her but she took a harsh step away. He decided right then that he would not do this with her now, in front of the eyes of Thor and his friends.  

She stepped away harshly, doing her best to yank her arm out of his reach. He was faster by far and his strong hand pulled her back to him. “Get away from-”  

His arm circled around her abdomen as her momentum carried her to him. She tripped over her own feet and crashed against his chest. Gray clouds burst forth and swallowed them before winking out as suddenly as they came. When the team looked back to check on the commotion, they found the sidewalk empty.  

At no point did she feel fear of him. It was hard to fear a man she had spent so much time getting to know. This wasn't the first time she was alone with him. He didn't look any different now. She couldn’t put the idea of the man she had been getting to know, who had been taking her on such magical dates, who had shown up in this small town with the man who’s pale face had been all over the news during his failed attempt to take over the world.  

The next moment, she was standing in what looked like her small living room. She’d spent the night grading papers sitting at her dining table, sharing coffee with Loki more than once. She tired to remember what she knew of the man who was defeated in New York as she turned, pulling herself from his arms easy enough.  

There was a moment where instinct took over. Her hand sailed through the air before she could even stop to think how terrible of an idea it was to slap a god. One who had been billed by the media as insane. One she had been tricked into caring for. He had tricked her into caring for him, hadn't he?

“Perhaps I deserved that.” Loki rubbed his jaw with something resembling more affection than pain. “Will you let me speak now?”  

“Do I have a choice? Where are we, really, anyway?”

“I suppose not.” Loki mused. “And we’re exactly where it looks like we are, in your living room. We don’t have long before they track me down.”

“Why? I cared for you and it was all a waste.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she crossed her arms in front of her.  

“Was it?” Loki asked. His voice was low low and gentle as he reached out, resting his hands on her arms. His thumbs were caressing the curve of her shoulders. It was so hard to tell herself that she should be scared of him when the man looking at her looked no different than the man she knew.  

“I’m not an idiot. Stop playing me for one.” She sniffled and it was an ugly sound in her own ears. “Why? Why ‘Luke’? That’s a dumb name, a step down from ‘Loki’.”

“The name? Simply a play on my own name. One of the names mankind has given me through the years is Luki, one letter off.” He shrugged. “It was good enough. I hadn’t planned to stay for long.”

“And I was, what? Just entertainment?” She scoffed and in a moment of frustration, Loki shook her sharply by the shoulders.  

“No. I intended to only be here for a few weeks while I recovered strength. But than-”

“You what? Found a toy? God, I can’t believe-”

“Bloody hell! Will you shut up and let me speak?!” Loki roared, voice demanding her attention. “I stayed because of you!”

“What?” Tears spilled from her eyes now and Loki’s hold softened. One hand moved to cup her cheek, fingertips wiping tears away.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you.” He didn’t give her a chance to turn him down, to say anything at all. “I don’t need you to say anything at the moment. I only needed you to know before they could interfere. I don’t expect that you could-”

“Shut up and kiss me.” What the future holds, she couldn’t say. What she did know was that her heart beat for him. She knew that she cared for him, regardless of if he was Luke, Luki or Loki. It would take time to merge the two identities into one and she had so many questions but none of that mattered in the moment.  

He did as she asked. When her front door opened, Tony’s hand on the knob, Loki was kissing her softly as a wave of magic shimmered over him. His smart suit disappeared in a shimmer of green and leather garb replaced it. The shift happened under her fingertips yet she didn't open her eyes. In a moment she went from kissing Luke the teacher to Loki the prince and yet, the way he kissed her remained the same.  

When their lips parted, she gazed up at him and admitted for everyone to hear, “I love you.”  

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7​, @theoneanna​, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @winterisakiller, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @wegingerangelica, @myoxisbroken, @panicfob

[xtheseviolentdelightsx]

Out Of The Blue

Chapter 1: Mornings at the No Doze Cafe

One of Blue’s favorite things in the entire world was her ability to walk into the No Doze coffee shop at five a.m. every…single…morning and have a mocha waiting on the counter for her with the name Doc lovingly scribbled on the side, along with her usual everything bagel and cup of yogurt. It was a truly beautiful way to start the day even when the days stretched out so long that they ran into one another.

“Morning Ash.”

She greeted her best friend with a warm smile, and no she wasn’t her best friend just because she happened to be a caffeine dealer.

“Morning Blue.”

Ashley smiled back as she looked up from stocking the front display case with decadent pastries in an array of colors that just made you kind of happy to look at.

Blue was convinced that heaven itself had sent Ashley to her in the form of a freshman roommate at Harvard. Ash was her first true friend and over time had become her sister by choice. Like many of her overachieving classmates Ash had opted their junior year to start her own business while still attending classes. Her valiant attempt at a coffee empire came in the form of the No Doze café which had inevitably become their new home. Blue had spent as many hours studying here as she had at the library and had drank her weight in coffee a rather embarrassing amount of times. Now that Blue was in the second year of her residency program she didn’t get to spend as much time here as she would like and found herself seriously missing quality time with Ash.

“What’s today Blue?”

Ash was looking her up and down, openly assessing her appearance.

“Day one.”

Blue stifled a yawn.

“I knew you looked a little less like the walking dead. How many hours last week?”

“One hundred and eight.”

Blue tugged at her chestnut curls in order to tighten her ponytail.

“It’s the scrubs that gave it away, right? The fact that they’re clean?” She snarked, green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Is this primitive torture really necessary in this day and age? I thought hazing was illegal or at least seriously frowned upon and it just seems like an awful kind of hazing. I launched a business while going to school and worked less hours.”

Ash leaned her hip against the counter, arms folded, the picture of indignation on Blue’s behalf.

It touched Blue’s heart that Ash worried about her health and well-being, she’d never had that before, someone to care and it meant the world to her.

“You’re not wrong. I’m not sure how performing medicine while propping yourself up by IV stand is a good idea but some traditions refuse to die, no matter how many times you try to stab them to death. Some ass of a Doctor probably resuscitated the tradition while it was trying to bleed out.” She finished with a half shrug and a grin.

“Only one more year, right?”

“Four hundred and eighty-three days, not that I’m counting.”

The quiet laughter behind her made Blue turn.

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to hold y’all up.”

“No hurry. I think you might need your caffeine fix more than we do Doc and that’s saying something.” The striking man smirked at her.

“Morning coffee buddy.”

“Thanks Clint, that means a lot coming from you. I know your coffee habits, I live them. Good morning.” Blue grinned and turned back to pick up her order. As she grabbed her coffee Ashley planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck, try to fit in some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Blue replied affectionately.

Ashley and Blue were used to the Avengers coming in at this point, they’d become regulars over the course of the last year. Even though they were daily flyers, Blue and Ash privately agreed that what they’d never adjust to was just how beautiful the heroes were in person. It was obnoxious really; genetics did not play fair.

Clint was the most frequent patron, often in multiple times a day. Sam, Steve and the rather intimidating Sergeant Barnes were in most mornings after their run. Others were less predictable. They figured it had to be a mix of the good coffee and the distance that brought them in, they were less likely to run into reporters or fans here. Whatever their reasons, every single damn one of them looked like a cover model and had the audacity to look that good whether it was five in the morning or midnight. On the days Blue drug herself in feeling like a certified zombie, that was seriously annoying, particularly as two of them tended to make her heart beat a little faster and she sure as hell didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

Blue fell into the comfy, overstuffed chair at her favorite table. She then engaged in the last part of her morning ritual where she tuned out the world and spent exactly twenty free, joyous minutes reading something that was neither for school nor work. It was always a mystery novel of some flavor and this weeks was Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evonivich. Interruptions to this beloved ritual were rare but this morning the quiet clearing of a throat caused her to look up.

“My apologies mam.”

Came in the form of a low rumble that threatened to make her toes curl. Blue knew he wasn’t an Angel but when she looked up at Steve Rogers, it was just a very little bit like looking into heavenly light.

“Hi Steve. What’s up?” Came out of her mouth but her internal monologue was busy running off the rails… “I am almost done with med school. I absolutely do not have time to date. He isn’t interested anyways; he’s just being nice. He’s really so very nice and kind and it would be so easy to talk to him…BUT every woman in the world probably throws themselves at his feet, with good reason, but I can do better than that, be better. I can be his friend. My pulse is not racing, my eyes will not dilate and the dopamine in my system will stay put. Friends are good. Be cool Blue.”

“Is it any good?” He gestured to the book. “I’ve picked up a couple I’ve seen you with but realized as a connoisseur it… well it would be nice to get your opinion before I bought them.” He finished with a smile and a small shrug.

“Mystery fan?”  Did he just admit that he’d been watching her for weeks? That can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, they frequent the same coffee shop, they both love mysteries. He was noticing her books not her.

Steve nodded. “I love a good read.”

Blue canted her head to the side. “You know…I never go back to them. Why don’t I just pass on the good ones when I finish one?” See she could be a good friend, that was definitely an offer a friend would make.

“Are you sure? I mean that would be really great, I would seriously appreciate it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and Blue could almost swear it was a nervous gesture. That was a funny thought though, him nervous talking to a little street waif like her, highly unlikely. On the other hand, if she were standing right now, her knees would maybe be a little weak.

“Mhhmm, no problem, I’d be happy to.” Blue gave him a small smile as if it was no big, keeping her façade of cool, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like.  

“Anything else?”

Steve grinned, shook his head no and made a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No Doc. I truly look forward to it, thank you.” He knew when he’d been dismissed.

Blue nodded not quite clear on what was so funny. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

Steve winced. “Steve, please. Mr. Rogers makes me sound like I host a children’s tv show.”

Blue’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“No TV allowed in Blue’s house growing up Steve. Blue there was a Mr. Rogers who hosted a famous children’s TV show. Good stuff, you’d like it actually.” Ash interjected, swooping to her rescue.

“No TV, probably why she’s a Doctor and I’m slinging coffee.”

“Oh please.” Blue laughed as she exchanged a grateful glance with Ash.

Steve’s face lit up. “Someone else who is as woefully under educated about pop culture as I am? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Blue simply shrugged in response and her eyes moved back to the page of her book so she could mask her embarrassment. She hated feeling so out of the loop, but her lack of pop culture education often left her feeling that way. Steve took that as his cue to leave. Because she wasn’t watching she missed the amused glances shot back and forth between Steve, Clint and Sergeant Barnes at her not so subtle dismissal.

The small interruption had the unfortunate side effect of killing her focus and Blue’s mind naturally started the predictable slide into work mode.  Ten minutes later when her alarm went off, she was still on the same page. With a sigh she tucked her bagel into her bag, it was a habit she couldn’t shake, always carrying extra food with her. Then she shouldered the bag, picked up her trash and headed out the door. As the shop door closed behind her it set off the happy tingle of the shop bell which covered the sound of Clint’s bemused laughter.

“Poor Steve, all the women in the world falling all over you and the one you finally decide on is utterly oblivious.” Clint goo-naturedly ribbed his friend.

“Hey Ashley, you don’t think she’s aware and just playing hard to get?” Clint was kind of dying to know.

Ash bit back a laugh. “No. Her focus is laser about getting through med school. I’ve known her for six years and she hasn’t been on a single date, as far as I know. Blue’s on scholarship and takes it seriously, she has to considering her circumstances. Excuse me for a sec guys.” Ashley stepped back into the kitchen as an oven timer began to ring.

“Steve’s never had game.” Bucky spoke softly as he squeezed his partner’s arm just above the elbow. As Ash had stepped away and it was just the three of them, he laid a tender kissed on his lips. “I find it endearing.” Bucky watched fondly as a blush climbed up Steve’s neck. “He does have excellent taste though.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “It’s refreshing, honestly. She’s not any different with us than with anyone else I expect. I wonder what Ash meant about her circumstances?”

“Not sure but she just might be worth the wait. Poor woman doesn’t know what’s about to hit her if you are both intent on pursuing her.” Clint mused.

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured softly. “She’s lovely, don’t give up. I’m looking forward to our first date.”

Bucky’s recovery had come a long way since Steve had saved him but in public he still preferred to let Steve take the lead and do the talking. He remembered how things were before, how he used to be the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t that person anymore, never would be again. Steve loves him anyways and that is far more than he deserves. Steve’s happiness is paramount to him, so he’d noticed Steve’s interest in the young Doctor before Steve was even aware of it.

He’d given the situation quite a bit of thought before encouraging his partner in that direction. They’d shared women in the past but had never considered adding one to their relationship long term. He and Steve were shadow and light, yin and yang, maybe too much so. A third might make things easier on Steve and he needed to make Steve happy. He owed him that. Now if they could just get Blue to give in to her interest in Steve. Of course, Steve would pick the one girl in the free world who wasn’t ready to throw themselves at his feet. Of course, he would, but he couldn’t fault Steve his choice. The more he observed the woman, the more he found his own interest piqued.

The doctor was different. Her phone wasn’t perpetually in her hand, she wasn’t constantly distracted by technology. She had noticed them, was surprised by their presence but he’d witnessed the moment she had visibly reigned her interest in. It had been a curious act of self-control. The more he’d watched the more he found himself intrigued and admittedly attracted. Unfortunately, their courtship seemed to be moving as slow as snail mail.

[ikonislife]

Spring Night.

-Jinhwan x Reader

-Friends to lovers, tiny pinch of angst + a dash of fluff + a whole lot of nonsense

-Being friends with an international idol is hard enough without the tangled mess of the heart. What will happen when you finally succumb to your emotions?

Dating is… hard. Even with your unbeatable single status, you’re at least allow to say that much and quite honestly, you doubt many would disagree. Bless are those who found their mate and seemingly not only survive but thrive through all of life adversaries hand in hand, hearts beating as one. What’s more, those who are not weighed down by the pressure of society to be with someone, those who are independent and could honestly give no fucks about what anyone else say. Last but not least, those who are free of the shackles that comes with the question “What are we?” As you sit here nursing the third bottle of cheap soju, because honestly, you’re broke and you’re trash so does it really makes a different if it’s smooth on the way down or burn like the fiery passion that your mother has for the future of your uterus… Anyhow, sidetrack and irrelevant. As you sit here nursing the third bottle of cheap soju at your favorite rooftop, you gaze at the bustling world below seemingly bursting with life like grass after a good long rainfall and wonder. “What are we?” Unfortunately, you’re none of the option above. You have no lifelong mate nor are you cool enough to lead life the way so many of the strong female role models you admire do. You give too much fuck about what people think and you wouldn’t dare to forget the shackles bestowed upon your soul by that heavy question. “What the fuck are we?”

You scream but there’s no answer aside from a few dogs howling back, good to know you’re at least cool enough to get a reply from animals. You thought about it day and night, but it seems as though the answer is more or less as elusive as the abominable snowman. You hadn’t really thought about it before really, why is it that everyone so obsess with labeling things, why can’t things just be things without a string of complicated adjectives and nouns to make it all technical and formal. You and him, friends but of course not lucky enough for that old outplayed trope of childhood best friend falling in love as adults. That’d be too easy, far too simple because face it, if Kim Jinhwan was your childhood best friend… Man, you would hold on and never let go, like Smaug and his golds. Is that too obscure of a reference for most to comprehend? Let’s try again. If Kim Jinhwan, godsent Kim Jinhwan was your childhood best friend, you’d be on him like cats and catnips, koalas and their favorite tree. That’s enough for analogy, everyone gets the point. But then if that was the case, you’d then have to worry about the possibility of an unrequited love and you’re almost certain you won’t fare well there either knowing your rotten luck. It seems so long ago since the first moment you laid eyes on the perfect specimen that is the charismatic, sexy dork named Jinhwan. You didn’t think much of it, never did it crossed your mind to even try and be friend with someone of such status. You were already lucky enough to get a one in a lifetime chance to be in the same room with such an admirable person, needless to say, “what are we?” wasn’t exactly what you were striving for when you laid eyes on him. He was so beautiful, there was just a natural glow, an ethereal light radiating from his beautiful self that shamed your eyes from holding their gaze too long even when he wasn’t looking. Even across a roomful of people buzzing with delight that they had gotten a rare chance to be near the newly blossomed idols, you caught his eyes and for a moment, your heart lost a beat and breath stolen. It was as if Earth had, for that single second, lost all of its atmosphere, leaving the entire bank worth of oxygen vanishing into the depth of the dark universe. Somewhere in between a sweet smile being offered as a greeting and your near death experience after one of his old timer joke left you snorting water up your nose, you became “friends”. “Friends” in the sense that you were sure after that night, after the confetti swept up by the night crew and all the flowers that sacrificed their lives to serve as eye candy for a crowd were tossed like yesterday news, he would no longer care for who you were and why you had mattered in that single hour he spent standing by your side. Oh well, it was still a good memory to have and to hold, you got to experienced what it was like to be Kim Jinhwan’s friend even if it was just for a few hours. Four years later and somewhere along the way, lines were blurred, and boundaries were crossed. At any given point in time, you would without a doubt say he’s the most important person in your life within the last decade aside from family. Your concern? Would Jinhwan say the same if he was to be confronted with the same question. Needless to say, “what are we?” carries meaning much deeper for you than it could ever possibly try to be with Jinhwan and you’re just not sure how to deal with that because face it, he’s an internationally adored public figure and you’re just a faceless figure in the crowd. But of course, not all love story bloom from best friends to lovers plotline so now is a good of a time as ever to run through all your option. Bottles running low and the moon rising high, you let the now found glow of your skin to bask in the light breeze of spring ending hoping for the sticky of summer to stay away just for a bit longer. Imagine that, getting drunk on a Thursday night covers in a layer of sweat because summer nights aren’t always reserve for quick fling Grease style. You instantly clicked the moment you had met, so the enemies to lovers line is out which leaves you with the option of love at first sight or the gradual falling for someone at the hands of time. Now under any other circumstances, with anyone else, you’d believe it, no second thought of just “what are we?” really meant but this is iKON’s Kim Jinhwan you’re talking about. The milky skin beauty, fairy in the eyes of so many fans, and the little fucking sex bomb of iKON with his sharp gaze and alluring smirk. Even if you know him as just Jinhwan, the dork who had showed up at your apartment half out of his mind and completely drunk on more occasion than once, or showed up simply because he was bored and much rather bothered you with making him a dinner than just getting to-go… To the world, he was still very much a goddess. As the last empty bottle clinking itself amongst its fallen comrade, you mutter a cuss at the unfairness of this world, wondering if he’d take offense that you had just called him a goddess but never mind that part. Did you ask to be friend with an international idol? Well, that’s a bit of a grey area courtesy of 11:11 and sponsorship from that shoot stars shower your dad had taken you to years ago. But in a million years never did you ask to fall in love with one, especially when he was Kim fucking Jinhwan, the impossible Kim Jinhwan. He was just unlike anyone you’ve ever met, so sweet and kind with the appearance that could make panties fall just by sparing a meaningless glance. He has the heart that could only be supported by the hands of millions of fans, so it goes without saying… You will never be enough. Is that a stupid thing to admit to yourself? That you will never be enough for the person you so hopelessly in love with? You are, in all the ways of the world, a realistic person and you love yourself enough to admit to all the faults, even if that means never being enough. You’re enough for yourself, for many others, but just not for him. “What are you doing drinking alone, dork?” You didn’t need to turn around to know just exactly who that voice has belong to. After all, just as with other fans, you’ve spent countless hours crying your heart out over their soft, soulful ballads.   “How’d you know I was here?” there was a time when you’d bother with hiding the pile of empty bottles, but of course that was also a time of shy conversations and timid smile. Now, now you wouldn’t even spare a second thought for the man drink nearly as much as you do, even if his choices are far more expensive and classier. “We have GPS track on each other’s phone, you dork.” He deadpanned, eyeing the pile with an expression that was honestly, one you hadn’t seen before. You’ve seen the silent anger, the flirt, the embarrassed, hell, even hanging off the toilet puking Jinhwan… This look, needless to say it leaves you wondering. “Would you care to join me and my friends here?” Patting the spot right beside yourself, you kick away the few bottles that had migrated right beside yourself before offering it up with as genuine of a smile as your buzzed self could offer. “Y/n, I’m serious. Why are you here drinking by yourself this late at night? And drinking this garbage too.” And though he wasn’t appointed the leader of the group, being the eldest meant that being concern over every little thing was part of his very being. Seriously, you forget just about how many times you had gotten in trouble with the small fairy, suffering from the wrath of those sharp eyes glaring, nostril flaring, just because you had forgotten your sweater. When you had glanced over at the man himself, barely a thin button up, if you could even call it that with just how many buttons were loosely hung rather than safely tucked away in their home. “What’s with all the question? What are you, the police?” You jeer, fully acknowledging the fact that you, with all intent and purposes, doing your best to avoid letting him know of the monologue you had shared with the neighborhood canines. “And I’m broke, what’s it to you? Gonna arrest me for bad taste and crumbling under societal expectation?” Another chug and a glance that could cut stone, it was only now that your blurred vision had let on the concern plaguing his beautiful face. So instead of dwelling on that strange tone and worried gaze, you stare dead ahead, letting the burning of the poison wash away all your sadness. “Why didn’t you just go to my place. I’m sure I’ve got enough alcohol to fill your limitless soul, you little keg.” Ripping the bottle away from your iron clad grip, Jinhwan takes it upon himself to lower his standard, letting a few drops of your choice of weapon tainted his tongue before nearly gagging at the taste. “Because, I don’t wanna be smooching off your ass all the time…” Struggling for your salvation back, the stench of cheapness barely got a chance to singe your nose hair before you went barreling sideway. He might be small, but no one ever dare say Kim Jinhwan doesn’t come packing. “Yea, like you don’t do that all the time.” He rolls his eyes and, normally, this banter, the constant jab at each other would only mean that a full fledge battle was about to go down. Today… Today, somehow it stings, far worse than the burn your esophagus had suffered through the past few hours. “What are you, shy or something now?” He’s prepared, arms up and leaning backward, just waiting for you to explode but nothing… He watches on, anxious and concern, once more wearing that indecipherable expression as you pull yourself off the cold, hard ground. “Yea, something…” You mutter under your breath, a bitter smile and a dejected sigh fall from your lips before silent once more overtakes the night. The hand that had been so diligently packing away the empty bottles to be recycle (because come on, you’re a drunk, not a menace to the neighborhood’s cleanliness) stiffening under the warmth of his hand, tugging, begging silently for you to just once look his way. “What’s wrong, Y/n. I can tell something, someone is clearly bothering you. Is it me?” You could hear the frantic in his voice, the way his soft fingers wrapping so firmly around your hand should’ve sooth your heart, but it doesn’t. Perhaps mercury is in retrograde, perhaps a blood moon or a blue moon or even a tangerine one was upon, but for once in the short time since you’ve known him, Jinhwan couldn’t provide you the solace your weary heart needs. “Self-centered much?” A scoff you didn’t know was choked inside your throat dislodges itself into the brisk breeze, scaring the man that was nothing but worry about your wellbeing. “Just because I’m upset, it must somehow mean you’re involve. Even so, it’s not like you have time for me anyways.” No sooner than the shock mingling with the tiniest tint of pain had spread over those handsome features, you storm away. You storm away not because you were angry nor because he had done something wrong. You storm away simply because knowing the hurt in his voice as he chases after you, the way that adorable pout is tugging at his lips, it’s all because of you. “Wait, Y/n. Oh my God, you’re crying.” Breathless and most definitely confuse, Jinhwan rushes out the words barely had a chance forming in his mind. Never before had you cried in front of him, not even when you had split your knees open because someone had instilled in Jinhwan’s mind that tandem bike was a good idea (Damn Junhoe and his loud mouth, never again will you trust him with anything). Thumbs gently wiping away the hot tears streaking down your cheeks, he lets one arm snaking around your waist, the other resting gently across your shoulders. It feels amazing being in his arms, to feel his breath tickling delightfully against your hair, to feel his heart beating so comforting against your chest. “Y/n, you know you can tell me anything… And I don’t know much about life, but I do know you. And I know that something I did make you upset.” “It’s nothing-“ Before you dare to finish that sentence, to brush this entire night off as nothing but a glitch in the system of your lonely life, Jinhwan already pushes you off his shoulder. Though not far enough that you could run away once more, he had enough running for the night. It was definitely enough to let a shiver wrecking down your spine as the sternness of a man meaning business steeling in his features. “I’m not playing around, Y/n. If I did something to make you angry or resentful of me, I’d rather have you scream at me, punch me, kick me, whatever the hell you want to do. But don’t think that I’ll just sit back and let you go through your stupid tantrum and silent treatment without a fight.” You’ve known him for far too long and far too intimate to lie now, not after the laid-back man had grown tired of your antic. “I didn’t say anything because it’s just something stupid, and trivial.” A heavy sigh falling from your lips, mulling, perhaps stalling the inevitable end of your friendship with this perfect man. Strange how accepting death, or in this case death to your friendship, suddenly instilling bravery into your feeble heart. Your words lingering, echoing through the night air as you let your index tracing out the swirls and lines of his woven sweater covering his chest, toying dangerously close to the soft, smooth skin of his neck, buying as much time being so warm in his arms as you could. “You’re far too busy to be dealing with my idiotic nonsense…” “Y/n… We’re friends, aren’t we? The last time I had a meltdown over stress, who were there listening to my incessant babbling, dealing with my messes even though she didn’t have to?” Pulling you once more into his chest, Jinhwan cards solace through to your soul with each pass of his fingers through your hair. Yet your heart, drumming erratically, nearly jumping out of your chest when something that had felt so much like a kiss pressed so delicately against your wind-blown locks. It couldn’t be, your mind scrambling for an answer, but your heart is in disbelief, refusing to let you believe that fleeting touch was anything but accidental. “Me…” Your little admittance muffled deep within the crook of his neck where you had made yourself a niche, the little niche that you’d surely lose by tonight’s end. “Who? I’m sorry, am I talking to a little mouse?” Now normally these little teases, the little words that irked you to the moon and back would be accompany by little jab to your side, a ruffle to your hair, or even a pinch to your cheek. Yet once again, mercury must be in fucking retrograde and Gatorade because he had only tightened his hug further, digging his nose into your soft locks as he takes in a long whiff. “Me.” You yelp louder, out of shock or out of contentment, who even knows anymore. “Right, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on between us.” Much to your disappointment, Jinhwan loosen the hold he got around your body, though barely enough to put a few inches in between your chests, it was enough to lure out a heavy sigh from your lungs. “What I am about to say… You have to promise me, promise me you won’t hate me afterward. You can take your time, process everything and I don’t know, stop being friends with me… But just please, don’t hate me.” Your gaze no closer to meeting his than it had nearly an hour ago when he had first plopped down beside you. You don’t need to look to know that concern expression already painting over his soft features, choosing to focus instead on the warmth emanating from his body through to you. You let your eyes fluttering close, jaw clenching and fist balling, no preparation in this world would be enough for what you’re about to do. “I like you, Jinhwan. Not the platonic soulmates bullshit, n-not the way you boys like each other as lifelong friends either.” You pause for a second, a thought sparking in your head at the most inappropriate of time but it was one you think needed to be said. “Well maybe the way Hanbin likes Jiwon…” You mull over the prospect of the two rappers’ matter of the heart before a stern cough from Jinhwan reel you back to reality. “Sorry, not the time for that. What I’m trying to say is, I like you in all the ways that a girl could like a guy. All the ways that leave me breathless, aching for more when you smile my way. But I know… if you were to fall in love, it’d probably be with one of the hundreds of beautiful women you meet that are far better than me. Just as well as I know this, us is never going to happen. I’m sorry.” Your words slowly trailing out, barely there just as your heart barely beating at the silent settling so fast over your still embraced body. Each beat of the heart, each second ticking by was another second closer to your entire body failing, losing all functions. You want to run, to hide, to dig a hole and throw yourself in to the vat of boiling rock in the core of the Earth but he doesn’t let you, arms still holding on so tightly. Tears once more threatening to spill from your eyes, and you want him to scream, to yell, to have him do something, anything at all but this ugly silent. “I am busy, that’s true.” When he finally breaks the excruciating silent, it wasn’t the words you wanted to hear. And even though you had fully prepared yourself for a rejection, it hurts. “Maybe I’m just too busy being yours to fall for someone else… Have you considered that?” “What in the actual fuck are you talking about?” Even if a smile already blossomed on your lips, your heart still fully in disbelief at the words that had just processed through your brain. “Okay, that is not the reaction I deserve after baring my heart, but I have to admit it’s one I expected… And very on brand for my girlfriend.” You must be dreaming because that word, you finally got to hear the word that makes your heart flutter being spoken through that sweet voice. Once more your face fallen onto his chest, hiding away the blush that was far brighter than the glow alcohol had painted your skin with. “Oh, come on. Stop hiding, don’t I deserve at least a kiss or something?” A soft kiss flutters against your cheek and this time, this time there was no confusion for the delicate warmth of his lips sent your heart into overdrive. “I-, just give me a second. I’m still processing… You’re not messing with me, are you?” Finally mustering enough courage to peer up at the handsome man, you nearly faint seeing a smile already so brilliant on his lips, and the way he was staring down at you so lovingly. “I would never do to anyone, let alone you. Do you not trust me?” “I’m sorry, but one second you were calling me a free loader, and the next I’m suddenly your girlfriend now. I feel like I can’t even breathe properly, lay off me, will you?” For the first time since he had gotten his arms wrapped around your body so tightly, your soul nearly passed out, you rip yourself away from comfort. Pacing about, you fan at your face then fan at your entire body, not even the soft breeze of the night could cool your heart down. You couldn’t stay away for long, his laughter so fresh and crisp, echoing through the silent of the night lure you back in, nearly tackling him to the ground in a big hug. “Did that solve your alcoholic tendency, hmm miss Y/n?” He sighs gently, pressing a dainty kiss against your lips as if that has always happened, as natural as the moon reigning over the night sky. “If I say no… Will there be more kisses?” “Brat!” He sighs with a pinch to your cheek, and another sweet kiss to your lips. This one lasting a bit longer than the last and you hope with time, they’ll never end. “You don’t have to worry about that because believe it or not, I do actually want to kiss you, like all the time.” “I honestly thought tonight was going to end with me making out with the toilet but… I think I much prefer this.” Your words trail off into a kiss, though not yet brave enough to let it lingers into so much more, you were content with the innocent of a new relationship budding in the soft breeze of the night and gentle scent of spring’s best blossoms. “Me too.” He sighs simply, content and happy. Dating is… hard. And now that you no longer belong to the unbeatable single club (sorry, Hanbin. You’ll have to beg for his forgiveness for leaving him behind and stolen his eldest.), you are most definitely qualified now to make that statement and Jinhwan would agree. Even if the beginning of your relationship wasn’t one to compete in the race of the most romantic or in the running of the best ‘friends to lovers stories’, it was one that’ll surely put a smile on your lips for years to come… That if Jinhwan hadn’t beat your ass and hand you over to the grim reaper for annoying the living day light out of him. For now, you’ll enjoy your walk home and the excitement bubbling in your chest as he plans out your very first date, the question of “what are we” is nothing more than a distant memory. 

[cas-backwards-tie]

Friendsmas Is A Tradition

Peter Parker x Amy 

Summary: Celebrating her first Friendsmas with the gang, Amy hopes she won’t be intruding on their traditions. 

Warnings: Anxiety, Teenage Awkwardness.

Words: 2,244

Beta: @flyonlittlewinchester 

A/N: This is for @hollyjollyholland‘s Secret Santa! This is my present for @thelazypangolin , who is an absolute sweetheart and I hope you had an amazing holiday season. Also, if you couldn’t tell by the fic I’m 100% the anon who asked you which artists/musicians/bands you liked awhile back, lol.

Approaching the door of the apartment, the one Amy has come to know belongs to Peter Parker, she checks her wristwatch. Right on time, she thinks to herself while adjusting the box tucked between the crook of her elbow and her side. Amy counts the number of gift bags sitting inside the box to double check she’d brought one for everyone.

Her knuckles rap against the cream colored door, only to emit quiet knocks. Stepping back, she takes a deep breath to try and keep her worries at bay. What if they don’t like the gifts I got them? What if they don’t want me here? Maybe I shou- “Amy! I was hoping it was you,” Peter’s welcoming voice greets her. His arms immediately open for a mandatory hug before Amy’s allowed inside.

“Who is it?” The sound of MJ’s voice brings Amy ease as she fully embraces Peter with her unoccupied arm. He smells like gingerbread, Amy smiles at her thought.

“Didn’t you just hear him basically announce to the whole neighborhood that Amy’s here? You must’ve missed it in the bathroom,” Ned’s voice floats into the hallway making Amy and Peter chuckle. A hint of red coats Peter’s cheeks before he straightens his posture; stepping back into the apartment he gestures for Amy to come inside.

“I can take that for you,” Peter says, swiping the box of goodies out of Amy’s hold before she can protest. “No worries. I’ll just put them over here,” dismissing any worries Amy might’ve had, Peter places the box on the coffee table next to a few other presents. A small glittery green box is neatly wrapped with a golden bow atop it. Next to that there are three others: a small rectangular box wrapped in newspaper, a cylinder wrapped in blue wrapping paper with Santa riding a unicorn printed all over it, and lastly a red and white wrapped box resembling the colors of a peppermint laid next to your box.

The smell of gingerbread and cookies fills the room. Amy looks over to see Aunt May putting some sweets into a Tupperware container before stuffing a cookie in her mouth while the Tupperware goes into her purse. “Peter you know the rules, you know my number. Don’t call unless it’s actually an emergency this time, okay? Make sure everyone gets home by ten, I don’t need another call from Liz’s parents again.”

A smile makes its way across Amy’s lips as Aunt May gives her a small wave with her free hand. “Hey, Amy! Merry Christmas, I gotta go, be good.” Amy gives Aunt May a salute before laughing.

“Will do, will do, Ms. Parker.” Aunt May leaves with reassurance that they’ll be fine. The door creaks as it closes; the lacking sound of the latch causes everyone’s heads to turn.

“Oh, and Amy?”

“Yes?” Amy curiously awaits Aunt May’s response.

“Aunt May is fine. None of this- ‘Ms. Parker’ nonsense. I’m not that old.” The woman mocks offense before giving Amy a smile and waving goodbye to everyone. This time the door latches as it closes and everyone’s focus returns to the presents smack-dab in the center of the coffee table.

Ned sits on the right-hand side of the couch with his hands clasped in his lap. MJ sits on the left-hand side of the couch with her head resting in the palm of her hand, arm leaning against the armrest. Liz sits a few feet away from Ned on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table, sitting on her shins as she eagerly eyes the presents.

A clap brings Amy out of her thoughts as her attention, along with everyone else's, is brought to Peter. “Now that everyone’s here, we should start!” He gestures for Amy to take the seat on the couch between MJ and Ned, but she just stares at him blankly.

“No, it’s okay.”

“You’re the guest,” Peter persuades as he tilts his head toward the seat, eyeing Amy intensely.

“Then why is Liz on the floor?” Amy retorts with her eyes narrowed at the awkward boy.

“Uh- because she chose to sit there? Now that everyone’s here,” Peter draws out his words as he urges Amy to sit on the couch before he continues. The girl finally accepts and sits between MJ and Ned on the plush brown couch. “We can begin!”

Peter drops to the floor and spreads his legs out in front of him as he rests his weight on his hands behind him on the carpet to prop himself up. “Who wants to start? We can just give everyone each other’s presents and then open them all at once? How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good to me,” Michelle responds first, followed by agreements from everyone else. “I can start!” Michelle reaches for the blue wrapped cylinder with Santa riding a unicorn on the paper. She hands the cylinder to Ned. “This is for you.”

“Oh, haha, thanks.” Ned smiles as he grabs the newspaper wrapped box and hands it to Michelle. “I’m actually your Secret Santa, too!” Liz hands the glittery green box with a golden bow to Peter, who lightly shakes it with his ear pressed against the box. Amy hands Liz a bag with a penguin sledding on it, the gifts shielded by red tissue paper.

With everyone’s gifts in their hands, they all sit back in their spots opening their respective gifts. Amy looks around the circle as she hasn’t gotten a gift; Peter’s eyes are on Amy as he slides the peppermint-colored gift box across the coffee table. “This is for you,” he offers a soft smile in turn.

“Thanks,” Amy’s voice comes out quieter than she’d meant for, yet Peter nods in response.

Ned receives a tube of slime from Michelle, and she receives a Funko Pop from Ned; a favorite cartoon character of hers. Liz receives a nice sweater and necklace from Amy while Liz gifted Peter a Spiderman poster probably with consideration of how much he raves about the hero. Peter smiles while Ned bursts out in laughter. “Now that’s amazing!” The comment from Ned has Peter sending him a ‘look’.

Ripping into the wrapping paper on her gift, Amy slides the box out of the paper and onto her lap. ‘Old Navy’, the label reads. “Oh! It’s not actually from Old Navy, we just didn’t have any other boxes.” Peter comments while his eyes remain on the poster he received, along with a box of Poptarts that were hiding before. His words leave Amy curious as to what really is inside the box. Lifting the top off, Amy is met with: A burgundy beanie, a small bottle of vanilla scented lotion, and two tickets to see Shawn Mendes.

Amy’s jaw drops open as she gawks at the gifts. “You got tickets to see Shawn Mendes?!” The shrill pitch of Amy’s voice causes MJ to cringe beside the girl.

“Yeah! I know you like him, and the tickets were a pretty good deal! I thought maybe we could go together? U-unless you want to use the ticket on someone else, it’s your gift, it’s cool. Whatever you want.” Peter clears his throat and smiles awkwardly as he averts everyone’s gaze to focus on his hands playing with the carpet.

“Yeah... yeah. Thank you, Peter.” Everyone thanks their Secret Santa in their own ways. Liz begins to pick up the scattered wrapping papers and trash. Ned opens his tub of slime, beginning to play with it.

“I thought we had a budget?” Ned speaks to no one in particular.

“Did we?” Peter laughs nervously as his hand rakes through his brown locks.

“Well I know we said that we were only getting gifts for the one person, but my Mom and I made cookies this week and I thought I’d bring you guys some.” Amy forgot to mention that there were indeed smaller little gifts inside as well: simple things she’d picked up at Five Below.

“Ooh! Your cookies are the best!” Liz hurriedly makes her way back from the kitchen where she’d thrown away the wrapping paper. A big smile makes its way across her face as she eagerly waits for Amy to hand her a bag. “Thank you, Aims, I love these! My thighs might not love these but I do and it’s the holidays so who cares?”

“Go figure,” Michelle jokes as a smirk displays itself across her lips. Receiving her own bag from Amy, Michelle puts the gift on the armrest of the couch alongside her other gifts.

“Speaking of your Mom’s famous cookies, Aunt May left us some gingerbread men in the kitchen! I actually should go put the other tray in the oven.” Peter is on his feet in an instant and already halfway to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Amy!” Ned gives the girl a quick smile before returning his focus to the wad of slime slowly descending toward his lap. Using his free hand to catch the drooping slime, Ned wads it into a ball and tries to keep it from sticking to his hands. “You can just leave it there,” Ned awkwardly laughs as Amy had been holding the bag out to him just watching the entire situation unfold.

“Yeah, no problem.” Amy puts the bag of cookies on the coffee table in front of Ned, her attention shifting toward the kitchen.

“Wanna come make cookies?” Michelle asks as she pokes her head out of the doorway. “Might wanna hurry though, Peter might eat them all by the time you get there!” Her loud taunt is directed toward Ned.

“I’m stuck!” Ned cries out, making Michelle roll her eyes and chuckle. Michelle decides to go help Ned while Amy makes her way to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Amy stands in the doorway with her shoulder resting against the frame. Liz sits on top of the counter in the right-hand corner while Peter puts a timer on the oven. He leans back against the counter smiling when he sees Amy’s joined the scene.

Liz gasps; everyone’s attention pans to Liz in question to what the problem is. “Guys!” Liz squeals excitedly as she smiles, slightly squirming in her seat. With the pointing of a finger, Amy finds the reason for the girl’s excitement. “You have to, it’s tradition!”

Amy looks from the mistletoe hanging above her in the doorway to Peter who stands a few feet before her. Peter seems calm, his hands in his pocket as he stands there quietly. “What do you say?” The boy gulps, his stiff posture not helping to exude anything but the anxious he truly feels.

“Well,” Peter starts slowly, “we wouldn’t want to break tradition, would we?” A small smirk dares itself to make an appearance upon his lips. Taking a brave step forward, Peter begins to close the space between himself and Amy.

Amy simply nods, unable to voice her feelings and the fact that regardless of the mistletoe, it would be something she’d want. She finds herself looking up at Peter soon enough, only a few inches separating them now. “Liz?” Amy finally finds the confidence to speak.

“Yeah?” Liz watches from the counter with a big grin on her face, hands clasped in front of her chest as if in anticipation of the ‘event’ before her. The girl’s brows are quirked and the mere nonchalance she admits causes Amy to question whether her request is rude or not.

“Could you, uh, turn around please?” A nervous smile is what greets Liz as Amy pleads with her eyes for Liz to comply. Liz looks shocked for a moment before slipping off the counter and making her way toward them.

“Uh, yeah! No problem. I won’t look, as a matter of fact, I should probably see what Ned and MJ are up to.” Liz heads off down the hallway leaving Amy and Peter alone in the kitchen doorway.

“So…” Amy bites her lip in anticipation, “tradition, huh?”

Peter swallows his nerves and fear, “Yeah,” he replies quietly before his eyes are staring into Amy’s. Within a moment, Peter leans down while Amy brings a hand up to Peter’s cheek. Placing his lips on her cold ones, Peter closes his eyes while a hand snakes its way around Amy’s waist. His soft lips press against her own, softer than she could ever imagine. Amy smiles into the kiss, her hand slowly making its way around his neck, joined by her other to hold him close.

Eventually, it becomes hard to breathe and they both retract slowly. Opening her eyes, Amy’s arms fall to her sides as she stands there awkwardly, one hand coming up to hold her other arm.

“I’ve wanted to do that for awhile now,” Peter’s quiet confession causes Amy to do a double-take.

“What?” Amy wants to make sure she isn’t hearing things.

“I, uh, I probably shouldn’t have said that.” Face-palming, Peter grimaces. “I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” A laugh erupts from Amy, who shakes her head.

“No…. no, that was perfect, Peter.”

[spycethra]

Title: Unseen

Pairing: Gavin Reed x RK-900

Relationship Level: Secretly Dating

Rating: Fluff

Summary: Gavin meets an old colleague at a crime scene and they jokingly flirt with one another. Starting RK-900 Jealousy Timer in 3... 2...  

The serial murders occurring at the lakeside were starting to become a rather huge pain in the ass for the detective as he warily eyed his near-empty gas tank.

“I told you that we should have refilled at the gas station several miles back,” RK-900 scolded, already noticing the stress indicators littered across Gavin’s shoulders, neck, and back, “Now we will have to consult one of the other officers to see if they might be able to assist us.”

His partner’s gloved fingers curled tighter over the steering wheel, the leather scrunching threateningly as he did so.

“Just keep at it, Nines,” Gavin warned with a scowl though keeping his eyes on the road, “I might consider finding myself a new partner.”

“Hmph. Go ahead,” Richard responded coolly which caused the other a spike of alarm, “If you prefer a downgrade.”

The android took victory in hearing Gavin laugh through his nose, trying hard to keep his lips in a tight look of sternness but to no avail. He watched his partner quickly shake his head as the short breathy laugh came out anyway.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You wound me, Detective. I only speak the truth.”

“Uh huh.”    

The car rumbled against the snow covered path before inevitably hitting their destination. Four squad cars including an ambulance and a firetruck had all appeared at the scene. He slowed the vehicle to a crawl, parking near enough not to draw any attention. He really wasn’t in the mood to chat.  

Gavin sighed at the sight of all the sorry folks stuck out in the freezing cold at three in the morning thanks to a damn wannabe Zodiac killer that couldn’t hold off calling 911 at a more reasonable hour. Dark circles had already found their way beneath his eyes and no amount of caffeine was going to wash away the annoyance of examining yet another dead android.

“Are you ready, Reed?” RK-900 inquired, obviously noting his partner’s grim hesitance.

There was no question that the other was exhausted with these serial murders. They kept happening like clockwork on a Thursday night where the drop point was always just around the shoreline of St. Clair Lake.

The detective pressed his forehead deeply into the steering wheel while begging some higher power to provide him with the strength not to tear into some unlucky intern on account of his worn down state.

“I sense that you’re pushing yourself beyond your limits, Reed. Perhaps I could examine the crime scene while you take a brief rest in the car,” offered RK-900 gently yet he should have known better.

His human absolutely hated to be coddled… except when the situation demanded for it.   

“Shut up! I’m going! I’m going…” Gavin insisted angrily as he hit the steering wheel, causing the horn to accidentally go off.

He sat in silence while slowly closing his eyes. His aggravation seemed to rise with every tap of his fingers as he drummed them hatefully against the steering wheel. RK-900 merely sat idle, awaiting for his partner to calm down. Eventually Gavin would see reason.

He usually did, anyway.

But not right now, as with a deep breath, Gavin forced himself out of the car and into the cruel winter night that surrounded them.

Richard was quick to march to his side as his partner stumbled a bit in the snow during their walk towards the crime scene now illuminated by a slew of Nomad LED floodlights. Tarps were set up to cover the majority of the area to prevent any falling snow from burying any potential evidence.

“Got any Thirium 310 on scene, Rich?”

A tension filled the android’s chest at the sight of the calamity. First there was the horribly twisted body of the victim… but then there was what appeared to be a brutal draining of the deceased android’s blood. The culprit smeared it beneath the victim… like paint.

RK-900’s eyes narrowed.

“More than just a single android could hold…” he informed his partner, who dramatically hung in his head in reply as the snow billowed around them, “It was mixed with that of several other units…”

“...Fuck. Can you analyze any of it?”

“The thirium is compromised, Reed. I cannot.”

Richard stood calmly while his partner suddenly whirled around, violently kicking at a mound of snow just behind them.

“Fuuuuck!” he yelled in frustration to which everyone else was wise not to look up - at least not for too long - as the detective threw his expected conniption fit, “Fuck! Fucking fu-!”

“Well, if it isn’t fucking Gavin Reed!” came a thrilled shout just behind them.

The shorter man heatedly turned to see a silhouette of someone he hadn’t seen in months. She stepped forward with caramel hair wound tight in a low bun with a single green eye catching the detective in her sights while the other remained enshrouded in a decorative eye patch of engraved metal. Her white scrubs nearly blended her away into the snow blanketed shoreline, but her shivering frame was still a dead give away.

She bestowed the detective with a smile that spoke countless levels of mischief. Hugging her arms around herself, she gave him a proud chin lift in greeting.  

“Decanterrrr! And here I thought you went through with murdering everyone at the third precinct,” Gavin joked back with a softness that had RK-900 actually turning his head in amazement as his partner’s body language altered immediately, “What happened?”

Watching Gavin stuffing his hands into his coat pockets while seeming to fluff himself outwards more to seem bigger, RK-900 had no idea what was happening. Especially not when Gavin started to approach the female with a swagger typically reserved for the android. The sight made something in Richard’s biocomponents burn with something unseemly.

“Is she a criminal, Reed?” Richard interjected quickly while compiling an entire archive consisting of Dr. Decanter’s medical records, criminal history, social networking activity, occupational history, and educational background.

“Huh? What?” Gavin replied, turning to him as though surprised he was even there.

“I asked… if she is a criminal,” RK-900 repeated coldly, though not entirely sure why.  

Decanter eyed them both - though mostly the RK unit - with solid apprehension which the detective was quick to try and dissolve.

“Oh, yeah. I mean with curves like that and still single, I would presume so. Am I right?” Gavin teased with a grin her way before noting a frightening tension at his side.

Slowly his grey eyes traveled back to the silently seething android. To the untrained eye, anyone would think RK-900 was just standing there but not to Gavin… Richard looked ready to tear something apart.

It was all in the way his jaw would twitch just at the left corner. Just the left. If both moved, Gavin was still safe. ...But he felt too afraid to bother checking the other side and chose to just assume the worst.

He must just be dying to check the crime scene… The detective thought warily before shooting his old colleague a look of apology before staring back at his partner with a sigh.

“You and I both know you don’t have to ask me that. I bet you already scanned her, so you tell me.”

“...She’s... clean,” Richard answered gruffly, oddly disappointed that she didn’t even have anything as insignificant as a parking ticket.   

In fact… she was perfect. Highest grades. Summa cum laude. Impeccable case file record. The more he dared to delve into this Decanter’s life, the more Richard felt inclined to just forcefully drag his partner back to the car - abandoning the investigation.

It was a first for him… and completely unreasonable.

And very unlike him.

“Still hitting the gym, Gav?” the medical examiner asked cheerfully while nodding her head in the direction of the roped off area, proceeding making her way there.

Gav?

Richard bristled at the casual use of a nickname that he never even knew about.

He never had the chance to shorten Gavin’s first name before… Much less was even presented the privilege to.

“You bet your sweet ass,” Gavin replied cockily with a smirk as he followed her to the first body, leaving the RK unit behind as though he had come alone.

It felt almost deviant how repulsively entranced the detective became around this measly medical examiner. Gavin was completely relaxed compared to how he was just moments ago in the car. The android’s eyes narrowed while his face darkened considerably despite the blinding illumination surrounding him.

“What about you? How’s pilates been treating you?” Gavin asked her while kneeling down beside her to inspect the mangled android beneath the blue tarp.

RK-900 withheld the urge to join them, somehow feeling that doing so would feel like… an intrusion. He turned his head away from them yet his peripherals refused to let up as he heightened his hearing just to eavesdrop on them.  

“Oh shut uuup. You were right about that nonsense,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes as Gavin jokingly feigned a look of complete surprise, “Oh stop. You knew it would bore the hell out of me the entire time, didn’t you?”

“Well, I did warn you. But what have you been doing? Because those cheeks...” Gavin eyed her rear end playfully, allowing her mind to imagine the rest as he gave her a suggestive wink.

Her delighted laughter stung at the auditory receptors belonging to the eavesdropping investigator. It worsened as he heard Gavin laughing with her. The two leaned in, bumping into one another jokingly in an attempt to knock the other over.

Why am I even here?

Richard stilled as the sudden thought startled his natural processing. He turned his head to the duo again, watching them with their innocent smiles and weightless laughter despite being at a gruesome crime scene.

“Did you even get any stronger?”

“Pfft! Of course, I did. I could bench lift you if I felt like it."   

“Yeah right. Let me see.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Gavin outstretched his arm for her, curling it for her to exam the bicep through his coat.

“Mmmm. I can’t see anything. Guess it isn’t real.”

“Oh shut up and feel it already.”

It felt like slow motion for the android as he witnessed her hands getting ever so closer to his human’s bicep before finally squeezing for the truth. His insides felt as if the wiring tangled itself into unforgiving knots as a vile coldness swelled within him. One moment he felt ablaze with an energy without reason and the next he found himself in a void of nothingness.

It was almost as if his cognitive software couldn’t simply pick one method of misery for him to endure.

“Okay, okay! So you might have become a tee tad stronger than when I last saw you.”

“Damn straight. I’ve been really working on these babies sinc-Mmf!” A frozen hand clamped over the lower half of his face, sending jolts of confused sensations through his body as he was dragged roughly away from the examiner’s touch.

“Mmmnnngh!!”

“Hush now, Detective. You’re frightening your... colleague,” Richard remarked so frigidly that it could make an ice cube shiver.

Decanter’s eyes went wide seeing the oxen strength the android possessed, having scooped Gavin up as though he were just an oversized prize at a county fair. Only… people didn’t normally stifle any and all protest from the prize’s mouth. Nor did the prize wriggle and writhe against their owner in fussy dissent.

But that air of sudden superiority and determined success that exuded from the RK-900’s perfectly tempered expression were definitely part of it.

“I don’t apologize for the intrusion. In case you were wondering, doctor,” asserted the android frostily.

Her eyes drifted to Gavin still kicking in midair, his boots barely scraping the snow. It was then that she recognized that RK-900’s hand wasn’t wearing its skin.

“You see this,” Richard raised his struggling human just a little higher for emphasis, making sure to make his point burn like dry ice into her retinas, “This belongs to me.”

AN: Fun stuff, fun stuff. @judas-had-a-crown , I hope you enjoyed this drabble. XD It was fun to write though I felt so bad for RK-900. But in all fairness, Gavin wasn’t serious in his flirting. I promise. It’s mostly joking around. 

I mean, she’s wearing those big ol’ white SCRUBS. XD He can’t see anything physical about her anyway. So there you go in case it felt like Reed was cheating or something. He really wasn’t. He just expected RK-900 to get tunnel vision and start licking things - since that’s what he usually does.  

[artificialqueens]

Daddy’s Boy Chapter 2 {biadore} -imafuckinglibra

Hey you beautiful bitches, remember how I said I was projecting onto Danny in this fic a lot? Yeah…that happens this chapter so heads up hurt Danny and a lot of self hate but Roy coming to the rescue. Also I haven’t slept in 48 hours and I’m currently cuddling a cat so I’m sorry for spelling errors as usual. Next chapter is some good old smut and then some domestic fluffy goodness. K bye

Danny ran up the stairs to Willam’s bathroom yanking the packer out of his pants throwing it roughly against the tiles. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” He yelled, uncontrollably sobbing and punching the walls, seeing blood on his knuckles but not stopping. He felt someone warm embrace him from behind, pulling him back and holding his arms down. Danny didn’t bother to check who it was, just folding over crying to the point where he couldn’t breathe.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I got you.” Roy whispered soflty in his ear, trying to sooth the boy and holding him tighter. “Breathe, Danny.” He tried coaching him releasing his arms and placing a hand on his chest. “I hate myself. I hate my body. I hate being so fucked up! I hate being a fucking disgusting tranny! I’m a freak, I know you all think that!” Danny yelled between gasping for air, his tears not stopping and his body heaving. Roy turned him around as Danny fell to his knees, cupping his face in his hands. “You’re not. Sweet boy, you’re not that at all. None of us think that. Your body is so beautiful. You are so beautiful.” Roy’s words were tender and sincere as he caressed the crying boy’s face also getting down on his knees.

“I want to die.” Danny whispered dropping his head and getting his breath back. “Never think that way.” Roy pulled his face up to his, making eye contact with the hazel eyes. “Never, ever think that. Okay? Danny, you’re so strong. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He soothed the boy, his voice as soft as he could manage. Danny leaned in, kissing Roy and surprising the man. He felt his tears stop as he pressed his lips gently against Roy’s full lips. Pulling back, his breathing still slightly broken looking up into the dark brown eyes staring at him. “Sorry, I just needed a distraction.” He whispered as Roy wiped his tears away with his thumbs. Roy leaned in kissing him again, just as soft and pulling back he let go of his face to hold Danny’s hand. The two sat there for a few minutes on the tiles, Roy holding his bruised hand, cleaning the fresh wounds on it and giving Danny a soft peck every now and then when he saw his eyes well up.

Dela came in telling them the food was ready and Roy looked at Danny asking silently if he was okay, Danny nodded as Dela left.  Roy picked up the silicone packer Danny had thrown away earlier, turning it around and examining it for a while handing it back to Danny. “Looks better than some of the bitches’ dicks out there.” Danny blushed, cracking a small smile and put it back in his underwear turning away from Roy. Roy just smiled and grabbed his hand leading him back outside where everyone was gathered around the table, silently watching them when they came back out. Morgan ran up to Danny hugging him. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” “As revenge I think it’s just fair you hit him in the nuts.” Shane joked making Danny laugh a little, sitting down next to Roy and Chad. Chad leaned in giving him a side hug and asking if he’s okay. “You know we don’t care though, right?” Willam said bluntly passing him the potatoes. “We’re all men in wigs, putting on fake boobs every night for money.” Shane elbowed him in the shoulder,. “What he’s trying to say is, we don’t care because it doesn’t change who you are.“ Danny smiled feeling relieved that they all took it so well. “Is that what the needles were for? Your hormones?” Roy asked next to him letting go of his hand and pushing something into both their plates. “I forgot to take my shot last week so when a friend reminded me I wanted to do it as quickly as possible before I forgot again.” They all nodded and continued dishing up. “How long have you been doing this?” Dela asked midway through the meal. “I came out when I was 15, started T at 16.” Danny said chewing his veggie burger, by then he’d relaxed more and seeing how open and understanding the group was he didn’t mind talking about his transition. “I would’ve never clocked you though! You’re bod is hot.” Willam chimed in making Danny choke on his beer a little, blushing at the comment, his face lighting up. “Yeah, your chest is phenomenal!” Courtney added leaning over Roy to feel around his pec, making him pull away slightly at the touch. “Thanks, I had keyhole 3 years ago.” Danny lifted his arm showing the tiny incision on his chest before touching his right nipple. “This is a $10 000 nipple, it’s my favorite.” He playfully joked making the others chuckle at him and Roy shake his head. The rest of the meal was spent going back and forth between everyday nonsense and questions about his transition. He explained his name, when he had his surgery and starting testosterone in high school when Chad told them to leave him in peace apologizing for the ‘nosey children’.     

Most of them were either lounging on the floaties in the pool or on the chairs, happily full and lazy after the incredible meal while a few went to clean up. Danny and Roy were helping with the dishes, Roy washing them and handing them to Danny to dry off. It was as if the events of earlier were forgotten after they all sat down like a family, the time Roy and Danny spent in the bathroom wasn’t though. Roy handed Danny the last plate, drying off his hands and putting them in his pockets. “You feeling better now or do am I going to find you in the bathroom again in an hour?” Roy teased leaning against the counter taking a sip of his wine, turning his head in the boy’s direction. “Why?  Scared you’ll have to kiss me again?” Danny asked playfully putting the plate down and coming to stand next to him. Roy looked at him for a while before picking him up by the hips and putting him on the counter. “No, I wouldn’t mind kissing you again. Just know you’re a musician and need these.” He said holding up Danny’s bruised hand kissing it, making him blush but wincing at the slight pain. “How do you know I’m a musician?” “You dumbass, Shane’s the musical theory teacher.” He said rolling his eyes. “So you wouldn’t mind kissing me again?” Danny asked childishly smiling at him. Roy smiled back at him, shaking his head and leaning in for a kiss. It was still as tender as before, but this time Danny threw his arms around him pulling him in deeper as their kissing got more intense.

“Goddammit, will I need to clean jizz of my counters? Not cool!” Willam came in scolding them. “Like you haven’t fucked every guy in California in this place you whore.” Roy snapped, as Danny giggled pulling him in closer for a hug and leaning his head against his. “Aw, someone take a picture.” Shane cooed looking at them through the open glass doors. “I got it!” Danny enthusiastically pulled out his phone turning the front camera on and snapping a shot of him and Roy together as Roy kissed his cheek. The others came back in each putting their empty glasses in the sink.

“Alright ladies, back to work we go.” Chad instructed the queens shooing them along. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at home.” Roy lifted Danny off the counter, going to grab his keys but Danny just pouted. “Why?” “Because we need to go stick our dicks in pantyhose. Let’s go.” Roy instructed clicking his fingers in the direction of the door as the others left too. “Can’t I come watch again?” Danny asked, not ready to go home. “What if I dropped you off at your place, you get cleaned up and then you can come watch the show? Deal?” The older man sighed, looking at his watch. Danny scrunched up his face thinking it over, “Okay.” He agreed skipping past Roy out the door, Roy just face palming and shaking his head at Willam. “Where do we find these people?”

When he got home Jay was napping on the couch, the bong next to him still smelling like it had been freshly lit and Jason in his usual tiny underwear making ramen. Danny strolled over to him giving him a loving hug, sure he was an uptight asshole but he was his uptight asshole and he never shunned away from Danny’s affectionate embraces. “Do you want to go see a drag show tonight and get shit faced?” He purred as Jason turned around playing with his hair waiting for the timer to go off. “Matty will be there?” Danny tried knowing Jason couldn’t say no to seeing Matt even if he denied they were an item. “Fine, I’ll ask the others if they want to go too but leave sleeping beauty on the couch. Bitch came in here ‪at 8am‬ looking like he barely survived the apocalypse. He’s just been napping and getting high all day.” He said shaking his head at their 3rd roommate. Brian and Katya ended up having a date and Kim wanted to finish a project he had. They decided a little roomie night out might not be a bad idea and started getting ready, first trying to wake up Jay who jusy waved them away mumbling some gibberish.

Danny and Jason looked like they were dressed for a bad 90s album cover and they both loved it. He looked in the mirror at his perky ass, perfectly on display in the tight skinny jeans, sure he hated having a feminine physique but he had to admit he enjoyed having the ass. They said goodbye to a still asleep Jay and made their way hand in hand to the club, Danny’s heart fluttering at the idea of seeing Roy again. 

When they got to the club Matt was still setting up and they each hugged him, Matt giving Jason a small kiss on the cheek making Danny squeal. “So cute.” Jason slapped his arm and shot Matt a scowl. “Bianca back there?” Danny asked trying to look behind the door. “Yep, getting ready with the others.” Danny nodded, winking at Jason and slipping behind the door. He walked through the dark hallway thinking back on how Roy soothed him during his freak out, nobody had ever managed to calm him so easily. Usually his friends or family knew to just leave him in a locked room breaking things, and let him get his problems out on his own time.

He saw some of the queens look up when he came in but held his finger in front of his mouth, walking over to where Bianca was sitting, concentrating on her hair and not even noticing the boy come in. “Hi.” Danny said grinning widely plopping himself down on the chair next to her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, I’m old. You might give me a heart attack.” She said distractedly, still fixing her hair. “How old are you?” Danny asked tilting his head looking at what she’s doing in the mirror. “136.” Courtney joked coming out of the bathroom, giving Danny a hug from behind. “Fuck you cunt. How old are you?” Bianca asked looking up for a minute to see how her hair looked. “21.” Danny answered playing with some loose fabric on Bianca’s dress. “I’m 14 years older than you, do the math.” “Hi Mr Haylock.” Jason came in before Danny could respond holding a few shots, followed by Matt also holding a few. Jason sat them down on the table giving Danny one and kissing his cheek. “What the fuck faggot? Trying to get me fired?” Bianca shot Danny a look. “For the drag or you two?” Jason asked, as usual being blunt and not caring. “I give you one kiss and now we’re an us?” She asked turning to face Danny who was grinning bigger than a cheshire cat holding up 4 fingers. “Fine, 4 kisses.” He rolled his eyes. “You won’t get fired. One of our friends dated a teacher a few years ago, everyone knew, someone even caught them fucking once.” Matt stated, giving Bianca the set list for the night. Bianca sighed putting her fingers to her temples. “Fine, to not getting fired.” She cheered downing the tequilla, the others following suit. 

The rest of the show they watched from the dj booth the same as Danny had the night before, this time Bianca came to stand next to him between sets putting her arm around him once or twice. Danny enjoyed the affection and the jealous looks he got every now and then while grinding with Jason when a song they liked came on. When Bianca said goodnight and they all went backstage to dedrag Danny followed her, holding her hand and going to sit down next to her, watching her become Roy again. “That’s what those 3 scars were!” Courtney suddenly shouted, taking off her dress, it finally clicking. “You did have a surgery, I was right earlier.” Danny looked down feeling embarrassed. “Yeah I had some cysts so they just removed my stuff to avoid it happening again.” He said softly his mood growing dark. “Besides they had to. If I get bottom surgery to become a real guy they need to do that first.” He felt his eyes stinging, bottom surgery was a touchy subject for him, his dysphoria growing just thinking about it. Bianca grabbed his hand, using his other one to pull his face up to hers, kissing him. “You are a real guy. My guy.” It was such a simple act, just a kiss but Danny’s mind went calm again. It was also the first time Bianca had referred to Danny as his anything even surprising herself.

Bianca got up removing the long flowy black dress she had on and going to the bathroom to untuck when Danny felt his phone vibrate. It was a text from Kim, a selfie of himself next to a dress he was working on, pages of designs and notes laying on the floor next to it. The caption reading, “Haylock is going to be the reason I kill myself.” Danny couldnt help but giggle at the text, putting his hand over his mouth and typing out a response. Roy came back, fully himself again and picking up the make up to put away. “This is what you’re doing to your students.” Danny teased showing him the photo. “Poor Mr Shin, all that for a dress I’d probably give a C- to.” Danny hit him on the shoulder. “Hey be nice to Kim! Poor guy’s working himself to the bone.” “Why do you call him Kim?” Roy asked turning away to collect his bag. “When we still shared a place all he ate was kim chi, it’s disgusting.” Jason answered coming in with Matt, holding his hand. “That shit was good, man.” Danny defended his friend grinning at the couple’s pda. “People who eat pepperoni pizza and then ass should have no say in what’s good food.” Jason teased hugging Danny. “Will you be okay or do we need to give you a ride home?” “He’ll be fine, go work on your dress too Mr Dardo.” Roy chipped in seeing Danny was looking at him for an answer. “Bye, babe. Wear protection!” Danny waved at Jason and Matt as they walked away. 

“So I’m going home with you, huh?” Danny playfully asked, sticking his tongue out at Roy when they got in the car. “Taking you back to your apartment, told you I don’t fuck children.” Roy joked pulling out of the parking lot. Danny’s smile fell, he looked down. “Is it because…” His voice trailed off feeling the all too familiar situation of a guy rejecting him because he’s trans. It was a sore spot for him knowing that guys never really wanted to hook up with him or date him purely because he was born in the wrong body. “No you dumbass.” Roy grabbed his hand pulling it up to his face and giving it a kiss, “I’m taking you home, it was a joke.” Danny’s face lit up, kicking his feet and going through Roy’s itunes looking for something to play. “Why do you do drag if you’re a teacher?” Danny absent mindedly asked, still scrolling through the songs. “I got bills to pay and dogs to put through college.” he shrugged. Danny turning towards him smiling brightly at then mention of dogs. “Two, Sammy and Dede. You’ll like Dede, she sings too.” Roy joked stopping at a light. “Is it too late to get Taco Bell?” Danny asked turning his head in the direction of the flashing sign. “Yes.” Roy asnwered but Danny pouted at him giving him his trade mark doe eyes. Roy groaned dramatically pullin up to the drive through anyway, smiling at Danny who was clapping his hands in delight. 

When they got to the apartment Danny immediatly bent down eagerly greeting the small dogs who were wagging their tails happy to be receiving so much attention. “You want a chip?” Danny asked pulling one out of the bag and giving them each half. “Hey! Don’t teach them bad manners.” Roy scolded going to sit down on the couch, rubbing his eyes and leaning his head back. He sighed, groaning something about being too tired. “That’s because you’re basically ancient.” Danny said sitting down next to him, handing him his taco as he bit into his own, causing some of the contents to fall onto his lap. “Food goes in mouth, what color was the cave you were raised in?” Roy joked, putting a napkin on the boy’s lap smiling brightly as he chewed. Roy wiped some sauce off the side of Danny’s mouth, Danny taking advantage of the opportunity and biting his thumb when it came close to his lip. Roy rolled his eyes, removing his hand and biting into his own taco.

They sat there eating while Danny asked him about his life. “This isn’t 20 questions, bitch.” Roy said getting up and wiping the salt on his hand off on his pants. “I just want to get to know you.” Danny whined, burping as Roy walked away to throw away the wrappers. “Then get in my pants first.” Just as he finished his sentence and turned back around Danny jumped over the couch, pushing Roy against a wall grinning wildly. “I wasn’t fucking serious!” Roy said a bit too loud looking at Danny, getting down on his knees in front of him, licking his lips as he unbuckled the older man’s belt. “I’m screwed aren’t I?“ 

[merigreenleaf]

Short Story: “Is This Closet Mine or Yours?”

(I'm pretty sure I stole the sentence prompt I’m using as a title/first line from @lynnafred - it was too perfect not to use for my dorks! This is a look inside the daily life of my characters- cats, pencils, arguments, and all. You can find the masterpost with links to read all of the short stories in this series here.)

————————————— 

“Is this closet mine or yours?” 

Sol’s affronted voice echoed through the wagon, breaking the comfortable silence of a lazy afternoon. Adair, who had been sitting at Blythe’s feet, lost in whatever he was sketching, instead lost control over his pencil. Blythe heard a snap and then a curse, then Adair went scrambling. As he wedged himself half under the couch, Blythe simply lowered her crochet and stared in the direction of the kitchen. This raised so many questions. When did Sol come in without them noticing? How long had he been in there? How did he fit in there? And the most important question…

“Why is he in the pantry?” she hissed to Adair who she just knew was going to get himself stuck. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to tug him free after an attempted pencil rescue.

He gave her a muffled “It’s Sol, don’t ask,” and went back to reaching. For Petra’s sake, there was an entire jar of pencils not three feet away. Blythe snatched one and tapped him on the butt with it. She’d have preferred to knock some sense into him via a different appendage, but his head was trapped in the world of dust bunnies and missing art supplies. He must have realized this pencil was a lost cause, too, because he sighed and scooted backwards, taking the one she held with a look of resignation. Good, maybe now that he was paying attention, he could help her figure out why their friend was in the pantry muttering about how it belonged to him. Sol didn’t even live here.

She brushed the expected fuzz from Adair’s hair and called out, “Solei, who the frit are you talking to?”

From the pantry came the sound of a scuffle, as though Sol tried to move quickly in a space that barely fit him in the first place. “Willow’s trying to steal my closet!”

Blythe stared up the ceiling, silently begging the Creators to grant her patience. Sol was the only person on the planet who could get into an argument with a cat.

“She probably wants you to feed her.” Adair, seemingly unfazed by the situation, had one eye shut and was squinting at the pencil. It was a pencil. It was identical to the previous one in every way, except in not currently being lodged under the couch. Although if he kept staring at it much longer, Blythe was going to dump the entire jar behind inaccessible pieces of furniture.

The pantry door popped open and a perplexed cat was deposited on the other side. It opened again just long enough for a can to roll across the floor.

“She’s not going to eat chickpeas,” Adair pointed out as the cat began washing herself with a hauteur that suggested she was above dealing with stupid humans. She probably was.

Blythe certainly wished she was. With a roll of her eyes, she went over to stand next to the door. “Sol, why are you in the pantry?”

A clatter followed by “ow ow ow ow ow” came from inside.

That really wasn’t an answer. She caught sight of Adair going after the damn pencil again and nudged him with her foot. “You speak Sol. Get him to come out.”

Clattering became a loud crash. Now Adair’s attention was caught. He clambered to his feet and pushed at the door with all of his strength. The door remained stuck. “When did we get a lock?” he muttered, then said louder, “If those were my preserves smashing on the floor, you’re in a lot of trouble! I’ll do something drastic!”

He paused and scrunched up his nose, apparently catching on to how untrue his statement was. “Okay, wait. I’ll… I’ll send Blythe in there! And she’ll do something drastic!”

"Oh no you don't! You're not bringing me into his nonsense. Not this time." Sol's groaning and grumbles were mostly covered by her vehement words, which was all for the better. She was sick of always being the one used as a threat. What would she do, anyway? Drag Sol out of the pantry by his collar and toss him out the door? He was a grown man, for Petra's sake. So was Adair. They could sort out the jelly situation on their own.

She had just picked up her yarn and hook when the door flew open. Unfortunately it was not the one Sol blocked, which meant another member of her wonderful family was about to be bothersome. Sure enough, Dray stalked and seethed their way into the wagon with their entire body wreathed in flame. Through gritted teeth they asked, “Where’s. My. Bracelet.”

Blythe didn’t even look up. It would only encourage Dray and she was done encouraging any of these dorks. Sol could stay in the pantry and Adair could live under the couch if it meant she could have some pleasant silence again. “I don’t know. Where’d you lose it? Why would it be here?”

Dray didn’t live here either, although you wouldn’t know it from the way they constantly barged in. “I did not ‘lose it’. I keep a good eye on my possessions, unlike some people.”

Dray’s comment was directed at Etri who had slunk in behind them. Etri did live here, but if he decided to also be a pest, Blythe wasn’t above kicking him out, too.

Without a word, Etri rested his hand lightly on Dray’s shoulder. There was an audible hiss as the fire snuffed out, instantly lowering the temperature of the room. Dray spun around and glared at him. “I hate when you do that! Did I say you could touch me?”

“I did not say you could burn down my home, so I believe we are even.” Etri’s tone remained as neutral as ever, however his words were perfectly arranged to continue the quarrel.

Of course they would be. Creators forbid the others allow Blythe silence for five minutes. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to focus on stitches with all this distraction, she slid the hook inside the skein of yarn and placed the blanket aside again. If she stayed out of this, maybe everything would fizzle out and they would all leave.

A girl could dream.

While Dray spluttered that they were in complete control over their fire, Etri held up an hourglass-- or what was left of an hourglass.

A thud pulled Blythe's attention away and over to Adair who had given up on trying to pry the door open. With one final kick, he let the cat take over. Willow, presumably unimpressed by the idea of a dinner of chickpeas, began to scratch at it after Adair walked over to the others. “I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to have sand.”

“Yes. Strange, is it not? Hourglasses do require sand, so I wonder what could have happened to the grains once inside.”

“Maybe there’s a crack in-”

“It’s only a stupid piece of glass,” Dray scoffed, cutting off Adair’s suggestion. “You can use it as a paperweight or get another one. The bracelet was made custom and is worth far more than- can you shut the cat up?”

Adair scooped up the meowing cat before she could swipe at the pantry door again. “Willow! Bad! No damaging our house!”

Willow let out a startled “mrrrt” before beginning to purr, showing a feline’s usual reaction to being chastised. At least one being in the room was content. Blythe doubted ear scratches would work on any of the others.

“Thank you.” Dray spun on their heels to glare up at Etri again. “As I was saying, a bracelet is worth far more than a simple timer.”

“This ‘simple timer’ is irreplaceable and held the exact amount of sand to guarantee safe passage to the place of shadow.”

Adair, now having a conversation directed solely at the animal held in his arms, pushed against the pantry door with his shoulder. “Look, as soon as I can get this open I’ll feed you something better than legumes.”

Blythe’s plan to let everything fizzle clearly wasn’t working. Someone needed to put a stop to this and it wasn’t going to be any of the others at this rate, so once again it fell on her. While the cat could wait a few minutes for her to pry the door open to get her food, the bickering needed to stop five minutes ago. She rose to her feet and positioned herself between the arguing pair. They continued to squabble around her until she grabbed both by the hair and tugged to get their attention.

“What are you so upset about, anyway? We’ll find the bracelet and… we’ll get you more sand?” Blythe realized how stupid this sounded before the words finished leaving her mouth. She rallied and continued, “Arguing over what’s more important won’t fix anything.”

“No, but it makes me feel better,” Dray muttered as they carefully disentangled themself from her grip.

Blythe kept hold of Etri’s hair, counting on Dray to follow through in a way she thought they might. Sure enough, Dray reached up to free Etri far more gently than someone might expect from two people who had just been in a heated argument. This is, if that someone didn’t know them. As annoying as it was, bickering was how their friendship manifested. The only way she’d found to reliably stop one of their squabbles before it got to the point of wanting to bang her head against a wall was to give Dray and Etri a mutual enemy. Usually it forced them both to work together for a few minutes of blissful quiet. Occasionally it backfired and all three of them ended up covered in oatmeal. That had been a strange day.

Etri’s lips twitched at his partner-in-crime before he focused on Blythe. “As I was going to ask Atair, where is Sol?”

Ahh, now they were getting somewhere! Everything always boiled down to Sol, didn’t it? “He’s in-”

Adair's words barreled over hers. “Sol who?”

“Sol who?” Dray scoffed. “Try your best friend who has a habit of taking stuff to use in his inventions. Ring a bell? Where is he?”

“Oh, that Sol. I dunno, I haven’t seen him in days.”

Dray’s eye roll put Blythe’s own to shame. It was probably all the makeup Dray wore accentuating their eyes. “You’re a terrible liar considering the two of you were having a muffin eating contest this morning. Where are you hiding him?”

“Oh, right. The muffins...” Adair mumbled to himself. He proved Dray’s point by adding, “I didn’t hide him anywhere! Honest! He hid himself!”

Dray snorted and leaned over to look under the couch, like a six and a half foot tall man would fit. Blythe was surrounded by idiots. “Dray, he’s in-”

A sneeze erupted from the kitchen.

“Ah. He’s hiding in the pantry,” Dray said.

Adair didn’t comment, which was probably for the best. Sol, who would never know what was best if it bit him on the backside, said, “No…”

Dray strode over and shoved on the door to no more avail than Adair’s effort. “Solei Celeste, what did you make?”

Sol all but whimpered. Use of his full name had that effect. “A mistake?”

“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.”

“Nothing! I didn’t make nothing!” The four outside the closet- minus the cat who was busy kneading Adair’s arm- exchanged a look. That was as much of a lie as Adair claiming to not know who Sol was. When no one said anything, Sol continued, “I didn’t! I had an idea and then I knew you guys would look for me so I’ve been hiding in here the whole time.”

“If you didn’t make anything, then where’s our stuff?” Dray asked. “You have five seconds to hand it over. Five, Four-”

“Don’t count at me! It’s in the drawer of my workbench! I wanted to give it back, but I was afraid you’d be madder if you knew I took it.”

“Too late.” Dray shot an angry look at the pantry door before stalking back out of the wagon with Etri close at their heels.

When they were gone, Adair leaned his forehead against the pantry door. His voice was much calmer than Dray’s when he said, “I have to get dinner started. Can you please open the door?”

There was a rustling and another crash that made Adair flinch, then Sol said, “I can’t! I’m stuck!”

“You’re the dope who went in there in the first place.” Blythe pushed at the door only to have Sol cry out “ouch!” It did, however, open a crack, and she peeked in to see him wedged between the shelves, more or less upside down.

Adair put his eye to the opening. More concerned about dinner than his best friend, he asked, “I wonder if we have any crushed tomatoes?”

Sol’s hand appeared under his nose. “Can we have this instead?”

Adair took the can and read the label. “Sol, this is cat food.”

“I know! Willow says it’s really good and I want to try it!”

Sometimes Blythe wondered if Sol really could talk to the cat. Most of the time she just wanted everyone to stop talking. She pulled the door shut and ignored Sol’s pleas to get him unstuck. “You know what, Addy, let’s just go out to eat. My treat. I bet we can find a place selling hot pepper chicken.”

“Awww, that’s my favorite! Bring some back? Please?”

Ha, she knew that might work. Sol enjoyed food almost as much as Adair did. “If you promise not to go in there again.”

“But it’s my hiding place!”

Almost. A bribe that would have worked on Adair failed on Sol. It did, however, give Blythe ideas for the next time Adair tried to wedge himself under the couch.

She grabbed her coat and nodded to Adair who was giving the cat food to its intended recipient. “Come on. We’ll leave the pantry to think about what it’s done. We can grab a crowbar on the way back.”

————— 

I’m going to tag a few people who expressed interest in being tagged in stories. If you don’t want to be tagged in the future, let me know. And if you would like to be tagged, also please let me know so I can add you to my list. :) @ageekyreader @the-gay-hufflepuff @firewritten @elliot-orion @joshuaorrizonte @writtenhastily @writerlydays @ava-burton-writing @josephmxa @megan-cutler @dragonscanbeplantstoo @alittle-writer @perringcentral @an-author-in-progress @aceduchessdragoness @madmooninc

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; A Year of Sunsets (Part 2/5); PG

Two days into October, after Taemin has made both himself and Jonghyun pumpkin pies and had way too much fun setting up Halloween decorations for no one but himself, Jonghyun catches Taemin sitting on the shore of the lake, letting pebbly sand fall through his fingers as he waits for the sun to get low enough for some nicer colors.

1-2-3-4-5

As Taemin carries sunset number twenty-one back through the darkening trees to home, it really hits him how glad he is that he chose to go into acrylic painting instead of watercolor. Sure, watercolors are swirlier and funner, but they take long as fuck to dry. He can’t even imagine how much more tedious this would be if he had to deal with that nonsense. He’s still going to have to figure out an easier way to carry these canvasses back home, though, instead of just awkwardly holding them under his arm. Maybe he’ll look something up online so he can carry them on his back as well.

He’s so caught up in trying to figure out how to make these walks back easier on him that he’s halfway passed the warm orange glow shining through Jonghyun’s windows before he realizes that there’s a warm orange glow shining through Jonghyun’s windows. He stops, curious; looking up, he sees the smoke coming from his chimney and recognizes the smell. Oh. He's back already? It hasn’t even been three weeks. He stares at the windows, lost in thought. If Jonghyun is back already, that means he’ll have to get started on his banana nut muffins soon. He’d thought a lot about it over the past few days and he’d come to the pretty solid conclusion that Jonghyun is a muffin person, and also a banana nut person. Unless he’s allergic, which he should probably find out. Hmm.

Again, he gets so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize he’s just standing outside of Jonghyun’s house and staring into his kitchen window until Jonghyun walks by and notices him. This time is significantly more embarrassing than the first. He blushes as Jonghyun flashes him a smile though the window, but scoots forward when Jonghyun waves at him to come closer.

“Hey,” he says when Taemin gets close enough to lean up against the windowsill. “Back from painting?”

“Uh, yeah,” Taemin says. “I’ve been scoping out the lake, see?” He holds up his painting proudly so Jonghyun can see the contrast of the fiery orange sky over the shadowy aqua of the water. People are totally gonna want to buy this one for sure. “But, um--” He shakes his head quickly before he forgets what he was going to ask. “What about you? I thought you were going to be out there for a month or two.” That’s what he said, right? A month, maybe two? Seeing him back here so soon, Taemin is starting to doubt his own memory.

“Ahh, well, yeah,” Jonghyun says, He shrugs a little sheepishly and lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair. It’s a gesture that makes Taemin realise that he’s shirtless, and kind of fucking ripped. That’s pretty cool, he guesses. He was planning on his only exercise being his daily walks to the sunset, but good for Jonghyun if he wants to be in like, super shape. “You know how it rained pretty hard a few days last week?” Jonghyun asks. “And then got really hot?”

“Yeah,” Taemin snorts, shaking his head. The rain he liked; he cozied up on the couch, painted it through his window, read some old comic books, watched some tacky judge shows, made some s’mores, listened to it patter against the ceiling, and loved his life. The heat he could have done without, though. It’s still kind of lingering around and he’s really glad that it’s getting closer to winter than summer. He’s not fond of being sticky and gross.

“Yeah, well, it got really humid out there,” Jonghyun goes on. “I hate when it’s humid. I think I’m gonna leave again when the summer storms are over and the winter ones haven’t started yet. When it’s cold and dry and not humid. October, maybe.”

“Mmm… spooky,” Taemin hums, grinning when Jonghyun grins at his comment. It’s pretty impressive, how Jonghyun knows the forest’s weather patterns so well. Taemin doesn’t even have the weather of his old home memorized, and he lived there for over ten years. Jonghyun’s knowledge of his home makes him remember something important: that he doesn’t really know jack shit about this place. “Hey,” he says, “I meant to ask you something else too.” He puts his hand on Jonghyun’s windowsill, ready to ask. Then he frowns because he forgot. “Uh, fuck.” It was actually two things, he thinks, looking down. One thing about the lake, maybe, and something else about…? Guh.

“Do you wanna come in for dinner?” Jonghyun asks. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder into the house. “I just threw some dinosaur nuggets into the oven a few minutes ago.”

“Fancy,” Taemin says. He glances through the trees at his house for a moment; if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really feel like making his own food tonight. He was gonna do the same as Jonghyun, except with regular shaped chicken nuggets instead. He thinks Jonghyun’s version sounds much nicer. And he feels like he can deal with a little socializing right now. He nods when Jonghyun points him towards the front door, hiking his sunset more under his arm and heading over there. When Jonghyun lets him in, he just smiles with another nod, kind of spacing out while he tries to remember what it was that he wanted to ask about the lake. It’s not until he’s setting his bag and painting gently against the kitchen counter next to the door that he remembers; the painting itself reminds him.

“Oh,” he says, looking up slowly. Jonghyun is over by his couch, wiggling rather ungracefully into a purple sweater. Taemin waits until his head pops out from the collar, mussed and curious, and then points at his artwork. “Those rocks, in the lake,” he says, waiting for Jonghyun to come squint at the rocks in his painting. “Is there any way to like… get on top of them?” He nods when Jonghyun moves to pick the canvas up, giving him permission. “I want to do a sunset from the center of the lake.” He tried looking for little stepping stones, fallen logs, anything that would make a good path, but he couldn’t see anything from his vantage point on the shore.

“Hmm,” Jonghyun hums, lifting his canvas up onto his counter and leaning it against his coffee maker. “Yes, but… there won’t be for a while, not after the rain we just had.” He shrugs sympathetically as Taemin pouts. Frick. He must have just missed it. “Usually, in the summer,” Jonghyun says, “the lake is low enough that you can make your way into the middle on some other boulders. It’s not that deep here on the south side.” He points a little path from the shore Taemin painted to the rocks in the center. Taemin hums again, not pleased but at least satisfied with Jonghyun’s answer. He’ll go out there next year or something. As for now, he frowns at Jonghyun, noticing a roughness in his voice that wasn’t there last time now that he’s spent a few minutes talking to him.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks. “You’re not sick, are you?” Taemin doesn’t want to catch whatever Jonghyun has, if he has anything. He doesn’t want to get sick in his very first month.

“Hmm? No, no,” Jonghyun says. He rubs a hand over his throat self-consciously. “Being out there just messes with my voice sometimes,” he shrugs. Taemin nods, understanding. It’s just a little hoarse from lack of use. Taemin wishes that happened to him; all that he gets when he doesn’t speak for a while is a bunch of flustered stuttering. He’d gladly trade a rough voice for that.

A sudden, short beeping startles him from his thoughts: a timer sitting on the other end of the counter. Jonghyun grabs it quickly, and then puts it down just as quickly after he looks at it.

“Ten minutes left,” he says. He wiggles his eyebrows promisingly. “Oh--right.” He leaves Taemin’s side to walk around the counter and into the actual kitchen. On the far wall, across from the sink, he pulls a potato out of a low cabinet. “Baked potato, also,” he says, holding it up. “You don’t mind if I microwave it, right?” he asks. Taemin snorts.

“Not at all,” he says. He doesn’t think he’s had an actual oven-baked potato in years, not when the microwave is so much faster. Jonghyun gives him a thumbs up and turns to wash the potato, then sets it all up in the microwave next to another that he must have already prepared for himself before Taemin walked by.

“Take a seat,” he says, pointing aimlessly at the rest of the room, which has two distinct places to sit. Taemin looks from the cushy couch in front of the tv in the living area to his right, where he would sit in his own house, and then to the quaint little dining table on the left wall passed the kitchen. That’s probably where Jonghyun meant.

He shuffles over there a little awkwardly, not used to being new in someone’s house. The soft shag carpet under his feet turns into scratched tile. The dark wood of the kitchen chairs match the table also for a warm aesthetic. A small scented candle (“Desert Sand,” Taemin reads blandly) sits in the middle of the table on a cute little coaster. Jonghyun’s house is nice. Inviting. Taemin finds himself smiling as he traces lines in the surface of the table with his finger. The fact that Jonghyun is just letting him be silent and think is also nice. Looking up at the ding of the microwave, Taemin finds Jonghyun reaching in with bare hands to get their baked potatoes out. He snorts as Jonghyun hisses softly and practically drops them onto their plates. Smooth. He thinks, as Jonghyun brings both plates over to the table and sets them down carefully, that he almost remembers what the second thing was that he wanted to ask him.

“Starch,” Jonghyun mumbles as he stabs their potatoes open and flaps steam away from his face. He slides back to the counter, where he picks up a cutting board that Taemin must have completely zoned out on, and brings it to their plates. “Veggies,” he says, tipping a few carrot and celery sticks onto each of their plates, and “fruit,” as he adds half of a sliced peach next to that. Taemin raises his eyebrows, amused. This is certainly a meal that he’s putting together here. Still, it’s more thought than Taemin puts into his own diet. He doesn’t think he’s actually set out to eat vegetables in years. Living on his own and making his own dietary decisions wasn’t really one of his strong points. He doesn’t even think he remembers what carrots taste like. He hopes he likes them.

“Dairy,” Jonghyun mumbles next, taking the cutting board away and returning after a minute with two glasses of milk. “And meat,” he says finally, as his oven timer goes off behind him. He slides away to get the chicken out of the oven, looking immensely proud of how he managed to time everything so perfectly as he tips three stegosaurus-shaped nuggets and three t-rex-shaped nuggets onto each of their plates. “Perfect,” He smiles at Taemin, pushing his plate across the table helpfully. Taemin smiles, grabbing the salt from next to the napkins and adding a little bit to everything.

“Aren’t we supposed to have grains, also?” he asks teasingly. He’s sure he remembers bread being on the food pyramid somewhere. He thinks Jonghyun also skipped a food group completely, though he can’t remember which one it is. Jonghyun laughs and takes the salt when he’s done with it.

“I think they moved bread into the potato category, actually,” he says. “Or, potatoes into the bread category. Something weird. Also, I forgot to buy bread when I got back this afternoon.” He shrugs, biting the head off of one of his dinosaurs. “It’s nutritious enough for me.” He winks; Taemin breathes out a soft laugh and shrugs. Same. And Jonghyun was out in the forest for two weeks. This has to be more balanced than anything he got out there. He eats a peach slice off of his plate first, always a sucker for fruit. Picking up one of his dinosaur nuggets after, though, finally makes him remember his second question.

“Meat,” he says to himself, and then, looking up at Jonghyun, “Wolves.”

Jonghyun looks at him blankly for a moment, carrot stick between his fingers. Taemin curses internally. That was just… not good. Not the right way to say that.

“Uh, wolves?” Jonghyun asks, and Taemin shakes his head quickly, stammering to clarify.

“I-I mean, shapeshifter wolves,” he says. “Like--” He pauses and takes a deep breath before he can blunder through before he has his thoughts together and embarrass himself further. Jonghyun lets him without pressing him for an explanation, which he appreciates. After a moment (and another peach slice), he takes another breath to speak. “Before I bought the house,” he says, waving a hand behind him at his place, “I looked up this forest, and how it’s legal shapeshifter land?”

“Shapeshifter property, yeah,” Jonghyun agrees, nodding. Taemin mirrors him and stabs at his baked potato with his fork.

“I was wondering, if you’ve ever seen any of them?” he asks. “Or if you know where they are?” Now that he’s remembered his question, he can’t believe that he forgot something so fascinating. He heard them howling a few nights ago and stayed up late just to listen to them sing. He figures Jonghyun, a person who has probably lived here for a good chunk of his life, has to have seen one or two around, even if they do like to keep to themselves.

“Mmm,” Jonghyun hums. “They are out there, but... they’re good at staying... hidden. From most humans.” He speaks slowly, like he’s choosing the right words. “I’ve seen them further out every now and again, but the wolves almost never show up around here.” He takes a sip of his milk and swallows a peach slice. “I think they usually stick to the northwest of the lake, kind of passed where the river curves. That’s where I usually see them.”

“Hmm,” Taemin replies thoughtfully. That’s interesting. He thinks it would be cool to see one. It’s bound to happen at least once at some point during the rest of his life. “I’ve just, never actually seen a wolf before,” he tells Jonghyun. “My neighborhood was mostly just… humans, kitties, and bunnies.” None of those are exactly rare anywhere. “I kind of just want to see a real life wolf, period,” he mumbles. Wolves are cool. He’ll be satisfied with a regular wolf if he ever sees one of those. “I just feel like a shapeshifter is less likely to, you know, eat me.” He shrugs; Jonghyun muffles a laugh into his hand for a quick moment.

“I mean, true,” he agrees. “There aren’t any wolf wolves around here, though, so don’t worry about it. Territory shit, you know. If you ever do see a wolf, it’ll definitely be a shapeshifter.” At his reassurances, Taemin nods silently. That’s comforting. And kind of impressive. He wonders if the shapeshifters often have territorial disputes the further they go into the forest, or if the whole area is just… theirs. It’s a big place; he wonders how big the pack actually is. He doesn’t exactly know much about wolves and how much they can handle, and he’s sure that shapeshifter wolves would be different from anything he could learn online anyway. Ahh, well. If it’s really bugging him later, he’ll just ask Jonghyun to see if he knows any details. For now, he pokes absentmindedly at his last peach slice with a carrot stick, trying to remember if it was carrots or celery that he always hated when he was younger.

“You lived in the city before, right? How did you paint your sunsets then?”

“Hmm?” Taemin looks up, a little dazed from getting lost in his thoughts. Jonghyun looks at him expectantly over his plate. Shit. Sunsets… in the city? Where Taemin lived. Yeah, that’s where he lived, in the city, and he painted sunsets there. Jonghyun was right. That statement was true.

“Um,” he says. “It was a lot of skyscraper silhouettes. And telephone poles. Kites, sometimes--at the park where I would go, once a month there were kite flying events.” He smiles at the memory of all of the different colors soaring around the sky. Life in the city wasn’t all bad, he supposes. Still, it was no waking up to the smell of oak and the sound of leaves rustling overhead, and Taemin is in no hurry to drive hours back just to see some kites.

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts again, Jonghyun presses him curiously, but gently, for more information, and so Taemin tells him. About the city, his schools, how dancing used to be tied with painting in his interests until he realized that dancing as a job would be much too social for him, just stuff about his life. Jonghyun talks about himself as well; how this has been his family’s house for generations but he’s the only one living in it right now, how he likes to do a little singing and songwriting in his spare time in the woods, how he goes out fishing in the lake in the summer. It’s a nice time between the two of them. Taemin finds himself relaxed and comfortable as he finishes up his dinner, grateful for Jonghyun’s easy hospitality. He stutters and flubs quite a few of his words, but Jonghyun doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s nothing but kind smiles and genuine interest.

Soon, like usual when he talks to people, Taemin starts feeling worn out and tired. Luckily for him, it only just starts happening as he’s washing his own dishes in Jonghyun’s sink. He made it through a nice dinner without his mood dragging him down. Now, as Jonghyun offers to walk him home through the woods in the dark, he’ll be able to hide his fatigue behind the guise of it being a long day. By the time they reach his place, it won’t even matter that Taemin feels his energy draining out of him by the second.

Jonghyun’s expert shortcut through the woods is just a little bit to the left of what Taemin had been using himself. They’re silent as they walk, but it’s a comfortable silence, one where Jonghyun lifts his flashlight from the ground and shines it instead on the painting that he offered to carry. Maybe he wants to buy it or something. Taemin could give him a discount for being such a nice neighbor. After looking it over curiously for a minute, though, Jonghyun fits it back under his arm with a satisfied looking smile. Taemin can’t even find it in himself to be disappointed. That expression is too impressed to get annoyed at. A few minutes after, Taemin shines his own flashlight--the one Jonghyun gave him just two weeks ago--on the back door of his house.

“Welcome home,” Jonghyun smiles, wiggling his own light over the wood of Taemin’s back wall. Taemin smiles thankfully at him, taking his painting back under his own arm and digging in his bag for his key.

“Thanks for dinner,” he remembers to say over his shoulder as he jams it into the lock. Jonghyun waves a dismissive hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Also, hey, about the wolves….” He trails off as Taemin pushes his door open with his shoulder. Dropping his stuff just inside the entrance, Taemin turns back to him with a quiet, curious hum. What about the wolves? Jonghyun looks at him closely for a moment, thumbing the switch of his flashlight on and off. “There is one,” he says, “that comes around here sometimes. Dark brownish grey, with white fluffs on his tail and ears.” He pauses there, raising his eyebrows at Taemin in a look that means he’s trusting Taemin with this information. Taemin supposes he lied about not seeing any in this part of the woods before because he felt some kind of responsibility, as probably the only one to know about the wolf. He rubs his eye tiredly, really wishing that he were more alert to really pay attention to Jonghyun’s words.

“Is it--he,” Taemin corrects himself, remembering the pronoun Jonghyun used, remembering that these wolves are also people, “friendly?” His voice rises at the end, uncertain. He doesn’t know if Jonghyun is telling this because the wolf is nice or because he wants to warn Taemin. At his question, some of the hesitation in Jonghyun’s posture deflates into a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says. “A big softie. If you see him around, just be chill, you know? Don’t make a fuss.”

“Got it,” Taemin agrees, breathing out a soft laugh. Like he even needs to be told that. He is the least fussy person that he knows. “If I ever do see him, I’ll probably just try to get him in a painting, to be honest,” he shrugs. Jonghyun smiles at his simple acceptance, looking relieved.

“Okay,” he says. “Well--goodnight.” He nods his head and gives Taemin a wave; Taemin copies him as he slips inside of his house and closes the door.

~

Summer shifts into Fall slowly but surely. Taemin doesn’t notice at first, but soon, it’s obvious in the chill in the air and the colorful leaves that he shuffles through every night in his journeys through the forest. It makes him smile, makes him flap around in overlarge sweaters and turns his sunsets into splashes of gold and red. They’re selling well; even better than they did when he was in the city. He hasn’t visited back yet, but Kibum emails and texts him all of the time and Taemin mailed him a nice birthday present, so he guesses that that’s close enough. He’s not ready to visit yet. He’s still enjoying his life alone.

Or, almost alone. He and Jonghyun see each other often enough, exchange friendly waves and little smiles. Occasionally Taemin stops by his house for a few minutes to show him his sunsets, and on one of his more social days in September he brought Jonghyun over a cinnamon apple pie, something that he was very proud of and Jonghyun was very impressed by. Jonghyun lets him be on his own for the most part though, which Taemin greatly appreciates. He loves not feeling any pressure to be a talkative neighbor. He loves being able to spend his time alone, dancing in his living room, making big breakfasts whenever he wants, listening to the wolves singing at night, sitting in the dirt out back and planning out where his garden is going to go in the spring.

Two days into October, after Taemin has made both himself and Jonghyun pumpkin pies and had way too much fun setting up Halloween decorations for no one but himself, Jonghyun catches Taemin sitting on the shore of the lake, letting pebbly sand fall through his fingers as he waits for the sun to get low enough for some nicer colors.

“I knew I’d find you out here,” he grins as he lowers himself down next to Taemin and gets comfy in the sand. Taemin smiles lazily back, scooting a little bit over so they’re not so close.

“How could you have guessed?” he asks. Jonghyun shrugs and reaches over to play with Taemin’s little bottles of paint and things in his box. With a quick glance at the sky, Taemin joins Jonghyun in rummaging around the box for his little pallet tray to start getting ready.

“Just a feeling I had,” Jonghyun says. Taemin hums in reply. He can feel that. He wonders why Jonghyun was out looking for him, but he assumes that Jonghyun is going to tell him, so he doesn’t ask. Instead, he works on popping open his paints and squidging colors into their usual spaces, and also on not giggling at the word “squidging” like he usually does when Jonghyun isn’t around. When he reaches for the light blue, Jonghyun squeezes out a little blob for him instead, looking all proud of himself for helping. Taemin laughs softly and gets up onto his knees on his pillow so he won’t be sitting at such an awkward angle when he starts to paint. Next to him, Jonghyun leans back and crosses his legs.

“Anyway,” Jonghyun says. “I figured I should tell you that I’m leaving for vacation tomorrow morning. Like, for real this time,” he adds when Taemin raises playful eyebrows at him over his shoulder. Jonghyun cocks one in response. “So if you wanted to declare your undying love for me, you’d better do it now,” he says. Taemin laughs, shaking his head fondly as he turns back to his canvas. He reaches absentmindedly to his side to tug his paints and supplies to a better position.

“I think I’ll hold onto my feelings for a little bit longer,” he says. Looking up at the horizon, he frowns when he notices a stray tree branch is kind of messing up his balance. He scoots everything a few inches to the right, squints at the tree again, and shrugs. That’s a good enough angle.

“Well, If you wanna let me know, I’m all ears,” Jonghyun tells him. Taemin chuckles again as he dabs some orange on his brush to start. Jonghyun lets him paint in silence, only leaning forward once while Taemin is rinsing off one of his brushes to gently poke a tiny speck of blue onto his finger. Taemin watches him with amusement for a moment as he smears it between his pointer finger and thumb with interest. He finishes just as the sun is almost all the way gone, the sky already turning a deep blue in contrast to the fiery orange of his painting. He blends some of the lower bushes slowly, puffing his lips up as he looks at the whole thing.

“Mmm,” he hums. “What do you think?” He turns to Jonghyun, who hums in thought as well, glancing quickly between his painting and the horizon.

“I think…,” he says slowly, moving to his hands and knees to squint at it better. “Maybe a little less lake and a little more bush, here,” he says. He almost pokes the green with his blue finger before he hisses and closes his hand, tapping the spot gently with his knuckle instead. Taemin snorts at his sheepish smile, but follows his advice and adds more bush there. When he pulls his brush back again, both of them stare at it for a moment before Jonghyun claps, gentle little applause for Taemin’s skill. “Perfect,” he smiles. Taemin smiles back, flattered.

“Thanks,” he says as he picks up his smallest brush and signs his name at the bottom of the piece. It should be dry in no time. He’ll varnish it in the morning, but for now, he pulls out a container of clean water and some paper towels to wipe his pallet with so it’s less of a mess to deal with later. Jonghyun comes up to grab a paper towel as well to help him and he smiles thankfully. “How long are you gonna be gone?” he asks. He can’t imagine that Jonghyun would want to stay out there for very long when it’ll probably start snowing soon.

“Uh, a month, maybe a month and a half,” Jonghyun shrugs. “It starts really snowing around November.” He makes a face and Taemin smiles to himself. He likes how he was able to predict that, how he knows Jonghyun well enough despite not spending a whole lot of time with him. He nods in understanding as he rubs at a little dried speck of purple.

“November is like, prime comfort food season,” he says. October is for sweets and December is for fancy shit, but November is all biscuits and soups and things that warm the soul. “Tell me when you get back and I’ll make you something nice?” he offers. He’ll probably be feeling social at some point in November. Jonghyun gasps softly, lips lifting up into an excited little smile.

“I’d like that,” he says earnestly. “Like a crumb cake or something. I always use the box mix, but….” He looks up at Taemin with a hopeful little smile. Taemin laughs. He can make a crumb cake, yeah.

“Can do,” he says. He holds out his hand for Jonghyun’s dirty paper towel and stuffs it into a little plastic baggie, then stuffs that in his pocket and everything else back into the box. When he reaches out to gently tap at his canvas, he finds that it’s still kind of wet, but not too much that he can’t carry it back right now. He stands up straight and offers Jonghyun his hand to help him up as well. Jonghyun picks up his box of paint supplies with an easy wave of his hand when Taemin moves to take it from him.

“I got it,” he says simply. Taemin smiles at him in gratitude. Pulling his bag over his shoulder and picking his canvas up carefully, he leans it against Jonghyun’s leg, wrestles with his easel for a moment to get it to collapse, and then grabs each in both hands. Then he looks up to lock eyes with Jonghyun. He suddenly realizes that he doesn’t really have anything to say. “Let’s go, then,” seems too weird and cliché. Jonghyun smirks after a moment, probably because he’s realized that Taemin doesn’t know what to say either.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, gesturing down the path with the box. Taemin breathes out a soft laugh and turns to follow him through the trees. Well, all right then.

Jonghyun stays for a glass of water and a cookie when they reach Taemin’s house, just a few minutes that Taemin is happy to allow him. Then he’s gone, waving a cheery goodbye as he wanders through the darkness to his own house. Taemin gets himself all snuggly in bed with his laptop just a few minutes later. He thinks that maybe he could wake up early enough to make Jonghyun a few muffins or something to take with him, but by the time he falls asleep, it’s well passed three in the morning. By the time he wakes up, the sun is high in the sky and Jonghyun is already gone.